Some people may consider getting slammed into the ground a minor injury, and people who consider that to be painful, are weak.

Now, Celosia knew that she wasn't the strongest person on Zenith--that encounter with Dhoulen had just proved that, actually--and she knew that on the strength scale, she was rather weak and helpless. But damn it, if people didn't think that what she was going through isn't painful, they weren't human. As simple as that.

Scrapes covered various body parts of the injured girl, including her knees, elbows, and face. Her torso would no doubt be covered in purple and black splotches by the next day. The arm that had been twisted behind her by that murderer still ached painfully, and blood ran down her cheeks from the various scrapes, marring her fair face. She could still feel the pressure of the blade upon her throat.

Above all that, the mental pain she was feeling was much more potent. To be so close, yet so far from her goal.... To be ridiculed and humiliated in front of people, to be tossed aside like she was nothing... Her wounded pride seemed to cause physical pain in her heart, and the feeling of failure weighed even more heavily upon her. She wasn't strong enough. Three years, and she still was nothing compared to the person she desired to kill. When would she ever have the chance again? It took her three years to stumble upon him, who knew when the next time would be? Would there even be a next time?

The disoriented girl didn't respond to any of the people kind enough to offer their help for a few moments. Not because she was being rude, but her mind was not with her at the moment. After a brief pause, her eyes slowly focused on the people around her, only half hearing their questions.

"Uh.... Y-yes, I'm fine, thank you...."

Leon examined the girl for a moment after she gave her reply. He furrowed his brow and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, trying to place her. She must've been a traveler; that much was obvious, judging by her garb. Beyond that, she didn't seem particularly strong- if anything she appeared a bit weaker then your average traveler. He venture a guess that she didn't primarily rely on her sword... a mage, maybe. All that was beside the point. He had to find out more about that man. The chill in the air that came from him was the same one he felt when he visited the ruins of his former home.

He might've made some attempt to help the girl, partly to curry favor in hopes of getting information and partly because it was simply the kind of person Leon was, but he was unable to provide any sort of medical care beyond administering some simple herbal medications he learned in the wilderness. "Hmmmm... we should get someone who knows healing magic to help you," Leon said to the girl, "I know a good healer in this town that owes me a favor, if you're interested." Leon was hoping that the girl would accept. He need whatever information she had about that man.

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Atalee stared blankly at the woman, not really knowing how to react. The young woman appeared dazed, disoriented, and although her wounds didn’t look serious, her pride appeared to have taken a major blow. Again, Atalee wondered if the young woman and the large man knew each other from before, and if so, how? She wondered whether they were old friends, old nemeses, or something else.The young woman appeared significantly weaker than the large man. However, that seemed like it was because the large man was frighteningly strong and not because the young woman was particularly weak. In fact, Atalee suspected that the young woman was quite capable, probably being some kind of mage, even though she hadn’t yet seen her in action. This made the sister believe that perhaps the young woman was the one pursuing the large man, possibly because of some kind of grudge. Perhaps she was hunting him. Perhaps she even wanted him dead. Atalee could only speculate…

One of the other bystanders, a tough-looking warrior with unkempt black hair and piercing green eyes, spoke to the young woman. He offered to take the young woman to a healer, stating that this mysterious healer owed him a favor.

“That would be a wise choice.” Atalee stated. “Unless someone here happens to be a healer…?”

Tyrell had stayed nearby--close enough to see that Joscelin hadn't gotten herself killed yet, at least. She still had to play the hero for a bit longer, though, so he stole away with the intent to stay out of trouble. Fate hadn't let Joscelin down yet, and Tyrell was convinced he wouldn't anytime soon. There wasn't any such kindness shown to Tyrell, though; turning into a new alley, Tyrell found himself facing the girl with the giant scorpion for a puppet that had involved herself with the fight.

"Uh, hey," Tyrell called. He gave her a quick inspection--nothing noticeable, just trying to get a feel for who she was. Her garb suggested the upper class. Though Tyrell wasn't fond of blue bloods, he didn't want to be rude to a girl. That meant he couldn't just walk away now that he'd called out to her. And she had a mark in her favor for stepping into that confrontation. Not that it was the right decision, just that it wasn't what he expected from upperclass snobs. "Nice pet you have there," Tyrell hazarded.

Joscelin was relieved when the woman confirmed that she was alright, aside from the obvious damage that was etched all over her. Still, she nodded along in agreement with the black-haired man's assessment that she should see a healer about her injuries. In fact, she had half a mind to tag along and see if they'd be kind enough to take care of her own scrapes as well. Three quarters of a mind, even. When the brown-haired woman seemed to query if anyone around was a healer, she spared a quick glance around at everyone gathered nearby. Nobody that was really giving her that 'healing magic' vibe to be perfectly honest.

"Well, don't look at me." She said, turning to face the small group gathered around the woman yet again. "I mean, I've got magic, but it's not healing magic. Maybe. Probably." Resting one hand idly on Principale's hilt, Joscelin tapped one of her feet by the heel, lightly bouncing her leg up and down. It wasn't often that she was completely still, and now more than ever she was anxious to go out and do something, after her act of 'heroism' had been cut rather short.

Nathimys started to run towards the man as he swung his sword, a powerful gust of air hitting him square in the chest, and well, the everywhere else. Nathimys was blown back like a ragdoll for a few feet, then managed to turn the momentum into a backflip, landing on the ground rather easily. Nathimys would've ran at the man again, if he had not disappeared moments later, bidding them all Adieu. Nathimys scowled, clipping his claws back into place at his sides.

His scowl persisted, plastered on to his face for the next few moments. Nathimys looked up at the scene, a man and two women were standing over a woman who was sitting down. The victim? Probably so, considering the fact she is covered in scrapes from the man who refuses to get stabbed at this moment in time. Nathimys curled his fists into tight balls at the thought of it.

"Hmmmm... we should get someone who knows healing magic to help you,"

“That would be a wise choice. Unless someone here happens to be a healer…?”

"I mean, I've got magic, but it's not healing magic. Maybe. Probably."
Upon hearing this, Nathimys's scowl slowly sunk away, replaced with a blank expression. Nathimys stepped towards the injured woman, saying "I'm a healer, as long as you don't mind losing sight in one eye." His tone was serious, although he didn't mean it. He knelt down, taking out a vial of water from the inside of his cloak. Wordlessly, he put his hand and held the woman's head up, pouring the water over his hand. The water flowed over his hand and onto her skin, glowing a pale green colour as he used his Support Etra- Heal. It flowed over the wounds, speeding up the blood clotting and skin cell reproduction processes rapidly, making most of the wounds back into normal skin, leaving some as small scabs. The water flowed back, after it had done it's job, and over Nathimys's arm, around the inside of his cloak, and into his vial. Nathimys stood up. "My name is Nathimys, a pleasure to meet you all."

Freya continued her walk through the town. It was as beautiful as every other town she has visited. Men and women still jumped and repulsed at Freya's armor, some running away. Children were also scared, but some had more curiosity than fear. They reminded her of herself and her sister, who were always more curious than afraid. Regardless, the children's parents or older siblings dragged them away from her. It was all understandable. Armor as monstrous-looking as hers gave her an appearance that clashed with the city's beauty.

Some men thought to yell at her, and women thought to speak about her as she passed them. These people knew that the appearance was just armor, but they still had one thing wrong. When they spoke of her, they referred to her as a man. The armor visually hid her womanly features easily, and the common thought was that men usually carried around a heavy-looking bag. There were exceptions, but still, they were rare. At least to Freya.

Looking about the city once more, she decided to sit down one more time. This time, just to admire the sights. She found a nice place, placed the large blue bag next to it, sat down in her cross-legged fashion, and gazed upon the busy life. At some point, she found that there panicking people. She didn't know why though. At another point, she felt a strong gust of wind. She found it unnatural, but passed it off as nothing too strange or concerning. She just continued to sit and gaze...

His eyes widened as he managed to grease the palm of the old vendor for more information. His heart pulsed with aching dread, it seems again they were to just barely slip from him again. He pushed for more information, "So you're saying they were arranging to sell something to you today or tomorrow?"

The old man responded, " Yes, he wasn't terribly specific about time. Other than it would a particularly interesting item."

"And which one of them is coming?"

"The middle one with the beard and braids."

"I see."

"Is there anything else?" The merchant said eager to gain more money.

The young man turned his head as he saw something flicker in the corner of his vision. Just his luck, it was the exact same person that was to come. Pulse already racing, he burst after the thief who had already began hightailing it. His quarry was slippery one already he had tried making his way through a crowded area with stalls. The man who had spied on him cursed his luck at drawing his attention but kept his eyes out on any distraction. Arm outstretched he knocked various things and began tossing objects back. Sound of objects hitting the ground could be heard as his pursuer swatted them away with his sheath.

Cut off from the opportunity to use the crowd to blend the thief began making his way through a more lonely part of town hoping duck out in an alley way and escape. Again such luxury was permitted due to his pursuer's almost single minded drive to get him. "Dammit" He said to himself as he saw a figure in front of him get larger. Strange man with armor and a bag next to him. Would be worth taking a second glance and maybe a juicy target for robbing, but stopping would be foolish. Instead he simply jumped over the back head tilting back to see his distance.

The pursuer wasn't so lucky, his focus on the target keeping unaware of the obstacle until the last minute. He hit the ground hard with his face and clothing rubbing on the dirt, pain shooting up in mouth as canines skewered the tip of his tongue as the flavor of salt and metal filled his mouth. He let out a raspy yelp that was followed up by a long string of obscenities. Still he would not be defeated so easily, rolling on his side he palmed around for what felt like rock. He tossed it full force into the head of the thief buying him to scramble upwards as he spat out a gelatinous crimson blob. Sounds of clashing metal from the thief's own blade being blocked the sword and giving to a brief series of attacks filled the air. At least until the sound of clashing metal gave to flesh on face. He beat down the thief while asking where they were, where they did have it, and if his leader was here.

Freya honestly was caught off guard. She didn't expect someone to trip over her bag. The two men seemed to have appeared out of the blue. First the braided man who ran past her, uncomfortably close. Then a larger man who tripped over Freya's bag. She immediately opened the bag and inspected its contents. She didn't take as much time as one would think to inspect the armor parts within. She just checked for any dents. Scratches were inevitable, especially when she needs to use it, but dents were much more annoying. They ruined the original look, and took forever to fix.

There was one thing that was missing from the set: the helmet. Freya looked around for it, and found it next to the two men. The larger one now beating and questioning the braided one. She didn't understand why he was doing it, much less in the middle of the public, but she ignored it for the moment to pick up and inspect the final part. It was still okay. It more sturdier than regular armor, so it was a given, but Freya always hated it when people steals and uses another person's item with carelessness. She was intent on stopping whatever was going on, and giving the large man a scolding for throwing the helmet.

Knowing that she, herself would not have the strength to stop the man, Freya used her puppet magic to bring the armor together, and control its movements as if a person was inside. Her magic gave it enough strength to grab hold of the man's arm to stop him from beating the braided one. Hopefully this caught his attention

"Help me! This crazy bastard is-" The bandit yelled as he saw the figure appear before being cutoff with a punch.

"Shut up and answer me," the young man said, "Where are the other tablets, and the others where are they?" He said unaware of her approaching presence being so close to him.

The bandit's cowardice showed itself as he couldn't tolerate anymore abuse. "Alright! Fuck stop beating me. I got no clue where they are, Tolbar keeps it a secret."

"Good now what about their whereabouts?" He asked with his native accent slipping in and giving a particular vicious edge to it.

"They're in the inn."

Suddenly he felt a tap on the shoulder. Without even thinking of it he effortless drew his sword. He placed his foot on the bandit as to not let him slip away. Addressing the stranger coldly he said, "If you're a friend of his I'll waste no time in taking you both out. If not then leave us for this does not concern you."

"It may be best not to draw your blade in a place such as this." Spoke the petit voice of Freya.

She stepped closer and next to her armor puppet. Her voiced clashed with her current appearance, but that was not the main thing on her mind. There were already people who were running in fear before this man came along. The guardsmen of the city are sure to have been alerted by now, and a man attacking another man is sure to be arrested on sight.Looking at the man now, he seemed to be a foreigner with his shade of skin and accent. He spoke of some sort of tablet, so she decided to use it in her words.

"Guardsmen are sure to arrest you if you seem threatening. Your sword and the man beneath your foot will not help either. Whatever it is that you want, you won't be able to obtain it if you're locked behind bars. Also, you really shouldn't throw anything unless you know what it is. You almost dented the helmet on this armor."

She pointed to the helmet on her puppet. There was no visible dent in it, but the point she was trying to make was to mind the people around him.

"Please. Sheathe your blade."

Giving a quick glance to his captured quarry, he then looked at her. Making no comment about her advice and showing only the vaguest of surprise towards that contraption. He sheathed his blade but for her sensible reasoning. Rather he brought it down upon the bandit and smote him, rendering him unconscious..
Kneeling down he rummaged the bandit a medium sized box. He shook his head as he inspecting the contents saying cryptically, "Seems like there were more victims besides me." He then looked at the armored figure whose feminine voiced mismatched its shape. "Apologies for the helmet miss, I thought it was a rock."

Before the raven-haired women could reply to Leon's offer a skinny man approached. The other women that went to aid the hostage asked if anyone one was a healer, and as luck would have it this man was. He kneeled down beside the women, and poured a vial of what appeared to be water onto her skin. He mentioned something about her losing her eyesight- he was probably trying to be funny. He then used what appeared to be magic on her, and the water spread over her, fixing her wounds, then flowed back to him.

It was a strange sort of magic, but it was certainly useful. Leon stood up. The man introduced himself as 'Nathimys'. "My name is Leon. Nice to meet all of you as well." Leon paused for a moment, then stretched his hand towards the women, offering to help her up. "If you don't mind me asking, who was that man who attacked you? It seemed like it wasn't just some random attack, I assume you know who he is, right?" Leon hoped she would be willing to give him the answers he wanted.

Beatrice stays in one spot, watching as everything thrown at the killer was instantly ineffective. Soon he performed a powerful wind Etra that cut everyone off from him and the woman he was threatening before. They must have exchanged words, for when the Etra came to its end, he disappeared, leaving the woman alive. Others went up to her to check if she was okay. She had some injuries, but there was a man who knew healing magic among them.

Out of the corner of her eye, Beatrice found one spectator walking away. As he passed by, she spoke to him.

"So you're not going to help her out? What makes you so different to them?"

Azelius stops walking as he hears someone question him, then turns towards the speaker. The person is covered in full plate armor and is likely a woman, judging from the sound of the voice. Azelius resists the urge to scoff at her for wearing that much gear in a relatively peaceful town, recent murder aside. Of course, he himself never saw the need for armor in any situation, peacetime or battle, but seeing someone clad in armor plating in a place like this one strikes him as a bit ridiculous. Well, people have their odd preferences and he couldn't care to comment on it right now, so Azelius opts to just answer the question instead.

"Of course I'm not going to help, it's not really my problem. Besides, the other people there got it handled."

Beatrice raises a brow behind her helm. She questioned what this man's views were. No one would spectate so close to a killer, especially with an Etra like that. But then again, she did the same. In any case, this man was a strange one. He left the area with a disappointed expression. What was going through his mind? Did he want more dead? Did he want to fight the killer? Many thoughts rush through Beatrice's mind within seconds, before she thought Why do I care? she has no reason to care for this man's actions. It's just that he did a different action than others did, and she pointed it out to him. Nevertheless, she is already talking to him, so she decided to bring up a small conversation on her way out, saying,

"Then I assume you just spectated to see the man with the wind Etra?"

Ava walked down the darkened side street, heading back towards her temporary residence. To her left and slightly ahead her scorpion puppet clacked noisily against the stones underfoot, it's deadly tail wrapping protectively around it's puppeteer. Ava's right hand rested against the large stinger, as if she was being escorted by a genteel suitor. She much preferred the scorpion.

A boy, Ava estimated around her own age, walked into the alley just ahead of her. No good, had he seen her just now? Even if he hadn't, the scorpion puppet would raise enough questions. She should silence him, that way he wouldn't go about starting strange rumors about a girl with a scorpion. Ava lifted her hand from her escort's cold arm. The speed of her scorpion's strike would shred the skin from her hand should she be touching it.

The boy called out to her, commenting on her puppet, but mistaking it for a 'pet'. The girl set her hand back on her puppet's unfeeling skin. No, not a pet, just another dead puppet. She wouldn't kill him for seeing her. He'd done nothing wrong. The gray girl walked past the boy, her large puppet climbing on the side of the walls to get by. A few feet past, she stopped for a moment to curl her scorpion's tail about her again. She half-turned her face back, just enough to look at the boy out of the corner of one eye. "Thank you," she said with an absolute lack of emotion or sincerity, and she turned and continued walking.

As Azelius is about to walk away, he stops again as soon as he heard the second question and turns back to the armored woman. He didn't expect her to actually continue the conversation. She seemed to be a spectator just like him, so Azelius just assumed she'd understand his answer and he could be on his way to wherever. There is a small part of him that's curious about what she's doing here in particular, but he couldn't be bothered to actually pursue it. Whatever she wants to do is her business, it's not really any of his concern as long as she doesn't get in his way. However, he might as well oblige her with an answer.

"You're partly right, I guess. I mainly wanted to see a fight and instead, I just see someone bailing out at the slightest hint of an actual confrontation."

Assuming the conversation is over, Azelius turns around and walks away from her. Perhaps it's time to go outside Farecia's borders again for some actual excitement.

Celosia was a little overwhelmed by the amount of people offering their assistance. Truth be told, she didn't really need any of their help or their concern, as Celosia's skill set lay in the field of healing. Or did they deem her too weak to take care of herself? That was an interesting thought. She did just get knocked back easily by her opponent, but it would be rather stupid for a traveler to not even know basic first aid. Besides, her wounds were only superficial, easily healed by her own healing etras. And if she wasn't a healer, she would simply apply some medicine and ignore the sting until it fully healed. She had suffered through worse in her travels, even if she didn't seem like a seasoned traveler. Sure, they hurt, but they were something that Celosia probably wouldn't even bother healing, instead leaving them to heal on their own. After all, you never knew when you would need to heal a much more serious injury.

However, every time she opened her mouth to reassure everyone she was okay, she was interrupted.

"I--"

"No, you se--"

"I'm a he--"

Finally, she just let out a slightly frustrated huff as Nathimys stepped forward, feeling a bit irritated at this point. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to get to her feet and leave the town of Farecia, to grow stronger and finally knock Dhoulen off of his infuriating perch. Finding him after searching for so long, only to lose him again... It was very disconcerting, yet she felt a glimmer of hope. If she managed to find him once--even if it was just be dumb luck--then perhaps she'd have another chance. Celosia was eager to begin searching again, but she couldn't possibly just leave the strangers who are trying to help her... Even if they are unintentionally hindering her instead. She wasn't someone who could be rude to kind people, even if it was very tempting to just brush them off.

Involuntarily, Celosia flinched when Nathimys' hand extended to her face. Not only did his little joke--it was a joke, right?--invoke wariness, she was unaccustomed to physical contact, having been alone for such a long time. A strange reaction, considering she was in Dhoulen's arms only moments ago, but whatever. The cool caress of the water coaxed out a small gasp from her, not having expected that. Celosia felt the pain slowly fade away before the water slipped away. Her hand touched her cheek, revealing the extent of the healing etra to her.

"Thank you." She said softly, offering a small smile at Nathimys. "But for future reference, I'm a healer as well..." She didn't know why she said 'future reference', she doubted that they would ever meet again, but who knew? Travelers tended to encounter one another multiple times, and perhaps even become friendly, or allies if they were looking for companionship.

Accepting Leon's offered hand, Celosia allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, dusting off the gravel that clung to her from her fall. She nodded her head in a small indication of thanks. Then she inwardly groaned at his question. Of course she would be asked questions... But how would she answer them? Maybe simply leaving would have been easier... It was too late now. Her mind churned as she struggled to come up with a truthful answer that wouldn't be dismissive. Of all of the little bits and pieces of information she had gathered about Dhoulen over the years, none of them added up. Each of them contradicted each other, and ultimately failed to provide Celosia a clear vision of who that strange man was.

"He's.... Someone I've been chasing after for a while." She replied slowly, deciding to come to a vague answer.

Celosia's clear eyes took in everyone standing around her as she sheathed her blade. That sword of her would appear too long, too heavy for the petite, slender girl, but her movements would suggest that even if it wasn't a good fit, she had at least some familiarity with it. Readjusting her belongings into a more comfortable position, she straightened herself out, now looking less banged up, and more confident.

"I'm Celosia. Thank you all so very much for helping me after that... Unflattering display." She introduced herself with a wry laugh. "I would love to stay and get to know you all, but I'm afraid I must be going." She gave everyone a little bow before turning on her heel to leave.

Despite the complications she had faced today, Celosia was sure that she was one step closer to figuring out this mysterious figure. From the little pieces of information she knew about him, today's events had allowed her to come to a conclusion on a crucial detail: Dhoulen wasn't simply an insane murderer who killed for the sake of killing. No, the fact that she was alive, and that everyone around her today was alive proved that. She had witnessed Dhoulen's deadly etras, and knew that today, instead of using a defensive wind etra, he could have used an offensive one to wipe everyone out just as easily. Back when they first met, he didn't massacre everyone in the village, he left after he killed her family members. So, what could she conclude from that?

Simple, Dhoulen had a goal, and that goal involved the deaths of very specific people. She glanced over her shoulder, at the dead body lying on the ground. Her eyes closed in a moment of prayer for the deceased. There had to be something connecting that dead person, and her family members. But what? That was what she had to find out. Then maybe, next time she would be able to stop it from happening again.

But for now, she needed to leave. She didn't need to be taken in by the Farecian army for questioning, or anything. She had a mission, and she was more than ready to begin again.