Do you feel it? The sands, they used to shift underneath his feet, but ohhhhh, Darsi. Now he's gone walkabout with his full-half on the duality of an arachnid. No, no, you're not listening, pay attention. This is not going to be on the test, so don't bother preparing yourself. The tent is filled to the brim with a plethora of smokes and fumes. Half of them are real, the other half don't even exist yet (Hh, but they will, or his name isn't Darsi, y'hear?). Dorak, Dorak, nowhere to be seen, save one and his other, in this great, big pot of horses and metal they and them have found below the brim circling. And you're still not listening you cretin. Don't complain when you fail everything, then. Do you feel it now? Darsi waved his hand through the wisps of various concoctions in the air, all of bright, varying colors which he could not even see very well. It smelled like all of Dorakis in there, and if that fat, snickering Dorak had any say in it (which he did), soon it'd smell like all of Tithe whenever he lights this skora-boat ablaze. Making it burn them, yeah? Igniting fields of whatever in the joyful smells of... of... Do you hear that? Sounds like fights. Darsi slowly crept up from his hammock amidst the cluttered mess that was the brothers' tent. He lazily inched for the front flap, waving his hands, coughing some. Couldn't see half a turd, what with the gunk in his eyes from years upon years of inhaling incenses. Great ones, terrible ones, well-mixed and otherwise. Some were hashes, other were powders. All of them did something. They brought joy and relaxation, and soul-crushing anxiety. But they worked. On him, of course. On others? Well, he'd have to make some offers. Get people to sample the goods before he started selling them off. Maybe whoever was conducting these here fights would oblige him... save he's still high as the sky, though. Might be a problem, might not be. Let's call it a procedural adventure. He turned and grabbed a still-smoking incense while he was wading through the though. He opened the flap up and took a whiff of the fresh, outside air. And then he looked around at all the commotion. There was a big, blue worm on the roof of the drinking house with a smaller, pinker worm riding on top of it. And there was a similar pink worm yelling at them. What on Tithe was HAPPENING HERE. A question best left ignored, Darsi thought. He jumped down onto the stone pathway below, incense still in hand, and still giving off a faint fume. He was ridiculously careful with the incense in his hand while the rest of his body bobbed and weaved like a drunken ragdoll. He wiped his nose a bit, snorting, before proceeding towards the scene. He heard the muffled sounds of words like "dragon" and "rider", which he mentally translated to "dang gone" and "ripper" for some reason. He approached one of the armed sausages, shuffling his feet, almost tripping. He was right next to the guy, giggling. Apollos stared up at the massive dragon, practically craning his neck to see its head raised high into the air. He still had both sword drawn, but as the situation began to diffuse he lowered them. A strange smell reached his nose which he recognized from his time in Dorakis as insence, fumes which they used to intoxicate themselves. He had done it before himself, but he couldn't quite remember what it felt like. He turned to see a large Dorak, standing before the dragon and giggling. "I take it you've never seen a dragon before, then?" Apollos asked him. He took half a step back from Darsi, trying to prevent the fumes from intoxicating him. Darsi paused a moment before he simply burst out laughing at Apollos. "Y-! You saids!" He stammered out, "Dra- HA, HAAAA!" He keeled over, still keeping the bowl full of the potent incense balanced. After a moment he reared up and reached into the bowl, dabbing a bit of powder on his fingers. He held his hand up to Apollos and said, very calmly, "Smells this." "I think I'll pass." Apollos replied, moving his head back and pushing Darsi's hand away from him. He felt a smile coming to his own face as well, and his shoulders loosened a bit from the calmness which began to overtake him. Darsi paused and stared at Apollos with a stupid grin on his face for half a moment before turning his head upwards, at the blue worm and the potato riding it. He dabbed his fingers in the bowl again and raised his hand, calling out, "Smells this!"

It didn't take the girls long to wish they hadn't left the warm confines of The Smiling Goose, the streets of Macaron were every bit as chilly as they looked through the inn's large, recently cracked window. The people here seemed erratic and confused too; charging into one another to get about and half of the populace seemed to be in hiding. As the pair witnessed an elderly shopkeeper flip a board outside 'Felicia's Flowers' from open to closed, making the last open shop on the street now equally as inaccessible as the rest, they quickly came to the conclusion that they wouldn't be getting much shopping done today. 'I told you we should've stayed in! This place is strange...' Adelaide warned her sister before attempting to catch the attention of the shopkeeper but the woman just ignored her and scurried to what must of been her home. Now that she thought about it the lady seemed to be in a panic, ravaging her key chain menacingly and missing the keyhole a few times before finally unlocking the door, eventually squeezing through and slamming it shut. 'Surely it can't always be like this' Ciara responded, 'I reckon something's happened and that's why everybody's being weird, if we never slept in so late we might know what's going on.' 'Well whatever's going on I think we should just find Volak and get back to the inn before father.' Adelaide rarely got in trouble with her father but whenever she did Ciara was always right there next to her and the idea of wandering about didn't bode well in her gut. 'Yes, ma'am!' came her sister's rather sarcastic response. During their search for the vulture the severity of the situation started to become increasingly more apparent. The first passerby that mentioned a siege failed to catch the girl's attention but the next three did and by the fifth Adelaide knew that the duo were wandering around a city that was about to go to war. After searching most of the city Ciara suggested that Volak had already returned to the inn but Adelaide knew he was out there somewhere, after-all the bird rarely made a quiet entrance and Adelaide had a strange feeling he'd be enjoying himself in the midst of the unfolding chaos. 'ADELAIDE!!' She eventually heared her sister cry out. The girls had decided to split up in an effort to cover more ground. Ciara sounded as though she was in trouble and Adelaide found herself darting through the alleys faster than she'd ever moved. Thoughts of her younger sister being hurt raced through her mind, neither had been involved in a siege before and Adelaide didn't know what to expect, what could happen. As she dashed around another corner she knew her sister was close, now she was almost at the perimeter of Macaron and with the last corner came a horrendous sight. Ciara stood bleary-eyed looking helplessly at her sister as Volak stomped around violently, pacing up and down before the tall outside wall of Macaron. The vulture had one wing flapping ferociously into the air whilst the other rested limp at its side, Adelaide immediately noticed the trickle of blood turning a dark, dry colour on the pitch black feathers of the bird's injured wing. 'I tried to help him' her sister explained, almost sobbing 'but he wouldn't let me near him...' 'Its okay, it's okay, he'll be okay...' Adelaide assured her sister, and herself. 'He's just hurt, he's scared. Volak!' The bird immediately stopped his stomping when he noticed Adelaide, he turned his head to let her see the pain in his eyes, he WAS scared. She quickly moved to pick the bird up, 'it's okay boy, I know. I know it hurts, we're going to get you looked at I just need you to trust me, okay?' She asked whilst picking up the unusual docile creature. As she comforted the injured vulture and started to look around for someone who could help everything that Adelaide saw and felt seemed to disappear into an obscure nothingness. The once foreboding castle wall felt like a small farm fence that felt homely and welcoming. The grey buildings and floor of the city changed to a pale orange colour and would whizz by turning into smoke as she passed them. She looked behind to see Ciara disappear from sight peacefully into the sky that was behind her now. She turned forward again to notice Volak limply resting in her arms, bloodied but calmly and curiously gazing into her eyes. It felt like hours that she spent exploring the vulture's mysterious eyes; darker than it's darkest feather they seemed to be studying Adelaide back, darting back and forth quicker than light but they weren't looking at her, they were looking into her. When she finally looked up it was too late and a large black mass quickly began devouring both her and Volak. 'AAaueeueeauua..' Adelaide made a nasally, gasping noise as she came to, panicked. The grey buildings and foreboding wall were back, Volak lay quietly next to her on the floor, thoughts and ideas filled her head once again and she noticed that she too was on the floor. She looked up to see a gigantic figure darker than Volak surrounded by people that seemed to be upset. As she wiped her eyes thoughts of the injured vulture seemed to take over once again and whatever situation she'd just bumped into couldn't be more important than saving the bird's life. Adelaide looked up once again, this time she saw just how pissed off everyone was and quickly realised the gigantic figure was actually a fully armoured centaur. She figured that she must of run into the back of him somehow and judging by how far away Volak ended up it must of been pretty hard. What just happened to me? but before she could remember anything else she thought of the injured bird. 'He's hurt somebody help him please!' she begged to an audience including a thin, bright-haired human man with an overweight cat, another human with shining blonde hair and an aura of nobility and the same hulking black centaur that she just smashed into the back of. Adelaide got to her feet and offered the only thing she knew she could, 'I've got money, please! Lots of money just do something one of you! Please?!'

Kane Bounevialle

@Fat Boy Kyle @Jonnyh447

The centaur had stomped one of his hooves defiantly against the brick-layed road, snorting in exasperation, and indignant in his posture. This was certainly not a good thing. While Kane kept his poise and Oscar reacting in little more than raising his eyebrows in interest – John, in the back, was slightly anxious; his dominate hand had one of his fingers twitching. It shown to his captain that John was all ready to go in case the situation went south. They all were. “So you say I can't fight yet?!” The centaur argued. “Now you're saying I can't fuck either?! Maybe I should get some new armor?!” Kane found Kuruk staring at him smugly. Kane looked down at his own armor and back to the centaur. The corner of Oscar's mouth smirked as he briefly glanced at his captain. Kane maintained his stoic demeanor and his expression has not changed a sliver. “Fighting, brawling, pugilism...” Kane began, “violence and assault of any sort, as well as acts of public lascivia, is not tolerated within the walls of Maceron, as decreed by the king of Talbor. If you do not cooperate with the G-2 division, then it is our solemn duty to subdue and detain you in the dungeons of Maceron.” Kane's spontoon that had been in the resting position this entire time had now been erected, but not pointed at Kuruk. Oscar had taken his tower shield from his back and held it in his arm. John's hand rested on his sword's pommel. It was something of a tense moment, to be prepared for the centaur's outburst, but another interruption had come along. “He's hurt! Somebody help him, please!” Kane's attention had shifted a moment, moving his eyes to the sound that was behind Kuruk. Kane placed his eyes back on the center as he steadily paced around the sensitive beast of a man to get a look at what was happening. A girl was huddling over something - a bird, it seemed. A... bird. “I've got money, please! Lots of money, just do something, one of you! Please?!” “John!” Kane hailed. Almost instantly, and uncharacteristic of the anxious guardsman that had his hand on the pommel of his sword instantly stood erect with his fist saluted against his chest. “Show her to the town's alchemist immediately, thank you.” He said. “Yes sir.” John replied and hurried over to attend the elf girl with her injured bird. Kane turned back to face Kuruk, slightly inconvenienced by the two situations in this short period of time. “As you can see,” Kane told him, “I am a busy man. I advise you to leave the scene and not cause any more trouble this day, or to leave the city. You have no third option.” Meanwhile John knelt beside Adelaide and looked at the weak, limp looking vulture that was cradaled in the elf's arms. He was a bit stumped why she couldn't see there was already a situation, and that this much noise over a carrion bird seemed a bit over the top – he wasn't sure what she expected guardsmen to do to help – but he still had Kane's order to follow. “It's okay, it's okay, just follow me. I'll bring you tot he front door of our town's alchemist, okay?” John told her softly. He looked much more boyish than the other guards of G-2. His soft brown hair was parted down the middle and framed his face like a curtain, and his armor was rather much like that of a knight's, if a bit regular in its design and construction. “She's a sweet old lady, she'll fix your... bird... vulture, up in no time. I swear on my life.” With that said, he began leading her away from the scene between Kuruk and the other two G-2 guards, Kane and Oscar. They'd be okay. He believed Kane along would be enough for him. With Oscar around too, the centaur would have to be a fool to fight them both. Especially in the middle of the streets of Maceron.

Kuruk

@Leonerdo

Whilst Kuruk stomped around in the tense stand-off and made his annoyance clear, he failed to notice the girl that bounced off his back-end. Though he felt something, he had assumed it had been the cow. “Fighting, brawling, pugilism... violence and assault of any sort, as well as acts of public lascivia, is not tolerated within the walls of Maceron, as decreed by the king of Talbor. If you do not cooperate with the G-2 division, then it is our solemn duty to subdue and detain you in the dungeons of Maceron.” Declared the fancy dressed knight before the two of them readied their weapons. “Pfft!” snorted Kuruk with a bit of a chuckle. He could tell they didn’t want to fight – someone would already be dead by now if they did. He would have reached for his own weapon at that point had the girl not started sobbing for aid; her weak and weary tone sapped his anger slightly, and he watched her get escorted away through the corner of his dark walnut eyes. “As you can see, I am a busy man. I advise you to leave the scene and not cause any more trouble this day, or to leave the city. You have no third option.” Continued the knight, who seemed to be growing irritated by the stand-off. The other knight, the one with the shield, had grown a slight smile - one which Kuruk would have been elated to have wiped off. “You couldn’t hold me in some dungeon. I would die before I let a man put chains around me again!” he snarled. Unfortunately, his own mentioning of the word 'chains' reminded him of his captivity and this only soured his mood further. He locked eyes with the knight and saw no signs of wavering, no signs of fear or doubt. It might have been refreshing for him to have been in the presence of another warrior, especially after dealing with cowardly guards for weeks, but now he was focused on the man’s movements and what he would need to do should either of them try anything. The tense situation dragged on in silence for what felt like hours (though it was no more than a dozen seconds). “Fine!” he eventually growled with a light flailing of his empty hands, “But tell me, what is your name? And why won’t your pathetic king allow Kuruk or the guards to fight the Legion head on?” The giant’s resignation helped to defuse the situation somewhat, which seemed to relieve and disappoint the small crowd in equal measure. With the tension loosening, the crowd continued to shuffle on away from the city’s walls along with the rest of the uneasy populace. The little elven farmer had also managed to get Daisy moving by now and they too quickly disappeared into the flow of traffic, leaving only the centaur and the two knights.

Adelaide was quite relieved when the blonde nobleman commanded one of his guards to help her. She found herself equal parts dazed and confused as the man the noble referred to as John helped her off her feet and took a brief look at the vulture. Adelaide couldn't help but notice that the man taking commands struggled to avert his gaze from the black, beastly looking horse-man who stood readied for battle, pissed off and it occurred to the mountain elf that she'd just ran into a heated argument between the two parties. John was well armoured and confident, yet Adelaide couldn't be sure that if the centaur was to go berserk the knightly men would be able to deal with him. 'Sorry, I ... I don't know what happened, I just ...' Adelaide explained, trying her utmost to remember the details of the vivid trance she found herself in just moment before. Every time an explanation got closer to making sense it would disappear from her thoughts and she'd find herself getting lost trying to recover it. For now she needed to focus on what was in front of her. 'It's okay, It's okay, just follow me ma'am. I'll take you to the front door of our town's alchemist, okay?' He offered, Adelaide couldn't help but feel as though fighting a centaur was more pressing to these people than saving a life, yet they were kind enough to help and John seemed pretty confident that Volak would be fine so maybe it made sense and Adelaide was over-reacting. 'She's a sweet old lady, she'll fix your... Bird... Vulture, up in no time. I swear on my life.' The thought of a fight potentially being more concerning to the men and the calmness demonstrated by the blonde captain and John both when confronted with the bloodied bird and a mountainous, armour-clad centaur stomping and huffing about seemed to sober Adelaide and she no longer felt full of emergency, just weak. John ushered Adelaide gently towards a square in Macaron that she hadn't noticed whilst looking for Volak, as she moved she noticed the man was probably no older than herself. Flowing, chestnut hair parted Johns youthful and attractive face and maybe in different circumstances Adelaide might've wished she wasn't wearing the first plain green dress she found this morning. As the two approached the discrete, tucked away potions shop that the girls seemed to wander by previously without noticing John grabbed the door and rather chivalrously beckoned Adelaide to pass through first with the injured vulture, when she entered the shop it was unlike anything Adelaide had ever seen...

Morag-Nog

Hmph? What foolish army would... Morag-Nog thought to herself as Iro spoke. Until her entire disposition shift at the "magic words". The Red Legion. Her eyes widened, as she took steps towards him. Tapping her cane on the ground when she stopped. "The Red Legion?! Here!?" She asked Iro. This is incredible! The Red Legion, right at her doorstep. If she could get some fool to grab her some of their weapons... Only problem was that they were laying siege to the city. That shejust so happened to be in. Crap! The look on her face had flipped over and turned into a frown. This presented a problem. Getting the weapons were nice. They were worthless if she died before she could examine them. She placed her hand on her chin. Pondering for a moment what to do. Leaving here was the most sensible thing to do. But she doubt it'd be easy. Making a break for it without a mount would be hard with a bad leg. And the fact they had- Some other fool walked up and started babbling. It was obvious he was listening in on their conversations. How rude. Her eyes drifted towards him, as she kept that frown on her face. It was hard not to get irritated. Morag-Nog knew his type, he was in some position of power. He was asking if the mighty knights of this city would come in and defeat the Red Legion. Hmph. With what, a flick of their wrist? The Red Legion is nothing like anything this. He just angered her some more. "What are you, some child?" Morag-Nog asked Bartleby. She stood straight up and looked at him. "Killing them won't be an easy task. They're too advanced, our best bet is to-" She continued chiding him until his pet companion came within her gaze. What...? A large fat cat, following the Nobleman around. The creature was simply repulsive! She pointed at Shin, while looking up at Bartleby. "What manner of creature is that?" She had to ask. Bartleby offered up his talents. Negotiations (Which would be useless). Sneaking (Which would have some use). Fighting (Which everyone on this damn planet knows how to do). What was he worth? Little. Which is why Morag-Nog is placing her faith more into Iro than Bartleby. But yet, there are ways she can work this conversation in her favor. She stood straight up - well, straight as she could with that leg. She slapped a hand over her chest. "I am Morag-Nog, talented orcess inventor. If I can get my hands on some Red Legion weaponry, perhaps I can figure it out." She realized how much worth she has to the world in their fight against the Red Legion. It may take a long time, but perhaps she could even the playing field. "I will do all I can to assist." This city of liars and self-made men. Morag-Nog thought to herself. For now, she had to take Iro to the hospital. "Now, I may not remember exactly where it is, but, I will lead you to the hospital, Iro." Morag-Nog started walking toward it.

BARTLEBY AND SHIN: -------------------------------- Morag: "What are you, some child?" Bartleby blinked as the intimidating Orc woman started belittling him so suddenly, giving a high pitched eep at her stare, and simply taking it, trying to look as composed as possible, but giving out a quivering slight chuckle at her words, the eccentric man putting his hands up to his chest defensively and speaking up, obviously frightened but keeping a brave face on things as professionally as he possibly could. "W- well no, i'm not a child! In fact i'm a grown man! U- uhhehe.. G- grown and well! N- no need to get so violent! I m-" His words were cut off when the brutish Orc continued, tensing up and starting to bend his legs just slightly to begin running if the worse was about to happen, he then started to think to himself just before she began talking. -------- "Oh come on, I talk to the first person I see, and she's on the wrong day of the moon cycle! And it just HAD to be an Orc, oh this is just my god damn luck!" -------- Morag: "Killing them won't be an easy task. They're too advanced, our best bet is to- What manner of creature is that?" Bartleby suddenly sighed with relief and laughed a little before his laugh became much more depressing until he gave a sorrowful sigh, he was thankful that she wasn't going to rip him in half and dice him to bits, but to have his attention took over by the boulder on his back was just plain wrong, that, and even having to speak about his waddling Reon destroyer, gave Bartleby an unpleasant feeling, and decided to speak up with a little less enthusiasm. "This? Oh... May I introduce you to my cat! The walking bastard! At least I hope he's a bastard, lord knows, if there's more of him around i'm half minded to set the world on fire to quell his clan of cat! Do cats have clans? Whatever! In any case, his name is Shin... I wish he didn't have a name, but they all have to have one, I can't exactly go around screaming "cat!" everywhere, right? All he thinks about is eating, and eating and eating more, oh and he knows what we're saying, so try to be nice, this thing'll crush you..." The huge, boulder of fat on top of Bartleby's shoulders gave out a low and bored meow, whilst it breathed heavily, staring into Morag's eyes with its greedy, large ones, not even looking away from her and continuing to stare rather ominously, while Bartleby continued to listen to Morag speak. "I am Morag-Nog, talented orcess inventor. If I can get my hands on some Red Legion weaponry, perhaps I can figure it out. I will do all I can to assist." ------------ "ZOUNDS!" Bartleby thought to himself. "If she gets her hands on that tech, i'm out of a job! Easy Bartleby boy, easy, you can simply steal it before her! If she wants to race for tech, we'll just have to beat her before she beats us... Literally! For now, let us just come up with a way to ease up her suspicions!" ----------- Bartleby thought for a moment whilst he simply smiled and gave a bow, gripping the hat upon his head as he bowed with it, showing off his ginger set of swept back hair in the process, the male gave a closed smile and proceeded to speak again. He needed to bullshit into the system somehow, he had to keep his fear down and act proud and fearless, easier done than said, he was a born to be liar, and if there was one thing he was ever good at, it was that, and so, bartleby walked beside her as she began to walk away and smiled, his tone of voice totally changing from whiny and cowardly to more upbeat and excited. "Oh don't you worry about me, lass! I'm Bartleby Sterling! One of the most famous men in all of Talbor! To not have heard of my feats is a insult to my work! You may think of me as some rag-tag simpleton but you have not seen anything yet! To not have me by your side would be sending you to your own death! And to have such a strong Orc woman die so shamefully would be tragic! Listen, those guards are wimps, they couldn't protect a cat from butter! But you, you're strong, powerful! You could do many things! I was testing you to see if you truly had brains, nobody wants to associate with a wimpy, half baked noble, right? I test people on their first meetings, and if you want those weapons, you'll need ME to help you get them! Never judge a book by its beautiful cover, but you don't have to decide now! I'l be around town and if you don't wish to die, don't let pride engulf your noble soul and feel bad about getting assistance, because with Bartleby Sterling, anything is possible, especially when it comes to the red legion... Have you ever killed one? The reason why i ask is because I have... and I happen to know a weakness of theres... don't know how long it'll last before they fix it, but I know it... Think it over, lass, i'l be in town, you'll know where I am, unless your too afraid to fight alongside a legend like myself, I understand, either way, ciao!" Bartleby smirked and slowly walked backwards and around the corner, vanishing from sight of the orc and from Iro as he placed his back against a wall and wheezed, giving a muffled scream into his palms and looking downwards, giving a whimper as he shook in terror, WHY did he have to lie so heavily, and now if she finds out he's all talk, he's really going to lay into him! Bartleby couldn't help but picture the gruesome way he could die, and through all this he gazed down and whimpered in a low, mournful voice, walking away and shaking from the fear of what he was getting himself into. "And... And now Bartleby... You've pissed yourself...!"

@jonnyh447 @Mr Allen J @The_Written_John As Adelaide opened the apothecary door, a brass bell rung hollowly in the musty air. The inside of the shop was dark and small, with walls made of dark wood and two candlebraums on a large worn-down wooden counter at the back the only source of light. Around the perimeter of the small room were wooden shelves containing the strangest assortment of bottles and vials containing everything from pickled herbs to octopus tentacles. Four small windows filtered grey light into the room, and hanging by them were an assortment of herbs strung up to dry. At the back of the shop, behind the counter, sat an old woman who looked like she would crumble into dust if the wind blew too hard. She was tired and grey-looking, with a white shawl thrown about her shoulders and her grey hair tied into a bun. A pair of very thick spectacles rested at the end of her long nose. A large Russian Blue cat slept on her lap. She looked up as Adelaide entered the shop and stood up from her chair, causing the cat to awaken and, snarling, fall to the ground. It hissed angrily and slunk back into a corner under the counter, where it returned to sleep. “Good afternoon.” she said in a tired, heavy accent which was most definitely foreign “How may I help you?” --- Iro listened silently as Bartleby spoke, staring at his cat as he boasted about having killed a Red Legion member. The look of fear on his face told Iro that he was lying, but he wasn’t going to speak up and get in a fight with a nobleman. He waited for the man to slink back down an alley, and then turned back towards Morag. “I think that man was lying.” he said “Anyways, if you could lead me to the hospital now, I would greatly appreciate it.” They began to walk, Iro leaning some on his walking stick. He had travelled a long way, and his feet had grown quite tired, but he had work to do. ‘Hopefully I can keep this up.’ he thought to himself. Suddenly he stopped and realized that Mitos had disappeared. Knowing that silly reptile, it probably slunk down an alley and was begging for food from some poor passerby. “One moment, Morag.” he said. The he bellowed “Mitos!” A squawking roar came from an alley, and the turtle dragon came waddling across the street quickly, tripping several passersby as it ran. When it approached Iro it stopped and burrowed its head in his robes affectionately, though Iro knew that the dragon was only doing it to sniff out any potential food sources. He patted Mitos on the head and it looked over at Morag with a look that said “Do you have food?” It walked over and began to sniff around her, looking for something to eat. “Don’t mind him.” Iro said, smiling “He’s harmless so long as you’re not made of food. I believe I forgot to introduce myself, though. I’m Servant Iro Hesekar of the Order of Matrem.” He extended a hand to Morag “It is excellent to meet you.” Coming soon...

February 3, 1026 PW The division between me and Wesserius thins and thins daily. Only now as he lays waste to territories caught along his warpath to Maceron am I in a potential position to intercept him. Timing is the most important thing. If I am to execute any sort of operation against him directly then I must act without delay. At least for now, I have a direction. He is moving south. He will most likely pass through Talbor into Concordius, and then into Dorakis if he makes it that far. Come next nightfall, I will be making haste for Maceron. I must follow him. I must find him and make him talk. He is only my first target. I have much more to do in the near future. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Lord of Owls sets the quill aside and pauses for a moment before closing his leather-bound journal. He stands up, leaving it on the wooden desk. There is a small assortment of furniture in this cavern of his. As well, there are others around Tithe where he has once stationed himself. Some for days, some for weeks. He leaves nothing behind when he relocates, save for the furniture itself. In truth, he takes whatever he can carry from the encampments he infiltrates in the night. He should be moving now. But the light of the looming sun will not allow it. He turns towards Daronais, still seated and bound. It had been some hours since the interrogation. He grabbed the unconscious soldier’s jaw and propped his head up. His left eye where the crimson needle had laid its sting. Black, festering, stretching around his face. Halted now, but still quite a mark. The Lord of Owls takes his free hand and peels the eyelids open, revealing the swollen, milky-white mess underneath. The iris and the sclera have blended together. The pupil is gone, replaced with a puckered crevice where the needle once burrowed. Red stems creep from the back of the lids, reaching for the crevice. The whole thing – disgusting. Why all this? The mark must be made apparent. Identifiable. Known. It will stay with him until he departs from this mortal coil. It will undulate and writhe and fill his head with whispers of horrid things and unbecoming instances. It will drive him unto the brink of sanity and anchor him before the edge. A satisfactory effect. The Lord of Owls detaches his hands from the soldier’s face. He adjourns to a separate table, where many, many more needles lay. All of them are comprised of an ornate metal, with a grip carved into an ornate decoration. Some are unpainted. Others are red. The rest are black. The crimsons’ purpose are known, and the unpainted? Purely mundane. The darkened… those come later. He sifts through them, organizing them, placing them in piles and pouches. He occasionally glosses over at the archaic drawings and elaborations scattered about the desk, sitting by the lantern in the corner. There is too much work to do. But no one else will bear this mantle. Only him.

Kane Bounevialle

@Fat Boy Kyle

When the centaur refused to be taken into custody, it only made the tension build in the alley. Oscar's normally joyful face had turned serious and Kane's expression and poise sank from a dignified to grim, albeit woeful of the coming altercation that would soon arise. He was fortunately proved wrong following the centaur's resignation, and the air itself no longer seemed to weigh a ton as it did before. The two guardsmen relaxed, and Kane rested his spontoon on his shoulder, where Oscar simply sat the bottom of the shield on the ground and leaned against it, once more adopting his silly grin. “Fine!” Said the centaur as he threw his hands down. “Bloody marvelous!” Oscar chimed, beaming a proud smile at Kane. Kane, now feeling relaxed, briefly sighed to himself and looked to Oscar with mild amusement. “But tell me,” the centaur continued, prompting Kane to look back at him, “what is your name? And why won't your pathetic king allow Kuruk or the guards to fight the Legion head on?” Kane would have surrendered a guilty smile were he not on duty. Pathetic king. If there was any one thing in which he could consider himself alike to the brute before him, it'd be their mutual disdain for the king of Talbor. “I am Sir--” 'Damn, I'm still doing that.' “...Captain Kane Bounevialle of the G-2 Maceron guard division. Alongside me is one of my men, Oscar Gene.” Kane answered with a salute, a fist pressed squarely in the center of his armored chest. Oscar, with his smile, followed suit. “I cannot say for certain what the king's motivations are... but the guards and the walls surrounding Maceron is this city's last line of defense, and therefore, are requiring of fortification. The soldiers in Talbor's armies are the offensive branch of this country's military, and are making preparations to mount an offensive as we speak. You are free to fight the Legion as you please, outside the name of Talbor. Though due to their superior numbers and weaponry, that would be foolish.” “In layman's terms,” Oscar added, “we're working on it. You can throw as many rocks at the Legion as you'd like.”

Morag-Nog

It was a true test of self control to stop herself from poking out one of Bartleby's eyes during his... oh so inspiring, speech. It was all... Aggravating. She clenched her cane tightly. S kept looking him in the eyes - one of which she could availability poke out. It was almost like he was mocking her with how she talked tall. Morag-Nog closed her eyes. Killing Red Legion soldiers? Defending her? Ugh. But by the time she had opened her eyes, Bartleby was long gone. The fool ran off somewhere. She sighed, shook her head. Wondering whether she should have taken the opportunity to poke his damn eye out. She could handle herself fine, and, far as she could tell, so could Iro. Whether Bartlebey's claims had any merit was up for debate. But the real question is does she care? If the fool could kill the Red Legion, then good for him. If not, then he's of no concern to her. He's gone, going to "back up" his claims. While Morag-Nog is here, aiming towards real goals. Like giving the world the means of defeating the Red Legion. As Morag-Nog walked, Iro voiced his thoughts about Bartleby lying. Which were pretty much obvious. It's just that the Orcess didn't care enough. "Hmph, anyone can boost...." She said as she continued, with a limp that struggled to keep up with the much more healthy Iro. Fortunately, Iro said to pause for a moment. Giving the Orcess a much needed break. Though she pondered what could make such a stop necessary. She stared at Iro, as he called something. Mitos. Possibly some pet. Plenty of people who lived in Tithe had their own companion. Whether it's a horse, or a beast they have tamed. Morag-Nog herself wasn't a fan of such beasts. While they were convenient for travel, they were messy, and trashed her inventions. But, Morag-Nog was not prepared for whatever beast Iro had. Her eyes widened as it crawled down towards her. A Turtle-Dragon?! Morag-Nog wasn't too versed in the Bestiary of Tithe. She knew enough to know that this was among the rarest of all beasts. Iro asked her if she had food on her. To that, she had to shake her head in response. That would state no, but did she look like the type that would be carrying food? "Unfortunately, no." She answered. Iro made her introduction, and she nodded her head. "It is excellent to make your acquaintance, Iro." She answered, and nodded her head. Yet, she thought it was a perfect opportunity to share her goals. In the faint hopes that someone else could help her. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, they say. So what does she have to lose if she tells someone her goals? "Unlike that man, I meant everything I said back there. I am a inventor. One of the best. And I have made it my mission to get my hand on some Red Legion technology." She stood straight up and tapped her cane on the ground. "It is most likely Tithe's only hope of fighting the Red Legion on even grounds."

Kuruk

@Leonerdo

Kuruk listened as the knights introduced themselves. ‘Kane – Shiny Armour’ he recited to himself, ‘Oscar – Smiley Man Child’. He wasn’t good at remembering names… or faces… or much at all really. Life seemed to boringly treacle by when he wasn’t fighting, and he didn’t care to pay much attention. “I cannot say for certain what the king's motivations are... but the guards and the walls surrounding Maceron is this city's last line of defense, and therefore, are requiring of fortification. The soldiers in Talbor's armies are the offensive branch of this country's military, and are making preparations to mount an offensive as we speak. You are free to fight the Legion as you please, outside the name of Talbor. Though due to their superior numbers and weaponry, that would be foolish.” “In layman's terms,” Oscar added, “we're working on it. You can throw as many rocks at the Legion as you'd like.” Kuruk wagged his dark tail subconsciously when he heard the words ‘mount’ and ‘offensive’, but he was otherwise disappointed at their suggestions. Even he wasn’t foolish enough to try fight a group on soldiers on his own, let alone an entire army. “There must be something Kuruk can do around here?” he moaned, “Can’t even fit in your fucking taverns! You are all too tiny!” It was true, given that the average human height was about a foot and a half smaller than him, that he was unable to enter many of the smaller buildings throughout the city. It wasn’t like he could just crouch around either, given he was a centaur. He was understandably getting bored of having to drink out the front of tavern in the cold, and of spending nights in the stables on the edge of town.

"For the last time, Apollos, no, I am not a dragon rider." Tucker remained mounted on the great blue serpent, which watched those around them with an uncaring glaze in her eyes. It took a step forward, seeing as the strange shouting half-primate had lowered it's metal sabers. Another mole-like creature was offering something to it. It's eyes no longer glazed with boredom, instead harboring a curious glint. She craned her neck and let her nose fall to the bowl and took a smell. Immediately she reeled back, rearing somewhat and forcing Tucker to drive her around the Dorak. The blue drake shook her whole body and seemed to shiver, but was otherwise okay. However, the loud half-primate once again got her attention. She got right up into Apollos' personal space, her large head taking in Apollo's scent as she kept walking, intent on pressing her snout into his sternum. "Heel, Cali." "Well, that's a dragon, and you're riding it." Apollos replied snidely "What's that supposed to make you, a lion tamer?" The drake stopped, growling lowly and turning back to face the man at the base of her shoulders. "Good girl, let's not set anyone off. I dont want you getting hurt." At this point, Darsi, his purpose in life now set to getting the dragon high, wandered off into the tavern to find his sibling. "Azuza wharms..." He mumbled as he plodded towards the entrance. He gently placed the bowl of incense near the base of the door's frame, for reasons unknown. He stood back up and pushed forward. The door swung open as the intoxicated Dorak stumbled in, almost tripping onto the wooden floor beneath him. Most of the folks dotted around the stools and tables were peering out the front windows, wondering what all the commotion was outside. Darsi made a drunken bee-line through the central floor, bumping into tables and seated folks, too high to apologize. "Woodses evil!" He called out, snickering a bit before ending up right in front of Dosi, seated at the bar, alongside an unfamiliar lizard-face. He laughed some more before straightening his stance and saying, "Lots funs going on out in theres." Dosi was... somewhat baffled, and at the same time, embarrased. "Tooth..." He said calmy, pinching his snout in shame. "This is... my... brother. Darsi." Tooth took one look at the sibling and took in the scent of air around him. He cringed, and shook his head. "He's high as a kite." he said flatly. "Althought I should've expected that... It's nice to... meet him?" he said, trailing off as he didn't consider this the official meeting between the two. Being as he didn't know how differently Darsi was when sober. He tilted his head and looked over Darsi's shoulder to see the empty bar. "I'm surprised no one saw the drake on the way here. I figured it was trained or something." he said, shrugging. "Oh well, free drink for you all, if you want them." he wasn't a heavy drinker himself. He wasn't a happy drunk, but he sure could appreciate it when others were that way. Darsi kept up that impeccably stupid grin on his face. He raised his hand and slowly inched his pointer finger towards Tooth, wagging it. It was homing in on the Saurian's chest, intent on poking it for absolutely no good reason. Tooth stood stock still, not really intending on moving unless Darsi legitimately started bothering him. The high-as-a-kite Dorak's finger made contact with Tooth's chest, and he retracted it after a solid few moments. Neither of the two said a word to each other. Dosi finally decided to speak up and ask his brother, "What happened out there?" "There's was, uh..." Darsi began, trailing off a bit, "A JERGAN outsides. It's was gohn tah eat this, this's wyrm with... SOHRDS, y'see? And I, and I-" "Okay, nevermind." Dosi interrupted, raising his hand. "Darsi, this man here? His name is Tooth. He's a Saurian, and he's going to show us around the area a bit." Darsi turned his head to Tooth once more and let out a "Hah!" He extended his arms and approached Tooth with the intent of hugging him. That didn't happen. Tooth simply held him at bay, rather easily, with one arm. "Lets uh, lets let the touchy feely thing happen later." Tooth said, laughing lightly at Darsi's behavior. Darsi chuckled as well, though it quickly turned to heaving, plus some keeling over. A few coughs, and he was back upright. "Where's we gone?" He asked, looking at Dosi. Dosi, subsequently, turned to Tooth. Waiting for an answer. Tooth flicked his tongue and reached into his satchel at the question. He seemed to dig around for a minute before he let of a quick, "There it is!" and pulled out a piece of paper. When he unfurled it, a map of Tithe was drawn across the parchment. "I'm easy," he said, "Pick a city, and we'll head there. I'll show you the way and... well, show you around." Dosi passed a glance at the map in Tooth's hands. He shot Darsi a similar glance, and then back to the map. "I..." Dosi muttered, somewhat confused. "We, uh... don't really have any idea what everywhere else in Tithe is like. And we only just got here, in Capital City. Karkada could use a bit of rest, too." "Then we can remain as long as you'd like. I'll show you the commerce centers so you can sell your..." Tooth said, looking from Dosi to Darsi for a moment. "...Sell your wares." he said, shrugging. "If you get in trouble with the law, I had nothing to do with it, agreed?" "Oh, Darsi's well enough behaved." Dosi replied, "He's just..." They both watched Darsi as he counted the fingers on his hands, waving them about. "Whimsical." "I'll trust you on that."

@Mr Allen J Iro shrugged his shoulders and sighed heavily, as if releasing a weight from his back. “So the rumors of their advanced technology is true.” he said “I had heard rumors that they possess crossbows which shoot shards of metal at enemies using fire, and massive wrought-iron contraptions which black boulders of metal through the air, but I assumed such things to be propaganda. But I suppose the threat is real now.” Mitos looked up at him with sad eyes as they walked and Iro patted him on the head. He’d best be careful not to frighten the small one. While Mitos seemed to care about nothing but eating, Iro knew that he was intelligent and could understand things better than one would expect. Soon they arrived at the castle, where a guard begrudgingly gestured Iro and Morag in the direction of the hospital, a long, church-shaped stone building extending from the castle’s central hall. The castle was stoic and grey, made of large blocks of stone and fortified at certain intervals with steel beams. The walls of the castle were all patrolled by guards wielding crossbows, and each entrance to the keep was guarded by six men and a wrought iron portcullis. The portcullises were opened, and the citizens of town were pouring in, all of them attempting to avoid the impending Red Legion attack. They heard what happened to Hadrentown in the mountains, and none of them wanted to experience that. Upon arriving at the main entrance to the castle, two guards wielding halberds stopped Iro at the gate entrance and a third man began to search Mitos. “What is the meaning of this?” Iro asked angrily. “We need to check you and your mount for any possible explosives.” the guard grunted in reply “We certainly do not want any spies getting into the castle.” “Spies?” Iro asked. “Yes, there have been a few reports of Red Legion agents sneaking around the city disguised as foreign travellers. We haven’t caught any yet, but someone like you-” “is obviously a Fairfolk high priest.” a lofty voice came from the inside of the castle great hall. The clopping of hooves on stone echoed around the cold walls as Sir Fallon approached. He was a high, haughty-looking man, slim and muscular with a perfectly-sculpted goatee adorning his upturned face. He wore a black leather jack of plates over a white linen shirt, with trousers on his legs and a pair of well-made black leather boots adorned with golden buckles. An arming sword with a ram’s-head-shaped pommel rested on his right hip. “Sir Fallon!” both guards went down on one knee. “This man is a Fairfolk, you knaves!” Fallon said to them “The Red Legion burns Fairfolk alive and puts their ashes in their gunpowder. Let the poor man through. I’m sure that he means no harm.” “Y-yes, m’lord.” the guards trembled “You-you may pass.” “Thank you, gentlemen.” Iro said, walking into the castle “And thanks to you as well, Sir Fallon.” “You’re certainly welcome, fair physician.” Fallon replied “These men will direct you to the hospital.” At the nod of his head, the men rose from their knelt position, whispered “yes, m’lord”, and began to escort Iro and Morag towards the hospital. “You do not have to accompany me, Morag.” Iro said “I don’t know what kinds of wounds I will find in this place, and some may be quite unsettling.” @Fat Boy Kyle @Leonerdo As the scene involving the dragon unfolded, Bjorn stood at the front door of the Snorting Dragon, his arms crossed and his right hand a few inches from the pommel of his sword. The situation played out well, and no one was hurt. As he began to walk back into the bar, brushing past a Dorak and a saurian as he walked back towards his seat at the bar. Before reaching it, someone cried out loudly “Where’s the Orc! Tell me of the Legion!” Bjorn turned towards the source of the shout, a scantily-clad shade standing by the door to the bar’s cellar, and he frowned, angered by her flippant response. “In my land, we treat our elders with respect,” Bjorn growled back “but I suppose this is not my land. I know little of the Red Legion, but they attacked Talbor two weeks ago and it is said that they are preparing an attack on Nepharie. I have come here to attempt to learn more about them.” Asher, in the meantime, left the bar and removed her travelling cloak, revealing her butterfly-like wings folded against her back. She dropped the cloak on the ground near the entrance and, taking wing, fluttered across the courtyard, watching from the air as the scene unfolded. She landed next to an old gnomish man who was looking up at the dragon with keen interest in his eyes. Something told her that he was an alchemist. “It’s a shame the dragon has an owner.” Asher said to him “A full-sized dragon in the middle of a city filled with guards is quite the gold mine for potion ingredients.” Speaking of guards, about ten of them now ran towards the dragon. They wore green and silver padded tunics with a green and silver argyle pattern, with steel spaulders, rerebraces, and vambraces protecting their shoulders and arms. On their heads, they wore silver burgonet helmets and armored greaves on their feet, protecting their feet and shins. They wielded long pikes and green tower shields trimmed in silver, though most city guards wielded lucerne hammers without shields or crossbows. Leading them was a guard captain, who dressed similarly to the normal guards with the exception of a breastplate, a chainmail tasset, and a caged burgonet protecting his face. He wore a green cape with the Nepharie cockatrice in the middle in silver, and wielded a basket-hilted broadsword. “Back, dragon!” the captain cried out, oblivious of the man on the dragon’s back “Leave our kingdom or we’ll turn you into a throw rug!” For a minute or two, both sides of the river stood silently, Arrond’s eyes not looking away from the eyes of the Red Legion captain. Soon the crowd of people began to leave and headed towards the city’s castle, hoping to find some refuge there. Coming against the flow of traffic were a regiment of longbowmen, three hundred strong, and up in the castle barracks, one thousand footmen were armoring up, as well as seventy more Nordavind to join the two hundred already present near the bridge. Luke slunk off through the crowd, moving towards a rocky cliff in the northeast part of town, where a pile of copper boulders sat inconspicuously propped against the brown cliff face. Arrond looked side-to-side along the river gorge. The city architects, of course, built buildings all along the edge of the Juvegol side of the river, some of which had cellars that stuck out into the gorge. They never built a wall because they believed that the river, being about two hundred yards across, would be just out of range of enemy longbowmen. Arrond knew that these men had much longer-range weapons, though. From here, one of their cannons could probably fire uninhibited into the center of the city. He looked down at the minotaur dangling over the edge of the gorge. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Arrond said “The river runs too swiftly for even a warrior such as yourself to cross.” Arrond looked down at Tari, who approached him from the opposite side. Tari was annoying, but she was also quite attractive, so Arrond let her slide. “It’s the Red Legion.” he said “They’re attempting to cross the river. They claim that they want passage to the North, and that they mean no harm. Obviously, they’re lying.” Then he turned to Sikharthis. "Sikharthis!" he shouted "Do you have any men in the city?"

Morag-Nog

"Yes, yes..." Morag-Nog said in agreement with Iro as he noted some pieces of technology. The Orcess heard of many of their technological feats. By asking around, of course. Most of them were rumors, but Morag-Nog knew that these "rumors" couldn't have just popped out of the blue. If only getting some real live evidence would be as easy as asking around for some rumors. But that doesn't matter right now. "I've heard plenty about them..." She tapped her cane on the ground hard, and looked to the side. The crowds were still panicking. Don't those fools know anything? Morag-Nog groaned as her gaze turned back onto Iro. "... But, between the two of us, I'd rather not be on the receiving end of those weapons." She said as she continued on their journey. It felt like forever before they arrived at the castle, where they were greeted by the guards of the city. Kind people. Morag-Nog took a step back the moment they "introduced" themselves with their weapons. What pleasant forces. Paranoid and useless as always. If she could fix anything in this city, she would root these useless fools out, and replace them with someone actually competent. Such as Kane. Morag-Nog rolled her eyes as they continued. She didn't speak, but she listened. Once the mention of spies came up, their paranoia became a lot more justified. Spies change everything, which explains why they didn't just tear this city down the first chance they got. However, the whole situation was instantly defused when a lord came up and announced himself. Morag-Nog perked up, and examined the man. Giving how he has these two bowing to him, he must be high up on this city's foodchain. She didn't bow herself - because, she bows to no man. Iro didn't either. Her theory that Iro wasn't quite human was confirmed. He was a fairfolk. A species that is preyed upon by the vicious Red Legion... Another reason to help destroy them in her eyes. Sir Fallon allowed Iro and herself through the doors into the castle. Which was very kind of him. At least someone has to the brains to get something done here. However, Iro stopped and said that she didn't have to come with him. That she could stop at any time. Well, that was true. Because if Morag-Nog didn't want to go, she would have stopped following him by now and went to do whatever. But, the Orcess inventor thought about it for a bit. At this point, Morag-Nog knew that leaving now would be stupid. There's no way in hell that she would get anything constructive done on her own. Other than stand around with a thumb up her ass and hope for the best. And... Iro seems like the type she'd stick to. If she was to get her hands on some Red Legion technology - even if the chances were slim - she knew it would be with him. "Then I choose to accompany you, Iro. I don't think anyone else here is capable of getting anything done like you can." Morag-Nog nodded her head. "Lead the way."