Upon seeing this, The Storyteller was struck with a sudden idea. It was an idea that had never been tried in any version of this story he'd ever heard of. But that was because there were no wishing rings in the versions of this story he'd collected. There was a chance it wouldn't work, but it was still worth a try. The Storyteller took back his ring and put it on. "Eru" The Storyteller said as he held his ring clad fist aloft Green Lantern style "I wish that Erudessa had in fact won her battle with the Warlock!".

Upon seeing this, The Storyteller was struck with a sudden idea. It was an idea that had never been tried in any version of this story he'd ever heard of. But that was because there were no wishing rings in the versions of this story he'd collected. There was a chance it wouldn't work, but it was still worth a try. The Storyteller took back his ring and put it on. "Eru" The Storyteller said as he held his ring clad fist aloft Green Lantern style "I wish that Erudessa had in fact won her battle with the Warlock!".

Nothing happened.

Sadron picked up his staff and rapped it on the floor. "It is time for you to embark on your quest," he said simply. With that, he turned and walked away. Arandur gave one look at the Storyteller before following suit.

A wish?

What would we do with a wish? How much could be done with a wish?
I...I wish...

Kaite dropped the ring in awe of what was happening, unsure if the magic was even answering to Tiberius's command. Introspection dawned as the ring fell to offer the three letters to the knight.

I wish I could have stopped him...I wish he wasn't such a fool...I wish I could go home. I wish mother would speak to me, again...I wish I just left him there! I wish I was a blacksmith! I wish...I wish the world would leave me alone!

I wish I could go home...

Dabbing her face with the tattered cloak, Kaite knelt to retrieve the ring and stuffed it into her pack. Staring down for a moment, she took a deep breath to compose herself and glared up at the angelic figure in silence where others surely had questions or other comments along Sadron's lines. Kaite rejected the supposed wish, disbelieving of the rings and especially of their power to so simply call forth the dead. The final straw was the supposed 'storyteller' making a wish to mend time and return life to the slain high-elf.

Silence fell over the scene as the wish was unrequited, magic conceived by gods and men lacking the strength to undo past failures. Sadron set off with a tap of his staff to signify the beginning of their quest. "What did you think would happen?" Kaite growled after a few moments, teeth grit as she wrestled with shouldering her gear. "A trinket fixing a permanence...phteh" she spat through her grumbling while loading their pack with the rest of the provided provisions. Settling the helmet back on her head, the visor snapped shut and locked seemingly on its own while she threw her hood back up. "Maybe in a fairytale." The voices were thrilled and each one had an angle to offer about death, though Kaite wasn't in the mood to listen.

Wishing rings? That sounded too good to be true, though the sudden appearance of this angelic being after Tiberius had made his wish peaked Ivan's curiousity. Sadron and Arandur had taken their leave and pretty much said for the group to head out.

"Time to go? Well... A wish before we hit the road can't hurt... Eru..." Ivan whispered his wish. "I wish... I wish I could bring honor back to my fallen house..." After he had said his wish, he placed the ring in his pack. He was hoping that it would at least do something. "Now then... Whats this angel looking person want with us?"

When nothing happened, The Storyteller brought down his arm as his mind unwrapped itself from his spontaneous idea and hindsight kicked in. "The stories never end that simply" he commented in agreement with his companion as he looked ad the ring that sat on the ring finger of his left hand (Or his magic hand as The Storyteller liked to call it) "But even so, it was worth a try".

It was then that a familiar voice spoke up from somewhere in the back of his mind. 'The Storyteller's test was very astute' the voice said in a tone similar to that of a narrator telling a story 'Now it is time to test his powers of deduction. Hint: The fact that the ring did nothing upon receiving the wish is significant'.

As the voice died away, The Storyteller's face morphed from the shocked expression he had when the voice spoke up to an expression of confusion and then to 1 of thoughtful deduction. 'The word 'Eru' inscribed on the ring The Storyteller thought to himself 'Which itself is an abbreviation for Erudessa. And the appearance of an angel signifies that this is help from beyond the grave. Therefore, Erudessa is the 1 granting these wishes but she must be dead to do so. As such, any wish to prevent her death or to bring her back will not be granted'.

The Storyteller came out of his thoughts just in time to hear Ivan ask about the angel. "Oh that's just Tiberius" The Storyteller replied "He just turned into an angel to let us know that Erudessa is helping us out from the afterlife with wishing rings. And knowing my luck, I've just wasted my wish".

@rush99999@Darkmoon Angel@Hawlin@Thinslayer@Lord ZeeA wish? Laina thought to herself. She turned the ring in her hand, watching it catch the light before she slipped it onto her index finger. She hears one man explaining about the ring while the others all try it out. I must keep it in case of an emergency Laina gets off of the floor when she hears Sadron's order and brushes off her skirts. She should've worn something more for an adventure than for a tea party so she raises a pale hand as if she were in a student in a classroom and asks "Would it be fine if I could go and change into something more suited to this adventure?"Her face burns, she hates being the one to stop everyone else but unless she was going to slow them down when they were running this was the only way that she could avoid the situation right now.

@Hawlin

"Yeh, neh, to be quite honest it's because I did not introduce myself." The half elf growled, and Dia brought her head back in dismay. It was quite rude to be honest, and she expected that from an orc or human but of someone with ties to her own? Hmph. The woman than pardoned herself "Pardon...I am 'Sir' Jericho Kaite of Ispar. Kaite will do, and I guess I am more used to happy hours than garden parties" Kaite said, a chuckle following close behind. "Where I come from, every thing is a garden party." Dia said, a small smirk across her pink lips as she put her hand up waving it. "Don't worry about it." Dia said, but in her mind she would remember the incident.

"Lady Durvain was slain by the Warlock."

Sadron's announcement was met with a few gasps and comments. Though Dionaea hadn't met her personally, her stories held her in high regards, despite being the leader of the humans. There were tales of her blessing households of need and being one of the most cunning of the High Council, and for that Dia found her to be inspirational. Dia's hands fell into her lap, listening to the other members of the part speak before Sadron listed off the role of each member.

"Dionaea Sycamore, you shall be the party's scout, to guide them safely through the perils before them."

Dia's eyes widened. She what? A guide for these people? Dia didn't even have shoes on let alone the capabilities to lead these people, they would laugh at her surely. She remained quiet, nodding. She would accept this task either way. It would be an honor to serve the high council, she required no payment besides her name spoken about. That is what her parents would have wanted as well.

"I suppose now is an excellent time to provide you the supplies you'll need on your journey. Each chest contains food and survival gear. It is all yours, so you may take what you want before departing. I trust Xen will let you know when to depart." Sadron said as Dia took part with the group gearing herself with all the items she found necessary, especially a pair of shoes. With the chaos of the rings, Dia just watched and listened. She didn't like to deal with the unknown too often, and this was very much an unknown.

She slipped the ring onto her slender fingers and would make use of it at another time, when she felt it was right.

@rush99999@Darkmoon Angel@Hawlin@Thinslayer@Lord ZeeA wish? Laina thought to herself. She turned the ring in her hand, watching it catch the light before she slipped it onto her index finger. She hears one man explaining about the ring while the others all try it out. I must keep it in case of an emergency Laina gets off of the floor when she hears Sadron's order and brushes off her skirts. She should've worn something more for an adventure than for a tea party so she raises a pale hand as if she were in a student in a classroom and asks "Would it be fine if I could go and change into something more suited to this adventure?"Her face burns, she hates being the one to stop everyone else but unless she was going to slow them down when they were running this was the only way that she could avoid the situation right now.

Sadron ignored her and continued walking.

Arandur decided to pick up the slack. "I wouldn't worry about clothing," he said. "There are a collection of spells we could cast that are dedicated to clothing preservation. For most other hazards, the cloak we provided should be sufficient, and that ring should provide adequate protection against enemies if it works like I think it does. You're fine. I'll cast the requisite spells shortly."

Xen's eyes never left Sadron as he spoke of recent events. The death of one of the Triumvirate was indeed a blow to the political order of the world. He never cared much of the machinations of the politics of the world, especially when incompetence was at the root of it. He also stood in silence as he let the others meander and ask their questions, sifting through the chests providing equipment. The ring did pique his interest, which led to an even more curious question: If Erudessa had crafted these rings to give to them, then she saw her impending doom. Why had she not warned others, or simply avoided the situation entirely? What sort of game was being played?
He walked over to the remaining chest and took only the rations and the ring, pocketing both into the satchel at his side. He smoothed out his robes as he pulled back the cowl, turning to face everyone gathered. His eyes were deep and his face showed some signs of aging with black hair spilling down the sides of his face. Several braids were woven into his otherwise straight hair and rested on his collar. What he saw in front of him was a mismatch of some of the oddest people. Though all possessed skills necessary for such an undertaking, he wasn't impressed. They would need to learn to work together and to trust each other if they had any hope of surviving the coming maelstrom. Then, for the first time since coming, he spoke, his tone even and soft.

"I want all of you to go to town tonight. Indulge in whatever youthful proclivity you may have." He looked at each of them in turn, his face betraying no emotion. "I want all of you to look deep within yourselves this night. Peer deep within your soul. The road ahead of us will be an arduous one, marred with blood and crushed bone. With murder, death, and destruction. You will witness horrors your very nightmares will run from." He let the words linger in the air a moment before turning and limping slowly toward each and every one of them, looking them in the eyes.

"I care not why you fight, but that you fight. Reach for your courage and hold onto it. We will depend on each other in the coming days. Tomorrow, find me at the western gate. If you decide to stay, no one will think less." After finishing his speech, he walked over to Arandur and leaned into his ear. After a couple of nods, Xen followed after Sadron. A strategem must be discussed.

@XenoCyanide
After Laina hears Xen's words she quickly stores all the supplies into the bag she has next to her and moves her way out of the crowd of her fellow adventurers. "I suppose I will see you all tomorrow...I will be at the town centre if anyone needs me."Laina waves a hand in a farewell and makes her way to the town centre. The wind stings her cheeks and she rushes along quickly. She reaches a clothing stall at the market and smiles at the shopkeeper, a beautiful young dwarf."Hello there, could I have a white tanktop and some of those pants please?"She asks in her beautiful tinkly voice, she then hands over some coins as she takes in her wares, folds them up and places them in her bag. She moves onto another stall with a scarred, huge elf as the shopkeeper. "How much for that protective cloak? and that long sword?" The elf grumbles an answer, she hands over some coins and takes the armor and weapon.

After Laina has purchased enough she heads back to her building. She shares the rooms of the building with other people of course but she supposes they aren't home today. She opens the door of her own room, placing her newly purchased items down, gently on the table before making her way to her desk where she picks up a piece of paper and a pen.
Dear Family,
I am to be embarking on a dangerous journey to help our world. I still keep to my promise I have made with you sister and will find the item. If I am to perish I will join you. Please, even though I wish to see your faces again, bless me with your kindness and protect me from any harm I shall come across in these lands.
Love,
Laina.
Once she finishes her note she throws it into the fire where she watches it disintegrate. A tear slips down her cheek and she heads back out of the house into the clear night air where she can hopefully get her mind off of everything.

Edit: Changed the staff to a long sword.

@XenoCyanide
Sadron and Xen moved to a more secluded building around the corner. It was sparsely decorated, with only a table, a few chairs, a map, and a crystal ball. Sadron threw another log into the fireplace and sat down in one of the chairs.

"So tell me, Xen. What do you know of our enemy so far?"

As their leader's words The Storyteller nodded and departed down a nearby empty. As he walked towards the exit, The Storyteller looked at the silver ring on his finger. "I wonder if you can hear us speak when we aren't trying to make our wish" The Storyteller said "I hope you can. The council promised to listen to my stories at the end of the meeting, but I think Sadron and Arandur have had enough of me for now. And that leaves just you...If you can even hear me, that is".
'Well I can hear you, that's for sure' the voice chimed in 'Although I couldn't tell you if that elf girl your trying to talk to can hear you. The afterlife has never really been in my line of sight. But whether she's listening or not, I wouldn't mind listening too'.
'You again?' The Storyteller thought in response as he lowered his arm to his side '...I thought you'd want to wait until I was done collecting stories'.
'A story or 2 now wouldn't hurt' the voice replied 'And besides, do you know how many empty pages are left in that book of mine? You're almost there, Storyteller. All you have to do is fill those pages and you can have your story back'.
'Sounds simple enough' The Storyteller replied 'This next tale should fill up those pages nicely'.
The voice chuckled darkly. 'The stories never end that simply' the voice replied 'Even with the potential size of this story, it won't be enough. There will still be a few empty pages. And this time, there are some new rules regarding the contents of these pages. Each of your companions has a story hidden within them. You might say they each serve as most diverting...subplot to this grand tale you're about the embark upon. I want you to feature in the subplots in any capacity you can, from a sentence long cameo to completely upstaging the star of the subplot. It doesn't matter to me, just so long as you're mentioned before its resolution and that mention somehow aids in reaching the resolution. After that, I want you to record them like your supposed to. No other stories matter now. Only the grand tale and its subplots'.
'Why?' The Storyteller asked.
'Yours is not to reason why, yours is but to do or die' the voice replied 'Now then, what about those stories you wanted to share?'.

As their leader's words The Storyteller nodded and departed down a nearby empty. As he walked towards the exit, The Storyteller looked at the silver ring on his finger. "I wonder if you can hear us speak when we aren't trying to make our wish" The Storyteller said "I hope you can. The council promised to listen to my stories at the end of the meeting, but I think Sadron and Arandur have had enough of me for now. And that leaves just you...If you can even hear me, that is".

A little glow of warmth spread through his hand around the ring.

She was listening.

<Snipped quote by rush99999>

A little glow of warmth spread through his hand around the ring.

She was listening.

Every time the voice spoke to him, an eerie chill would always spread throughout The Storyteller's body. This coupled with the fact that he was speaking with the being who had taken his memories had always unnerved The Storyteller and filled him with a sense of loneliness and powerlessness in spite of his great magical power and how many people are present when the voice speaks up. But this time something was different. As the voice inquired after stories, The Storyteller felt a small glow of warmth spread throughout his left hand, as if someone with warm hands was holding his cold left hand. He immediately knew that Erudessa was listening and felt a lot less lonely as he strode though the exit telling the tale of an adventure 2 brothers shared over the garden wall to the voice, Erudessa, and anyone who passed within earshot of The Storyteller as he walked onwards.

Tiberius was absolutely taken aback by the events that transpired after his fateful wish. He should have put two and two together earlier, Eru was the first three letters in Erudessa's name so of course she had to be the one behind this right? When the image of the Angel faded from his skin, he looked at the ring again, with an inquisitive expression upon his face. It left more questions then answers to Tiberius. Who had sent him that letter? Had it been Erudessa or someone else entirely? It couldn't have been Erudessa, he hadn't even known her, right? These questions turned his face into a frown as he completely spaced out everything else that was going on in the room until Xen'Desh Idlindra stood in front of him and he snapped back into reality.

So, the old man wanted them to take the day off before beginning tomorrow? It was disappointing to say the least but Tiberius understood that some of the others probably saw it as a godsend. He only itched for answers to his questions and realized that he probably wouldn't find them here at least. Without saying a word, he bowed respectively, grabbed his helmet and left High Council Hill down the steps whence he came. He needed to be alone for a bit and process everything that was going on, so he put his helmet on and began walking.

His little walk took him next to a small pond with a willow tree drooping over its clear waters. Fish darted too and fro and all manner of other creatures could be seen as well. He went under the tree and unsheathed his sword, looked at it and remembered the first time he had killed. He sank to his knees, holding the sword with both hands now over top his knees and sat overlooking the pond. He shut his eyes and reflected upon the others that he had seen today, and Sadron's words came to mind.

"Xen'Desh Idlindra, I want you to lead this party, to bring hope and light to a war-torn world." He had never seen or met this man before but if Sadron picked him to be the leader, then he obviously had his reasons to do so. He wondered what he was capable of, he surely spoke with a sense of authority that only came with age and Tiberius reckoned he's probably seen many things. He just hoped he would be a good leader.

"Storyteller, I want you to record everything that transpires to the official history." The storyteller, an odd title for even odder man. Tiberius wondered if he even had a name. Regardless, he was sure the Storyteller was a capable man and a fighter. If not then he would be proven wrong in the coming days.

"Dionaea Sycamore, you shall be the party's scout, to guide them safely through the perils before them." The scout, nothing more then a young wood elf in appearance. Tiberius wondered if she had done anything like this before but would be more then happy to teach her a few things on personal protection. He was most worried about her actually and made a pact with himself, that he would look after her. It would probably help if he got to know her though.

"Laina Silverstide, you shall be the party's healer, to bring them home when all is done." So, she was to be the healer then? That helped explain the books she cared with her. She was one of the few that tried to strike up a conversation with the group and he had responded. She seemed nice, if a little naive and he would probably have to watch over her as well. She was also one of the few people that Tiberius was concerned about and he would probably watch over her and Dionaea, more so then the others.

"Kaitra Elzbrn, you shall be the party's first brawler, a mighty fist to crush their foes." Kaite. Her appearance and demeanor surprised him a little. She had been one of the only ones to ask about compensation and that slightly rubbed him the wrong way. Tiberius felt sorry for her, something must have happened to her to make her the way she was, as it always goes. He'd be looking forward to see how reliable she would be in battle

"Ivan Stormwall, you shall be the party's second brawler, a bolt from the gods to smite evildoers. Ivan looked like a capable warrior and a good person, at least from his appearance. Tiberius would also be looking forward to see how capable he was in the heat of battle.

"Zenovia Almire, you shall be the party's mage, the hand of the gods." Then there was Zenovia Almire. He hadn't really even seen her good enough to have an opinion of her, to be honest. He was so wrapped up in what was going on that it slipped from his mind. A mage though? Well, every party needs one of those he thought.

Then there was himself, the groups paladin. He would try his best to protect these people, regardless of how well he knew them or their personal backgrounds. If they went on this quest, then had their back, he just hoped they would have his when the time came. he breathed in deeply and prepared himself for the journey to come.

@XenoCyanide

Zenovia watched as some of the others tried to work out what the rings did. She couldn't help but let an expression of surprise appear on her face as one of the men seemed to have angel wings upon wishing upon the ring. The young elf looked at the ring, giving it a quick second examination. She didn't really understand what this was all about, but it seemed that Sardon had no idea about it either. She slipped the ring onto her middle finger, staring at it for another moment. Nothing strange seemed to happen. Perhaps she needed to wish for something? That would have to come another time, as she didn't want to waste her wish on something trivial.

Her gaze moved to another man who began speaking like a leader. Zenovia could only assume that this man was Xen, the leader of their group. She felt quite confident in this man and the spirits around him seemed to agree with her sentiments. Following her 'orders', she quietly separated from the group, going over to the town. She wasn't sure what she was going to do here, perhaps buy a staff? 'Mages use staves right..? She wondered as she walked into a store. It indeed sold staves, but perhaps they needed to be magical? Most the staves, or 'walking sticks' as they were labelled, had different animal shapes carved out of the wood to serve as the handle. Charming.

"Excuse me, Are any of your wares.. uh.. Magical?" She asked the shopkeeper. The old man looked at her curiously for a moment before nodding.
"One of them is, although it's a little on the weak side. Most of my wares are stock standards for your average traveler. so don't expect anything too fancy from a stick." The old man chuckled as he walked into his store room. He wasn't gone for too long, holding a raven headed staff.

"The man who sold this wood to me told me that it was made from a special tree that had soaked up residual magic. I doubted him for the most part and bought it purely for it's coloration. I had it appraised the other day. Seemed he was right, but as I said, it's a weak one. Apparently it'll only serve as a mere conduit." He explained, showing the young elf the staff.

Zenovia asked about the price, only to find out that it was a little outside her budget, not that she really had much to budget to begin with. "Sorry.. It seems that I can't afford it. Maybe I'll just buy a regular walking stick." She said, feeling a little defeated already.
"Tell you what. I'll give it to you for the amount you have, but you'll have to mind the front of the shop for me for today. I got some carving to do out back." He said with a grin.
"You must be joking. Surely you can't trust me like that so easily?" She replied in disbelief, placing her coin pouch on the counter. How does this man know that she wouldn't steal anything.
"Of course I'm joking, you silly girl! Take it~" The old man laughed, counting the girl's coins in his hands. Zenovia could feel her face turn hot with embarrassment. What did she expect from such a funny old man?

The young elf walked out of the shop with her newly acquired staff. She could feel the faint energy within it. It was.. really weak. She sighed as she walked into the town square. She didn't really know what to do now. She didn't know what 'Youthful proclivities' Xen was referring to since she had spent most of her life quite removed from other people. Zenovia felt her mind wander as she thought about it, her gaze following the small spirits that lingered in this town.

Xen stared into the fireplace for a moment, contemplating upon the events of the past hour. His brows furrowed as his eyes closed, the index and thumb of his right hand coming to meet the bridge of his nose. "You are a fool, Sadron." He sighed, moving towards the table and the map. "Have the years been so unkind as to cloud your wisdom?" Xen smirked subtly, knowing the jab would undoubtedly irritate him. "It has been long, old friend."
He placed his staff against the chair, leaning it carefully until it bore its own weight. He unfolded the map, running placement weights to the edges and leaned across the table against his knuckles. "I know only what you have told me, and not to underestimate them. They have already taken the Dwarven lands, this much you are certain. Do we know of any allies there?" His mind's eye played across the map, charting courses and highlighting likely enemy movement and encampments. If they are structured and organized, as they would likely be, they would have established headquarters in several key areas, taking over fortified positions. He wondered if there were any friends to be found in these lands. Those dwarves who would not kneel.

@Thinslayer

@XenoCyanide
Sadron withdrew his pipe for a moment to chuckle. "A fool I am indeed, old friend. Their dwarven alliance is fleeting, at best. The orcs and dwarves have been feuding for decades, and even Arandur has been unable to dissuade them. No, I smell a rat. I think it is a ruse to distract us from orcen territory. Fellmore used to pose little threat because it was so fragmented, on the order of nearly a hundred separate states at one point. If they ever united, they would be a grave threat. Already, a hundred has condensed into two. The Warlock is primarily responsible for this, but I have reason to believe other forces are in play stopping him. Rumor has it that his attempt to reunite with northern Fellmore was like hitting a brick wall. The northern orcs were never very influential, leading me to believe that they have found some considerable outside advantage. And it is not the dwarves, because those mountains are nigh-on impassable in either direction."

He reached out and pointed to a rocky region south of the Fellmore pass. "There's good copper here, useful for bronze weaponry. The southern orcs have taken it and used it to upgrade from stone to bronze equipment. The iron mines are not far away, just a few miles west of here, held by a small contingent of dwarves. If I were an orc leader, I would make some kind of trade agreement with the dwarves for the iron, but I'm not sure what the orcs are giving in return, as Fellmore is pretty barren of natural resources. One way or another, we need eyes and ears up there."

Meanwhile, several hundred miles to the north along the banks of the Lonely River in Fellmore, were three hundred orcs stopping for water before crossing the river to their next target. It was the first water they'd found in days, and it was a godsend for the drought-stricken army. Their captain, a slender figure clad from head to toe in form-fitting steel armor, stood with her arms crossed as she watched her soldiers fill their canteens with life-giving fluid.

"You're shivering," said a gruff voice.
She glanced back at the orc who spoke. It was her lieutenant, a powerful orc called Gorman. He couldn't see her scowl, no thanks to the visor and hood she kept perpetually over her face, but her tone gave it away. "Shut up," she retorted crossly.
The orc grinned back. "Suit yourself."

The captain decided she'd waited long enough and moved to fill her own canteen. She dipped the leather container into the icy water and sealed it off before turning to face her men. Their faces looked so gaunt, so weary, yet so filled with determination that she couldn't help feeling a sense of motherly pride in them. She trusted them, and they her. Today, she would test them yet again. Once the last of them finished filling their waterskins, she cleared her throat and raised her left hand, a signal for their attention.

Their murmurs faded into obedient silence. The chilly wind seeped through her gauntlet. She swallowed hard, knowing that these orcs, her orcs, would obey her next command without fail, even to the death.

"You boys ready?" she barked.
"Oi sir!" came the resounding reply.
"Then let's ride!"

The captain slung herself onto her warg with the rest of the army and charged through the river. There was no more time now left for doubts. These soldiers put their faith in her, and she vowed never to let them down. Their war cries and the shrill shrieks of their enemies pierced the air until the dawn.