"What am I glad not to have decided for the bajonet option..." An-Hasst lowly mumbled to himself in a bit of a sarcastic tone. One really couldn't count him to those who, on the one hand, called themselves warriors, but on the other hand couldn't stand a decent amount of disembowelment without making their upper gastrointestinal tract go into reverse. Nevertheless this didn't exclude the ability to be happy about not having to come in touch with it on one occasion.

The Skayleigh stepped closer, putting the large crossbow back into place on his back. Why wasn't he surprised about Settionne being the first to speak up and make contact with the lizardman ? Yet despite the little sense of foreboding, the half-giant didn't clearly see the point behind the short priest's speech until he implied that there could very well be 'more pressing concerns' than possibly saving half the world from the doom breaking out of its centre.

Once the - let's say cunning - play was detected, An-Hasst couldn't help but turn around so the lizardman could not see him chuckling. With his colossal body vibrating, the Skayleigh started to build up some distance to the scene and check for the other party members' faces to find out if they were thinking the same.

@POOHEAD189@BCTheEntity@The Fated Fallen

No sooner had the beast fallen than the priest had started to spiel. He started like a mummer, praising the Lizardman in the same cheap and rosy flattery as he did Vanya. Painting the creature as some sort of hero, no doubt. Alice didn't deny it was, but the decorum on these sort of things is you didn't point it out. Despite the rough edges of a commoner and almost complete lack of subtlety, she still identified him trying to bait some curiosity out of the creature. Had they been talking to anything but a tribal she would have already assumed failure and probably insult to the beast, but she kept her tongue in check and hoped.

Alice instead strode over to her companion Geradin and studied the creature. The ever changing ecology made it so she was unsurprised to not recognise the creature. She couldn't even really relate it to another ancestor creature, it was that obscure to her. Unlike many of her mage brethren, however, she didn't much stomach the idea of cutting it up just to find out, especially since it having 'no edible meats' meant most likely it was toxic in some way (making it even more smelly).

Geradin was already smiling and laughing with Beren, in the way that Dwarfs do make fast friends with each other. Geradin offered her a skin of ale, "Well done lassy!" she took it and took a heavy draught. "Did you see us?" he continued "I told the creature, I told it 'we've faced worse than you' and it didn't believe me! Ha! I wouldn't have had it any other way, imagine if it had run at the sight of us!"

Alice continued to listen to the two Dwarfs raucous banter, as they all shared the ale that was by far cooler than the sticky swamp air

@POOHEAD189

As the band of adventurers gathered around the corpse of the freshly-slain bog beast, an old priest rushed out of the woods holding a notebook and approached the band of adventurers. It was fairly obvious that the old man was intrigued by the ability of this plucky group with how they killed this bog monster with such little preparation and with such haste just reeked of the pleasant odor of a past long ago. As this priest approached the group more, a very old and wise-toned voice cracked out of the elder's mouth, with a smile to accompany the kind face.

"That was simply astounding! Watching that battle was a remarkable memory to be obtained, if I do say so myself, heck it even reminded me of when I was your age, adventurin' and killin' beasts very much like this one." creaked the old man. The group did not even know who this man was, yet this priest already began his wise-old rambles that would probably happen more as time went on. "Yeah... I reckon it was about as big as this, maybe a bit bigger, and what it did was even worse, I'll tell ya', but I'm gettin' a bit ahead of myself for right now."

As the old man finished his rambling, he began to draw a sketch of the monster in his journal, probably to keep memories down as he probably wished to keep track of them so he can show future generations of adventurers and heroes. While he was sketching, he began to speak once more to the group of people and the large anthropomorphic lizard nearby. "So, what brings y'all out to these parts? I wanted to have a good time on an adventure that reminded me of my past, so that's why I'm out here."

A man quickly limped out of the tree-line and up to the monster, surprisingly quickly in fact. She could also tell he was armed, but since he was heading straight towards the creature and no-one else she didn't raise any sort of alarm. Despite wearing a hood, the man was obviously old thought you wouldn't know that by looking at his frame. In fact despite his age he was still fairly well built, with broad shoulders and still a head taller than Alice. His voice affirmed his wizened state though, as it cracked passed his lips.

"That was simply astounding! Watching that battle was a remarkable memory to be obtained, if I do say so myself, heck it even reminded me of when I was your age, adventurin' and killin' beasts very much like this one." Alice was taken aback, it wasn't often you saw an old adventurer. Well, at least one who isn't an elf or Dwarf. Though there was no doubt that if anyone was an old adventurer, it was this man. "Yeah... I reckon it was about as big as this, maybe a bit bigger, and what it did was even worse, I'll tell ya', but I'm gettin' a bit ahead of myself for right now." He quickly began to work on his book, most likely a drawing if his movements were anything to go by. Alice knew better than to break someone's concentration or to even peek. Last time Geradin interrupted her during a similar activity of focus he ended up with a book on his head and a lump

The man drew himself up from his book once more and addressed no-one in particular, "So, what brings y'all out to these parts? I wanted to have a good time on an adventure that reminded me of my past, so that's why I'm out here."

"We are here on queen's business, there are some threats in these parts that need putting to rest." she didn't hide her Vrettonnian accent, "I would tell you more if only for companionship, but I'm afraid I'm at a loss as to who you are, friend." she offered her hand in greeting, in a position to be shaken as is custom in most human lands.

@POOHEAD189@Banana

The old man put up his notebook and shook the Vrettonian woman's hand, a hearty laugh accompanying it. It wasn't too terribly often you find a group of people on a quest for a queen these days, especially at the age he was at where it was even difficult to stand up right after you sat for just a couple of minutes. He lowered his hood, revealing his shiny bald head and his scarred face. "Queenly business eh? I'll be damned if I can remember the last time I helped with that. Well, I ain't got much to tells ya, but I'm Ursaren, a Priest of Maestus, ex-adventurer, and a pretty skilled alchemist and healer if I do say so myself. That's a large amount of information you need to know from me, ain't much left after that." Ursaren felt that most of the other information he could tell them was of the current moment pointless.

Ursaren pondered the thought of telling them of his affliction or not, but he feared that this band of adventurers would attempt to murder him in cold blood if he did. Rather than telling them straight away, he felt like the best idea would be to reveal it in a situation where it would be beneficial, which would hopefully lean them towards being accepting of his... it wasn't really a curse or a blessing... thing? Let's go with thing, heh heh! "Would it be rude if I asked if anyone in this group was a werewolf? I'm not afraid of them, I'm just curious in the case that if I did go with you youngsters I'd wake up and find a giant wolf beside me."

@The Fated Fallen@POOHEAD189

"Do you attempt to sway me to joining whatever errand you are running?" The Lizardman asked Sett, pointing his sword at the man and tilting his reptilian head in a very alien fashion. Earlier he seemed about to spew out his long list of deeds and proclaim he could have killed the beast himself before the roguish priest waltzed up, but now he was just curious. "As long as there is something to eat, I do not mind where I now wander. I have long since lost my home in this vast wilderness."

Beren the young man and Geradin chatted among themselves before Alice strode up to them, and the three began conversing right up until an older gentlemen appeared out of the swamp. "Oi! What's yer business here?" Geradin asked, though comically he was ignored through the quick introductions. Beren patted his head to calm the seething Dwarf down, and seemed quite curious about the older man's question. Did...he just walk out of the dangerous Southland wilderness, and then ask about werewolves?

Calanon lead Brogach the Elk into the swamp, the Elk gingerly putting foot after foot into the water, before Brogach got more used to it and even bounded across the water over to the others. The Elk was very tall and large, looming over Ursaren. The Lizardman looked at the Elk hungrily. He pointed his sword at Brogach. "Friend, or food?"

"Friend." Calanon was quick to say. "Ah, very well," was the response. The Lizardman then pointed at Sett. "Friend, or food?" The Elf was suddenly taken aback. "Uh...friend. There is no living food here."

"My apologies." The Lizardman said to Sett, blinking his predatory eyes. "One cannot know unless they ask."

"None of us are werewolves, that I know of..." Beren began. He'd heard the Lizardman's question, and was just as confused by that as this older newcomer. "Sir if I may ask, what are you doing out here?"

Geradin nodded and nodded, wanting answers.

Naturally, having a sword pointed at you is not an entirely pleasant experience, leading Settionne to take a step away from the blade as he raised his eyebrows. He supposed the Lizardman was rather smarter than he'd given it credit for, but nothing he'd said warranted having a sword aimed at him, surely? He might have to confiscate that later (for everyone else's safety, of course), at least until the Lizardman needed it. Still, the intended effect of persuading the Lizardman to join their party was nonetheless achieved, though further conversation about the point was interrupted by the arrival of an... interesting man. Very old, yet very muscular, and surprisingly jovial for somebody who, inexplicably, had decided to live on the outskirts of the Southlands. He could clearly handle it, of course; a trident like that was probably very useful, and sure to be worth a lot, perhaps even able to be sold as new, if only the flecks of blood on the points were cleaned away. The question about Werewolves was rather odd, though. The sort of thing that'd make you ask questions about the asker's profession...

And then the Lizardman asked if, what was his name, the Elf's Elk was friend or food, then directing the question at Sett himself. How rude. Not that he could exactly question an obviously-superior fighter, even as it proceeded to try and intimidate him with its words. Best to give the appropriate impression of his profession, he supposed: 'No, no, not at all, good sir!' he began waffling in a rapid and scared tone. 'I suppose I'd be annoyed too if a large group of strangers entered into my home! Rest assured, none of us are at all edible, least of all myself! Trust me when I say, my flesh is quite stringy and tough, with a very unbecoming flavour, not at all befitting of the palate of a bea- eing,' he stuttered, cutting himself off with a choking cough to hide his near-slip up. No good calling the Lizardman a beast, primitive as it was, and no good continuing in that tone if it meant he lost himself in his words and got stabbed for the trouble.

'P-pardon me, frog in my throat,' Sett continued with a small, apologetic smile, patting his chest and speaking in a more reasonable manner. 'I'm hardly used to the, ah, aroma of a swamp such as this... as I was saying, your palate is surely better acclimated to the flesh of the mighty beasts you slay than of our small group. You mentioned you'd lost your home?' he rambled on, wanting to get past the topic of flesh eating before the Lizardman changed his mind about that. 'I am sorry for your loss; if it helps, I shall pray for you and for your aforementioned home, if you so desire me to of course.' A more friendly smile punctuated the end of his sentence; once again, there was no need to aggravate this Lizardman, as that could lose both its assistance and his own life in the process.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he really did want to end his conversation with the Lizardman, even if that meant being forced to talk to the strange man who had just approached them. For all Sett knew, the man could be a Werewolf himself! Would any other being really want to live in the wilderness of the Southlands beyond the confines of even the barest notion of a civilisation? Even a small village, practically hanging from its fingernails... actually, no, he didn't know the man hadn't travelled from such a place. He supposed it made sense not to assume the man was in fact a wildling, though he still ought to be cautious nonetheless. With his luck, he'd be just as skilled a warrior as the Lizardman, making a clean theft nigh-impossible. A pity, that.

"What am I doing out here? Well I'll tell ya what I'm not doing out here, dying! Ha-Ha!" To be completely honest, Ursaren didn't know why he was out there himself. He couldn't remember for the life of him how he got there. He wanted an adventure, as previously mentioned, but that's all he could tell you if he had the chance to. He spoke again with his usual tone of jolliness.

"Who wants to hear the story of Bopen the Skeleton King?" The old man enthusiastically said, as he sat on a nearby log and began to tell a story, without anyones permission. This would soon grow to be commonly known amongst the adventurers that the old man told stories all the time without any context.

"There once was a pirate,
named B O P E N.
He was ageless from the beginning,
and was ageless till the end.

He was captain of a ship
who killed and who stole,
any and all treasure
because that was his goal.

To take all for himself,
and leave none for the rest.
Your life or your Magic,
that was his quest.

He would venture out alone,
with nothing but a Black Ring.
The crew waited for his return,
and while waiting would sing.

'Hopen for the Bopen
We pirates will sing.
Surrender your treasure,
or Death we will bring.

Hopen for the Bopen
And plunder the shrine.
Your gold is now gone,
your Life is now mine'

Bopen's power was hidden,
in a Ring of all things.
Forged by the gods,
this Ring made him King.

For no one could slay him,
and soon everyone would fall.
Bopen took all he could find,
no treasure was too small.

Soon he had stolen everything,
and taken all the lives.
With none left to plunder,
his crew would soon die.

And then Bopen was alone,
with no one left to betray.
For ageless is a curse,
that locks your spirit away.

Those who fear death
will always be afraid.
Because all things must live,
and all things must fade."

Once the old man finished his story, a well-made blanket was surrounding the Vrettonian woman (@The Fated Fallen) and a snowglobe was given to the lizard (@POOHEAD189). Ursaren had no use for the snowglobe and felt like it was a good gift to offer, while that blanket suited the Vrettonian well, as it matched her eyes and would keep her warm in times of cold temperatures. The old man was sitting happily with a tankard of ale obtained from who-knows-where and pleasantly awaited the others to continue the conversation.

It appeared that noone had taken his chuckling amiss, so there was no reason for the Skayleigh not to be relaxed. With curiosity dripping from his face, the giant watched the scenery unfolding in the distance. Immediate conclusions ? Probably don't stay here too long or more and more people will try and join the group. Would Vanya even approve of this ? After all, while every new member in theory should make them stronger, in practice there could evolve so much disharmony out of it that the opposite could become true. On the other hand: No plaintiff, no judge. Unless the queen was able to teleport noises secretly from here into her throne room she'd probably never learn what happened here.

What An-Hasst started to wonder about however was if this decision would be a democratic one or not. He decided to turn around and step towards the gathering - even if it meant having to dig his feet into the swamp.



While severely bending pronounciation to make his improvised rhyme not fall completely apart, the huge Skayleigh had wandered around Ursaren. Now he squatted in front of the sitting man. "Please, forgive me my natural impatience. I'm just overwhelmed by your behaviour at the moment. First asking about werewolves, then... this. Why ?"

@POOHEAD189@The Fated Fallen@BCTheEntity@Banana

Alice realised she had been silent for the last few moments, and reasoned it was probably because there was so much to take in. The absurdity of almost all that was happening made it hard to filter through and find what she needed to know. Even the Dwarves had to stop to take a moment to breathe!

She sighed heavily, centred herself and looked around with fresher feeling eyes. She opened her ears just in time to hear a somewhat strange and inspired series of rhymes from An-Hasst addressed to the old man. Words she couldn't help but agree with slightly in light of his overbearing nature.

"Please, forgive me my natural impatience. I'm just overwhelmed by your behaviour at the moment. First asking about werewolves, then... this. Why?"

Alice found her voice, following An-Hasst's first hit in the fight to regain some sort of sensibility. "Indeed, I gather you are wanting to join in our task? This hardly seems like the most orthodox way to do so." Ragnarok give strength. She raised her hand to her almost amounting headache as she uttered her under her breath. Madness all around

"I understand that this is a bit of a... crazy situation, but I must tell you why I decided to tell you that story, as it may explain a lot." Ursaren spoke up as he sat on the log with an expression of utter knowledge washed over his face. He had no explanation at the time he told that story, but as he told it, he actually figured something out that he was unaware of. His similarity to the pirate king. It was actually strikingly similar, which completely caught Ursaren off guard, but he was glad he figured it out when he did, because he really wanted to join up with this group of adventurers.

"I am much like the pirate king Bopen. Sure, I may not be ageless, a pirate, or have a ring that made me king, but I don't have a crew to come back home to. My old adventuring pals are probably long-since dead from when I was last with them, and I have outlived those that were closest to me, even my dear old friend Jameson who died 2 years ago due to a curious illness. I tried to keep him alive for as long as I could, but eventually he...-" Ursaren actually had to wipe his eyes because he was tearing up. "... he passed on. Now old Ursaren is all alone with nobody to go back to his home to. Enough about that, though. I don't wish to dwell on my bad times." Ursaren wiped his eyes again, then continued speaking once more.

"I understand the werewolf question was a bit weird, but my old group about 40 years ago had a werewolf in it, and we kicked him out before he could do any more harm to the man who taught me how to wield this trident. If anything, I only have one request of you brave adventurers. Let me travel with you and help me feel what it is like to explore and brave the wilds once more, even if it's just for a little while." The old man was standing at this point, his trident on his back, his shield in his hand, and the sense of wisdom flowing in the air.

This newcomer was quite the oddball, spilling personal information for all to hear, and yet he had a flair for the dramatic. Beren pursed his lips, and shrugged. "It doesn't do well to leave someone here alone in the Wilderness. We'll see if the Elves would have you, Ursaren." he said. Calanon nodded in agreement.

As they spoke, the Lizardman tilted his head and gazed at Sett as the man spoke. "I am honored by your words, friend human." The beast was suddenly given a snowglobe of all things, and blinked in confusion. After a moment, the Lizardman bit the snowglow and attempted to eat it as if it were an egg he had stolen to devour. There were some dents in the glass, but it was made of thick and stern material and the Lizard did not seem to wish to continue his gnawing.

"Let's get on with all of this, then." Geradin said, hoisting his hammer. "We've a long swamp to trudge." With that, he waded further into the bog. They all set off, even the Lizardman who insisted that he was curious on what was bringing such a large group this far south. "The name's Beren." the young man said as he walked beside Geradin and the Lizardman.

The scaled newcomer nodded, and patted his chest. "I am Argon. Hello, new friend Beren."

"So d'ya always smell like Swamp water or is it just the stuff beneath me hips?" Geradin asked. Argon flicked his tongue out. "Sssss-s-s-s-s-s I ssssuppose it is both."

So far the group had traveled four miles in a rough formation, with Calanon leaping from tree to tree and Brogach carefully padding through the water, his antlered head alert for any signs of danger through the forested marsh.

"Well... if you want to be remembered about how it is to... explore the wilderness et cetera... then the first step is to stop this senseless singing. It's not part of any usual adventure, so you'd contaminate your own memories by continuing doing it. Alright ?" An-Hasst grinned behind both ears, revealing his large and quite sharp teeth towards Ursaren and being perfectly aware of his bluntness.

The Skayleigh didn't like the swamp. His feet dug into it until the murky water was up to his waist - which was situated a considerable lot higher than those of the others. The distance itself did hardly impress him, but the swamp rapidly developed into a major annoyance. An-Hasst's mood ultimately hit the point when he yelled at Calanon, asking if he'd allow him to sit on Brogach's back again. Not that the Skayleigh expected 'yes' to be a probable answer. Others likely would become eager to raise themselves to that level of comfort as well.

@POOHEAD189@The Fated Fallen@BCTheEntity@Banana

They trudged through the mud and the mire for what seemed like hours, until finally they found an end of the disgusting and smelly bog. It was the first bit of ground they had found that their feet didn't sink into once stepped upon. "Good, solid ground." Geradin muttered, stomping on the patched dirt for good measure. To the side, Beren the warrior Monk practically leaped out of the swamp, hitting the dirt and shaking his feet and legs like a dog would. He hadn't seemed to dislike the experience though, the Caramel skinned young fighter was pretty much the only one other than the towering, armor clad Lizardman to not hold his nose for any length of time.

Geradin patted his robes, grumbling. Calanon stood before the group, gazing into the heavily wooded forest before them with his keen Elven eyes. Beside him, Brogach the Red Elk stood, ears erect. The group continued to collect themselves and dry off, before Calanon suddenly drew his bow in a lightning swift motion and aimed at the trees before any of them could blink.

"Hiyovin'la!" A voice called out, drifting from the Woods as if the very trees had spoken to them. The ranger blinked, and lowered his bow slightly. He called back in Elvish, speaking for a few moments in a language none could decipher, gesturing to his group as he did so. Another voice, a different one but no less whimsical, spoke from another direction within the forest, and soon Elves clad in brown leather and green tunics, over light mail revealed themselves, striding out of the treeline armed with spears, swords, and bows drawn.

The Lizardman, now known as Argon, hissed warningly. Beren the monk had put up his guard as soon as Calanon had begun conversing, but he dropped it now and did his best to soothe the warrior beastman beside him. "They're the one's we're supposed to meet." he told Argon. The Lizardman blinked, and tilted his head in a very alien manner. "Oh. I shall stay my blade for now. Thank you, friend Beren."

At the fore, a blonde Elven woman clad in functional but light armor strode before them. Hands on her hips, she measured the travelers with a look of appraisal. Pointed ears poked out of her golden mane of hair. "I see you were sent by Vanya. I trust the bog was not too difficult for you." Her voice would have been honeyed and pleasant if it had not come from someone who was so obviously used to commanding others in combat situations, making it more hoarse and curt. "I am Verya. If you're done wiping yourselves off, we will take you to our waypoint and provide food and clean water. You'll need it. Troubling news has reached us."
@Fetzen@Banana@The Fated Fallen@BCTheEntity

It was, Settionne supposed, pleasing to know that the Lizardman - called Argon, he learned at some point in the next few hours of hiking - did not seem to hold any particular grudge against him. Even so, he wondered at the creature's ability to survive in this frankly unpalatable climate, for how foul the stench became at times. Indeed, he was inclined to wonder how such a disgusting "land" formed to begin with. Some form of evil power, he imagined. Really, that was the only explanation that made sense, considering that there really were dark powers at work in the Southlands.

Even so, he managed to take his mind off it by keeping up small talk with the others in the party, and for whatever lurching horrors the swamp could inflict upon them and theirs, it could not last forever. The group finally reached dry land once more, and for his efforts, Sett was rewarded with bog-soaked leggings. And what a shame, for that was good cloth too... though he was barely given but a few minutes to resolve the matter, for not minutes later, the party was confronted, albeit briefly, by a band of Wood Elves, or who he assumed were Wood Elves, for it of course followed that other sorts of Elf would live elsewhere than the woods. And their leader, now that was an attractively-clad woman. Her armour was very well fitted, and obviously very well made, and he was quite sure whatever weapon she wielded was of similar high quality... and he supposed the woman herself was attractive too, albeit in the same way as the Elven Princess Vanya - a beauty to be observed, not handled, and woe betide anybody who tried it. And similarly for anybody who tried to steal anything: aside from the sheer number of potential watchers, the woman herself was surely exceptionally eagle-eyed. Sett worried he'd lose the opportunity to nab anything at all for himself, with how utterly impossible such a thing had been as of recent.

But alas, enough of that sort of thinking. T'was time to explain to and mollycoddle the authority around these parts. 'I will report one minor setback,' he began to say jovially, 'taking the form of some swamp monstrosity, but rest assured our friend here handled the matter most handily.' He gestured to Argon before continuing to talk: 'Nevertheless, we are alive and unharmed, though it seems in a less well-kept state than you and yours, miss- am I missing a title?- Verya, and might I say what a truly brilliant sight you are, even in these harsh conditions?' He supposed his mild flirt may well be disregarded by the Elven commander in much the same way that Vanya had disregarded him last night, but it was hardly a loss anyway. Let them think he was a hopeless flirt; so much the better when his opportunity to act finally arose.

@POOHEAD189@Fetzen@Banana@The Fated Fallen

Hours passed with the muddy trekking through the swampy bog, accompanied by the oddly settling smell of murk, until the group trudged onto solid ground. The old man of the group released a heavy sigh of relief as he shook off his boots, freeing them from a majority of the clumpy mud and grass, and he continued with the small squad of adventurers through the marshlands. Ursaren took everything into consideration while he was wandering with this group, from the damp fog to the ravens overhead. Ursaren loved this sense of adventure that he was so long without, and was very jolly to him being able to experience it again. Not before long though, the group would be confronted by a band of wood elves.

"Hello!" the priest exclaimed when he met the squad of elves. He always admired the elven races for their dedication and wisdom when it came to the physical plane and the magical plane, and these elves were no different. Verya even looked like a distant relative of one of Ursaren's old pals, but she was long since dead so she couldn't have possibly been related to her. The elder was going to continue talking but then he noticed that the rather shady fellow - Settionne - was attempting to flirt with the head of the elves. Blasphemous was the first word that came to Ursaren's mind, because if this was the case that she was related to the old companion of Ursaren, this hooligan should not court this fine woman. If the time came where she was becoming annoyed at Settionne's actions, Ursaren would intervene. Verya then spoke up about there being troubling news, which, yet again, excited the priest. "What sort of troubling news is it my comrade?" Comrade was an amazing word, and Ursaren loved it.

@BCTheEntity@POOHEAD189@Fetzen@The Fated Fallen

Although Alice felt rankled at the Elf's comment any negative feeling towards Verya turned to sympathy as she was set upon by the same sorry excuse for flirting that Settionne had fruitlessly tried on her half-sister. Alice made a mental note to point him towards a few good novels, if only so she wouldn't have to endure this humiliation again should their travelling be for any amount of time and she be associated with him (let alone if he tried it on her.)

It was a relief when Ursaren took the helm of the conversation, who had remained contemplative up until this point. She was glad to see hermitry hadn't softened his tongue all too much. "What sort of troubling news is it my comrade?" he spoke strongly, directing her attention. Almost too strongly for a man his age. Alice dismissed it, he was clearly of the stern stock she hoped they were all a part of. He had probably eaten his greens as a youngster.

"Indeed, though I fear any more trouble in these parts might make the countryside look like my old dormitory!" She couldn't help but smile at the memory, before realising the statement was probably wholly unsuited to the company she kept and completely irrelevant to the circumstances at hand. "Clearly trouble enough to hold travellers at weapon-point along the roads, hmm comrade?" she spoke in an almost accusatory tone, and immediately regretted it. Maybe she went hostile because she wasn't fond of elves, but there was no way she could expect to cow an apology out of this Verya. In fact, Alice bet she looked the prime example of a typical arrogant human to the commander and a touchy noble to the rest of the party. Well botched, she thought to herself, and made an effort to avoid the angry elven soldier's eyes as she tried to make her presence as small as possible while she changed her damp socks

Vanya, Verya,... had the world silently started to resort to a regular expression consisting of a 'V' at the beginning, an 'ya' at the end and two random alphanumeric symbols in the middle in order to find names for incarnate disappointment ? An-Hasst's will to clean up the aftermath of this swamp excursion had been borderline before, but now he refused to do it at all. It didn't bother him much - the stuff would dry and the solid remains detach by themselves, it would just be a matter of time and if there'd be another source of dirt in their way he'd be the only one not having wasted time.

The Skayleigh closed his eyelids - so he could roll his eyeballs behind them without anyong noticing. Settionne, again, deployed his bewildering array of softened up, well chosen words in order to make a first impression. The question was if it would work this time. According to An-Hasst's internal opinion it would not. Verya, judging by the woman's tone, appeared to be quite used to the military and thereby would likely be more interested in hard facts than anything else.

However the giant didn't get very far with his attempt to finally hatch out some sort of retaliation plan. He was considering 'accidentally' stepping onto the man's foot when Alice, without knowing, saved it from this rather crushing experience by doing something An-Hasst instantaneously considered to be even more... intriguing. "I'd like to apologize for these words." he spoke up, speculating that him being a Skayleigh could net him some sort of bonus because it partially made him a wood elf himself. Of course it could be that the opposite thing would happen, but since when did An-Hasst have talent for excellent manners ?

Slowly he stepped closer towards Alice, approaching her from the right and from behind. "Why are you referring to your 'old dormitory' ? Was it a rotten collection of beddings stenched with a plethora of body fluids and an already self-compressing layer of dead flies on the window ledges ? Or did your memory just suffer a momentary glitch that made you forget about this swamp we just came from before making this comparison ?" His voice was enhanced with enough sarcasm to indicate that he wasn't entirely serious about what he was saying.

Verya looked at Settionne incredulously, before letting out a pleased chuckle at his flattering. "I do not often hear such words. Most of the time, men think me some fey demon. Thank you." she told him. Obviously she thought the attempt quaint, but it was amusing to one who spent most of their time fighting for their lives in these wild Southlands.

She cleared her throat once she heard the exchange Alice and Ursaren gave. "Follow me." was all the reply she provided, and the Elves within the trees left only the faintest of whispers as they dispersed. A few of them, tall with well formed faces and brown of hair, flanked the group as they made their way into the wood.

Beren let his hand brush one of the trees, for the bark was smooth and soft, yet sturdy to the touch. Calanon seemed very serene and at home here. Geradin grumbled at all of the Elven trickery, but kept walking with them. There was an ethereal light that permeated the forest, as if the very sunlight had been captured and tamed to hang about and keep the trees company with its warmth. Verya strode at the fore, her strung bow now at her back.

"The problem I referred to earlier was something that we didn't quite foresee until a mere day ago, but there seems to be a Dragon rampaging across these lands. A great Green Dragon that has ransacked a few of the smaller settlements between here and the mountains. We do not yet know why, but its activities has driven many a monster out of their caverns and into the lowlands." she explained. "Oh, and there seems to be someone who may know of the why for this Dragon's rage, though it's a longshot. We've captured another human, one whom we do not entirely trust."

As they moved, the mellow light only allowing just enough illumination to see a dozen paces ahead, gave way to true sunlight. Just past a huge Oak tree, as if it was the sentinel made to guard the doorway of this particular wood, was a woman Knight. Her hands were bound and her lush blonde hair was disheveled. Around her were other Wood Elves, bows strung and drawn, aiming at her. They had been aiming at her for quite some time.
@Fetzen@The Fated Fallen@Banana@BCTheEntity@Darkraven

I have failed them

I have failed them all,

the Knights of the Guardian Order,

the Grandmaster, commanders, soldiers and all.

I have failed my daughter,

and my city.

And so I shall die alone in the wilderness,

Just as I have woken up alone in the wilderness.

The same words kept swirling in Jezebeth's mind as she knelt where she was, ignoring a shard of stone cutting into her knee. Six elves formed a crescent behind her, their bows drawn and arrows pointed at her, but they were the least of her worries. No, they were nearly none-existent to her, just strangers who will deal her, her fate as a matter of course - Fate that she felt was deserved.

Tears continued to escape Jezebeth's eyes despite her best attempts at staying dignified; her walls were crumbling. They had been streaking her cheeks for the past hour. No amount of mourning could relieve the heavy burden in her heart. She couldn't even lift her hands to wipe away the pain, for they were bound tightly, and any sudden move could mean the end of her existence. For all her time in this position, she would intermittently contemplate ending her life by startling the guards, but so far she hadn't gone through with it.

No, dignity there was none left, and Jezebeth thought it fitting for herself. She had, after all, unwittingly made fatherless or motherless a hundred families, brought a delayed age of grieving upon those affiliated with her Guardian Order of Knights.

Yes, she would rather be rid of any signs that she was once a member of the Guardian Order. The elves had done her a favour by stripping her of almost everything. Her armour, weapons and gear lay in a clutter on the grassland nearby, as if garbage to be disposed. Her sallet helmet looked like it might contain a skull. Her breastplate, bearing the insignia of the Guardian Order, a tower, lay abandoned. her sword, Kasdeya's Deathstroke, continued to shimmer blue, as if a child crying out for her mother. Her horse whinnied in the distance, having been tied to a tree, and it couldn't free itself.

Jezebeth was only allowed her Gambeson, padded pants, boots... And her necklace.

She had fought like a cornered wild animal an hour back when they tried to take the necklace from her. Eight guards had been stripping away her equipment, and she alone fought them off for the sake of her red-gem jewelry when one of them moved to wrap his hand around it. It was all she had when she'd woken up with nothing to her name, not even memories, and she had thus grown attached to it.

By the end, she had been beaten up quite badly such that her arms and legs and body had been bruised, her face in particular had a nasty cut across a cheek and blood had been dripping from her nose and mouth - But at least their captain had ordered them off, wanting her alive. Her knuckles were still battered and bleeding from that altercation, her hands shaking. And they'd left her Gambeson unbuttoned all the way, not bothering with her modesty, perhaps as revenge for having fought them so well.

Then they came.

It was as if the Elves had decided to add insult to injury by presenting members of her own race to her. She knew her own reputation - half of Andred would talk about her on a daily basis, and her name, deeds and tales of her unmatched beauty had traveled to the neighbouring human kingdoms. Now, she was but a prisoner, if even that, surely a sight for sore eyes the way her hair was disheveled with her bun having fallen apart, her clothing in disarray and her skin marred by injury and dirt. She reeked from the lack of maintenance.

Humans, accompanied by an Elf, Skayleigh and a Dwarf. The moment she saw them, the tears became harder to fight back, for they reminded her somehow of her own Knights and soldiers. It was all she could do to look away, all forlorn, tears streaking down her cheeks faster, salting the wound. Instead, she gazed at the ground, wondering where under the grass would she be buried. Already, her tears were beginning to water the vegetation.