"Just Ursaren is alright. I'm not one for big names." responded Ursaren to Jezebeths question about what she should call him. He felt a sense of relief wash over him as the knight accepted his offer. To think that she was once confined within the dark feelings within her, only to then be brought out by this old soul was incredible, and a sight that would be cherished for the remainder of Ursaren's short life... or maybe long life. The priest didn't know how long he had left at this point, and if Jezebeth was his mark on the world, than by Maestus he was gonna leave her on a good note!

Ursaren stepped back for a second and skimmed over Jezebeth's current condition, and this was when he noticed that she had a slowly spreading spot of crimson forming around her left knee. The old man raised his eyebrow at it and spoke again. "Jezebeth, your leg is bleeding... and pretty badly at that. Give me a slight second here..." The old man stabbed his trident into the ground and got down onto his knees, raising a hand to Jezebeth's injured leg, and a warm blue glow enveloped where the wound was. To Jezebeth, this was a bit of a stinging feeling, but it would soon be followed by the relief of a mended wound. Ursaren knew his fair share of healing spells and alchemy, so this wasn't a hefty struggle to uphold for him.

Once all had been said and done, he looked to Calanon with a nod and exclaimed to the group. "Who wants to go kill some dragons?" The priest wasn't one for lollygagging, and if he was to help get Jezebeth back on the road to a happier life, he saw no better way than to try and fight the dragon in order to bring out the true knight she once was. Either that or Ursaren could convince the party that his curse was something he could control with an iron fist.

"Just Ursaren is alright. I'm not one for big names," the old man had introduced himself as such. Humble, Jezebeth found, and mysterious. It'd drawn her to him, as she wanted to know more about this kind soul - but that would be a matter for another time.

"Thank you, Ursaren," Jezebeth said, dipping her head in a slight bow. "I am in your debt."

That was when Ursaren stepped back and surveyed her body. For a moment, the knight thought he was taking in her beauty, just like how so many men would whether she was in or out of her armour, but for another trial, it seemed that this Ursaren had proved himself a virtuous man. While Jezebeth certainly didn't mind being admired and held to be the object of everyone's desire, now was not the time for it. Certainly not now - she just wasn't in the mood, and she wasn't sure if she would ever be. For now, she needed a break from such flirtations, and Ursaren had provided it.

"Jezebeth, your leg is bleeding... and pretty badly at that. Give me a slight second here..." he finally said, proving his intentions. He would then bend down and mend her to work his magic. Jezebeth had suspected him to be a man of some genteel occupation, and as it turned out, her instincts weren't blunted like her fighting spirit. After a mere sting that couldn't even begin to compare to what she'd been through, her knee had ceased to hurt.

"I am twice in your debt," Jezebeth thanked him again, her eyes mere glass for a moment as she remained unsmiling. The ghosts of her past, and not just of her fallen army, had refused to go away. No, everything that had happened in the past, before her entrance into the eternal chaos of the southlands, was all coming back to her. "I guess I will go gather my things now..." she murmured, quite unlike herself, not that Ursaren and his group had ever seen Jezebeth at the zenith of her achievements.

Her legs regaining strength again as blood returned to them, Jezebeth stumbles over to where her arms and armour had been trashed on the ground. A familiar elf came within sight, distinctly marked by what looked like four lines of painful claw marks on one side of his face. The elf was still nursing those wounds she had inflicted when he tried to pluck her favourite red-jeweled necklace away. It'd been washed and herb paste had been rubbed over them, but they were still very much visible, and might well remain that way for the rest of his life.

He came up to her, blocking her way. Jezebeth jerked, expecting another blow, but when nothing came, she stood still.

"You'd better not be alone the next time I see you, human swine!" the elf had leaned in and said coldly to her very face. All Jezebeth could do was to meet his glare with her own, though she was losing even in such a bloodless confrontation. Without waiting for her to speak or even react, the elf pushed her aside, the weakened knight barely able to maintain her balance, and left. Jezebeth stared after him, afraid and still shivering from the numerous tender wounds on her body, most particular of all the rope burns on her wrists, which she shielded as if any more aggravation would tear her hands off.

Upon reaching her things on the ground, she collapsed beside them, and started putting on the pieces of her armour. With the hostility she had thus far faced in the elf camp, it was imperative that she prepare for any retributions for her release. But without her squire, she was having some difficulty re-armouring. She could normally do it on her own, being a Guardian Knight, special in Andred in that they do not always operate in armies and were required to be self-sufficient warriors, but having been soundly beaten and ill-treated did not do well in encouraging it.

@POOHEAD189@Fetzen@BCTheEntity@Banana@The Fated Fallen

Yes, of course they were upset with him. He wasn't blind, so much as the Elves probably thought he was. That was just how it had to be, for otherwise the notion of "caring about others" would appear something foreign to him, and what sort of priest doesn't care overmuch about the well-being of others? Why, the sort who steals from others, naturally. Still, at this point, the Elves visible in the trees seemed downright combative about him, never mind the ones he couldn't, so he kept his mouth shut for the time being.

And that being said, he hadn't even introduced himself to what it sounded like was the newest, most beautiful member of their party. And he very much wanted to, naturally. So, he took the chance, and strolled over to the lady as, having been further accosted by yet another elf, she struggled to place her armour on. Perhaps this would be a good opportunity...

'Do you need some help, madame?' he offered congenially, his face offering up a friendly smile, and then kneeling next to her without being asked. He was not at all familiar with armour and its functionality, other than the leather jack he wore, but he supposed latching everything together wouldn't be too tough. It was a matter of tying string, was it not? He could do that, and began to if she'd allow him. Apparently, she could not... or would usually be able, from her efforts in the first place.

And that brought him back to another point. 'I don't suppose you've been treated particularly fairly, eh?' he asked, continuing his general theme of "these Elves have been very nasty for no good reason", albeit quietly so they didn't hear him. Elf ears, and all that. 'I can only imagine how you're feeling right now, battered as badly as you've been... I shall be sure to pray for your swift recovery, m'lady, that you might return to your former glory just as swiftly. But, ah, I don't believe I caught your name earlier?'

@POOHEAD189@Darkraven@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@Banana

What the... An-Hasst started to stumble backwards as if the world in front of him had suddenly turned into a menace he intended to flee from by running backwards into the other half of the world which would have looked just the same if he had actually turned his head around. However he didn't - and that was the reason why one of the wood elves had to make an evasive maneuver in order not to get crushed by the giant Skayleigh approaching him.

He could clearly see the the elves being being appalled by Settionne's actions. The sight left him hoping that this was really just another part of reality he now could finally see and not some hallucination. It would've been just so good to have some kindred spirits around even if the reason was probably a different one. So far, the Skayleigh felt pretty isolated with his opinion about the priest.

An-Hasst's thoughts were interrupted by the female knight or whatever she really was coming into his sight. While even Skayleigh people had a grasp of the concept of attractiveness and what actions nature had designed it to invoke subsequently, he currently was nowhere near doing it. She was Andred! Though even this somewhat 'augmented' reality he currently found himself him didn't clearly point out any danger possibly associated with Jezebeth, her appearance reached up to mysterious heights. Jezebeth was one to be confronted later by him, that was for sure.

The Skayleigh watched as Sett did what the man so far had appeared to him to be best at: Lending a helping hand with a high probability of ulterior motives accompanying him. C'mon! Just fail at what you're doing! Just do it one time and get this armor strapped up completely wrong! He turned towards Argon, giving the lizardman a subtle hint to follow him. "Is it just my impression or is this party facing the serious threat of being glued together and immobilized by... flrtations." The Skayleigh's voice was low because he intended Argon to be the only one being able to listen. "Aside from that dragons which happen to be our latest romance's personal nemesis aren't on our priority list. Our job is to deal with the dark elves and the middle of this continent or did I get things wrong ? Then, maybe, we can go hunt this beast." He certainly wasn't happy about Ursaren's proposal.

@POOHEAD189@Darkraven@BCTheEntity@The Fated Fallen@Banana

Alice couldn't help but laugh at Beren's question, "In the high courts of Vrettonnia, through most of my childhood. I'm afraid they aren't the type to accept the company of Dwarves, and for a lot of them it's more the pity." She remembered how up-tight half of her homeland were, but honestly the two peoples had a lot more in common than one might think. Both strong preservers of cultural history and lore, not to mention fine appreciation for good craftsmanship.

"Stick with this one, lad!" Geradin said, suddenly appearing between them and poking Alice in the side as he winked. "She's got the know-how. I swear I've heard her talk her way out of an Ogre's cooking pot before. Quite a sight too, mainly for the Ogre. I called down me God's wrath before it could take the astonishment off its ugly face. Hehehe." She laughed maybe a bit too loudly for the company they were keeping. "I remember that very differently," she recalled being more than a little panicked and definitely lucky at the end of it. Another page in the epic tale of Geredin and Alice, if they'd hired a bard they could be rich by now. "Honestly you'd be surprised how well lecturing Ogres how to cook their meals by their meals actually works, considering it's among the oldest tricks in the book!" she left the two Dwarves laughing and beggining to pour each-other drinks, much to the dissaproval and tittering of the Elves around. But, in Dwarfen tradition, they completely ignored the wayward looks and showed a wonderful display of quick comeradery that she always liked the people for. She unfortunately had other business, as she saw two of the group head off in a separate direction, like they were discussing something not for all ears...

Alice wondered after An-Hasst and Argon, in a way one would try and push their way into a conversation. "I wouldn't worry about Settionne." she grabbed their attention. "He seems the type that'll pour his heart and soul out for a bat of the eyelids. I'm more concerned with you two, I'm glad to be in the company of the more practical."

Standing amongst these two made her feel incredibly small and scrawny, which she was hardly a titan to begin with, the contrast in clothing too would be as obvious to any observers as it was likely funny. "I agree, this dragon hardly seems our original task, but I should expect such things to be linked. It would be better for us to fight it if we can, in an arena of our choosing, than as a surprise later on." Unlike demons, Alice knew a fair amount of binding beasts and the like to ones will. Mainly because it was incredibly simple, and most wizards have some sort of cat with them or the like. A dragon was obviously a dozen times more complicated, but no-where near beyond the realm of possibility. At least, not far enough away to help me sleep at night, and if you knew the same you'd probably take to living underground "Besides, surely it is better to do as much good on the way, no?"

She gave a small laugh, "I think we should all be more concerned focusing on how we can actually beat one of these things, unless you have an array of ballistae in that exotic coat of yours?" she turned to the Lizard "I don't suppose you've hunted such beasts before? I do hope you are up to the challenge." She was doubtful, but hoping he would say "Oh yeah, me and me mates just do it all the time. I'll run to my tribe and bring a couple of the boys, and a giant magical net!" Things could never be that easy...

@POOHEAD189@Darkraven@BCTheEntity@Fetzen@Banana

As Lady Jezebeth was readjusting the breastplate, or more accurately, putting it back together again, the knight was struck with another episode of pain. They were nothing serious, just backaches and her bruises and flesh wounds aggravated, but inconvenient. That was when another member of the group appeared.

"Do you need some help, madame?" came a man's voice. Jezebeth turned to regard him, at first aware that she could be harassed again for she had dropped her guard, but relaxed when it was apparent that she wouldn't be harmed. Jezebeth did not respond immediately, for she sensed that he had more to say - that his first question was all but rhetorical not just by his mannerism but by her own admitted need for assistance.

"I don't suppose you've been treated particularly fairly, eh?" he went on as he came up to her, and knelt down, "I can only imagine how you're feeling right now, battered as badly as you've been... I shall be sure to pray for your swift recovery, m'lady, that you might return to your former glory just as swiftly. But, ah, I don't believe I caught your name earlier?"

Jezebeth studied the man. He had been rather short, shorter than she was in fact, a sign of low birth because of the poor welfare afforded to people of that class. But it didn't matter to Jezebeth - as far as she knew, she had woken up in the clearing of a forest with literally nothing but a name that held no sentiments and her necklace, lower than low for even women of the low class knew a family, a home, a trade. It was only when old farmer George took her in that she had become someone. The Guardian Order itself had no respect for societal classes. They took in anyone who showed promise, mixing the high-born and low alike in the mission to rid the world of demon scum - and Jezebeth believed every word her elders preached.

He appeared to be the ratty type, though somewhat handsome - perhaps showing that he had pulled himself from the bottom by the bootstraps and done his fortune some good. But only somewhat handsome, for he couldn't seem to meet her gaze, his eyes always drifting left, right, or down to her body on occasion.

But what was most important was that he had offered help, kinship in misery. Appearances were one thing - Jezebeth appreciates strength of character just as much, such that she believed that it could shine so brightly that it could somehow enhance a person's outward beauty.

"Your prayers will be much appreciated. I am the Lady Jezebeth, Daughter of None, Knight and Commander-Aspirant of the Guardian Order, Bane of Demons, Poverty & Famine, Ruby of the Knighthoods of Andred," Jezebeth replied, her titles were beginning to ring hollow, now that it had been repeated under her dreadful fortunes and circumstances that she was beginning to feel ashamed of them. Her face showed it, as her own gaze dipped away from this gentleman who'd offered her help. This was not to mention the fact that she couldn't muster up a half-hearted smile, in light of what she had suffered.

"I apologise," Jezebeth said, keeping the reasons for her apology to herself. She had a feeling that it was all too obvious, the way she felt like breaking into tears again when her various titles had reminded her of everything. But she would not make that mistake again, showing such pathetic weakness like a little girl where the Order had already been gravely wounded by its great loss in the Southlands. She took a deep breath to steel herself. "How the Elves had treated me so bothered me little. Perhaps it is my fate and punishment for having failed my Order, for some forgotten, grievous sin I had committed. The Gods and Goddesses have never answered my prayers, not in my entire life." Her eyes had been distant as she said this, as if she could physically see herself in the past once more, but they soon returned to the man before her.

"I would be glad for your help." Jezebeth finally said, but before she started giving him instructions, she went on, for it would be rude not to: "And by what name and title should I call you, priest?"

Yes, he was indeed a priest - His efforts to speak on her behalf hadn't gone unnoticed, and his demeanor and words supported that theory. Character could shine better than apparent looks, indeed, and Jezebeth thought she might like this young man just as the other members of the group - most of them, anyway - had charmed her so with their charity when they were most needed, even when she had appeared to them quite clearly to be of a higher station, and thus less worthy of empathy because of their differences. The Southlands had been a harsh and unforgiving place, and to find such goodness in a place so dark and tainted... Words escaped Jezebeth.

The knight promised herself to meet every single member of this questing group which had so kindly taken her in, including the Skayleigh that had been giving her the death-stare all the time. Yes, she hadn't failed to notice the half-giant either, just that her surroundings had been pushed to the back of her mind until now.

The Guardian Order was unique in that it cared not for the petty politics and squabbles of the world, declaring only demons and other aberrant creatures to be their enemies. Jezebeth herself had seeked, in all her time in the order, to be a paragon of its virtues, agreeing fanatically with its teachings - her failures were her own and of a personal nature, but never in the ideal teachings of the order.

As such, the Guardian Order had been known to operate across borders, with many different kingdoms, people and races, though with the Skayleigh that trust had been strained because of the order's parent kingdom's actions. Unfortunately, they could still be faulted, for there were dark times in the Guardian Order's history that had tainted their name. While they weren't with the invading forces of Andred when it took over the Kaelic Isle, an incompetent and delusional Grandmaster centuries ago had participated in a massacre alongside regular Andred forces in a bid to expose some demon cults, only to find none, and not even a single demon. There had been Skayleigh Guardian knights before, but no longer since that incident.

Perhaps it is an opportunity to make amends betweeh the Andreds, Guardian Order and the Skayleigh, however small and insignificant it would be in the grand scheme of things?

@POOHEAD189@Fetzen@BCTheEntity@Banana@The Fated Fallen

'The name is Settionne, dear Lady, of no particular title save the shorthand "Sett". But dare I say, 'tis a shame for the gods to disregard a woman of such fine moral standing as yourself,' Sett declared as he began to lace up her armour as needed. 'I admit, I am only marginally aware of the Guardian Order, for I have not often found time to discuss current matters over the books and sermons of old, you know how it is with us priests, but a bane of Demons, Poverty and Famine? I can hardly say I've heard a more ringing endorsement in my life! And going by your own obvious battles against their sort, well, I'd assume you are nothing less than noble in thought and deed.'

Incidentally, the need to reattach the Lady Jezebeth's armour to her person gave him a perfect opportunity to scan through her other equipment for anything valuable. Other than the armour itself and the amulet round her neck- he dare not attempt to remove this, knowing how she'd reacted to the Elves when they'd tried their hand at its removal- she possessed two waterskins, a pipe and satchel smelling strongly of herbs, and a backpack that seemed full to the brim with a great many valuable goods. Were he to pilfer more than a handful of its contents, she'd likely notice within moments putting it back on, and wouldn't that just be a bad way to have his allegiance outed?

'But needless to say,' he continued, seeing an opportunity to get on her good side quickly, 'the loss of your Order's members is a grave and tragic blow to the forces of good in this world, and I am very sorry for the losses you have suffered. Trust, however, that such was not your fault in any way.' And in fairness, the sheer bad luck- or incompetence, but he chose to believe the team's newest ally was not quite so useless as that- needed for an entire Order of trained knights to be slain almost to a man ensured that one extra person would hardly make a difference to the outcome, perhaps even implied divine wrath of some sort... hmm. Now that train of thought did raise some good questions. For later, obviously.

'Sometimes, of course, we are tested for our faith, in hard and distressing manners,' he droned on, taking a page from one of the more common sermons Dineki's faithful directed toward the poor people of Vrettonia, 'but failure of faith is only confirmed when one first fails to do their best work in rising above such times. Naturally, I can only imagine that you and yours did their utmost to save themselves and their companions, and if that is the case, then you need not feel shame, for they will have earned their rightful and just places in the life after this one, as shall you if you but maintain your own faith.' If, indeed, such an afterlife existed, because so far as he was aware, no god had ever confirmed or denied that such places existed. And say no such place existed, or that many afterlives existed; what, then, happened to the souls of mortals when they passed, particularly if they divided their faith between multiple deities as the Vrettonian race of Man oft did? These were the sorts of practical questions that Fineki encouraged, or at least the particular sect of Fineki's faith that Settionne the Inconsiderate hailed from. Perhaps your afterlife was chosen by random chance, or even Fineki himself? Or perhaps he ought to pay attention to whatever response Jezebeth was about to give, because he'd be damned if he missed a word that came from her luscious form when she was talking to him.

@POOHEAD189@Darkraven@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@Banana

Beren's arms crossed, he gave Geradin a grin at Alice's mention. "Here that? You can't come." he joked. The Dwarf grumbled at that, waving a dismissive hand and going 'bah'. "I've been tae Vrettonia! Nothing but sissy Knights and even sissier magic users. Only one person ever come out of there with a good head on her shoulders, and that's Alice by me beard!" he exclaimed, then blinked. "Speakin' of which, you should grow a beard lad."

Beren the human scratched his chin, with only the barest hint of a 5'Oclock shadow. "My father's side of the family can't grow beards very well. It's the savage blood." he replied, referring to the Southland tribes that lived among the dangerous jungles just as naturally as Northmen lived among civilized towns and cities. Indeed, the caramel skinned young man had shown he was a bit more used to this forest than most, save the Elves perhaps.

Argon stalked forward, elongating his rather considerable reptilian neck to view the interaction between Jezebeth and the men of the party. "Yesssss, my people do not act in such a fashion. We find suitable mates through smell." he explained, not caring or simply being ignorant to how awkward he could make a situation. "It is also a good way to sense who is and is not healthy, such as diseases among the females."

His tongue flicked in and out, and he shook his head. "This...female smells strange, if she is indeed female. I cannot tell with you humans, or Elves, or Elf Giants. But as for the Old one? No, I have never hunted such a being."

"Old one? The Dragon?" Calanon asked.

"Yesssss. We revere and respect them, though we shall defend ourselves if needed. I have hunted man and beast through the marshes and jungles, but Old Ones are neither. They are ssssssomething more. Perhaps it would be besssst to avoid the Old One for now, though it would be an honor to sssspeak to one. There should be plenty of beasts to slay if these Elvessss ssspeak truthfully." For indeed, they had explained that the Dragon's present had riled up many monsters.

An-Hasst could see Sett's wandering eye, as well as Argon's confusion over Jezebeth, and everyone's reluctance to fight the Dragon save Beren, Geradin, and Ursaren.
@BCTheEntity@Darkraven@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen

"The name is Settionne, dear Lady, of no particular title save the shorthand "Sett"," the priest introduced himself. The way he carried himself was far different from the other priest, Ursaren. He was too casual, too ready to come so close to her. It narrows down which God or Goddess did he serve exactly. As he helped adjusted the straps on her breastplate finely, Jezebeth could feel his fingertips, light and gentle and no doubt agile, great for a good number of applications.

But dare I say, 'tis a shame for the gods to disregard a woman of such fine moral standing as yourself," Settionne went on, and Jezebeth would have snorted in amusement if it wasn't her darkest hours. You have no idea, Settionne, you have no idea, the knight thought, with much guilt and regret. Even before her husband was killed by an incubus, Jezebeth had cheated on him more than once, when the needs that had been plaguing her for so long would not be placated by even her other half. She had ended up soiling her own honour and that of another knight, who would relieve her when the time was right. After he fell victim to a demon attack, Jezebeth had given up her restraint- there was something inside her, an inner demon, as the philosophers would call it, that she couldn't shake off. In the end, she had pulled several knights down with her, including her own squire, who was always by her side...

Putting on her knightly armour, and taking them off in the night.

And that wasn't to mention the consorts she had kept in her city.

"I admit, I am only marginally aware of the Guardian Order, for I have not often found time to discuss current matters over the books and sermons of old, you know how it is with us priests, but a bane of Demons, Poverty and Famine? I can hardly say I've heard a more ringing endorsement in my life! And going by your own obvious battles against their sort, well, I'd assume you are nothing less than noble in thought and deed," the priest Settionne would go on ignorantly, as they moved on to her left arm. Yes, noble in thought and deed. Well, mostly. Jezebeth had made her own mistakes in her time with the Guardian Order. In her early years as a lesser knight, she had shown promise in a great many vocations, and one of them was as a torturer-inquisitor. Jezebeth was just so empathic, you know, a talent required by a skilled torturer. She had assisted the chief torturer-inquisitor on several occasions, and on one, she took charge and went nearly all the way in the many steps of the Guardian Order's system of torture.

First, you list out every phase of the torture, including everything that was to be done to the prisoner. If that does not dissuade him from keeping silent, then it would be the first phase of torture: Breaking, in which non-permanent wounds and unmarked pain were inflicted. Cuts were inflicted, the victim beaten. His family was threatened, including the little boys and girls. She would toy with him and his dedication to his wife by disrobing, and forcing herself on him even as she drove her dagger into him. He was faux-drowned with nails driven into fingernails, which were then pulled out. needles inserted into the most sensitive areas. Deeper, deeper...

But the man had insisted that he was innocent, that he was not a member of a demon cult. So Jezebeth began phase two: Mutilation, in which irreparable damage was done in the most painful ways possible. Fingers were broken, flesh were gouged out. Limbs were dislocated with the rack, sinews cut to prevent escape. His privates were torn out - he had sired enough children anyway. Teeth were pulled out, one by one, but not the tongue, for the prisoner needed to talk.

Yet again, the prisoner remained stubborn, so Jezebeth went on to the final phase of the torture: Erasure, in which the guilty was slowly picked apart until he confessed. Thousands of cuts were inflicted, shredding flesh and skin. Fingers and toes were severed, then slices of meat off the limbs. Magic kept the prisoner from bleeding out and dying. This would go on until the prisoner was but a worm made of torso and head, and then it would go on. Eyelids were sliced off, ears and nose as well. The prisoner had finally confessed but then the torture continues as punishment and execution. He was skinned alive, lips sliced off and eyes put out. The tongue was finally ripped off for it was no longer needed - and finally, death came.

It was later found out that the prisoner had indeed been innocent, and Jezebeth distanced herself from the torturer-inquisitors of the order despite their insistence that she would make a fine addition to their chapter, that her talent would be wasted on other pursuits. For years, she would dream of the innocent man she tortured, every step of the way, for years, his endless screams, which lasted weeks, would haunt her.

But worst of all, Jezebeth believed she enjoyed it, and it horrified her so.

"But needless to say, the loss of your Order's members is a grave and tragic blow to the forces of good in this world, and I am very sorry for the losses you have suffered. Trust, however, that such was not your fault in any way," Settionne headed for the breach again as they moved on to her right arm, the priest armed with nothing but good-will, depending on the God he served. Jezebeth knew for a fact that it had all been partly her fault, but that was a well-beaten path her consciousness had taken.

"Sometimes, of course, we are tested for our faith, in hard and distressing manners, but failure of faith is only confirmed when one first fails to do their best work in rising above such times. Naturally, I can only imagine that you and yours did their utmost to save themselves and their companions, and if that is the case, then you need not feel shame, for they will have earned their rightful and just places in the life after this one, as shall you if you but maintain your own faith," the priest would ramble on. He had tried, Jezebeth knew, and it was most certain in his closing words, how he gave her hope that, despite everything, all was not lost, and her brothers and sisters watched her still, from above. It had moved her, pain and comfort working together at last. Tears spilled once more, but she was able to control herself better, her day of mourning giving her consensus and strength, her armour somehow reinforcing her mind as well as body.

Jezebeth stood up, her upper body now clad in steel. Only her lower body and accessories were left. But something was not right.

"Help me with the straps on my right arm, they're loose, Settionne," she said, even as the priest's words floated in her mind, and she was picking through them carefully, not in suspicion, but lovingly as she remembered them over and over. She gave a sigh. "I wish all that you have said is true. But the reality is that much of it isn't."

"Tell me, priest," Jezebeth said, her mind wandering back to her youngest years, when she woke up a teenager, with nothing but her name and necklace. "What could one possibly do to earn the loathing of all the Gods and Goddresses that they would not even speak to me? Not even for a good cause would they so much as give me a sign... I have prayed every single day of my life since my foster father had found me, diligently frequented the temples and lived by the rules. Yet when the time came when I needed their guidance and help the most, I was left to my own devices. How may I appease them? "

@POOHEAD189@Fetzen@BCTheEntity@Banana@The Fated Fallen

"Avoid a dragon? Bah! I may not know much about you guys but you all look like the kinds of people who could encounter a dragon and stay in marginally good shape." barked the old man with a hearty tone. Ursaren has fought a dragon once long ago, but he was terrified when he did and it held back quite a bit of the experience from him. If anything was to be true, the old man knew they could do it. It'd be a tough fight but they would prevail with a dragon head held high and a good finale to Ursaren's tale of life. He couldn't help but overhear the newly-freed Jezebeth speak to the other priest, Settionne, about the Guardian Order and all that whatchamacallit, but he was surprised by one line. One single line of speech from Jezebeth made Ursaren reconsider a bit of what he had done.

"What could one possibly do to earn the loathing of all the Gods and Goddesses that they would not even speak to me?"

The old man never heard of anyone who had done that. Someone who lost the respect and earned the loathing of all the Gods and Goddesses had to have done something incredible in order to cause it to happen, especially so if they were in the Guardian Order. Ursaren took a moment to think about it and the only thing he could even think that could be close to it that he had experienced was... well... himself. His 'gift' opened the way into him having to learn how to control it to the best of his ability, and if he had lost his control even once, he'd be remembered in time for the abomination that he was. Every day passed where Ursaren had thought that he could just leave it all behind and let loose, but he didn't out of the sheer force that he felt something... it could only be described as the power of Maestus, flow through him, giving him a sense of greater purpose in the world. He knew he had a reason to be here, and up until now, Ursaren had lost hope...

Until he found Jezebeth.

He immediately thought that she could be like him, an abomination underneath a true soul, and if she lost control it would end in chaos and infamy. Ursaren thought that she had lost that control once and that's why she had been here, finally captive and restrained from causing more chaos. A new sense was formed in Ursaren towards Jezebeth, one that had a sense of sympathy towards her even more so now then before, and the old man cherished it. After he had that thought, he shook his head quickly and began to speak again about the recent dragon. "We could see the dragon and possibly get it's assistance for our mission. It sounds incredibly naive but that doesn't mean it won't work, and if it doesn't we seem like a group who can take it down. I may not know you all so well, but I can sense a fighting spirit within all of you, and by Maestus it fills me with confidence."

@BCTheEntity@Darkraven@Fetzen@The Fated Fallen@POOHEAD189

Alice was surprised at Urasen's change of heart. What could cause the old man to drop his goal of glory in favour of the agenda Alice herself would he pushing; trying to talk to and ally with the beast? She clearly didn't know him very well "I agree with Urasen, though if it proves to be hostile after all we will have lost the element of surprise. If there's a way to reach an understanding with it without being in it's presence then we should pursue that avenue." she set her mind to work.

She idly watched Sett work his hands at fastening chain and plate around Jezebeth, wrapping her exposed form back up into the hardened shell she'd obvioisly learnt to rely on. It was noticeable how much more she relaxed as each piece was placed upon her, as if it was making her whole again. It was a little inspiring to see, even though Alice knew deep down she wouldn't be herself for a long time, not after having seen those eyes when she was first brought before the group. Sett was also talking, and drawing full conversation out of the lady, though Alice couldn't hear what about. She found it hard to imagine it not being flirtatious, probably equal parts sympathetic and seductive. Either way him going over there had been good for her, she looked like a totally different woman.

"Don't forget the sissy magic-using knights, of somesuch somewhere. A prestigious order as ancient as it is powerful" she laughed and kept the tone light for that one, though she had quite a few old friends in the real organisation and she would have no intention of actually mocking them to their face. She continued to ponder the potential blood-lines of Beren before finally coming to a conclusion about her previous conundrum, and asking a question.

"Does anybody here know any druids in the local area?" she directed the question at Urasen, who looked half druid himself. "There's an arcane and natural ritual that means we could communicate with the dragon, without it being able to retaliate. The reason I want to find some druids is because it requires a lot of set-up, and that means either an arcane workshop or a heartwood. The latter seems a lot more accessible right now." It had taken her while to remember the ritual because it was highly uncommon, communication was normally facilitated by scrying or not at all. This method was more useful in this sense because there was no sense scrying something that was flying.

@BCTheEntity@Darkraven@Fetzen@Banana@POOHEAD189

An-Hasst's annoyance level was on the move again. Upwards was dead ahead and as long as it was fueled by massive input of... ideas... it probably would keep going. Really: First they wanted to deviate from the original plan in order to slay a dragon. Now they wanted to deviate from the deviation in order to make friends with a dragon. The Skayleigh had reached the point where he couldn't hold back anymore.

"This is a great idea, Ursaren. A dragon to our assistance would certainly massively bolster our chances of success. The problem is: How great are the chances that it will actually work ?" he addressed everyone by making lavish use of his giant lungs, then started keeping track of the count of arguments with his fingers as he pointed them out sequentially. "First we have to find that druid you're talking about. Then we have to convince him to perform a possibly very costly and dangerous ritual of some sort for us. Then this magic has to actually work - don't get me wrong, but I think if it would be that easy there would be more friendly dragons and less fear of them in existence. And all we have left to do then is to hope that all of those additional efforts still have left enough time for us to deal with the original threat." He sighed, taking in another urgently needed breath. "I'm sorry, but couldn't that be a bit too ambitious ? According to this philosophy, if we had an undepleteable amount of time, we could make friends with everyone and march towards the center of this continent with hundreds of thousands. Did we do this ? No!"

Speaking of numbers... An-Hasst secretly started a little mathematical game of his own. Those strange berries still had their effect on him and he couldn't see any reason for not using this to his advantage. The number of people convinced of this dragon idea had increased. Alice seemed to be infected as well. If things continued to progress this way they would win - he wasn't sure if it would be valid to count the wood elves' votes as well or not. They were not a real part of the group yet.

@BCTheEntity@Darkraven@The Fated Fallen@Banana@POOHEAD189

The glade was now filled with discussion of what their next move would be. The Elves lingered for the discussion, though whether it was to keep an eye on the companions or for help, none could tell at the moment. Brogach the Elk was even attentive, ears twitching to and fro.

"It's not in my nature to slay something unless it's a last resort, or it's pure evil, like a Demon," Beren said, arms crossed. He let out a breath, and Calanon nodded in agreement at that assessment. "But if the Dragon is stirring up monsters, something should be done, yes?" Calanon's question was directed at the Elves. Verya strode over to them, putting her hands on her hips and giving a gruff nod of her own.

"We have many problems to deal with at the moment, not to mention the monsters that this Dragon has brought to our borders. But we'll send scouts out to warn and escort the local populaces to a more stable region for the time being." she said, letting her voice rise so her Rangers could hear her. Of course they could, being Elves. But it didn't hurt to snap them to attention as well, just in case.

Beren nodded and placed a hand on Verya's shoulder. "Thanks." he told her.

"Dragons can speak and understand our language," Calanon said. "But...getting one's attention, or speaking its true language is an entirely different matter." What Calanon said was true, though most people did in fact consider Dragons no more than beasts. "There are Druids around here. Perhaps I could help with that, though they'd likely be more help with what Monsters were where and how to avoid them rather than any Draconic help, other than a Scrying pool which is what I think Alice meant?"

"We could help with whereabouts of the Dragon and other monsters," Verya said. "Our scouts are the best in the world. We'll go forth and provide aid where we can."

"Great, here come the Elves to save the day," Geradin muttered sarcastically. Verya raised an eyebrow at that and turned, but Beren spoke first. "He's...he's new. It's ok," the Warrior Monk chuckled, trying to ease the situation and holding his hands up. The Elven Captain looked entirely unconvinced, but seemingly gave the benefit of the doubt at the moment. Beren gave her a wink of thanks, which had her nod.

"I am more new than the Dwarf is," Argon said, raising his scaly hand.

"I believe it," an Elf said in the background.

"If there is a cursed Drake here, I say we ignore it or kill it. But let us not mince words with a Wyrm," Geradin announced. "The beasts have slain enough Dwarfs for us to ever forgive that race of monsters."

---

@Fetzen@The Fated Fallen@Banana@BCTheEntity

Settionne hummed to himself in thought as he re-tightened the straps on Jezebeth's right arm, then knelt back down to deal with the lower body pieces of her armour. His speech had apparently enthralled her so far- and her figure was about as enthralling to him- but how to answer that sort of question without seeming insensitive? What did one do to earn the wrath of every single deity known to man, and every other race besides?

'I cannot think what sort of abominable act would deserve such punishment,' he started slowly, 'though if one were to summon a powerful demon... no, no, that sort of person would already be unlikely to try and speak to the gods, surely... ah, actually, a thought comes to mind.' A rather genius idea, actually, if he said so himself, that was sure to soothe her personal issues somewhat. Perhaps Fineki's charm had been gifted to him after all.

'You must understand, my lady, that most people are not in fact granted so much as a word with the gods they worship. Even the most devout priests of some deities are rarely granted interaction with them; why, I myself was just yesterday granted a minor miracle that I'm sure I would never have been so much as considered for under normal circumstances.' And in truth, it was somewhat of a miracle that it had worked at all, let alone managing to trick both Princess Vanya and Alice as intended. 'Perhaps, then, such is the case for you: they may hear your prayers, but as is often true of deities do not respond... at least not directly. It could be that rather than directly assisting you, they have guided you on your path in ways that have not been obvious, such that it has seemed they've done nothing at all? "If you do things right," as they say...'

And that, he admitted, was a little bit of a risky reference to one of Fineki's mottos, or at least the cult Sett was part of, specifically relating to theft of goods and how one needed subtlety for such acts. He figured throwing the slogans in every once in a while would not seem disingenuous, especially if the listeners did not know the source of such. Speaking of listening, he'd kept half an ear open to the conversation about the dragon in the background whilst finishing the attachment of Lady Jezebeth's armour to her figure; by this point, they were discussing the pros and cons of trying to talk it down via some form of arcane-natural ritual, allowing them to avoid being in its presence proper during such a chat.

'Now, if nobody minds me giving my tuppence's worth,' he said, loudly enough for the other debaters to consider, 'it bears mentioning that most Dragons are far more powerful than most other... well, anything. They're not quite on the same scale of threat as Dark Elves, so to speak, and we'd probably all die if we got into a fight with it. I also seem to recall somebody saying that this is unusual behaviour for Dragons, so perhaps it has its own problems that we might be requested to deal with if we just try to talk to it about what those might be.

'However, the point is somewhat moot for the time being,' he continued boldly, now trying to get the attention of the Wood Elves specifically for what he had to say, 'since it sounds rather like the timing of such an endeavour is not particularly limited, whereas our royally-ordained quest very much is, as, ah... as my good friend over there-' He gestured toward An-Hasst as he talked, not entirely sure of the Skaylay's name and not wanting to admit that. '-has already pointed out. Granted, we don't know the timings involved in said quest, but rest assured that failure to complete it would have dire consequences for our world! So, it may be more sensible to try and assist with the issue of Dragons and other monsters after halting whatever plans the Dark Elves have in mind, no?'

@POOHEAD189@Darkraven@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@Banana

The old men stared at An-Hasst with a smug grin after everyone else had their say in the matter. From the slew of information bestowed upon the group, with how the dragon was stirring up monster trouble, if any druids were in the area, and the fact that the dragon is possibly having it's own troubles, the group had a bit of work cut out for them, but it was nothing they couldn't do. The first order of business for the man to answer was the way that Alice was looking at him when she asked the question about druids, probably inquiring if the old man was a druid himself. "Don't look at me like that Alice, I'm not a druid. I'm a wizbear- I mean a wizard." was the answer gave by Ursaren, followed by a bluh like he mispronounced his words, which he somewhat did. It shouldn't really raise any suspicion though as the concept of lycanthropic bears is nonsensical to all but the incredibly well informed and the... well... gifted. Either way, the old man continued his wise old rambling.

"Now, although I may not be a druid, I do know a slight bit about the rituals associated with nature and dragons and what-not. I can't honestly speak on the behalf of them though as I'm still very ignorant of the rituals, but the existence of druids within this forest is highly plausible. In any case we have to follow the advice my old grandpop gave me... 'Ursaren my boy, remember that an assumption is an assumption unless investigated', and as such we need to search this forest in order to properly find these druids that exist or don't exist and we have to obtain their help with this dragon. For those that oppose the idea of handling these dragons, we need to remember that if we don't handle this problem, there will be more monsters in this area tht will hamper our progress before we can even accomplish this goal, and we have the problem of that same dragon attacking while we try and proceed, leading us to truly just be done there. I say we confront this dragon before continuing. Anyone else with me?"

"I cannot think what sort of abominable act would deserve such punishment, though if one were to summon a powerful demon... no, no, that sort of person would already be unlikely to try and speak to the gods, surely... ah, actually, a thought comes to mind." Settionne said, which echoed Jezebeth's sentiments. For all her knightly life, she had sought an answer to her lack of divine favour, but to no avail. She had seek the wisdom of the most trusted priests, consulted librarians and their library, visited oracles when she could. They had all given varied answers, some common, others not so.

A particularly mad oracle had told her that she had committed a grievous sin in a past life - if there is such a thing as reincarnation. A philosopher speculated that the reason could lie in her lost memories, before she was 16, that she must have done something remarkably evil, and regretted it so deeply that her mind could not take the strain, thus forgetting. But what could a child do that must anger the Gods so much?

"You must understand, my lady, that most people are not in fact granted so much as a word with the gods they worship. Even the most devout priests of some deities are rarely granted interaction with them; why, I myself was just yesterday granted a minor miracle that I'm sure I would never have been so much as considered for under normal circumstances. Perhaps, then, such is the case for you: they may hear your prayers, but as is often true of deities do not respond... at least not directly. It could be that rather than directly assisting you, they have guided you on your path in ways that have not been obvious, such that it has seemed they've done nothing at all? "If you do things right," as they say..." Settionne preached, another addition to the army of clerics, priests, oracles, librarians, wise men and philosophers she had attended throughout the years.

Jezebeth gave it some thought as she secured the plate on her left leg, while the priest tightened the buckles on the right. Her back ached when she bent low, her wounds crying out at her, like ghosts of the past, like her unknown past.

"Perhaps. I have been tutored in the mysterious ways of the divine, and yet I see only paths of my own making, nothing to suggest their help. Many of my peers had been blessed by the Gods. At the battle of the Twinbridge Peak, say - Knight Greymoor glowed red with the power of Rodgar - I was just behind him. He started chanting eldritch words, and the knights in formation around him were blessed just like him - all but me. We had been outnumbered by cultists and their demons 3 to 1, and we won the day because of Rodgar. There are a great many other accounts I can give you, I believe I can put to you that we, the Guardian Knights, are constantly under the gaze of the Gods and Goddesses. Yet I seem to be the black sheep... Even my enemies within the order had seen fit to insult me with the fact, that I belong with the outcasts and the treasonous! My closest friend, Elizabeth, even joked that I was Selene's avatar, and thus has no need for divine favour," Jezebeth explained sullenly. Elizabeth had actually made some sense, considering the circumstances of her life. But wouldn't she remember that she was actually a Goddess or a representative of the Goddess?

The only other possibility that a priest had related to her was that she had already been blessed overmuch, having been born with such stunning beauty, beauty that could even return after the most disfiguring of scarring, that perhaps she was a heroine in her youth who had been touched by the blinding light of the Gods, or that she could be the subject of some obscure prophecy - for her circumstances were strange indeed.

Settionne seemed to consider this for a time, before the serious discussions on the dragon took his attention. They were done with her armour, at least. Jezebeth thanked him for his audience and help, adjusted her gorget slightly, and started gathering the rest of her things. Putting on her shawl. Putting on her standard loincloth. Strapping on her weapons belt. She hung her sheathes, and with still-shaky hands, picked up Kasdeya's Deathstroke. The blade was visibly shivering from her still-recovering strength, so she had trouble replacing it in the sheathe. It took three tries before she could get it right, all the while feeling ashamed and wretched (how far must I fall?). She sheathed her dagger on her left, which was easier. Next, entered her quiver of bolts and crossbow hook for reloading.

Wrapping her cloak around her, she fastened it, feeling a little awkward in it, as if she could no longer bear it, after what happened to her army. But it was a necessity, for she was cold. She picked up her shield, still splattered with demon blood, and wore it on her back. Looking into the reflection provided by a still-water puddle nearby, she saw that her cloak was also splattered in some places, her armour as well. The elves had cleaned much of it off, not for her sake, but theirs. She was only glad that they had courtesy enough not to burn her belongings and throw the ash and metal in a river.

Walking over to her backpack, she started rifling through her own things to check if anything had been stolen - but everything was as it should be. The bags of over 200 gold pieces were still there. Her fallen friends' pipe and wine were still there. Her flute, her rations, her dress and slippers, sewing kit, personals were all accounted for. There was one thing she could give the elves - at least they were not thieves or looters.

Picking up her bag on her right and her sallet helmet and crossbow on her left, she looked over to her whinnying horse and then to her new companions and former captors. She paid heed to the discussions on dealing with the dragon all the while, wondering if she should lend them the tactical edge of the Guardian Order. The answer was quick to reveal itself in her mind: No. Jezebeth just did not feel confident in that arena, for she was unreasonably afraid that she might doom them all just as she might have doomed her friends and peers.

Walking over to her horse, she secured her backpack on its back, untied it and lead it close to her friends.

She listened.

@POOHEAD189@Fetzen@BCTheEntity@Banana@The Fated Fallen

It took the Skayleigh only a blink of a moment to get interrupted by the unusual combination of Settionne's voice and what he had to say. The priest and thief in union would find himself confronted with an askant glance and a smirk whizzing over An-Hasst's elfish face. Good friend, huh ? What a particularly interesting wording coming out of this mouth. However the thought of the other man possibly being oblivious about his actual name failed to cross the Kaelic man's mind.

Yet it was undeniable that at this point and from his personal point of view Sett's statement had been a benign one. Actually the priest had been the first to openly concur with his own thoughts of this whole idea being too much of a deviation to bear reasonably. For the moment he could count him as an ally. Finally.

"Don't look at me like that Alice, I'm not a druid. I'm a wizbear- I mean a wizard."
A what ? Ursaren's glitch in wording and the old man's subsequent attempt to mask it by throwing in some artificial noise probably was capable of fooling the majority here, but An-hasst's senses were still enhanced by the Le'ednal berries he had eaten to eagerly. The problem was that the Skayleigh lacked the proper context to draw the right suspicion out of the little mishap. after all: Someone who had dared to introduce himself to his future party by composing a poem could be expected to experience such things rather frequently, couldn't he ? So Ursaren's very unusual way of presenting himself took over the job and prevented his little lycanthropic secret from coming closer to its revelation. What did disturb An-Hasst though was the man's opinion.

The Skalyleigh let go of a rather loud sigh: "Alright. I suggest we speed this up a bit: I want everyone who -- by the power of all of his knowledge, experience and will -- wants to search for this dragon and either fight or try to communicate with it to raise his hand, please!" He did speak this out loud enough for everyone to hear it hopefully.

Then he turned towards the commander of the wood elves. This time he did use the native language and he did so with the full intent of hiding what he had to say. "I'm grateful for what you've done so far especially for me and I really would prefer it not having to try and stretch your resources, but... Do you have some horses or other mounts you could provide us with ?" He made a subtle gesture with his right hand. It pointed towards Jezebeth's steed. "It could speed up our progress, especially if we are going to search for this dragon or the monsters it's driving out of their habitats."

@POOHEAD189@Darkraven@BCTheEntity@Banana@The Fated Fallen

Settionne spoke to the group as he moved over lace and buckle. The gist of it was that he believed that while the dragon was important, the groups current quest seemed puissant enough. She ran thumb in frustration more than thought over the back of her hands where she kept them clasped otherwise idle at her waistline. Everyone was refusing to consider the idea these events might be linked, and that if they are ambushed by the dragon as oppose to the other way around it would be a massacre! Trying to stop this dragon before it became a threat, or at least realising the true extent of it's threat could be integral to their original mission

She turned back to Urasen for his confirmation. "Don't look at me like that Alice, I'm not a druid. I'm a wizbear- I mean a wizard." What? Her fidgeting became still again as confusion and surprise shot through her mind. The man made a child-like spluttering sound in gesture that it was a slip of the tongue, but what could he have slipped onto? Her shock probably worked for the benefit of everyone else as she didn't have a moment to butt in, so he proceeded.

"Now, although I may not be a druid, I do know a slight bit about the rituals associated with nature and dragons and what-not. I can't honestly speak on the behalf of them though as I'm still very ignorant of the rituals, but the existence of druids within this forest is highly plausible. In any case we have to follow the advice my old grandpop gave me... 'Ursaren my boy, remember that an assumption is an assumption unless investigated', and as such we need to search this forest in order to properly find these druids that exist or don't exist and we have to obtain their help with this dragon. For those that oppose the idea of handling these dragons, we need to remember that if we don't handle this problem, there will be more monsters in this area that will hamper our progress before we can even accomplish this goal, and we have the problem of that same dragon attacking while we try and proceed, leading us to truly just be done there. I say we confront this dragon before continuing. Anyone else with me?"

Oh thank the gods she wasn't alone in her line of thinking. She nodded in agreement with Urasen's statement that an assumption remains an assumption unless proved otherwise or something. "I agree, my plan is a bit flimsy should we not find any druids or a Heart Oak. Argon, how well do you know the forest? Well enough to recognise signs of druids, or their territory for your people to avoid?"

Her line of inquisition was interrupted by their very loud companion, An-Hasst. "Alright. I suggest we speed this up a bit: I want everyone who -- by the power of all of his knowledge, experience and will -- wants to search for this dragon and either fight or try to communicate with it to raise his hand, please!" she waited to see how others would vote, more out of instinct than anything else. Anyone of class knew that opinions were like currency, and if spent on a failed cause it's value decreases and may even make the group cast her out. She worked her thumb across the back of her hand again.

He also turned towards the Elfen commander, requesting horses. She added her own argument to help him, "We're out of the swamps for the most part now, we'll take the woods slow enough and gain a lot of time on the plains." She hadn't been in the saddle for a while, but that sort of generalist knowledge was hardly that of an expert. "Besides, if we happen to get ambushed by that dragon some horses may be our only chance of escape." Vrettonnian cavalry tactics actually went into detail about how to counter a dragon attack, which is needless to say a similar way as to react to magic. Scatter as a group, and run for cover. That way any sort of fire breath and like will be far less effective. A secondary and all the more ghastly prospect might have also occurred to the commander as it did to Alice, which was the old saying "One does not need to run faster than the lion, one need only run faster than their friend." which seemed very relevant since a horse would be far more appetising to a dragon than some adventurers, no matter how muscled some of them are. The second plan might be a little too pragmatic for some, but Alice didn't make an addendum to what she said, leaving the idea hanging in the air

@POOHEAD189@Darkraven@BCTheEntity@Banana@Fetzen

"Horses?" Argon echoed, blinking and slipping his tongue out to 'taste' the air, just in case he could get an aroma of sweet Horseflesh. Granted, he wouldn't eat any that were beholden to his new friends, but they made quite the meal. "I shall run. A Horse cannot carry me."

Indeed Argon was most likely right, for he was about Ann-Hasst's height, with no Elven blood to counteract his large size. He was a solidly built warrior of muscle, and weighed every inch of his near 7 feet of height. That, and his armor was full body plating. The only person in the group that could hope to get close to his weight was the Dwarf, if Geradin was similarly armored. Thankfully, he was lightly garbed (for a Dwarf) with chainmail and layers of leather, as a Runepriest ought to be.

"I wish I could run," Geradin muttered, clearly uncomfortable with getting on a Horse himself. It didn't feel nature to the grounded Dwarf. If he must use a mount, why not the mighty Mountain Ram? "I have spoken my peace about the Dragon. I would rather see it slain. Though if there be no other way, I suppose I could stomach the beast's company."

Meanwhile, Beren felt a tad torn. He'd felt wary of Jezebeth and her...unnerving beauty earlier, as well as his pendant glowing whenever she was near. But to see her lament in such a way, he could not help but speak to her, for his conscience wouldn't let him ignore her. The tanned Warrior Monk approached her as she mounted her horse. Though he did raise his hand to show Ann-Hasst he felt it prudent to talk to the Dragon, as did Calanon. Once Beren had gotten to Jezebeth's horse, he gave her a kind smile.

"Forgive my earlier shyness. I'm an Eru'Dai," he said, holding his hand out to shake. She would understand that as a variation of the term 'Warrior Monk,' for those who followed the EverGod and used unarmed combat as a norm. They were also notable for never being gifted divine powers as most Paladins were, as she seemed to be. "Perhaps the EverGod favors you, and sees fit to guide you in a more mysterious way than most of the lesser Gods. It's a great honor, I'd say."

Verya agreed to granting those who wished to have Horses, to ride until they reached the edge of the Elven borders. She explained her Scouts would be all about them, so they needn't fear for many miles. "Or at least, if a Dragon or any such monster were to attack, you'll have aid. These are our borders, and we will protect them."

As she spoke, Calanon leaped upon Brogach beside her and grinned, proud of his fellow Elf's steely nature.

Elven acolytes strode out of the woods almost ethereally, guiding white, brown, and black Horses with mere hands on their necks. There was no need for reins, so well trained were the steeds.
@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@Darkraven@Banana@BCTheEntity

Sett appreciated the thanks given him by Jezebeth, and her unique plight was certainly intriguing even given his usually-blasé approach to godly matters (or was that her appearance associating itself with the matter?), though for the time being he'd probably think back to it as and when the opportunity came by again. For now, An-Hasst's question about who wanted to fight the dragon was foremost in his mind, and he had more to add to what he'd already said. Not that the old hermit and younger mage didn't make convincing arguments themselves, but as had already been stated, a dragon's wrath was not a particular time limit compared to that of whatever would happen if the Dark Elves succeeded.

'I reiterate that we can probably handle the Dragon after we've dealt with the Dark Elves,' he mentioned lightly to the group, still in the guise of "helpful priest", 'and that if the two choices are connected as Mr. Ursaren suggests, it may be that handling the Dark Elves' plots would calm the more threatening option beyond the need to deal with a Dragon directly.' Assuming, of course, that they were connected, but again, the hedge mage's own words could work against him if that was brought up: "an assumption is an assumption unless investigated", as he claimed, so why not investigate the less dangerous assumption first? Then they'd live longer.

Not that it mattered either way, because now the Wood Elves were bringing out horses. And what fine beasts they were, stronger yet more lithe than any horse he'd seen in Vrettonia to date. Not that he'd seen many horses in his location... nonetheless, the party was seemingly intended to ride upon them, and that provided Sett with a bit of a problem. 'I admit, I have not been trained to ride a horse,' he admitted, feigning mild embarrassment with lowered eyes and fidgeting hands, 'never mind any horse without saddle or bridle. And, well, I worry that I'd hold the rest of our party back if I were to take my own...' The intimation that he'd need to share with somebody else was, he hoped, self-evident. If he was lucky, maybe his assistance with Lady Jezebeth's armour would even have gotten him in on riding with her, and oh, what a treat that'd be.

@POOHEAD189@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@Darkraven@Banana