As the eras and rulers passed, lineage falling to new lineage, it became clear to historians and archivists across the realm that Jocun Garland had faced perhaps the single most adverse, and arguably tragic, crises of his family line's rule, and certainly of anything faced by any High Lord since. His fall, shared by the kingdom his bloodline had built, has left a ragged scar on the history of the land and the memories of its people, and it stands as a brutal reminder of the fickle nature of...

Well, to this old and aching archivist, everything. Broadly speaking, Jocun was a good king. A little blase, a little lackadaisical perhaps, but good. Certainly too lazy to be malevolent. A lot of discourse about his rule, of course, both in the years during and plenty in the decades since, so you do have to take what you hear with a pinch of salt...but that's not what this record, and the grand tale that it weaves through, is about. This record is about the stalwart band of heroes who pushed back, and nearly - so very nearly - succeeded. Heroes being a subjective term applied a few years after the rubble had been picked up of course.

Now, let's see. Where did it all begin...? Ah, yes. Here.



The Stone Blight had been ravaging the nation for four years. It had crept up slowly at first, and many people had mistaken the initial victims for mysterious wonders of nature, chipping off the rubies to smuggle away as private riches...that was before word got around, and people started actually really looking at the faces of the statues. Peering past the rough, cracked surfaces, and seeing the faces of friends, lovers, siblings, parents... then, there was fear and panic and more victims and the palace acknowledged it, whatever it was, as a plague. It got its name in time, as all things do, and after its first year it was known throughout the kingdom regardless, name or none. Four years of research, quarantine, treatment, experimentation...the palace was silent and all attempts had failed thusfar. The desperation was rife, thick in the air. And then, at the turn of the fifth, the palace opened its gates.

It began, as it often does, with town criers spreading fresh news. Across the kingdom it was announced to all who would hear that the High Lord was seeking brave and noble volunteers for an oddessey to all corners and cities. The quest would be dangerous, arduous, all-but-destined to fail...but should it succeed, the world would be saved, the cities would not fall, and the volunteers would be lauded as heroes for the rest of their lives. As an incentive, those who heeded the call would be pardoned of all crimes and paid a small boon for the travel. The caravans were to arrive during the following weeks and months, ferrying all back to Vasilius, for a personal audience in the palace. Many of them returned empty, as many found that the risk of contracting the Blight were better chances than the almost certain death of whatever quest the palace would send them on; but there were a few responses - and of course, the valient subjects of our story were among them. From here, their journey can be pieced together via word-of-mouth, hearsay, palace records, city archives, and even some of their personal journals. With the caravans travelling in and out of the city capital across the land, there was a lot of time for recollection and the sharing of rumours and news.



The caravans had delivered their passengers back into Vasilius, who were then decanted and herded into the centre of the city, within the walls of the Garland Citidel itself. They were rested and fed; physicians and magicians made their checks and signed off as to their health; and then, on the morning after, they were escorted by the elite Crownguard itself into the throne room itself at the very core of the palace. There they stood, in audience of High Lord Jocun himself - Queen Vesindra behind his throne tending to their child, and Aborran at his side to advise. Jocun regarded them with an almost weary optimism; a faux hopefulness, put on for show, but not a reflection of his true beliefs. Jocun rose from his throne to address the room.

"You brave souls are but the few who have answered my summons. A king should not struggle for volunteers to help save and serve his kingdom, but we live through dark times, and their are not many left who would consider the needs of the many over the needs of their few. Less each passing day..." Jocun trailed off as Aborran leant in to whisper inaudibly in his ear, and then both men straightened again. "You are here because you have agreed, by your very presence, to undertake a journey for the good of the kingdom. You know that the realm is divided, with our cities closing their gates and refusing the palace's envoys; you know that the land is at its most dire hour, with the blight taking scores every week, and marking more. You are here because you want to help, and as your king I applaud you." Jocun paused and sat; Aborran lingered and then went to lean in again, but Jocun waved him away.

"Aborran here will mark each of you before you leave - a combination of some advanced scrying and the best resistances we can muster against whatever is causing this blight - and then you are free to pursue your quest as you wish. Aborran will moniter you through your mark - those of you who abandon us will find yourselves held in far less favourable regard than our basest criminal. We ask that you re-open channels with our cities, and discover all you can about the blight. There may be knowledge out there that the palace is not privy too, and we need to know." Jocun gave a weary sigh and leant back, seemingly exhausted by the speech - the gray in his beard and hair seemed more prominent than ever. It was clear that the blight was taking its toll on him personally, as well as his kingdom.

"Now go. Find what you can. Save our kingdom. And best of luck to you all; this may be the last chance Vassidia gets."

Lowe stood by the kings throne, looking up in awe at the glamour of the palace throne room. He had never actually been to Vaillius. Minister Florentus just told him stories about it, and the books in the library had beautiful pictures of the castle he stood in now, pictures he would often look at during afternoon breaks. He clutched his bag tighter, anxious to leave and go on the quest, but he knew now would be too soon. The King had said something about "Marking" them and protecting them from the Blight. Lowe had no idea how scrying actually worked, but he knew his sisters could do it well. He held his arm out to the man before him. He stood tall, hooded and mysterious, but Lowe wasn't scared at all. He just silently told himself this man was no different from the older Ministers he'd seen in the church. They too were hooded, and strange but they gave him candy when Minister Florentus wasn't looking, and never yelled at him like the Kafaaran Minister had.

The man waved his hand over Lowe's arm, muttered something under his breath, and a strange mark that glowed appeared on his arm. It disappeared just as fast as it had appeared, and Lowe felt a wave of relief at not having to hide a strange mark from people on his journey. He looked next to him at the other adventurers going with him. They all seemed much older than him, except for a few. Some of them held scary looking weapons, and he thought one of them was a knight of some sort. He hated that he would have to work with a knight. He hated knights. And all they were affiliated with. This quest was his only ticket home, and if having to save the world and being called a hero meant having to work with knights, then so be it. Getting hailed as a hero, and saving people was something Lowe had never imagined happening to him. While right now he was just Lowe, the half deaf Kafaaran, after this quest they would call him "Lowe, the coolest, awesomest adventurer with his Magick Cartography set." Or at least something along those lines.

He wanted to leave now. The prospect of an exciting journey filled with adventure was too tantalizing for Lowe. Not to mention his Cartography set, that he was almost certain was a little bit magick, still had two maps left to be followed. Maybe one led to the cure. They could all return to the kingdom early, and be richer than their wildest dreams! Oh, he could only hope about something like that.

He stood silently, beaming happily, waiting for this quest to Begin!

It was uncomfortable, out here in the middle of the throne room. There weren't any walls, any nooks or crannies to hide in, and the light that poured in through the massive windows was unnatural, fractured into colors the sun herself had never painted. It might have been beautiful if you could look at it with the right eyes. But for Wri, it was merely uncomfortable. She hovered at the edge of the ragtag group standing before the High Lord, keeping a respectful but guarded stance. The High Lord's words washed over her as she inspected her new companions.

The 'brave souls.' Presumably the best people the High Lord could muster for this particular mostly-hopeless venture. Two rough-looking old soldiers. One gangly young man. A sickly boy with a fragile demeanor. The High Lord's voice meandered into silence for a moment, and Wri closed her eyes. Water-sick Travelers, the lot of them.

Although, Wri supposed, she was a Traveler too, now. She had been trying to push that thought from her mind for the duration of her trip to the capital, but there it was. She had left Eerum behind, given in when he had pushed too hard. Perhaps she wasn't strong enough to live in Eerum after all. Perhaps there was something more to it. Perhaps if Liem... but that was all pointless speculation. She was here now, and that made her a Traveler, even if she did avoid their nightly binges and keep mostly to herself.

The High Lord began to speak again after his short pause, and a shiver ran down Wri's spine. Despite how unbearably stuffy their halls were, the citizens of the capital still managed to keep everything uncomfortably cool. No one else seemed to be bothered by it, however, so she thought it best not to complain. That would only show weakness, something that she most certainly couldn't afford. So instead of complaining, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and did her best not to shake visibly. As the High Lord's speech reached its conclusion, she began to cautiously look around the room to see how her companions reacted.

Claude paid no mind as his mark was placed on his arm, though normally he would consider such a "branding" extreme cause for concern, he was far more interested in studying the surroundings of The Garland Citadel. There was something off about how immaculate and beautiful it looked inside, highlighted even further by its clearly despondent ruler, this palace was a place of triumph and wealth, an air of desperation and hopelessness seemed obscene within these halls.

But then Claude took the time to study his new companions, to be frank he wasn't exactly thrilled either. While his motivations were, as ever, purely personal he had hoped finding a cure for the plague would attract more capable looking adventurers. The two children were the first to catch Claude's eye, unless they were perhaps monk-types trained from birth he did not think they were going to be of much help and to be frank he wasn't too hopeful about their chances of survival either, better to keep a distance from those two, Claude could be incredibly heartless but he wasn't enamored with the prospect of seeing children die.

The other two fit slightly more in line with what Claude had envisioned, muscular, bearded, scarred to hell and chances are more than willing to brag about a few after a flagon of ale. Although they seemed like they could handle themselves in a fight he wasn't really jumping for joy at the prospect of being forced to work alongside either of them, when it comes time for diplomacy or, more likely, subterfuge in regards to finding research notes and such for actually getting the cure, Claude doubted they were going to aid much in that regard.

The High Lord's words fell on deaf ears for Claude, a pardon would be useless to him as he'd go right back to his old ways once this was all over and being lauded for "heroism" didn't seem appealing to him in the slightest. The money and security however were factors much more useful sounding to him and perhaps having The High Lord's favor couldn't hurt. Yet having to stick with his new allies was beginning to seem like more and more of a difficult prospect each time Claude thought about it and glanced back over to further assess each of them.

'Think of the coin Claude, think of the coin.' he continued to reassure himself

His joints gave off a dull ache as he stood there in the immaculate throne room; too immaculate. People were on the streets dying of starvation or the plague, yet here the king sat in his throne basking in the multicolored sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows. Though, the king didn’t so much as back as he did slump down in his throne. He looked tired and wrung out. Roderick understood; he felt the same way. This life on the road offering his skill with a hammer either to pound steel and iron or someone’s skull was taking its toll. He came to this meeting today to hear the king out and see what this mad errand would offer him should he survive. The pardon wasn’t important; he wouldn’t need it. He could also do without being celebrated as a hero. That wouldn’t do anyone any good. What would some old timer beat all to hell like him do for anyone as hero? The favor of the king and a reward would help though. He could retire on that, kick his feet up somewhere nice and relax his aching bones finally.

That’s if he survived finding the cure that is. He didn’t have high hopes, looking around at the others who responded to the king. Two among them were children; one looked older than the other, but both were scrawny wisps compared to Roderick himself and the other warrior standing there. He looked capable. The other man was… questionable. He looked wiry and more inclined to skulk about than stand firm and fight. He hoped this quest would need men more like him more than it would men like Roderick and the other warrior, especially with the children there. He would keep an eye on them. Another child wouldn’t die on his watch. He was tired of death, weary from the toll it took on him over his long life. Watching people die as often as he had would do that to a man, it would haunt his eyes.

As the hooded sage finally came down the line to him, he shifted his helmet slightly and slid off his left gauntlet so he could shake back his sleeve. The king’s man traced his finger over Roderick’s arm and muttered to himself a moment. A shining symbol appeared upon his forearm before fading away from sight and memory as though it were never there. This mark was suppose to protect them from the blight. If that were so then why were they not administering these to the populace to protect them? Why only the foolish souls in the throne room? Best to let the questions welling up lie for now. His mind would do better to focus on the task at hand and do what he could to work with those around him and find the cure. Finding it would take time, maybe a lifetime. Roderick just hoped at the end of it all there would still be people left to benefit from it.

Lowe stretched his arms into the air, his bag slung over his shoulder swung with the weight of the Cartography set. "Welp!" He said. "This should be quite the adventure if it's for saving the whole world. I wonder what kind of food we'll find along the way? I heard Vassilius has Sweet pies and Frost cones, though I don't know what either of those things are." He patted his bag affectionately. "I say if we're off to save the human race, we should look where the tastiest food is first! A wise woman once told me 'The fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach.' So all in favor of looking for tasty treats, say aye. If you disagree, stay silent it'll make this decision a lot easier." Despite Lowe's small stature, his voice rang out loud through the castle hall. He was sure that they had heard him, he was often credited with having a booming voice.

The thought of pies and sugar made of ice was a tasty prospect. He'd only ever tasted the bitter peppermint discs the elders gave him, and once for his birthday in a rare act of humanity, Minister Florentus allowed him a slice of blueberry pie. Ever since then he's had a hankering for anything sweet. The wagon he rode in on didn't have anything sweet, at least none that he could see. Though if the caravan his sisters rode in were headed where he thought they were headed, they wouldn't need any candy. Ever since he left Ferros for good, he wondered where his sisters had gone and if they had returned safely back to the Church. I'll check later, after the quest is done.

Gaius couldn't help but take in as much of the views of Vasilius upon entering the city, no matter how inconvenient it was to view the sights in full with a helmet on. Gaius avoided large cities like these as it posed a very high chance of capture and capture meant a death sentence to a criminal like him. Vasillius was the capital and was surely one of the most, if not the most, secure of cities in the realm. Though now he could lower his guard and simply appreciate the grandeur and beauty of the city without fear. He had answered the king's call for aid without hesitation and by answering it, he gained the incentive of being pardoned of his crimes. Though that alone will not stop some others from pursuing him, he at least was free to enter cities and large towns now.

He, along with some other individuals, were brought into Garland Citadel where they rested and ate their meals before being tested by physicians and magicians. The day after they were escorted to the main throne room where the king would address them. The pride he had felt for answering his king's call was doubled as soon as he heard his king address them...even if he felt that the hope and optimism the king had displayed was forced. The king then explained that the man named Aborran would be marking the volunteers to keep track of them as well as give them a resistance against the blight.

While waiting for his turn to be marked by the man named Aborran, he cast glances at his fellow volunteers. The first individual he took note of was a young, sickly looking young boy. It seemed that the boy held disdain and...hate in his eyes when he had seen Gaius. Not wanting to look at the boy any further he moves on to the next individual present. The second was a young girl shivering, clearly not used to the cold temperature but trying her best to hide that fact. Gaius tries his best to sound friendly and avoid intimidating the girl.

"Oi, just giving a suggestion...but you should go ask for a coat or some warm clothes. You're going to risk your life for 'em. Least they could do for you is give you some warm clothes."

After giving his suggestion to the young girl he looks over to the other two men present. The first is a hooded younger man that seemed like the one to do unsavory acts. Gaius was unsure to the actual capabilities and motives of the younger man but took note to keep an eye on him before focusing on the much older man. He was by far the oldest in the group but, due to his size and gear, seemed to be one of the more capable ones. Gaius was not able to take in any more information before it was his turn to be marked by Aborran. He had approached Gaius and marked him with a symbol that quickly appeared and just as quickly disappeared. Gaius notes the strange feeling of being marked while he looks at where the symbol had appeared on his arm with curiosity. Such a simple mark had the capacity and capability to both track them individually and resist the blight.

'Such is the mystery of magiks and the like...' he thought to himself before he heard the young boy's surprisingly loud proposition. Gaius smirked under his helmet, such are young children. Enamored by the thought of good food and sweets. 'Heh, the boy has a sweet tooth like Rivus did...' The thought causes him to wince as a pang of sadness and regret struck him. It has been years but the pain is still fresh.

For a moment, Wri looked at the man, perplexed. The scar that leaped across his face told the tale of one near brush with death, and his eyes seemed to imply many more. And no wonder he would come so close to Lady Death so often, with ideas like those. Ask for more clothing? It's not as if she didn't have clothes, and it's not as if it were going to warm up any time soon. She might as well begin to learn to handle herself in this sun-forsaken cold. And even if they did give her clothing, it would just be another thing to lose whenever fortune decided to give out.

Wri furrowed her brow, 'You really don't understand much about how the world works, do you, old man?'

The swishing of Aborran's ludicrously ornate robes drew her attention away. She held her arm out as the others had to receive a mark, holding the wizard's gaze with an intensity that seemed to discomfort him. Good. It put her on edge to have someone holding her arm like this; it meant she couldn't move if she needed to. If she was going to be uncomfortable with this situation, so was he. Maybe that would encourage him to get it over with faster.

As the mark glowed and faded, and the king's adviser quickly scuttled away from her, Wri turned back to the old man who had spoken. She drew a breath, but was interrupted by the boy's gleeful outburst. Her mouth closed to a line and she leveled a withering look at the child. Was he really more concerned about sweets than anything else right now? And no one else saw any problem with having this child along on their journey. What was he to be, a mascot? At least she knew that she could survive on her own and avoid burdening the group. She somehow suspected that the boy wouldn't even be able to manage that. Were he a child of Eerum, he would be dead already, and rightfully so. She turned her gaze downward, then took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

Travelers. Travelers and their sweets. Travelers and their food. Travelers and their drink. They took it all for granted. In some ways she hoped that the journey ahead would be a hard one; it might serve these water-logged strangers good. It really wasn't clear to her how they had survived as long as they had. Only one of them seemed to have even the vaguest sense of awareness of the room, and one of them was going so far as to wear a helmet! She was fairly certain that she could rob three of her four companions blind on the spot and the king himself wouldn't see it happening. How, then, did they survive, out there where they were unprotected, where there were real people trying to steal from them, exploit them, kill them? Was she going to have to play mother to these clueless oafs for their whole trip?

---

Wri realized that at some point the room around her had lost focus. She gave herself two breaths to regain her composure. If something had happened in those moments when she had indulged herself with her little internal rant, she might not have reacted quickly enough. Perhaps, she thought grimly, these people were rubbing off on her. She shuddered, and told herself that it was only because of the cold.

Admittedly, reading a room was not a skill that Claude was familiar with, he didn't spend enough time as part of a group to glean it, even still however he could already tell this merry band of misfits was going to provide an..... Interesting experience. Although Claude had guessed one of the warrior types would puff out their chest and attempt to christen themselves the leader of this group, it had not happened and though he was happy about that for the time being it seemed this gang needed some direction and fast.

Taking a short step towards the rest of the group Claude began to realize he had, if anything, underestimated how unprepared his new comrades-in-arms seemed to be, the boy had almost immediately began talking of sweets, at a time where they didn't even know where they were going Claude thought it best not to dignify the outburst with a response and come to think of it he hadn't ever actually visited the bakery in Vasilius so he didn't have an answer for the boy either way. Meanwhile the girl seemed to be having words with one of the warrior types, who incidentally Claude was sure he'd seen the boy stare daggers at him earlier as well.

'Must not be good with children' Claude thought to himself.

He eyed up the members of his group one final time and cleared his throat, it seemed someone was going to have to give some semblance of direction to these people and unfortunately for Claude it seemed he, as usual, was the only one with his eyes firmly on the goal.

"Before we all start giving each other affectionate nicknames" he began, flashing a bemused look at the warrior and the girl "I think it best we start deciding where to properly begin our search." His face then grew serious.

"Now, admittedly I spend a good deal of my time here in Vasilius so my knowledge on current going ons are... Spotty, the only location I know about as confidently as here is Eerum, however I've heard on good authority that the ever so friendly folk of The Barbed Church in Kafaara have supposedly been funded to research the blight. I feel it'd be advantageous for us to start there and see what they've found out." Claude gave a side glance at the boy, a flash of annoyance in his tone "But, if there's anything of importance you need to do I'd suggest doing it now. Or, if any of you have a better idea then lay it out now."

Despite himself Claude was actually somewhat thankful for the boy's outburst, it had reminded him he'd need to collect a few things for the trip ahead. Unlike the tourists he had no need for a wagon ride to Vasillius however he hadn't had as much time as he'd like to get all of his affairs in order and go over anything he may need, it'd be a long trip, regardless of if these people would agree to begin with Kafaara or not.

But then that would assume they'd all be able to leave the hall without killing each other. Claude was quite unsure which would come first.

The adults all seemed to think Lowe was an annoyance, and a tiny burden on the group. At least that’s what Soldier Girl and Mr. Is Totally Not a Thief’s looks seemed to say to Lowe. He didn’t care about that, what he did care about was avoiding Kafaara at all costs. There’s no way he could go back now. Not when he had some stuff to figure out, like the maps and the mysterious knights who killed Maruna. He wanted to keep the maps a secret, but he knew doing so would mean risking going to Kafaara. The very first place they’ll look is the church, and some old Minister is bound to recognize me.

“We can’t go to Kafarra, at least not yet anyway’s.” He told the group. “It’s sort of blocked off from everyone, at least I think it is. Minister Florentus never really went into details about the city’s walls and gates, but I do know an alternative solution!” He’d hope they’d believe that lie. Lowe actually had no idea about whether or not the city was open to people. After all, he never left the church’s walls, what would he know about the city’s foot traffic? He pulled the Cartography set out of his bag, and set it on the ground for them to see.

“There’s maps in here that lead to weird places. I can only read them a little though, I’m still learning.” He laughed nervously. “What if one of these leads to where we need to go? Or better yet, food!” He was still hungry, and in dire need of a cake, a nap, and a warm hearth soon. All this standing around and receiving snide glances from peeved adults was making him sleepy. Lowe knew the looks from earlier were totally disingenuous. I’m a treasure, and they all know it.

If Farya had noticed the the mix of disgusted and bewildered looks she was receiving, she hadn’t shown it. They saw not a civil lady, but a barbarian. And in truth, the wildling fit every practical sense of the world. She belonged to none of the large cities. And her attire was definitely as loud as primitive can be - and far into the domain of being scandalous for women with the amount of skin and scars she openly displayed. It’d be clear to most without a lecherous mind that she sought clothing for utility and practicality rather than modesty.

She wore the furrs of multiple enemies as the majority of her clothing. She furred cuffs on her forearms that reached up to her elbows. They were laced together roughly, and further secured with crude belt and loops to ensure a tight fit. The same treatment was given to her lower legs, and feet, only with the addition of a mountain lions claws reaching just past her toes. A pelt with a tail had been fashioned into a crude kilt secured to her hips, with sections of it slashed into flowing ribbons. Cloth, likely stolen from corpses, was also found. The tattered rags had been tied together and wrapped around her chest like compression bandages. And just over that was a harness fashioned out of fur and leather offering more warmth, and of course modesty to the peering eyes. But once again, it was more for utility than for others in mind, as on the back of this harness, two hooks flush to her back could be found. One designed to secure her bow to her back, and the other to hold a bag, which is currently hitched onto her wolven companion, Wolyo. Draped over her head was a wolf pelt cowell complete with a ragged mane flowing backwards that hid her red hair. It served well to further accent the mask she wore.

The only thing that seemed civil about her, was the worn and faded linen cloak she was wearing. It contrasted horribly against everything else she wore. And made her stand out even more. Perhaps it was because it had a few holes in suspicious areas?

Regardless, the wildling paid no heed to those wondering eyes. Instead her gazed shifted to various different sights. The long ear like flaps of her cowel and mask made her head appear far more animated than what is needed. Indeed, her head bobbed too and fro, it swiveled to lock onto something else of interest, and rolled here and there. Then finally they were inside the largest building in the city, presumably the king’s castle.

It was here she finally spoke. Her hand gently raised to stroke her companion behind the ears, and in return she received a curious growl.

“What is it, little one,” she heard a rumbling voice in the back of her mind. Wolyo’s voice. A voice like rumbling thunder in the distance, but baring no ill will. The wolf was dressed in a crude but protective harness of carved wooden plates. He was not completely encased, like a suit of armor, but it was enough to prevent a hurried swing of a blade from causing serious harm.

“It is as the bard’s story says,” She whispered. Her voice ironically delicate and soft. Her gaze drifted among the throne room. Her eyes spotting the Guards who gave her a grim look, and tightened their holds on their weapons. And the group, presumably the other adventurers, near the throne. “The city’s beauty is of its own, I do not know how to put my feelings into words.”

“It is not the forest. The Sickness, little one,” Wolyo rumbled. A growl in the world, comprehendable words in her head.

“... Has taken its toll. The statues, are an unnatural art - the beauty unfound - unwanted. The poor souls fleeting moments captured, flesh to become stone. Ragged breaths reduced to dust, and pain permanently peers outward into the world. Those left carry on, but I hear it in their hearts. They are scared and daunted...”

“... a tale of woe,” Wolyo rumbled through a half hearted snarl. The sincerity of the words were mixed with aloof concern and boredom. His feelings were punctuated further by the massive wolf’s teeth taking hold of Farya’s kilt and giving it a tug to get her moving.

With a sigh, the woman began walking once more. She cleared the doorway with the grace of a noble. She stood tall and proud, despite being a guest in someone else’s territory. No flagrant display of power will daunt a wolf.

She watches the last of the men recieve their mark. And without question, or documentation, she approached the robed man silently. She removed one of the furred cuffs, and extended her arm. She watched as the mark come and go like a fading candle.

She studied her arm for a moment longer. Her wrist rolling gently to get a look around her entire arm. She had no idea of the spells purpose, but it did not appear to be doing anything. She did not feel any different at least. The cuff was pulled back on while her gaze turned to her soon to be companions.

Her masked head tilted to each one, spending some time to silently study them. Her hand lazily scratching her friend’s ear while he sat by her side. For each one, her own thoughts echoed in her head.

A grizzled elder, whos eyes speaks of war.
A man of steel, a bulwark in the tides.
A prowling shadow, a hunter like herself?
An excited child, likely forgotten and naive.
A shivering woman, smells of the sands.

Three of them, should they have met under a different circumstance, she would have enjoyed the challenge of hunting them. Perhaps one of them would be the one to finally best her? The child… failed to draw concern - but instead her deepest respects. He was here, he knows the stakes, and he is likely ready. The girl however… draws concern.

The wildling’s gaze drifted down to her own body, to study it, and then back up to the other. The mental image of what Farya perceived to be ‘normal’ had been projected over the other’s body. Oh yes… her concern was founded in her eyes. For the shivering woman of the sands looked terribly underfed. A problem that Farya will have to solve over the course of their journey.

Wolyo’s head tilted. His head bobbed to each woman, and his nose giving a few careful sniffs. His jaws soon parted to release one long whine of a growl. “AAAWWWwww! This is our pack!? They are pitiful!”

Farya, smiled softly behind her mask, and gave her companion a playful slap on the nose. “Hush, dear Wolyo,” the woman’s delicate voice rang out openly. “They are perfect.”

Despite her friend’s disdainful sniff of annoyance, she stepped forward and slung the cloak from her shoulders. She draped it over an arm and offered it out to the shivering child of Eerum. “It does a pack no good to succumb to illness, and bring your journey to an end too soon.”

"Say what you want, girl. The journey ahead is going to be a long one and we will surely reach lands colder than Vasilius, lands covered in snow, and I do not think you would like to know what frost's bite is..." Gaius had heard of horrid stories where travelers had to sever fingers, toes, and even limbs that had blackened due to the cold. There were even tales where the cold had blackened the limbs to the point they simply fell off. When the time comes for them to gather supplies for the journey, he would ask for a spare set of warm clothes. Gods be damned if he were to let that happen to her just because the girl was too stubborn to ask for warmer clothes.

The voice of the younger man breaks his train of thought. It seemed that he was suggesting the group should plan, or at the very least to decide, where the group should go first. He had suggested they begin their search for answers in Eerum or Kafaara. Kafaara would be their best bet in getting a lead, though in truth he knew little about the city other than that was were the Barbed Church's influence and power was the strongest. He was one of the few individuals in the kingdom that was not a follower of the faith. Opting to believe in a pantheon of gods that each rule an aspect of the world.

It was then the boy interjected his position on the matter. According to him entrance to the city was barred from everyone. Gaius seemed skeptical at the boy's knowledge regarding Kafarra and was about to disregard it but stopped as soon as he revealed the maps from his bag for display. He decided to give the boy a chance. The boy was a cartographer, well at least one in training. Though his suggestion to take paths that lead to strange and unknown locations was rather ludicrous. They were looking for information. Not an adventure. "Its good to know that you are a cartographer...well one in training at least, but do understand that we cannot risk spending supplies and time on a 'what if.' Unless you have proof that would assure us that your venture will be useful, I cannot agree to your suggestion."

Lowe looked back down at the maps, and gulped. It seemed like there was no getting out of this, unless he could think up another tale to tell. But lying was an affront to the laws of the church, and it just wasn't something he was used to. Lowe smiled, meekly. "Yeah, I guess Thief Guy is right. I mean, maybe you can find a way into the city. I know a way in...but..." he shook his head. "I don't know if it would actually work. I've only ever mapped it out in my head, and I haven't actually tried it. The walls are too high, and the snow never gets high enough to make a foot hold..." Lowe then eyed the wildling woman who seemed to have just joined them from the corner of the room. While normally he'd be squealing over seeing an actual wolf, an idea sprang to his mind that might just make climbing over those walls possible.

The beast had big paws. And wolves are kind of like dogs, so he guessed they could dig just as well. And with claws like that, the snow would be no problem. Maybe, if they played their cards right, they could get into Kafaara. and unseen, hopefully. Lowe could sneak around. If they were going to Kafaara, then maybe while he was there he could sneak around and search for this Minister Plike. But doing so would mean possibly running into one of his sisters, and since he's been gone for so long...he can only imagine the lecture he's going to get when this is all over. But now that he thinks about it, it does seem like a good idea to go there. There was food there, and people who knew him. Maybe a friend could keep his arrival a secret from Minister Florentus. Him most of all. "Going to Kafaara doesn't sound so bad, actually. I used to live in the church, so I know know it fairly well. There's no map for the city but the one in my head, so I say we go to kaafara!" Lowe said, packing his Cartography set back up. He knew where Kafaara was in relation to Vasillius, he'd seen it on maps in the churches libraries hundreds of times. He's traced over the ship's dotted route so many times, he could trace it on the back of his hand right now. Maybe on the way to Kafaara, he could think of a plan to hide from the others, though he had a feeling that'd be much harder with this particular group of trained soldiers, a wolf girl who might also probably be magick somehow, and an obvious thief guy.

(Like seriously, the guy dresses like one of Lowe's story book phantom thief hero's. They're cool, definitely, but he'd never thought he'd actually SEE a phantom thief in real life. The wolf was more realistic to achieve because forests and stuff, but like a Phantom thief? That, like, steals stuff stylishly? He thought those were made up until now. He'd have to tell his sisters he'd met an actual phantom thief when he got home. They probably wouldn't believe him though.)

Kassandra had to use every ounce of decorum she possessed to not stare around the throne room. She'd often dreamed of being famous enough for a position like this. While she had attented Master Horridan at events in the royal palace, those were few and far between nowadays. Besides...

"Thank you, Master Aborran. It is an honor." She could barely get that sentence out without her voice trembling. To think - she was recieving a spell from THE highest mage in the land. From the look of teh other people in the group, she was teh only one with any idea of the magnitude of the occassion. Oh, what she wouldn't give to spend a day, even just a few hours in this man's prescence - to pick his brain, to learn what he knew... Maybe, if they were successful, she could ask for that. A king was one thing, but you had to work to be such a high ranked mage.

Master Mage Kassandra Fletcher, hero of the realm. It did have a beautiful ring to it.

With her arm still tingling from the spell, she checked her gear and potion bottles almost reflexively. Her staff was buzzing, ever so slightly, at the presence of a spell so nearby. Her clothing, which she thought would have been unusual before she saw the others, was simple, but pristine. And, most importantly, her hood was still on. There had been a bit of fuss when she was being checked over. She'd had to explain over and over, to doctors and nursemaids and mages that she'd been born that way, it wasn't due to illness and she didn't have so much as a cough, thank you very much. She would have dyed it, but doing her brows and lashes were enough of a hassle.

Slowly, she looked over the rest of the assorted strangers recieving the protective spell. While the sturdy, armored warrior types were what she was expecting, most of the others were not. Most alarming was the boy, definitely. He seemed to think this was going to be a grand adventure. She sort of wanted to ask where his parents were, but figured that would be rude. Then there was a girl who seemed a bit younger than she was. She seemed a lot more capable, though - something about her looked poised and dangerous.

The man in the cloak almost escaped her notice. She wasn't bothered by men in robes, but he probably wasn't the magic type. It was the hunch in his shoulders - then, perhaps, couldn't that be too many long nights bent over a textbook?

The woman and the wolf were the most interesting, and she found herself moving toward them without realizing it. Kassandra's memories of her traveling past were limited now, though she still found things remembered, hidden in scents and vivid dreams. Still, she couldn't recall seeing anyone like this before.

Carefully, she cleared her throat before speaking. "Miss, your..." Pet was not the right word at all, she realized suddenly. "Your companion is very beautiful." She paused. "Not in a.. frilly sort of way. Beautiful like animals can be. I saw a trained hawk dive for a rabbit once. That kind of beautiful." She tried not to wince as the words fell haplessly out of her mouth. This was why she had more books than friends.

Roderick watched the court mage move on to others gathered in the hall and now noticed two more individuals he had not. He took the wooden mask affixed to the woman’s face in first and then rested his eyes on the dire wolf. Not a massive thing but large enough to act as a mount and be much more fearsome than a typical wolf in the wilds. The other was a wisp of a girl who looked some years older than the children, but she carried a staff and looked intently at the king’s mage. Hopefully that meant she was, herself, a mage. Having a mage along, even a youthful one, could prove useful. He made a note to keep an eye on her as well; the wildling and her wolf looked more than capable, however. Already he was falling into old habits of picking out the youngest and greenest looking in the group and deciding to keep a watch on them. This would be different though. They weren’t riding into war, paid from a noble’s coffers. They were searching for answers. The most they’d need an old war horse like him would be for bandits or the like along the rode. Still, bandits could be dangerous in their own right.

As the others began to speak up after being marked as they were, Roderick simply listened to them and what they had to say. The boy was primarily concerned with food, the other warrior with the younger girl getting warmer clothes, the skulker with forming some semblance of a plan and a heading, the younger girl with the other warrior minding his own business, the wildling also with the girl, and the mage girl with the dire wolf. A strange bunch of individuals to be sure. He hadn’t intended on speaking up just yet, but seeing the look in the girl’s eyes brought back memories of his father’s pride and the pride of the younger men he marched with. He shifted his cloak lined with a bear pelt and slipped his gauntlet back on, eyeing the younger girl.

"They're right, little one. Pride will kill you in this world," he voice was deep and carried the hoarse tone of age, ”If you refuse to take what is being offered before we set out and succumb to the chill then you pose a risk and bring us a step closer to failure.”

Having said his piece, Roderick turned to the wiry man in the hood and the boy as he was scooping up his set of cartographer’s tool.

”I agree. Kaafara will be a good place to start,” Roderick said with a nod then knelt to eye level with the boy, ”You seem uneasy about returning. Don’t worry. Stay near me.”

He stood again, his joints popping softly under his armor, and looked to each of the group in turn with a nod.

Lowe scoffed, then remembered where he was and tried his best not to look annoyed at the old soldier. By the Spells, I hate knights. he thought darkly. "Yeah, okay whatever. So anyone else wanna go to Kafaara? Let's hurry it up people, there's food to be eaten and a bed to be slept in, and this drafty old castle has neither of those things in good quality."

He turned away from the old man, and looked impatiently at the rest of the undecided group. "I'm with Thief Guy on this one. Y'all better shape up, or I'm going to annoy you for the entire trip as revenge for keeping me away from my food. And I sincerely doubt any of you wanna hear "Minister Pimbletons 101 ways to use a compass and other useful cartography tools" really loudly at 1 in the morning." He patted his bag threateningly.

Farya only gave a meager nod to the girl when her offering had been taken. Even if the girl does not stay for the journey, she would not care if it goes missing. The primary function was to hide herself from the masses that may… take offense to her. Seeing that they were able to notice her oddness with such a disguise on, it was no longer useful. Once the cloak said it’s final goodbyes to it’s previous owner with a flutter of cloth, the wildling’s attention turned to the older man - passing on her vote for the next destination.

Where her curiosity could not be seen from her facial expressions, it was readily betrayed by her body language. Her head had canted to the side, along with her arms crossed at her chest. The posture she had was less of someone attempting to size another up, but much closer to someone attempting to pick apart a story. The way her fingers clinched at her arms tells that she found some amount of familiarity. Perhaps not by meeting in the past. But most definitely from life choices.

He was old. The young men that had became her quarry, and met either her arrow or wolyo’s teeth, told her that he was beyond his prime. Her companion, noticed his friend’s curiosity, and trotted closer to give the man a few tentative sniffs. Wolyo’s voice whispering in her ear only echoed her feelings for the matter.

“That one would have been fun,” His way of saying ‘Dangerous Game’. And whatever he smelled, the wolf-maiden did as well. Farya said nothing in response to Wolyo’s words. She moved as if she was about to say something to the grizzled elder. But her words never had a chance to step into the air. Instead, her head visibly recoiled when Kassandra managed to catch her attention.

After a quick recovery, Farya’s attention turned behind herself. And rather than turning completely, one of the woman’s legs tucked it’s heel behind her knee. She leaned and twisted her shoulders and head to peer behind herself while maintaining balance. Faint blue hints of light could be seen peering through the mask, hinting to the color of Farya’s eyes. She listened intently, and polietly. And soon… there was a soft giggling escaping the mask.

Her companion, Wolyo, had spun about and dropped to his haunches. He was standing tall and proud with his chest held high. That large tail of his whipping back and forth, and perhaps leaving a few bruises on those who didn’t get out of the way. A smug grumble escaped direwolf’s muzzle.

“Here that little cub? She called me beautiful! I am beautiful on the hunt! Beautiful!” That voice echoed so excitedly in her head.

“Yes, dear wolyo. You are beautiful. Shame potential mates fail to see you in the same light,” The masked maiden teased her companion for all to hear. The response she received was a snarl - a testament of some hurt feelings. “Come now, dear wolf. There will be many chances for pups. Just not yet.”

That giggle, was drawn out further and grew in pitch when Wolyo spun about to bring his back to face her. She gave the dire wolf a nudge. In return Wolyo gave a growling huff and adjusted his posture once more to turn his back to the woman once more. Farya’s attention slowly returned to Kassandra, a smile behind her mask. “He appreciates the complement. But Wolyo is no trained pet. We are companions, kindred spirits, everlasting. I am always Farya to Wolyo, as he is always Wolyo to Farya.”

Kassandra offered a smile, happy that she had made the strange woman laugh. The wolf seemed happy about it too, if the wagging tail was any indication.

"Farya and Wolyo. I understand. I am Kassandra." She curtsied out of reflex, although she was almost certain this woman wouldn't understand the respectful gesture. She offered her palm to Wolyo to sniff, showing that at least she had some idea of how to deal with animals. "You are both very nice looking, I think. At least interesting! Certainly not bad mate material for someone. I'm sure I will enjoy traveling with you."
She wasn't sure how honest that would be. Travelling with all of these people was going to be strange. It felt like ages since she'd been out of Vasillius. Even before the plague had hit in full, there had been school. She missed seeing the outside world, and part of her understood the thrill of the little boy. Once upon a time, Kassandra had been that way too. Perhaps that child lived in her still.

"Erm... I am going to talk to the man who seems to be putting himself in charge." Which she wasn't, really, but she wasn't sure how to end the conversation.

"Uhm. Goodbye!"

And off she went with a little nod, inwardly cursing herself as she walked away.

Farya and Wolyo both exchanged glances with one another as the other woman left. The words ‘mate material’ echoed dully in Farya’s head. Sadly, the kind of words did not seem to hold any amount of impact over her. A distant feeling told her that she was supposed to be overjoyed, but it didn’t come. The masked woman’s head slowly tilted, when she noticed her companion… beaming over the words. Tail wagging vigorously and tongue lolling out.

With a small shrug, she gently stroked behind the large companion’s ears and turns towards the oldest of the group.

“Those who are wise knows the dangers of silvered manes. The most dangerous of men, are those who grow old in a world where the young dies quickly. And where most seek out peaceful lives when oblivion nears, you march on by the sword, the sword is your world, and it shall be what takes you. Tell me, what are you to yourself and others?”

Roderick had turned from the group and began walking toward the exit when he heard the woman’s voice behind him. He turned his head only slightly toward her, showing his good eye.

”I am Roderick. Others have come to know me as the Iron Bear in some corners of the empire. And, you?”

His tone wasn’t intentionally uninviting, but the aged and rough sound of his voice made it seem as though he spoke in low grumbles and growls.

Gaius was content to simply listen to the conversation between the old man and the wildling and her wolf while he followed the older man’s lead to exit the throne room. Maybe he would go to the castle’s quartermasters and get his provisions from them?

That was until the older man had mentioned the moniker ‘the Iron Bear.’ Gaius paused in his movements. It had been nearly four years when he had last heard of the name. ‘Could this old man be the same Iron Bear that was with the band of mercenaries? The same band that had aided him in wiping out a bandit clan and saved his life? No...no thats unlikely.’ Even if he had dismissed the thought, Gaius now listened more intently to the conversation between the two.

The mask woman was undaunted by the man’s rumblings. Rather, found them curious. In a way, the voice was very similar to Wolyo’s. A low rumbling thunder with barely any malice to back it on a pleasant day. Yet like the wolf, it was the sort of voice one picks up from a life lived in blood.

He’s avoiding the question… Wolyo’s voice echoed in her head. A low teeth bearing growl for those who don’t share such a bond.

The woman, remained still for a few seconds. Her face unseen, and her eyes hidden by the mask. Eventually, she took a step forward. Than another, and again, and soon she was walking towards the door. Wolyo hot on her heels, with his head raised to glare at the older man.

“Farya. My companion is Wolyo. I did not mean your name however. What are you in spirit, in life, and in death, Iron Bear?”

At that, Roderick fully turned to face the woman with his grizzled and scarred features. He looked down at the woman, one eye still with its golden brown color and the other lifeless and gray under the scar running down and across it, and barked out a soft laugh.

”I am a lucky fuck who’s survived longer than he should have living by the blade.”

That was the statement Gaius waited for. This old man could just be someone who was posing as as the renowned Iron Bear, but Gaius needed answers now. He turns to face the two, before speaking his mind and asking the older man if he was indeed the person he was thinking of. ”Sir Roderick. I could not help but overhear that you were the well known ‘Iron Bear.’” He pauses for a moment, thinking if this was the proper decision before speaking up again.

“If that were true…would you mind telling me which pass near Ferros did your band manage to slay a bandit chief and saved a small group of sellswords four years ago?” This was it. If the man answered correctly, there would be no doubt that he was the one who had rescued him and his comrades. May it be intentional or unintentional, Gaius still needed to pay respects to the man who had saved his life all those years ago.

Roderick glanced over to the other warrior type and looked him up and down a moment, taking in the armor and axe.

”I’m no knight. It’s just Roderick. Four years ago… Was the Anvil Pass if my memory hasn't completely left me. Which side were you on at the Pass?”

Gaius couldn't help but grin at the answer of the older man. The man he was speaking to was indeed the same one that rescued him and his comrades. “I am unsure if you still remember, but my comrades and I were one of the individuals that were captured by that clan of bandits. Had you and your band not come, I along with my comrades would surely perished.” Gaius then takes a knee before pacing a clenched fist onto his chest. “My comrades may no longer be with us to express their gratitude but, on their behalf and mine, I thank you for saving our lives. I may not know how I could possibly repay you for your deeds but know well that if you need aid, I will answer without question.”

As the other man kneeled, Roderick felt a wave of discomfort wash over him. The others gathered in the throne room would surely see. Now they would ask more questions or even assume he was some sort of hero when in truth he was nothing of the kind.

”Please, friend, don’t kneel to me.”

Roderick offered a hand and pulled Gaius to his feet before continuing.

”If you feel the need to repay me, buy me a drink before we head out on the road together.”

Gaius gives the man a nod and a smile before responding. “You are humble man, Roderick. I will take up your offer.”

Farya had paused by doorway, and turned to look towards the two. The wildling woman had seen the whole ordeal. But she made no comment on the matter. It’s not even clear if such a gesture that Gaius was doing had any meaning to her. Well, any meeting originally, as if it was true - she might be able to make an educated guess on what it meant.

“It seems you’re more than a ‘lucky fuck’ to others than you claim,” she hummed. Her tone had shifted just slightly into a note of humor. “However, if that is the answer I will get. Than I will accept it.”

Turning his gaze back to the woman in furs, Roderick gave a small nod with a smirk on his old features.

”It is, for now.”

“If there are no questions for me, I must be off. I sense I am not a welcome sight here,” her head gestured along towards the door where two guards were eyeing her massive companion. Wolyo in turn flashed them his teeth with a thunderous growl, causing both to lurch back and tightening their grips on their weapons.

“But no matter. It is a long journey and supplies are short. Wolyo and I shall gather enough food to last. However…” she paused. Her gaze shifted between both men thoughtfully and rested on the older two. Intending the first few words for him specifically. “Do not dare to die on us yet. I've seen signs of those smart enough to profit from desperation. Brave enough to hunt in our territory and seek out impunity. The evidence lies in ruins along the roads. Bodies strewn about, and rivers of red rolling through the grass to merge into a single lake.”