---

Seeing the darkened ground and the virtually destroyed and entirely tipped over carriage on the side of that mountain road, which itself had a new coloring matching the ground (and the same putrid smell to match as well), Gurrond was undoubtedly glad that he had brought boots that day. The ashes were glued to the soles and rising in the air like sand and smoke, but worse was when one of his feet got stuck in a stray limb or hand still grasping up as if attempting to rise from the grave. Even then he refused to look down, as much as he could. There was no guarantee he could stomach making it to the center of that blackened ground otherwise.

"All shall be reached. You who are apart, by the touch of our shared kin are linked to mine." Two discs of white light formed themselves in front of the man's open palms as he raised his arms and a brief breeze gusted into his coat. He then opened his eyes and commanded: "Trace!"

Strings of the same white light as the discs began to form from them, waving up and down through the air as if swimming in it, before descending to a point further ahead. Gurround was about to take a deep breath, but stopped before actually inhaling, his face contorting after a sniff. His mouth closed and puffed like a squirrel, and finally he followed to where the strings led him, and knelt down where they converged. He looked once quickly to the sky, clouded by what might soon be a rainstorm, but for now drew his gaze, at least more comfortably than anything below would. His eyelids closed and finally, he looked and reached down, scouring the ashes with his fingers until they felt the still semi-heated metal. He grabbed whatever it was with his pinky finger and ring finger, as he had been taught.

He was now holding a small circular metallic object with star-shaped holes spread in a ring around the center, and inscriptions forged into the other parts. A coin, but not just any kind of coin, this particular coin had been made into a magical tool set to trigger a wave of flames in all directions upon activation. A common use of the shattering principle, but not one whose deadliness should be underestimated.

Now came the hardest part. Gurrond put down the coin where he was relatively confident he could find it again later without relying on magic to do so, then began digging into the ground. His arm pulled back by instinct when he felt what remained of ribs, and finally started coughing as he was no longer able to hold his breath. He almost covered his mouth with his hand, before recalling that said hand had also been digging through the ashes and opting to cover it up with the back of his arm instead. He reached back again and kept searching until he found what he was looking for: a tiny piece of mostly burnt, but still distinctly non-human material. Given the proximity to the remains and to the place where he found the coin, it had indeed most likely once had been part of the perpetrator's clothes.

The material appeared as several linked hexagons of a color somewhere between light blue and grey. They were evidently tough, but a little wave showed they wobbled with ease. The remaining fabric on it was more loose strings than anything, and there were signs of loose light brown matter in several places. Gurrond would still confirm it with magic, but even without it he almost certain that this was stonewood hermit shell, a common material in some villages near the location of the explosion, often woven with strands of fabric whose color matched the season, so as to appear less armor-like. But if the perpetrator wore such poor man's clothing, then...

"They might not even have been able to read what the tool's inscriptions were." His widened as he realized something, however. "Wait...the hermit's village's woods are too dense for anyone to go around in carriages."

His breath sped up as he frantically looked around, his eyes darting allover the place and ignoring the twisting of his stomach as he digged everywhere he could, careful only not to accidentally bury the coin he found earlier. No corpse, no fragment of clothing left or any tool suggested the kind of wealth that would be needed to purchase or really use a carriage ride with escorts: Whoever had been riding the carriage was not amongst the corpses!

"All shall be reached. You who are apart, by the touch of our shared kin are linked to mine. Trace!" The same discs of white light as before appeared, and the same strings emerged, but this time much faster. They swam under the carriage, and Gurrond sprinted towards it, placing his hands at the egde. "Raise!"

The light from the spell emanated from under the carriage as the magical circles formed in his hands and helped pull up the side of the carriage. There was a large hole and much debris, dark like charchoal, but under it there were two figures embracing one another. There were burns and wounds all over their body, but by some miracle they could probably be treated if an expert in the principle of rejuvenation handled it. An expert like Gurrond.

He approached to examine them more closely. The two who were buried under the carriage couldn't be more different, except perhaps in their similar-seeming ages. One was male and another female, one looked wealthy (probably the owner of the carriage, most likely) and another not so much.

One was alive, and another was no more.

---

- - - - -
Tags: @siej @stone

1. Female
2. Rich
3. Young Adult

1. Female
2. Average
3. Young Child

1. Male
2. Dirt Poor
3. Toddler

Are you a boy or a girl?
Female

How wealthy are you?
Rich (GM pick due to tie)

What age group do you belong to?
Young Child (GM pick due to tie)

---

Gurrond leaned over the pair, he could tell at a glance that there was no more breath from the the poor young boy. He had probably been some sort of servant to the girl in the fancy dress, the one covered in wounds head to toe anywhere that the boy had not taken the hit for her. Gurrond closed his eyes and lowered his head at the corpse, internally commending the poor child for his bravery and sacrifice. It was one that he intended to honor, and if for some reason his superiors needed an explanation, he could probably tell them the girl could have information or potential or something of the sort.

"Up and down, left and right, all shall return to the center, yet never shall they be of the center. You who aren't shall be for you were. Transform." The girl's body trembled for a moment, and light green circles of light formed above her wounds. Ripples seemingly formed on her skin around the wounds, like those of a lake that a pebble was thrown into. Her arms, and legs and all the rest of her body grew slightly thinner, she frowned and shivered as her skin, muscles and bones stretched almost like tendrils and joined together to close the gaps and other damage of her wounds. The girl coughed for a moment, but even so probably didn't have the strength to wake up yet. Gurrond went back to pocket the dropped coin, before returning and carefully sliding his hands under the girl's body to lift her up.



The girl woke up facing an unfamiliar wall, and what a terrible wall it was. The decoration was frankly tribal, just black as charcoal bricks piled on top of each other with some blue-colored carvings all around it. There were no forms of precious metals or arachne tapestries anywhere to be found. She attempted to roll on her bed, but spinned right back before even turning. Her body growled, her arms were virtually unresponsive, her head wasn't quite fully up yet. Pressing her eyes closed, she gave it a bigger push and managed to roll to the other side of that rough bed, only to see the room's decoration hadn't improved much compared to the wall. There was a wooden door with some steel bars on it now, serving as locks, and a bench, no windows though. Frankly if not for the bars resembling more a reinforced door than a cage, she could have been forgiven for confusing this place with a prison cell.

Actually, was it not a cell after all? This place didn't seem like any where she would be taken. Which could mean she had been...yes, it was starting to come back to her, the memories, the carriage ride, the noises outside, the carriage suddenly going up and turn in mid-air with them inside spinning and hitting every corner of it, and how Grain had hugged her, and pressed her against him, shielded her body...he...he...

Her arms moved slightly forward with the panic she felt after the door's mechanism suddenly moved aside the steel bars and it swung open. In came this towering man (though to be fair, almost anyone would look towering to a small girl helplessly lied down) with a ruffled brown beard and grey skin like ashes. Though his eyes were too dark to tell what color they were a shade of, it was still possible to tell the pupil apart from the cornea, and right now both were staring down to her. After a moment a smile opened in a mellow but undeniably happy expression.

"You're awake! Thank the makers ! And what a good time for it." He shouted, following those words by opening the door behind him again and rushing out of it.

The door was left open! This was her chance! The girl gritted her teeth, using what strength she had in her hands to attempt to push her right leg forward, then her left leg forward. She needed a couple moments to breathe before pressing her hands onto the bed, every ounce of willpower she had being channeled into trying to at least make it a sitting position, only to end up losing her balance and nearly falling off the bed, if not for the large grey hand stopping her from it. She looked and the saw the grey man had returned, trying to balance supporting her with one hand and holding a bowl with something steamy and a wooden spoon on his other hand.

"You shouldn't do that yet, okay? You should still be resting." The grey man pulled her up and back into the bed, and the girl didn't resist it anymore. Much as she didn't want to admit it, she really didn't feel like she had the strength to move at all. "You were very badly injured. I am not good with the principle of making, so my apologies but healing you perfectly is beyond my ability. Your body should be able to act more naturally in a couple of days though, even if it takes a little bit more to actually recover your strength. So, since we'll be hanging out together for a while, my name is Gurrond Patheeker. What's your name, little lady?"

---

- - - -

Tags: @erode@yankee@stone

4: Isabell
5: D
Color I am using, which is a light purple.

4. Isabelle (e is important)
5. E

#ffb6c1 Which looks like this!

4. Isabella
5. Option D
Color: Maybe like an in-between? (#DA70D6)

4. Misery (C'mon, adjusting a single name minutely shows a clear lack of inspiration)
5. C
Option: f26522

What is your first name?
Isabellae

What do You Want to Respond to Gurrond?

D) "Whatever they are paying you, I'll pay double. You can always count on the word of an Allerstone!" You puff your chest out proudly, but then remember: "Oh, and my name is [name]. [name] Allerstone."

(color: f26522 )

---

Albeit this treatment wasn't unkind, she was still left in this disgraceful, for lack of a better word, CELL, bland as they came, without a clue on whether she had been rescued or kidnapped. When she was asked for her name, it seemed like a good opportunity to put her cards on the table and make her demands. With an arm almost as limp as a rag doll, she somehow managed to lift it up enough to bring it to her chest for what she hoped was a slightly more dignified look.

"Whatever they are paying you, I'll pay double. You can always count on the word of an Allerstone!" Isabellae puffed her chest out proudly, but then remembered: "Oh, and my name is Isabellae. Isabellae Allerstone."

"Allerstone. One of the prominent craftsmen families that's taken to creating magical tools as of late? Are you saying you are their daughter?"

"But of course! Was the insignia on the carriage not enough to tell?" Even if it was just a layer of cloth, a famed craftsman's insignia was usually a symbol most should recognize, especially if they knew of the craftsman or craftsmen family in question. Who, after seeing that symbol of the golem hand on the side of an enchanted blade, would ever again hesitate about its perpetual sharpness or the toughness of the steel? Who wouldn't be able to tell of the honor and prestige of a carriage bearing it even on a simple cloth banner hanging from the window?

Gurrond's eyes widened for a moment, but he brought a hand to his chin, covering over his mouth while his eyes seemed to scout the ground. Then he took a deep breath and lowered his head.

"I'm truly sorry for your loss, Isabellae."

Isabellae could practically hear her next heartbeat: it felt like some sort of ominous hiccup.

"My, my loss?" The air inside her lungs felt faster, her mouth was hung open by them. "Grain didn't...he didn't, right?"

"Grain? Was that the boy that was with you under the carriage? I'm sorry for his loss too but... Isabellae, do you not know what happened to your parents?"

She almost shivered, but her feelings were growing mixed. What was he talking about? What was this Gurrond about to reveal to her?

"Did something happen to them in the Amberins?" Gurrond's eyes instantly met hers.

"So you really haven't heard about it. But how, misinformation? Treason perhaps? No, that isn't important right now." The grey man's hands gradually came closer together, grasping at each other. "Isabellae I... I'm going to say something that... no, I don't know how to tell you this, but your parents, they never made it to the Amberins. They were... they died in an ambush almost two weeks ago. I'm sorry."

As if jolted with a sudden herculean spike of strength, Isabellae's arms nearly propelled her out of the bed, as if attempting to jump towards Gurrond. She screamed, but Gurrond caught her in his arms. He softly lowered the panting girl down to the ground as her hands instinctively clutched his clothes and she shook her head. Her stare could have split a shield in two, but not a word left her mouth even after her panting stopped and she let go of his clothes at last. Gurrond headed towards the door.

"This is probably a lot to take in. I am not good at delivering this sort of news, but I suppose this is probably a time when I should leave you be alone for a bit. Let me know when you feel ready to talk, or call for me if you need anything. I'll be right around the corner. I'll leave the door open too, alright Isabellae?" Having said that, he passed through the threshold. The door was left just a sliver away from closing, just enough to be able to see the corridor outside from the right angle.

Isabellae just sat there, staring blankly at the door. Each of her senses felt numb, there was almost a ringing sound in her head, the path ahead seemed blurry, she could barely tell what kind of floor she was in anymore. Her limbs felt even more limp than before too. She closed her eyes. Memories began flooding her mind.

Her earliest memory was probably the time when her mother brought her to a party. It was hard to remember a lot about it. The lights were bright, the sounds felt overwhelming, the faces were all so funny or scary. She remembered crying a lot, though as expected the 'why' of it was rather fuzzy. SHe remembered lessons her parents taught her about enchantments and signet-stamps, the old and new lifeblood of their trade. She remembered how they joined in when the maids wanted to dress her up for the holidays.

She remembered the day she met Grain...

---

- - -
Tags: @loganthecat @stone @erode @yankee

D

C

First pick is A but in the need of a tie-breaker, D.