Time: Morning
Location: Campsite outside Roshmi City
Interactions: Scathael @Apex Sunburn
Mentions: Aerilyn @Alivefalling, Mari @princess, and Thraash @funnyguy

---

A new morning had come, and the mood within the campsite had yet to shift for the better. Most of the camp's occupants had become less inclined to spark any real casual small talk, and the more extensive discussions were far and few between. To Five, it was evident that everyone was still dealing with the shocking news - and the disturbing sight - of Scathael's village and its population being put to the flame. The Warforged that morning simply kept silent, only having a single optic monitoring the camp's perimeter and casually regarding the still-wakening group. At the same time, his remaining eyes were attenuated to the chemistry set before him.

When Mari and Thraash departed to acquire Scathael's services a few nights prior, Five remained at camp to attend to his attempted repairs. Aerilyn would've tried to generate a discussion or two to pass the time, but the Warforged, whether out of lingering wariness and distrust or having simply put all of his focus into his arm, had either ignored these social advances or grunted in response. Safe to say, it had been a relatively quiet evening after the loud-mouthing duo departed. Eventually, they would arrive a couple of hours later with Scathael in tow. Five would pry his eyes to meet the three, only to find that this, 'Scathael,' was, in fact, a Dark Elf. Five made no attempt to respond to Mari's introductions of the newcomer, and the Warforged stared at the individual who would be repairing him. <<REALLY?>> was the single word that finally escaped him, confusing everyone in attendance.

Though his disdain for Dark Elves remained undisclosed, Five begrudgingly cooperated with the grey-skinned Elf, allowing Scathael to peer into his unarmored limbs to take in the framework construction and note the damages present. For the most part, all Five did was comply and watch the Dark Elf plan about the repair work the following morning. Of course, it would be that following morning, and the unfortunate events that came with it infected everyone with gloomy frowns that persisted to the present day. Five understood this, perhaps more so, as both witness and perpetrator. Five had made it a point for himself not to relive the past or to recollect memories; there was no reason to dwell on maybes or what-ifs. Events that transpired were historical benchmarks to regard and nothing more. Such narrow lines of coded thinking derived from a prior state of simple programmed mentality. The Dwarves, however, gifted him with sapient and independent thought and the chaotic and unreasonable emotions that rebelled against instructions and execution. And so, the memories weren't as easy to suppress as he would have hoped.

The destruction of Scathael's village was described as a massacre. The various reports and descriptors divulged in the group discussion had ferried Five's troubled mind to a place he wanted to forget: the conflict between the dwarves and the dark elves. Namely, an operation where he and his Warforged squad struck out against an outpost lying behind enemy lines. The underlying stratagem: to pull the Dark Elves' attention away from the front. A distraction. His brethren began their assault at nightfall, and resistance was unexpectedly light. It was presumed that the encampment they attacked would host a reserve company of soldiers. Instead, its occupants were but a token force of troops, should it be called that, and a far more significant number of laborers. Civilians. The mechanical force had been programmed to determine if an individual was to be considered hostile by several telling factors. The mission, however, demanded total destruction, and in the ensuing chaos, what algorithms dictated specific actions had become garbled when the garrison mixed with the fleeing colonial citizenry. A bloodbath quickly ensued within minutes of the assault.

Five recalled himself cutting down a Dark Elf defender before turning the corner from a row of dwellings, coming to a firey scene of devastation. He had arrived at a main street where housing and other facilities were ablaze. People were running, screaming, trying to evade the murderous rampage brought forth by his unit. He began walking forward, attempting to identify anyone or anything that could be deemed a military target. A mother and their child had abruptly fallen into his path, likely fleeing the carnage, prompting him to halt. Five glared at the vulnerable and helpless pair as they looked back at him, no doubt scared beyond imagination. His ebony armor melded with the shadows cast by the arrangement of buildings, and the only elements of his presence were his glowing red eyes and his still blood-soaked sword, having been illuminated by the nearby inferno. The mother seemed paralyzed in fear, unable to move, while her young daughter cried relentlessly. Five remained motionless, simply judging the two dark elves until the words ((NO THREAT)) bloomed into his mind. He moved forward once more, causing the mother to embrace her child, fearing their manifested doom was about to strike them down. Five ignored them, and his only regard was stepping around the two non-combatants and resuming his mission. Afterward, the operation was considered a failure, primarily due to faulty intelligence. The massacre of a colonial settlement had indeed drawn attention away from the front lines. Yet, it had also given the dark elves a vengeful purpose. The tactical and strategic gains obtained from the attack were temporary at best, and pressure on the front escalated within a matter of days, bringing several intense assaults.

Whatever became of the two dark elves he spared that night was beyond him. What was perceivable to Five was their frightened expressions, laced with fear and uncertainty. The same expressions that painted the faces of Scathael and his plus-one, Vallana, the only survivor from their village. Five had little to say after the news came to him. As blunt as he was when speaking his mind, he even knew when to keep his metaphorical tongue in check, annoying as that was. At the very least, his repairs would continue regardless of the transpired revelations, something Five was somewhat surprised about. The Warforged would not expect the Scathael to continue their commission in light of the massacre of his and Vallana's village, yet the Dark Elf did so regardless. Five was skeptical if the obligation to his work compelled Scathael to carry out the repairs or if it was a matter of keeping his mind from dwelling on the current tragedy. Whatever it was that drove the dark Elf forward, Five wouldn't question.

However, what concerned him was the apparent fatigueless befalling Scathael and Vallana's presence in general. The appearance of the fox girl had certainly taken Five aback. The assembled party was nearing the appointed hour of hunting a Manticore, only to take in a child whom they would struggle to properly care for, much less even protect, should they insist on bringing with them. From a soldier's perspective, Vallana was a liability. Five, were he not restraining himself, would have demanded Vallana to leave, both for the benefit of the group's effectiveness and for her own good. Circumstances, however, complicated this notion since she had no family to return to besides her relationship with the Dark Elf. In essence, there was nowhere for her to go. Scathael's health was also a complication that Five became more concerned about. While the continuation of his repairs was appreciated, Five could see the dark Elf's ability to manage his personal time was declining. As Five observed closely, his tasks were solely set on his repairs and Vallana's care, with rest becoming a secondary task undertaken only after the first two were satisfied for the day. Five concluded that sleep deprivation was becoming a risk factor for the dark Elf, a fact that he would not suffer from should Scathael lose his edge as a result.

((HOW TROUBLESOME...)) he noted.

It was the following evenings Five found himself to be the most active. Not needing any sleep, there was no questioning him taking the first - and only - watch every night. During his vigil, Five took the time to test the repairs to his right arm. Admittedly, Scathael's efforts to rejoin his arm and maintain it were impressive. Five was almost sure the amputation of the damaged segments of clockwork was the only solution. Yet, to his annoyance, the Dark Elf had proved him wrong. Scathael had managed to repair many of the components Five had nearly written off and even fabricated patches to several crucial parts, guiding the complex locomotion to his afflicted limb. Five was sure to take note of every little detail as he purposely stressed each gear, piston, and crank through their paces. Thus far, everything appeared to hold together; it was all he could ask for at this juncture.

The remaining time not fiddling with his arm was spent fabricating new concoctions for his fogger device. The nerve agent he used on Thraash during their bout was nothing short of a success, especially since it had afflicted the Dragonborn within seconds of deployment. He had used the substance only a few times prior, with such proceedings being validation tests to prove its effectiveness. Yet it could still be improved upon, as Five noticed how the concoction, in its vapor form, could not spread as quickly as he would have liked, which no doubt enabled Mari and Aerilyn to take proper action against it. While he strove to improve that aspect, a thought came to mind when he recalled his observations of Scathael and Vallana. Neither of them, for their own reasons, had been able to rest well in light of recent events.

And he aimed to change that.

Five briefly humored the idea of a sleeping gas, which was undoubtedly plausible when considering the nerve compound would've shared several similar ingredients. Yet a vapor form for the new proposed agent wasn't his outcome. Instead, he sought a consumable method. With a few of the herbs he had on hand and harvesting some of the native flowers for their alchemic properties, it was a simple venture in developing a blend that could induce a relaxation effect, which the Dark Elf and the fox demihuman very much needed. Ironically, his efforts in helping the two were partially out of genuine concern for their state of mind. He figured that if Vallana could attain better rest, it would enable Scathael to do the same and reduce the likelihood of him making an error or two through the final stages of Five's repair. Simple practicality is all that it was for Five's part.

As he was wrapping up his little project, Mari broke the silence, proclaiming how upset she was, without explanation. Five paid no mind to the angsty Light Elf as he poured his work into a small satchel. Scathael would retort and demand quiet so Vallana could rest. At the same time, Thraash elaborated on the futility of such a request, given Mari's apparent agitation.

<<A REMEDY FOR YOUR CONCERN, SCATHAEL,>> came Five's dimmed voice as he produced the satchel and presented it to the dark Elf, <<SHOULD YOU AND YOUR KIN BEFALL TO TENSION, ADD THIS MIXTURE TO YOUR NEXT TEA. IT WILL CALM YOU TO SLUMBER.>>

Time: Morning
Location: Camp outsite Roshmi
Interactions: @princess Mari, @Apex Sunburn Scathael, @FunnyGuy Thraash, @ShiningSector FIVE
Current Equipment: , mithril breastplate with Deflection enchantment, Strength enchantment gloves, adventuring clothes, large survival backpack, two large red potions, three pink potions, two black potions, cooking pot, portable fira, teeth cleanser, body cleanser, time teller, darksight glasses, travel shelter, portable bed, small pillow, lantern, flask, rope, wayfinder, fire starter kit.

---

“Hurry it up, Ears.”

"I’m goin, I’m goin! Y’all need to be in tip top shape, a great meal takes a little time." Aerilyn announced as she added the final touches of spice to the Joverine Boar, a trophy from her morning hunt. Surveying the group, she saw a mix of anger and sorrow, understanding their emotions after what they'd been through or heard.

"I get it, things are a shit show. But we got a job to do and a bounty to collect. These aren't your run-of-the-mill goblins, and that manticore? It's a beast of its own league. We can't afford distractions when we're out there."

Her ears twitched as she considered their surroundings. "We're still not out of the woods yet. There's a chance we'll be ambushed by a patrol, hungry for turf or their own quarry." Aerilyn's tone turned serious. "Stay sharp. Once we've eaten and packed camp, we're hitting the road." She stated with a thump her foot. “Well, food is ready come get your butts over here.” Aerilyn looked towards everyone smiling in hopes to atleast lighten the air.

_{T I M E : One Week After Human Arrival
L O C A T I O N : Seaside Park, Port10
I N T E R A C T I O N S : @JJ Doe, @Conscripts
T A G S : @JJ Doe , @Conscripts
E Q U I P M E N T :}




Rowan nodded to Barrock. He was thankful the orc was consistent with his understanding. He felt he should not be surprised that the ogre had not simply left them yet, but it appeared, he still was.

Rowan had lived a long time, longer than most creatures in Avalia. While something’s did change, he saw other patterns that remained constant. The orcs’ characters were part of the stable flow. However, as Aurora often reminded him, even when they were young, to never underestimate the goodness of any creature.

Of course, he wanted to honor what Aurora had told him, but he was a soldier. There were things — ruthless, horrid things — he had seen. When murder meant victory, as is true for any creature, wise or unwise, it is with great difficulty to have such a pure and clean perspective about the world. For this reason, he felt even more hindered by his protective nature for his dear sister. She would never truly know what Barrock and he had seen. In some ways, it was a blessing, but in others, it was a curse.

His frown settled deeply on his mouth. He kept his hand on his sister’s back. Gingerly, his fingers appreciated themselves against her arch. “Hmm. I see,” a sigh emitted from him. He was trying to hide his despondency, and it came with a heavy breath of self-restrained wrath.

Elven eyes slanted towards Vasco. The human body made a small stir. “We have already lost one. Losing another would be inevitably even more of a setback.” He closed his eyes. His hand stopped rubbing Aurora’s back and touched his temple. “Tempting fate is never a wise decision.”

“Love…” Aurora said almost inaudibly. “… is watching someone die.” These words had changed meaning to her, now. In some ways, they had grown richer, but in other ways, they had become more impossible to grasp. The dark mystery that taunted her endlessly, had grown into a greater abyss.

Rowan was about to reply to his sister, when Vasco interjected. “We were wondering when you would awaken.” His silver eyes pierced at Vasco’s smugness. The Light Elf despised Vasco’s wanton nature. He believed that Zara would have respected their state of affairs. Humans were difficult creatures, and he could not help but despise them. “So, tell us. Where were you last night?”

Aurora bit her bottom lip and took a glimpse at Vasco. They had found him a dreadful state. Maybe this was too strenuous of a task for him. As tough as he wanted to present himself, he was just as fragile as Zara. “We are so relieved you are well, Vasco.” She forced a smile through the tears. His light was different than Zara’s, but it was still just as bright. In the midst of the darkness, at least, there was one more star of hope. “We were worried about you.”

A small twitch flicked on Rowan’s eyebrow as his sister spoke. He could feel the same tension on his frown, lingering into a disdainful smile.

Time: One Week After Human Arrival
Location: Seaside Park
Interactions: Aurora/Rowan @mole Vasco @JJ Doe
Mentions: None
Equipment: Longsword and Plate Armor

---

Why did he put up with this? After Zora's death, he could have just eloped. He owed them nothing really, and their survival record hadn't had the best of impressions. But part of him had pledged to come around with them, and he was going to keep that promise. And another part of him wanted to see that dark elf suffer for the crime he did towards the poor girl. Either way, he is now here, having to deal with this...guy...the more annoying version of Zora, a lot less obedient and disinterested in the group's goal.

"None of this alien slang, please." The polite demeanor was more veil for certain 'preferences' for this human. He had been talking weird words all night long, and Barrock was at the very end of the ropes trying to understand what he means.

When it comes to Rowan and Aurora, he was softer on considering what just happened, but he too thought that the milling about crying about Zora artistically wouldn't solve their current situation. They still had a mission to do, whatever that this rebellion gave them.

"What do we do now?" Barrock asked, mainly towards Rowan, as he was more the group leader. Barrock remembered that Zora was supposed to be trained under them before she got axed off, so he assumed Vasco was meant to be the same. "Going into the woods somewhere and train him, or what?"

ᴛɪᴍᴇ | Morning
ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | Cabin, North Pass
ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ | Mister Luum @FunnyGuy, Bardulf @Lava Alckon, Masako @dreamingflowers, Rue @Potter, Bowyn @Helo,
ᴇQᴜɪᴘᴍᴇɴᴛ | Travel bag with essentials (money, rations, first aid, etc), sapphire pendant, twin daggers.

---

Zeva gratefully accepted the offer of Bardulf’s weighty outer coat, pulling the edges of the fabric closer together after he draped it across her shoulders. In addition to the duvet that she was already wrapped with, Zeva looked even more like a ball of tangled laundry than anything remotely like a living creature. Perhaps she had become a new sort of textile-based lifeform instead.

She sunk further into the crevasses of the fabrics, enjoying the sweet escape from the cold within its folds. Part of the duvet had been wrapped over her head, creating a hood that protected her ears and cheeks from the elements. Only her eyes and a peek of her nose were exposed to the outside, which allowed her to continue observing the group as they prattled on. Her attention was immediately captured by Bowyn’s idea of hunting beasts for amas; it would serve as great practice too. Zeva hesitated to say much in the moment, still paralyzed by the lingering embarrassment of her current state. A bashful smile stretched across her cheeks when Bowyn and Rue offered to find more suitable clothing for her, though the expression was barely visible past the blanket shield, save for the subtle squint of her eyes as she smiled.

“Thanks for the help, everyone. I think an enchanted ring would be super helpful! The less layers I have to wear the more I can maximize my agility, despite the cold. I still have some amas after buying my new daggers…would it be enough?” Zeva wiggled the coin pouch that had been attached to her hip out from the blankets, her hand and coin pouch draping out of the small window below her eyes. “I trust you guys to get me a good deal. As soon as I’m warm again I’ll be right back to action! I’m all for hunting some beasties!”

Scathael accepted the Warforged’s gift with some hesitation. Not out of any sort of suspicion, however; the Dark Elf had a strong feeling that if the mago-mechanical being truly wanted him dead, such a roundabout method of killing him wouldn’t be their first choice of action. The handful of Warforgeds Scathael had dealt with weren’t the easiest individuals to handle – he had to admit that much – but neither were they prone to irrationality like creatures of flesh-and-blood. Logic guided their actions; logic that could be discerned with a bit of thought on Scathael’s part.

And based on his brief observations, this particular Warforged wasn’t the sort for subterfuge. Anyone who chose to storm a bar in Roshmi’s slums – by great force, Scathael would add – for a mere two individuals was unlikely to consider poison as a first resort.

If anything, Scathael had every confidence that the Warforged’s concoction would do exactly as he said, to the letter. His hesitation came from just how well it would do so. The differences between an elf such as he and a beastkin such as Vallana were vast, nevermind that she was a mere child, and he was well over the halfway mark to his third century. Even if he adjusted the dosage, or diluted the mixture, or made it weaker in some other way, what would put him to sleep might very well bring Vallana to an eternal slumber.

But that was unlikely the Warforged’s intention. There was no reason for them to harm a child.

“Thank you,” Scathael said and chucked the satchel into his bag. He would examine its contents in closer detail later. Perhaps he might even make a visit to a chemist’s shop to borrow their tools. Either way, there was no way he was going to feed any of it to Vallana before he made certain it was adequately safe. “Your arm,” he continued and nodded to the Warforged’s shoulder. “How is it? You should have the same range of movement as before. I don’t think the patching plates are interfering with anything.” He cast a glance at the Dragonborn. “And I don’t think he damaged your magical circuits either. Not that I can fix it, not without a proper, actual forge and magework equipment.”

The Dark Elf turned his attention back to the block of wood in his hands, shaving off a few more layers and carving out the start of a long, elegant curve along its length. “It wasn’t home,” he said in response to Mari, almost reflexively. That was the truth, wasn’t it? He hadn’t even been there for that long. It didn't make any sense for him to form any sort of connection with the place. Not a deep one, at least.

He chewed on his lip, then looked at Vallana. “Not mine, at least,” he added. The girl was beginning to stir, but she wasn’t quite awake yet. Soon, Scathael knew, he would have to rouse her, and that was easily the worst part of his day. In her dreams, Vallana was still living a peaceful life. She still had her family, she still had her home, she still had her life. In her dreams, she was safe. She was happy. But here, in this waking nightmare? There was nought but sadness and pain for her. Just the sting of sweet memories turning into painful recollections of a lost past. Scathael knew exactly what it was like. He had lived it before.

“Anyway,” he muttered with a quick shake of his head. He nodded to Vallana. “What are we doing with her, if we’re going after a manticore?” He asked pointedly and looked at Mari. “Bringing a child with us to deal with something like that is bloody insane.” It had crossed his mind that he had the option of simply waiting for them at camp – it wasn’t as if the manticore was his problem. But the more he thought about it, the less it sounded like a good idea. For one, he was likely stuck with this group for a good long while, and helping them now might get him into their good graces. And secondly, a manticore’s hide was too good of a prize to let slip.

As if on cue, Vallana’s eyes slowly fluttered open. A quiet yawn left his mouth, and she looked at Scathael with a dazed smile on her face. It didn’t last, however, and quickly turned into a dejected smile as she was reminded of the reality of her situation. “G…Good morning,” she squeaked and sat up. Her eyes went from the Warforged, to the Dragonborn, then the Rabbit Girl, before at least settling on the Light Elf. “Did…Did I oversleep? I’m sorry…” She pressed herself close to Scathael, as if she were trying to hide behind him.

"No, you didn't," Scathael quickly replied, and went on with his work. "You woke up just in time, I think," he added and gave everyone else a quick glance.

_{T I M E : One Week After Human Arrival
L O C A T I O N : Seaside Park, Port10
I N T E R A C T I O N S : @JJ Doe, @Conscripts
T A G S : @JJ Doe , @Conscripts
E Q U I P M E N T :}




Where was the stillness she once knew? The calm had been crumpled, and a dark scratching feeling was clawing at her chest. And yet... Vasco's arms dripped around her and melted as quickly as they came, leaving her in a small spell.

"Keep your dirty paws to yourself, Vasco!" Rowan snapped at the human. The silver in his eyes was piercing. "My sister is very susceptible. Allow her a moment, at least. " He let out one of his heavy breaths. He wanted to strike Vasco and give him a warning for daring to get so close to Aurora. "And one more thing: have some empathy. Zara was our friend." He felt himself squeezing the word friend from his mouth, but it fell out nonetheless.

Rowan wanted to add more to the verbal combat, but he resisted. He opted to ignore some of the self-deprecating side commentary, as true as it was. Vasco was far more unhealthy mentally than Zara. How his sister kept up such a decent facade was beyond him. He feared that she was too weak to be here.

The light elf stood up and held out a hand to Aurora. "Here, sister. He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Aurora looked up at him. Her eyes seemed to have stopped crying for a moment, but her lips were still gently trembling. Rowan helped her onto her feet and shot Vasco a side glare. "Touch her again like that, and we will be replacing you." As his sister stood up, Rowan hugged her against his chest for several seconds.

"Yes, Barrock. We will need to go into the woods to begin training, but first, we should find a place to stay for the night -- a place that is safe and not out in the open. Also, Vasco is right. We should try to find and kill the dark elf who did this." His silver eyes were digging into the unknown, now. "An eye for an eye... Barrock, my good friend, what do you know about hunting another being?"

"No one can replace Zara," Aurora whispered into her brother.

Time: MORNING
Location: EXT. DOCK / INT. TAVERN
Interactions/Mentions: Guy affiliated with The New Dawn @Lava Alckon; Another guy affiliated with The New Dawn @SilverPaw; Zion @Helo
Equipment:

---

"I'll take that as a yes to all of the above then. Unless you want to, oh I dunno...elaborate?" Jun frowned at Tanithil's response. He was absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent certain he had shaken his head. Last time he checked, a side-to-side head wobble meant no in every country except Bulgaria… and Sri Lanka… and maybe India. Turkey. Okay, maybe there were a lot more regions than Jun initially thought. That wasn't the point. The point was, he was pretty sure the Captain was just trying to get him to speak.

When both Tanithil and Arlen strode off in different directions. Jun realized that they made the mistake of taking their eyes off of him. Time to make a break for it!

As Arlen, Zion, and Jun wandered toward the tavern Tanithil had pointed at, Jun tried to oh-so-casually drift off course, edging towards sweet, sweet freedom. But every time he steered himself in any other direction than the one Arlen was heading, Zion would either pull him back or block his path with his hulking frame. It was like the lion-man gained mind-reading abilities or something. After several failed attempts, Jun reluctantly shelved Plan A.

Plan B then: excuse himself to the bathroom and make his escape through a back door or window. Classic.

They plopped themselves down at one of the larger tables inside the tavern, and Jun claimed the seat at the far end. Perusing the menu, he jabbed his finger at his breakfast order, then tacked on a few extra provisions for good measure. Since Tanithil was treating them to breakfast, he might as well stock up for his soon-to-be life on the run.

Jun sat quietly, biding his time and waiting for the moment to set his plan into motion.