Helo

Avalia

Time: Morning
Location: Forest; Near Gaurav Village
Interactions: Viola@13org, Phia@princess, Darius@FunnyGuy, Dante@Alivefalling, Menzai@samreaper
Equipment: A pack with some supplies, seeds (in his pockets), a small knife, a mask that hangs from his belt, a weapon with a shifting charm that is either a sickle or a glaive, and a shield/drum with an unbreakable charm.

---

“Can’t go, not yet,” Cyrus responded. Phia had already flown off, if Phia thought she could convince the Roc to leave, he had to trust that. If Phia left to allow the Roc to chase her, then he’d go as well. Because Viola was right, they should not allow themselves to be separated again. He kept his focus on the swirling mass of sticks and shattered treetops.

The two muscular elves did things that elves simply could not. A massive dust cloud had been summoned, it barely slowed the Roc down as wings kept beating to displace the cover. The Roc found its spot and landed; a swirl of dust, rock, and branches danced around them. Something hard slammed into his side. His footing faltered, but Cyrus kept focused on only Roc and magic. The bird’s eyes were dangerously fixed on Phia whose courageous flight had been thwarted. What was clear was this was not a matter of entering the wrong creature's territory, for the Roc this was all survival. It would have to be a choice for survival for the group as well.

“Is your plant still hungry?” He asked Viola, remembering how quickly and easily the Blood Rose had drained the boar earlier. Could it handle something much bigger? Even enough to weaken the Roc would be a start.

As the Roc’s massive beak snapped toward Phia and her closeness to the bird made it impossible to fling the collection of wooden shrapnel towards the pair. “Move Phia.” A soft whisper carried the wish away mixed and muddled with the sounds of wind, snapping branches, and the screeching bird.

A flash of white, as demihuman lept from the trees, saving Phia. The horrid sound of shattering bone cut through the noise as the demihuman was bitten and flung aside. A bloody arm remained trapped within the Roc’s beak. Opportunity opened. Every bit of wooden shrapnel, any bit of plant material his magic could keep hold of was sent hurting towards the Roc.

Avalia

Time: Breakfast time!
Location: River Port; Malachi’s mom’s house
Interactions: Malachi@princess, Jun@JJ Doe, Enstille@GingerBobOh, Kenia@Tae
Equipment: A halberd, (always with him) hunting knife, and half-plate armor (left in the room).

---

Zion shook his head as just about every other member of his new pride gave the kindly neighbor woman the cold shoulder. While he could appreciate Jun’s rush to get to the breakfast table, at least a few words with the elf he’d run into would’ve been nice. Malachi on the other hand was just outright rude. There was just a sad flickering of his tail as he took the coins from Malachi. He kept the warm smile up for Kenia, he couldn’t imagine how disheartening it must be to show up to extend the hand of friendship to one’s neighbors only to be treated poorly. Zion knew, without a doubt, his mother would be deeply disappointed if he did not try and correct the situation.

“Well, I think that sharing good food and neighborly intentions are the best first steps to harmony. I am sorry the others seem to have lost their manners, but I’d like to welcome you to our table. We have meat, and eggs that are surely growing cold, to share.” Zion offered up the amas Malachi had given him, on the chance that she’d rather take the coin and leave. At the same time, he gestured towards the kitchen with his head, a room he hoped they all headed to soon.

“Malachi is rough around the edges but carries the heart of a warrior.” He accentuated his point by slamming a fist against his chest. “The others are just a bit shy.”

Avalia

Time: Morning
Location: Southwest of Roshmi City
Interactions: Rue@Potter, Bardulf@Lava Alckon, Bridgette@Tae, Mister Luum@FunnyGuy, and Zeva@Pink Khione
Equipment:Sword, hunting knife, a backpack with supplies, and a stoat named Raze who naps in the pocket of his vest.

---

Bowyn wrapped his arm around Rue’s shoulders, his hand lightly squeezed the top of her arm. He followed Rue’s gaze to the elf who had led the owlbear to them. “Trouble, that’s what she is.” He said rolling his eyes. Mister Luum had ordered Bridgette to carve up the owlbear and normally Bowyn would’ve just gone ahead and helped, waste not want not and all that, but Rue was leaning on him so he stayed by Rue’s side.

“Stay away from the new elf, gods I hope she’s not taggin along, but last thing we need is her figuring out-” Bowyn began to offer his opinion to Bardulf who seemed utterly lost in his own head. And then the human was suddenly shouting at no one. Bowyn just stared at the human as lightning cracked and hit the ground in front of the human. He sighed, no point in advising Bardulf to keep his powers and identity secret now as sparks were shooting off the man’s body.

“Bridgette has the creature handled.” Bowyn gestured with his head before pointing a finger at Bardulf. “You will get a handle on those powers before we set foot in Roshmi, or we are all gonna be executed before the day’s over.” Bowyn hissed out his annoyance. A slip-up like this in front of the wrong people would mean an immediate failure of their mission and almost certain death at the hands of the dark elves. How hard could it possibly be to simply not shoot lightning around? A glance at the new elf made it clear the scene had not gone unnoticed.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Lord Leo Smithwood

Time: 7 pm
Location: Outside the Guest House
Interactions:

Leo had offered parting words and left Ana to her plan to meet with the party’s host. If Wulfric knew Ana was doing this, then the prince likely already had more precautions in place than even Ana knew about, and he shouldn’t have to worry. But he did anyway because whoever this guy was, Leo had a bad feeling about him that only got worse when Ana mentioned that this wasn't the first party like this. That she and Callum both had gone to these parties, woken up with memory loss, and thought this to be a normal occurrence. Maybe he should have offered a warning about acting so recklessly but who was he to lecture about reckless behaviors just when he had the same impulses? His were only acted out far away from polite society where they couldn’t so easily be picked apart by his peers. Well, most of the time at least.

Thea hated being lectured, talked down to, and having her every action picked apart. Leo understood this, and Ana reminded him so much of Thea that he often saw her in much of the same light. Or maybe he just wanted to see if Ana could find out any more information. Leo, honestly, wasn’t sure why he ignored the bad feeling, but with so many other unanswered questions floating in his mind, he left this one packed away. So instead Leo went over mental notes for the questions he maybe could begin to find answers to.

These secret parties have been going on for a while. Ana and Callum have been to several. The memory loss afterward has been a constant.

The party’s host was a male. He was nice enough to the two youngest Danrose royals that they both think of him as a friend.

The party was in the basement of the warehouse. It seemed like memories got hazy once they had descended the staircase. At least that was true for him and Ana both.

Whatever drug they had been given was likely mixed in the drinks. That had to be what was causing the headaches and memory loss and he could only wonder what other effects the drug had caused.

Memories of the party came as obscured, dream-like, glimpses. Ana remembered cupcakes on the ground and holding a cocktail. Cupcakes. Shit, he immediately wondered if that obnoxious baker had been there as well. He probably should’ve asked Ana about that but the chance was gone. Maybe he should interview Ezra as well.

As he went over his thoughts, trying to keep everything important organized in his mind he decided he would need to get some pocket notebooks to keep track of everything. He couldn’t afford to be forgetting clues. Eventually, he caught sight of Nahir outside the guest house; time for another interview.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Callum has another temper tantrum, part 2/2

Time: 7 pm
Location: Sorian Temple/Graveyard
Interactions:

Callum walked, or more accurately, drunkenly swaggered, purposefully exaggerating the unsteadiness of his feet, through the slums of Sorian. Poorly maintained streets lined with dilapidated buildings and numerous back alleyways that weaved and snaked about, small shops were closing up, taverns and brothels were just starting to pick up, and Edin’s Enforcement officers were no nowhere to be seen. They didn’t bother patrolling out here; everything about this part of the city was fully neglected, from the streets to the people, deemed not worth the effort by the king.

He drank from the bottle in his hand, carried the scent of whiskey on his clothes and breath, and belted out an old drinking song as he walked. It felt good to have a plan. It felt good to be acting on a plan, even if all it amounted to was making Alibeth’s life just a little more difficult. It was only fair. Despite what many people thought the young prince did have a few talents, and making a nuisance of himself was certainly one of them.

He threw his shoulder into any unfriendly face that walked too close to him. Anticipation left him feeling wired as Cal waited for someone to take the bait. He understood exactly how things worked in Caesonia; an eye for an eye, and if he wanted to be understood he had to communicate in the ways they understood. His family understood blood, and the only blood that mattered to them was Danrose blood. So he would spill his own and that felt fair like there was a small bit of justice in it.

If he did nothing it would happen again. Alibeth, nor any other Danrose, could be left to think that harming others would be an effective form of punishment or control. Not for him, and at the very least he could ensure at least one Danrose paid for their own crimes.

And Alibeth had hurt him, he would hurt her back. That was fair.

His problem with Alibeth, the reason his mother’s actions today cut so deeply, was that before now he had really believed his mother loved him. But she knew when she threatened Darryn exactly how much that would hurt not only him but Ana as well. If his mother’s love came with such malicious forms of control, then Cal neither wanted it nor would he think of it as love.

Alibeth had one weakness that he was sure of, one button he could push that would at least hurt. If seeing one of her children hurt would distress her even a little, it seemed worth trying. But what he was really hoping for, was that it would sting a little bit more for her to have look at him and know he was mirroring back her cruelty, forcing her to look at it, maybe even think about it. That would make a worthy piece of art.

It wasn't long before Callum bumped into the wrong shoulder and got a shove that sent him stumbling backward.

“Yawatchwhuryagoin’ pal.” Callum exaggerated the slur to his speech as he pointed the almost empty bottle at the man's chest. It was just as quickly slapped away and watched as the bottle was knocked out of his hand and shattered against the ground. “Ruuude.” Callum exhaled a dramatic whine of a word as he glanced at the shattered bottle.

There was a gruff ‘fuck off’ muttered as the man tried to shove past Callum who repeatedly moved to continue to be in the other man’s way. Now Cal was grinning as he grabbed a handful of coins from his pocket. He threw them, one at a time at the irritated, red-faced, man while speaking slowly, “Go. Buy. Some. Manners. An-”

Callum didn’t get to finish, a solid right hook knocked him back and spilled the rest of the coins from his hand onto the ground with the glass and remnants of whiskey. It could’ve stopped there but Callum really did have a gift for antagonizing things. So he got back up, repeatedly, and continued to make himself a constant pest that needed swatting at by angry, heavy, hands. Until he found himself laying on the streets of some back alleyway with a foot constantly smashing into the same spot on his ribcage until it was hard to breathe. His final attempt to get back up ended with a hard kick to the face that left him laying on his back looking at the stars. He wasn’t entirely sure if they were imagined stars or the same ones that were always in the night sky but it didn’t matter.

He achieved exactly what he’d set out to do. He allowed his skin to be painted in the shades of violence and it was both worse and better than he’d expected.

It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to lie still. There was this deafening ringing in his ears that muffled out the sounds around him. Blood from somewhere on his face was stinging as it ran into his eyes, blood from his nose was running into his mouth, and the blood in his mouth was constantly being spat, or more accurately drooled, out onto the ground.

Callum’s face twitched into a grin because it was glorious. Alibeth would know he had done this because of what she had done to Darryn. She would know that the next time she repeated her actions, he would repeat his. She would know because Callum would look her in the eyes and say it. All this was certainly worth that.

“Praise be to Claero, answerer of prayers, most worthy of worship. Thank you.” He whispered through clenched bloodied teeth. He had found a god worthy of worship, the infernal god had not only listened, but he had blessed Callum with everything he’d asked for. Some bit of that infernal calamity had worked its way into his life, and it would spread. Hopefully to his mother. If not, he’d try again. And if it did work, he’d set his sights higher.

Eventually, he would get up, but he didn’t plan on going home yet. There was a brothel not too far from here, he planned for that to be his next stop. A brothel always had offered a warmer welcome than his home ever did. He could sleep there, better than being tossed into the medical wing of the palace by miles. He was just going to need a few minutes, probably a whole lot of minutes until he was ready to do anything besides lay in the alleyway. Or maybe lie here til morning. Drunken, beaten, and pretty damn close to lying in a gutter; what mother wouldn’t love to hear she’d caused such fate for her son?

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Leo & Anastasia

---

“Outside it is.” Leo agreed with a nod and followed Anastasia out of the guest house into the cool evening air. He thought over what he’d ask as they walked, he had to keep his questions focused; things she might be willing to talk about and that wouldn’t trigger a need to protect the party's host. It had been a long day, and an even longer dinner, so he avoided trying to start any small talk. Leo would be willing to bet the day had been just as taxing on Anastasia as well.

“I’d like to talk about what happened last night if that’s alright with you. It’s the memory loss that’s been troubling me. So if there’s anything you can remember, anything about what happened last night, if I took anything there, it would really help ease my mind some.” Leo asked once they’d found a spot to speak without anyone listening in.

Anastasia exhaled softly, her breath mingling with the cool evening air, as a wave of guilt washed over her heart. Her entire demeanor shifted. "...I'm so sorry, Leo. I hope you are feeling okay and not hurt or anything from last night." She first said sincerely.

"You know I would never take you guys anywhere if I thought there was a risk of getting hurt, right?" She hugged herself tightly as she settled onto a nearby bench.

"...Honestly, it's all a bit hazy once we arrived at the party," she continued, her brows furrowed in concentration. "I have brief images, but I can't guarantee they weren't from a dream or something. I vaguely remember seeing cupcakes scattered on the ground, and there might have been a cocktail in my hand. I think… I think we went down some stairs to go there, right? Weird to go downstairs in a warehouse... I realize it sounds really stupid, doesn't it?" She briefly covered her face with her hands, feeling overwhelmed by the situation.

"I feel terrible about what happened to Darryn and what happened to everyone, especially Zarai. She doesn't deserve that," Anastasia admitted with a heavy sigh. However, determination glimmered in her eyes as she lifted her head and focused on Leo once more. "But I will find out what happened. Tonight, I'm going to confront the guy who threw the party and question him." She told him in a resolute tone, “I’ll fix this mess.”

Leo took a seat on the bench leaving a respectful amount of space between himself and the Caesonian princess. He listened, quietly, as Ana spoke, shaking his head to indicate he was not hurt, and nodding that he understood that Ana’s intentions were not to get anyone hurt. The guilt was evident in her tone and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d judged her too harshly after this morning. Leo could easily admit that it was often hard to stay reasonable in a situation as heightened as this morning's lecture had been. Until she mentioned her plan to meet with the host tonight, another reckless plan even if she was only placing herself in danger.

“I think I remember stairs, but not cupcakes. And staring at a cloudy blue sky. Which, you know, makes less sense than anything you said because it was night and we were inside.” Leo offered some of what he remembered. He hadn’t thought about how strange it was to be in the basement of a warehouse until Ana pointed that out. “When I try to recall more than small glimpses I get this terrible headache, does that happen to you?” He asked.

“Stairs, cupcakes, the sky… Ugh isn’t there anything else?” Anastasia rubbed her head and found it truly did give her a headache to try to think about the party, almost as if she had been blocked out by a wall in her own head. “Yes. I do have the headache.”

“And you weren’t wrong this morning, we are all adults who chose to go, that is not on you. Titles are stressful, they ask a lot from us, and anytime we shrug them off for a bit, it seems we end up paying for it one way or another. Those who look at our lives with envy, desperately want to see us fall. It is unfortunate, but that is the world. If you feel you need to protect the host, that is your call, I’m not looking for someone to punish. But for as much as I’d like to know what happened, how it happened, it is not worth putting yourself in danger. I’m certain Zarai would agree. It is your enthusiasm that brightens Caesonia, and that is worth more than answers.” Leo offered his thoughts in a quiet voice, without any of the usual forced confidence.

Anastasia had smiled faintly, grateful that he did not blame her. It was a nice change of pace. “Well…I just don’t know for sure if he did it…If I can’t remember what happened, it feels wrong to throw him to the wolves without at least trying to find out what went on. My parents will execute him with no questions asked…If he’s to blame for all this, I will stop protecting him.”

However, the more Anastasia thought about it, the more she realized that she did not recall any of the parties she had attended over the years and not just this one. “I usually can’t remember what happens to be honest at his parties …but I always drink too much and so does Callum. I didn’t realize it was abnormal until it happened to everyone. ” She shrugged to him, “I have been going to his parties often and he’s always nice to me. I don’t think I’ll be in danger, but if you’re concerned, Wulfric is making me bring guards with me.”

“Sounds like you’re doing the best you can with the information you have. I can respect that, but from someone who is often nice to people that I neither like nor care about, people can be nice for very selfish reasons. I’m not saying this is the case with your friend, but I am glad to hear Wulfric is looking out for you.” Leo spoke as he thought over what Ana had said; that these parties had been happening for a while and they always ended in memory loss. It had to be the drinks, it was basically a guarantee that everyone at a secret party would have at least a drink, so someone, if not the host himself, had to be drugging the drinks. With what or why were likely not things Ana knew, but Leo was sure it couldn’t be anything good.

“My concern is that this might be some sort of blackmail scheme. If you find anything out, a possible reason behind all this, I’d very much appreciate it if you let me know.” Leo added.

“Of course. I’ll tell you everything I find out. ”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Lord Leo Smithwood

Time: 7 pm
Location: Guest House; Dining Room
Interactions: Charlotte/Anastasia@Princess

Leo whispered a word of gratitude to Charlotte as he tried to suppress the need to continue coughing. A few mouthfuls of cool water brought only momentary relief, but each drink seemed to only make the spicy wine intensify once the coldness of the water had gone.

“Overwhelming spicy.” He answered Charlotte’s question as he picked up the glass with the spicy wine, sniffed at it, and almost drank from it again. There was the instinct to keep sipping at it until he felt like he had truly conquered the drink but Charlotte had also pointed out that now was the perfect time to question those who might have information about last night.

Last night, focusing on that certainly did a lot to help him forget about the irritation the spice was causing. He nodded his agreement to Charlotte, he’d try and talk to Ana and Nahir once the Sultan had concluded dinner.

After the dinner officially ended, Leo approached Ana first. He bowed before speaking, “Your Royal Highness, may have a quick word?” he asked, gesturing with his head away from the table. He’d needed to be careful with his questions, nothing that would make it obvious that he was part of an unofficial investigation. Ana had been very clear this morning that she wasn’t revealing the party’s host, so he’d avoid that subject. This way, if Ana offered up any pertinent information he’d have something to share with Nahir and he planned on being more transparent with the Shehzadi. Leo assumed Nahir would likely be just as invested in knowing what caused their collective memory loss.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Callum has another temper tantrum, part 1

Time: 6pm to 7pm
Location: Sorian Temple/Graveyard
Interactions:

Callum walked aimlessly until the sun began to fade into the night sky. He avoided crowded places, anywhere where there might be guards, and hardest of all, anywhere that he’d likely be found. Taverns, brothels, opium dens, and any building with even the slightest bit of ill repute was bypassed the second he noticed his feet leading him there. He kept trying to chew at fingernails so worn away that there was nothing for his teeth to grasp. So he scratched at spots that did not itch and rearranged his hair. His mind circled around everything his mother did with this morning’s near execution tilting the balance heavily against any good she’d ever done him.

But finally, the sun had set and the night brought resolve. There was no more waiting, Cal had a plan, judging by his track record it was likely not a good one but it was something to do, and it was different from anything else he’d done. He walked with a sense of purpose and the fidgeting quieted but never entirely ceased. He stopped at a small market area first and picked up a few supplies before continuing. His hands shook slightly with wanting as a pair of bottles clacked against one another from within the bag he now carried.

Callum made his way to Sorian’s temple, which, given the night’s current festivities, looked to be as empty as it felt. The sound of fireworks echoed in from outside, occasionally a bit of light flashed across one of the faces of the holy statues that honored the gods. His eyes looked from Zivitas, to Imperis, and to Aquena; those who had once devoted so much to. He thought about how all of that devotion had amounted to nothing. Aquena, the bearer of the waters of life, who had poured Callum’s soul into a life he so despised. Imperis, lord of justice, who had turned a blind eye to all that was unjust in this world. All loving Zivitas who was certainly nowhere to be found in Sorian, probably not in any corner of Caesonia. So instead of further wasting his time with gods that had abandoned him, Callum riffled through a clothing donation box and switched out his clothes with the most tattered replacements he could find. Seemed a fair enough trade.

He then made his way to the graveyard outside, he walked until he was sure there was no one around. The god he sought tonight had no statue within the temple, but tonight he intended to make his request to one who might listen. He picked a spot just far enough from the graves, near one of the many paths that twisted through the cemetery. He sat the bag of supplies down and grabbed what he needed. He opened one bottle of expensive whiskey and poured about half of it along the ground, liquid splashing out into the shape of a crude sigil.

“I call upon Claedo
The mighty infernal hand
Spiller of crimson gore
Sower of strife
Sovereign of discord
And I seek your influence
So it is my will.”

Callum spoke with no hesitation in his voice, only conviction. He struck a match and dropped it onto the whiskey sigil and sprinkled a small variety of herbs upon the flames, allowing it to burn for a moment before he knelt in front of it.

“Holy Claedo, courageous warrior
I ask of thee, upon this night
And this night alone;
Bless me with calamity
Bestow upon me the same chaos I have caused
Bring to me what I have brought to others
So it is my will.”

Callum stared into the flames as he spoke, he held an image in his mind; the image of himself beaten and bruised just as Darryn had been this morning. He kept the image in his mind as the fire burned away his first offering. He kept the image in his mind as he continued with his prayer.

“Oh mighty Claedo
To the earth, I return sacred gifts
Of all that has brought calamity to me
So that they might bring joy to thee
May it be a worthy sacrifice
As I seek to add discord to the world
Through my actions tonight
So it is my will.”

Near the spot the sigil once burned, Cal dug into the earth with his hands and placed his offerings; an onion, a handful of golden coins, and the second, unopened, bottle of expensive whiskey. He reburied his offering and flattened out the earth.

Callum stood and pulled a small pocket knife out and sliced the blade along the palm of his hand. He made a fist and allowed his blood to drip onto the dirt above his offering as he stood back up.

“I offer my gifts
I offer my blood
I offer my words
I offer my actions
I offer myself
Glorious Claedo
Give me the calamity I ask for tonight
So it is my will.”

He held no doubts that his offering and his evocation would reach Claedo. Just as he held no doubt that Claedo would bless his actions. He’d chosen the right deity to work with, one that aligned with exactly what Callum wanted; calamity and chaos, for himself, for his mother, and for everything that kept Edin and House Danrose in power. His belief set the path, made it easier to walk, and removed any trace of doubt from his plans. He left the cemetery with the half-empty bottle of whiskey he’d used for his sigil. Now he allowed himself a few celebratory sips from the bottle as he continued on.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Lord Leo Smithwood

Time: 6 pm to 7pm
Location: Guest House; Dining Room
Interactions: Charlotte@Princess, Nahir@Rodiak, A terrible drink made by the world's worst mixologist@JJ Doe, everyone else at the dinner.

“Don’t be sorry. A good detective wouldn’t leave his partner without backup.” He whispered back to Charlotte. Despite how tense and melodramatic the entire affair was, it was an invaluable experience. It was situations like these that offered glimpses into who people were based on how they reacted. These were powerful people, and knowing how to gauge their reactions was useful. And Leo had not embarrassed himself. As the only Varian at the table, he had been a pretty good representative of his country. That was a win for Leo.

As Nahir ordered for everyone’s glasses to be refilled, she had staved off any potential embracement for Leo that rested inside a bottle deftly tampered with by Riona. His glass, along with the others at the table, was refilled and the wine paired nicely with the suggested chicken dish. The chicken tikka masala was both pleasing to the eye and the palate; warm-colored curry spiced enough to bring the sun's warmth to the body and rich enough to be called decadent. “Perfection, a bite like this could melt one’s stress away.” He said to Nahir after he had tried the perfectly tender chicken bathed in its curry.

“I would like to thank the high and radiant House Kadir for their willingness to share their nation's cuisine with us tonight. Every bite was truly something special.” Leo spoke, trying to bring a more positive atmosphere into the room once again as the dessert course was brought out.

At the start of the dessert course, Leo simply glanced at his empty glass, snapped his fingers twice, and glanced toward one of the servants with the expectation that it would be refilled. Since the servant he’d glanced at was not RIona, Leo’s glass was correctly filled with some sort of wine that smelled nothing like what he was used to. He ignored the strange scent of the drink, figured it must be some sort of exotic drink he’d never tried or heard of before, and in the excitement of yet another new thing, he took a large gulp of the strange concoction.

His taste buds sincerely wished he hadn’t because the foul, acrid liquid held a taste that reminded him of the way a skunk smelled. He could only assume that this strange beverage was some sort of test of fortitude because there was no way anyone drank this for enjoyment. But the drink’s pungency did not last, and Leo did his best not to make any childish faces at the table while he waited a few moments for the awful taste to reside, looking merely a bit shocked as he did so.

Then Leo felt the heat creeping up his throat. While the meal itself had been pleasantly spiced whatever had been in the drink was leagues beyond that. It started as a mild burn but the longer he sat with it, the more the intensity cranked up. He could feel his skin turning red, beads of sweat forming, and a churning in his stomach as his body fought to try and expel the drink. He choked bile and saliva back down and those too carried the drinks spice on them. But Leo Smithwood would not be vomiting at the dinner table. So he continued to keep his mouth tightly closed wondering if he should go outside and just his stomach win this battle.

But he stuck to his own advice, he was not fleeing the table over a spicy drink if Charlotte had managed to sit here through threats of violence against her family. So Leo covered his mouth with his fist and tried very hard not to pant like a dog at the table either. In through the nose. Out through the nose. Why was his whole mouth on fire?

And if Leo thought this dinner couldn’t get more bizarre, Princess Anastasia then walked in holding a bird, with her family's advisor Alden, and joined the table. Just in time to witness his struggle with overwhelming spice.

He began coughing vigorously into his elbow, before choking out, “I don’t know what that is, but it would certainly wake a man up in the morning.” He tried to make a light joke of his inability to handle whatever this spiced drink was, still thinking it was some sort of Alidasht test of fortitude, and if he was going to look foolish for having tried it at least he would appear in on the joke. Any thought of trying the desserts was gone, adding sweetness to the concoction that sat in his stomach seemed like a terrible idea.

Avalia

Time: Morning
Location: Forest; Near Gaurav Village
Interactions: Viola@13org, Phia@princess, Darius @FunnyGuy, Dante @Alivefalling
Equipment: A pack with some supplies, seeds (in his pockets), a small knife, a mask that hangs from his belt, a weapon with a shifting charm that is either a sickle or a glaive, and a shield/drum with an unbreakable charm.

---

The Roc was not dissuaded. Even as Viola added the thorny vines of her Blood Rose to the frey it seemed only a minor annoyance to the massive bird. As vines and branches reached for the creature's limbs, it let out a cry that left Cyrus, and likely everyone else nearby disoriented from the sheer force of the sound. So he wasn’t sure exactly when others showed up, but a pair of what he assumed, by their shape and lack of wings, to be a couple of very fit elves, managed to hurl a large rock at the bird’s chest. He had no clue how they’d managed that feat but Cyrus was thankful for it as it quieted the Roc. From what he could hear, these elves knew Phia, and the group now had a bit more help.

Then the winds picked up. Gales with force stronger than any storm he’d ever seen snapped at the trees and sent them flying all about. The Roc then began swooping at the trees, clearing away at the coverage that kept them all protected from any direct attacks from the mighty bird. Phia took off to speak with the Roc, to attempt to encourage it to seek food elsewhere. With the increase in the Roc’s aggression, it seemed like the smart move would be to try and outmaneuver the beast, to keep moving towards the deepest parts of the forests until the Roc could no longer find them. But that was his sister’s plan, and he understood her need to protect her village and anyone else who might be in the forest as well. Phia was so much braver than the child he once remembered who had been afraid to fly too high.

So Cyrus lifted his arms and pulled every shattered bit of the trees towards himself. With the winds that the Roc was producing even the smallest twig was difficult to accurately control. Wooden shrapnel tore at his skin, and his light clothing provided little protection against any of it. Several lacerations littered his body, but nothing so devastating to draw his focus away from what he was doing. Shaped almost like a wave, a wall of shattered trees now stood, covering them from front and above. The winds the Roc produced constantly tried to blow apart the fragile shield, but Cyrus kept pulling it back together.

He looked at the pair of elves that had joined them and nodded for them to take coverage with him and Viola, but Cyrus did not dare move his hands or try and shout. Every bit of his focus remained on his will, on keeping control of the bits of trees he held with that will, and on the Roc. Cyrus did not wish to harm the Roc, but if the creature moved to harm Phia he was prepared to fling every bit of wooden shrapnel he held back at the bird. He had not found his sister just to lose her again. There were no actions he would not take if it meant keeping what remained of his family alive. Cyrus knew without asking, without looking toward Viola, that she would do the same. That was what family did; protect each other no matter the cost.