POOHEAD189

Maverick Malediction

Neil was certainly happy for the privacy, and he thanked Rashim as the man departed. The scoundrel admittedly was very hungry, but he only wanted to eat a small portion at the moment. He could get his fill later, but his mind was certainly on other things at the moment. He and Calliope had run and run and finally they were at a place where they could relax, and he didn't really see much danger in these Seven Princes, even if they expected some sort of subservience.

What was on Neil's mind was Calliope. He saw the cues, the look, the smile within the veil, the subtle movements on her body. He didn't have to be told twice, and he sat on a comfortable chair on the table, and he pulled her own up very close, extravagantly presenting to her with a wave of his hands. She took the seat with a smirk and plopped down on it, plucking a grape out of the mounds of fruit and chewing on it greedily.

"One could get used to this," Neil remarked, eating some of the steaming chicken and fried vegetables. His stomach thanked him, and he washed it down an aged red vintage, letting him truly take the edge off. The bath, the comfortable clothes, and the food were just what he needed. As Calliope ate her fill, taking some honey fritters and a bit of the pork, Neil presented her with more grapes. He hung it before her eyes, and she snatched it out of his hands with her lips, which he noticed were delectably soft.

"Does this count as my buying you dinner?" She asked him smugly, leaning closer and giving him a marvelous view of her plump bosom. He felt his mouth not heeding his call for a moment, but he tried to steady himself.

"Honestly I...I was starting to think you weren't interested..." He admittedly, and then looked into her eyes somewhat suspiciously, though a smile played on his lips. He looked every bit the dashing bandit prince in his attire, and the smile accentuated it. "This isn't just a trick to kill me again, is it?"

It was clearly halfway a joke, but he also was somewhat intimidated by her. It was strange, but it only turned him on more. He'd never been with a woman that scared him and he quite liked it.

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

Beren's snicker at her sarcastic comment on the assassin disappeared as surely as she did when he saw her teleport. For the briefest of moments he thought something awful had happened, but then she fell into the snow and was covered by the whiteness in a large mound. Beren stomped through the snow and began to dig, uncovering her. Jocasta popped out of the mound like a genie, holding the soft crimson fabric up with wonder in her eyes.

"This thing I can work with..." she said, marveling at it.

"Well, at least I know she's ok." He said to himself outloud.

Jocasta took Beren's hand and she was pulled out of the little hole, examining the item like she would an ancient text. He envied her ability to decipher script and artifacts, and Beren actually felt very fulfilled helping her in such things. He wondered what she was looking at, but it was clear there were flows there he simply couldn't see. Beren smiled watching her.

"Well, you did kill him. You can take that, and we can keep the money together since we're going to Iskura together anyway." He told her so she didn't have to worry about him trying to claim it for himself. Her smile to him was brilliant, her eyes trailing back from him to the sarong.

"It can probably fit me, but not wearing all these layers," she said.

"We probably should get going." He said, counting the coins. Strangely they were in Basileon 'Bezants.' There were a score of them, give or take. He counted them as they fell from one hand to the other, clinking as they slid from the second hand back into the container. "Unless we got something else to do. Even in the daylight, we don't know what's out here-"

POOF.

Beren blinked and turned, and saw Jocasta was gone. He opened his mouth to say something, but there was another POOF. A vaguely sweet scent filled the air and what looked like a puff of quickly dissipating smoke was there one moment and then it was gone, and he turned to where he heard it. His nose brushed against Jocasta's, and he flinched back.

She giggled at startling him, and then revved the sarong up and whipped it at her feet again. Once more the smoke popped up and she was gone, before he heard a squawk from above him, clearly the woman having failed at showing up where intended, and she tried to cry out but wasn't fast enough. She fell directly into Beren's lap, driving the air out of him again.

"Oof!" He exhaled, and cleared his throat, blinking. She smiled guiltily and he shook his head, smirking. "This is going to be a continual thing, isn't it?" He asked her tiredly, failing to hide his delight at her having fun.

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

Beren looked at her and smiled. For a second it seemed like he was thinking of kissing her, but he didn't. Instead he said. "Thanks..." and let it hang, before pursing his lips. "Then again, now that I know you have student loans, I don't know if I want you sticking around."

"Shut up!" She laughed, hitting him with a pillow.

They talked for the next hour, joking and laughing. Jocasta explained at least some of her situation with her time in the Mythrim Tethir and the Occult Bastion, not to mention the Black Lotus. She had been right, she was probably far more sought after than he was, at least for monetary reasons. Beren's enemies were more martial or diabolic in nature, and none of them would hire an assassin to kill him save one or two. Most wanted to kill him themselves. He explained to her about his order a bit. The Eru'Dai, translated from an ancient text as 'warrior monks' were a sept of fighters and peace-makers that followed the 'One' which Beren thought of as the Evergod. It was a lot more lax than a knightly, dogmatic order. It was wrong to fight unless people were threatened, never kneel before anyone but the one, always speak the truth unless it harmed someone else, and try to do right by others. Pretty sensible things, though a lot of it had been exercises in breathing and martial training and inner peace, which somewhat explained how he could handle crazy situations with focus.

His father had been a well known priest (and still was last he saw him) and his mother had been on the village council (again, still going strong), and while they had allowed Beren to be taught the ways of the Eru'Dai by Master Guan, a hermit who emigrated from Shi'Ran, they mostly wanted it for self-defense to keep him alive amongst the Southland frontier. When he had come of age, his mother had insisted he learn a trade and not go gallivanting out into the wilderness like he was want to do. His father had saved a Dwarf Captain's life years ago and decided to call up a favor to help Beren out and curb his mother's ire. For five years he was sent to live with the stout folk at Thundrim Kadrin, a great honor, where he learned smithing, and when his apprenticeship was over he came home and lived in a village two weeks from his parent's home, working as a smith until it was burned down by marauders one day. By the time he reached that part of the story, both he and Jocasta couldn't remember if he went further. The next thing they knew, the sun peeked through the windows of the room. Jocasta snuggled against Beren, her cheek against his bare chest and her curvaceous form curled up almost on his lap, with his arm around her. The embers in the fire were now low, and Beren had been the one to wake up first this time.

Gently, he lifted her up off of him, trying to ignore her impressive chest draped on his face for the moment it took for him to move her up and over, and he set her on the couch, covering her in the blanket. By the time she woke up, he was dressed, strapped with his armaments, with an apple in his mouth and some hot drinks and breakfast sausage and eggs in a plate for both of them to take their fill of.

Once their bellies were filled, they made their way out of the northern gate of town. They passed by morning workers, farmhands, errand boys, and folks going to get the early sales at the markets. The townhouses were all two storied, with no windows on the first floor. Made sense to Beren, who saw similar accommodations in the Southlands. It was just smart to make sure every home was defensible against attackers, both men and monsters. On the gates, the Dead Lions stood watch in their garbs of black, gazing at them suspiciously as they passed through the open archway.

Once they made it out of town, they trekked north. The woods were thick, but gnarled and mostly dead. Snow littered the ground, but some of it was melting due to the bright sun of the day. Beren walked with his staff out, taking in the scents of the morning. The air was frigid, but the sun felt nice and it would feel better at noon. Thankfully, it seemed like it would be one of the warmer days in recent memory.

"How far do you think it would be?" Jocasta asked him, pulling her coat closer to herself.

"Well, you'd think a statue would be well known. But these lands are so overgrown. We'll probably have to wait until we find an animal path. I doubt they would have left the payment anywhere someone could stumble on it." He reasoned.

Less than an hour later, they turned down a small deer path that Beren had spotted. They stepped lightly and warily, still knowledgeable there were a myriad of dangers in the marches, but the crunching snow and tangled brush were free of beasts and soon they found the statue at the edge of a few boulders and a broken tree.

Meldarion Dragonsbane. He looked larger than life in the morning sun shining on the carved stone. Beren stopped and gazed at the statue for a moment, examining the likeness. He wore his scalemail hauberk and long hair tied in a ferocious ponytail. They say his eyes were the fiercest one could ever look upon. They looked severe here, but he didn't think they could quite capture the feel of the real one. He still seemed formidable, however, standing there eight feet high with his two curved swords.

"It'll be just down this way," Jocasta told him, nudging him. Beren grinned, bumping his hip against hers. She did it back playfully and shared the grin.

"Lets get it, girly."

Maverick Malediction

Neil would have loved to bathe with Calliope, but instead he found himself cordoned off in his own section of the men's bath. He couldn't tell if he was away from the others because he was a foreigner or he was given special treatment, or perhaps he had paid more than usual. Either way, the water was hot and he let his muscles relax. Neil lay his head back and let it simmer, but unfortunately the water was colder at the edges, and he found himself constantly dragging himself back to the middle. Well, he supposed it kept people from falling asleep in the pool, which was smart.

Almost an hour later, he pulled himself out and walked back to the corridor he was bade to, the archway frames by statues of great serpents with manes like lion's. He stepped into the room he thought was where his clothes would be, but he was only half right. Four men wrapped in plain white and wearing turbans stood in there too, and Neil raised his eyebrow at them staring him standing there stark naked. His old clothes on the ground at the corner of the room, cleaned and neatly folded, as were his effects. To the right was a huge open door that led into a closet where stacks and stacks of clothes were placed, along with shoes and sandals on the floor.

"Eyes up here fellas." He told them, placing both his pointer and middle finger near his eye level. "Can I help you?"

"We will help you, master Edwards." The man furthest left said, giving a small bow.

Fifteen minutes later, with a lot of uncomfortable measurements and prodding, Neil stepped into the palatial room as Rashim was showcasing Calliope's outfit to the dark woman. Neil himself wore a coat of red, gold, yellow, and blue stripes with red at the center and encompassing the end of the wide sleeve. The coat covering a velvety, long-sleeved top a dark navy color, and he bore a gold sash belt. His trousers were a type of şalvar, baggy until ending at the ankle tightly, and his cleaned feet were in sandals. He looked quite good, though he felt slightly silly. He didn't think the same of Calliope.

"Selene help me," he said quietly, invoking the goddess of beauty when Calliope turned to look at him. Somehow the clothes fit her in both style, and fit her in form like a glove. She was certainly not Aradian, but her eyes were sharp and accentuated and she looked like someone who could barter the fate of cities with a promise of a kiss.

"Ah, the other is here!" Rashim said, clapping happily. He hustled over to Neil and pulled him closer to Calliope, letting him stand in the mirror with her. They looked like royalty to Neil, though it was likely an upper middle-class outfit or something wealthy merchants wore to impress true nobility. "I dare say the Seven Princes would be pleased, and I can see you are as well, yes?"

"Yeah, did a hell of a job." Neil replied, placing his hands on the inner edge of his jacket and turned around, admiring himself.

"The bath, the clothes, now the food! Now, we shall prepare. Close the door where the wind blows and we shall return shortly." He said, and ushered the other men out of the door with a quick snap of a word in his native tongue. They hustled out. Neil looked after them curiously, but Calliope decided to sit and lounge on the strange, square cushioned couch that surrounded the table on three sides. It was too short to sit on, so one lay on their hip to lazily eat.

"What was he talking about?"

"It means relax. An ancient proverb," She said, patting the cushion next to her. Neil sat down beside her, and looked up at the inverted ceiling with the patterns of flowers and designs.

"Fancy..."

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

Beren crossed his corded arms over his chest, but his thought process couldn't finish as Jocasta spoke. He tried to hide a smile but it failed.

"You're way too cute to be this clever," He told her and shook his head, as if the fact was more of an annoyance than anything. He wasn't agitated, of course, but he finally was able to hide his smile. The sleepiness helped. He knelt down and searched the man's pocket. He found three silver lordlings, which he gave to Jocasta, and a note with an unbroken seal.

"Oh let me see that," Jocasta said, holding her hand out. Beren gave that to her as well, and couldn't find anything else on the corpse except a dirk he kept in his sock, which Beren promptly placed on the desk beside the bed. Jocasta knelt by the body and took a limp arm in her hand, placing his thumb on the seal.

"What are you doing?" Beren asked.

"I had a friend who was in the Black Auction for a bit. He told me how some assassin guilds operated..." she said, and the letter opened as if by magic, just from the touch of the deadman's thumb. Beren didn't seem convinced, as this attacker, while tough, wasn't exactly the caliber of a dreaded assassin.

She opened up the letter, and nodded professionally, before turning it around so Beren might see. In the lamplight, Beren could see the entirety of the page, and it wasn't lost on him that there was nothing on it. He looked past the empty note at Jocasta. "Am I missing something girly?" He asked her, genuinely confused.

"Ooone second," she said, pressing the tip of her tongue on her pointer and then sliding it down Beren's chest swiftly, like one might strike a match. To his surprise, a flame did erupt on her fingertip from the contact. Beren's face flushed in surprise and she gave a wink. "Pretty hot yourself, apparently. Now hold on..."

She held the small flame up to the paper, just behind it. Three seconds came and went until gradually, script began to appear. Jocasta took a deep breathe and read it aloud.

"Once the Eru'Dai is dead, go to the third tree on the path past the statue of Meldarion north of town. Take your payment there, and leave his axe as proof." She reiterated, and then blinked in confusion. "Meldarion I know. The ancient hero. But what is Eru'Dai?"

"That's me. I'm an Eru'Dai," he admitted, and she looked at him quizzically. He shrugged his strong shoulders. "We're sort of a... well not a secret order, exactly. But there aren't many of us left. I don't know how they knew I was one, or how they knew I'm here. Whoever they are..."

"You'll have to tell me more about that later. But for now...we have a reward to get tomorrow."

"If it's not a trap." Beren said, putting his jacket on. He hadn't deigned to put his shirt on, giving him an almost vagabond look. Beren grabbed the corpse and lugged it over his shoulder like it weighed twenty pounds, not two hundred pounds. He carried it out into the hallway, Jocasta following behind. It took only a minute to find a sewer to dump him in, something Beren wasn't comfortable doing, even for an assassin trying to kill him. But he couldn't leave the town with the walls and the closed gates without being discovered and further questioned for the death of a man. Jocasta hugged herself, even wearing her layers, as the night wind whipped.

"Let's start a fire when we get back in," Beren told her, and then yawned. "I'll get back to sleep soon, but we should probably warm up first."

They made it back in, and once they went up the stairs and back in the room, Beren moved the couch and Jocasta started the fire, the crackling flame growing to life in the fireplace. Beren sat down on the couch, and he asked Jocasta to join him. Once she plopped down just beside him, he crossed his legs and arms, watching the flames. He seemed thoughtful, and it took almost a minute for him to start speaking.

"You're really fun. I like hanging out with you." He admitted, and let another few seconds go by as he considered his next words. "But if someone's coming after me, or if there's a mix up between the Master of the town and the Lions and I've pissed off the latter, I don't want you to get caught up in anything, either. So I'm giving you a chance to tell me to go, if you think it's safer. No hard feelings, nothing. Just do what you think is right for you, ok?"

He turned his face to hers, to see her reaction. "I'll just leave, if you tell me to."

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

Beren hadn't been dreaming. He'd been asleep like a log, not snoring but making soft sounds. Absently he shifted in his sleep while Jocasta fought for her life. He was just out of her reach until she was flipped and thrown to him, Beren's world came crashing back. Her knee into his chest was like the catalyst of a pendulum, and Beren swung his top half up, eyes wide for a moment before he blinked, scratching his head. He was shirtless and his thick dark hair was somewhat wild.

"What th- Jo?" He said hoarsely.

She grabbed his head with both of her hands and turned it at the assassin bearing down on them, having become wise to the charging objects and leaped over it's path. Beren saw the downward arc of the cudgel, and he pushed Jocasta and knelt backwards so the cudgel hit the frame of the couch. Beren lifted his legs and flipped backwards over the arm of the furniture and grabbed the couch pillow, as the attacker, his face carved like granite with hard eyes, pursued quickly. He tried to brain Beren and then go after his kidney, but each time Beren placed the pillow there as a shield, bouncing off but smarting if nothing else.

"Make it easy on yourself!" The assailant growled, punching Beren in the face. Normally Beren was very good at close combat, but he was so bewildered at having been woken up, he hadn't seen it coming and took it in the cheek. Beren stepped back from the blow, but unfortunately for the attacker, it had fully awaken the warrior. The next swing of the cudgel didn't hit his mark, Beren catching it mid-swing, simultaneously chopping the man's exposed neck with his free hand.

His hold of the cudgel weakened, he grabbed at this throat and stepped back, wheezing at the lack of air. That made two of them, because Beren still felt winded from Jocasta's knee. The assassin knew the situation was quickly deteriorating, and he decided looking for an exit was a good idea. Jocasta kept him from finding a way to leave, having gotten the last chair, holding it over her head (and this time from behind him) and smashing it against the man's exposed skull. Luckily it didn't kill him.

His fall where his neck hit the bedframe at the end of the bed did, breaking his neck and sending his head flopping at a weird angle as his body his the ground.

"Eugh," Jocasta and Beren remarked simultaneously. Outside there were raised voices, and lamps turned on. It slightly illuminated the room, casting some light on Beren. His body was heroically muscled but slim enough at the waist to perform his acrobatics, with very little fat on his caramel form. There was a large scar across his left pectoral and his broad shoulder on the right, and on his right arm looked like an old, faded snake bite or some other such creature.

"You ok?" He asked Jocasta as Bonnie, the Innkeeper, and another person hustled toward their door with oil lamps.

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

Beren did notice how extravagantly pretty Bonnie was, but whenever their was a dog in the room his eyes drew towards that instead. He always liked dogs. Loyal, loving, and helpful beasts. Truth be told he loved all animals, though he was still an eater of meat. There was something about a dog though that he gravitated towards, and they gravitated towards him as well. Before he could call to one to have them come over to pet, the woman spoke and finally that drew his attention. Both he and the dogs seemed to shudder at the sound, but he hid it well on his face when he turned to her.

Whereas Jocasta had an almost silken silver to her hair, Bonnie's hair was strawberry blonde. Bonnie's lips were soft pillows and her face was shaped like a statue's impeccable countenance, and Beren could see why this was a popular place if one could just look at her while they ate. He glanced to Jocasta, her face was more vixen-like, and the mischief in her eyes was endearing to him. Had he been most men, he would have had all manner of fantasies in his head of the two beautiful women speaking with himself almost sandwiched between them, but as it were he was far too hungry. Plus that simply wasn't his manner.

"Some water for me, and a loaded potato?" He asked hopefully.

"It's your lucky day, we still have a few potatoes from the coast that had been shipped up here. I'll see about getting some beef and cheese, but we're running out of pork and onions. Honestly if we hadn't gotten so little in the way of commerce and travelers this year, we'd have to tighten our belts for another three months." She explained conversationally. Beren wished she didn't. He was impressed at the grating, cat-choking voice that still erupted from her.

"Thanks, and do you take doubloons?" He wondered, brows raised. He produced three, watching her face.

"Yeah, sure." She said to his relief, and he handed them to her. Jocasta would know that amount roughly equaled an Andredian gold piece. "And for you?"

"Well so much for my order of pulled pork," Jocasta said with a helpless shrug.

"Honey, please." Beren said with a tongue-in-cheek roll of his eyes to play along.

She tapped her chin, looking around the room at a few of the dishes to see what was available. "Beef brisket and...what are those little berries?"

"Falta Berries. They're pretty good. Sort of like grapes and strawberries put together. They grow up here."

"Oh I'd like some too," Beren added.

"Don't worry, it'll be a good sized bowl. Ok sit in a corner, but it'll probably be a tight squeeze. Be there soon." She said, interrupted at the end by a call from a customer across the bar. She cried out "coming!" and it was physically painful to the ear. Beren and Jocasta hurried to their seat.

They passed by the mercenaries, a few of the wearing the black tabards of the Lions, but another four wore mix-and-match gear, showing they were freelancers. A few of them laughed and jeered, tossing cards and swigging drink while at least three seemed to be on the verge of violence with one another. As Beren passed them, he found he was near the mastiffs. He knelt down, not afraid to get bitten and let his hand out to get sniffed. The farmers chuckled, and the closest said. "Looks like old Gorman likes you." He said, petting the dog as he sniffed Beren's hand.

"Good fella," Beren whispered, giving the dogs a few pets as they took in a good few whiffs of his offered hand. It only took a moment, and he got up and followed in Jocasta's wake to their two person booth. Unfortunately, Beren wasn't the only one.

As they sat down at their little booth side-by-side, a man approached. One of the mercenaries, wearing a black tabard with the symbol of a Lion. He looked at Beren appraisingly and Jocasta with interest.

"Where you from?" He asked conversationally, placing one hand on the table. Alcohol covered his breath. Beren remembered what the guards had said, and he felt this was just shit luck.

"Varone," Jocasta replied quickly, placing a hand on Beren's arm to keep him from speaking. It was a good cover; far enough south to be truly foreign but well-known enough to still be recognizable. "We're just two travelers heading to Iskura."

"Really? Just two travelers?" He echoed, and to both of their surprise his eyes fell on Jocasta, or more specifically, her bosom. "So, you're not... together."

"I confess I'm a prized commodity," She said with a facetious smile, innocently batting her lashes. Beren had no idea what was going on. At first he was afraid of being connected to the caravan, but now this looked like a drunk man flirting. Was it both? He guessed so...

"Where's this from?" the mercenary asked, reaching down to the andernic torque that hung at the crest of her chest.

Beren casually grabbed his arm before it got to her. It had been easy, since he had to lean just by him to reach for Jocasta. The mercenary blinked and looked at him, amusement warring with annoyance.

"Look man," the merc said, almost overwhelming Beren with the poor breath that accompanied the miasma of alcohol. "I noticed her bottom passing me by, and now I see it's matched up top. Let me work here."

"Oh, pfft yeah of course. Is that all? Sure." Beren said, but didn't let go of his arm. In fact his grip tightened.

"If I were you, I would let go." The mercenary said, eyes flashing dangerously.

"If you were me, you'd actually be charming." Beren replied back without a beat.

The man, though drunk, reached quickly for something at his belt. Likely a knife. Beren's fist was quicker, snapping like a cobra-strike into his face. He made sure not to hit the nose so as not to bloody the table, and as the merc staggered back, Beren got up and followed. The merc caught himself and reacted with a swift punch to Beren's midsection. Beren raised his knee in a block, and then snapped his leg up to take the man under the chin. He stumbled back and hit a few of his 'friends,' who looked just as pissed at him for knocking over some drinks as they did at Beren.

The other two Lions stood up, one holding a crossbow (albeit not yet aimed) and the other with his hand on the hilt of his schiavona. Beren held up his hands, smiling guiltily. "Just want to drink alone fellas."

"Bastard!" The pervert said, taking out his thick bladed knife. Beren looked at the other two to see if they wanted to intervene, hopefully to stop him rather than help him to kill Beren. Just as the three began to move, Beren's meal, sleeping arrangements, and maybe life on the line, there was a strangled noise that curdled everyone's blood.

"Hey! Not in here!" Bonnie cried, walking up with two plates of food. How could someone so gorgeous sound like that? She glared at the lions, not giving them a piece of her mind but not backing down either. They looked at her and then to one another, the crossbowman stepping over to pat his perverted friend on the back. The freelance mercenaries watched and grinned, and began to drink again.

"Let's go." the crossbowman said, eyes flickering to Beren and then Bonnie before guiding his drunken friend and the third (who glared at them) away.

"Sorry," Beren apologized earnestly, sitting back down beside Jocasta. Bonnie watched them leave, and once they were gone she set the food, the berries, and drinks down before the two hungry adventurers. Their mouths immediately watered at the assault of smells from the food.

"Don't be. That was dumb of you, but I'm glad those assholes are gone." She said, and placed her hands on her shapely hips, smiling. "Wish my last boyfriend had the guts to do that for me. You'll get the wine on the house, let me know if you need anything else." She offered.

Beren laughed the compliment off, and thanked her before she walked away. He looked at Jocasta's, shrugging with a dramatic air about him. "Danger follows me wherever I go, tis a curse." He facetiously deigned to explain as if they were in a melodrama.

The Black Delta

The sand not shielded by their bodies was hot to the touch, but moving quickly or having the luxury of shoes helped. One had to be careful, for debris and flotsam still protruded out of the sand. Blood mingled with the water, and some of it had reached land, staining the beach. Strange birds flocked at the trees, feathers and beaks bearing colors that encompassed the entire rainbow. They watched and cawed at them like an audience at a praelian coliseum.

Captain Cole Burnside roused from his position, having heard voices. He looked and felt like hell, and he lifted himself just long enough to cough out a mouthful of sand before collapsing again. He groaned, but stayed still. His hat was missing, it lay by Jacqueline as she approached. Lachlan made it there first, however. His shadow above the Captain drew his attention, and Burnside blinked, looking up at him. It seems Aldrich's question had been answered, if non-verbally.

From across the way, another figure made their entrance. It was Holfort, one of the crewmen. Blood soaked his scalp, and his body held scratches and burns like the rest of the survivors. In his callused hands was a boarding pike that he used like a tall walking stick to support his weight. He bumped into Kjetil, who so far had been unlucky in finding anything to bandage himself with.

"The others are this way, we must get there. The Captain..." Holfort began, motioning for the Norgardian to follow.

Once everyone had congregated to the Captain, who now sat up and rubbed his head, he was able to address them, albeit slowly. So far it looked like these six had been the only survivors.

"Gods help me," The Captain cursed, his eyes moist. Not from crying, but the pain and exhaustion that took him. "That damned storm..."
Moving looked like it was a chore, but if they didn't go soon they would bake or be found by whatever beasts smelled the stench of carcasses cooking in the sun. Holfort asked if Captain Burnside was alright, but the Captain waved him off. "Don't worry about me. We should be...be two days sail to Darkwater. Damned we were so close! Maybe we could make it two days on foot if we cut through the jungle. If we follow the beach? I don't know. I don't...it's so hard to tell. Hells, we could be on an island, but I doubt it."

If one were to look across the beach and thoroughly search, a few items could be found:

• A broken boarding pike, half sized at close to 5 feet.
• A boarding axe embedded in a broken piece of hull.
• 2 water flasks. One filled with fresh water, the other filled with salt water.
• A chest. The Captain's chest. Locked and with no key.
• A rusted cutlass with no sheath.
• A carving knife in a knapsack.
• A map under some flotsam, ripped in half and faded.
• A bottle of rum.

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

"Oh no," He said with wide eyes when he saw the explosion had inadvertently caused a rumble up the hill, and not only were debris falling around them, but the snow had been displaced. Slowly, it tranformed from hail to an avalanche. As it approached, Jocasta finally noticed, her mouth making an 'O'. Beren had seen one once at Thundrim Kadrin, but from far off and out of its path. This one was much like the other. It was hundreds of tons of snow, wood, leaves, and now masonry and other debris.

"Maybe I spoke a bit too soon," She admitted guiltily.

Beren scooped her up in his arms, causing her to suck in her breathe by the sudden feeling of iron-corded arms holding to a broad chest, the adrenaline of the situation adding to it. He started to run away toward the tree line, though there were only a few copses of pine and coniferous trees here or there. Beren was a fast runner and he moved like a dwarven steam train, but he wasn't fast enough. Jocasta watched the avalanche from over his shoulder with wide eyes as it caught up to them, at the crest of the 'wave' was a log spearing at them. She closed her eyes, and suddenly felt weightless. She had thought she was dead, but soon she found gravity again, and the intense rumbling was all around them.

Jocasta opened her eyes to see Beren precariously atop the log, surfing the snow. Well, surfing implied finesse. It was impressive he had leaped atop it, and it was clear he had a lot of acrobatic training. But he swayed this way and that and didn't seem all too convinced they would stay up, though his dark eyes were steeled.

"Are you sure this will work!?" She asked him above the din

"No," he said.

They passed over some crags and brush, demolishing the landscape in their path. Beren re-positioned his front foot, but it nearly cost them their perch on the bucking log. For a moment they seemed ok, racing past a copse of trees and a bend in the earth, but soon they saw they were in a path that fed directly towards a large oak. Beren tried to manuever his weight, but it wasn't working. Jocasta screamed and Beren's heart thundered in his chest.

"Hold on to me!" He told her, and she did so instinctively as Beren leaped from the log moments before it smashed into the tree and broke in half, the man making a desperate reach for a lower branch. In the second it took for him to sail through the air, time seemed to stop. But all at once reality came crashing back, and he caught the branch in his hands.

The very land itself flowed under them like a river, and they hung there for the next ten minutes until the Marches slowed and were spent, almost as if it were bored with the avalanche itself.

"Wow." She said. Her arms around his neck, she was very close to him. He hadn't noticed, but to keep herself clinging she had wrapped her legs around him, their chests pressed together. Beren's face, once stern with purpose, was now reddened at the close proximity. She smiled brightly. "This is a good date."

"We should probably get to town," he said, his usually deep voice cracking.

---

The next day...

They were cold and slightly tired, but they were alive. They were even clean, one of the rivers that flowed out of the mountain was naturally heated, likely from some hidden reservoir of magma beneath. There was an abundance of fish in it, and they caught some, drank the water, and one bathed while the other stood watch. They stayed there that night and continued forward to Helmguart the next day.

The township was guarded by a stout wall of stone, just ten feet high but wide enough for two men to comfortably walk abreast. The gates were open, but crossbowmen in kettle-helms stood above it and along the walls, obviously vigilant from the sounds of battle the other day just a few days travel from there. It was hard to see the wall from the trees, as the wood was thick about it. But they had found the trail again, and made it mid-afternoon that day.

The guards looked strange. Some of them wore brigandines or chainmail, but most of them you couldn't tell their armor, as they wore black tabards and cloaks with the symbol of the lion. Beren didn't recognize the sigil, but Jocasta likely would. They were the Mortus Leo; The Dead Lions. A mercenary group made famous for its wars in the Seven Cities along the Blood Coast. What they were doing here was a mystery, but it likely had something to do with their latest military disaster near the pirate haven of Balcet, where the Basilean army had overrun their position. It was one of the many rumors that had passed through Andred before the winter had pummeled the nation into submission.

The buildings were made of sturdy timber and mountain stone, most of the roofs had wooden frames and made thatched, though a few had slate tiles. Laborers, errands-men, mercers, fuellers, smiths, bakers, and the general citizenry walked about as if nothing was off, though most gave the roving bands of Black Lions a wide berth, and there were at least two of the mercenaries at nearly every corner of the roads. Every mercenary bore a wing-tipped spear or a crossbow, though all of them had a schiavona sword sheathed at their hips. While Beren didn't know of them, he knew there couldn't be many even if he saw them in most direction, as the town wasn't very big by most northerners. If Beren had remembered from his conversation with the merchant Bonraffen, there wasn't more than four thousand citizens here. A rough mining and logging town, kept alive by merchants traveling from Torm's Gate to Iskura.

After passing down one street, a guard stopped them. Not one of the Lions, or at least he didn't wear their crest. He had a thick goatee and sported a messer at his hip, but he had on a sigil at his sleeve that looked like a bascinet helmet.

"I saw you enter the gate. Might I ask your names and your business?" He inquired brusquely, as a watchmen or sentry might do. Beren and Jocasta glanced at one another, both looking a bit weary at being stopped before they could walk into a warm inn, but they shrugged as they also had nothing to hide.

"I'm Beren, this is Jocasta. We're chance travelers. We were apart of a caravan coming from the Dragonback, but we were attacked by Orcs and... and the dead. And more things I dare not name except in private. We were the only survivors that we know of, but now-"

The guard made a baffled noise and held up a hand. "You were in a caravan meant for here?"

"Yes, to pass through to Iskura."

The guard turned and bade them wait, before he jogged off to the next street for a brief minute. Jocasta hugged herself and groaned, simmering with annoyance that the guard couldn't talk to them somewhere warm. There was no snow about them, but the temperature was still easily below freezing. Beren felt her pain and nodded. He was usually fun or stoic, switching between the two when needed. But he was just about ready to complain as well. Soon the watchman came back with a companion, similarly dressed.

"Thank you for waiting," the first man said apologetically.

"How long had you been on the road?" The second one asked.

"Almost two weeks. But we're really tired, sir." Beren said.

"And how did you two surv-"

"Can you boys point us to the nearest inn?" Jo pipped up before further questions were tossed at them. The two guards regarded her question, and then looked at one another. The second one nodded, and the first took his hat off in apology.

"Aye, yes. The Crimson Wyvern is just north of here, two streets away. Tell Bonnie that Melve sent you. But before you go, I will let you know tomorrow the master of Helmguart might call on you. I advise you to not tell any black-clad man who you are or where you come from, for your own safety as well as that of the town."

"Ok," Beren said, not wanting to be rude but not really understanding the situation. They were both dismissed and allowed to go, and when they exited the guard's company, Jocasta smiled at Beren and held up an ancient coin with a wink. "How many rounds do you think this will get me?"

"I've got money," he assured her with a laugh, knowing she was also joking. "I'm just getting water myself anyway. I'm more hungry than anything."

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

Beren watched her talk and even though it wasn't too farfetched of an explanation, he found he was pleasantly surprised. She was kind of cute talking about her interests, as well. He wished he had been able to get some sort of diploma or certification from a university, but his old master had always told him it was a worthless piece of paper and wisdom was valuable in and of itself. He was right of course, but it still kept him from gaining access to certain libraries up north. Not the marches, but the north in general. He still had to remind himself not to call Andred and Vrettonia and the kingdoms south of the Dragonback 'The North' up here. But to him, it was all pretty far above where he had been born.

"Most people I meet tend not to have goals, much less auspicious ones." He admitted with a smile. "That's actually pretty cool."

The warmth of the fire and the fine talk (coupled with his tiredness) were relaxing, and Beren found himself loosening up. "I promised an old friend I would deliver an item to a tomb. Not one like the tombs we've seen. It's in a mountain further north, near the Frostfalls. At least that's what I'm told."

"Deliver something to a tomb?" She asked, somewhat incredulously.

"Uh..." He started, and decided it didn't harm anything to tell her. "Well he's a Dwarf and I gave him my word. He couldn't come with me. He had other obligations."

"You're a Dwarf-Friend then... like actually one." She reasoned, as impressed with him as he was with her. Dwarves weren't the rarest creature, but they were the oldest race on the planet and keepers of many secrets. The mere fact Beren knew any of the language was something even the old greybeards in the academies would be taken aback by, not to mention they would pay handsomely to find out some of his knowledge.

"I am," he chuckled, somewhat embarrassed himself. He leaned back and reached behind him to pull out the axe she had seen him hold earlier. It did not look like more than a simple, battle-worthy hand-axe earlier. He handed it to her. The haft was slightly less than a meter long and finely made, wrapped in crimson leather over what seemed to be steel coating over stout wood. Along its back was a thread embroidered with gold coloring. The axe had a bearded blade, carved in the shape of a Dragon's maw, and a stout but sharp spike at its back. Most impressively, the blade was made of Baldr. An exceedingly rare metal, though not quite as valuable as Valdium for certain items that required more finesse and magic. It was a metal only the Dwarves knew how to shape, and it was the most durable metal known on the planet. Along its head were runes, though it didn't seem like they provided any real enchantments to the item.

"When we get out of here, we should get to Helmguart as soon as possible," He said as he let her look the item over. "After that, I'll be going to Iskura next, unless you need help doing something else?"

They hadn't exactly made a partnership, but he did want to give her a chance if she wanted him to tag along somewhere. Maybe it was just him giving an excuse to hang around the woman, but either way. He was the wandering type, so he was used to meeting and then leaving if it came to it.