Noctis
wintersoldier
Izurich
sandstorm
AlfhedilAemoten
The squire physically attempted to shrink when he mentioned the frustration, anger, and even violent tendencies most of them doubtlessly harbored after this entire ... spectacularly poor run of luck which could easily make one believe the entirety of Reniam held a very personal grudge against them.
Moreover, the young nightwalker was actually trembling - something that Aemoten could not help but be aware of, as he was still in large part using the other for support. The foreign warrior suspected it was for reasons other than physical struggle or the ambient low temperature.
“I’m sorry,” Jaelnec uttered, and though the young nightwalker obviously could not not see it for studying a patch of ground before his feet, Aemoten actually raised an eyebrow at him as he was trying to read his expression.
Not fear, was it? Jaelnec did not fear some kind of punishment from him, did he? Shame? Admission of guilt - even if it was one they all shared? Jaelnec had merely voiced what had doubtlessly crossed the minds of most of them - he knew the truth about himself, and Thaler's actions as she untangled herself from this Angora had spoken a language that was clearer than words.
The foreign warrior had to admit that being the leader, the one who made the decisions was inevitably a socially unfavorable position - and one with the heft of all the rulings made. At the top, you're alone... Unless a decision was unanimous, you had to overrule someone - in some instances, even everyone. Some duties were beyond the interactions between a handful of people. You did not sacrifice the entire world for but a few.
The warrior had to be a harsh individual where the human man yielded to emotion. The warrior had had to protect the world, the human man could not bear the thought of losing what was dearest to him. Not a pleasant combination to experience - from inside or out.
He tended to be a pessimist on the best of days, had been throw amid everything after years of fairly peaceful life, and atop of everything was, by nature, a relatively passionate individual. Easily angered, principial, and stubborn to top it off. It was all kept in check by sheer willpower, and Koraakan knew it had long been on the way of becoming a scarce commodity. Whatever his feelings told him, for the most part his rational mind - the warrior's mind - kept censoring it. The result was probably that or a cold, goal-oriented man. Lack of emotion was an easier facade to uphold than a different set of emotions, and where hope died, mechanical functions lived on. Set target. Figure out a way to reach target. Repeat. It was not healthy, it alienated people, but for a while it worked. Out of some manner of momentum or inertia of normalcy... It could not continue indefinitely. He, of all people, ought to know the importance of morale and restoration of will... It was as he had said, earlier: conviction all will only carry a person so far. It was intricate, balancing between taking care of people, yourself among them, and taking care of goals. Broken men did not save worlds.
Do not fall apart. No not let anyone else fall apart. Get things done. And amid all, somehow manage not to neglect those without whom you would have not had an ounce of a change of getting even this far. It was all too easy to fall into having those who were still able run all the errands and take all the risks - and run them down in the process, too. Even if they were your friends and loved ones. And you could not carry any more yourself, either, for the imminent threat of collapsing for good yourself.
At the end of the day, they had probably each seen the worst of the worst the rest had to offer - and if they all found one another worthy of each others' presence even at their lowest, then anything less should be endurable, should it not? At least there was that.
"It's always about those fighting beside you, and those back home ... hardly ever those you face," the foreign warrior further mused as he looked up once more. "The warriors' right included that of opting out, but with that option came the knowledge that, far more likely than not, the others would still be fighting for you, and should they fall, the fight would come to you regardless, however then there would be none to fight beside you..."
There was not a hint of anger in Aemoten's voice, just tired thoughtfulness.
"'Us' and 'them' is an easy distinction to make ... a necessary one, even. But on the other hand, perhaps less so for monster-hunters and keepers of order, but definitely for warriors and perhaps traditional knights, 'them' is no different from 'us'. Many of them are good men and women, brought there by duty; who were to take pride in having killed them would be halfway to becoming a monster oneself. Not even monsters should be killed for fame, only so they cannot harm another. While we may be honorable, what we do is not always... 'There is neither honor in killing nor glory in war'."
Pause.
"But, yes... Anger. Born from futility, it seeks to take control by means of force instead, impeding the ability to make unbiased decisions - eliminate, subjugate, doesn't matter to anger, as long as it deals with whatever incurred said wrath. In many ways, it's the violent cousin of fear, as the latter, too, is born from lack of control.
I don't think it is ever possible to get entirely rid of anger - or fear -, especially if the world keeps throwing things at us, but it can be kept from manifesting in unfortunate manners as long as there is enough willpower to suppress it. One has to also learn to recognize when their thoughts are rational, and when they're influenced by something. To stop and analyze, to understand the why of one's own standpoint before carrying it over to others. To know your limits and realize when you're close to snapping and step away - in mind or body. Or both. Learn to let go.
When I said I expect most of us to carry substantial quantities of anger or frustration within, and having these feelings surface more easily than normally due to us getting no rest, I meant it - not even I am exempt from that." The last part of the sentence was said in an unusually heavy tone. It would have taken a very specific kind of heartless individual to see Thaler getting roughed up by someone after all she had already been through and not care. Not that he would ever want her - or any of them - hurt... "All of us, besides, perhaps, Olan. I think that man is physically incapable of staying angry for extended periods of time. I suspect we don't appreciate that quality of his nearly enough..."
He was silent for a while as Jaelnec relayed as much as knew or was willing to spare about his and ... Roct's interactions.
Roct? So she had finally decided to part with a name for herself ... he had heard it before, had he not? That same day... It was the same as the sword's, was it not? Had to be... So someone must have known. Jaelnec's late master had most likely known - but neglected to relay the necessary tidbits before perishing.
What Jaelnec said was concerning, though ... even though what he said also seemed to sport the theory that Roct was not deliberately malevolent, or at least was not ill-intentful towards Jaelnec specifically.
"There are three or four different things which I see as being of concern - one is the diffusion of your person with hers, another is you being taken choice and awareness from you while permitting the use of your body for whatever she sees fit, regardless of whether you or I'd ever agree to what she goes for, and lastly, whenever she does any of it - possibly to a very small extent when she just speaks to you -, she weakens you to all other mental attacks and also damages whatever parts of your mind she shuts down or overrides," Aemoten attempted to summarize, "and said, those changes are probably very small and not noticeable at first, but will accumulate over time. Of course, there is also a difference between just talking to her, and her going in and just knocking you out when you momentarily let your guard down."
The foreign warrior glanced at Jaelnec.
"I suspect she never possessed Freagon, or at least did not do so during the time you traveled with him ... it was rather jarring and visible, you'd have noticed. I wouldn't also surprised if he cut her off altogether after a while, just to protect himself ... calming yourself down is something you have to learn to do yourself, especially since she did not appear to have more than very marginal control over her own impulses and not much more over not reacting impulsively upon your emotions in addition, so I wouldn't be surprised she's trying to calm you down in part to avoid being overwhelmed by your emotions in turn ... add to that that she is weakening your control a very small way when she interacts with you or through you, and combined that is liable to veer down the wrong path sooner or later.
It probably doesn't do much harm if she just talks to you every now and then - that's something I figure you'd fairly easily recover quicker than be wear down from, under normal circumstances, at least, less so when everything is bent on putting us to test or you're already under duress -, but it would definitely be better if she never, well, just overpowered your entire being with brute force as she sees fit. Again. No matter how 'necessary' she deems it. It's one thing to willingly sacrifice some of your own mental or physical wellbeing to save someone you care about, or to do so as a last resort when you know you'd definitely die otherwise, but another to have some of it arbitrarily taken from you. And then there is this little matter of her trying to attack someone you hadn't agreed to attacking, using your body no less ... things like that, I figure you'd agree she shouldn't be permitted to do, either.
If she can strictly adhere to those things, at least, it probably isn't necessary to get rid of her, even if it were ultimately preferable that she lived in something other than your sword. There'd remain the risk she'll decide to ignore whatever limitations you set her at an unfavorable moment, perhaps even so that her-in-your-body would have to be intercepted ... it's a matter of how much you're willing to risk either that or very slowly becoming something that is in many ways both her and you. Does that make sense?"
He paused for a further moment, absently rubbing the side of his nose with his free hand.
"Should I talk to her, though... I am already weakened; if I were to try myself here and now, there is a high chance I'd just end up collapsing on the spot - I'm not willing to try and see whether I'm correct. Through you, as you suggested earlier ... not by letting her possess you, but by you repeating what she thinks ... perhaps, if you figure it'd help set things straight."
Jaelnec expressed his concern over his, Thaler's and Etakar's safety, should they go ahead without Jaelnec. Aemoten pondered for a moment.
"None of us three is at our best, that is true ... myself and Thaler more so than Etakar. Etakar should be mostly good to go, now, thanks to our new acquaintance... Aside of him being fast and capable of tracking, I mostly figured not many would be willing to start a fight with him by virtue of him being a dekkun alone, and if we happen to encounter someone wants to start something ... then he's still almost as dangerous as he would be when at full health.
I would rather Thaler was reached as soon as possible and that no one of us was at greater risk than the others ... do you reckon Olan would be as safe with these three alone as I and Thaler would be with Etakar?"
Would it be possible for all of them ride to Zerul City? If Etakar, the paladin's horse and the donkey were to each carry two people, perhaps...
Domhnall McRaith
"The ... ye can 'ell 'em wha' tae do?" he inquired when Angora explained them that the entity - whatever the thing in her was exactly supposed to be - was now under her control rather than vice versa. "Can ye tell 'em tae put ou' the blas'ed ... aura or influence or wha's it?" He soon added, remembering the old fellow's request. "Would be bes' tae not have passersby in the city wonderin' why they feel like they'd downed a pint too many..."
That said, he glanced at Iridiel again, before switching to his native, "It's not gone, but she says it's ... pacified? Like it were a ally; she doesn't think she'd be losing control again. And, uh ... she is thanking us in all possible ways, and wishes to come with us and help, as she now owes us her life ... y'know, for taking the effort to help her, rather than just kill her, as would have been easier. Wants to repay for the horrible things she did while not in control, too."
He shifted his eyes back to Angora, some part of him reaching the slightly uncomfortable conclusion that with the departure of the warror-fellow and his squire - whatever it was they so desperately needed to discuss right there and then, in the middle of Angora's releasing -, both Olan and Angora seemed to look overwhelmingly at him for words of decision. Of course, he was the main speaker of the two of them, and Iridiel was not exactly fluent in Rodorian, so it was probably nothing but the logical thing to do, but it nevertheless felt like he was speaking in the name of at least one person too many... And what he was saying now was in the name of more people too many.
"'twas the decen' thing tae do. 'twas no' really ye who a'acked us, aye?"
Olan interjected, insisting that Angora was rushing things by promising them her life before she even got to know them and their quest, looking at his direction in addition. He suddenly also realized he and his companion had never been properly introduced.
"The younger black-eyes already told me mos'," he pointed out. And true, as soon they had settled down, they had been attacked by someone, so perhaps there was some truth to the insistence that they had horrible luck with encounters. Then again... On a sudden thought, he raised his arm and flicked his wrist to point a thumb in the dead and mutilated gray brute's direction. "Bu' this one, that we found en'irely on our own, no thanks tae y'all. How can ye claim it's only yer luck tha' brings all the beas'ies out jus' as we appear tae have found the firs' of our own? Bes' stick toge'her les' we end up lacking the know-how once we meet an even bigger one." He grinned. "'Sides, my companion here's informed me tha' good old Sulis herself has reques'ed we go with ye..."
That said, he leaned closer to Iridiel again.
"He says their quest is dangerous and we might want to consider whether we really want to go with them ... but safety in numbers, yes? Who's to say we're not going to meet bigger things than the gray brute, or a lot of 'em Crusaders. And you did say Sulis wanted us to go with them, yes?"
He had already managed to forget the introductions...
"I'm Domhnall, and this is Iridiel, by the way," he quickly went to amend it before he could forget that little piece of mandatory social interaction again. "If ye really wan' tae go with 'em ... or come with us, as it migh' be, I'd think you need tae talk tae the tall warrior-looking fellow when ye ge' the chance, he's the leader of the lot, they said." Well, it definitely ain't me... "Tha's the one called Aemoten, I believe."
Angora had meanwhile had the time to assess her own appearance, and embarrassedly made an observation over it. She also mentioned she might be able to locate them a stream. If she had been a respectable citizen before ... everything, then doubtlessly showing herself through the gates in her current condition would probably be quite shameful...
"We'd need tae heat the wa'er in the cauldron or something, then, I think," he muttered, scratching his cheek. It was not a warm autumn morning. He noticed her motioning at him and Iridiel. "She says she could find us a stream?" the forestfolk noted to his highland companion, in a slightly confused tone. "She says she knows some nearby..."