Shienvien

The Prophecy

Quite oppositely - I specifically said that I intend to make him a native Rodorian in this version, and did so here in OoC, rather than over Skype (although I later added a bit over my doubts on where to put him - because unlike Aemoten, he has family and some status - and power levels and such on Skype). :-P

I guess my next course would be write up a character sheet for one Yanin Glade (derivative of Janin Galeid, who is actually from the same world as Aemoten, and even met him; he'd essentially be his own Rodorian equivalent) and plop him down some bar in Zerul City. Probably whatever one the rest of the Zerul City bunch is.

@Shienvien

The Prophecy

What now? Timeskip to next morning? Would I just be writing another time-skip for Aemoten come then? Should I just post what I have of Yanin (and co's - comes with two horses and a squire), and edit some background info in later (as noted ... not sure where his family grounds are supposed to be) - I assume he'd just be wherever needed whenever posting-time comes? I reckon it's you next with where Dom, Iri, Jaelnec and Olan are (don't forget to dump Claw off somewhere near Zerul City when they come to timeskip)?

The Prophecy

@Mercinus3 Aah, well that happens. (It has been showing you as online, so ... cyberdemons?) Good to know we're good.

The Prophecy

There, posted ... began filling out Yanin's CS, too, though there are a couple of things we should probably discuss before I can finish it (see Skype).

The Prophecy

Domhnall and Angora

The forestfolk watched idly as the strange woman wandered over to her old garments, muttering to herself and poking at them, eventually picking them up and coming over to spread them out by the fireside, over the pile of backup firewood. Good thinking. In this weather, anything left to dry on the ground would probably only get wetter, even if it recently came from water.
His eyes followed her as she took seat again, but for the time being let the black-eyes do the talking. Currently, most it entailed was an introduction of himelf.
Angora listened closely to the... human-ish person. She'd heard tales of those not-quite-human, but never actually met one in the flesh... Her curiosity and excitement at this strange new encounter was nevertheless tempered by her trepidation at these new people's reaction to her. She was lucky, really - she'd admitted to a lot of criminal activity, and she was especially lucky they were willing to overlook that at the least. Would it stop her? No. Would it grease a few things in Zerul itself to go more smoothly? They wouldn't know ... and what they don't know wouldn't hurt them-
No. Angora stopped herself. That line of thinking had already gotten her into trouble with these people. Best not to try her luck.
When the young black-eyes went to insist Angora left her "life of crime" behind, though (naive as it sounded to Domhnall's ears, befitting the boy's youthful face which betrayed he probably did not even need to shave to stay as clear-faces as he was)...
"That's like telling a blacksmith that he can no longer work with metal goods because the noise hurts your ears." Angora shook her head. "Look, I get it. You don't like the idea of travelling with, working with, whatever you want to call it, a criminal. Someone like me. But I can't just drop all of that in a single move - it'd be like... er, I don't know, telling you that you can't use a sword anymore."
She sighed and rubbed her eyes, the strain of her previous activities having finally caught up with her - adrenaline really is a hell of a drug, as they say.
"I can't promise that. But I can promise to try and abstain from that kind of thing whilst I am in your company. Outside of that ... well, let's just say your private life is yours, and mine is mine. Besides, sometimes a bit of blutgild in the right hands can go a long way in keeping ... other people out of trouble."
She sighed and poked at her clothes again. Not exactly dry, but they weren't sodden as before. "Oh, hurry up already. I'm bloody freezing here... Almost wish the spirit was back - I didn't feel the cold then."
She didn't feel cold then? But it was this close to the ground being frosted over... Domhnall's free hand (the one which was not placed on Iridiel's shoulder) went to absently scratch his bearded cheek again. On one hand, crime was wont to get one in trouble sooner or later ... on the other, there probably were old acquaintances who already were trouble...
"..." Angora looked at the green-and-brown man. His speech was very... shall we say, interesting. "What kind of people were in the convoy? Well... err..." Angora sighed. "They were penin... small, stocky folk, almost like angry dwarfs. But a lot of my work had already been done by the time I got there... I think. I don't remember much to be honest, leastways not immediately before I took hold of the sword. Though a lot of them were fighting each other before I arrived, that much I do remember. Almost like the sword was turning them against each other. Probably our old friend the spirit's doing." Angora giggled and looked at the Black Sword. "Yes, I'm talking to you."
Almost in response - or perhaps very much in response - the sword began to glow, intricately inscribed runes previously unseen on the surface now visible to the naked eye. Angora gaped - she had no idea what any of them meant of course, but... it was so pretty!
Snapping herself back to attention briefly, she glanced back over to the... not-quite-entirely-human-thing. "No. The sword is mine. And anyone who wants it will have to prise it from my cold, dead hands."
Domhnall dropped his hand from his cheek, awkwardly hung it in the air for a bit, as if unsure what to do with it, then clasped his knee, for a good measure. The former savage's attitude towards the spirit had ... certainly changed quickly, it appeared. From pleading them to help to, well, this. Her voice further held the remnants of the strange, hair-raising echo that likened her to the inhuman. She might also have misunderstood a bit of what he was meaning to ask, owing to his accent coming through unusually strong. He had been too deep in thought to pay much attention.
"An' ... before that? In the Zerul Ci'y?"
"Oh. Oh!" Angora nodded. "Well, some people would probably call me just a common killer. You know the ones you always hear about, the rapists and murderers who quite frankly are the kind of people that, well, I deal with. Y'see, my line of work, because it is work, despite it working on the wrong side of the law, is to deal with people like that." Angora reached over and took hold of the sword, placing it on her lap over the cloak that the other foreign person had kindly lent or given or whatever to her.
"It's true. I kill people for a living. But I'm no common thug. I'm what they call a contract killer. People who displease the people on high need to be dealt with before they bring the law down on our business, y'see? Usually I'll have to deal with drug dealers, rapists, child murderers, you know the types, the real scum of the streets and the sewers. But occasionally, we have to deal with rats. That's our word for informers, people who rat us out to the law. Who try to play both sides, you know? That isn't tolerated. When you work for the Firm... you swear an oath. You conduct yourself with dignitas, with honour, no matter what. You don't steal. You don't fuck with the higher-ups. And don't ever, and I mean ever work with the government to take us down. Because then you'll have a visit from someone like me. And make no mistake, you die that night. Might die satisfied but you'll die. The best way to deal with a man - and it's always men, I swear - is to appeal to what they really want. And you know what men really want most of the time. Which then makes them vulnerable. Can't defend yourself with nothing, you know?"
For once (again), Domhnall did not react immediately, and glanced towards the two black-eyes's to see their reaction. This was not truly the kind of affairs he was too familiar with, being originally from near a rather small town - one which did not facilitate having its own secret underground and organizations and whatsit's -, and then mostly only visiting larger places to barter and visit a bar or an inn... People did not usually send an assasin seductress after you because they thought five animal pelts should cost a rodlin less than you asked for. (Not that he actually overcharged; people were just always trying to haggle things down to the cheapest they could get.) And, by the sound of it, the people she had been dealing with had not exactly been merchants at the marketplace who you thought asked prices for their hard-earned wares that were just sightly too high, either...

The Prophecy

Aemoten

It was not long after the tree Thaler had been leaning against disappeared from sight that the quad of them fell quiet, and Aemoten was left to his own thoughts.
Etakar was hardly much of a conversationalist during travel - not only was his throat not compatible with human speech, but his hands were very much preoccupied, detracting from the distance left to Zerul City one long measured stride at a time. Though, to be fair, Etakar hardly struck as the type of personality who would be much of a gabber even if he were to have the kind of voice suitable for speaking. He was at once much more wont to observe and analyze others than to partake in gossip, and too laid-back to bother with non-crucial affairs (if not, indeed, seeing himself as above petty squabbling). That was not to say he could not be resourceful, or lacked the ability to express himself. Quite oppositely, if he wanted you to know his opinion on something, you knew. It was thus not usually due to lack of ability that Etakar used his literacy sparingly, but due to a lack of necessity - the noble beast did few things that were superfluous. Right now, he was fully intent on getting them all where they were supposed to be.
And then there was the one of them who had up to a few hours ago been their newest companion. The raven, who was still seemingly distrustful of them, watching them with her remaining good eye, beak (that she was not shy of putting to use) slightly ajar in a manner that gave her an expression of nigh human bafflement and uncertainty over the situation. All in all, she did not seem overly pleased. It was hard - if not impossible - to tell how much of her current attitude was due to losing her companion, eye and (though hopefully temporarily) power of flight, physical pain, the whole mess of today and being carried along by nigh strangers where she had formerly had free reign, and how much of it was, perhaps, her simply being a grump by nature. Don't worry - it would appear that we are all broken here, the human man mentally noted at the bird, you'll fit right in.
Ravens were somewhat uncommon as companions; they were not nearly as inherently social as crows, and thus mainly tended to regard the humans they stuck with as either their parents or - as was more common with adult ravens, who tended to drift away from blood relations as they aged - their mates. A raven was thus more likely to be an one-person-bird, whereas a crow could get along with whoever they trusted and had taken a liking to, and introduce their spouse to you while they were at it. Either could learn some speech, if so inclined, but as their voices were more a tool for conveying messages than an instrument of art, and they tended to be not particularly motivated by routine treats, they usually did not bother to invest much in the language you wanted them to learn. Curiously, though, crows were among the few animals who used currencies with no obvious function aside of peculiarity and prettiness, both among themselves and even with humans. If their new acquaintance could speak, though, she was yet to demonstrate it. In his presence, anyway - Thaler had called her Beatrice, though Aemoten was unsure whether it was something she had named the bird on her own accord, or whether she had managed to get it from the bird herself when he wasn't there to see it. (Nor, for the matter, did he know how she had figured the bird was a she ... male and female ravens looked exactly the same to him.)
Whatever the case, it nevertheless seemed likely that whatever fate had brought her and her late companion together would forever remain an unknown. For some reason, given his choice of companion creature and his physical disfigurement, Aemoten felt that he had been quite the lonely individual with a difficult past...
Had his demise really been just yesterday? It felt as though it existed in another time than the evening in the inn, when everything, for once, was going well for them. Koraakan knew that even the early hours before after that, when he had felt rested and in high spirits, preparing to reach Zerul City by noon, that even those belonged to another era. He had probably lost his calm a couple of times, afterwards. Said a few things he would not have if the entire thrice-cursed world had not suddenly turned against them. How many men would have fared better, if suddenly finding themselves trying to, at once, save the world, their beloved, and one's place in life, against one of the most powerful beings in existence, and having less than a day to do so? Did it even matter, anymore? They were alive, somehow, even if at least one of them had, if briefly, wished she were not.
He had been dead, long ago - before he was resurrected as immortal, and what killed others began to only result in a form of stasis followed by slow and exceedingly unpleasant recovery. Nevertheless, he knew what being dead - dying the good death - was like. It was a nightmare. Quite literally so. It was a lot like a dream, one in which you were acutely aware that you were in a dream, aware of just how wrong everything around you, and even you yourself, were. He could conjure whatever objects he desired out of thin air ... food, furniture, tools, it did not matter. But they tasted wrong. Felt wrong. Not real. Incomplete. Off. And if he stopped paying attention, they would likely just vanish. Nothing was permanent. Nothing mattered. He was but a ghost in a fake body shaped after what he though he had been like, interacting with a false simulacrum of reality. Some of the other ghosts even made up fake routines for themselves, did fake work for fake results instead of just conjuring the fake fruits of their labor outright, just to pretend that they were still ... consequential, that their actions had a point. It was, one could deduct, not a plane ever meant for mortals, and over prolonged stay probably induced a form of insanity, a desperate self-deception as a coping mechanism in one's yearning for reality.
He had not feared death as a mortal; he had looked his killer in the eye, knowing that it was the end, knowing there was nothing left in him to do anything against it, and merely resigned himself to the inevitable. Being dead, though, the sense of futility and wrongness it entailed, he had hated. Was hell really that much worse, he wondered? It was so stated that there would have been demons hunting him for sport, but it was not like he could truly die again, and getting back at the damn bastards would at the very least have given one some kind of actual purpose.
Maybe he would have eventually gotten used to that odd, false world of inconsequentialness - in a few thousand ... thousand years, when he had entirely forgotten what being alive was like, perhaps -, but as it were, he did not know how much a person would have to suffer to prefer to die. Or, at least, think one preferred to die. People occasionally recalled meeting the Wanderer, but to come back, as he had? Very few, he presumed. Not one in ten million. And even he did not think he could actually convey how wrong being dead had felt to his mortal mind. Somewhat morbidly - if it indeed so was that the Withering destroyed souls - it occurred to him that perhaps the nonexistence provided by it would have been better for the dead, were it not untimely.
The Sekalyins usually buried their dead - and even many a fallen foe, if they believed them generally honorable - under the trees. As such, Aemoten was well familiar with living forests, and would not hurt an old tree if he could. Oppositely, burning someone was the worst "burial" you could give one - something reserved strictly for people and beings so atrocious and abhorrent they and their memories needed to be erased from existence entirely, just in case their lingering energy might otherwise further taint the lands. Being a tree seemed a reasonably nice fate, all things considered.
Did it not not matter anymore? Not for today, anyway. They had lived. They will see another day. The world would not implode upon itself. Not yet, anyway. As long as they were alive, they could still do things. Fix things. Make a difference.
But rest ... rest they could not. Not truly. Not yet. The withering was still there, the civil war was still there, the Crusaders' Guild was still there, the devilgod was probably still there, grinding his teeth over losing today's battle... They could not hide from the world, and they could not flee. They had to hold their ground and fight, one way or another.
Remember what I told you, back by the borderhouse? We cannot keep fleeing. Even if we do not get tired, even if the thing chasing us does not catch up, we will eventually reach the end of the world, be it a sea we cannot cross or the prophetic end-time... And then we will have to fight anyway. Alone. He did not actually voice anything, however; it would appear Thaler had dozed off, and he did not want to perturb her with his thoughts. Rest. You deserve it. I'm well enough to watch over you. Like you did for me. He can, at the very least, give her the rest of today.
He really had been away from actually acting on being a warrior for too long, had he not? He had kept physically fit, but it had been eight years since he was last adventuring (fleeing!), and decades since he was in an actual war. While he still consciously knew things, the exact sense of how harrowing things were in war had lost its edge, up until he was amid everything again.
Sekalyns considered both killing and war inherently dishonorable. Something that you did because you had to. Deliph, to them, was a devil, and the common thing to wish before battles, aletaria res, was no less than the wish to what was to ensue to be brought into the past. To fight not to win, but to end the horror.
You think too much, Ardjan had insisted, on more than one occasion. Perhaps. But lamenting to himself seemed to be what he did. Not much else to do while they were on the way; it was not as if he could afford to fall asleep himself, even if the road was - thankfully - quite monotonous. Break. Yes.
The human warrior sighed, lowering his head and closing his eyes. Though his soul was no longer trying to collapse his body into itself in order to not be stretched too thin, he probably still lacked quite a bit, and his body and mind insisted he returned to slumber. That whole irritable, weighed down feeling. Were there no plans and no injuries, he would perhaps have considered just settling down against Etakar's side and sleeping it off in whatever secluded spot they could find by the road.
Etakar continued undeterred, not quite like a cat, not quite like a wolf, quite unlike a horse. A good horse would outrun a dekkun on plains - and Etakar was a plains' dekkun -, but not outlast one ... dekkuns could be truly relentless trackers if they set their mind to hunting someone down. Also made them brilliant at covering long distances in general, if you managed to convince them there was a point to doing so.
It was ... cool. The air was heavy, damp, even if it was not raining. It smelled like northern autumn, of moisture and decaying leaves. Odd thing that, seasons. His homeland had only had one, hot and raining. Not too many people originating outside of his home regions fared too well there. Either they caught some exotic disease (which was further exaggerated by the fact that compared to most northern peoples, the Sekalyns were neat-freaks; you had to be if you lived in a climate where your shirt would grow mold on it while you were wearing it if you did not change it daily, and everything that was unclean you could almost literally see rot), or the heat fatigued them. Oddly, even the desert peoples were brought down by the latter - it had been implied it was the moisture. Easier to keep cool and alert in dry heat, as long as you had water.
It was also lot quieter here and now than it would have been in a rainforest. No rain beating against broad leaves, no birds, no distant, ageless call of a beast. Just wind, and even that had barely enough strength to rustle leaves. Peaceful, perhaps. Was it but a calm before a storm?
Thaler seemed so small against him. She weighed almost nothing, too; just yesterday he had been able to pick her up with barely any effort. She was warm now. It seemed almost ... back to normal, he guessed. Yet, it also felt as if things would be all too easily broken again. There was something very tentative about the whole thing, but yet ... in all that, there was still some proof that he could hope, was there not? If he had told her what he felt, and the devilgod himself had intervened, and somehow they were still together here...? Here. Now. Real. Thaler was real. She was still alive, he was still breathing. Comes what comes... He will wait for as long as he has to. For now, just hold her close and try not to think about the future too much.
After a while, a slight twitch went through the human man, and he lifted his head to stare at the road ahead once more. Contrary to Thaler's concerns, ravens were quite capable of holding onto things while they were sleeping ... humans, not so much, especially if said things included a whole other person. He should try not to fall asleep. Easier thought than done.
After some pondering, he settled on trying to recollect what was known as Nerekthe's Epic - or song-tale, if to go by the verbatim translation. Compared to northern epics, it was an odd one; in this, the war was already over, and who was presumed to be the nominal character was but an observer, someone who walked over the destroyed land and witnessed its rebirth. If this is what they were about to see - the razing of the land - then how many of them would see its rebirth?
Unlike the militaristic rhythm and counted syllables of Ienaphyoraem and other directive collections of verses, Retaleakata Atenerekthe seemed to have little pattern, and instead seemed to take after whatever tune seemed to fit the words; with song-tales such as these, the singer had the freedom to add their own flair and interpretation as they saw fit. It was the tale and feeling that mattered there, not so much the exact precision in the meaning of each word.
At this time, Aemoten did opt to voice the words, in what was more a melodic whisper than anything else. Much more would have been taxing on his voice as it now, and and if Thaler was fully asleep, he should probably not wake her. If she was not ... she had implied she liked how his native language sounded, even when he was just habitually speaking it. It had been a surprising, if generally pleasant notion - he had gotten the impression most people considered Sekalynic rather harsh-sounding, the way the usually pronounced things.

Ejit liatrakh em raneat akantrek...
Etri si aleraem anylotejietam,
eri aokeja tamatret anelija,
eri remnataonaet itnakatialem,
atparemjaet antelontentjaet...
Nari si akantrek ameratam,
ireimaet akhaet leim amerakajanaet,
irenaet ietonakaet tem atonjiltaet,
iresetinaet larak setnepeth,
irenaet testapeth lem teykjil...
Ralajigatjaet nateleikei lejinamnet,
etri teseitraket aleatera tamatretak
ireakhet leiematarajaet etenla teja,
ireamerjakhet latakara iokenaet...

The first verse, mostly an introduction, the two next, the description of the land as it was then, people's - the titular character's included - realization that the war was over, and them rising again, fourth, the description of the narrative character as she walked over the land, fifth, the fall of rain, fires put out and blood washed away, sixth, the raising of wind, the clearing of air, seventh, the waking of the plants... On and on it went, describing how, bit by bit, the land repaired itself. Of how, in the end, nature set things right again, given time.
The first times he had heard it he had been so young that he - habituated to the war he had born into as he was, and unaware of the dark age and, for the matter, symbolics - had predominantly just wondered why was it posed as a good, noteworthy thing that it was raining. It was undoubtedly so that rain did serve to make plants grow, and would help with everything burning and smoking, too, but it was always raining where they lived, regardless of whether you could make use of it or not. Always wet, and always suffocatingly hot.
The various Sekalynic nations - the Northeasterners notwithtanding - spanned considerable area into the Malith Jungle, from lowlands to up in the mountains, and as the case was, especially the lower areas blocked the clouds' path and brought upon them heavy rainfall that was as certain as the sun rising. A scribe from past the Old Tenihurian regions (which had long since been assimilated into the Sekalynic nations, with the descendants of the Tehihurian tribes gradually losing most of their culture and becoming who were now known as Highland Sekalyns) had asserted that the only reason the Lower Sekalyn was not quite as dark-skinned as he was was precisely due to the perpetual clouds adorning the sky ... and the cover of the forest.
If he recalled correctly, the pitch-skinned scribe had been called Gao, though his full name was a long, complex one shared with some river of his homeland. He had forgotten so much, over time... Only a few individuals continued to stand out. Gao. Karakon Menepth. Elise. Öjenne Dabalimon. What was her bodyguard's real name? The man was alway there, watching with his distrustful, yellow eyes, towering over Lady Dabalimon (who was by far taller than most northern men and barely an inch short from matching Aemoten's height herself) and everyone else... He did not have any fondness for the Sekalyn, but he was the most trusted companion of the woman who had, after their loss against the Sekalyns, singlehandedly prevented the complete abolishment of the Egemic Empire. Yet, tried as he might, the Sekalynic warrior could not recall his name, just his rather insulting nickname. Who else? Ardjan Elantair-Amalegäs, the unusually talented Drylandic human mage ... not shying away from black magic or necromancy, either, as those were not shunned where he was from.
He had been fourteen when he first opted to travel with Aemoten, sixteen when they parted ways. It was not long before he entered Rodoria, but after that unfortunate incident that had killed him for the fourth - and thus far final - time... Ardjan, if he was alive, would be thirty-six now. Perhaps they should pay his people a visit, should their visit of Zerul City prove unfruitful. If not he, then Ramiyletara Temetara, the leader of those folks, should know something. There was only one person in the entirety of Rodoria whose magical knowledge (Aemoten figured) rivaled hers ... and Delian Gilmah was not exactly liked around these parts, nor, chances were, a welcoming host willing to admit guests. She would not be offering them their typical flatbread (they baked it under the sun, on flat pieces of darkened metal) and cactus fruit, for certain.
And if he managed to meet up with karakon Menepth ... well, he had more than too many unanswered questions, after barely more than a week. Some answers were overdue, and if they could travel in the same general direction while they were at it, the better. While intrinsically passive in conflict, karakon could be quite formidable if someone picked them as a target.
But one thing at a time. Zerul City. Healer. Housing. Bath. Tea. Sleep. The things he will do tomorrow can wait till tomorrow. It would not be too long now until the gates to Zerul City would come into sight, and he would have to deal with today's matters. Etakar would probably catch quite some attention by the gates, a predator (omnivore, but fully capable of taking down beings bigger than anything naturally found in these lands) standing seven and a half feet tall at withers, ridden by a foreign man in a black coat, a strange woman and a raven...
Judging by some of those they were now passing on the main road, some further disaster had struck. It's not us, it's everyone. Finding an unoccupied healer and spare housing could prove more difficult than anticipated, unless William had even more influence than he had figured. No matter. He would at the very least do this much.

The Prophecy

*rubs temples* Jack, this is why we made an agreement to carry Legion's characters until his circumstances change, remember? Which is why I'm writing the next post there, too (the collabing bit is just because writing dialogue for another person's charater(s) is awkward, even when I mostly know what they'll do/say already).

@Mercinus3, are you still pissed at me? I'm unable to tell. Mostly because you've not responded to me for a while.

The Prophecy

Thaler and Aemoten

[[Collab, as it was left; last post by me 7 months ago.]]

Thaler wasn't built to take the cold, she neither had bulging muscles or adequate clothing to keep the cold out. Had the outfit been in one piece it likely would have served better than in its current condition. What didn't help that the ground was so cold it was leeching what little heat her body managed to get through her shivering and sucking it away. As if Gaia herself had decided to take the heat from the girl to warm herself. It won't have surprised her if it were true of course, after Rilon there wasn't going to be much that did surprise her. She stretched and flexed her fingers a few times, trying to get the pale almost blue appendages to get a modicum of blood and heat in them but found there wasn't much feeling left in her hands. Perhaps the blood loss, but just as likely the fatigue and hunger, caused her to feel both restless but utterly rooted to the spot. Perhaps their short while became a long one again, it usually does. She mused to herself, perhaps the demon girl had attacked them again, or they were all sat deciding what to do next, they did a lot of that it seemed.
She wanted to get up, to move and get going but she was too tired, even the gentle pecking of Beatrice did little to chivvy her along. Leaning her head back against the bark and closing her eyes she relaxed into the tree, five more minutes then she'd get up and go. Even if she didn't find Zerul she would bump into someone who would either take her there or to the nearest village to be fixed up. After rest, food and a change of clothes -as well as some medical attention- she'd be able to find her own way to Zerul or wherever else she needed to go.

Dekkun bore little visual semblance to cats, and their mode of locomotion was better suited for endurance than bursts of speed, yet there was something oddly catlike in the manner they moved. Perhaps it was the rise and fall of their shoulders and the roll of their joints, coupled with the nigh silent fashion in which their hardened fingers and toes sought out the ground. They had been described as almost perpetually stalking.
Etakar's gait was, granted, not quite perfect; a very perceptive individual might have noticed slight gingerness in the fall of his left forelimb, of the slight compensation of the other three ... but it was a far cry from the labored three-footed hobbling he had been doing before, which had been broken up by awkward sprints on two whenever the noble beast had gotten fed up with the pain of it all, and times spent lying down and waiting for the humanoids to catch up. He could do with the minor twinges of pain... A few good nights of rest would probably rid him of it, and should his elbow swell up again, he can probably convey that matter to the healer well enough.
For now, onward on the invisible trail the half-human had left behind. It was towards the city Aemoten had insisted they were headed to, so all the closer to their target anyway... The fact that the man himself was sitting on his back made little difference; if you were four times the mass of an average horse to begin with, the added weight of the average human - or even two or three - hardly amounted to significant change...
He did not need to go far, though. Ever so soon, need to use his nostrils was dropped in favor of his sight as he slowed his step with a low affirmative rumble, eyes honing on the lithe figure leaning against a tree.

Aemoten did not need the beast's notification; he had spotted the familiar white hair almost as soon as long-time companion had. It worried him she was down rather than still on the way, though a more rational part of him immediately reasoned that if she had been attacked or outright dropped from her feet, she would not have been propped up thusly. Nevertheless, if her injuries had been more grave than he had earlier estimated...
A quick pat on his shoulder, and Etakar bowed down for him to slide off - an activity which momentarily caused hims to pause to gather himself; standing on his own to feet yet again felt dangerously unsteady. It was with no small amount of trepidation - of several origins - that he turned to properly face her.
"Thaler?" Questioning ... concerned.
Better at least to identify himself, if she had not already noticed and correctly recognized Etakar's near-silent approach for what it was ... or his own, slightly less silent act of dismounting.

Thaler was still trying to figure out if moving was a good idea, the raven had hopped over to settle against her and she ran her fingers lightly over it's feathers. The raven pecked at her fingers but she ignored the bossy bird for the most part. Hopefully someone would happen by and she could get herself on her way back to Zerul, once there she'd work out what to do about all this... mess. When someone called her name it took a moment to figure out who it was. Her head lifted to show she was listening but she didn't verbalise anything, she wanted to see what he wanted first.

Thaler did not answer him, though she did raise her head to face him. Awake, then ... a relief.
As he slowly approached, the raven - there she was, too; the daywalker had indeed taken her with her - turned her head to glance at him with her single remaining good eye the same, beak slightly ajar. Whatever she'd been at before, she'd most likely been disturbed from it. In many ways, corvids were like oddly wise small children - at once curious, mischievous and stubborn, yet harboring caution and reason beyond mere few years. No respite for wild animals... Which reminded him, they would probably need to show the raven to a proper healer, too. It could not be pleasant walking about singed all over, the damage to her freshly sightless eye notwithstanding.
Once by her side, he lowered himself to one knee and, Thaler permitting and mindful of the scratches covering them, gathered her hands into his own, gently running his thumb over the back of her hand. Small, slender, pale, and cold. So very cold, especially compared to his own... It had long been made clear how important feeling and sound were when there was no sight. Many things one would otherwise know at a glance were only available by touch... For several seconds, the quiet prevailed, only perturbed by the sound of breathing as he continued to lightly stroke the back of her hand.
What would he even say? There were hardly any secrets left. He felt many things, but yet, was utterly clueless. Logic dictated they should first turn to a healer, then find a place to rest. She was hurt, and the both of them were exhausted, mentally and physically. Go there, do that, fall into the purely functional course of action. Cold, effective. Impersonal. Unfulfilling. Anything but dry business; there was enough ordering people around and organizing as was.
Time... There never was time, unless he took it. Yet, some things were more important than others. Much more so. Sometimes you had to take time, everything else be damned. In spite of all his weariness, he felt oddly alert.
"Thaler, I..." he began, and halted, breath caught in his throat. He sighed, a shadow of a sad smile passing over his face. "I appear to be out of words; can you you believe that?"

Thaler had responded but Aemoten remained quiet, it was odd for him and for a moment her brows furrowed slightly, confused and perhaps a little worried. She listened carefully, any sound that the soldier was still there and still upright. She heard the pitch of weight on the ground and for a moment worried that he had again passed out. His hands took hers though, so warm they felt almost blistering to the touch and she all but pulled her hands away from the sudden heat. The tingle of heat reviving the ends of her nerves and reminding her just how cold she was. She said nothing though, waiting on Aemoten and one of his speeches, the longer the silence dragged the more she braced herself for bad news.
Aemoten seemed to stammer around bad news, quick detours and brief stops and not far off the road at all's, he'd become very wary of using those terms and instead seemed to wait until the correct phrasing was at hand. So the silence prevailed and Thaler began to steel what was left of her mind against whatever she was about to be told. Were the other two okay? Of course, Aemoten would never have left if Olan and Jalenec were in danger. So they were staying and making camp with the strangers they'd met and the murderous...thing. Perhaps she ought to have stayed to figure out what the hell it was? Of course she couldn't, it felt like someone was clawing at the inside of her skull whenever she was near that feral beast. Rilon was nothing compared to the pain that thing had inflicted. However she knew what her people were like, they took her after all. So of course this one would also be forgiven for trying to impale Jaelnec. The two outlanders had done little wrong, not that she trusted them but it seemed trust was a commodity that was not in excess for anyone. Anyone save Olan.
She was almost amused but she was too tired and too cold to laugh, had she not said they would be held up again? It was always their fate to be forced into these absurd situations, as if the Withering was a living thing that was countering them at every turn. Throwing obstacles in their path to slow them down and driving rifts between friends in hopes of destabilising their goals. If she didn't know better she'd have called the Withering a demon and not a disease.
When finally the silence broke she tilted her head to listen but the foreigner managed no more than two words before falling silent again. Her brows furrowed once more, in confusion and silent thought. How was this one going to be spun? The feral was a victim, much like the fire witch was, thus couldn't be held accountable for the lives she took, thus was innocent which meant they had to take her and the other two on their journey because this wasn't a hero's quest anymore but a quest for redemption against all odds. It was funny how the idea of what a heroic party would be made out of... and what theirs was, was so vastly different. They had their kooky bard, Olan. They had their fresh faced knight in Jalenec, they had their battle hardened veteran in Aemoten but that was where it ended. Demons, thieves, murderers, liars and cheats were not part of the stories her mother used to tell... yet here they were.
'I appear to be out of words; can you believe that?' He said, Thaler's thoughts disrupted by his sudden input and she managed a weary smile, "No, not really." She stated honestly but with as much playfulness as she had the mind to muster. So it was her turn to be the efficient one, right? She took her hand from Aemoten and cupped the Raven with it, carefully she used her other hand to begin to stand. "You wouldn't have come out here with Etakar if you thought I would return to the glade with you. You didn't bring Olan, probably because he's the only one who can translate those three's words and you wouldn't leave Olan without someone to protect him. The only reason you'd leave them is if you intended to split the group, which means you came not with the intention of dragging me back but getting us to Zerul. Which is a sensible plan because I can't actually feel my toes anymore and Beatrice could do with a healer too. You need rest and I don't doubt a break from being in command and Etakar needs somewhere he can take the weight off his paw and give it some proper rest. Am I close to correct?" She asked, wincing as she attempted to take a first step and nearly lost her balance. Her numb foot had blossomed with a fresh bout of pins and needles. "By going ahead you can make sure that everything is readied for the others on their return, possibly smooth over the feral murderers crimes with the guards before we enter as well. Because, I know you three too well, you won't leave her behind even if that is the sensible thing to do. Which means like it or not I either tolerate her or leave myself." She settled Beatrice as much as she could and looked to the vague area Aemoten had been, "But we don't need to worry about that now, only the excuse we give anyone who asks what happened to me. We can't very well say the girl that's joining us is basically insane and a violent feral who tried to kill some of us and tried her best to with me... do we?"
Thaler listened out for Etakar and when she could be sure of her legs she stepped away from the tree and towards the path, "We could blame the yth I suppose. The marks would tally up if people didn't look too closely." Reaching out to try and find Etakar she continued to contemplate quietly. Of course she'd rather warn her home city there was an unstable feral murderer headed their way whose very presence drove people to rash and aggressive behaviour but she knew Aemoten, Olan and Jaelnec would disapprove. "Maybe some kind of wild animal attack would be more convincing though and not send people out on a hunt we know will end without satisfaction."

His admission was responded to with a weary smile, "No, not really." One could tell she was worn, yet there was a twinge of playfulness to her voice. To have hope even at times like these, one had to take in what little they could, and keep what they held dear close. For as long as there was a reason to keep trying, he would.
Carefully (and perhaps painfully, Aemoten figured, wincing, as he recalled her injured shoulder), the daywalker freed her hands to pick up the raven and stand, prompting him to set his hand down on his own knee for support and follow suit.
"You wouldn't have come out here with Etakar if you thought I would return to the glade with you. You didn't bring Olan, probably because he's the only one who can translate those three's words and you wouldn't leave Olan without someone to protect him. The only reason you'd leave them is if you intended to split the group, which means you came not with the intention of dragging me back, but getting us to Zerul. Which is a sensible plan because I can't actually feel my toes anymore and Beatrice could do with a healer too. You need rest and I don't doubt a break from being in command and Etakar needs somewhere he can take the weight off his paw and give it some proper rest. Am I close to correct?" Thaler asked; in spite of the condition of them both, the foreign warrior was almost inclined to chuckle at her at her attempt at figuring out his pattern of thought. Granted, she hit quite close to the mark.
"We're only going back there if that's what you'd prefer - assuming we can convince Etakar to agree to the plan beforehand. We'd probably have to promise to cook the lohk for him if we were to achieve that..." The dekkun had most likely hunted the last night, chances were, and was just fine eating meat and roots raw - he simply had taken an odd liking to cooked meat at some point, and gladly used most agreeable chances to obtain it he got. Though pointing it out would have netted him a stern reminder of how small and insignificant compared to the noble beast he was, Etakar's somewhat cumbersome ways of tending the fire and trying to cook himself were always somewhat comical...
That aside ... the only reason to go back they had was the fact they had an actual healer among them now ... however, Thaler had already declined letting her help her.
"You're quite correct indeed - it would appear a certain someone was intent on cleaning up first, or at the very least it was the excuse she gave before she all but fled from me ... and a dekkun will move faster over long distances than any combination of two horses, a donkey, and four or five people I can think of." Especially since two or three of the four or five people he did not know whether had ever ridden an animal, one of the horses was a coward, and the donkey was stubborn as a, well, donkey. Etakar, though he was now better off, probably would not enjoy waiting even longer for others to catch up...
"Rest, a healer... Yeah. We do need those things, don't we?" he reaffirmed, once more sounding weary, if not slightly mournful. Could he ever not be a leader at all, however? Even now, he was inevitably made to think of what, where, how and in which order to do... "Could do with a break from being in command, too ... it hardly leaves time to be a person, to be yourself. It's only fair to take a tiny bit of time every now and then, no?" It was a lonely place at the top, one of his old thoughts echoed back. In the end, other people could easily forget you were a person, first, too, and whenever you were forced to make a compromise, or rule a decision against someone's wishes... Few were satisfied with compromises, and even fewer liked to be overruled.
He started when Thaler almost stumbled, taking a a step forward and reaching out to catch her. It was a reflex that paid no heed to his own condition. He halted himself with his arms in mid-air when it became evident she could regain her balance, somewhat awkwardly straightening himself and letting his limbs fall back into a neutral position. A part of him wondered whether he should drape his coat over her shoulders even if it meant leaving him with even less clothes than she was wearing now ... though with his coat being heavy and practically ground-length on him, it would probably make a particularly exaggerated stumbling hazard (as opposed to his gambeson, which was lighter and only thigh-length to him). He could probably try and wrap his coat around the both of them once they were up dekkunback...
"By going ahead you can make sure that everything is readied for the others on their return, possibly smooth over the feral murderer's crimes with the guards before we enter as well. Because, I know you three too well, you won't leave her behind even if that is the sensible thing to do. Which means like it or not I either tolerate her or leave myself. But we don't need to worry about that now, only the excuse we give anyone who asks what happened to me. We can't very well say the girl that's joining us is basically insane and a violent feral who tried to kill some of us and tried her best to with me... do we?" This gave Aemoten a pause, even as the daywalker began carefully searching for her way forward once more. ...Join them? "We could blame the yth I suppose. The marks would tally up if people didn't look too closely. Maybe some kind of wild animal attack would be more convincing though and not send people out on a hunt we know will end without satisfaction." Don't need to...?
"Thaler..." he insisted, slowly shaking his head. "There is hardly any convincing Olan to go back on his promise to you. I desire to be where you are. And Jaelnec would follow us. He was barely content with being parted from us for half a day. Besides, do you really I could bear that girl's presence knowing she hurt you enough to make you leave?"
Save for the brief flash of white anger when he first saw her, attacking Thaler, let alone after everything he had already been through, he did not harbour any persisting dislike towards her - no more than towards any other unwitting hindrance, anyway - but be the cause for the departure of one of the less than handful of people in the world he deeply cared about, and he would surely come to resent her. Maybe not quite on the same level as he resented the blood devilgod, but not be willing to have her around regardless.
Of the people who had started out from the small village when their group first formed, only he and Jaelnec were left. Olan and Thaler they had met but two days later, and they, too, had stuck around up to this point. One of them he loved, another he considered a friend, and even Olan he had come to be fond of over time, though the personal interactions with him had been few. Many others had come and gone. Some of them were confirmed dead; the fate of others was largely unknown. With the world being the way it was, their chances were not looking too good. Of those he had held dear before, only his brother remained out and about (called away by some duty by his god), all the rest were either dead, over decade removed, or had never been more than circumstantial acquaintances to begin with. He had no one else. Nor did Jaelnec ... the young squire did not even have the luxury of one single remaining relative somewhere out there.
"Not sure why she'd ever want to join us - it'd appear she's terrified of both myself and Jaelnec, at least, and probably has family, relatives and friends somewhere out there she might want to go back to, provided that whatever possessed her didn't opt to rip their faces off. - As it seems, her state was due to a possession by something not even Olan knows what is, however the healer could pacify it. Not remove it - because nothing could ever be quite as easy. She herself's mere human, at least. Iridiel offered to try and talk to her. With any luck, we'd at least know whether or not there is a whole nest of whatever's in her out there, or if it's contagious - all the world needs is a hundred Angoras, leaping out of bushes and attacking people. In any case, even if she wanted to come with us, I've already informed the other two that my people take priority. And should she try something ... either she is not a good human, either, or Iridiel and Olan were wrong and the thing's not in control. I'm not going to give any second chances with either."
Aemoten sighed.
"I guess we could say it's the yth if someone asked ... healers usually don't go nosing around, and if the borderhouse people did any talking, then none of them got to actually inspect you, though they did see you were hurt. Suppose you could say it was one of the lesser siblings or nieces or nephews of the big yth for the scratches... Keep it simple." Another regrettable affair ... creatures whose only fault was their incompatibility with human life - due to them being as literal omnivores as it got - and then someone had went and made sure at least one of them could never even hope to be a proper yth anymore. Piaan was nasty stuff ... made one incapable of thought. Deprived one of one's nature. Drove one insane. And then one died.
The Sekalyn winced to himself, finally moving and catching up with Thaler, carefully setting an arm around her, hand on her good shoulder.
"I apologize for the long explanation - though perhaps I owed you an overview. No need to ponder over it too long until we've reached Zerul City, and hopefully the next morning. Shall we?" He inquired, peering down at her face as he (perhaps pointlessly) gestured at the dekkun a short way off. (How did one ride a creature in a long skirt? Seated sideways? Seemed precarious.)
"Which reminds me - weary or not, we should no neglect dinner once we've visited a healer." In the end, they had eaten more or less nothing since waking. "Tell me, what would you fancy?"

Thaler listened to his explanation with quiet intent, though she appeared neither surprised, impressed nor moved by this 'Angora's' plight. She had little intent to upset Aemoten or make things worse than they already were between the pair but as his lengthy explanation came to an end she sighed, "So she is like the paladin? She can't... won't be held accountable for the actions of the thing lurking beneath her skin. Pacified or not I fear for the common populace when she decides...or it decides, to lose their temper again." She stated tiredly, she was done with the duplicitous nature of people they met. Masquerading behind a human face to garner trust before trying to annihilate those she held dear. Still, Aemoten attempted to reassure her, "I hope you are right." If she stayed, well Thaler could not, would not. She was already struggling with her own anger and fear, she didn't need the presence of a supernatural murderer hanging over her to make her feel worse, have less control. She'd relinquished so much of herself already, her morals, her ethos. She couldn't risk losing any more of herself.
When food was mentioned she turned her nose up, "I will be honest, I am not hungry. I only want a healer, a bath and a chance to get some clothes. After that I plan to sleep." In fact the idea of food after the smell of all that blood and gore - which still burned the edge of her nose- made her stomach turn. Finding the dekkun's fine hide she gave it a soft caress. Sure the animal likely could not feel it through the scaly plates but it made Thaler feel better.

"So she is like the paladin? She can't... won't be held accountable for the actions of the thing lurking beneath her skin. Pacified or not I fear for the common populace when she decides...or it decides, to lose their temper again," the daywalker stated tiredly.
"Not quite," the foreign warrior murmured, momentarily staring off into the distance. "Annabelle never existed - she was an act knowingly made up for the express purpose of deceiving people. Angora is an actual human ... and I doubt the thing in her has enough presence of mind to be facetious. Her reverting back, though ... that is a concern I share." The foreigner sighed. "Hold the human accountable for its deeds ... no. But you can only judge general danger by wholes."
"I hope you are right," Thaler admitted, causing Aemoten to raise an eyebrow; he was not entirely sure what part of what he said the daywalker was referring to.
"Human, albeit possessed? That I know for a fact. Her plans, I can presently only guess at. My intentions ... well, I'd reckon my identity would make me the sole authority on those, would you not agree?" His tone was lighter with the last sentence, even as he studied her expression with care. "I meant it when I said you - and Jaelnec and Olan - take priority. I'll do what I can. And if her presence is too much to bear, she won't be coming anywhere, simple as that. Why would it be any other way? I hold you dear, and she's but a complete stranger."
There was no question, no choice to be made. He had made that one what felt like an impossibly long time ago, as he was holding her, and she carefully tracing her fingers over his cheek.
"I will be honest, I am not hungry. I only want a healer, a bath and a chance to get some clothes. After that I plan to sleep."
"It will be five hours until we've reached Zerul City ... probably two more until we've taken care of all but the sleep," Aemoten estimated.
It was a long time to go... He had to admit, though - he was not truly hungry in the sense of wanting to eat, either (though his stomach was quite tangibly empty) ... being overstressed, injured, fighting, and nigh constantly alert seemed to work in that way on him. Those times, he typically ended up forcing himself eat knowing he had to, or he would otherwise soon begin to lose strength ... he briefly wondered whether or not Thaler was much the same way. Not eating would probably take a heavier toll on her than him, as much as she was slighter than him in body... But it probably would not make too much difference whether it was this evening or next morning.
The human man lifted his shoulders a bit in a slight shrug - Thaler might have been able to feel it through his arm placed gently around her shoulders.
"Just tea, perhaps?"
Might help with falling asleep... And definitely get rid of any last lingering smell or taste of blood.
Thaler reached out to caress Etakar once they were standing next to him. They were strange creatures indeed ... their faces and lower limbs were covered by bare plates, but the rest of their bodies were covered by both scales and fur ... or furry scales? Something that looked like scales at the base, but then split into many strands of flexible hairs at the edge. One could feel the hardness of the scales beneath if one pressed one's fingers deep into the dekkun's fur, but just running a hand over, the fur felt incredibly smooth.
There was no denying the raw power of the creature before them - too intelligent to be tamed, even less domesticated, he was a willing partner, there for no reason other than that he chose to be. And at the same time, he could be incredibly careful, meticulously handling objects and beings that were so very much smaller than him, and causing no harm.
"His ears are hidden in his mane, just a little bit behind and below his horns," the Sekalyn leaned his head a bit closer to entrust the daywalker, in an almost conspiratory manner.

"Tea." She said in agreement, the delicate scent would not be overbearing but would wash out the scent of blood that seemed to permeate every where they went and the soft taste would clean the heavy feeling from her mouth but not leave her tongue laden with flavours she couldn't cope with. She returned Aemoten's secretive whisper with a gentle nod of understanding, gently allowing her fingertips to run up as far and as high as she could reach. She of course trusted Aemoten with the knowledge he'd imparted her but it would have been good to find the creatures ears herself. Sadly she was a tad short, "Etakar, do you mind giving us a ride?" She asked the beast gently, of course, she did not expect a reply but somehow it felt wrong of her to just assume the beast would be happy to ferry them around. Aemoten maybe, since they were friends, the rest of them were relatively unknown though. For a reason unknown to her it felt similar to walking up to Aemoten, hopping on his back and expecting him to carry her without giving him an option and treating him like a dumb beast. Maybe I'm over thinking it though.

"Tea," Thaler agreed, settling the matter, even as she continued running her fingers through Etakar's fur, reaching up at his suggestion, an act which Etakar ponderously observed from the corner of his eye, and then lowered and tilted his head to permit the daywalker access.
Noble beast though he might have been named for his general mannerisms, Etakar did not necessarily share the common human understandings of regality and etiquette - or perhaps he did, and just chose to interpret the situation on his own terms. At the end of the day, a man might look down on a horse because it carried him and his things, but still gladly serve as a perch for his pet parrot... Whichever the case, Etakar had no shame, and was quite evidently content - if not pleased - with being scratched behind the ear like a very, very big cat.
The little half-human asked him something in a soft voice, though what precisely, he could not decipher. He knew a few human languages, and could even write in them if he so desired (owing to one Ardjan Elantair-Amalegäs, who had also oddly enough insisted he could control rock if he so desired), but what the locals here spoke in was too new for him to have brought much sound and meaning together. He knew his name, though, as he did the little one's...
His own vocalizations were mostly limited to deep rumbling growls from deep within his chest, and odd, almost metallic sounds which ranged from similar to someone drawing blades against one another or sharpening a scythe to powerful, somehow pre-historic calls which could carry well over a dozen miles and had occasionally been mis-attributed to bird rather than beast. Add to that whatever sighs and dismissive snorts he could muster... Coupled with his full range of gestures and some writing ability, it was hard to claim that he could not express himself if he only so desired.
As for the exact content of the question, though - the noble beast's eyes shifted to Aemoten. The man still looked worn, standing by willpower more than anything, though for the time being it appeared he had finally relaxed some, and was showing his state plainly. Quite uncommon these days; he had been not unlike a prey animal, hardly ever showing pain, hardly ever indicating weakness - for if a prey animal showed weakness, it made them a target, and thus it was not permitted. In the nature, one only showed weakness if already on the verge of death ... or if fully confident one could afford it, that it was safe enough.
Other than that? The human man was vaguely concerned, perhaps. But not only. At times, a slight soft smile touched his features, which, once again, appeared to be a rare occurrence these days. He had mostly been looking down at Thaler beside him, up until moments after the little half-human had posed her question, and he finally raised his head to look at the dekkun instead.
"Se, Etakar, areiteam len aretael nekanal am phyrekejan neketarel," he explained.
Etakar shifted his eyes back to the daywalker. Was it so? The little one really had asked him, and as one would ask from a creature that was expected to abide, and not respond? Sekalyns had respected him, Egemites mostly feared - nay, were terrified of - him, the Drylanders not been entirely sure what to make of him (Ardjan left aside), but appeared to regard him more as a curiosity than a monster, and from what he had seen, the people here once more feared him. Aside of Aemoten, only the one called Olan had spoken to him directly.
It was a nice change of pace. Perhaps he would come to quite like the little one.
Narrowing his eyes, the dekkun nodded deeply, once, a bit unusually for him sending the motion with a deep affirmative rumble (otherwise reserved for occasions when he was not in a position to indicate his agreement with the movement of his head, either because Aemoten had asked the question from up his back or he was fully flat on the ground and could not be bothered). He had come to suspect the little one oriented by touch and hearing rather than sight.
And so, the great beast gracefully gracefully lowered himself to the ground. If Aemoten was better off, he had occasionally just extended a hand for him to step on for leverage, but for now, this was the safer option.

Thaler felt the beast move and when it did she concentrated fully on the range of motion. The large but gentle creature seemed to bow it's head. This was followed by a rumble not unlike that of a cat in sensation; but much different in noise and projection, which she was hoping meant affirmation. She had remembered hearing him in battle, such a noise had made no appearance and so she could only hope it was good. She made no move though, not until she felt Etakar lowering himself down, waiting a moment in case Aemoten wanted to warn her of some other reason the dekkun was moving but upon hearing none she uttered quietly, "Thank you Etakar."
She didn't hop on the creature right away though, waiting for Aemoten to help direct her and guide her on how beast to get on to the great creature. She'd never ridden anything before, let alone a dekkun so it would be an interesting experience.

It seemed that Thaler tensed slightly as Etakar seemed to consider his translation of the daywalker's words for a moment, and then offered a nod and - to Aemoten's surprise - a low affirmative rumble. Sometimes, he forgot that Thaler effectively lived in a different world than he did, yet it appeared that Etakar had taken note. The human man had long had the feeling that Etakar understood humanoids better than humanoids - himself included, even after all this time - understood Etakar. Where the dekkun knew, he had to trust - and trust, with his life and everything he held dear, he did.
He also doubted Etakar saw the lack of sight (or apparent preference in communication?) as a fault any more than the Sekalyic warrior's shortcomings in the nasal department or reduced aptitude in complete darkness, or his own inability to handle equipment meant for humans, speak, or as of yet comprehend Rodorian. There was an air of practicality to the beast. You were the most suitable for a task, you did it.
Thaler quell, quietly thanked the beast, "Alonam lal," he just as quietly translated before returning to Rodorian.
"Have you ridden any being before?" he inquired. "Etakar is ... he is not like a horse, you can't control a dekkun like that - you can only request and recommend, and ultimately he decides what is the most appropriate himself. You cannot tame a dekkun, and they're not domisticated ... you can only consider one a companion, a friend, an equal who is unlike you, and inevitably also far more powerful than you or I. Yet, in spite of the rift in power, I trust him fully, and he has risked his life for me. I trust him not to harm, and I believe he rather approves of you..." He had had a simple rope harness earlier, to help with holding onto (which Etakar had proven he could slip out of any time, though in his relative hurry, there had been no mind to fetch such aides. "He knows the way to Zerul City. You can hold onto his mane and lean against me..."

Thaler shook her head, "It seemed pointless for me to learn to ride, since I would not be able to guide whatever mount it would be that bore me." Her tone was gentle, not full of pity but more practicality. She gently felt around dekkun and leaned gently against his body. "I trust him too, he's helped save us all at least once, despite his own well being." She said honestly, when he mentioned that Etakar seemed to like her she smiled tiredly, "I like him too." Aemoten's final suggestion seemed sensible and with a nod she entrusted herself into the hands of the two friends.
Once she'd been aided up onto the beast and she'd checked she was neither a discomfort to it or to Aemoten she settled in for the ride. She leaned in against Aemoten's chest, holding Etakar's mane in a gentle grip and cradling Beatrice against her chest to keep her safe from falling off the beast. "I'm so sorry... if I fall asleep, please don't let me drop her." She uttered to Aemoten as his warmth began to soak into her frozen skin.

"It seemed pointless for me to learn to ride, since I would not be able to guide whatever mount it would be that bore me," Thaler gently explained in a very down-to-earth manner. Not even sat on the back of a market merchant's old peaceful mare as a child, for no particular reason other than being a child and feeling like it? Aemoten wondered to himself. Thaler had not been overly open about her childhood - only little bits and pieces, and from those it would seem her childhood had not necessarily been much kinder than that of a child born amid war. There was some sense in what she was saying, though, even when it was not absolute. But if all carrier beings you knew were expected to obey, and no one, yourself included, you believed you could lead one of them? Sometimes, belief and determination made all the difference...
"I guess this makes me the only one who has carried you recently, huh?" he lightly inquired instead. Better not to dwell on either of their childhoods. "There are people who have it figured out - riding blind. ...It'd be an entirely new experience to you, then? I figure it'd be easiest for you to try to imagine us all as one being... Relax and let yourself move along with him." He offered a little additional tidbit, even as he watched her lean against the noble beast and run her hands over his side and back.
"That's good ... I'm glad," he noted with a weary, but genuine smile when Thaler affirmed that her trust and like of the dekkun was mutual. "We'd make a good team, don't you think?"
Without much further ado, he straddled the dekkun, holding out an arm to help Thaler take a seat and settle comfortably in front of him , finally pulling the hem over both of them, as much as he could, carefully wrapping one arm around her waist and setting the other close to hers in Etakar's mane, all under the suspicious gaze of the raven's one good eye. It never ceased to amase him how small and lithe Thaler seemed next to him, made even more evident now that she was resting against his chest.
"I'm so sorry... if I fall asleep, please don't let me drop her," she quietly uttered.
"Don't worry; I'll take care," he assured her, sending another glance in their feathered companion's direction. The expression on the bird's face appeared endlessly confused; it was so humanlike it was almost comical. She was a large bird, too ... her wingspan was probably almost as wide as Thaler was tall. "Might want to ask Olan how most birds manage to sleep standing on one leg on a moving branch, later... Ready now?"

[[End here - as planned, there would have been 2-3 more posts, then the timeskip.]]

The Prophecy

Ehh... I guess this is it, then? I know Nessa did say a couple of times in the past that we could take over Thaler, but I don't think I'd feel entirely comfortable playing her, and it probably isn't much different for you, either...? I *could* e-mail Nessa just to make extra certain she's really gone, but I don't really hold much hope for anything coming from that. I did figure she'd return soon when I last talked to her.
I'll post the actual timeskip-post when I'm home - it's in a text file on my main workstation, not here. It's sat there for a while since, well, I haven't really been able to figure out how we could feasibly continue from there with Nessa out (and ... some other things we might discuss in private, but not here)... At this point there is no way Aemoten would agree to leaving Thaler behind. Maybe rewrite the end of the timeskip-post to be slightly more ambiguous while I'm at it. I suppose we could have Aemoten alone meet Jaelnec one more time the next morning ... have him let Jaelnec know the four of them (Aemoten-Thaler-Etakar-Beatrice) will travel south to meet up with an old friend of his, or at least said friend's people. Or something. Might make more in-character sense than just having them evaporate without leaving a trace.
Or, heck, I suppose we could have all of them, Jaelnec, Olan, Domhnall and Iridiel travel south (Angora will have to go somewhere else ... planned was where Gerald/Jillian go), if those characters are to be written out, too. It'd probably be at least a couple of weeks just traveling for whoever goes there. (Otherwise I'll see whether I can get Legion to collab a bit ... say this week. By 8 AM on 11th of December my time.) I kind of suspect Olan would stick with Aemoten/Thaler, anyway... Not sure why Jaelnec would stay behind, but ... I guess it's for Jaelnec to figure out what he wants to do, and why, not for me. Domhnall will just go wherever Iridiel goes.
As that path (them all going south) would eliminate all of my current played characters, I guess my next course would be write up a character sheet for one Yanin Glade (derivative of Janin Galeid, who is actually from the same world as Aemoten, and even met him; he'd essentially be his own Rodorian equivalent) and plop him down some bar in Zerul City. Probably whatever one the rest of the Zerul City bunch is. (Might bring him in even if it is only Aemoten and Etakar who are departing.)
I still don't like the idea of crossing out my current characters like so (death happens, even coincidental death, but ... rendering them into some kind of universe holes people shouldn't know exist, but carefully avoid?), but ... well, what can I do at this point. Koraakan will stick around whatever happens; what happened, happened.

Sounds like a good enough new plan?

The Prophecy

I'm not entirely dead (yet).