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I Have to be Seen to be Believed [Kinumo-Open]

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Skacharm looked up at the very large tree that the people of Kinumo called the "Tree of Memory."  It was a sacred place.  When he first rode up he thought in terms of military and battle.  The first thing to be attacked would be the tree in battle, as a show of strength.  It would be difficult to get to the town of Kinumo, but the tree was here in the open ready to be burned down.  Of course, that was before he got close enough to feel the magical power coming from the tree.  He didn't know if a spell had been put on it or if the items inside had protection spells, but burning down the tree would be near impossible.  

Spoiler

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He lived in the area, and had passed by, but he'd never visited.  He didn't have much reason to.  These people were the type that kept to themselves.  There weren't many of the townsfolk wandering around now.  They were in the fields already, working on growing their food.  He could see the horns of the demons, as they toiled away.  There were a few elves and humans too, and some species that weren't so easy to recognize.  They worked side by side, their children running in the rows of fields, putting food into baskets that were being harvested.  They looked happy.  

Someone approached Skacharm, and he had a medium size set of horns.  There was a mark on his shoulder, that Skacharm assumed was an Assassin's Mark.  He knew of the Assassin's Guild here, and he was fine with it as long as no one stepped over the line and tried to assassinate someone important.  He bowed slightly to Skacharm and then said, "Are you the one called Skacharm?  You are looking for this girl?"  The demon held a picture of Queen Malia.  

Skacharm sighed.  "Yes, that is me.  You have seen her?"  He had been going on wild goose chases ever since the queen had disappeared over two years ago.  He was starting to lose hope that he'd ever find her.  She could have been killed with the rest of those lost in the Spirit Wars.  Now when he went on these hunts he began to feel dejected before he even started.  

"I seen a woman who kind of looked like this girl, but she was older.  She seemed... not so nice," the demon said as he looked at the drawing.  The picture was Malia before her eighteenth birthday party, when she was innocent and full of hope.  It was possible that she looked older, since she'd aged two years.  But the description did not give Skacharm much hope that it was Malia.  Still, he had to try.  

"I will offer a reward to anyone who is willing to help find her.  We will follow your directions to see if she is anywhere near the area you saw her."  His voice was final as he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

"It's dangerous in that area," the demon said in a low voice.  "Only those who can take care of themselves in a dangerous situation should go." 

Skacharm nodded and got down from his horse.  He brushed aside the horse's mane and loosened the bit in his mouth.  "Please, I'll take care of my horse while you can gather up anyone interested in going on this hunt," he said to the demon male.  He had been on many hunts for the queen.  It doesn't take long to find people to help when money is involved.  

 

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Posted (edited)

(And away...we GO! Edited per request.)

Day 1-

It started as an afternoon like any other.

The old house outside of Casper had developed some renown by that point in the history of things.  Within that house lived an esteemed Elven blacksmith and his lovely wife, Magdalene.  They lived together in peace with one another and the rest of the world proper.  But fate...sometimes was cruel.  And intervened in often mysterious and disastrous ways.  Velindrel was outside gathering supplies from the wild lands outside when it happened...It was slow at first.  He'd been chopping wood.  He was always good with his hands...always had been.

The feeling was subtle at first.  But then it became a splitting migraine headache much like a few other points in his life.  They happened more often those days...the headaches and the nightmare visions he often had in their wake.  During those times he often thought of the daughter that was taken from him and his wife...their only child.  As a result of the loss, Velindrel had become barren.

The migraine intensified and he dropped his hatchet on the ground.  He fell to one knee...something was happening to him.  What...the fuck is this...? That something that was happening was new, it was ampliifed version of the horrible visions he'd been having for many moons prior.  When his mind cleared...he saw it.  There was a void that appeared as though it was the great beyond...

***

When Velindrel came to, he was surrounded by a small group of...Elves.  Almost every other place he had ever been to, his people were a race that kept to themselves, they hardly ever gathered in large groups.  Large enough to form a city or a settlement.  But this was an entirely different thing for Velindrel to see.  They spoke in High Elvish to him...somehow...Velindrel understood on an intrinsic level what they were saying to him, his people.  They had the tell-tale sings of their pointy ears.  

(Translated from High Elf Tongue) "A gateway...a door...ripped open and you came out...gave us quite a scare."   The older Elf helped Velindrel stand.  

He nodded towards the fellows.  "I am not really sure what happened."

Whispers of amazement from the gathered.

The old man looked at Velindrel.  "You have been called to us likely by an outside source.  However, I recognize the symbols on your signets. and clothing.  Come talk to me later on, I will tell you of the clan you came from more than likely."  The man said with a smile.

"It shall be so."  Up ahead, there was a large tree he felt a profound peace from.   He looked at the tree and the gathered folks nearby.  He wasn't sure why he was summoned there but he had...he sighed and looked at the older man.  "If you don't mind I'd like to have that talk with you now, I am not really sure why I am here I am just a blacksmith.  I am no Hero."  Velindrel told the old Elf.

Edited by Ganu_Candali

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Eyes snapping open from the luxury of sleep, Rysorian Kadje looked to the portal that ripped open just yards away. Bright, blinding blue, the gateway fluxed, pulsed, and with a final spasm disgorged the unconscious form of another elf. With gasps, shouts for a healer, and agitated whispers, the farmers and harvesters of demons and elves gathered around the newcomer. Fortunately, he didn’t seem injured.

Quickly disinterested, Rysorian closed his eyes again, leaning back against the majestic tree’s massive trunk, nestled against jutting roots. It had been an uncomfortably warm day for him, and he much preferred the snow and ice of a home that he had left, far away in another land. But that land had hated memories, memories he preferred to leave in favor of this small continent where no one knew him, and no one had interest in him. It was better that way.

He didn’t quite hear, then, the exact details of what one of the elves said. Something out a woman, and in the same few breathes about payment and money for the danger involved in finding her. It was enough for Rysorian to unfold his tall, lean body and stand, looking toward the slim, wiry man who had ridden up on a fine horse. He glanced at the one he knew in passing as Skacharm while the demon presented the picture to the newcomer. It really seemed like no help was needed… which meant easy pay.

Rysorian approached the stranger, the horseman whose eyes looked depressingly hopeless. How long had he been searching for the woman? How many false leads? How many close calls?

He didn’t really care.

Rysorian moved with a grace known only to skilled dancers, with an odd, curious aura about him that flowed and flexed with a restrained tension, almost as if he was furiously angry. He didn’t look like much, he appeared to be a human, dressed in dark grays and white. Still, his eyes were inhumanly dead, almost lifeless as he spoke with a flat voice.

“Looking for someone, I see. If you’re paying, I’d say you could use my help.” Rysorian gestured behind his back, where there were strapped two long knives in easy reach.

“I come from Genesaris, from the… Imperial… South,” he said. His teeth gritted before loosening. “You should know we who live there are not easy to kill.”

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Igni sat on the outskirts of town, under a pavilion the locals had erected for her, watching as the little humanoids chattered about tending their crops and cattle. She had landed several weeks prior much to the terror of the locals, though as soon as they found out the corpulent dragon was friendly, they welcomed her with open arms. Something about wild beasts attacking at night, though she hadn’t seen any. Perhaps her mere presence had been enough to dissuade them.

Igni was a blob with wings, covered in fur like a red panda, more rolls of fat than a bear ready for hibernation. How she was still able to fly was anyone’s guess, though “magic” was probably the most accurate response. Even walking should have been impossible at her size. She wasn’t particularly long, for a dragon. Perhaps fifty feet or so, but her waist (if you could call it that) had to be more than that around. The villagers in their gratitude had been keen to make sacrifices to her, as payment for her services as town guard or out of worship of her as a god, she wasn’t sure, and over the last few days her tonnage had increased despite her already impressive bulk.

But a village could only sacrifice so many cattle or sheep before the villagers began to fret, and Igni had seen that now, in the askew glances from the demons working the field. They had no more to feed her. It was time to move on.

The little group towards the center of town seemed interesting. Igni’s batlike ears twitched with curiosity, picking up snippets of conversation. She tried to appear disinterested, stretching lazily, causing the fuzzy rolls on her neck to bunch up and extending her claws outward. Then she stood, a haze of magic making her fur stand on end for a moment as she was picked up by magical forces and placed gently on her feet. Then she began the arduous process of waddling over to the newcomers.

Somehow walking had become harder since she tried it last. Several weeks of pampering had made her heavier, and she had to force a little more magic just to keep the limbs moving about her enormous belly. She was black on the underside and red over her back, with white markings on her whiskered face, and arrived just in time to hear the tall, angry-looking man say:

On 5/12/2020 at 11:42 AM, The Hummingbird said:

“I come from Genesaris, from the… Imperial… South,” he said. His teeth gritted before loosening. “You should know we who live there are not easy to kill.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” she said, a playful smile playing over her face, large blue eyes twinkling with humor she was keen to share.

Edited by Venus Sprite

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Far, far, far, far, far too much magic in this place for Briars taste. Every time she'd feel the thrum of it against her senses, rubbing against her like a cat, she would shudder. It disgusted her. Despite the waves of oily nausea magic brought on, this did little to dampen her ever-growing appetite. The corners of her mouth dragged down into frown as she emerged from the woods, her stomach having announced her presence a good few moments before she became discernible among the shadows.

A woman with a gentle face but a killer set of horns made a sound of alarm, dropping the basket she was holding to rush over to Briar as soon as she saw her. Naturally her response was to go on the defensive, retreating a few steps while being mindful of the snaking roots waiting at her feet to trip her. The lady stopped a safe enough distance away, gesturing for Briar to come closer, away from the forest.

"Satanta, it's not safe. Come. Come." 

Say-wha-ha?

Having little clue what the lady was on about, Briar looked around to see if anyone else was the least bit concerned with the goings on. Everyone else seemed to be minding their own business, so she went to dismiss the lady, but when she looked back the woman had gotten a lot closer, taking hold of Briar's arm firmly. Making a sharp sound of protest, she allowed herself to be dragged a little way away before feigning a trip as they past another cluster of roots. Falling into the woman, Briar then deftly snaked her hand into her pockets and retrieved something that felt metallic and valuable. Slipping that into her own pocket, she apologised and took off, since she was heading the opposite way to the forest it seemed the lady was content to let her go.

Thinking that no one had seen what she had done, she made her way towards a cluster of buildings, almost out of the fields when that dreaded cry sent a jolt through to her core.

"Thief!"

She didn't even turn to see if they were meaning her, it seemed a risky waste of time. Jumping nimbly over a crouched worker, she ran for any cover she could find to try and lose any possible pursuers. Briar ran and climbed walls until her nails cracked and she thought she might faint. They could of at least let her eat breakfast first. After a while she sprinted around a corner, fairly sure she was no longer being pursued, she managed to catch a brief glimpse of a large tree before her vision swam and descended into unrelenting darkness. She hit the ground none too gracefully, unconscious, the pocket watch rolling free from her cloak.

Edited by Moonbay

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YANTpUd.pngHe gently patted the hand settled comfortably in the angle of his arm. The delicate creature extending from the hand was not an invalid, meaning she did not need the extra help being provided by the gentleman at her side. Such gestures were the aftereffect of the companionship she had provided him. Years ago, the woman had grabbed him by the scruff, dragged him from the pits of alcoholism, and made him into someone worthy of the title she had bestowed upon him.

It was because of this woman he is alive (unfortunately sober) and doing well for himself. The gig, as he calls it, is protecting her with his life for however long it lasts. At first, the idea repulsed him, living for another was never his kind of ideal. Now, looking down upon her, he would give much to ensure her safety, though he hopes it isn't his life first.

This is not love. He does love her, just not the kind of love you read about in those terrible stories about bodyguards falling in love with their charge. If he were that type of man, he may love her in that way, or if she were a man. Rohini could write sonnets about the way her red hair flowed down her shoulders and back like a fiery river. Poetry about her opal eyes that far outshone any gem found in this hateful world, and so on. He won't, though.

"It's hot," he says, the complaint strained with his displeasure.

"Well, that's what happens when you slither out of the shadows, Rohini." That answer earned her a tsk of annoyance. "But it's beautiful, is it not?"

He stopped them so they could look over a glimmering lake. Beyond it was rolling fields being cared for by tender loving hands. He wasn't sure if he would call this beautiful, more peaceful than anything else. Some feet to their left, he saw a gathering about a large tree, and just outside that more people. The sounds of life are really hefty here, making him feel not at all at ease about bringing her to this place. Sure she had demanded he take her here, but she hasn't once explained to him why.

Reaching over with his free hand, he pulled the hood of her cloak down. They weren't hiding from anything specific, but he didn't want people to get too curious about the royal on his arm. Gods, that wasn't easy, though. She stood too confidently; her pretty chin often thrust high in the air, her eyes always fixed on things of import. Her red hair still peeked from beneath its covering, and her attire said, 'I'm financially secure, how about you?'.

"What's wrong, Rohini?" Her question dripped with concern, but her opal eyes gleamed with some mischief.

Glaring at her, he responded in hushed tones. "You know, we're not dressed to blend in. You made me dress up in the Kalopsia attire and in the royal house colors of Nehalen. Are you trying to stick out?"

Her wide smile was enough to make him roll his eyes and sigh heavily. She is up to something.

"I'm not the type of gentleman to hit a blind woman, but you really bring that urge out of me."

Areille's response was a loud laugh.

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Eli Warren was tired. He was tired of being hungry. 

"We're like starving artists," he muttered, "without the art..."

"More like fasting monks," Mads retorted, "without the religion."

"Hungry street urchins, but we're adults."

"Ha. I like that."

"Thanks."

They were actually mercenaries. At least, most of the time they were. When they lacked a contract, they tended to fit more with aimless vagabonds and, true to form, this was where they fell now. Mads stretched in the grass before him, her wiry body managing to contort and bend in ways that scared him. He sat cross legged on the grass and watched her show off. Her hair was short, blonde, and chopped at the shoulder. She'd cast aside her leather armor for ease of motion. He kept his on, not very eager to get comfortable. A heartbeat later, Mads' stomach growled louder than ever as she tried to stretch her legs. He chuckled, but stifled the sound when she glared at him. 

She was certainly pretty. However, he knew her rather well. And he knew that the job they'd chosen made things tricky when it came to forming attachments. No, she was off limits. It was for the best. 

"Where's the damn golem?" she asked as she got up. They were resting in a field right now, not too far from the town. Eli rose to join her, handing her the gear before he picked up his weapons. He shook his head at her question, shrugging. 

Two mercenaries and a stone golem. His troupe was certainly unconventional, but they made do most of the time. He looked around, squinting. In the distance he saw the golem's hulking figure as it stood next to a patch of flowers. A starving artist would certainly kill for a scene like that, but Eli was uninterested. "Merindas!" he called. "To me! We need to find food, then get to the job."

He and Mads began to walk, confident that the golem would catch up eventually. They'd headed all of this way in search of a contract, and he was eager to get it started. Missing persons were tricky to figure out, and he wasn't a great detective on the best of days, but he could certainly lend a hand...for a fee. 

"Malia was young when they lost her," Mads said after some time. "How likely is it that this search will end happily?"

Eli glanced at her, knowing how personal this topic was. "We're not heroes. Not our concern." 

She laughed at that and he bristled. "You're the one who needs to be reminded of that." It was true. He was the softest of the guild, and the bleeding heart of the trio. Still, Eli wasn't an idiot. According to word of mouth, Malia had been gone for quite some time. He hoped expectations would be kept low. A few moments passed and they were in the town. 

"THIEF!" 

Eli put his hand on his sword hilt, whirling in the direction of the call. He couldn't see who had yelled, but he could definitely see a young girl peeling off. He sighed and scratched the back of his neck, looking over at Mads and Merindas, who had just caught up and now towered over them both. "We're headed to that big tree. I did want food, but I'd honestly rather get started." The two nodded and fell in line. It took some time, but eventually they found their destination. He barely glanced at the tree and made his way toward the people gathering there, nearly stepping on an unconscious person. Weird place. 

"Are you all here for the job?" he asked loudly. 

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Skacharm finished loosening the straps to his horse saddle, took a cloth and rubbed off the sweat from the horse's flanks leaving darker patches on the horse's black hair. After the horse had begun to drink the water provided, he finally put his full concentration on those around him.  He could see a group of elves not too far away, and they seemed excited about something.  They weren't looking toward him, so he had to assume it wasn't from his arrival.  He made a mental note to keep an eye on the group.

Skacharm is not a tall man. He's actually very short for an elf, at only five foot eleven inches. For most males this made them feel insecure, like they had a disadvantage from not being a taller size. He did not feel that way. He didn't rely on the physical for strength. He was well versed in the art of magic. That was his main strength.  He was approached by another male who seemed secure in himself too. He seemed to be a warrior, and asked about payment for looking for someone. Then he showed off the knives behind his back. This was just the type of male he needed on the search. Someone who would be able to take care of himself, and would be useful on the hunt for the queen.

On 5/11/2020 at 8:42 PM, The Hummingbird said:

“I come from Genesaris, from the… Imperial… South,” he said. His teeth gritted before loosening. “You should know we who live there are not easy to kill.”

Before Skacharm could answer he was interrupted by a large dragon creature, asking the warrior with the knives if that was a challenge. “Uhh,” his eyes looked between the beast and the man for a moment before ignoring the winged creature to respond to the male. Skacharm gave him a curt nod, “That's exactly the type of person I need in the hunting party, someone hard to kill.” He didn't want to feel responsible for saving someone else's life when his job was to save Malia. He turned away from him after that sentence, knowing he had at least one person going on the hunt. He could find out names later, after more were gathered.

He turned just in time to see a female pass out on the grass beside the Tree of Memory. Something rolled from her pocket, and he was about to go to her aid when another male stepped up and asked if everyone was here for the job.

A faint laugh was heard in the distance, and Skacharm froze. He'd heard that laugh before.

“Uh, yes, my friend. This is the place to seek a job. If you wouldn't mind, could you see the well being of the maiden in distress at your feet?” He asked in a strained voice, before he slowly turned to the sound of the laughter.

He walked toward the couple standing not too far away, both dressed royally and mostly alone. He saw the red hair peeping from the cloak, and he was sure he recognized her.

“Areille?” he asked hesitantly. His pace slowed as he came closer.

In the other direction a group of demons were heading to the Tree of Memory, all of them being led by the demon who'd seen the picture. The hunting party was gathering together, and Skacharm knew he didn't have much time to socialize. But it would be the height of rudeness not to say hello to the woman that he was almost engaged to.  

@Ganu_Candali @The Hummingbird @Venus Sprite @Moonbay @Aleksei @ticklefarte

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Posted (edited)

(Note: from now on I am legit making up my own NPC's going forward.  Also I am taking some liberties with the forge and going for a thing here.  The forge is just one of the older more abandoned ones.  Not necessarily THE forge hahah.)

As the adventure party gathered all around, Heroes of all nations, skill sets and backgrounds...Velindrel realized how useless to them he felt.  He sighed at that point and looked up at the tree.  It felt good though to be around so many Elves and races of other origins and backgrounds...Magdalene would have also liked to see that.  He turned towards a nearby onlooker.  He was an Elf of this or that clan and heritage and had fair skin.  Velindrel nodded politely to the fellow.  If he was going to be of use to the gathered Heroes, he was going to have to offer his trade to them.  "Forge? Where is it?" Velindrel asked of the man.

The other Elf blinked.  "Nobody's used it in some time, but its yonder.  Help yourself if you are a 'smith."  The Elf said and nodded.

Velindrel shook the fellows hand politely and walked off towards the forge...his home away from home.  Others were Heroes and skilled with this or that power, this or that weapon.  His was the skill of the forge and the blacksmith's anvil.  He spotted the old forge building, all but completely abandoned.  "Hello ladies."  He said to the familiar scent of an old run down furnace, and the an anvil that had seen better days.  I have to make this place useful to the Heroes of this journey.  It was time to go to work.  Given The Maester's run down old furnace at the time, he'd seen similar conditions before.  Rather than risk blowing the town up by accident because of a furnace explosion the muscular elf, removed his vest, placed it on a nearby chair and walked towards the furnace.  I'm good with my hands...I always was...  Velindrel entered immediately in a self induced his trance like state as he broke off from the adventure party to do what he did best...fix things.

By the third hour, he had the furnace up and running at full capacity.  Onlookers could hear the racket of the old forge and looked on in wonder.  Velindrel was sweating by the point, he worked hard an the heat of the furnace was always a welcome sensation against his well chiseled physique.  He was muscular for an Elf where most Elves were often built more lithe but not puny by any stretch of the imagination.  Velindrel was built more like a brawler type, but his muscles came from working the anvil most of his adult life.  He had a few notable scars on his person which a few were questionable seeming by how deep they appeared.  Every strike of the anvil, every movement he made around the forge was deliberate, with a purpose, almost like watching a couple on the dance floor waltzing.  His eyes narrowed calmly as he concentrated, he looked out the window and saw it was late in the day by that point.  He'd obtained a few orders placed from curious locals who were wondering what the hell that daft Elf was up to.

He was more than delighted to help...for coin of course.  No freebies ever for someone from Casper.  But the ones who would be helped for free would be the Hero party who gathered at the tree.  He almost envied those great Heroes...he would never be one himself.  Casper citizens were business types at heart, and loved to haggle.

Edited by Ganu_Candali

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Eli blinked, and turned around. The girl was laid out in the grass, and might well have been dead if not for the rise and fall of her back. He gave his team a shrug and approached the unconscious girl, falling to his knees as he placed a callused hand on her back. "Ma'am?" 

His gaze slipped from her to something shiny a few feet to the side. Frowning, Eli reached for it and found that it was a pocket watch. People still used these? The sun caught the metal casing and caused it to glint brightly. He looked at his reflection in the glass of the clock within. Black skin, short hair, and a sad face. The time seemed right, and he had broken his watch recently. Eli pocketed the trinket and looked back at the girl, now more than a little concerned. She hadn't stirred. "Does anyone know her?"

Merindas approached him, the earth thudding with each heavy footfall. Eli glanced at him.

"Is she dead?" the golem rumbled. 

"No, but she might as well be. Kinda concerned, kinda not. I found a nice watch." He nudged the girl again, hoping to gain some kind of response. 

 

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Icy, pale green eyes slowly shifted to land on the… dragon? At least, Rysorian thought it might be a dragon. It was fat – amazingly fat, an overgrown lizard that just happened to have wings now too pathetic to lift it. He’d heard of her and seen the sacrifices given to her in the form of overfed cattle or sheep. What a sickening display of gluttony and overindulgence this overweight lizard was.

While her comment to him seemed light and perhaps friendly, he was unable to curb the hostility he felt day to day, and glared at her as if she had eaten his firstborn son. Still, he answered, his voice between a growl and a snarl.

“It is not a challenge, merely fact.”

He then returned the short, terse nod to Skacharm, who already was turning, apparently bewitched by some fancily dressed whore. There was a tussle going on nearby, it looked like, with claims of a thief now lying comatose on the grass. His sharp observation skills caught another pocketing a fallen pocketwatch, gold and shiny and obviously stolen. He rolled his eyes tiredly. All people, elves, demons, and humans – they were all the same.

He finally turned back to the fatty.

“What, pray tell, are you supposed to be?” I can’t tell under the rolls of fat.

@Venus Sprite

 

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Slowly the blanketing darkness ebbed away from her mind, lighting the way back to consciousness and the pressing sensation of something nudging at her body. With a groan she reluctantly opened her eyes and spat the dirt from her tongue, blades of grass adhering to her cheek. Pushing herself up into a sitting position, she closed her eyes against the protests of her stiffened joints, it was only when she re-opened them that she noticed her company for the first time.

With her vision still a little hazy, Briar thought at first that she might be mistaken when she noticed the looming golem blocking out the sun, but after a few seconds when the illusion didn't clear away there was little she could do but come to accept it, less she have a concussion from her fall. Turning her attention to the others present, she discreetly moved her hand to feel the pocket where she had stashed the watch, inwardly sighing when she felt its absence.

Silently she got her feet beneath her, watching the strangers with as much caution as she could considering the world was spinning rather aggressively. Stumbling a step before she caught herself and regained her balance, she pointedly ignored the loud grumble of her very unhappy stomach, too busy trying to not get motion sick. 

Mercifully things settled leaving behind a dull but consistent headache. Briar would wait for one of the strangers to speak first, still feeling very unsure of the gathered bunch she assumed were together. Now that things were more than coloured blurs, she also took note of the other strange gathering of characters not too far off, wondering what was going on.

@ticklefarte 

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Posted (edited)

"Looks to me like this is gonna be a tough job. Lots of moving parts." He snapped his attention back to the woman as she began to move, eager to get on with things. "Ah," Eli said triumphantly, "that is a relief. Welcome back, miss." 

He rose and offered her his hand for leverage. Even though she looked heavy, he was muscular, welcomed a challenge, and was sometimes a gentleman. 

He then turned to the golem. "Merindas, stay with Mads, yeah? I don't want her causing trouble. You know how she gets when she's hungry." While the construct lumbered off, Eli turned to the girl. "Eli, Mads, and Merindas. We're here for a missing person's job.  You, ma'am, look like you need a doctor." He heard her stomach growl and nodded sympathetically.

"I see. You must be a mercenary too. Ours is a tough life, isn't it?" 

 @Moonbay

Edited by ticklefarte

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Posted (edited)
8 hours ago, The Hummingbird said:

“What, pray tell, are you supposed to be?” I can’t tell under the rolls of fat.

“A hunter, it would seem,” Igni said, her voice deep like thunder but sing-songy, taking no apparent offense at the lanky dancer’s disgust. “I am Igni. Something of a dragon, though obviously not the scaly, egg-laying type.”

She raised her head on what would have been a long, slender neck, if she didn’t wear rolls of fat about it like a scarf. Still her corpulence did nothing to reduce her height. Even with her forelegs on the ground her head reached a good feet into the air. “You’re going on a hunt?” she said, echoing the blonde elf’s choice of phrase, but speaking to the angry dancer as the blonde one had wandered off. “What are you hunting? I will come with you. I could do with a little more entertainment than these poor farmers can provide.”

She plonked her heavy behind down onto the grass, making the ground shake and causing a little gust of wind to rustle the grass about her. Then she lay down on her shoulder, so now her enormous blue eyes and whiskered snout were at about the same height as everyone else’s. For the moment she was content to watch the little people come together. It would be interesting to watch how strangers established a common goal and a hierarchy.

Edited by Venus Sprite

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@Mickey Flash

YANTpUd.pngRohini was in the middle of pestering the young lady for answers when Skacharm approached them. A strange uneasiness wafted through the air, making Rohini turn to the approaching figure first. Citrine's eyes glowed slightly in response to the familiar face; some time ago, Areille was almost given to this man in marriage, but certain circumstances made such an engagement nearly impossible. He wasn't sure if the young lady was relieved or annoyed by the happenings, she has barely spoken about it.

Giving their company one final glance, he looks down at his charge and immediately sighs. The young lady has already thrown back her hood, revealing her delicate features to the entire world. Her red hair was unbound, so it was set free to dazzle and shimmer against the warm sun's touch. What made him stand guard was how she immediately brightened towards Skacharm.

"Your Grace, it's a pleasure to see you once again," she said, her accent coiling around her words.

Letting Rohini go, Areille approached Skacharm. The smile spread across her face was welcoming; it could nearly melt ice it was so warm.

Once upon a time, someone had taken their time to describe Skacharm to her. They said he was handsome (a given, considering his position) and tall, two items that will always catch your attention. She had been interested in the man because her mother would not have handed her child to anyone useless nor worthless. Skacharm was and is a mystery. Their brief encounter was never enough to sate her curiosity.

"It has been too long since we've met. Something was telling me to visit you and see how you fair."

Rohini lowered his gaze, an attempt to avoid the unfolding conversation. Areille has never had the luxury of having a private moment with anyone her entire life, and he wants to crawl in a hole every time he thinks about it. It's practically impossible for him to move away from her; as a sworn protector, it is his job to ensure she's safe. In this circumstance, the best he can do is avert his eyes and allow the two to speak, all the while keeping relatively close.

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