The legacy [Ethan, PM to join]

[Tarot]

Timestamp: Summer of 509 AV
Location: Somewhere on the road between Syliras and Zeltiva

He staggered, knowing he had not much longer to live. He was spilling his life juice on the road, one drop at a time, the arrow still sticking out of his back. The cloaked man was a professional, and could tell when a wound was lethal. This one was. He knew full well, but still could not help but run, try to stay alive. When it came to this, people were irrational. They kept fighting to the very end.

For the cloaked man, though, the end was in sight. He stumbled for the last time, and fell face down. This was it. He knew he would not stand again, his body would not let him. He had known the risks this job entailed, but the reward had been very appealing and in the end his greed had bested his wisdom. It would not be called gambling if people won all the time, after all.

He wished he would chance upon a Knight in his last moments, but they rarely ventured this far south on any regular basis. The thing that bothered the cloaked man the most as he died was that his enemies would lay their hands on the very thing he had died stealing. The cloaked man was a professional, after all. He liked the idea of a job well done.

And so, a cloaked man died on the road to Zeltiva, still clutching the leather bag that meant so much to him.

[Ethan Blackfoot]

Ethan had been planning the trip to Zeltiva for a while. He had wrapped up his pack and had set out in the morning, and he prayed that he could grab a couple of books and inks he might be able to increase his luck and fortune. The day had been bright and the walk was doing Ethan good, he remembered the trips that his mother had dragged him on. She needed various metal shavings and herbs for her ink supply. Besides it was always a chance to see new people and perhaps learn a few things.

Feeling overjoyed at the venture and Ethan began to sing.

“Sunshine Lady,
color of sunshine in your hair.
Happiness is the gown you wear.
I would follow you anywhere,
my sunshine lady.

Spread a little light around,
sunshine lady.
Isn’t it true?
I love you, la da da daa.
Spread a little love around,
sunshine lady.
You are the one
who lights up the sun."

Ethan was happy and didn’t care that his voice carried an awful tune, and as he crested a hill he saw that there seemed to be a man in the middle of the road. Ethan stopped singing and quickly went to the man side. Ethan examined the man try to find a wound, he saw the leather stack, but instead of thoughts of greed, he placed the stack to the side and focused upon the man.

[Nya Winters]

"Oh good. Now we won't have to catch dinner." She asked casually as she walked up, poking the wounded man with a toe and glad Ethan had stopped singing. It wasn't that he had a bad voice or anything - it was actually pretty good. What worried her was what singing would do. It attracted notice. Nya didn't like to be noticed. It wasn't in her nature. And although she'd trailed Ethan casually, she'd done so as silently as possible and decidedly not upon the road he traveled. So she was close when he came upon the soon-to-be corpse and decidedly wasteful use of food.

The man looked wounded to her, past the point of healing or medicine.. but that didn't really remotely interest her. Instead she wondered what caused the wounds. Letting Ethan attend the fallen man, Nya shouldered her pack more firmly and glanced around. She quieted herself mentally and then slipped off the road once more, well intending to scout a big circle around Ethan and the fallen, especially forward, and see what it is she could learn.

Nya wanted to go as a Forest Cat, but she'd long ago learned the lack of clothing upset most humans. She didn't want to store her gear as well if there was a possibility of loosing it or being involved in a fight. She didn't have weapons and wasn't armed, but that was her best surprise defense. If there were brigands on the road, if they captured her, they'd be in for a nasty surprise if they wanted to do anything besides run her through with steel. She liked that element of surprise - wherein a woman without gear and clothing in the woods would be suspect.

So, she scouted forward in a large circle and looked for what might cause the man's distress while Ethan tended to him. "I'll be back in a few minutes. I want to make sure nothing unpleasant is up ahead."

Nya didn't really know why she was following Ethan. He was interesting to her, and someone she'd met in Syliras. Plus he was traveling through the wilds, a dangerous place for a man alone. Nya had figured she'd follow him on the ten day trip to Zeltiva, make sure he got there okay, then turn back for Syliras and her territory to go kick out anything that had tried to claim it while she was gone.

But, turning her senses to the road, she scouted, alert for sights, smells, even sounds that weren't familiar and were potentially dangerous.

[Tarot]

The cloaked man was not breathing, and had no pulse. It was immediately clear to Ethan that he had all the makings of a dead man. He was obviously past the ability of any healer to help, his eyes open in the last struggle for life. He was wearing sturdy travelling clothes, suitable for the outdoors, and he looked like he had spent the past few days - or more - in the wilderness. His cloak was encrusted with mud and blood, and an elaborate arrow was sticking out of his back. The thing looked like the product of a remarkable fletcher, crafted with care from expensive materials. And black feathers.

The leather bag felt somewhat heavy as Ethan moved it around, but made no particular sound.

Meanwhile, Nya had taken it upon herself to scout the road ahead. It turned out to be a wise choice. Almost immediately, the Kelvic's nostrils were invaded by foreign smells... wild ones, not those of the Humans but nothing she could attribute to animals, either. It was feral, and excited, but tainted by that peculiar malice that an unthinking beast can never harbor in itself. Two gusts of breeze brought it all to her, the second stronger than the first.

The grass by the roadside (tall, but not tall enough to conceal a grown man) rustled suspiciously not far from her, and a cry was heard by both of them that could only be described as one of triumph and a promise of violence. The high-pitched shrill carried no words in any known language, but its intentions were painfully clear. A head peered from the grass, revealing a short naked humanoid creature. Modeled after a man, it smelled of flesh and earth; it was the former but had been spawned by the latter, and it still had rocks embedded in its skull. Its round red eyes were wide open and bloodshot as its face split in a grotesque grin.

These things, if either of them had ever met them before, were called Yukmen. While their existence was ancient, their numbers had grown like never before. Someone said they were Mizahar's revenge on people for letting something like the Valterrian happen to it. And, they were rarely alone.