Closed [Northern Wilds] Wild Hunters

[Fallon]

26th Summer 514 AV
Morning

It was already warm, too warm for her liking. But that was the curse of the summer sun and what came with it. Sure, the longer days and the increase of light and good weather was one thing - but did the heat really have to come along with it?

For a while Fallon simply stood at the meeting point. There were a few other mercenaries already mulling about, the faint neighing of horses and their owners trying to convince them to hush. Pack animals and cart pullers for such an excursion, carrying their loads of supplies for the days they would be out facing the elements - along with the distinctive shape of chains and other binding equipment. Among those, the more organised of this group filtered between - the leading party of three Daggerhands and a few other men of coin. Not that she had a clue as to who exactly they were within that particular syndicate - she would no doubt have to curve her mind on the subject of learning their names. More so in the case of the bigger, higher ranking ones.

She missed Orvin, no doubt if he had been present he would have been padding his way around her, his head sweeping to and fro as he took the changing scene in and make some sense of it. Curious almost in what was there and attempting to understand it. She would have done the same, and in her own way she was. Eyes flickered back and forth taking in the many new faces in one location, and resisting the urge to stare menacingly at the chains - almost as if they had a life of their own. It was the gloved hand that gave a scratch upon the back of her head, the low soothing words barely escaping in her own murmur of control before she turned her attention to the other hand that was presently occupied with a set of horse reigns and the holding of the creature in place. Animals were everywhere - and it was perhaps only then that she momentarily considered that she was out of her league with such creatures.

Eyes drifting up to the horse Javil, its own share of supplies and equipment strapped onto its back and saddle. Her own pack with the necessities in. With a chew upon her lip she watched the scene before her carefully. She had carefully selected members within the Scars herself - or tried to at least - informing them of this opportunity not only for work, but what they could also do in such a time period. Slavery, or more over the undermining of it. Releasing was one thing - but dealing with the traders of flesh was another situation all together. The mental list flickered in her mind, gathering and bringing together.

Symbols, names, people of power, the marks and ways to distinguish them. They needed to be able to step into the slavers' circle, breath the air they breathed, watch the flow and where they picked things from. Understand the people and how they ticked, what did they do to achieve their goals? There was a deep inhale, her eyes sweeping across the faces as she tried mentally put them together, and the gradual weighing up of who was who in the mercenary world - or more correctly who not to upset. She would need to be guarded on this, to be able to keep her emotions under control for this excursion - and the ability to achieve that worried her slightly. One wrong move would cause things to crumble in an instant.

Sucking in the air she gave a glance down to the ground, it was not just the test of them as a unit and how they worked together, but their breaking points as individuals. Her jaw tightened for a moment, her gaze sweeping again across the unit and once more counting the numbers. She was still waiting for those she had dropped the message to, the last couple of mercenaries needed for such a venture - they knew who they were. Somewhere one of the voices spoke up, a Daggerhand no less barking out his orders for the tasks of the day. Lead out of the city on foot into the Northern Wilds a full days hike away, set up camp and secure the area ready for the main part of the job. It could not be too hard. Fallon let her gaze sweep back to the city, her brow creased as she checked one last time and the mumble of words barely caressed her lips, "Hurry the petch up."

Purchase :

Bedroll 0.1gm
Winter blanket 0.5gm

Total = 0.6gm

[Gideon]

All my time thirsting for water like some mewling infant, I find myself in a land rife with it, and yet now would pay a king's ransom to be in the desert again. Oh how the milk seems richer 'pon the other teat. The thought stirred within him a rueful smile, hand separating the fabric of a white shirt clinging to his flesh round his neck from the sweat seeping out of him. All his time spent in the desert had taught Gideon next to nothing on the effects of humidity. He had decided quickly on his impromptu excursion to the north that he cared little for it, but there was a much larger threat to his sanity than climate change since his arrival. His eyes locked onto one of the menacing little black beasts swirling around his head tauntingly, buzzing in a soft pitched whine that seemed fit for nothing more than to be an insult to his sense of hearing. He might have swatted at it if he knew he had better aim, but it seemed interacting with the creatures only instilled in them a greater fondness for his sun kissed skin. Swirling deftly around him, the winged demon disappeared once more beyond the reach of his peripherals. Setting his attention back to the unsheathed longsword that lay across his lap, Gideon carefully moved a whetstone along its edge in hopes that it, at the very least, would make the blade appear more threatening than it actually was in his untrained hand. The shop owner he purchased it from had showed him how to use it, making the task appear effortless even though it was decidedly not now that it lay clutched between his own three fingers. His brow wrinkled with exhasperation, but determination for the time being still outweighed any desire to give up. "You sharpen that sword like you were stroking your own cock with a stranger's hand." The words were followed by a coarse laugh that belonged to one of the men Gideon had decided he didn't trust since first laying eyes on him. The Sunberthian's voice alone caused the scars circling the desert dweller's wrists to grow cold as though they were still wrapped in irons, a stiff reminder of the severity of his own enslavement not so long ago. But this one approaching him was playing a game of sorts, testing the other for chinks in his armor. It was what all men of his caliber did, and Gideon had been dealing with such men all his life. The shirking of watered stone against metal halted for a moment, eyes still locked on the blade as though admiring his work, ignoring the looming shadow of a man who now stood before him. When Gideon spoke, it was gentle, but ultimately ill equipped to handle the common tongue. "Int'rested in mine cock, Awahtoklo?" Had it not been for an ensuing cunning smile, the other mercenary might have struck him right then and there, but a silence crept between the two long enough to give him pause. It appeared words wished to form on the man's lips, parting and quivering like two worms fornicating. Instead, a toothy grin surfaced, yellow and black with rot that could be smelled by the desert dweller's more delicate senses. Rotten fish and shyke. Through his crumbling teeth the other muttered something unbecoming of foreigners, knuckles popping as his fists squeezed together at his sides. Gideon knew he had already overstepped his bounds, the conversational etiquette of mercenaries from the north decidedly more treacherous than what he knew from the south. He would have to be more careful in the coming days if he wished to keep his neck unslit through the night, gaze carefully watching the other retreat to the company of his friends. Perhaps the desert travelers next course of action would be to find another set of eyes to watch his back. But finding a friend in a group of people he loathed with every fiber of his being would be a challenge Gideon was only vaguely familiar with. Those who employed him back in the sand dwelling cities held practices he, at the very worst, detested. Being made once a slave himself made this scenario more personal, and what he hoped to accomplish by being here, well...that was downright impossible. At least alone. Purchase : Whetstone - 2cm

[Zandelia]

She had been known to infiltrate when required to do so, even committing more carnal acts to get a leg up the ladder - as it were - and achieve her end goals. She had not truly had to do so for a while and the last time had involved the very same collection of scum and human villainy that she was now being asked to work with in the present. Her feelings were mixed on the matter if she were honest. She saw the sense in what was being proposed, mentally understood the reasoning behind it and what was sought in achievement. Yet her heart was rebelling against it, her very soul seeking to find an excuse not to partake. Which was unthinkable, she wasn’t going to let Fallon go alone in this. She was capable but everyone needed someone to watch over them when dealing with slavers.

Slavers! The sooner Sunberth is rid of them the better! she affirmed to herself as she spat at the floor and continued her dogged trudging.

She had had to purchase some new items for the journey, she had lost all of her basic wilderness gear last season in the uproar of what was now known as the Wolf-Bear saga in her own mind. It was an apt name to say the least, promising of blood and battle. With teeth and claws too, though she couldn’t remember if teeth had been used. She was sure they had been but the memories were hazy at best and in some ways had been subsumed under the more promising venture of companionship. She tried her best to ignore the inner monologue of anger and the desire for vengeance as she hefted the bedroll and blanket she was carrying upon her left shoulder. It would not be long now until she would arrive.

“I really hope you know what you are doing Wolf, and that I know what I’m doing come to that” she sighed to herself as she began to enter the hustle and bustle of the party - her companions for the next few days at least.

Looking about she saw precisely what she had thought she would, mercenaries and slavers abounded with a few colors of the Daggerhand dotted about. They were safe for now, they were not known enemies by face and name, yet her palms still itched to murder someone without being noticed. She knew she was likely being invited because she was able to see things differently at times. Her skills in battle had never truly been tested though she would do her best if it came to that. No doubt, in some form or another, it would. Yet, she resolved, only after careful planning and thinking things through. Being trapped in the wilds with people hunting you was not her idea of a vacation. She spied Fallon as she glanced about and began to make her way over to her.

“Hello pretty lady, here to kiss us goodbye eh?” came the sneering tones of a dullard mercenary and she stopped as he approached her and his friends guffawed behind her.

“Nice arse on her Len, could get a good handful there”

“Not to mention those ti-”

“Quiet lads! Lady like this deserve true…appreciation. Good words an tha-” he stopped as she twisted slightly and a dagger was in her right hand and pressing ever so slightly into his groin.

“I’m here to make sure this venture doesn’t get petched up by idiots, not get petched,” she snarled, leaning into his face, “and my arse is mine and mine alone. Try and take it and you’ll lose the ability to take others. Understand?” she purred at him, staring into his eye.

“Right…sure. But don’t forget, the nights can be cold and dark out there. Lotsa predators about and such so yo-”

“So I’ll be on my guard. Let’s get this all done without any unpleasantness yes?” she pulled the dagger away and re-sheathed it, clenching her jaw against the comments behind her about how they liked things to put up a fight.

“I swear, by the end of this trip I’ll be crimson - one way or another. Damned stupid mercenary men and their…wants. Oh hello by the way Bitzer, nice welcoming committee you had set up there,” she said as her tone became slightly warmer and more relaxed, “what’s the plan for this lot then?”

[Kaie]

If there was one weapon the Myrian woman had wished to be better acquainted with, it was the bow. Sure, she'd practiced the weapon in her youth and loosed several arrows in the fray alongside the Ebonstryfe in Ravok, but to say she was skilled would be far from the truth. Half the shots she took soared painfully off course. The ones that did reach their targets seemed to do so by the will of Myri alone and a stroke of luck, and too soon did her quiver always run empty without much to show for it. The gladius that never left her side and the kukri harnessed to her back had proven more comforting. There was something about blades that simply flowed with her style. They required no ammunition and only basic upkeep. More importantly, they lasted for ages. Some clans in Falyndar were known to possess ancient works of decorated steel, which have been passed down from one generation to the next with every succession of a matriarch.

Although Kaie might be hesitant to admit it to one outside her race, there was something intimate about battling in close quarters. Each death felt personal, and it almost seemed righteous to be near enough to see the kill's eyes glaze over as Dira took them. Still, she couldn't doubt the advantage one could find with an arrow pulled back upon a string. Distance became an advantage rather than a hindrance. Enemies could fall long before you could even see the whites of their eyes. Real archers had claimed the mechanical repetition was almost therapeutic. So naturally when the young man stood there with his shortbow, firing off into the forest, the Myrian couldn't help but watch.

"Does your lot 'ave bows and arrows like this 'n your jungle?" He asked without so much as peering over his shoulder at her, before loosing another arrow through the air. The dull, woody thud that followed signaled its successful landing upon a chosen tree trunk deep into the woods. She could hardly see the brown feather fletchings from where she sat upon a rotted log.
"Sort of. The wood is different and the birds' feathers we use for fletching is more colorful, but yes," She answered easily, returning to her butchery. Having arrived far earlier than intended, the Myrian had bidden her time crafting simple twitch-up snares just outside the camp. Just a few chimes ago when she returned to check them, she'd discovered a single hare bouncing helplessly off the ground.

"You're a good shot. Where did you learn?"
"My father, 'e was a 'unter for a good while. Taugh' me when I was a boy. Made me practice when 'e was 'round t' watch. 'Ated the thing for a long time. Now? Can't imagine doin' much else. I was always shyke wit' a sword." Kaie nodded slowly, more focused on holding the dead hare in place upon the log while she ran her kukri down its underbelly.
"He still around?" She asked curiously as she began to pull back the animal's fur, working the knife awkwardly at the flesh just beneath. The young man notched another dull brown arrow on his bowstring and pulled back toward his lips.
"Who?"
"Your father."
"Nah. My old man's been dead for sixteen seasons. Left me when I's still young. Mother's a cheap whore, too. Instead o' livin' wit' tha' stupid bitch a' Brega's I made some powerful friends. 'Sides, I ain't got the money to rent Brega. Seein' that fine piece of ass as oft'n as I would've 'ad I stayed would 'ave just been torture." He released the arrow and it soared seamlessly into another tree trunk, though Kaie supposed he must've set it a bit off course by the way he cursed. Despite her efforts, the hare before her had quickly turned to a gory mess. Her slices had been shaky and uneven, blood leaked out all over the rotted wood that served as her carving board. All she had managed to get right was the removal of the lesser organs, which was still easier said than done.

"First rabbit you ever gut?" The archer asked suddenly. When the Myrian's amber eyes finally flickered up from her word, she was surprised to find him facing her for once instead of a prospective target. He wasn't too bad looking either. No boils like the man she'd first seen toting a mace, no moles, and no gruesome scars but a single white line on his right cheek. His blonde hair came down straight over his forehead but didn't hover too close to his eyes. Upon his jawline and upper lip grew an honest start to a beard that made him seem older than he was, though he was probably hardly a few years ahead of the Myrian herself. When he grinned at her mockingly, she was surprised to find he still had most of his teeth. Even so, her eyes turned to daggers and a coldness entered her eyes.
"Getting the job done, aren't I?"
"Hardly. Migh' as well toss what's left to tha' wolves when you're done. Put tha' thin' on a spit an' no one will even know wha' tha' petch tha' li'l petcher was!"
"Oh, piss off."
"Aw, come on! Jus' a li'l frien'ly a'vice! Alrigh' I'll leave you to it. We'll be needin' a few arrows for the job anyway an' I like a full quiver when I head out. I'll be seein' you, savage," He jibed and turned back toward the forest. Once his previous arrows were gathered he headed back into camp. Kaie on the other hand remained stubbornly to see out her task.

By the time she wandered back toward the snuffling horses and the vulgar profanities shouted by fellow mercenaries, several generous slices of raw hare meat were safely tucked away in a container within her backpack. Blades and leather thumped alongside one another with each step she took deeper into the camp. And though her enslavement and subsequent imprisonment had been short lived but miserable all the same, there was an uneasiness that crept into her consciousness as each set of eyes found the obvious foreigner.

Don't you go forgetting what you'd done with Razkar now, She reminded herself grimly, that right hand always venturing back to the handle of her sword with distrust in those around her. You had a chance to protest against the recapture of the slaves in that cart you saved out past the Bronzed Woods, but like him you let someone else grab a hold of their chains in exchange for gold. No higher power but your Mother's would dare consider showing you mercy if the shackles find you again.

"I should probably find some familiar faces," She muttered quietly and trudged on, hoping to at least find the one that had called upon her if not some of the individuals she had worked alongside a season before.

[Fallon]

Fallon felt Javil pull at the reigns, the horse releasing a nervous snort as one of the other mercenaries came past. He gave her a look up and down, a scowl almost as he considered the armour form, then the weapons that hung off her before he marched off once more to join the rest of his little group. Somewhere beyond was laughter of amusement of a small band sounded out, the toothy grins as they squared themselves up to whoever their latest victim was. The gaze drifted, eyes catching the faint glint of metals within the light, the braying of horses as they were linked up to the cart and secured in place. Dried lips were licked, a flicker down to the filled water skin at her waist as the insults begun to fly. Somewhere beyond the men were beginning to test each other - and soon it would probably be her turn for their blunt ways and Sunberthian etiquette. There was only the shake of the head to the behavior.

A second drift, she ensured her sleeping gear was securely strapped to the saddle before her fingers drifted. Digits ran across the neck, moving down to the halt as she gave it a teasing tug and ensured its security. Somewhere beyond she heard the sound of wolf whistling, a different sort of jeering sounding out and one that caused her head to turn. The horse gave a stamp at the ground, hooves pawing the dried earth as he tried to familiarise himself with the setting and changing scene. Somewhere beyond there was a cry out, the clink of chains as the various leaders tried to rally themselves up. Fingers firmly reached up to the halter to hold the horse in place - worried almost that he would turn skittish at the last minute. The free hand rubbed upon his snout, a low hushing noise escaping from her lips to sooth, "Hush Javil... Hush."

When Zandelia finally sauntered over however, her hand had drifted once more - ensuring the bundle of arrows was firmly secured to the back of the saddle with the de-stringed shortbow alongside them. She barely turned her head to the woman when she spoke, her focus too intent on doing those last vital checks on the buckles. Clearing her throat she focused upon the lower tones of her working accent, "Thought that was you with all the racket coming from that direction. They should know better than to get tangled in your gossamer, Web." There was a curling of the lips, a wiry smile forming, "Because I'm certain you'd wrap them up and not let them go before devouring them." Pulling away, she brushed the side of the horse and gave a gentle pad around to the other side - careful and thought out inspection guiding her, "Pass me your sleep gear, I'll load it on."

Her hand opened to take it, by force or otherwise, before she ensured it was safely tucked away within the saddle bags. She caught the look of the mercenaries that had been eying the woman up before, her eyes narrowing down and her chin almost rising in challenge to them. Her voice lowered, a mischievous gaze flickering across to the woman, "So, I heard your arse was yours and yours alone... More so during the dark, cold nights full of dangerous predators. Is that true?"

She gave a wiry grin, a final tug upon the straps, before letting her gaze once more shift among the people. The rip roar of laughter, the looks of others as she spied the movement. Above the headline she saw a man - the obvious leader of the team - clamber up onto the back of the cart and look to gather the attention of the group. Lungs were cleared, a shout out in addressing them all, "Right you lot! Listen up! We've got a bit of a hike before we get to the meet point. When we get there we need to set up and secure things, establish a perimeter and ensure the stock is kept secure. We're doing a trade off with those who don't want to enter the city proper, chain up, exchange, you get the idea-" Fallon's head turned at that point, counting through the numbers and who existed there. She spied Kaie through the crowd and gave Zandelia a nudge followed by a nod in the general direction, "-Going to be out there for a few days, don't worry though. We've got some pets to keep you entertained," There was an almost on prompt moan then, the few slavers present giving the few chained stock and giving them a firm push, "All in need of a good breaking in." With that the leader gave a point into the general direction of the wilderness, "So let's move out!"

Lips pursed into a line, her hand tightening around the reigns and the knuckles cracking slightly around them. Teeth clenched, the inner seething rising up and bubbling within. She released a hiss, "Get Kaie over here, we're going to be moving out soon and I want to know where she is going to be through this." Swallowing, she gave a pull around, forcing the gaze to shift to elsewhere - the horizon seemed like a promising prospect. Around her there was the grunts of movements, bones and weights shifting as the pickled organisation begun to make a move. Her tongue clicked, eyes looking and searching between the bodies. How many where there? Twenty? More including the chained that were brought along? It was a necessary process she had to work through for them to succeed, and Fallon had a feeling they would need a lot more than just the three of them to achieve the end goal.

[Gideon]

The longer Gideon plied his patience to the task of sharpening the blade's dull edge, the more fluid each stroke became. Ever so slowly the world around him faded away to little more than an ambient hum, until the scraping of metal against stone was all that remained. Its sound flowed through him as sure as the blood coursing in his veins, singing its own melody that resonated deep within his soul. Sharp eyes became lost in the dusky trim, the stone shaping it into a silver-lined instrument capable of severing threads of humanity from the mortal coil. It was not the masterwork he was searching for, the long line of glinting steel a sea of small crests and dips, but it would get the job done--for his intentions, at least. Turning the blade over, he began the process again, more slowly and deliberate this time, mindful of the shavings that peeled away. Gideon knew the value of self sufficiency. He'd lived it his entire life. A smith could have put the longsword to the grindstone and shaped it into a weapon so sharp, one merely had to hold it to receive a crimson ribbon in return. But such a service was not without recompense, and could not be found in the wilds midst the dangers that dwelt there. To learn a skill was invaluable, especially if it aided in keeping one's skin intact. Without thinking, the desert dweller began to hum along with the motion of stone. It was no more than a single note at first, mimicking the grating sound of stone blending into the metal. Yet as it carried on, a song from memory surfaced upon the trembling of his lips. So unintentional was the act that he was barely cognizant of the fact it had risen from his throat, carrying through the camp as little more than a dry whisper in the air. He had neither the talent nor the experience with the art, but something about the grim task he'd set before himself mixed profoundly with the sharpening of his blade. Given the chance to wander, the mercenary's mind was prone to finding dark places first. Luckily for him, it was in the tongue of his native home that the words spilled forth in. Darkness waits for every man Just over the horizon We fail to see the cloak of night One last breath, a debt repaid Dira, Dira, please be merciful No man wishes to die in pain When you come, let it be the dawn Walk this night beside me Eyes had turned to watch him, an audience whose sensibilities seemed gravely insulted by the foreign words spilling from the stranger's tongue. Their attention had become potent enough to draw Gideon out from his state of complacency, sharing quickly in the discomfort permeating their rag-tag band as his eyes met theirs. Clearing his throat, the motion of the stone halted, frozen above the blade until every last one of them decided to return about their business. "Sorry," he muttered, lacking all together any sense of an apologetic tone. No one seemed to care. Returning the whetstone to the rucksack laying on the ground beside him, Gideon reached for the sheath to the longsword and laid it to rest within. Standing up straight, he patted himself free of the clods of dirt still clinging to him, reaching back down to retrieve his belongings. Without horse or friend, more from a combination of personal preference and lack of wealth, the desert dweller was forced to search for other means of transportation. But considering that everyone back in Sunberth might as well have heard him singing like a dying rabbit, Gideon defaulted to the most reliable method of travel he knew, saving himself the trouble of minced conversation. He was fairly certain he could keep up with the carts, unless of course they decided to trample the ground and wake up the entire countryside. Having not scouted the alien lands himself, it was difficult to gauge what perils lay out there. The vegetation alone could keep a great many things well fed. On his way towards the head of the caravan, the foreigner's eyes crossed the paths of two women on horseback in conversation with one another. He might have confused them for the 'entertainment' had it not been for the armaments they bore, brow curiously raised before becoming muted all together. He hoped, for their sakes, that they knew how to use them. The road got lonely out in the wilds after all, and men in this field had certain wants they were brutally efficient in obtaining.

[Zandelia]

“Please Bitzer, I am known to dine upon much finer things than those over there. I doubt they could be of use even if I gave them half of my mind and strength of arm. Their deficits would be barely covered by it” she shrugged off the observation as she handed her bedding over to the woman and inspected the horse before her.

“Should have know you’d have a horse. A gallant warrior indeed, riding to the rescue of a damsel upon the back of your steed. Still, never mentioned it before. I do hope you weren’t hiding him because he has a penchant for gobbling up spiders” she noted as she carefully kept away from the beast.

Horses were not unknown to her but in her experience they had a tendency to not like her overly much. Canines were fine, even wolf canines, but horses…she much preferred the soft soil beneath her boots to a mountain of meat between her thighs. The irony, given her profession and methods, was not lost upon her. Still, if the woman wanted to ride the thing then that was her choice. At least she wouldn’t be the one with a sore arse by the end of the day and that was a minor victory in her ledger. She cast her gaze about the gathering once more. Sell-swords, Daggerhands and some of the dirtiest fighters known to Sunberth she noted. They were in the perfect company if they were looking to get stabbed for dinner. She made a mental note to cut the fingers off of the first one to come and try to get their hands on her - a decent reputation for retribution could go a long way in certain circles.

Still there were some things to be gleaned from observation and she had a role to fulfill. She noted quite easily that though the mercenaries were well armed they were not particularly well armored. Chainmail was infrequent and leather was the majority of protection that she saw. Most were close combat men and women, swords and daggers and maces. There were a few archers about, a crossbow she thought too, but it meant that if they could be eliminated when the times was right perhaps an escape would be easier. It was herder to flee if you were being showered with arrows after all. She listened, noting names and placing them to faces. There was factionalism also, clearly a handful here and there were only working with some of the others due to payment and there was no love lost.

We could sue that if played out right, lead some into fighting with the others and thus weaken the group entirely. Whoever we are meeting will be bringing protection also no doubt. We need to hamstring them all where we can if what I think is going to happen happens she felt a grim mask slip across her countenance, she would truly love to eviscerate some slavers but now was not the time. She was broken from her thoughts by the command, sure and strong.

“It belongs to me yes, though I lend it to others if I so choose. But…as always…life is a two-way dirt path,” she didn’t look at the other woman but smiled faintly as she nodded her head, “I will get her and perhaps find something else too” she tilted her head as her gaze came to rest upon a lone young boy, he had caught her interest initially with his singing but she had been too preoccupied to truly assess him before. And he was looking at them both too, interesting indeed.

She stepped forwards and kept her gaze upon, flickering around to those surrounding her on occasion but watching him as she walked towards their third companion for the journey. He was certainly foreign and as such treated with suspicion. The others gave him a wide berth and treated him with disdain it seemed - they particularly seemed to dislike his singing. Most likely because the words were not common, people hated what they didn’t understand and for good reason. It could get them killed if it were deadly enough. Still a song was not such a terrible thing. She found Kaie quickly and nodded at her. She pointed towards Fallon simply.

“Bitzer would like a word Kaie, it would be best if we stuck together I think. Look out for each other. This trip you will find out just how seriously we take the protection of those we consider our people. Hopefully it will meet with your approval. And payment of course, we will get paid a pretty miza indeed. Come, go to her. I have…another to try and coax” she smiled apologetically and approached the man then after a few moments of consideration.

“A pretty song but not wise when surrounded by those who loathe foreigners more than they hate each other. However, there are those who see value in different perspectives. I will not demand that you follow me, nor will I offer you petty insult by trying to negotiate a price. We are all here for the same things…perhaps. Yet I will say that our little group, over there” she pointed to Fallon again, “well…we see value in knowing that some people can watch over others without caring where they come from or what their blood means” she looked at him long and pointedly then.

“Food for thought…what happens when you are alone in the dark with people who don’t like you. People with swords. I am not much liked either…seems we might have something in common, no? Think it over” she stated simply before turning and beginning to head back to Fallon.

Even if he does not accept right away the words will hopefully give him cause for consideration she told herself as she tried to ignore the slavers around them and resist the urge to murder someone.

[Kaie]

The crunch of gravel, compacted dirt, and leafy debris under her boots was almost soothing. The consistent rhythm was something she could focus on, and far more pleasant than dwelling on the ever unsettling sensation of less-than-friendly eyes upon her back. At first there came the widened eyes of shock in light of her attire. The foulest of minds would prod their neighbor with an elbow and jut meaty thumbs her way. Yet the deeper into the camp she got, the more unwanted attention she received. Those initial expressions of surprise quickly muddled into faces of disdain that ran as deep as any sword. She'd be lying if she said it was a new occurrence. How long had it been again? Three years overseas? Long enough to remember what it was like to be assaulted by the locals' glares. If eyes are windows to the soul, Kaie could tell this lot didn't collectively harbor a lot of good intention her way. The start of an oration ahead at least turned most heads the opposite direction.

The leader's voice carried, she could say that at least. To avoid anymore scrutiny than came by default, the Myrian found a tree to post up against while she listened. Okay, that's not too unfamiliar. A bit of travel in the woods to the rendezvous, some fortifications around the merchandise, and then a purchase. All I'll need to worry about is the edge of my sword and any tricky gradient we might run into...and maybe shoot a few glances over my shoulder, she thought carefully with a subtle nod to herself. Her fingers wrapped around the handle of one of the twin kukri, and with a gentle tug, removed it from the harness for closer inspection. She turned the curved blade slowly out before her, letting the morning glow of Syna glitter across its metallic surface. Absently, her right thumb began to traverse its way back and forth down the length of the edge. As simple as it was, the task somehow turned into one so absorbing. So fascinated did she become in her own weapon that Kaie almost didn't notice a familiar face's advance.

"Web," The Myrian greeted evenly with a reciprocal nod and shoved herself away from the tree to an upright stand. The kukri was fiddled with between her hands before she resolved to returning it back to its harness. Amber eyes followed Web's extended index finger until Bitzer was discovered. At that point, Kaie offered the woman an amicable nod as well prior to settling her concentration of Web's words. Only once did her eyes drift toward her boots as she scuffed one into the soil. "You think right. I have a feeling this lot's just itching to bury a few blades in some backs. Best if it wasn't any of ours. We'll catch up again." With the affirmation came a flash of a momentary grin just before the savage was on the move toward the one who had called upon her in the first place. Several paces into the advance proved troublesome indeed.

The quarrel lodged itself ahead of the Myrian's next step with a solid thud. The bronzed woman froze. Amber eyes settled upon the projectile where it rose from the earth like a spear mounted imperfectly into the belly of a quarry, then shifted rapidly to the right from whence it had come with a fiery rage. Three of them stood there in a loose grouping beside their horses. The first two had been gaping incredulously, visions torn between the bolt and the infuriated would-be-victim. The third in the middle, however, brought his crossbow down upon his thigh with a boisterous laugh and a cruel smirk upon thin lips. The two beside him found themselves tittering along with him, and the others in their vicinity quickly took note of the budding situation. Yet none were prepared for the explosive response fueled by the self-righteous fury of the Myrian.

Kaie lunged at the middle man with a savagery that surprised even herself. The man to his right leaped to his feet just in time to intercept the woman when she was no more than a pace away from her target. The second man followed suit and almost simultaneously they had the copper-skinned female by both her arms. Her vexed Myrian curses fell deaf upon their ears, but her violent thrashing and struggle forward was clear enough. Twice did she manage to pry one arm free to strike one of her subduers, one in which she cracked her elbow upon the second man's nose. All her efforts proved to end in vain, and all the while the crossbowman howled his laughter just barely out of reach.

"Almost didn't see you there, Jungle Bitch. Better start watching where you step," He taunted between breathless gasps as he recovered, patting the weapon with his free hand. The horses at his side stomped their feet nervously and shook their heads. "Take a good long look at her, boys. See that in her eyes? She'd gut us all if she could, roast us over a fat fire for supper while she's at it I'd bet. Don't be fooled by appearances, that's no Human. Her people live in the dirt like animals. Uncivilized. Worthless." A thick hand smoothed itself back across the bald dome of his head as he approached her at a leisurely pace. The leather armor draped loosely over his shoulders was tattered and well worn. The button up cotton shirt beneath fared no better, and half of the red, thorn-ringed dagger tattoo upon his chest remained visible. He leaned in close, unconcerned by the lip-curled snarl upon the Myrian's face, answering it only with a rotten sneer. "Petching Savage." She stabbed forward again with a war cry that nearly broke through her fleshy restraints, and sent the crossbowman stepping back with a surprised snicker.

"Let it go, Myrian," A familiar voice murmured in her ear. Her head turned toward the man on her left that had moved first to stop her from collecting her revenge, only to find the archer. Luckily, it hadn't been him that suffered her wild elbow throw to the face. His right hand clutched her bicep rather forcefully, but the left upon the inside of her shoulder offered a cordial pat."You have to let it go." This time she took her two hands and shoved away from the two men to free herself with a growl. The archer lifted his palms peacefully and neither man made a move to fall upon her again. Kaie gripped the collar of her leather vest and readjusted herself, vengeful gaze lingeringly hotly upon the pleased crossbowman before finding her previous path toward Bitzer. Needless to say, whatever friendly front Kaie had on before the conflict was wiped rather obviously from her face.

"Ran into Web. You wanted to see me?" She asked when she finally reached the woman, voice strained with forced control. Her hands busied themselves by brushing off her shoulders despite the temptation to form hardened fists. An obsession began to bud within her, and almost every fleeting thought eventually found itself centered upon the bald man some distance at her back. It was all she could do just to keep her feet firmly rooted in place.

[Fallon]

Somewhere beyond the eerie song of some foreign tongue sung, beyond the muffled moans and grunts of bodies smothered in the early morning sweat. The clip of horse hooves upon the earth, the pulling of reins as Fallon focused only on bringing the horse forward into a steady walk. She was not about to ride him - her ideas were more along simply lightening the load. Eyes watched, sweeping as she ensured things were secured, a return of the looks that came, narrowed, sharp and calculated. Establishing who was friend or foe was vital at present - who could be persuaded, distracted and who was married to the cause and fixed in place.

Nostrils flared, a pat upon the side of Javil as she carefully lead him forward. Toes pressed into the earth, her chin lifting to look towards the caravan that was taking the lead, with a string of bodies pressing behind it. She heard the chains somewhere, the loud shouts as the owner of them pushed the bound along. It was a wrestle to desensitise herself from it, a deep inhale followed by a slow exhale. In and Out, to steel the core for such things would only grow worse as the day progressed.

"Actually... Beatles and sometimes hair, not spiders," she blinked at Zandelia and spoke in a matter of fact tone, "Besides, I remember doing more falling off of him than actual riding, I was never that good at mounted combat. He makes a good pack horse though. And no, I was not hiding him. More keeping him fed, watered and healthy... in a stable." She shrugged, and promptly focused on keeping step for the meanwhile. Somewhere she could hear the grumbling of men and laughter. Her eyes only followed after the woman as she paced away to the target she had picked out - firstly grabbing the attention of the Myrian and then moving onwards to another. She did not quite see who it was exactly, but she did see the pointed finger and the gesture back to her. There was only a nod in response.

Her attention snatched back to where she last saw Kaie after that, a series of blinks as she search through the sea of bodies. There was only a wince when she watched the burning gaze sweep onto a target, her lips peeling back and her knuckles tightening around the reins. One of the mercenaries laughed, all sneers as they held the upper hand for now at least. And it was perhaps only then that part of Fallon seethed. They did not need to make enemies now, not yet at least - later when they knew what was going on was different. Until then, it was required that they kept their heads down and their focus set on simply watching each other's backs. With a whistling exhale she intently watched the scuffle and inevitable release. Back down, pull back and gather their eyes and minds.

"Making friends I noticed?" She gave a nod towards the mercenaries, her eyes narrowing down upon the bald one before finally lifting, "Bet you'll be good buddies in no time what so ever." Cheeks puffed, a tug upon her collar with her free hand as she focused upon her steps and making distance - they had a long day ahead of them if they were to get to their destination. Fallon's eyes turned ahead, "Wanted to see and make sure you didn't get yourself into trouble. We're not exactly prowling with Sunberth's thugs and chest merchants here." It was with a frown she gave a firm pat upon the snout of the horse, and in return she was given a snort, "Head in a lion's mouth, you know? Regardless, now that I have you here..." She paused when Zandelia finally came back into view, an incline of the head and then a continuation of words.

"You find what you were fishing for Web?" She stole a glance and stepped carefully around a stalling mercenary, all muscle and leathers, focused mainly on hitching up his quiver and ensuring his arrows did not spill everywhere. Archers were something they would have to deal with, unless of course they acted at night. It was foolish to use a ranged weapon in the low light - that much she knew. It was her thumb that gently traced circles, the look of careful thought covering her face, "You do understand why we are here, right?" she paused and shook her head, discarding the thought, "What positions are you thinking on taking up whilst here? Both of you. They're going to need night watchers, chain watchers, horse... you get the ide-"

There was a scream. Every aspect seemed to snap to attention then, shoulder uncurling and squaring off, and her eyes looking for the source. She caught the glimpse of one of the slavers grabbing a filthy slave roughly by the hair, a beg for mercy and another angry shout to push one into submission, "Come on you, filth! Don't you run away now!"
A lump formed in Fallon's throat, a hot, seething exhale as she watched what was unfolding just out of reach. Not that she could have done much about it without drawing attention to herself. She could hear some of the mercenaries snort, the gentle shoulder barging as the fingers begun to point and the jeers begun to rise. The slaver however was still set on grasping the slave, at least until he let out his own yelp with the rough sound of scrabbling chains, "You... Little bitch bit me!"
"Grab her! Break her legs!" Shouted one of the mercenaries. Fallon felt the Javil strain, a nervous stamp against the floor, a growing reluctance to move. She felt the pull upon the reins followed by a low whine, and set to grabbing it with both hands firmly out of fear he would suddenly rear up and bolt. Her eyes darted, looking towards the far edge of the group, before she firmly grabbed the bridle and turned the horse. The caravan itself was still moving, and so she focused herself on that - with the internal mumblings and promises of revenge coming swiftly.

[Avarice]

Greetings! Salutations! Hello! *insert all other greetings in ze world*

I am Avarice, your lovely AS of Sunberth; and I am here to inform you that there is something wonderful coming your way...A Grade! Yes. You've finished a thread and it was wonderful so below you'll find your hard-earned XP and Lores. Any questions? PM me! (Don't be shy, I don't bite...I promise!) Also, please be sure to edit your post in the request thread to reflect your having received a grade!

 

Fallon

XP

• Detection +1
• Horsemanship +2
• Leadership +2
• Planning +1

LORES

• An Attempt to Step into the Slaver's Circle
• Taking Orders...From a Daggerhand

MISCELLANEOUS

• Expense: -6 sm (Bedroll & Winter Blanket)

 

Gideon

XP

• Rhetoric +2
• Observation +2
• Singing +1

LORES

• Fighting Snark with Snark
• Sharpening My Blade to Pass the Time
• A Song of the Past

MISCELLANEOUS

• Expense: -2 cm (Whetstone)

 

Zandelia

XP

• Rhetoric +2
• Intimidation +1
• Detection +1
• Planning +1

LORES

• An Attempt to Step into the Slaver's Circle
• Banter with Bitzer
• I Prefer Walking Over Riding

MISCELLANEOUS

• N/A

 

Kaie

XP

• Trapping +1
• Hunting +1
• Rhetoric +2
• Detection +1
• Acrobatics +1
• Unarmed Combat +1

LORES

• I Wish I Was Better With My Bow
• Skinning a Rabbit...Poorly
• I'm Seen as an Animal

MISCELLANEOUS

• N/A

Yours Truly,
Avarice <3