Closed brother of the forgotten.

[Favchean Hronis]

Too many times Favchean just simply assumes that all races shared his races features. Oh not the oddly colored skin, or the general height and weight but the things that weren't so apparent to the naked eye. Such as the Akalak's lack of worry about darkness and the inherent dangers there in. Wasn't the goddess of secrets and the dark Akalak's mother? Even the ..curse..that outweighed at times the blessings that Akijah and Wysar had given their children. Even that he sometimes forgot that other races did not have. So he sometimes had little patience for those who did not show the same discipline and control he and his non-cerulean brethren practiced and meditated on daily. He sometimes forgot that others did not have the same need to contain their emotions and thoughts, so when the sailor man spouted his words Favchean simply dismounts. For all the world to see it was simply staring down the smaller male, though if someone was to look closely they might see the tick in his jaw as he clenched his teeth before turning to the Drykas with a tight smile.

"Do you think the horses can cross here? I trust your judgement on what will be safe for the horses and their riders then my own." The Akalak responds in his gravely tones, trying to take care to keep it quieter then even his normal quiet timbre was. As the night falls voices will carry farther, Favchean couldn't tell anyone why it was that happened any more then he could explain how certain animals could change their colors to match their surroundings. He just knew it to be fact. "If we can stay to the tree line and they are not zith then we will be ok I think, and they won't see us when we turn to move back toward camp."

Blue eyes so pale that they seemed to gleam against the black-green flesh of the Akalak turn to watch the figures across the river. He couldn't make out very much detail, but he was certain that one had a weapon but that did not mean much when it comes to zith and their parties. He had seen zith slaves that were freed from raids such as these. His own right of passage he had freed a slave of the zith that earned him his right to a second name. That slave wept..not in gratitude but terror in what was to become of him. It was chilling to see the horrors that the slave's body had been through and how his mind had been twisted in such a way.

No he did not discount the man with a weapon being with the Zith at all. Weapons do not make a man a free man after all.

[Davus]

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Unlike his companions Davus could not make out nearly as much in cover of darkness as he continued to kneel behind the thorn bush, perhaps his sight was simply not as strong as theirs, or perhaps the bush itself was obscuring his vision but when the slaves finally came close enough for him to make out the weapon in the hands of the taller, leaner slave he decided it would be a fairly rash decision to pop his head above the bush to get a better look, if he wanted to keep his other eye that is. Davus found the slave in possession of a weapon curious, he had not reached the conclusion that a slave can be manipulated to work for their captures willingly as he had no knowledge of what slaves suffer in their often short lives, he had of course had plenty of drinks with slavers before, a business even this shady Sevfra wouldn't associate himself with, but he had never known the wares they dealt in, just the sometimes surprisingly normal men who profited from it.

He nodded in agreement to Vanator's suggestion, once again his silent nature while assessing the situation and the weight his words carried negotiated a bridge between the hot-headed Svefra and the obedient Akalak. But despite this the crossing of the river did bring into question a hint of doubt where he was concerned, despite his regular experience with water Davus was by no means an expert on rivers, his knowledge of the sea was far more comprehensive but he knew the surface of any body of water could be deceiving. The surface of the river appeared to be slow and lazy, at least judging by the various sticks and twigs that floated by, but the real danger he had been told was in the undercurrents, some stories even stated that they were capable of dragging a powerful warhorse down to its death. The river looked too deep for a man to wade across, and while Davus believed he might just be able to swim across with a healthy pinch of luck, he was unsure of the abilities of Vanator and Fancheav.

"Our best bet is probably the horse" He whispered, supporting the Drykas who probably had far more confidence in the animals than Davus did "Hopefully the undercurrent won't be too strong, and the even if they are these are strong horses" The final comment sounded more like a hopeful question than a statement. He looked away from the river, both the thought of having to get back on that infernal horse he had been burdened with and attempt to manoeuvre the horse across a flowing river of unknown speed, an achievement that the novice horse rider doubted he would achieve. A soft caw came from overhead, drawing his gaze to the very strange looking brown bird with webbed feet"At least he can follow instructions" Davus thought to himself before turning back to river.

"So we wait for them to finish their business here before riding our horses across the river, then following them for a short while to find out the general direction where they are heading before reporting back" He summarised "Any problems with what I have just said or can we get to it?"

[Favchean Hronis]

Favchean sent a small prayer to Wysar, a prayer for discipline and control as the sailor man pressed far more buttons then Favchean usually allowed people to push. He was fairly proud of his control, of how he managed to keep most negative emotions reigned in to deal with them when he was alone and it was safe to deal with. An Akalak's annoyance is not a pretty sight, and their anger is uglier still.

He was no where near actually releasing his annoyance out on the little sailor man, but it would never hurt to exert just a little more control over his words. So when he speaks, he speaks calmly and quietly, though his icy stare was hard and brittle.

"We are not following them. We assume it is a low number of Zith, but they are wily and tricksome things. While.." His head flicks toward the Drykas and his axe, " He and I would dance with the Zith, making the ground wet with their blood..if there are too many we won't be a match for them. We watch, from here, then we report back."

[Caelum]

Ellie raised her eyebrows at Oworo, dissatisfaction thinning the line of her mouth. She felt stung by his mockery of her question, as if she herself did not understand the difference; but the Zith were trying to make her into a thing rather than a person. If they had already succeeded with this man, then she thought perhaps she could not blame him. “Birdflight,” she said, turning from him to walk the last few yards to the river bank. Bare feet moved from the leaf blanketed ground to lichen-slick rock. “That’s from the horse clans, isn’t it? The Drkyas? We were traveling. Making our way to Lhavit.” Of all blessed places. The other four girls were her friends, all rootless and three of them former students from the University at Zeltiva. They were daring and opinionated, educated and without the advanced oversight offered by having older, arguably wiser family members to look out for them. Perhaps, in light the young women’s present circumstances, the idea to travel across the world to study cultures and seek more advanced magics and methods for those among them so inclined seemed powerfully foolish. Yet they had not started out that way, traveling with a caravan well marshaled by both mercenaries and experienced tradesmen. They had been on their way to Kenash, and from there to catch a ship to Alvadas, when a fever had taken a third of their caravan. It was a matter of weeks until the Zith found them, weakened in number and flesh. Ellie dropped to her knees at the edge of the rock, wincing, and she grimaced down at her reflection before lowering one of the buckets into the water. “I still intend to see it,” she called over her shoulder to Oworo. Lhavit, she meant. Bound for the hell of Xy, she was still not quelled. A massive shadow rippled over the ground, rushing through the fall barren branches to slide over Oworo and hasten toward the waters. Winged and swift, the Zith flew toward the opposite bank. Ellie frowned, lifting her eyes to watch. He was one of theirs, doubtless stretching his wings from his daytime sleep.

[Davus]

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Davus winced slightly as he accidently clenched his fists around the thorny branches of the bush, while Davus had found him somewhat amusing at first he had started to become a pain in arse as he seemed to argue with everything the Svefra suggested just for the sake of it, but even then he couldn't believe he would say something like that about the Zith "Dance with them?" He whispered incredulously "Dance with them, eat with them, even sleep with them I couldn't care less what you did with them, but don't deluded yourself to thinking that you will find any sort of glory in killing them because there is none to be found. You want glory? You can do all you can to free those slaves but don't speak of bloodshed as if it is honourable and glorious because it isn't, by the gods I thought that would be the first thing your kin would teach you!" He turned away from the Akalak, unwillingly to converse with him further, it always left a bitter taste in his mouth and focused on the event at hand.

"Why are they taking so long over there?" He muttered to himself in an undertone, they should have been and gone by now yet there they were just standing there conversing with each other. The women, he tried to make out her face in what little light remained yet he could only see the slight flicker of... panic perhaps? Or fear? He could not tell, and so focused he was on the woman that he failed to notice the dark, ominous shadow make its way over the river. "What are they doing?" He whispered, directed both to himself and the group. Why is one armed? Why is the other terrified? These questions failed to make any sense to him. Suddenly the lone caw of a bird echoed throughout the forest, a noise that didn't quite fit in amongst the tall trees and dark undergrowth.

A sudden look of realization flickered across his face as he registered the noise, he pulled away from the bush and directed his eye at the canopy, but saw nothing amidst the dense network of branches and leaves but that didn't deter him, true it could have been anything; the bird wasn't the brightest and he could have misheard him but still he couldn't ignore the call, unlike the Akalak he liked to be prepared for any eventuality "You said you wanted to make the ground wet with Zith blood with your lover to be? Well..." He said softly "I just have a hunch you might get to do just that" His hand made its way along his belt as he pulled out one the bottles, his other hand reached down and pulled up a handful of fine dirt "If my hunch is right, don't bother watching my back. I only have one eye to spare and that is watching something far more important" He turned to them and said with a hint of a smile "Mine"

[Vanator]

"I must not have made myself clear." The Drykas spoked in a hushed tone. "I am not suggesting we ride across to follow them. Finding a spot to ford the river is simply intel we were asked to deliver back to the group. I just meant we watch them leave to determine a general direction they were heading. Three horseman, of varying levels of riding skills could not possibly follow in stealth."

Davus and Favchean began their bickering again as Vanator watched the curious pair across the water. They were still conversing as the girl knelt to gather water. Then a large shadow, carved from the waning daylight, swept over the pair, and the river, towards them. Vanator knew well what the shadow belonged to, and he looked up to find the source. Zith.

"Quiet!" Van quipped in an urgent hush. pointing up. The others had already seen it. "Be still!" He admonished further. Chances were good if the thing drew near, and was doing more than just passing overhead, it would detect the horses, and therefore, the men. Vanator's dark gaze shifted to Davus. "It's only one, he won't attack, they are not fools. But if he sees us, and gets back to the others, it will make the rescue much more difficult and dangerous. Their camp cannot be far. I think we should meet up with the others and report."

[Favchean Hronis]

Favchean simply shifted, but didn't respond to the sailor man. He had let the man goad him into far too much back and forth at it was. So instead he had determined to just turn but his own vision, becoming more in tune with the evening as each second passes and dusk creeps ever closer to dark. The blessing he assumes came from the mother Akijia, goddess of shadow and secret, that allowed Akalak's to see keenly in the dark would ensure that it wouldn't be any easier to sneak up on him in the night then it was in the day.

His pale eyes caught the flying creature, and instantly all irritation at the little sailor bled from his body and was replaced with the coldness of hatred. The hatred of the Zith was so ingrained in the Akalak, that even the self-serving words did nothing to penetrate the stillness of his body. The dark brother within his mind fairly howled knowing that none would hear so it was safe to release the desire to take the thing from the air. Even the dark brother knew this was silly though, and so didn't try and convince Favchean to do anything other then nod in agreement with the Drykas.

Not a Drykas had visited Riverfalll that Favchean did not like, a sound minded people he thought as he turned from the river. The two on the other side of the river would have to wait, and Favchean sent a silent prayer to Wysar for protection of those two, and any others that might have been unfortunate enough to have ran across a Zith raiding party. Wysar might not have been the god of protection, or safety, or anything of the sort but he was the god of integrity, and there was few things opposite of integrity then the Zith so Favchean had faith that Wysar might see the need to step in. Just until they could bring help.

Turning, his large body staying low even though it made him feel utterly ridiculous. If it weren't for the darkness of his skin he would definitely be the one of the trio that stuck out the most with his size. The fact that stealth is not one of his strong suits, and something he might need to work on but he is not a hunter, or some coward that would slip up to stick a knife in an opponent's back.

He attempted to be as quiet as he could, trying to watch where he stepped but his horse following behind was a different matter all together. While Favchean could watch where his feet stepped, and managed to avoid most of the fallen leaves and twigs he could not see where his horses feet were moving, and was not enough of a horseman to know to lead the horse to prevent. Though he didn't do anything so silly as to walk directly through a thicket of leaves, the breaking of a limb when the horse stepped on one that had fallen to the ground caused his ears to almost stand straight up and his spine to stiffen. He had his Lakan and his dagger at both hips, but he was better trained in unarmed so he instinctively fell back into his beginning Kata stance.

oocoops..

[Davus]

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Davus watched on as the Akalak started to sneak through the forest with all the grace of a hippopotamus followed by his cumbersome beast, Akalaks were large at the best of times and this one was particularly wide Davus followed on after him, he was nearly as tall as him but with only half the width and his brown leather armour providing some form of camouflage against the trees as he started to slip through the forest, trying to tread lightly as possible as he winced with every rustling leaf.

He had decided not to argue against this plan because truthfully he agreed with it, trying to cross with a Zith watching was a subtle as breaking out into a dirty song at a funeral, and he knew the consequence of the Zith knowing their presence in this godforsaken land. At best the Zith would decide to threaten the lives of their cargo if the Akalak did attack, and even if they did casualties would be significantly higher and he doubted the pay he would receive from the gratitude of the city would be substantial. And at worst they decide to cut out the middle man and slit their throats as they slept; and a slit throat definitely meant no gold.

His train of thought was interrupted by a loud crack and in this almost soundless forest, the only noise coming from them gentle flow of the river, the odd rustle of leaves in the wind and the spontaneous call of a native bird, the crack echoed throughout the forest, drawing the attention of everything living thing towards its source.

Normally Davus would have come up with a condescending quip but he found his mouth had completely dried up, every muscle frozen and even his eye stopped working as his hearing went into overdrive, trying to find out the effects of the horses stupidity. Everything seemed to grow louder - The river sounded like a torrent of water, the birds seemed to screech into the dark abyss and even his muffled breathing sounded heavy and laboured and on top of that the once gentle beating of wings now distorted all other noises around him, and he could not shake the feeling of a pair of eyes staring at him out at there in the darkness. Slowly the beating of wings died away, the bearer of them no doubt in possession of much more valuable intel then the crossing points along a river.

Slowly his muscles thawed, allowing him to move them once more as he rested his forehead in his palm, rubbing it slowly as he reminded himself of the various scenarios that might unfold because of what had just transpired. He allowed himself to hope that perhaps the Zith had decided to follow them waiting for the opportune moment to ambush them but even he could not deceive himself into believing that. He whispered softly, his voice carrying further than usual in silent forest "Favchean..." It was the only word he could bring himself to say before falling into an unnatural silence.

[Oworo Birdflight]

Body language had always been a vital part of the Drykan society. Known as the Grassland Sign to the rest of the world, the hand motions and body gestures was a pillar to the functioning and structure of the horse people. Out on the hunt, when a single sound will startle the prey and cost the hunters their bounty, the body was all they had to communicate. Even if they couldn't fluently portray their own thoughts and feelings with their own body, most if not all Drykas understood the art of body language. Oworo fell into this category, one who could see, but who struggled in deciphering the message. Oh, the slave saw the shift in Ellie's visage as she walked to the waterside. The arch of the eyebrow, the frown, the wrinkling of her brow . . . Oworo saw it all. Her dissatisfaction was clearly evident, but beyond that, he was unsure of her feelings. Was she dissatisfied with him personally, or the entire situation she found herself in? What did she actually think about this man, a slave who rode with the winged monsters, helping in killing her friends and enslaving her caravan? Oworo knew that the face spoke volumes, far more than words, but he just couldn't understand it enough. Maybe one day that would change, Oworo told himself. The woman continued to speak as Oworo stood there, watching her, his attention from the opposite bank diverted for the time being. She questioned him of his ties to the Drykas, which Oworo merely nodded to. Then she shifted the conversation to herself, mentioning her own travel destination. The word she used in his native tongue was foreign to him, as if it was taken from the Common tongue and injected into Pavi. Lhavit, she called it. It was Oworo's turn for his brow to furrow. "I know of no Lhavit on this Sea. How had you planned on getting there?" Oworo asked this question for multiple reasons. This city had never come up in the discussions between his people during their travels. Oworo had seen with his own eyes the majestic city of Riverfall, conversed with the traders of the desert lands to the south, and lived among the denizens of Xy. He had concluded that this city was far, far away, in lands he probably never would've traveled to, even if the Zith hadn't turned his life upside down. Thus, he was curious as to how this woman would've gotten there from here. The other reason he questioned her intentions was due to his first-hand witness of the people she had been with where his own party had come down upon them. Riding among their wagons and tents, the presence of disease and death was clearly evident. The party was small, weakened, not fit to travel these lands unaided. They had proven easy prey for the Zith and Oworo, no match for the ferocity of his masters. The woman spoke once more after this, while she was bent over at the waterside. She told him that she still wished to see it, the mysterious Lhavit. Her tone was firm, lacking any of the fear or weakness that had laced her previous statements. Oworo nodded at this, a small smile crossing his lips. Did he expect this woman to see this city? Not at all; once they returned to Xy, she'd be lucky to ever leave the city again. Women flesh was prime property in the Zith community, property that wouldn't be allowed to just walk out whenever she chose. For now, though, Oworo let her hold onto her dreams, but he left her with a piece of advice as she fetched water: "Yes, never forget your dreams. Remember, though, never to let them cloud your mind from reality, because that only increases the pain." Overhead, one of the Zith flew above them. The slave looked up in an attempt to identify the monster, but the beast had turned his face westward, towards the opposite bank. "Hurry, Ellie, with that water." Oworo said quietly, "It seems we'll be leaving soon." With that, the slave fell silence once more, watching one of his masters fly into the distance, all the while fingering the feathers on the end of his arrow.

[Caelum]

Ellie flashed Oworo a jaunty smile over the rise of her shoulder when he asked how she intended to get to Lhavit. “Any way I can,” she determined. The bucket was hauled out of the river, splashing water with its release, and she thunked it down onto the rock beside her before reaching for the second bucket to repeat the entire process. Grass green eyes rose to the sky that dimmed tick by tick to watch the zith fly overhead. A shudder went through her and she jerked at the bucket handle, lifting it free of the river. "Yes," she muttered, more to herself than to Oworo. "I guess we will be." The young woman unraveled to her feet, the lithe muscles in her arms straining with a wince as she hefted a bucket in either hand. Bare feet turned her about, back to the river, to return to Oworo when she stopped dead in her tracks. Water sloshed against her legs, dribbling into the worn straps of her boots. A series of strange emotions flickered like water light over her face and, finally, she hissed, "Oworo," and filled his name with warning. "Don't speak," a rich voice cautioned. It came from within the tight knit copse behind Oworo where a pair of yellow eyes gleamed out at them. The dark blue Cerulean stood in the shield of the trees shadow, largely hidden from above. He stood with a dagger in his hand, rubbing his thumb against the soft ridge of leather wrapping its handle. "Don't say a word, girl," Doran continued, raising his eyebrows at Elia and then tilting his chin in a wordless gesture that clearly motioned the girl to continue walking toward them and the tree line. "You either --" He added, keeping the human archer constantly within his regard. Elia rolled slowly forward as bid, eyes flying from the Akalak's face to Oworo's. Behind her, on the other side of the river, the zith swooped back around. He dipped lower in his returning gyre, the wind spilling off the beat of his wings rustling the uppermost canopy of the trees. He passed over the three volunteers frozen in the foliage, and at first it seemed as if he had spied them and might continue on his business back toward camp. Luck was not with them, however, and the zith performed an abrupt dive before reaching the waver to land on the bank while drawing free his sword. His wings settled in a heavy mantle about his shoulders, bristled as any beast's, and he cried over the river to the slaves on the other side. "Oworo! Sound the horn!" Oworo, trusted slaved that he was, had been given a simple huntsmen's horn for pretty much exactly this purpose -- to summon the others.