Part 2: The meeting of paths

“What’s it like having someone that loves you like that? Unconditionally without any expectations?”

Of all the things she'd expected Lilliana to say, that wasn't one of them. She contemplates the question for a long moment, looking at Lilliana all the while. After a long moment, Katrin walks over to the girl, and sits on the edge of her bed. There are several different directions she could take...but the girl had been through enough. "It's both the best and the worst feeling in the whole world, all at the same time."   

Lilliana picks at the blanket absently. “Oh,”  she looks at Katrin. “Why would it be the worst feeling?”

Katrin smiles.  "Because being apart hurts. But it's a good kind of hurt." She pauses, staring off into the distance. "This lifestyle doesn't lend itself well to relationships. But we've managed so far." Katrin looks back at Lilli. "I don't deserve her."  

Sable slopes off from Timm's store to the room that the Wayfarer's guild has made available to him. Once inside, the wizard latches the door and sits wearily on the edge of the bed, setting his pack down besides it as he fetches his spellbook from within. For a moment Sable simply rests there, the heavy pages falling open in his lap. Then, with a laboured sigh, the wizard gathers the last of his energy to focus on recanting a ritual from within the ever growing tome. The incantation flows from Sable's lips with the steady familiarity of long practice as he erects his usual nightly ward. Then he closes the spellbook and carefully stores it safely away, before falling back to lie on the bed. I must make a copy of that once we come into some time and money , the wizard muses briefly as his head hits the pillow. However, the exhaustion of the gruelling day that he and the rest of the Fireblades have somehow survived quickly takes him and all thought is washed away by the sweet release of oblivion. Several hours later, Sable stirs and, as his eyes flutter open, a number of things become apparent. The utter bone tiredness has been assuaged, only to be replaced by other pressing needs. Most urgently, thirst, and the wizard goes in search of his waterskin to quench it. Furthermore, he's increasingly aware of the day-old makeup caked to his face. Cracking the door to the common room to ensure that all is still quiet, Sable ventures out to fill both a bucket and his depleted skin, before disappearing back inside his room. Once the door is safely closed behind him, the wizard sets the bucket down and retrieves his spellbook once more, this time turning to a new page full of recent scrawlings and experimental sigils. He weaves the incantation not with the practiced ease of the alarm spell, but slowly and methodically, watching for any possible errors. As the ritual progresses, an impenetrable grey dome of force manifests around Sable, shielding him from prying eyes. The wizard returns the spellbook to his pack and begins unpacking a carefully stored selection of cosmetics and costume elements, along with a small mirror that he props up on the room's table. Removing his wig, Sable dunks a cloth in the refreshingly cool bucket of water and begins to wipe down his face, occasionally supporting the process with a touch of cleaning magic or rubbing alcohol for stubborn spots. He splashes his face with water once more and glances up at the mirror to find Tim looking back at him. Tim wasn't who Ascian has asked for though. Packing Sable's silky, white wig away, Tim retrieves Thrandimir's ragged grey locks from the bottom of his pack and sets about undressing. Away go Sable's elegant silver robes and out comes Thrandimir's heavy grey cloak. A brief wash follows, in the hopes of avoiding the communal baths. Then, once Tim is satisfied that he doesn't smell, he dons his new identity. Several minutes later, Thrandimir emerges from his room and makes for the guild's Tollanian privy, followed by a visit to Timm to discuss what spells he has available for scribing. With the new day and the new face have come new ideas...

Akiran's head & arm take turns throbbing as he lies in the dark. As if in a war of to see which would be the chief irritant of his day, the hanger over, the wound by his brand, or his usual lack of sleep. As Akiran tries his best to ignore his woes, he hears the door to his room creep open, he almost reaches for his hand axe until he hears the rustling of chain.  Just Thezra. For a moment he worried it was The Pale One. Though once the thought crosses his mind, he realizes that even on his best day he'd never hear the shadow coming. Thezra's honor wouldn't let her slit his throat while he slept, she's more apt to insult or provoke him. As she calls his name, he debates continuing to fane sleep before grudgingly sitting up and regarding the warrior.   Expecting to be called a greedy braggart, admonished for how he treated The Pale One or for the Orc to just straight up say she doesn't like him. The Dragonborn's scales shift in surprise when she asks him to spar. He initially opens his snout to refuse, the hangover & smarting pain in his arm weighting on him. But the events of the last day and the fact that he'd need Thezra to kill the Dragon push him to his feet. And hell a a good work out is the best cure to a hangover. With a nod he says "Not a bad idea, after the hell we went through yesterday blowing off some steam i'll be nice. Let me get cleaned up & we'll go" Looking at the warriors armor "The de.. your friend still has my armor so let's keep it interesting eh?" Deciding it best not to insult her grand teacher after she tried to make piece.

“Sure,” she nods, suddenly feeling the weight of her own armor pressing against her skin. She leads him out into the guild proper, and together they make their way through to the area they’d been told facilitated training, the whole while her mind clouded in discomfort. 

The guild's training hall is a wide room with several large, circular sparring arenas -- each one floored with a cushion of white sand. Racks of wooden weapons line the walls, and an archery range with stationary round targets takes up most of the further half of the room. A pair of dwarves spar accompanied by the rhythm of sharp cracks of wood on wood from their pairs of kali sticks. A half-elven woman looks up from her fletching work and nods to the newcomers. Otherwise, the training hall is unoccupied at this early morning hour.

Thezra takes in the hall as they enter, her eyes tracking over the racks of weapons and targets. To think the guild alone had such a supply... She approaches one of the unused rings and turns to her would-be partner. "Your choice how you want to do this - blades or hands. But I'm choosing the rules." She takes the blade from her back and sets it down at her side as she starts to undo the armor around her chest and arm, pulling at the straps and buckles until the pieces fall with a heavy thunk  to the sand. "I was never a true warrior. Not in the sense of fighting under Kerak's command. Or Duar'ken's, for that matter. But I made a habit of stopping by the barracks. The men their let me watch the training. The drills. The sparring." Her thoughts drift back to those days, to afternoons spent begging to be given a blade to swing, a chance to fight, if only just for a few minutes , at least. Many scoffed; told her to run along. Some allowed her to watch. A few even occasionally let her sneak a bit of training in. The memory brought a smile to her face as she continued, "When disagreements came up, this was how they were settled. A conversation - not just a clash of minds but of bodies as well. We spar. We fight. We bleed. And we talk. Ask. Listen ." She reaches up to remove the heavy bands of metal around her arm, and hesitates. She couldn't remember if she tried the last time she'd removed it in front of anyone. Delicately the pauldron and gauntlet come loose, then finally the vambrace itself. As each piece falls away, and more skin becomes visible, the light of the training hall illuminates more fully the lines of scarred, seared flesh below. Skin sags around atrophied muscle in lines that swirl like flames themselves still danced across the arm.   She closes her eyes, and whether phantom or not, a searing flare of pain races up from her hand to the crook of her neck. With a heavy sigh she opens them once more. "Words worth bleeding for are worth believing in, after all."

Hefting his shield, it's intricate silver patterns catching and reflecting the rooms firelight Akiran begins to stretch the sluggishness and alcohol induced weariness from his muscles. Listening to Thezra's tale of her people as he stretches, thoughts of his former home playing through his mind. His people dedicated themselves completely to any endeavor they chose. Being apart of Clan Sovine meant waking early in the morning to do your work & tend to your craft, whether it be smithing, farming, pottery, it did not matter as long as it brought value to the village. In the afternoon the warriors trained for hours upon end,  repeatedly working their arms with sword, shield, spear, bows  striving for the unattainable ... perfection. Everyone working to improve the clan by improving themselves. Shaking his memories of home he'll never see again Akiran takes in the burns & seared flesh around the Orc, pausing a moment before responding    "Don't know if I'd say all that. Words are just words, they can be pretty, they can ugly, they can good bad & everything in between.  But an elder from my village had a phrase he liked. Repeated it to me damn near every day, he'd say, words are worthless unless put into action.  But you're right about one thing, a good scrap after a bit ah bad blood can work miracles. Saw that a lot in the Legion, in the morning a pair of soldiers would be ready to cut each other in two, and sharing a pint in the evening after a few good bare knuckle rounds." Finishing his stretches he adds patting his sheathed broadsword  "Now blades prolly'd be the most fair, ya know I was one of the Legion's best scrappers. My village beat it into you, your body's the best weapon & all that. After the shit they put you through you're nearly is lethal with your fist as a blade. " Fixing his snout into a humanoid smile " But I'll leave it up to ya. Blade to blade or get our knuckles a bit bloody" 

Thezra sighs and hefts the long black blade out to its full length above the ground, twisting it slowly around, letting the weight of it strain the muscles in her arm. “If it’s fairness you seek, I may need to borrow one of those ,” she nods to the myriad assortment of smaller blades along the walls with a grin. “But alright. Come at me with your sword. We can always drop them if you get winded too quickly.” She pulls her locks back off her shoulders and behind her head, tying them up with a knotted band into a less obstructive ponytail, then starts her own handful of light stretches. “Each would-be hit prompts a question. And you have to answer. No real point otherwise. Anyway, when you’re ready, Akiran of Dragons. I’m eager to test myself against the training of your Legion.”

"That makes sense."  She picks at the blanket some more. "My family deserved better than me too... obviously. They thought I was a blessing, but I'm just a curse... a έκπτωτος άγγελος ( ékptotos ángelos)."  Instinctively she pulls her legs... no... her leg  up towards her chest and she stares down at the stump pressing up against the blanket and bursts into tears. 

Shit. She slides herself to the head of the bed, and pulls Lilliana into a tight embrace, her brow furrowed as the girl's words play in her head. "...I'm just a curse..." "Shh, it's okay," she says softly. "Just let it all out. You're safe here."  

"Legion didn't teach me to fight, just gave me gold to do it"  Unsheathing his shining blade with a flourish, Akiran raises his shield and stalks up to the mat.   "Truth be told I'm not sure what to ask ya. Most thought I've given ya is why you're so insistent on being a pain mah ass." Smiling he takes his fighting stance "But maybe if ya get lucky ah few hits i'll knock something loose."

“What I’m insistent on is not being not being stabbed in the back. Again”  She rolls her left shoulder, the scarred arm it bears regripping around the banded leather of her hilt. Pacing about the arena, she waits for him to come at her. “Can’t avoid that if I don’t trust the people around me.” 

Lilliana wraps her arms around Katrin and locks onto her as she sobs, letting all the pain of the last two days out, no the last several years… letting go of her control or rather her attempt to control of everything. In that moment she was so very much just a lost young woman. She allowed the pain of loss of her family, her freedom, her wings… all of it, let it out into a torrent of anguish so that she wouldn’t have to keep it all locked up right behind the walls she’d built up to protect herself. Eventually that well dried up and she took control again. It felt so good to let it go, even if just for a few minutes.  After a few moments of regaining control, she lets go of Katrin and pushes herself back with a few sniffles and wipes of her eyes. “I’m sorry, Katrin, I know you aren’t responsible for all that, but thank you. It’s been a very hard two days since we meet.” Her eyes stung from the salty tears drying in her eyes, but she still tried to force a lopsided smile. “I imagine you guys must have some questions about…” she points toward her back, “all of that. I’m willing to talk, but somethings I won’t answer. It’s too dangerous for you all to know everything. And I feel like I’ve already put you all into enough danger as it is.”

It felt like an eternity. But she didn't mind. After Lilli pulls herself somewhat together, Katrin smiles wryly. "We all have our secrets. I've been doing this a lot longer than you have. Trust me when I say this. It's all going to be too dangerous. My secrets, yours. All of our secrets are dangerous. But when you can trust someone else with them? It's easier to bear." She shifts herself to sitting cross-legged on the bed across from Lilli. "That's a big part of what it means to love someone. Trust. I've told Rose my deepest secrets. It takes time to form that kind of trust. But once you have it? It's hard to break. And devastating to lose."  Katrin leans back against the headboard, her eyes narrowed in thought for a long moment. Then she leans forward again, folding her hands in her lap. "You're not a curse. What happened to you, it's not your fault. You're a strong girl. Believe me, it's hard to irritate me, and you've done that on more than one occasion." And some people seem to have a particular talent for it. She thinks back to when she first met Thrandimir, and smiles.  "But I have this little sister, and you're a lot like her. So I'm going to help you."

"I always found it best not ta trust anyone" Pacing the mat with his shield raised and broadsword held low in a tight grip. "cause then at least yer watching for the blade."   As soon as he finishes speaking Akiran's eyes narrow & the dragonborn charges forth shield held high.  To most it would like the Dragonborn planned to run the orc down & smash Thezra with a blow from his shield, but at the last instant the Dragonborn skids to a stop and delivers a quick yet blunted upwards slash. Pulling the blade back just as it glances the warrior, scoring the hit but not doing any lasting damage to Thezra. Darting back he flourishes his blade with his scales around his face ruffling into a true smile. "'Sides I'd never stab you in the back." Dropping his stance he thinks for a moment and the question that's bothered him for the last day pops into his mind. "If your worried about getting stabbed in the back, why ya so keen on trusting the bastard that taught Duar'ken? Can't think ah one good reason to reach into the Abyss & talk with demons, let alone teach someone else too. & when he saw it all go to shit, he ran & screwed your clan over. Seems like a problem waiting ta happen to me."

Thezra watches the dragonborn come at her and raises her defensively, but as he dips down and up to slash instead, she leans into the blow, letting the sword catch her side. She frowns though at his words, pulling back to a few paces. "That bastard   did not consort with demons. He studied the abyss. There is a difference. Just as studying the nature of war and invading a city are completely separate. My aunt and I did the same, to a lesser extent." She pauses though. Quick as she was to want to leap to the defense of her own clansmen - especially a tenosha  (even if he himself refused to be recognized as such) like Ale'ken - she knew she herself had felt some level of anger rise up when he revealed his part in the whole thing. Shifting the blade uncomfortable around, she casts her gaze aside. "You- you are not unreasonable to question why he ran though. I admit I can't quite get that. It's not our way. Not as I was taught, at least. But that level of shame and fear... I can understand it at least." Shaking the doubt from her mind, she instead regrips the greatsword in one hand and feels the nick of blood trickling down her side with the other, letting the warmth coat her fingers before wrapping them around the hilt as well. "Alright my turn." Stomping forward, she brings her sword up in a wide, telegraphed manner, hanging it in the air for just a second before cutting sharply down. The dragonborn pivots away, letting the black blade crash through the ground, tearing a chunk from it, but not before he catches her in the other side with his shield. "Why does it bother you anyway? Even if he had dealt with demons to gain something in return, how would it have differed from taking gold from the Watcher?" 

Feeling a satisfying thump as his shield connects with Thezra's side Akiran darts back and drops his stance. His scales still ruffled in a Dragonborn smile, With a lighthearted chuckle he says  "Aye thought it was my question?" his voice growing serious  "But I'll bite." Holding up two scaled fingers from his sword hand "Two things. First & I hope you hear me this time. Taking gold from someone without a contract doesn't mean shit. He didn't ask for nothing, he just threw us a bag a gold. Why wouldn't we take it, and make it work for us?" Dropping one of his fingers "Second, people never called me smart. Charming, a dashing warrior & a  brilliant smith certainly. I mean people have eyes. Just not smart. But even I could see if that bastard would calmy watch us cut down Duar'ken & his men, and still stick around when it's done. He had no fear that anything we could do could touch him. 'Specially with that damn bubble. I hit it with everything I had and didn't do shit. My rule is if ya can't fight em, you dazzle em. Better ta make it out alive and go from there."  Looking at the warrior  "Now I got two questions for you .  What the hell did ya think would happen, when you used that trick to cut the Watcher? I can't think of one damn reason to poke that bear when ya knew the rest of us couldn't touch em? He probably coulda killed us all, if he wanted specially after you made him bleed." Pausing for a moment his tones softens  " & I've noticed ya can put some heat behind yer blade, always been curious 'bout the technique behind it? Yer probably bit stronger than me, but that doesn't explain all the punch behind your sword"

"You're definitely right about one of those," she paces around, feeling the bruises accumulate nicely along his sides. "You just spelled out exactly why  I did that. The dukhal  thought himself untouchable. I wanted him to know he's not. Simple as that. He wanted to kill me for it, he could've. But he didn't. If someone's strong enough to kill me that easy and wants to, they'll do it, fine. But he put Duar'ken on the path. He's behind all of this as far as I see. Not letting a goblinshit bastard like that sit smug behind a damn bubble." "But 'heat' ?"  The second question catches her offguard. Truth be told it wasn't something she gave much thought to anymore. Not for some time. Not since it'd been so thoroughly drilled into her. "I don't know what that means. Is that a dragonkin phrase?" she gives him a raised brow, but continues.  "I hit harder than you because I am stronger, and I have a big krutak'n  blade. Aside from that, I suppose I don't bother with all the fancy footwork you focus on, perhaps. Someone hits me - like you just did twice - I don't dwell on it, I just use it, let it fuel me. Get knocked down twice and get back up three times, stronger and angrier each time. The way I was taught to channel my emotions isn't outward but inward. Doing that... each strike brings you closer to victory, whether theirs or yours, right?" Hoisting the steel up once more, she starts towards him again. 

Akiran pauses his scales ruffling in thought  "Y ou're trick didn't bring down his magic sphere, what do you think would happen if  the bastard decided to treat you like a threat? You really think he'd stop with killing you? We left there alive cause he didn't want us dead or care enough to do it himself. How can we trust each other if you don't see that?" Settling into his fighting stance he does give a nod of respect "There may be something ta the emotion bit though." Clan Sovine's fighting styles revolved around keeping emotion out of combat, but with an unconscious glance to where the Dragon's mark disgracing his scales he adds "Might as well make you're anger work for ya"

"Suppressing that feeling only adds another thing to focus on in combat."  Thezra notes his glance towards the mark, the sound of his raging echoing into her mind from the day prior. Arching a brow, she presses back.  "Anyway why would he kill anyone but me in that moment. Only I posed a threat. You said it yourself," she lowers her sword, carefully circling around him, "You were completely powerless there." With a nod to the mark, she goes on, "You were powerless yesterday, too. To stop Krutaelis from marking us. To stop that creature from hurting Lilliana. To stop the mad shaman from his chase. How did that make you feel? Angry?"  Before the final word had finished passing her lips her foot had already shifted, pivoting hard before the other dashed forward, her blade once more pulled high as she watched him respond in kind, but the warmth of blood at one side and the dull ache on the other drove her faster, her swing coming down straight through his own, barreling the broadsword back hard, though she makes sure to pull right in time only to nick the scales of his shoulder. " Good . Don't ignore it, use it." Pulling back around she awaits his next strike. "Anyway I hit, so here's my question - how does a trained soldier who seems to care so much for the legion and army ever come to be a gold-obssessed mercenary, anyway? Shouldn't you be off marching in formation somewhere?"

His scales flaring in anger " Ya had no way of knowing if he'd stop with you.  Ya gambled with our lives & got fucking lucky! And you're a fool if you can't see that. You didn't prove a point or do any good. Ya just risked our lives to throw a damn temper tantrum, & make yourself feel like a big bad warrior!" His anger building as she mentions the wretched dragons name & yesterday's tragedies. Intensifying as her blow out paces his and scores a cut to his shoulder. Though as she mentions the Legion & gold obsessed the Dragonborn couldn't help himself from busting into a deep belly laugh. In between laughs he adds  "Oh... that...that was a good one!" Wiping a tear from his eyes "The Legions an army of sell swords, compared ta some of them I come out looking like a damn saint. More than a few of em would sell out their own mother for the right bag ah gold!" His laughter finally fading with an edge of anger leaking back into his voice "I don't love the Legion. But their a professional outfit with the King's blessing, the commanders aren't stupid, & the pay was never late . More than ya can say for most companies . If the gods were kind, I'd still be marching with em & not dealing with the shit storm we fell into. But their not & I can't keep drinking myself to sleep so here the hell I am." Settling back into his combat stance, he feels the edge of anger behind him & decides for once to lean into it.

Akiran at first moves slowly towards Thezra his blade cutting a lazy x into the air as he moves. At the last moment he charges forward his shinning shield leading the way. Moving his body & eyes in a way that nearly shouted an attack from his shield, as he rushes forward. Though at the last moment he twists to the side lowering his shield and jabbing his blade forward. Though as he moves he sees Thezra read his bluff and bring her blade down to meet him. Anger welling within him, he decides press the attack. Ignoring every instinct the warrior possessed, as they shouted to withdraw and reposition. In a fluid motion his blade darts forward. The gleaming tip of the sword connecting with Thezra's stomach, just before the warrior's great sword could tag him. Jumping back, Akiran gives a nod of respect & adds "Thought ya had me." Relaxing from his fighting stance, he lets out a breath and pauses for a moment to think of a question. Finally settling on one he calls out "Ya look down on me for fighting for gold & glory. So what do you fight for that's so high & mighty? What do you want for your life that's so lofty, it gives ya reason to look down on the rest of us?"

Lilli listened to Katrin's words with rapt attention, soaking in the wisdom of them and hoping that she could internalize them as part of herself. Her eyes water more as the emotions flood, but she keeps them in check and it's nothing more than a dampening of her lids as she blinks them away. She lets out a choked laugh when she spoke about Lilli's uncanny ability to irritate her.  And then Katrin spoke about Lilliana like she was close to her own younger sister and there was a flood of very complicated emotions that ran through her; she felt something thick and awkward in her chest as she tried to process them, but it was just too much for her at the moment. Happiness, fear, resentment, betrayal... so many conflicts there and Lilli just did not know what to do with them, so instead she just said. "Thank you, Katrin. I... that means, well, that means more to me than you can possibly understand. I just, I hope I don't let you down too."  She looks down, but then remembers the things that this group has taught them and she turns her head up to look Katrin with a confident smile. "I mean, I'll do my best not to!" 'You're such a disaster.'

As she'd been speaking, Katrin had been watching Lilli's face carefully. The sheer number of emotions flitting across the girl's face is intense to watch. Katrin's lips had been twitching upwards in a smile, but suddenly becomes very serious at Lilli's last words. She leans forward slightly, gripping the girl's hand.  "Listen to me. You have not let me down. Sure, maybe you've made mistakes, but who of us hasn't? We are flawed individuals. And maybe you will in the future. Maybe I will let you down." Katrin leans back, releasing Lilli's hand. "But just because you let someone down doesn't mean you give up."  

The blow lands with an added look of pleasant surprise on Thezra's face, her recognition of the anger fueling that last strike forcing a tiny hint of a smile to curl around her lips. Nonetheless, she couldn't help but shake her head trying to replay his maneuver again. The way he constantly drew her into one attack only to swing with another. And here she was just throwing heavy blow after heavy blow against him fruitlessly. "I do not look down  on you all," she sighs, lowering her weapon to her side and settling into a more relaxed stance,  "except for physically, I suppose. But look down? That implies I don't respect this group; their abilities. Before I met you all, sure. When I saw you on that field standing against  Gûg's raiding party, I  had little faith gubuk  - outsiders  - could hold their own against Duar'ken's forces. But that was stupid of me. Naive. I was taught early that to underestimate one's enemy was to blindfold oneself in battle. So look down on? The opposite,"  she shakes her head,  "Katrin is a powerful - if overly quick to anger - warrior who fights for her loved ones and own sense of what is right. The girl, Lilliana possesses magics I've never heard of, and though she feigns helplessness and maybe lacks the kind of combat experience you have, can wield them with precision. The wizard is weak, but his magic messes with the mind in a way no sword can defend against. And Ascian..."  she frowns, pursing her lips.  "Admittedly, I thought I had a better understanding of him before last night. In battle he's incredible with that bow, and outside of it I figured he had some issues as does anyone, which I was prepared to help with. Now it seems more like his demons are more literal than even my own, and mine tried to kill us twice," she laughs, rubbing the back of her head uneasily at the thought. "And you, my friend , are the most capable of them all. You have not just the training most of them lack, but you've had it tested in the fire and flame of battle and come out the other side. And I trust that's true not just because you talk about it but because you fight like it. It's why even that last attack failed to get through,"  she wipes a finger through the smattering of blood dripping down her abdomen, running it up over the bridge of her nose. "You want to know why I dislike your obsession with gold and glory so much?"  She asks with a frown, the frustration growing on her face,  " It's because it goes against everything that makes a community work. Gold is fine . It's an end to a means. But its the  means  that matters."  She paces around him, lowering the weapon into a more readied stance while she continues,  " Katrin asked me once how I could call the people of the Fireblade community weak. But that is what they  are . If you or I challenged a farmer there to a duel, they would die. Why is it an insult to point that out? It's just fact. It's also fact that if they challenged me to work the fields I would fail, because I know nothing of planting seeds or tilling fields. In that way, I am weak. And in that way, everyone has a role they can and should fulfill with skills they have that others don't. The farmer grows crops so those that can't can eat. They are doing it not for the glory or the pay, though those may come with their success, but for the community. In the same way, a warrior fights for those that can't. Not for glory or money, but to protect and defend. Her thoughts rush once more to Grum'rusch, and the pain of those early raids returns once more.  "When Duar'ken used his raids to steal and destroy, he betrayed that. He turned protectors into pillagers and in an effort to take means we hadn't grown. And he turned his back on the very hunters and farmers that could have gotten us  out  of the famine. So I opposed him. That's it, alright? I have no 'lofty' goal. I have nothing high and mighty. I have only my people." Her gaze falls. "And they cast me out."  She takes a moment to breathe in deep. Yes, Kerak had seemingly seemed willing to accept her, but he was not the sole voice of the tribe, and many of those voices had been quite... loud.  "Anyway I told you already, I will "do my shit","  she says, in a strange approximation of his own accent and words from the other night,  "and you can do yours. I will not object to it for as long as we work together." Looking up to the dragonborn, she raises an eyebrow as his own words replay in her mind, "What do you mean the gods weren't kind."

Akiran can't help but fall into his kind's smile, at Thezra's estimate of his skills, even knowing that there would be some type of "but" coming. Listening raptly to her definition of "community" he adds "Aye could be true but I gave up that fight years ago.  Shrugging he adds  "But I found my path. I fight for gold & glory because to me they're one of life's few true pleasures. Know more than I'd like about loosing a home, won't say ya get used to it. Y a do learn to live with it though, just gotta find what brings ya happiness without em."  Adding with sincerity in his tone "But ya gotta be careful pushing the humans. Calling em weak, refusing ta follow their customs, & insulting their leaders." Shaking his head & in as kind a tone as he can muster begins again "It's gonna get you killed. Humans don't like outsiders, 'specially one's that don't look like them." Gesturing at his scales "Living in their lands, is no picnic. But better ta have em like ya, than dreaming about cutting your throat." As she mentions the god's his voice takes on a bitter tone "The gods are never kind. They demand worship, obedience, damn near enslaving the rest of us to their rules. Just 'cause they got the biggest stick & no one can touch em. Won't lift a finger to help us lowly mortals, but step outta line & break one ah their precious rules & they'll use that big stick to wack ya right down." With a grunt he blows a small torrent of cold air from his snout and adds in a less bitter tone "Got no love for the gods, and I was more than a little happy ta hear they got some competition forming. But ta tell you the truth I did make one a promise."  Roughly lifting his shirt, and pointing his blade to the cursed dragon's mark & the wound left behind from his hand axe. "I'm gonna kill that fucking dragon, & not for gold, not for glory, just to make sure the bastard's dead. It's all that matters ta me." 

Thezra ponders his words for a bit, considering - and not for the first time - never returning home, but it's the first time it's ever sounded anything but horrible. "That's... all I've dreamt of for so long now is being welcomed back. What pleasures and happiness could I have alone out here?" Shaking the thought from her mind, she moves right along. "Anyway I have not called all humans weak," she protests, "I called the weak ones weak. How else should I describe someone who is has never swung a sword and could barely lift one if they tried? This is not my native tongue so perhaps I've been saying the wrong word?" The genuineness behind her words is only emphasized by the thick orcish accent they are delivered in. As he speaks of gods and dragons, she furrows her brow, listening intently for something that never comes.  "You talk about losing a home and being 'whacked' by a big god stick but have not explained why." Swinging her blade up, pointed towards him, she motions to the exposed dragon mark rippling around his scales. "I will be there beside you in that battle, but that is a fight that requires trust and teamwork we don't have right now."

Without a thought Akiran's shield arm raises to his chest, his fingers unconsciously tracing the outline of his brand. For a moment his snout opens, gathering breath for a blistering retort. But noticing his hand on his chest, he slowly lets the breath out lowering his shield arm. He agreed to this game & he needed the warrior's help to kill the monster. His voice torn Akiran slowly says  "Never gave life to that story.... not even once."  Nodding his head toward Thezra's blade, & summoning a trace of his usual arrogance.  "But you made the rules ta the game. If ya can cut me with that "big  krutak'n" sword.  I'll tell you the tale that's never been told ." Raising his voice & adding booming timbre "The story of how Akiran, honored warrior of clan Sovine became Akiran the Clanless, the silver spun warrior for hire."  Settling into his stance his voice becoming cold & serious "Let us see what fortune favors."

Smirking at the grandiose challenge, Thezra gives a simple nod before hefting the metal further up until its perched atop her shoulder. Rolling her arm, she makes note of the he was settling into, running through her head every blow they’d traded - physical and verbal. “Did you forget, Akiran of Dragons, the Clanless of Silver and Primper of Gold? ” Her words equal parts teasing and firm, she takes a step sideways, “I have no interest in fortune.” Dashing forward, her form is at once familiar - the blade, as if on replay, raises high over her head, each footfall she makes slams tremors outwards from its impact - and her eyes narrow, tracking his movements, but seeing in her mind his own from earlier: pivots, spinning, feinting . His shield comes up, prepared to absorb the inevitable, and as she reaches him, blade hovering high, the inevitable… doesn’t come. Not like her shoulder does. Leaning into her own momentum, she abruptly drops it down as she approaches, slamming the scarred arm into the face of his shield with her full weight behind her, the force sending the both of them stumbling back. But she spins, pressing into the heel of her front foot and pirouetting around on it until her sword is swinging around towards him in an horizontal arc that splits the air around it on its path towards the dragonborn’s own arm. With her last bit of restraint, she makes sure to pull back before dealing more than an acute slice across his scales. Panting, the orc extends a hand to him to help him steady.  “Think there may be something to all that fancy footwork you do after all,” she smiles. “Now, let’s hear which god made the mistake of earning your ire.”

Lilliana smiles genuinely as she listens to Katrin's words. "Thank you for those words. All my life everyone has expected me to be perfect, to be their strength, their stronghold, their... redemption?"  She shakes her head. "No, that's not the right word. Hope. That's it. That's the word I want. I was a child, Katrin, and all these people came flocking to me with their problems, expecting me to fix it all. Illness, injury, even their dead. And that look of utter disappointment when I could not do what they wanted... It was all too much and my parents, they did not help matters. They pushed me to 'the beacon of hope for downtrodden'. They never asked me what I wanted. I just wanted to be a normal kid."

With a groan Akiran shuffles back, the scales around his face ruffling in dejection. While the Dragonborn's eyes fix on  the small trail of blood running down his scales. Sheathing his blade, Akiran reaches for his flask only to find the vessel still dry from the night before. With a sigh he adds "Never thought... that I'd ever tell this story."  Taking a deep breath and giving one last glance to his empty flask, Akiran slowly takes a seat. Looking over to Thezra he slowly begins "Ahh my people, Clan Sovine of Dragoncrest, the scion's of the Silver Dragon's who once saved the world." Shaking his snout and flicking a hand towards Thezra "You'd like em, all honor this & duty that. E'ryone giving it all for the village, working all day & training with blade, shield, & spear through the night. Livin your life for your clan, preparing to fight & die for the honor of Clan Sovine. " Thumping his chest "An' believe it or not, that was my life, and for a long time I cherished it." Hanging his snout "Until it all went to shit. A feud built between Sovine & another clan of Dragonborn. The clan was larger, richer, better armed, & could field twice as many warriors as us. But the Elders said our Clan's honor couldn't tolerate their disrespect." waving his hand forward "And off we marched, towards a battle we had no chance of winning to fight only for our clan's honor." His voice growing raspy with a pained undertone "We fought hard, took more of em than we had any right too. But we were too few, and my brothers began to fall." Looking up and meeting Thezra's eyes "There was no way to win, too many of the bastards. I tried...I tried to tell my brothers, we couldn't win, we needed to drop back an' regroup. But they didn't listen, they never fucking listened." Akiran's eyes fall to his shield "I told em we had to go, I begged em to go. But in the end, they stayed their silver scales stained with blood covering the forest floor. And I ran. I dropped my shield & ran through that damn forest back ta my home. Thought I'd explain, let em know there was no way to win an' that I had to come back." His eyes staring at the ground he runs his hand over the brand "The elder took one look at me & spat, called me a disgrace to the clan, a disgrace to Tempus." Lifting his shirt and showing his silver scales branded with the mark of Tempus "My people worshiped the warrior god above all else, an' in his name the elder cursed me. Telling me that I'd never no peace, and that this failure would haunt me to my end. Burning Tempus' brand into my chest & then exiling me. "  Quickly lower his shirt, and trying to inject a bit of bluster through the bitterness & anger that threatened to consume him "It's easy to be damn warrior god. An keep ya precious honor, when no one's coming for yer own throat." Letting out a torrent of cold air "But what's done is done, da big man wants me ta do good, and I need him to kill that monster. So we're playing nice for now." Looking up & meeting Thezra's eyes daring her to throw one of her sarcastic barbs  "So that's the damn story, ya happy now?"

As the warrior's tale starts, Thezra sits across from him, laying her sword before her. She listens intently, eyes narrowing as the breadth of his clan's misfortune grows. When it is over she sits in silence for a moment, letting his words hang in the air. When she does talk, there is no malice or glee, only a solemn steadiness to her voice.  "You disgraced no one. I don't care if you know that already or disagree, it just must be said first." She pauses once more, washing words around in her mouth, searching for the right string of them in a sea of twine already entwined with itself. "You fought alongside your brothers, you bled alongside them, and you did all you could to protect them. They chose to die, you chose to live once no other option remained. Neither is dishonorable. But both are not smart. I don't want to insult the memory of them, but honor and suicide do not go hand in hand." Lifting her head to face him, she nods - though it was now covered - to the mark on his chest. " That  is dishonor. Not on you, but on your 'Elder',"  her fingers curl around the word. "If I am to believe what you said, this war between your clans was born not out of any urgent need to protect your people but your elder's desire to arrogantly rebuke a perceived slight. There are always going to be those that disrespect you, but fighting for honor itself is not honor, it's... violent vanity." There's a rising sense of anger growing in her words as she speaks of it, especially the lilt she puts on the word elder . But the more she thought about it the more she couldn't help but think of Kerak and Duar'ken, or her own clan's trouble with a ruler willing to throw honor or men to the wayside. Without realizing it she reaches a hand up to softly rub the scar tissue lining her arm.  "I shouldn't say that, and I'm sorry. I do not know your elder or his intentions. But anyone who would send their own men to their deaths so cavalierly..." she grimaces, clenching her fingers around the flesh until it hurts. "Did I mention what my people called me by the time I left?  The Maligned . My own personal brand of ' disgrace ', with the scar to match." The words catching in her throat, she lowers her eyes and forces them out."  I watched good warriors - good people  - get twisted by Duar'ken's words into fighting and dying at his behest, at Kerak's command. At the supposed command of our gods - the spirits. The ancestors. And when I called him out, the very warriors I was trying to help beat me til I couldn't move and held me down."  Eyes closed, she feels the heat surround her once more.  "They forced my arm into a fire and let it burn, demanding I admit to lying. And when it was done, they took turns carving chunks out of the cooked flesh to feed to their wolves as they prepared for the next raid."   Meeting his gaze once more, she forces a faint smile onto her face. "I am sorry, Akiran of Dra... no. You have no clan, I know that. But you are no ally of dragons either. Akiran, of his own Name. It turns out we are both clanless; spurned by those we cared for and betrayed by gods and men alike."  "The Disgraced and Maligned."  With the usual timbre returning to her voice, Thezra gives an uneasy laugh.  "Maybe we ought to just start our own clan." 

Matt B. said: Lilliana smiles genuinely as she listens to Katrin's words. "Thank you for those words. All my life everyone has expected me to be perfect, to be their strength, their stronghold, their... redemption?"  She shakes her head. "No, that's not the right word. Hope. That's it. That's the word I want. I was a child, Katrin, and all these people came flocking to me with their problems, expecting me to fix it all. Illness, injury, even their dead. And that look of utter disappointment when I could not do what they wanted... It was all too much and my parents, they did not help matters. They pushed me to 'the beacon of hope for downtrodden'. They never asked me what I wanted. I just wanted to be a normal kid." "Yeah." Katrin sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, then rests her chin on her hand.  "So what do you want? Now?"

Lilliana looks at Katrin with a serious expression, but wistful. “I want to be able to live my own life without expectations of having to sacrifice for others that I don’t even know. And I want to live my life without fear of that which is hunting me. I just want a normal life, like the one my brother and sister got to live. If I am to make sacrifices, I want it to be because I made that choice… or at least to be the one responsible for the position.”  She gestures at her leg. 

A sense of relief flows through the Dragonborn, he expected derision and feared disgust. He truly never considered that she would understand. For once unsure of what to say, Akiran can only nod utter a quiet "Thank you". Akiran intently listens to Thezra's tale of her exile, and the brutality of her people. As she finishes he opens his snout, words of sympathy & condolence beginning to form, before realizing they'd serve little comfort to a warrior like Thezra. Meeting her eye he says "Ya proved yourself. Even after all the shit they put ya through, you kept fighting for em and proved that Daur'Ken's a lying snake. Even if they don't deserve it, they're free from him, because of you." With a good natured laugh, Akiran nods and says  "Aye, that'd be a clan made for the bards."

Matt B. said: Lilliana looks at Katrin with a serious expression, but wistful. “I want to be able to live my own life without expectations of having to sacrifice for others that I don’t even know. And I want to live my life without fear of that which is hunting me. I just want a normal life, like the one my brother and sister got to live. If I am to make sacrifices, I want it to be because I made that choice… or at least to be the one responsible for the position.”  She gestures at her leg.  Katrin's eyes flicker down to the leg, then back up. A normal life. As if that had ever been an option. The Ironstones were anything but normal. They were revered. Or they had been. Before the gun. Normal had never been an option. And from what she'd seen, it didn't seem like an option for Lilli either. She smiles wryly, the quirk of her lips tinged with sadness. "You're in the wrong business, if normal is what you want." Her eyes grow distant. "Sometimes, you don't get to choose. The path is chosen for you. And all you can do is walk. And hope that there's an end. Somewhere." It was apparent that Katrin was no longer talking about Lilli. 

For the first time in a long time, Thezra feels at ease sitting, bruised and bloodied, on the floor of the training hall with her dragonborn companion. This whole idea - the sparring, the game of questions - it'd all felt like a last resort. One final chance to make things work before going her own way. Whether it would actually mend anything between them wasn't something she'd even considered a strong possibility, but it had been worth a try. Still, she stopped short of telling herself anything was right as rain just yet. One beating and a bit of opening up wouldn't build a bridge off the island she'd placed herself on. But it was a start. "I don't know any bards or skalds," she rubs her chin thoughtfully, stopping only to grunt as she started to push herself up off the ground, "but if you'd like a song about it I have been told by my aunt I am rather good with traditional orcish baluk'fus... err, bagpipes. I'm translating but I believe her exact words were "That was certainly quite a noise you made." Stumbling over to the warrior, she lowers a hand for him and smiles, "To the rooms then? I have no more questions at the moment and the others are likely up by now." With a short pause she adds, "And thank you. I did not know what to expect from this but I'm glad you agreed to do it."

Emma H. said: Matt B. said: Lilliana looks at Katrin with a serious expression, but wistful. “I want to be able to live my own life without expectations of having to sacrifice for others that I don’t even know. And I want to live my life without fear of that which is hunting me. I just want a normal life, like the one my brother and sister got to live. If I am to make sacrifices, I want it to be because I made that choice… or at least to be the one responsible for the position.”  She gestures at her leg.  Katrin's eyes flicker down to the leg, then back up. A normal life. As if that had ever been an option. The Ironstones were anything but normal. They were revered. Or they had been. Before the gun. Normal had never been an option. And from what she'd seen, it didn't seem like an option for Lilli either. She smiles wryly, the quirk of her lips tinged with sadness. "You're in the wrong business, if normal is what you want." Her eyes grow distant. "Sometimes, you don't get to choose. The path is chosen for you. And all you can do is walk. And hope that there's an end. Somewhere." It was apparent that Katrin was no longer talking about Lilli.  Lilliana nods and smiles a small smile. "That is true. Maybe not so much that I want a normal life, but one free of the expectations of others for the way my life should be lived? Does that make sense? And, I don't want to be in fear all the time. To be constantly looking over my shoulder for the next group of vermin who come looking for me."  She looks at Katrin with a sense of profound epiphany. "I want to become more powerful and hunt those who have hunted me for so long. To make them feel that ever present  gnawing panic anytime someone you don't know brushes up against you in the marketplace or calls out your name or looks at you strangely. I want them to know what that is before I erase them from existence."  

Katrin nods slowly, her expression careful. "I would only offer you this piece of advice. Don't focus so much on vengeance that you lose who you are. I've seen how it can twist and destroy a person. I don't want that for you." Her uncle's face, twisted in fury as he fired the gun across the hall blurs into her mind, before she waves it away. Katrin sighs, then stands up, returning to her own bed, and begins strapping on her armor, lost in the memories of her family's brutal history.

Thrandimir's transcribing is interrupted by the door to the shop opening. Timm re-enters after having gone out to see about Lilliana's leg. He returns, carrying a large leather-bound box, and accompanied by a human figure, garbed in ornate tunic and tabard and holding a small scroll case. Timm's gaze lands on Thrandimir. "Hello, S-, er..Thrandimir," Timm says, almost slipping, having only been introduced to this alter-ego of Tim's earlier this morning. "Do you know where your friends are? This gentleman has a message for all of you."

Looking up at Timm and the new arrival, Thrandimir slowly lays down his quill and pushes himself to his feet, inspecting the second man who is wearing the colours of the local military. "I expect that that can be arranged, if you'll wait here for a moment while I gather them. Who should I say is calling?"

Timm looks carefully at the second man and clears his throat, shifting his weight uneasily between his feet. "Er...the king," Timm begins. The second man cuts him off. "King Darius Abbott, the First of his Name, Ruler of the Heartlands, True Emperor of Tollan, Protector of the Wildlands, Lord Protector of the Baervale Hills has a message for you and your friends, adventurer. I suggest you summon them at once."

Thrandimir has to suppress a snorted laugh when the messenger describes the king of the Virid Heartlands as the 'True Emperor of Tollan'. "I am a scholar , if it's all the same to you," he replies when referred to as an adventurer, "but I shall gather the Fireblades. Please wait here," the wizard assures the king's man, before disappearing into the back and heading for the party's quarters.

Lilliana pauses at Katrin's expression and folds inward contemplatively, nodding to the much wiser woman. "Thanks, Kat. I wish you were my real sister." She had a lot to think about, much of what she'd come to realize over the last few minutes and wise words shared, but before she could do any of that, she needed to walk again. She really hoped this artificer would be able to make good on the promises of a new leg...

Chuckling  "You'll have to play us some of that  ba...luk...'fus music, we'll need more than a few drinks first.  Taking her hand,   Akiran hauls himself to his feet. Noticing his still unarmored forearm "Ya need to get the kid kitted out, and get my gear back. Been feelin like I've been walking around naked with out it." 

Sliding the scarred arm back into her own vambrace, she nods, "Right. Well Ale'ken promised he'd be finished within the day, so we can head over afterwards." With her own gear back on and her sword slotted over her shoulder, she starts towards the group suite.  "It's a shame though," she grins, recalling his ever-gleaming armor,  "My eyes had finally adjusted to looking at you without all that glare."

Katrin glances over at Lilli, tightening the last strap of her armor. "Family isn't always blood," she says quietly. After a brief pause, she helps Lilli stand up. "Let's get you a working leg, alright?"