Part 2: The meeting of paths

Akiran slowly nods, it finally dawning on him that the man he offended would be handling his most prized possession. Taking some solace that if the man was kin with Thezra he is much more likely to bash in his face than take the cowards route of destroying his gear. Satisfied the Dragonborn slowly begins to loosen his armors straps, unbuckling the ornate pieces of metal and neatly stacking them into a pile. Left in his silk tunic underlay and pants, quickly ties his belt back on grateful for the familiar weight of his blade and gold pouch even if he is left with little else. Reaching into his pouch he takes out 15 more coins and holds them out to the Orc adding "For a speedy return."

Ale'ken nods to Thezra, and then takes Akiran's armor without taking the extra gold. "You can't rush this," he says. "Come back tomorrow after noon. It'll be ready then." He moves into a back room and then returns with a small box. He passes it to Thezra. "30 gold for these supplies. Should have everything you need."

The Dragonborn's snout nearly drops "Tomorrow, I thought this would be an over lunch kind of deal." He almost moves to grab his gear back but the allure of his magnificent armor enhanced with magic to never dirty, smudge, or stain stays his hand. And besides they were only going to pick mushrooms today, what's the worst that could happen. Pocketing his gold he says in a sincere voice "Please be careful, this armor is my life & pride." 

Ale'ken nods gravely. "It will be treated well," he says. He looks to Thezra again. "Was there anything else you needed?"

"No,"  she looks around the place as she gathers the materials from the man, and nods contently, "I think I've already gotten more than I hoped for. Thank you, Ale'ken, Tenosha  to none. I hope our paths cross again."

With all preparatory business concluded, the Fireblades meet back up at the guild hall. Sable is there, working on transcribing some spells. Lilliana is also there, nursing her hangover -- which has quickly lessened after drinking the concoction from the gnomish cook.  Reunited, they prepare for the short journey ahead.

Katrin walks out of the room she slept in, finishing tightening a strap on her armor, fixing it in place. She looks over at Ascian. "I found a tailor to make the underlay for Ember. We'll have at least that before we leave for Dragonvale."

Ascian is carefully rearranging arrows in the quivers crossed across his back with some of the ones bought from the fletcher. He looks up at Katrin, then down to Ember, and back. His all-but-empty coin pouch is alarmingly light at his belt, though his opposite hip is heavier with its corresponding purchase. "Thanks. How much was it." He pauses and looks across the room at Akiran. "Did you get the money."

Sable is lounging on the couch in the guild hall, feet up as he lazily tosses a small golden ball into the air above him and catches it. "Oh, did somebody say money?" He adds with faux innocence and his usual smirk, also glancing in Akiran's direction.

Katrin just shakes her head, smiling. "You don't owe me anything, Ascian. I'm always happy to help a friend. And it was about time Ember got something of his own, to keep him safe. He's as much a member of this group as you are, after all."

Ascian hesitates, but ultimately shakes his head too. “I should pay for him. He’s my responsibility.” The word feels wrong between his teeth, so unused to having it in this sort of context; one look down at the wolf nevertheless tells him it’s true. 

Akiran whips out the sack of gold with a flourish "Of course! The General wasn't overly keen for our continued services but she did pay us what was owed." And begins dishing out the gold to the rest. Nodding at Ash "It is well worth a bit of gold. Having a wolf at our side is a fierce sight. But having Ember howling at our foes in ornately wrought armor forged by two of the finest smiths in Estros"  throwing a wink to Katrin "That my friend is a deadly statement, maybe enough to give those would  oppose us a reason to think again. As I said well worth a few coins."

Katrin nods to Ash. "If you insist. She offered me a price of 20 gold. 10 up front, 10 upon completion." She glances over at Akiran, smiling faintly. "I would hardly consider myself one of the finest smiths. That title goes to my father. But I appreciate the compliment."

Lilliana, feeling refreshed, listens quietly to everyone, thinking that perhaps she had better keep her mouth shut after last night’s embarrassing outburst. Her head felt so much better after the odd drink the gnome had given her and her stomach was not nearly as queasy with good food in it, but her throat was still a little raw from the hangover cure. 

Sable snatches the ball that he's toying with from the air and happily accepts the gold from Akiran. "What's next? Mushroom hunting?"

"I don't know if he can howl. I've never heard him."  Ascian takes the gold from Akiran, silently handing the 20 he owed Katrin to the dwarf. He looks down at the wolf, never having considered it before, before the wizard's question prompts him further. "Yeah. It's not far."

The Fireblades head out, first stopping at a jeweler to offload seven bars of gold and four large jewels -- much to the dwarven jeweler's surprise. More than a thousand coin richer, they head out of the city, following Anastasia's map. After an hour or so -- the city left far behind -- they turn off the Heartlands Trivard and begin moving through the hills.  Quickly, the overcast grey of the clouds descends to rest only a few feet from the ground. After a few hours of cutting through the mist as best they can, the Fireblades begin to notice tall, dark figures looming through the fog -- only to realize that they're large trees. Small, spiny bushes begin to crop up in their path, tugging at pants, robes, and cloaks alike. Katrin consults her orb of direction every so often, and watches the crystal inside spin madly. With the fog closing in on all sides, and now thickets covering their path, there's only one conclusion to be had: they're lost.

Katrin stops walking, putting her orb away with a sigh. She turns around to her friends. "I hate to say it. But I think we're lost." She looks down at the map again, frowning. Then back up to their surroundings. She pulls out the orb again, and her frown deepens. "And I don't think it has anything to do with the wrong path. Something....magical is happening. I don't think it's good."

Lilliana sighs as she stares around at the terribly thick fog. She had become lost miles and miles back, and had been following Katrin’s lead. “Don’t worry, I’ve been lost the entire time.” She smiles, but looks at Katrin. “What makes you think it’s magical?”

Katrin taps the small orb in her hand. "This compass? It always points north. But now...it can't find north." She shows the rest of them the wildly spinning crystal inside. 

Akiran nearly flinches and fails to suppress numerous grumbles as the thicket pushes directly against his scaly hide. The familiar comfort and protection of his second skin strikingly absent. The Dragonborn rarely left his room without his second skin, let alone made his way through whatever the hell curse this was. Seemed like every thorn and branch found a way to prick his scales and smash his legs, the only thing keeping him moving is the thought of his armor gleaming brighter than the sun. Though his mood spoils again when Katrin says their lost, in a low grumble his usual cheery tone growly and curt says  "I told ya we shoulda gave the map to Sable. Man spends his whole day readin, an we don't give em the map. An' now we're in the backend of nowhere"

Katrin pauses, then looks up at Akiran, her face hard. "Would you like to try to navigate us out of this magical fog? It's too late for should'ves, Akiran. All we can do now is work with what we've got. Do you think I'm happy about this?"

Lilliana moves over to look at Katrin’s compass, staring at the odd movements. “How strange…”  she murmurs, but before she could say much more about it, Akiran’s grumblings reaches her ears and she casts a glance at Katrin with a grimace. 

Thezra spent most of the walk blissfully enjoying the serenity of the nature around them, happy to be out of the noisiness of human civilization. The idea of getting lost was almost rather appealing actually, if it meant more time in the ever-ethereal tranquility of this scenery. As the reality of their predicament dawns on them all though, she approaches and places a hand on Katrin's shoulder.  "Don't worry Katrin, I know this is not your fault. Besides, I've often found getting lost can be the best way to find what you need when exploring. Just be careful in the mists and stick together. Easy to get swallowed up by it quickly, and I imagine we'd rather stick together here."

Akiran matches her look, unconsciously choosing to feed his anger rather than his growing sense of vulnerability. "Can't never been a navigator, not my skill set." with a significant emphasis on skill set.    Turning his snout to Sable, he'd found in their limited time that Sable had the rare combination of genuinely intelligent, and ruthlessly pragmatic. That Akiran enjoyed in his companions adding his tone gruff but less aggravated   "What do you think?" thinking for a moment he adds with a nods towards Lilli "Can you sense any magic?"

Ascian is down on a knee beside Ember, whose small whimpers had raised more concern than the mist that seemed to be prompting them. His hands are insistent in the wolf's fur, trying to calm him as he had so often calmed Ascian.  "We should have found a cave," he says slowly. He thinks vaguely of Barnes, and the half-elf's comment that religious figures weren't always there to help. "Did she send us somewhere wrong."

Thankful for the excuse to avoid the flaring tempers, Lilliana turns brightly towards Akiran with a smile. “Oh, yeah, I can definitely do that.” She closes off her ears from the distracting banter as she focuses on the fog, but without additional delving into any potential magical substance. “Well, I mean… there are plenty of things that could create a magical fog, but most of the time it’s smaller, localized areas not… this.” She vaguely gestures around. “I can use my magic to examine the magical auras of this place to make a better determination of its source.”

Though his mood spoils again when Katrin says their lost, in a low grumble his usual cheery tone growly and curt says  "I told ya we shoulda gave the map to Sable. Man spends his whole day readin, an we don't give em the map. An' now we're in the backend of nowhere" "Aaah, Akiran," Sable maunders, taking a deep breath of the moist air, "have a little respect for the difference between knowledge-" The wizard gestures to the spellbook hanging at his hip. "-and wisdom ," he finishes gesturing to Katrin in turn. "Our fearless leader may not be Callahan, but she knows well enough what she's doing. No, this is something else entirely." While Lilliana talks, Sable busies himself leafing through his spellbook until he finds the correct incantation and begins mumbling words in old Tollanian and weaving patterns through the mist with his fingers. "Save your strength," he tells her with a chuckle. "Now, let's see what we have here..."

Lilliana turns to look at Sable l, watching him cast his ritual. Once finished, she looks at him. “What language was that?”

"Old Tollanian," Sable murmurs absent mindedly, gazing around as chromantic auras shift into focus. The billowing fog is now yellow like mustard, while the thorns have turned a deep brown. "This is wild, druidic magic," he notes, "in the fog and in the thorns. Callahan wielded similar power, but this is on a far greater scale."

"A bold assumption," a drifting feminine voice says, carrying softly over the mist and fog. 

"Or fey ," Sable adds drily. "Same wheelhouse, really. It's all nature magic." "What do you want?" He calls back into the mist.

"Two more assumptions," the voice says again. "I thought you would have been the smart one, with how you're dressed."

"Assumptions are the heart of all hypotheses," Sable quips back at the sourceless voice. "Magic such as yours is typically seen in certain forms, from certain sources, the most common being the most likely. If you know so much better, then show yourself!" The wizard brandishes his staff and its tip swells with golden light.

As Sable talks to...whatever is in the mist, she quietly spins her own spell, feeling out to the edges for anything that might indicate a creature of fey or fiendish origin. Surprisingly, she senses nothing. She looks at Sable. "Whatever this is, it's not fey." Or not close enough.

The metal against Ascian's prominent sternum begins to warm, and he uses that same sense that lets him hop from one mind to another to try and cast a wider net. He doesn't know what he'd been expecting, exactly - but it wasn't silence. "I can't feel her. She doesn't have a mind, or isn't near," he says with a small frown. "At least not very."

The mist swirls and then subsides. "Some things are better left to the aether, wizard." A cold breeze carrying a faint acrid scent flits by. "Now, it's my turn. What brings you out here to the edges of this wood?"

Sable tilts his head to the one side and then the other. "Mushrooms," he admits with an amused smile, "for healing potions."

"Ah," the voice says, seemingly musing on that for a moment. "You seem to have gotten lost. What are we going to do about that, I wonder?"

Ascian stands with a frown, looking slowly around the radius of the mist. "You're scaring my wolf."

Sable glances back at Ascian, before returning to his conversation with the mist. "Can we do something about that ?  The kid loves his wolf. "

"Oh dear ," the voice says, not without a little mocking in the tone. "Well, we can't have that." There's a pause, as the voice seems to ponder. The mist swirls, and Ember whimpers again. "What's it worth to you?"

"It's worth finding what we came here for." She glances at first Sable, then Ash. "Scaring Ember isn't really all that courteous. We're here to help a friend. Nothing more." 

"A lot." Ascian looks at the wizard as if for confirmation it was okay to say that, moving close to Ember as if he has body heat to share. "What are you."

"Well, well, a lot ," the voice says. "That's incredibly non-specific. I assume you'd like to leave this oh-so dreadful  mist. So I say again, what's it worth to you?"

Sable rolls his eyes. "Do you want something done?" The wizard asks, leaning on his staff. "Everybody wants something done. We go places and do things for people. Retrieve items. Handle problems. What do you need?"

The voice chuckles, a soft sound -- not at all like the ground-shaking rumble that accompanies it. The damp ground beneath the Fireblades seems to roll.  "I need nothing, wizard. But you have wandered into my lands. How would one of your grubby little empires put it? A toll? A tax. Something must be paid, and then you can continue on your way. Not only that, but I'll be sure you get where you need to go."

"And just what is this tax? What could we possibly have that you want?" Katrin says into the mist, ignoring the rumbling ground beneath her feet.

"And therein lies the question," the voice says. "But it's not about what I want. It's about the things you want. The things you have striven for, that aren't easily replaced. Things you cherish . That  is what I want." After a few quiet moments, the voice says, "But I am merciful. One of you may pay the tax for the entire group, and you can all be about your business."

Katrin shies away from the first thing to appear in her mind. Rose. No. She'd worked too hard, suffered too much to lose the woman she loves. She looks around at everyone, suddenly wondering what things they are all afraid to lose.  If she was willing to give up....no. She couldn't. She'd only met these people a month ago. She had known Rose for almost four years. There wasn't a question in her mind. There couldn't be.