Henry Group RP Forum

Location: Gorgon Battlefield Date/Time: 17th of Aryth, after walk with Stella Who: Nala, Rune Nala , who had been quite pleased with the impression she made on Rune , flicked her eyes up jut as he winked at her, after having asked if she'd like to cloud gaze with him. The question caught her off guard; Nala wasn't used to being asked to do such frivolous activities, at least not anymore. Something inside her, perhaps the child who never knew a childhood, clawed at her insides.  "Yes, that sounds quite pleasant." She said, sitting down in the grass. She waited until Rune joined her and then laid down, staring up at the clouds, noting that they were cumulonimbus: the perfect clouds for making out shapes. She laughed softly as she saw a small goblin figure in one. Meanwhile, Puff crawled on top of her stomach and laid himself down to take a nap.

Location: Gorgon Battlefield Date/Time: 17th of Aryth, midday Who: Hendrick and Nala Stella and Rune?.. Questioned about them, Hendrick realized he hasn't really thought about them much yet other than the rough categorization he undertook upon being introduced by Gautreme . "Trouble." is the only thing he was thinking back then. And that has not changed much so far. "It is hard to say. They sure are trustworthy to some degree, otherwise Gautreme would not have chosen them for this task." He recalled Rune's mindreading ability and Stella's magical prowess he already experienced along the journey. "They sure are colourful." He noticed those two coming back from their private time. "Who knows what they will bring, but they definitely look like adventure."

Location: Gorgon Battlefield Date/Time: 17th of Aryth, after walk with Stella Who: Nala, Rune Admiring the clouds, Rune hears Nalas quiet laughs and without looking over “See something funny?” What an interesting world. I wonder if my daughter likes to look up at clouds. If she spots the shapes and smiles. Oh what I wouldn’t give to see her smile...  For the second time that day, thoughts of his daughter pressed in. Unwilling to cry, he closes his eyes and tries to distract himself by listening to the breeze.

Still Short Rest @ Gorgon Battlefield, Before Nala Scene “Her birthday?” That made Stella smile. “I’m sure they spoiled her rotten. New dresses, and delicious food, and gifts from her family, and all of her favourite things. They probably made her feel like a princess for the day. I’m sorry you missed it.” The offer of chocolate just about made her day. She actually stopped him from walking on just so she could focus on enjoying her chocolate. Savouring every last bit of sweetness. She closed her eyes with a blissful sigh as the rich flavour melted on her tongue, then licked her fingers, feeling no shame whatsoever. Chocolate was more important than manners. “Mmm. You know the way to a girl’s heart. Let’s walk and enjoy the flowers.” Stella tucked her arm through his. Silence suited her just fine for now. She had a lot of planning to do.

Location: Campsite few hours out of the Star Haunt Date/Time: Night of the 17th of Aryth Who: Stella, Hendrick, ??? Stella  seemed determined to talk to Hendrick  as quickly as possible. He however seemed not particularly focused, as she walked him into the woods. After a while, he could barely make out the light of the camp fire anymore, they came to a small clearing. On its rim a fallen beech tree looked as good a place as any right now and he slowly placed himself to one side of the improvised bench. The wood felt surprisingly cold and damp - even through his robes. Come think of it, he couldn't actually remember the last proper rain. "Lady Stella, what is it you want to discuss?" He had a good idea, at least he thought, but he has been surprised before.

It had been six hours since they had first reached the grim walls of the Starhaunt. Five hours since they had broken bread with a pack of shifters around a fire while a direwolf dozed. Four hours since Thaldrin had put an arrow in the heart of her cover story in front of the entire party. And all that time, Stella Starling had been waiting for the hammer to drop. Thaldrin should have murdered her the second he figured out what she was. The rest of the shifters would not be merciful if they caught up with her. And her own party now had every reason to turn on her, even kill her. The only question was whether they knew that yet. Her spine crawled with the certainty of what was coming. But that wasn’t why she had kidnapped Hendrick at the first opportunity for a private heart-to-heart. Far from it. Hendrick watched from his fallen tree with the creepy calm that everyone probably found reassuring at first. No doubt he would be smoking his pipe if he still had it, just to double down on his wandering priest act - the stern face, the threadbare robes. Thaldrin had put an arrow in that story too. A shark, that was what Thaldrin had called him. Just like Stella. She was a shark too. And the more Stella seethed over what had happened back at the Starhaunt, the more she wondered how alike she and Hendrick really were. If she had had orders to kill Thaldrin, would she have done it? Risking her own party? The lives of innocent bystanders? Just like Hendrick? Most likely nothing she could say would get past his battered armour, but Stella really needed to know what kind of man she was dealing with here. “I’m not a coward, Hendrick. I didn’t refuse to interfere in your duel out of fear. I did it because that man did not deserve to die. He’s already been punished beyond anything you can do to him. It would take a full, long life with his family to even begin to heal what’s broken in him. And if I’d interfered, either your party or his family would have been slaughtered. Probably both. Did Nala really need to die there?”

... Did Nala really need to die there? He let her words sink in and sat in silence for a while. His hand moved into his coat pocket and a brief look of disappointment showed in his eyes. It was gone for good. The new girl, Stella, was most curious. Thaldrin noticed something in her, but Hendrick did not quite know what. Regardless, she needed to make a point now. A valid point to some degree, yet ill-informed. "I apologize, Lady Stella. I was not planning on having this escalate the way it did. I don't believe you do be a coward and I believe holding back was required to stop any needless bloodshed. You did, what you had to do. And so did I." His voice started to show unusual signs of anger. "Did you think we were going to get out of there without some form of repercussions after Thaldrin spread these stories about me if I did not agree to a duel? Look at you, standing here, accusing me of bringing your life in danger. Yet, here you are, well and alive, whilst I was at the mercy of a religious fanatic turned sentimental in his older days. This was not about punishment, dear. His family you call them, ha! Little do you know." He took a deep breath and looked up at the light of the few stars he could see in from his bench. "However you might feel about what happened in the Starhaunt or what you perceive me to be, I did not mean to bring harm upon any of you. And for that I apologize."

A religious fanatic? Stella bit seven hells out of her tongue trying to keep her reaction inside. Hendrick had been prepared to slaughter a man and his whole family at dinner on orders from his precious Silver Flame, yet Stella would bet her last copper piece that Thaldrin would have let them go unharmed had Hendrick not demanded satisfaction. Yet Hendrick seemed sincere. Had he really not seen how badly the shifters had wanted not to fight them? Stella took a seat on the root end of the fallen beech, just a short distance from Hendrick, even though she had seen his hand dip into his pocket. Maybe for a weapon of some kind. She didn’t read that kind of hostile tension in his shoulders, but it wouldn’t be the first time she had been stabbed without warning. “I didn’t want to harm you either, Hendrick. And I feel… a little bad about not stepping in to defend you. I feel like that’s a duty one party member owes another just to make life on the road survivable. If it had only been Thaldrin, I might have intervened. But the other shifters, and the rest of the party…” Especially Nala. She was emotionally invested in Hendrick for some reason. Personal loyalty? Romantic feelings? Some weird warlock thing? Who knew? For some reason, watching her get dropped in two casual blows had made Stella’s heart squeeze a little tighter. Stella had even stood over her unconscious body with some ridiculous notion of defending her. Getting murdered in her place, more likely. Stupid. “Well, I’m happy we’re all alive, at least.”

Hendrick stared into the distance. "Yet you have made your choice the way you did. Please, do not feel bad for actions you would take again." He looked at the girl sat next to him. She really reminded him of Sara. It wasn't so much the face, although in that light it came remarkably close. But there was this darkness in these brown eyes, something a girl like her should not have to walk through life with. Stella shouldn't have to at least. It was too late for Sara. There was sadness in him, like he had not felt for years. Stella though looked ready to strike at any moment, something Hendrick took very personal. He slowly moved his hand out of his pocket, the other one up from the trunk and put both on his legs, clearly in view of Stella. There was fear in her eyes, not just of pain but discovery. Her arms folded in front of her, her body leaning away. No doubt she did not want to share any of Thaldrin's discoveries. He took his eyes back to the stars. "Regardless of my mission, I did not go there to murder an old man over supper, without having spoken to him in a civilized manner. That, however, I was denied. I do not fully understand what you think of me, but it would not surprise me if you would be more dangerous to yourself than I ever could be." He paused for a moment. "Here, let me show you something." He moved his hands very slowly to his backpack, always making sure Stella could very easily follow anything he was doing, and fetched a candle and his tinderbox. He bent over, half sliding of the fallen tree, his robe getting damp where his knees touched the forest ground, and dug a small hole with his hands for the candle to stand in. It was lid within no time and he got back into his earlier spot, somewhat trying to wipe the dirt of his long clothes, looking rather phased. He shook himself out of this mental inconvenience and pointed at the small flame before him. "This is what it is all about. Regardless where it is lid or when or even by whom, this flame is pure. Something few of us will ever be able to be. I am by no means as versed in the theological discourses as many fellow followers are, but this is what it always boils down to. Can we be as good and pure as this flame here? Yet war plagues the world. Curses drown the lands. The undead spawn in alarming numbers. Evidently we still have a long way to go."

Location: Campsite few hours out of the Star Haunt Date/Time: Night of the 17th of Aryth Who: Blue , Grandpa,  A wooden rock, and the night sky The stars seemed to twinkle dimly with an ethereal presence tonight. They left Blue feeling as if he'd seen a few more ghosts than normal and that's quite a feat considering one lived in his head. Though, maybe that's why they called the place Star Haunt. Those little light balls hang creepily over you, stalking you step for step, but never moving like little sky ghosts. "Dumb sky ghosts!", murmurs  Blue towards the heavens, breaking the silence of his little corner of camp.  He sat on the edge of the fire's light with his back to the group. His legs tucked up to his chest and his arms hold them together as he hugs himself. The conversation of Hendrick and Stella blurs together with the sound of the fire and the nighttime ambiance to form a white noise. All Blue  could focus on were those dumb sky ghosts and the little wooden rock in his right hand that he'd been thumbing for hours. " Why'd it have to be Fearfacer ?" Blue glumly thought to himself, "After all, it's like Grandpa says, I'm the worthless one. I can't even hit anything with my ax and I cry all the time. Fearfacer was strong and brave and cool. I'm not even the real Rockbrother anymore." " He he", Blue laughed to   himself on that dumb thought."'Cus he made of rock now.", he whispered to himself while wiping away the tears swelling in his eyes. Blue  looked to the night sky once more, but this time the tears made the dumb little sky ghosts blur into white spirals. They danced as his face quivered ever so slightly,but they were eclipsed as he held the wooden rock into the sky. "I promise I'll be strong and brave and send all the bad guys to Pound Town for you Fearfacer !", Blue  declared to the fake rock hanging in the sky. "No you won't you wimp!", chimed in Grandpa  matter-of-factly. Even so, Blue  smiled at the wood rock, which made him see the really kick-ass, cool ghost of his lost friend. 

Even though Hendrick had clearly noticed her wariness, nonetheless, his deliberately slow movements allowed her shoulders to relax a bit and she could breathe a bit deeper. Six hours was a long time to wait for the hammer to drop. For somebody to start thinking hard about what had happened there. For somebody to remember what story Thaldrin had told them while staring hard at Stella. All that time she had been braced for the inevitable questions that would surely lead to violence. How exactly did you know what Hendrick was? Is it a coincidence that you were hired by Gautreme to rescue us? What were you doing in the Black Orb Inn that evening? What in all the hells are you really doing here? Stella could maybe talk her way out of that conversation with sufficient inventiveness, but she somehow didn’t think fluttering her eyelashes and decking him with flowers would work as well on Hendrick as it clearly did on Rune. And Nala. Making it pretty damn likely she was going to be swarmed and killed by a five-person adventuring party. But maybe not right now? Maybe not tonight. She clasped her hands together, letting a few deep breaths clear her head and ease a little more of her tension. “My apologies, Hendrick. It’s not personal. I’ve had some… memorable experiences with previous parties.” Maybe Thaldrin had realised that too? That she had no true allies in her party, that he had signed her death warrant, and that this wasn’t even the first time this had happened to her? Maybe that was the subtext behind his parting words to her. I am sorry you did not choose your life… But she had chosen it. Hadn’t she? Fucking clerics. Paladins. Whatever. Stella slipped her flask from her pocket and uncapped it, releasing the scent of mulled spices into the night air, as Hendrick bent to light his little candle. The tiny flame wavered before them, only making the huge darkness around them press in all the more. It felt lonely out here, far from civilisation. For all she knew there wasn’t another living creature for miles except that hill giant that had stomped off earlier. She drank from her flask and stared at the single flame in the darkness. “I’ve never understood what’s so pure about fire. The hearthfire a child falls into leaves permanent scars. The wildfire that sweeps through a town leaves nothing but grief and ashes behind. It’s no different from any other natural force of destruction. A storm, perhaps. An earthquake. You must see something I don’t.” Probably because of his ridiculous insight modifier.

... You must see something I don't. The light of the candle had something calming, even soothing. However, it was evident that this effect was not transferable onto Stella. She seemed less likely to attack him, but the fear of what Hendrick might discover within those dark eyes of hers was still to subside. "Without the hearth fire, there would be no warmth in the house. Nor would there be a loving meal with ones family. Without the wildfire, there would be overgrowth and lack of fertile soil to live of." He paused for a moment.  Loved ones would not be burned alive without the fire either, Hendrick thought bitterly. "It is not the fire that wanders out and burns down villages. All it needs is fuel to eat, air to breathe and the spark of life. And in return it brings light into darkness and warmth into the hearts. Only by poor guidance and ill-will a flame can turn into a greedy fire, devouring anything one puts in front of it." The flame flickered lightly in the mild breeze. This place was so quiet, Hendrick even thought he could hear the sound of the fire dining on the candle put before it, as if it wanted to show its gratitude by enjoying the meal in a jolly manner.  "I have hope, maybe a rare commodity these days, that we can be as pure. We maybe miss-guided, maybe short on candles to sustain ourselves without greed. I could follow down the path Thaldrin opened up, inquiring about what you keep secret so dearly. But to what end? To get an edge over you? To fulfill my greed for knowledge? To have reason to judge you or worse? After what transpired at the Star Haunt, I will be running out of candles soon, Lady Stella. I have no interest in taking yours away from you, for it would not matter, but more importantly it is not who I am nor who I aspire to be." Slowly but surely the signs of consumption were visible on the candle, which grew shorter and shorter, seemingly at an ever increasing rate. "I would be glad to also share some of your burden, if that is what you desired. But please, do not fear me." He solemnly stared into the flame. "Remember when you accused me of bringing harm to everyone around me, with what I had done at the Star Haunt. Harm did not come to any of you. I genuinely hope you will be able to say the same thing yourself in the future."

Stella had begun to wonder how much Hendrick actually knew about fire. Apparently not enough to realise that the most intense fires didn’t require any human intervention at all. One lightning strike in a tinder-dry forest and the winds could fan it into an inferno stretching a hundred miles across, incinerating everything in its path until it ran out of fuel. Perhaps it was simpler to believe his flame was pure and innocent, not a natural disaster in waiting. And that metaphor was so obvious, even Puff couldn’t fail to realise they might actually be talking about his church. Her fingertips drummed briefly on her knee before Stella took a slow sip from her flask, letting the silence draw out. The taste of cinnamon and ginger warmed her tongue. “Well, I appreciate your restraint, Hendrick. Especially since Rune pulled a dagger on me to try to convince me to answer his questions. He has a good heart and he meant well by it, but it was… disconcerting. I’m finding your lack of daggers far more amicable.” She caught herself keeping the flask at her lips, physically hiding words. No wonder Hendrick could read her like a decrypted plaintext. “I might share some… secrets some day. With the right person, at the right moment. Perhaps you’re that person? But this is not that moment.” The candle burned low. Against so much pressing darkness, the single flame stung her eyes and left an imprint whenever she blinked. The night stillness felt private, like a time to share confidences. Maybe there was some magic in the flame? Maybe it was an enchanted candle. Or maybe Stella was just an idiot. She looked over at him. “What happens when a cleric of the Silver Flame runs out of candles, Hendrick?”

... What happens when a cleric of the Silver Flame runs out of candles, Hendrick? Hendrick was glad that Stella decided to not take him up on the offer of being council to her. He was sure, he would not have been ready to hear another story of sorrow and pain, sprinkled with madness and the illusion, that there was no other conceivable way. Currently he just did not have the energy for that. "The offer stands for as long as you want. And I still have candles, I guess." Regret flashed before his eyes. There is much he felt he still needed doing, in this time of war and despair. "Truly, Stella, I do not know what will happen to this cleric. It is only fitting that today I have lit the first of my ten candles I brought with me from Thrane all those years ago." He remembered his homeland, to beautiful fields near his home town, the happiness and bliss. The way Sara used to steal his favourite chicken when he they were still children. And only to get him to play with her. Her dad taught him how to play dragonchess. He was of higher stature, but seemed to take a liking in Hendrick while he still was a boy. Those were happier times. People were less rash in their decision-making, a quality he was hoping for in Thaldrin. He would have liked to hear him out. A conversation without any hatred, but he was put in the spot of bringing all of his companions into the line of fire. Or fighting a fight, he likely would not have been able to ever win. His voice resonated bitterly. "Thaldrin's candles have run out long ago. Yet, he is feeding of those poor souls around him. Opinions about these shifters might vary, maybe even between us, although my heart tells me otherwise. I think what he did, actually is still doing, by being with them, amassing people who's families he slaughtered without question. I mean using them as shield to flee the church, remorse or not, this is not the way of the flame. There is good in all of us, yet he hides underneath the cover of remorse within the ranks of people who will, if the church ever wanted to deal with the problem as a priority, be killed in the process."  Maybe it was the will of the flame, maybe it happened the way it was supposed to. "I have been sent here to try and right some of my wrongs, to become a flame which brings light rather than turns things to ash. So this failure here was not the reason for the situation I find myself in. It marked merely the beginning of the end of my working." Hendrick noted the candle slowly dying in front of him. "I have one question for you, please, answer truthfully or not at all. What are your impressions and feelings regarding this band of people and how do you see yourself fit in? This is not the time for politeness or holding back." His voice got slightly coarse as he saw the flame's fight for life unfold before him.

Stella rubbed her thumb absently along her lower lip as she thought very hard. Hendrick didn’t seem to anticipate being swarmed by church assassins after failing to complete his mission back at the Starhaunt. So that was a relief. Having met Gautreme at the Mermaid’s Reef, Stella had suspected their organisation might be in the habit of routinely murdering underperforming agents. Maybe they were more forgiving than she’d anticipated? Maybe she’d been too hard on Gautreme. No. Definitely the employee-murdering type. An ambush could be waiting when they went to pick up the twelve hundred gold pieces she and Rune were owed from that job back in Taer Valaestas. Once again, she had to bite her tongue on the subject of Thaldrin. Hendrick could read her so easily, yet he had spectacularly failed to understand his fellow Flame operative. Thaldrin had practically begged for time to send his shifters away if the church was coming to punish him. He had been willing to die alone rather than let them suffer with him. Perhaps getting humiliated in single combat had soured Hendrick’s viewpoint. But it wasn’t worth quarrelling over, not now. All Stella said was, “You’re a long way from Thrane.” Literally, temporally and metaphorically. As to the rest of the party? A little triangulation exercise, perhaps? Find out who knew whose secrets, whose loyalty lay with whom, who would go to war for whom? Stella didn’t even hesitate. “Rune is one of those rogues with a heart of gold. You know the type. Rob from the rich, give to the poor. Save maidens. Rescue lost puppies from wells. Nala? She seems friendly, but who knows what dark powers a warlock serves. Also she’s very good-looking, if you like them tall and scaly, and I’m finding I do. I might see if I can brighten her day. Varron is some type of serial killer. He apparently has a compulsion to announce himself to his enemies, so I don’t think he’ll last long. Blue, I don’t know at all. He listens to a voice in his head, but I’ve met weirder. As for you? I think you see plenty of things very clearly, and a few things not so well. No offence intended.” Stella drank from her flask, wishing it was alcohol. A good strong wine would fortify her right now. Anything to warm up this cold feeling that still lingered in the pit of her stomach. “You wonder how I fit into this party? I’m the one who sees a threat in every shadow. I’m the one who knows a gorgon is right behind that stone wall because it’s just too strong an ambush site. I’m the one who expects betrayal, weighs odds, and plans exit strategies. I also like wine, puppies and chocolate. And now you know more true things about me than anyone else in this party does.”

Rune sneaks back to the campsite content with what he has heard.

Yes, maybe he finally found what he had been longing for since his arrival in these foreign lands. Bizarre in a way how the person he had been looking for turned out to be so similar to Sara. Maybe not so much the superficial paranoia and way of seeing relationships just as game. Or worse traps. But there was this sadness. It pained him to see her eyes. Exactly like Sara. There was this determination, rooted in pain. The kind that does not reason. Or forgive. He felt pity for this young girl. She had still so much of her life left, yet seemingly nothing worthwhile to live for. He hoped he was wrong, but either way. She was by far the most suitable person.  "Hmm, I see. You managed to get an overview very quickly. Also, I would never be offended by your opinion, particularly if it contains the truth as perceived by you. I do not know why you are here. I mean, yes you are doing a job, trying to get us out. That is not what I mean though. Was it really chance that got you here? I don't believe you mean us any harm, although I think you might be juggling a bit more than you should. Or are even able to." Hendrick thought back about the other people he had the pleasure to walk this path with. There was Lupin. He had absolutely adored him. He was careful at first, such a magical being of great power, the church might not have liked that much. Well, at least they would have been reserved. But Lupin was loyal. And pure. Nothing faced him much and he did not act out of blunt emotions. Jeezargo on the other hand was special. Poor creature, trapped in a hostile world. If only he had had more time, Hendrick might have been able to help him. He did not take failure lightly. And this might have been his second biggest so far. Come to think of it, he has had little time to really mourn. He never really knew what to think about Fearfacer. An obscenity out of place in any civilized world, yet bound by some code of honour, leading to great deeds in the face of adversary. He would have been excellent knight material. "I have been in the company of some of those people for a while now. And while you have only been with us for such a short time, you seem to understand. I believe this here, us, that bunch of people is gifted by the light. I am not talking about any prophecy or anything. But every single one of them has the spark of grandeur." The breeze seemed to pick up a bit, an eerie sound like a distant howl. "I want to atone for what I have done. And I believe this is the only thing I can still do to make this happen. I set out to bring good into this world and banish evil. This bunch of unique adventurers over there in camp somehow have the potential to do this. I need them to. Yet their personalities had caused terrible trouble in the past. Intrigues even. I did everything in my power to avoid this from happening, but I have failed. I tried to be the glue to hold this bunch of misfits together. I probably did not do it well enough, otherwise you would have had the pleasure of meeting Lupin or Jeezargo. But I believe in this" The wind was about to blow out the struggling candle any moment now. Hendrick slowly, yet determinedly, reached for Stella's hand and placed it between his leathery worked ones. Stella was clearly startled, not quite sure what to make of it, but didn't intervene. He turned sideways and lent forward a bit, without actually getting any closer, but still getting a good look at her face and her perplexed eyes. "We are both aware, I am running out of candles and who knows what will happen then. But if that time comes, I do not want you to interfere. What I need you to do though, is continuing this path towards a brighter future. I need you to be the glue for these people. Hold them together best you can, finish what I might not be able to. You understand them, you have an understanding of the dangers of this world. And, whilst troubled in many ways, you can succeed where others might not. Today I have given you the most precious gift of them all. Trust." Hendrick slowly placed Stella's hand back at her side and re-claimed his initial seating position. I am sorry.  They were sitting in darkness with only sparse light from the sky reflecting on the single tear running down Hendrick's cheek. The flame was gone.

“What?” Stella sputtered. “That’s… I don’t… what?” What in the unholy hells was going on here? Who was this wandering cleric with his stern face and his soft voice? How did she know so much about him and yet so little? Was he deceiving her? Easing her in to falsely trusting him? Trying to seduce her in a very weird way? Or something even more unexpected? He was playing her. He had to be. Stella had never met a more colourful pack of misfits and scoundrels in her life. She still wasn’t certain they hadn’t murdered a hundred guardsmen back in Taer Valaestas. They probably had a bounty on their heads worth ten times more than she and Rune were getting paid for protecting them. The spark of grandeur? All of them? Even Varron? A spark of crazy, maybe. Was Hendrick lining her up to protect and guide his party after he ran out of candles? Even save them? No. No. No. Stella did not save people. She ruined things. That was her whole job. Ruiner of things. “Hendrick. You don’t understand. I’m not religious. I don’t believe in anyone. I’m very bad at trusting people. I wouldn’t put myself in charge of a house plant. I’m not… I can’t…” Fuck. She couldn’t possibly tell him what she was really doing here. That would severely betray certain other people, not to mention detonating her career. Hendrick was making this very complicated. Or maybe he was making this very simple. Stella gave up and just buried her face in both hands. Fucking clerics. Being wise at her. Reading her thoughts and fears. Telling her things! She ought to run off and join a party with no clerics. Then she would be the boss of everything and nobody would look at her like Hendrick did. Nobody would take her hand in their weathered ones and… and… cleric her. She lifted her face blearily from her hands so she could point an accusing finger. “A cactus, Hendrick. I managed to kill a cactus once. It didn’t even need watering and I still let it die. I can’t just adopt a whole adventuring party! They need food and water and equipment and a goal and… and… things. They’d just wither up and die in the pot!”

Hendrick listened carefully and politely as Stella tried to talk her way out of a responsibility she had long accepted. She might not have realized it yet, but these souls needed her. Maybe faster than she or even Hendrick could anticipate. Hendrick slowly got up and knelt in front of her, lowering his head. "Thank you, milady. I knew you would be the right person. You do not need to be religious to see right from wrong. Whether you believe in anyone or not, I cannot change. But I believe in you and I suggest you yourself should do that too. In the few days since our meeting you successfully got us out of the trouble in Taer Valaestas, made the right decisions in trying to avoid the Gorgon and standing down in a combat, which would have endangered everyone in our group. And here you are now confronting me about my wrongdoings, which there are many of. If that is not the person to keep these people going, striding in major steps towards the fulfillment of their destinies, then no one will ever be." Hendrick looked up into her eyes with an encouraging soft look. "I see greatness in you. And I see greatness in everyone else, even Varron. You out of all people should know that looks can be deceiving. And once you know of a persons motivations, one often sees the true companion we all want and need. In the end, do not belittle them, for any single one of them can be your saviour at any point in time. As a unit there is little you cannot achieve. However, as individuals you are at the whims of this dire world. Great leaders inspire greatness in others. And they also know when to follow. I don't expect you to rule with an iron fist, but to keep them united. I am sure, you will find a way of guiding these unfortunate souls into success and out of certain death." His eyes began to wander from left to right. He clearly had something on his mind, something very important to him.  "If I may ask one last favour of you." Hendrick swung open the right side of his robe and after a few particular and swift finger movements a hidden pocket was revealed. "Within here, I have something I hold very dear, another thing that brings me great sorrow and I will place something for you in there within the next few sunrises. If something was to happen to me, I would want you to take these possessions and do with them as you please." Hendrick got up and reached out a hand to help Stella up. "If you want to talk, no matter the topic, I am at your service. I can offer council and advice, but I am certain you are more than capable." 

Location: Campsite few hours out of the Star Haunt Date/Time: Night of the 17th of Aryth Who:   Varron , his chest and whoever is at camp whilst Stella and Hendrick are gone. Staying clear of the rest of the, others, I setteled a fair distance away, the light of the campfire barely casting any illumination on my belongings and myself. The long dark shadows welcome me with their cold embrace as I kneel before my chest. Remember, plan, take note and observe. I have to follow every lead, every thought, every word and I have to remember the, finer, details. I look back to the others careful for a moment, they seem occupied with their own things, I grip the key in my pocket and unlock the chest, catching the lock before it falls on the ground.  Where did i leave my journal? was it under the bag or deeper? Did someone meddle with my belongings? I remove the filthy and bloodied bag and place it on the ground with a sicking squishy noise, it's putrid smell assaulting my nose, the stench of rotten flesh spreads from its fibers, the smell both horrid and satisfying . A careful gingerly peek at the contents, one, two, yes good, still four. I close the bag again and leave it on the dirt, I remove the manacles their chain rattling as I i move them from the chest, jutting out from under my alchemical reagents, i see the black leather. Ah good, yes, that's where it were, they didn't after all. After steering around the reagents i manage to get a hold of the book. I look around to the others , careful, careful, are they looking? the liar is gone, good, she's troublesome. I look to the dragonborn and the fool hardy rogue. They seem occupied, their pressence, danger? no, not yet, not for now. I open my book and lean against my chest, the dark makes it hard to make out what i write, but i need not see, to know. "Went to star haunt, met hostile and unkind Shifters there, may be harboring lycanthropes, of little concern, seemed adamant about avoiding bloodshed, good people avoid bloodshed", with my notes taken care of i rifle through it, looking for any, noticeable differences, finding none, i rest easy and start reading lightly through my journal. But the question still burns in my mind, are they wicked or are they not.

“But… but…” Stella could only stammer as Hendrick knelt before her, his head bowed, and thanked her. Thanked her! For what? Being a professional liar, a professional traitor? Had he really failed to realise what she was? Or did he recognise something she couldn’t even see herself? He was wrong about her. Spectacularly wrong. She didn’t want his pack of unruly puppies piddling on her bedroll and chewing on her shoes. She would betray him, she would betray all of them. She would… she would… goddammit. Had she failed a wisdom save? Was that why she was so fucking confused right now? Stella rubbed her temples, where a familiar headache was forming. He was playing on her feelings so expertly she didn’t even want him to stop. Only the distant crackle of the campfire stirred the night silence. This forest darkness felt further from civilisation than ever before, but the risk that wolves could be watching them from the shadows barely even registered. Hendrick was trying to tangle her up with these people. He wanted her to have feelings. Feelings! She had been stabbed before. Shot with arrows. Poisoned. Set on fire. But she hadn’t risked trusting another person in a very long time. Even the thought made her whole chest tighten with panic. They would lure her in and then turn on her. They would do all the things she still had nightmares about. They would crack her heart clean in two. But maybe they really did need her? Maybe she had worked alone too long? Maybe she did want those puppies after all? Even the bitey ones? Fuck. Stella had to clear her throat so her voice wouldn’t squeak. “I’ll take care of your pocket things if anything happens to you. But you’d better not run out of candles on me. I’m nowhere near ready to be the single parent of an adventuring party.” She didn’t hesitate to clasp Hendrick’s strong hand and let him help her up, but once on her feet, she didn’t let go. It felt like their warm grip was the only anchor in this new and terrifying situation. “Hendrick, I need a briefing here. A serious one. I need to know what this party is adventuring for. What the real goal is. Not just atonement. I can’t move the party ten miles closer to atonement. I can’t plan tactics for atonement. What’s the plan?” There was a plan. Right?

Location: Campsite few hours out of the Star Haunt Date/Time: Night of the 17th of Aryth Who: Varron , his chest and whoever is at camp whilst Stella and Hendrick are gone. The reading hadn't helped relieve the one thing I needed, peace of mind, are they working with them ? Couldn't tell, not for now, but I'll learn, I'll know, one way or another. Placing my journal back into the chest alongside whatever had been taken out, the bag , can't forget that one, they'll take them, use them, bring them all back, I can't let them . After double checking that my chest had everything, I close the lid and lock it back up, now for the task at hand .  I stumble over to my bedroll and take out my vial, the ointment does little, but it feels right. I begin to smear it over my burned face, making sure to plaster every nook and cranny with it, relieving at first, but the chill night wind feels sharper and more cold now. I turn away from the others, wouldn't want them to know for sure , and i carefully stick a hand inside my armor, to coat the scar on my chest as well. Albeit harder to do with armor on, can't let my guard down , I take my time to smear the exstensive scar and quickly hide away both the vial and any trace that my armor had been pushed aside a bit. Okay, who's worst , there's Stella , deceptive, joyfull, jokingly kind, she could very well be working for T hem , but she's not here to kill me and that buys me time, though that goes for all of them.  She's the most likely one out of the bunch, awfully deceptive, beware of her , plus she might be the warlock, only her and the other one are unaccounted for . The rogue , charming, fool hardy, I know his kind, money, money is what they care for , could he be paid of? Likely , never know with his kind, always so proud to be in the shadows, but i hunt those in shadows . Both of them very likely to be working for Them , if not both then at least one of them . The cleric , taking into account what i know, he's either with me or with Them , surely he could be talked into working for a more rightous course , Their course . I know not of his faith nor his affiliation with groups of... concern . The Blueman , strange,  unknown, too unknown , his dumbness could be an act, a good one at that , I don't know where to put him, but I won't write him off for now . Lastly Nala , she's peculiar , dangerous? perhaps , a viable candidate to be the warlock , must learn of her intentions and her goals . Does she know of the price? None of this matters in the end , do they or do they not, know of the blood ? If they know, then it's clear, if not, then... maybe, maybe i was, too perceptive . It matters little in the end, I can't trust them. Not yet at least .

... What's the plan? Yes, the plan. They have had a plan. A very good one indeed. Then people started leaving. But they made another plan. Then people started dying. And they had another plan. That one now had failed as well. So yeah for now the plan was to run. Leave this forsaken place. And go somewhere else for now. After all he still had the book. Whilst thinking about the plans Hendrick was slightly confused by Stella still holding his hand. Was she showing signs of her true self. Stuff that is going on underneath the disguised face. He avoided looking her in the eyes, but kept hold of her hand and started walking her slowly towards camp. The light of the stars was even less intense in the outside the clearing. "Well, milady, I wish I could tell you the big plan, the one that leads us to the victory over all that is evil. Things are not that simple. We have had many plans before, but I was not strong enough to see stuff through with an united party. Worry not, I don't think I will be hunt down by assassins or something anytime soon, for there are more major problems that will require attention and resources of the church. But I will not tell you a lie either. I will likely die at the hand of those I believe in." He gave her a long look, realizing the irony. He did enjoy the company of someone he could talk to about matters, he had so long kept secret.  "For now the plan, if one can call it that, has to be to leave these lands and get everyone to some form of safety, even if it is only perceived. There is many foreign lands where we could find some form of shelter, though the flame will not be likely to help us anymore I am afraid. But worry not, I have in my possession a book that could guide us once in safety. There is plenty of information on things the world should not have to bear." It got really dark now between the trees and Hendrick gripped her hand a bit firmer in a careful and protective fashion, trying to ease her into this, before as slowly as possible casting a magical light on one of his shoes to show the way along the uneven path.

Getting to safety was not the kind of plan Stella had been hoping for. Fleeing was fine if you were bringing your wounded to the nearest temple. Or if you had to double back to that one apothecary to pick up the potion that would protect you from the basilisk guarding your target. Or if you had to back off and rethink your tactics, even. But trekking all the way across the continent in the vague hope of finding shelter in a notorious hub of intrigue? It didn’t take a diviner to see that thousands of leagues of uncertainty lay before them. Not to mention that with magical long-distance communication, word of the massacre in Taer Valaestas could arrive far faster than the party could. But maybe everyone was still in a full panic after what had happened in that guard barracks? Maybe they just had to get away. Maybe there were other reasons for going to Sharn. Reasons like this mystery book of Hendrick’s. “I’d like to hear details of this book at some point. So I can prepare.” That was all Stella could say, because it didn’t seem like the moment to mention that under no circumstances did he want her to accompany his party to Sharn. Good gods, the complications that could arise. Like being ordered to murder all of them. Something howled off in the distance, a wolf perhaps, sending prickles down her spine. The wind whispered secrets as it stirred the lonely forest. Occasional glimpses of stars flashed through the dense canopy above them, then dwindled into darkness so intense she had to squint even with her half-elven darkvision. Hendrick broke out his Light cantrip, drenching the world in a colourless radiance. Stella caught herself still holding his warm hand and experienced an uncharacteristic fluster of self-consciousness. This definitely felt a little more intimate than your regular planning session. And unlike Rune, Hendrick could pretty much read her mind with his alarming cleric powers. Stella shifted her hand to his arm, pretending it was so the other party members wouldn’t give them strange looks. Surely there was no way this party of misfits would make it all the way to Sharn. They might not even make it through tonight’s camp without betraying each other. Varron was probably off torturing kittens right now. And for some reason, Stella felt like she ought to do something about their hopeless chances. Stupid clerics. Dammit.

Ten minutes later... The Schemer vs The Hunter The party seemed to have accidentally misplaced their psychopath. How careless of them. Stella should have kept her eyes on him and his blades instead of kidnapping Hendrick for a hard conversation. “Where is our newest and most beautiful butterfly?” She looked around with her hands on her hips. The campfire crackled, waking the gleaming colour in Nala’s scales, casting its glow across Rune where he sat brooding against a log. An empty patch of grass stared back at her where Varron could have put his bedroll if he hadn’t vanished into the ominous darkness. Rune pointed without a word. Stella really owed that man some type of explanation very soon. The only question was whether to make it the truth. “Thanks.” She took a step toward the edge of the fire’s radiance, and stopped. A scent had just drifted past her nose. She sniffed. The smell of rotted flesh. Her whole face screwed up. This was stupid. Stella should flounce off to her bedroll and drown herself in wine for tonight. But Hendrick apparently saw something even in Varron. A spark. Fine. Stella huffed to herself, but strode toward the shadow in the darkness. She began whistling an upbeat tune - and not because of her mood. Just so Varron couldn’t justify mistaking her for an enemy and stabbing her in the liver. He seemed like that type. Her steps slowed only when she began to make out the details. The burned man with half a face. The ominous chest. The stinging odor of something medicinal, the reek of something rotting. She paused, her face blank - would he risk murdering her so close to the campfire? No. A scream from her would have everyone up and reaching for weapons in an instant. Maybe with his hand over her mouth? A slash to the throat, buying time to melt away into the night? Much more likely. Stella stopped a good ten feet from him. Her light armour felt nowhere near protective enough right now. “Mind if I join you?”

Location: Campsite few hours out of the Star Haunt Date/Time: Night of the 17th of Aryth Who: Varron , his chest and Stella . Holy water, check, Oil, check. As I look over my equipment I trace my right hand along the stakes strapped to my chest, check , I take note of everything making sure i have enough for my hunt. I look at the chest and take notice of our two, companions , joining the rest of the pack at the camp. I grab my backpack and check my belongings in there, good , everythings as I left it. What should my next move be? But I've gotten little , planning,  done by the time i'm disturbed, by a low whistlling approaching from the camp. One quick look is all i needed to confirm, yes , Stella , just the one i needed. I remind myself of where the key is, yes,  I'm ready for you Stella , give me your worst.  “Mind if I join you?” Ah so my life is not yet her goal, but is this a sly attempt at assasination? Heh, this'll get her nowhere . I take a quick look around taking note of where everything is again, before turning my gaze back to Stella , "If you're carrying any arms then drop them where you stand, then you're free to, join me , as you say... and keep your hands where i can see them, mouth too ." I turn slightly so only one of my eyes can still barely see her, making sure to keep track on her. " Wouldn't want you to cast any subtle, spells. " I keep one hand on one of my swords, making sure Stella sees as well. " Did your mother never tell you that monsters know when you're afraid?" A small crooked smile can barely be seen on my face for but a moment.

Stella’s eyebrow rose as the master of subtlety checked all his equipment right in front of her. Did he really want to show her where he kept his holy water? One of these mornings he was going to wake up with a smiley face carved in his leather armour where all his little bottles and vials had been strapped. Well, each to their own. “What, all of my weapons?” A slight cold smile tugged her mouth. She unshouldered her shortbow with its quiver, held it out at arm’s length, and dropped it in the grass with a flourish. Then came her sheathed rapier with its belt. “Shield your eyes, before you see some parts of a woman you might not have seen before.” She pulled up her long shirt at the hem and removed the dagger strapped to her upper thigh, just where asshats liked to put their hands. “Do I need to take off my armour as well? How about the rest of my clothes? Who knows what I’m concealing under there?” She stepped away from the pile of weapons, not without some silent resentment. Frankly, she would have preferred to undress. At least that had a form of power. Naturally, her new friend kept his hand on his sword, just to intimidate her. Charming. Well, this was far from the first time Stella had risked being murdered by a big, threatening, armed man. She picked her position and took a seat in the grass, making herself even more defenceless. “I can tell you haven’t met my mother. She’d never tell me that.” Stella would have preferred if Varron hadn’t either. It took a certain type of man to get excited by her fear. “If you’re quite finished, it’s past time for a heart-to-heart.” Stella waited, but he still didn’t take his hand off his sword. Fantastic. He really was enjoying scaring her. “This is not tactically efficient. You’re positioned close enough to the party to be murdered by us in the night, yet not far away to avoid the monsters our campfire might lure. Since you obviously don’t trust me to approach you without disarming, there’s no point travelling with the party even for a short time. We’re just adding to the number of potential enemies to keep track of. So why are you here?”

Location: Campsite few hours out of the Star Haunt Date/Time: Night of the 17th of Aryth Who: Varron , his chest and Stella . “Shield your eyes, before you see some parts of a woman you might not have seen before.”  ~ The words served as a remind, a grim one. I close my eyes for but a moment, but not before the cold look in them shattered. I also make a slight frown before relaxing myself again, the emptiness back in my eyes. Awfully charismatic isn't she? no reason to put on such a big show, It's not hard to tell she's, afraid.   "We’re just adding to the number of potential enemies to keep track of..." ~  I raise my brow at her, "why wouldn't I be here?" It's sweet the thought that I would throw myself into danger like that, but no, i'm careful . "It's simple, one shouldn't jump to conclusions , nor treat everyone the same , I'm cautious, all of you have given me, reasons , to be here. I might suspect things of you all, but i'm not tainted enough to act on suspicion." I stand up and remove my weapons before laying them on the ground 5ft away from me. "If you're worrying about my safety , then don't, I'm not scared  of the monsters. Unlike you it seems." Is that truly all I am to them? A monster? A deranged hunter?  I frown and give Stella  a stern  look, " Is that why're you're afraid? you think me violent? mad? Quite the assumptions you're making,  Stella ."   I turn and look into the darkness, still keeping her in the edge of my vision. My frown relaxes and a  low sigh can be heard. "I stay here in the dark, because I belong here, and as you've figured to steer clear of you all. I don't know you, so I can't trust you." I turn back and look Stella  over once. "I thought maybe you'd figure that much, since it seems we have that in common, the trust issues I mean." I give her a very small smile for a fraction of a second, before following it up. "They say people think twice as much as they talk." I look at her with an empty cold stare " and you talk a lot. " I relax my shoulders and I nod to Stella making sure she's paying attention as i get up. I sigh as i motion over to my chest a tired look washes over my face. "You noticed the smell  didn't you? I don't mind telling you why i'm here, but it's all the same to just show you." I take of my gloves (Varron's right hand middle finger has been cut of and the wound burned shut, a long time ago) and slowly grab the key for the chest . " If I was a monster this is where it would end isn't it? " I mumble audible enough for her to hear. "Care to prove your theory?"

Her hands, flat on her knees, tightened as he stood, rising to his full height of over six feet. Stella would barely come up to his chest even while standing, so this seated position now felt ridiculously vulnerable. The rest of the party around the glowing campfire were nowhere near enough protection. He was just going to stab her clear through her light armour and walk off laughing. He reached for his weapons. Her stomach plummeted and Stella almost reacted right there. Almost forced him to make a wisdom save to avoid pissing himself in terror for the next hour. She bit down hard on her tongue. Do not draw a weapon on me. Do not -- But the weapons came off, and she could breathe again. Slow breaths. Steadying breaths. Her fingertips drummed on her knee as he moved his weapons five feet away, nowhere near far enough for her taste. That had been a very close call. Scared of monsters? Oh, he was enjoying himself, wasn’t he. Making sure she knew how amusing her fear was, how fragile her life was in his hands. “Don’t take it personally. I’m scared of everything.” That might have come out a little bitter. She almost rubbed her temples to stave off another headache when Varron informed her he belonged in the darkness. He really had to be spectacular in combat to have survived this long while being so obvious. But Hendrick had asked her to give this man a chance, and Stella had to admit, she was morbidly curious as to what was so special about him. And the chest. Mainly the chest. Maybe it was a chest full of adorable puppies? And the smell was just a coincidence. That would make Stella very happy. But it really smelled like something decomposing, so either it was a very small corpse or they were talking body parts. Ten copper pieces said it was a dead baby. Stella steepled her fingers, her elbows on her knees. “Go ahead. Traumatise me.”

Location: Campsite few hours out of the Star Haunt Date/Time: Night of the 17th of Aryth Who: Varron , his chest and Stella . I push back the lid, a waft of purtrid smells assaults us for a moment, before it settles. I move around some of the stuff grabbing a torch, my bloodied bag and grabbing hold of my backpack to get my tinderbox. "You did want to see it right? My collection that is." I give her a crooked smile as i get up and walk over to her, sitting down in front of her, placing the torch in the ground in between us. "It's more natural for people to trust in one another, but i doubt just about everything there is to doubt about you. I doubt your name and face , I doubt you're even a half-elf . But more so than that, I doubt you've any reason to be, afraid. I doubt you're my enemy, for now atleast. "  I begin to fiddle with the tinderbox. " I hunt the wicked and vile , I doubt you're among them ." A spark flies true and ignites the torch allowing Stella  to see clearly the bag riddled with dried up blood and a strong rotting stench emanating from it. I place it on the ground before her, "did you ever consider, there's reasons for the things I do? For the way i act? Or did you just think it to be the work of a deranged mad man?" I lif my hands from the bag and lossen up my armor, removing the vest and taking of my shirt. " I didn't choose to become a monster, that choice was taken for me. " Under the shirt a horrid and crooked scar is revealed, it spans from the top of my chest down along the right side of my rib cage and then out to the side. It doesn't take a medical genius to see that the cut was intentional, and that the skin and flesh had at one point been peeled back allowing access to my chest, before being crudely stitched back together. I put my shirt and vest back on and look into Stella's  eyes with my empty hollow eyes. "So what makes you so cautious? what happened to you?" I give her a small frown "if you can't even trust a perceived maniac with a secret or two, then what hope do you have? I mean out of everyone here, I'm the least likely to interfere with your work. After all I got my own things to take care of." I cross my arms and look from her to the bag and then back to her. "You wanted to be traumatised ? Then tell me why you're here? Seems you like that question. And don't act coy with me, we both know there's more to both of us than meets the eye. You needn't tell me any names, just why you're here and what your mission is and it better be the truth." I give her a crooked smile and my eyes seem less cold and empty in the torchlight "If you can't trust yourself to let me know, how should i trust myself, to tell you the truth ?" The stench of the bag has engulfed us by now, leaving a strong smell of rotting flesh around us.

Stella really should have prepared a panic signal. His collection? What collection? It had to be dead babies. Plural. Or body parts. Was he flaying his victims and stitching them into skin suits? Was he assembling some kind of golem? Was it just a travelling shop for customers with extremely unusual tastes? Her skin crawled as the stench grew stronger, but she kept her face blank and her reaction bottled up tight. “I really hope there are puppies in there. Alive.” The end of the torch stabbed into the soft earth. Stella tapped her finger against her lips, keeping back words, as their resident psychopath lit it. This was just her night for intense conversations around single flames. This time with a squelching bag of who knew what between them. She could only pray it wasn’t leaking fluids right now. She couldn’t face that before wine. That slight cold smile tugged at her mouth again as he questioned whether her name, her face, even her race were really true, but she let that pass without comment. “Oh, I’m sure you have your reasons.” Even the worst monsters had an impressive capacity for self-righteousness. She was wearing a short dress. He owed me money. The baby wouldn’t stop crying… Maybe it really was a bag of babies? Fuck’s sake. Hendrick owed her a drink. Stella put her chin in her hand and watched with eyebrows raised as Varron began to strip off. First his armour, then he started on his shirt. “Not quite the striptease I’d normally go for, but…” The hem of his shirt dragged up. Stella gave a low whistle, and not because of the now revealed muscles of his chest and shoulders. That was quite a scar. Open surgery? Trying to cut his lung out? Or maybe implanting something? Like a parasite that would burst out and rip her face off? The look he gave her as he dressed again sent a chill through her. Those empty, dead eyes. Like he was thinking about making abstract artwork from her mangled body. And that last intimidation tactic pushed Stella to the edge of her patience. “My secret? My secret is that I’m here to get paid. Nothing more, nothing less. It has nothing to do with you and your presence is irrelevant to my job. I’m simply trying to figure out what you want from us. Khorvaire is a vast continent. There’s plenty of room to be an edgy loner all by yourself. I assume you have a story to tell me or you wouldn’t be making such a show of the bag and the scar, but I’m not going to ask you a thousand times. So let’s get this party started.” Stella reached into her collar, very slowly, to avoid startling him, and pulled out the single gold piece she kept hidden inside her shirt. “Here’s my symbolic gold piece. If you impress me with your story, you get the gold piece and the bragging rights. If not, I’m off to drink my wine and regret my life choices.”

Location: Campsite few hours out of the Star Haunt Date/Time: Night of the 17th of Aryth Who: Varron , his chest and Stella . I let my dissapointment show on my face, is that really all there is to it? No couldn't be, my gut tells me otherwise. "I thought you wanted to learn something, how disappointing." I grab my pouch of gold and toss it over besides Stella , "here, if you money is what you want, take it , and seeing as you dislike my company , you should feel free to leave me here and drink your troubles away." Giving her a stern look I continue, "but if the thing you wanted was peace of mind, to know whether or not I am truly a threat, then you must answer me truthfully with a proper secret ."  I narrow my eyes at her as i cross my arms, "so you're here to get paid? what is the reasons you took the job, the reason for you being here, on what seems like a fool's errand?" Leaning closer I almost whisper to her, " what is the thing that pushes you forward?"  Relaxing myself and trying to seem friendly, but it only amounts to a crooked smile and a cautious gaze. "Truths for truths, you wish to know why I'm here and I want the same from you. Only then will I truly know whether i can trust you not to work for... them ." Rage and hatred flare through my eyes and face as I'm gripped by anger, but I let it stir and then subside, sighing as the last breath of anger leaves me. I look back at Stella , "distrust only get's one so far, it is always harder to trust someone you're afraid of." sigh  "So why are you afraid of me? or the more fitting question, why do you believe you would be, marked , by my hunt ?" The tired look returns to my eyes, but gaze is unchanging, still locked on her. "Is it sins you've committed? Is it really just my demeanor?" I look away for but a moment and mumble, "thought you smarter than that.", barely audible enough for her to hear. "I mainly hunt necromancers and warlocks , their dark magic bringing twisted and wicked evils to this land." I say clearly, looking back at her, "I'm suspicious of others, yes, but you don't strike me as either, nor as someone who'd willingly do great evils. or am I wrong?" I give one last stern look before relenting, "I tire of intimidating you, you want truths? then tell what i wish to know, why  are you here?" A small smile creeps across my lips and i chuckle softly, "put a little more, heart , into your perfomance. " "But before you do," I look down at the bloodied and putrid bag between us. "I'll ease your mind a little, It's not puppies  as you wanted. It's tongues ." I look into her eyes again, a suspicious but tired and empty look paints my eyes. " Four tongues , to be exact. I think you can figure, why I keep them. Or rather perhaps you can."

Gods help her. Stella was going to need to bathe in a pool of wine after this conversation. She might even need a few chocolates. Maybe she should play with the pseudodragon? Feed it some sugar cubes? That would make them both happy. She picked up the pouch and weighed it in her palm. It felt decently heavy. Forty gold pieces, maybe more. A strong argument to just leave. Varron could continue being aggressively hostile by himself in the darkness with his chest full of rotting flesh while Stella had a nice glass of wine and dreamed of the frivolous things she could do with his coin. Dinner at an expensive restaurant in the next city? A fine new dress? Enough puppy time to forget all about this evening? Mmm. That would be perfect. Hendrick wouldn’t complain. He’d probably thank her for trying. She could always lie. Some people painted masterpieces; her medium of genius was lies. Surely she could tell a story so vivid, so convincing, it would unlock all Varron’s secrets. She could make yet another attempt to coax out whatever he was dying to tell someone. Slip past his armour of questions and stab wherever it took to get a different response. She could tell the truth while silently loathing him with every word. She could wait for him to throw her best efforts back in her face so she’d have an excuse to leave. With his coin. She’d earned that. But none of that seemed like a sincere effort to do what Hendrick had asked of her. And for some inexplicable reason, it felt like that mattered. Goddammit. She must have failed a wisdom save after all. What spell did clerics even have for this? Create Empathy? Summon Feelings? Maybe this burned man did have a story that somehow justified carrying a bag of tongues around. Maybe his scars came from something so dreadful, it had seared all social awareness right out of him. Maybe he wanted company, but he was just too broken to function. That could be why he was here. Maybe he was sort of like her? Well, here went her inevitable humiliation. Stella steepled her fingers in front of her face again, drawing strength from the memory of her father at his desk. He used to do this all the time. It had taken her many years to realise he was trying to hide his smile at all her ridiculous antics. She needed every warm memory she could find to steady herself against the shuddering, crawling feeling of being forced to share this secret. It felt like having her clothes ripped off. Like being bare among enemies with nowhere to hide. “I don’t tell you this because you frightened me,” Stella began in her steadiest voice. “I don’t tell you this because I need you. I don’t even tell you this because your current attitude is a liability, although that part is true. I tell you because somebody far more forgiving than me thinks you might be special, and if I understand what he sees in you, I might know what he sees in me. So I’m going to tell you a story about a little girl.” Stop. This was insanity. She couldn’t tell even such an innocent story. It would be lethally stupid to hint at who she really was. The consequences could be severe, and not just for her. Pause. Breathe. Stella went on. “This little girl is very lucky. She is born to parents who love to spoil her because she is the delight of their hearts. She has three older sisters who are all adorable. They’re clever, and they’re sneaky, and they’re ruthless. They’re going to rule the world some day. And they teach their baby sister all the tricks they know. At first it’s the cute things, like how to steal a copper piece from a grownup’s pocket and pretend to find it behind their ear. Then it’s where to press your ear against the wooden panels to hear the secrets that are whispered in the next room. Then it’s how to hide a little dagger in your boot so nobody can find it and take it off you. The baby sister is very impressed by everything they know. She learns all of this and more. “As they grow up, the three older sisters become beautiful princesses. They can make a man trip over just by winking at him. They can sell imaginary bridges in foreign countries. And all of their skills are very helpful to their family’s… interests. The three princesses become… famous, in their own way. But their baby sister does not become famous. She is the shy one and they keep her in the shadows. Few people know her name, even fewer her face. And since she is the girl nobody knows, she can be sent on secret tasks. Into the wilderness, into foreign cities. And each time she comes home, they love her and spoil her because she is still the delight of their hearts.” Her eyes had started to sting. She had to clear her throat. She must have been away from home far too long, because right now the sheer distance between them twisted her heart so tight she could barely breathe. She needed to go home soon. She needed to make them happy so they could keep her whole. Stella spoke very slowly, so she could put full force on what she said next. “That girl would do anything… anything … for her family. She would break any law, betray any oath. If anyone ever harmed her family, she would burn the fields and salt the ashes. She would punish the next generation. She would… she would…” Her throat tightened and she had to take more deep breaths. “She would do many things. That’s all.”  That was more than enough for a secret. Stella dropped her hands with a little smile that held no humour. “And now you owe that girl a story.”

Location: Campsite few hours out of the Star Haunt Date/Time : Night of the 17th of Aryth Who:Varron , his chest and Stella. Maybe I was wrong to suspect her. A single tear ran down along Varron’s cheek, his eyes wide and his face shifting, unclear whether to be saddened or angry. Stella's words had touched him and he saw wrongness in his behavior towards the group. But his mind was resolute, for her story had pulled on more than just heartstrings, but also his memories of his parents, of their capture and of the torture they all suffered. One, two and many more tears began to join the first, but just as quickly as Varron began to fall, he rose up. His tears blocked as wave of fury washes over his face, clearing it from any traces of despair. Once through he wipes his face of the tears, his eyes lock with Stella's, he did have a story to tell and she inspired him. His mouth trembles for a moment, his face softening up again and a very apologetic look stems from his eyes "I...I-I was wrong, you're innocent, you... you." His voice faltering and visibly struggling with himself, not to say the words, but to face up to whatever is fighting him in his mind. "I do... I have a story, it's not pretty and I'll leave out the details ." As he begins to recall, another wave of fury courses through his face, leaving him more stable . His voice cleared of it's sorrow, now filled once again with vengeance, though albeit much less prevalent now. "This is the truth you've earned, Stella." He looks into Stella's eyes but it's as if he's looking deeper than that, further inside. "Truths are hard to tell, I would know... Every scar you see, each one, everything is from the same... event , in my life, the thing that cursed my soul." Varron's gaze falls to the ground as he begins to mumble. "There once was a young man, a foolish, dumb, ignorant and unprepared young man. There also were his parents, his mother, strong, vigilant and proud, and his father, respectful, disciplined and intelligent, but most of all, the thing they had in common, their compassion and love. They were travelling to meet the young man's betrothed. Though the young man had never met her, he was delighted to meet her none the less. On their way there, they came across a bridge and as they were crossing that bridge..." Varron spits on the ground and he briefly clenches his hand into a fist, the strain visible in his skin. "Demons attacked, foul creatures, damned and vile things, they grabbed, the mother, the father and the young man and took them to their lair, to their masters." Varron straightens his back and faces Stella again, his eyes have adorned an empty cold look, even though he's looking, it's as if he can't see her. "First they stripped the father of his mind and then enslaved him with their vile magic. They locked up the mother far away, but close enough so the young man could hear her screams of despair and agony, she was reduced to a plaything for the demons, to keep them docile. The young man was then strapped to a table and his father ordered to cut him open. He did. And as the young man screamed and tore his hands to shreds upon the restraints, desperate to free himself, he sought help, from the gods. None came, instead the ordeal was prolonged, he was healed kept on the brink, as to not allow him to collapse, die or faint during his surgery . A man appeared in the doorway clad in shadows. The man reached into the young man’s open chest and touched his heart... Infusing it with dark magic, energy now pumped through his veins, and all he could feel was pain in every pore, in every vein and even his mind. Then nothing, as he finally felt relief." "He awoke again on the third day, he knew this because, he heard a female voice telling him, how much time had passed and how much his mother had screamed. This was one the masters, the master spoke and commanded the mother be brought here. When she arrived beaten, sullied and filthy, the master ordered her to be tormented in front of the young man by the very demons that caught them. The master also cast a spell on the young man, forcing him to, look. The master allowed the demons to feast on only a little of her, one arm, the demons chose the left arm. The mother's screams tore deep into the young man, yet he was still forced to witness, to burn it into his mind. The mother passed away before the end, like her son, but then he learned that there was no escape, not even in death, for she was revived through their vile magic and brought back to her cell." Varron's face lit only by the torch, turned grim and pale, his voice trembling with mix of anger and anguish. "This continued for the next seven days, the young man was whipped, beaten, cut, tortured by his father and when he was healing, from the great pain. They brought his mother to feel the pain for him, limb, by limb. On the tenth day, the mother had no more limbs on which the demons could feast, therefore they opted to rip her apart instead and feast on what was left on her, bearing witness to this the young broke. The master waited for two days for the young man to recover, but he didn't, so on the end of the twelfth day, She ordered that the father should burn his son, for he was no longer of use. The father, broken, enslaved, cold and unfeeling grabbed his son and began burn him, slowly, drawing out the pain as much as possible. The intent was to frighten him by burning his face and then the rest of him, but it never happened. The thing that the master and the shadowy man had wanted all along happened and with it everything became red. When the young man regained his senses, he was gone, out of his bindings, free and under the wast sky. Yet he knew, he had killed his father, he had escaped, he knew it all to be true. Then he broke more than he thought possible and then he went on, as broken as he was." Varron’s stare is unbroken, his gaze empty and dark, he’s stuck in thought or memory, still seeing through, that young man’s eyes.

Stella had not been expecting him to cry. Not even in the listening darkness outside the glow of the campfire with nobody to know but her. And although her story had been rather too true for her own comfort, she wasn’t convinced it was tear-worthy. Unless he missed his own family more than words could possibly express. Unless he had been walling up the grief for so long that it was starting to force its way out through the gaps between the bricks. Grief like that would need to be let out from time to time, before it burst through the walls and drowned everyone in its path. So Stella settled in for a spell of serious listening. By the time Varron finished talking, the silence between them lay so deep, so heavy, it weighed a million tons. That wolf from earlier had stopped howling. Even the campfire had smouldered down into embers. Only the vast golden arc of the Ring of Siberys looked down on them from the night. Stella took her finger off her lips where it had been pressed for the last ten minutes, drew breath to speak, then stopped. That story had been far worse than she’d expected. So much worse that she didn’t even know where to start. Nothing she could say could possibly lessen the cruelty of what had been done to that young man who had been so excited to meet his betrothed for the first time. To his parents, who had only wanted the best for him. “I’m… sorry.” That was all she could come up with. It felt so inadequate - he probably didn’t even want her sympathy. But it was the truth. A hundred questions begged to be asked, but Stella didn’t bother with those. She already knew the answers. No, he didn’t talk to anybody else about this. No, he didn’t have friends. Or surviving relatives. Or a home. Or anything warm in his life. All of the anchor lines had snapped in the storm and this ship was heading for the rocks. But there was one blindingly obvious problem with his story, and that was that even the most chaotic stupid of demons did not construct such elaborately sadistic, resource-intensive torture schemes for no reason. This kind of effort had to be aimed at a specific end. And her spine crawled with the realisation that she was probably looking at that end right now. “This… surgery they did on you. The magic they put in you.” Stella made her voice gentle, since she had been harsh enough for one night. “Is it… part of you now? Or is it separate? Does it think for itself? Act for itself?” Was he possessed? Would he even know if he was? It seemed quite plausible Varron was infected with some kind of demon… thing. Could it even be contagious?

In the Cart, While Waiting for Rune, Who Unknown to Us Has Been Tragically Ambushed and is Probably Being Interrogated “Let’s start with this sugar cube.” Sitting cross-legged on the front seat of the cart, her shirt sleeves rolled up and her collar casually open at the throat, Stella Starling held out the white cube on her palm. Above her an autumn sky clear and pale as glass reflected back the stillness of this lonely spot on a lonely road in a lonely world. Rune had been gone half an hour already; if he didn’t make it back soon, she would have to investigate. But for now, Puff the pseudodragon familiar perched on the traces of their draft horse’s harness right in front of her. His scales gleamed a brilliant red, turning him into a rare jewel amid the colours of autumn. He stretched out his neck to delicately take the sugar cube from her, but Stella vanished it with a quick wave of her hand. He pulled back, his wings half lifting in offence before settling against his scaled sides. “I put the cube under one of the cups. Watch.” She set three tiny copper cups on the rail, all face down, then swapped them so fast Puff had to swing his head back and forth trying to keep track. Stella held up her empty hands with a flourish. “Now where’s the sugar cube?” Puff sniffed each cup in turn, doubtfully, then pawed at the middle one. Stella lifted it up. No cube. She feigned a gasp. “Puff! You picked the wrong one.” She lifted the other two cups as well. Still no cube. “What happened? Where did it go?” Puff huffed out a breath. A tiny wisp of smoke trickled from his flared nostrils. Stella could’ve sworn his scaly brow furrowed in a frown. She leaned her folded arms on the rail so she could talk to him nose to nose. “That’s a classic short con called Find the Lady. Finding ladies being a minor talent of mine.” She tipped him a wink. Puff blinked back at her, not interested in ladies. Lady pseudodragons, maybe. “The sugar cube is never under any of the cups. I palm it as soon as you start to play. So no matter how closely you watch my hands, you’ll never find it.” Those golden eyes narrowed. The vertical pupils contracted into even tighter slits. Stella lifted her hands hastily. “Just a little game. You can have the sugar cube.” She offered it to him, and the little pseudodragon coiled his tail around her fingers to keep the cube steady for him to eat. Aww. Stella might have melted a little inside. A genuine smile crept out. The party might have been implicated in the massacre of over a hundred innocent people in Taer Valaestas, it might have taken every ounce of her resourcefulness to get them out and keep them secret, and it would certainly take some genius scheming to get them stowed on a ship at Pylas Maradal… but for right now, at least Stella got to spend time with a rather charming dragonborn warlock. And her adorable familiar. It was an entertaining distraction from that spine-crawling near miss with those doppelgangers. Normally Stella liked to keep her romantic partners firmly under the thumb. She bet she could reduce Rune to stammering in thirty seconds flat if she ever went there. And that angle worked pretty well on the type of people she usually went for. But this dragonborn girl was no stammerer. She stood taller and stronger than Stella. Her magic must be ten times as powerful, and certainly a whole lot creepier. And she was probably far more intelligent and reserved than Stella even realised right now. Which posed a fascinating challenge, for girls who liked to be challenged. And Stella definitely did. Stella slowly stretched, working the stiffness of a long day’s travel out of her muscles, even wiggling her toes in her sturdy boots. Then she leaned over to her dragonborn girl with a sly little smile. “Want to see another magic trick?” Stella blinked up at her innocently.

Location: On the road to Pylas Maradal Date/Time : 21st of Aryth Who: Stella, Puff, and Nala Nala had been sitting in the cart, not reading or writing, but thinking. She thought about Rune and how he had offered her to help find her parents. It was something no one else had ever done, with the sole exception on one Black Dragonborn, who Nala thought may have done it because of his guilt complex rather than genuine concern. Nala thought a lot about Rune , and decided that she probably owed him more than she wanted to owe anyone at this point. Stella too, for that matter. Her eyes flashed to Stella just as she saw her shuffling cups around, looking at Puff . Puff's eyes found Nala's , and he flashed her an image of the sugar cube, hidden safely in Stella's palm. Nala smiled at him over Stella's shoulder. "Play along, Erdarssi. She will give it to you eventually." Nala watched as Puff then half-heartedly chose a cup, and Stella explained that it was a short con. Nala supressed a chuckle and watched as Stella and Puff shared a small moment. Nala had always trusted Puff's judgment of people. Generally, he was right about who was worth trusting and who wasn't. She thought of Jeezargo , and how Puff had always tried to protect her when he was near, even when she told him to calm down. Puff knew before any of us that Jeezargo would turn. She thought now of how Puff seemed to really enjoy both Stella and Rune , but especially Stella . It was at about that moment that the beautiful half-elf turned to face her, stretching casually and with a small, mischievous grin creeping across her face. "Want to see another magic trick?" She asked. Her grin gave way to the picture of innocence. Nala smiled at her. Quite the performer. "Depends. Will you be stealing more items from my pockets?"  Nala gave Stella a wink and quirked an eyebrow, ready to be impressed.

Location: Campsite few hours out of the Star Haunt Date/Time: Afternoon of the 21st of Aryth Who: Blue , Hendrick, the Party minus Rune A lot had transpired these last few days. Since the incident in the barracks in Taer Valeastas nothing had gone as planned. Not even remotely. The only somewhat positive thing was that most people who sat out where still alive. Hendrick found himself a little bit of to one side, sitting on some large rock. Rune was gone trying to investigate the surrounding areas, likely sweet-talking people into sharing their memories by now. Varron was sitting a bit off to one side, but closer than a few days ago. Stella must have managed to connect with him somehow. He seemed less outright vindictive now. Maybe a bit mellow even. He will probably come around. Hendrick was gonna give him a few more days before having a longer chat with him. Nala was being lured into Stella's fangs rather expertly. From what their lips seemed to say at least. He shook himself out of it quickly. He wasn't going to do that after all. Trust is what is needed. A few yards away Blue was looking at a small piece of wood. Hendrick remembered it must have been the one Fearfacer made for him to celebrate their battle prowess and friendship, a quite "unique" gift. "Hey Blue!" He briefly paused. "Actually, I hope you are fine with that name I've given you. I probably should have made sure about that, come to think of it. How are you finding our journey so far?" Hendrick pointedly looked and nodded at the wooden stone. "Do you miss him?"

Location: Maev Sangrey's Hideout Date/Time: 21st of Aryth, Afternoon Who: Rune, Avi, Wolf, assorted others "Six damn you! I fucking quit, no one can solve this thing. Piece of shit garbage." Avi tossed the confounding puzzle sphere to the ground, which to his dismay refused to shatter. The Khoravar was thoroughly disappointed with their hostage's belongings; apart from the damn toy, all he could find was a smattering of coins, some ragged equipment and two strange vials which seemed vaguely nauseating. He had hoped enemies of their reputation would have had something more valuable to offer. He turned to his Goliath companion, whose gaze   had been fixated on the prisoner ever since he woke up.  Avi knew Wolf took his work very seriously, but found his cold, iron glare unnerving all the same. He whistled and called out to his friend. "Why aren't you more upset about this? We need better shit for the times ahead. You think we're getting out of this with gear I can do this to?" Taking hold of Rune's shortsword,  Avi took a vicious swing at their armored dummy, and an ugly crack reverberated through the chamber. "You see what I'm talking about? I'm not getting stuck with this garbage when we head for the coast."  Wolf grunted and looked over. The blade had nearly snapped in two- it was a miracle it had made it this far. He turned to size up the man they were guarding. [ Rune's shortsword is destroyed. Remove from your inventory.] [ Insight on Rune] He   certainly didn't fit the profile for the marks they were expecting: he had gone down with little effort, had come entirely alone and was hardly armed for the mission he was supposed to be serving on. And yet.... this shrimp had been in possession of the locket Maev had so strongly reacted to. If he wasn't their target, then who was he? Why had he stumbled across their ambush at almost exactly the wrong time if he had nothing to do with the caravan? Too many things didn't add up here. Maev hadn't asked him to question the prisoner, but she didn't forbid from doing so either. Ignoring Avi, Wolf stood and grabbed a mug of ale and some food from the fire. Approaching  Rune,  Wolf held up the mug to the bound prisoner's lips so he could drink his fill. He did the same with the meal, helping the man eat as much as he wanted. The entire time,  Wolf looked deep in Rune's eyes, hardly blinking. When the hostage finished, Wolf crouched down in front of him, bringing his whole 8 foot frame to bear on the small man. "Aren't you a little short for a Blademark ?"

Location: Maev Sangrey's Hideout Date/Time: 21st of Aryth, Afternoon Who: Rune, Avi, Wolf, assorted others Rune carefully studied the situation he found himself in. Several arms guards. Being intently watched. Stripped of all his equipment. This is certainly one of the worse situations I’ve been in.  Worse he was to mentally drained to teleport free of his bonds. Not that he’d likely get very far in his condition. Those archers had pinned him down before he ever had a chance to fight or flee.  Testing his bonds ones carefully so as not to arouse suspicion. He studied his guards. He recognized the only watching him as a Goliath, reminding him of a almost quieter and more imposing Fearfacer, and the other a half elf. A hot headed one at that. Cringing at the the misuse of his puzzle sphere, Rune made a mental note to give him a slow death. Atleast he didn’t manage to unlock it. Ugh and there goes my only valid melee weapon. He thinks as his short sword is destroyed, wasted on a dummy. Rune makes a careful point of returning the goliaths gaze for exactly 13 seconds before switching to look at something else. He also tries to memorize as much as he can, taking careful not that they plan to go to the coast as well as they need some serious equipment. Caught completely off guard as the Goliath offers him good and drink, Rune drinks lightly from the mug of ale, but happily enjoys the meal. Satisfied he thanks the Goliath and considers his question. Taking in the immensity of this Goliath. Alright maybe trying to fight my way out isn’t a keen option here. “Well given I have no idea what a blade mark is, I’ll have to take your word for it. I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. My names Rune. I’d offer you a hand to shake but uh...”  Rune wiggles a little in his bindings “I’m a little tied up at the moment.” Rune waits a moment for him to answer then continues. “So if I may be so bold, what’s a blade mark? And why the interest? If your just trying to find a specific person from them, I’m more then capable of telling you where they are if you have enough information. Just a description and name will do. Also, why the ambush? You don’t seem so desperate as to rob a lone man, unlikely to carry and real valuables.” Rune waits and watches, keeping his eyes on the Goliath but careful to also watch the others using his peripheral vision. He wears a calm but curious smile, hopeful in learning more about his captors. I wonder what everyone else is doing. Hopefully they don’t wait to long.

21st of Aryth, While Rune is Probably Being Tortured, Whoops Had Nala just winked at her? Oh, this game was on. Stella couldn’t remember ever flirting with a dragonborn before, but then none of them had ever smiled at her so much. Ever flashed her those vivid emerald eyes while gleaming a metallic bronze in the afternoon light. Stella was already a magpie for shiny jewels and women - she should’ve known shiny jewel women would tick all her boxes. “I’ll have you know, I’m no common pickpocket, stealing honest people’s copper. I also reverse -pickpocket. Useful for planting incriminating evidence on my marks. And I entertain my baby cousins for hours with stage magic.” Stella held up her hand with a flourish. “Your palm right here, please. I promise not to empty your coin purse while you’re distracted.” For some reason she’d always thought of dragonborn as reptilian. Cold-blooded. So it surprised her all over again when Nala’s warm palm pressed against hers and she remembered dragonborn were physically hotter than half-elves, almost feverishly so. “Uh…” Stella cleared her throat. She’d almost forgotten what she was doing here. “Observe. One ribbon.” She pretended to draw it from between their fingers, a long coiling length of scarlet red. The ribbon wound its way around their wrists, then began to weave between their fingers, almost of its own accord. Binding them together loop by loop. A minute later Stella wiggled their fingers, showing the two of them were secured together with the ribbon. “Now you’re kidnapped and you can’t escape.” Stella couldn’t keep in the smile that warmed her whole face, because the truth was Nala could just snap the ribbon at any time. This trick was purely for fun. “You’re stuck with me. But here’s a little reward.” She tugged on one specific loop of ribbon and their hands parted, still bound at the wrist, and a perfect ribbon rose formed within their cupped palms. It glowed scarlet in the pale light - a rather nice job, if Stella did say so herself. “Also, your pockets are now full of daisies. So there’s that.” Stella managed a deadpan expression for about two seconds before she started giggling.

Location: On the road to Pylas Maradal Date/Time : 21st of Aryth Who: Stella, Puff, and Nala Nala grinned throughout the whole of Stella's trick, her smile only faltering once, as Stella's hand found hers. Nala's eyes focused on  Stella , and a strange feeling burned through her. Something that she hadn't felt in a long time. Something the reminded her of a familiar face. Nala's breath caught slightly, but she quickly replaced the pensive look with another smile and laughed as Stella continued the game. “Also, your pockets are now full of daisies. So there’s that.” Nala couldn't help it; she accidentally broke the ribbon as Stella giggled, moving her hands to her pockets, and bringing out handfuls of daisies. She looked from the flowers to Stella , and giggled along with her. "And what kind of crime is this incriminating evidence pointing towards, hm?" Nala said with a grin that reached her eyes, forgetting momentarily all of the pain that generally followed her around. She took the flowers and began deftly linking the stems with delicate knots, and after a few moments, she had created a crown of flowers, which she put atop Stella's head. "I used to make these when I was a girl. I didn't have much else to do a lot of the time." A sad smile passed over her features, but it faded quickly back to the present joys. Nala's eyes found Stella's , waiting for something to happen.

Oh, yes. Stella was smooth. The smoothest! That big grin from Nala made her very pleased with herself. She might not be up to holding off those ridiculous cleric insight checks, but she knew how to make girls laugh. “My ribbon!” Stella pretended to gasp in outrage. She tugged on both ends of the scarlet ribbon, unravelling the whole rose in a flash and revealing that Nala had snapped the ribbon clean in two. “That rose trick never failed to get a smile ever since I first learned it to impress a cute girl when we were nine years old. How can I flirt with girls now? I might never get to sneakily hold anyone’s hand again.” Stella put her chin on her fist as if deep in thought, furrowing her brow in puzzlement, then held up one finger. “Wait a moment. Do you know the mending cantrip? I bet you do. Let’s find out.” She dangled the ribbon in the air, the cut ends fluttering in the autumn breeze, passed her hand over it a few times, then with a flourish revealed it whole and uncut again. “Mended! You’re the best at cantrips. Must be because you’re so smart.” That set Stella off giggling all over again. This was way more fun than getting critically sneak-attacked by doppelgangers. Awww. Nala was making her a crown of daisies. Rather skilfully, in fact. Stella hadn’t realised dragonborn had the dexterity for such a delicate task - she’d pictured those metallic scales as armour, stiff and unyielding. But Nala chained daisies together with the clever touch of a violinist. Stella dipped her head for the crown, even though Nala was way taller than her and could easily reach. “You should be careful, dragon girl. Where I come from, if you crown a girl with flowers, well, that’s a promise.” Stella managed to stay deadpan for at least thirty seconds this time. That last little confession from Nala raised Stella's eyebrows. “You were sad? When you made daisy chains?”

Night, 21st Aryth, Bandit Cave What a fucking disaster. Stella Starling stared hard at her cup of wine, thinking about drowning herself in it. Just starting drinking and not stopping until she forgot all about today. The ambush they had walked into. The standoff. The bargain they had struck with Maev Sangrey. The attack on the Blademarks, the wights in the wagons, the high-level psionic surprise with his legendary actions. She could still feel the heat of the distant fireballs blooming, the thump underfoot as bodies hit the ground, the shattering impact of taking so much psychic damage in one blow. The dark surface of the wine trembled. Her hands must still be shaking slightly. Maybe drinking would steady them? Maybe that would help her sleep tonight. One glance around the campfire in this cave told her she wouldn’t be the only one. Dozens of brave men and women had died today. Burning, bleeding, screaming. Many of them had been Blademarks, which was a severe complication when Stella was an agent of a rival political faction. And even though House Deneith was apparently staging some kind of wight-powered coup here, if anybody had recognised her attacking them, she might have started a whole different war. Why would anyone notice you, Starling? Maev is the one who blew up their wagon with a fireball. Maev is the one who shattered their wights into ice shards. Maev is headline news. You’re just a footnote. Right? Fuck. But that wasn’t even the real problem right now. It was the stupid prisoner - the one nursing his fresh bruises in the darkness at the back of the cave right now. No doubt being captured had been his own fault. It didn’t seem like Maev had mistreated him any more than was necessary. He was a professional murderer, he probably deserved all this. And yet Stella could barely swallow past the strangling tightness in her throat. It took considerable effort to keep her muscles relaxed and her face blank. She shouldn’t have watched him being interrogated. She should have known the panic would come back. Even as she argued with herself, Stella caved in to the inevitable. She picked up her wine flask along with the cup and sauntered to the back of the cave, where the guard had probably seen right through her attempt at nonchalance. “Mind if I take a minute to talk with your Blademark? I’m not going to harm him. I can leave my weapons with you, if you’re worried about his safety. Or mine.” Stella had no illusions about how fast a well-trained Blademark could disarm her if he broke free. Close combat was not her specialty.

Location: Maev's Hideout Date/Time : Night, 21st of Aryth Who: Stella, Assorted members of Maev's Marauders, Morim ir'Soras Oh gods. Oh gods, help me. What are they going to do me? Why did I ever join the guild in the first place? What have I gotten myself into? Morim was shaking quietly in his bonds. The insurgent leader- Maev , he thought it was- had ordered him gagged and tied securely enough to make sleep uncomfortable. He still ached from the few swift blows she had dealt him; apparently, his information was faulty. She had treated him well enough before following his abduction, but the atmosphere in these caverns had soured. Optimism and idealism and had shifted to desperation. These brigands were bloodied now, and wounded animals were cagey and unpredictable. Morim remembered his father's words as they sparred in the house courtyard in his youth. Philosophical platitudes, military maxims, rules of engagement and the code of chivalry- fuck all that had done when a pretty young woman had offered to buy him a drink one fateful night in Pylas Maradal . He had never had much confidence with women, but her eyes had been star-like in their glittering appreciation for his stories of tedium and bureaucracy at the Deneith guildhouse. In retrospect it was obvious she had been using him, but that night when she whispered a soft invitation back to her place into his ear, all his senses had betrayed him. Morim wasn't sure he even had a choice or if she had used some magic, literal or figurative, to overpower him from the start. The last he remembered was her tongue in his mouth as they had stumbled backwards into a dark room- and then he was here, in this drafty, dreary place. What did they want with with him? With the Blademarks ? And what were his own people up to that had inspired such drastic measures? "Mind if I take a minute to talk with your Blademark? I'm not going to harm him. I can leave my weapons here with you, if you're worried about his safety. Or mine." Maev? What more could she want with him? No... this voice was unfamiliar. He was on edge now, unable to speak but still able to scan the entrance to this side passage. Deneith had taught him to use minimal light to maximum effect in darkness, and he sized up the Khoravar woman who entered. 5' nothing, petite frame, self-assured. He recognized her from before, when Maev had returned from their Op full of thunder and rage. The woman seemed to be unarmed, not that that meant much. Interrogators who forewent obvious weapons were usually far more capable than their brutish peers. Morim looked up into her eyes as she approached with an imploring expression. He hoped she was feeling merciful; she might be his best chance to see daylight again.

“Thanks. If you hear screaming, feel free to come rescue me.” Stella laid her shortbow beside the guard, then followed it with her rapier. After a moment’s thought, she even braced her boot against a rock and unbuckled the concealed dagger strapped to her thigh, which got a raised eyebrow from the guard. Stella just shrugged. Her little dagger had proved an unpleasant surprise to many wandering hands, but if they ended up in combat here, spellcasting would serve her better. Alone and unarmed, she stepped past the guard into the shadows beyond. Although the distant fire cast only a smoulder of a glow, it was plenty for her half-elven eyes to see by. This small chamber hollowed from the rock felt twice as bleak with nobody else in it. The prisoner somehow seemed even younger all alone, which didn’t seem possible. Stella took her time studying him, reassuring herself he was disarmed and secured, taking in every detail all the way down to the clinging mud and broken laces of his good-quality boots. Not tall for a human man. Athletic in build. Nice enough to look at, if you liked them dirty and unshaven. He must have considerable talent and discipline to get into the Blademarks. And if Stella had learned his name from the guard correctly, that ir’ prefix meant she was dealing with the son of a titled family. He would be used to martial discipline, but not being kidnapped and beaten. Part of her had already calculated interrogation strategies. The right lever would crack anyone’s armour right open. But that wasn’t why she had come to see him. Not at all. “I’m not here to harm you.” Stella spoke in her calmest voice. “I’m going to ungag you now. Keep still.” She stepped up to him, slowly, and reached up to undo the gag. That put them very close, close enough to hear and feel him swallow hard as she touched him. Nervous? Or thinking about trying to break his bonds and strangle her? This would be an especially stupid way to die. She just had to trust the others would provide backup if this went bad. Once finished, she stepped back and let him have his space. The tiniest things became vitally important when you were being held captive. Personal space. A sip of water. Clothes. “I’m Stella.” It didn’t seem worth giving him a false name when Stella Starling hadn’t existed just a few weeks ago. “Complimentary room service at your five-star establishment. Wine? It might not be your usual quality, but it’ll do.” Stella drank from the cup to show it wasn’t drugged, then offered it to his lips.

Moment of Truth - Morning of 22nd Aryth Stella had lost her rogue. Again. After having to face off with a high-level spellcaster and minions just to recover what she’d thought would be his body, not to mention having to split up with him at the Blademark massacre, she really wished Rune would sit tight where she could watch him. Not because she especially distrusted him. Just because she had worried herself sick over the last twenty-four hours and her stomach was still knotted tight. This was stupid. She barely knew any of these people. She shouldn’t panic when they got themselves kidnapped. She shouldn’t risk getting into a lethal standoff over them. She shouldn’t hug them with that burst of relief when they came back safe. But the rain had hammered down all night, and Rune had never appeared from the darkness, and now Stella munched her breakfast ration bar and worried as the eastern sky reddened. Maybe he had gone for a walk and couldn’t find his way back? Maybe he had been swept down a ravine in a sudden flood? Maybe he was just sheltering in the nearest dry spot like a kitten? The sun finally broke on the horizon, spilling out molten gold, and Stella reached the end of her patience. She had wondered quite long enough, and not only about Rune. His psionic nonsense must have recharged by now and Stella badly needed to borrow it. So Stella slipped out of the cave, exchanging a quick nod with a bandit guard who was kicking back and enjoying the dawn view, and went in search of her missing rogue. A night of rain had washed the world clean, bringing a freshness to the air and a sparkle to the wet grass. Naturally, it had also washed away any footprints. Stella looked around and, seeing nothing, ventured further into the dripping trees. “Rune?” She didn’t want to raise her voice too much in case she got eaten by an ankheg. Did ankhegs eat half-elves? “Are you still here?”

Moment of Truth - Morning of 22nd Aryth Rune stared up into the canopy, thinking hard about what had happened and what to do next. Nothing had gone to plan yesterday and to top it off he had compromised the mission, resulting in a blood bath. Even worse, he had no idea if he had gotten what they needed.  Who was that strange man? He seemed to have a form of psionic ability of his own. So powerful.  Hearing Stella’s voice calling for him, Rune debates whether to answer or not. I guess I can’t avoid everyone forever.  Taking a deep breath and enjoying the smell of wet earth and just taking a moment to absorb the wonderful feeling after a refreshing rain, Rune stands and gathers his sleeping bag, waving to Stella from a nearby group of bushes that ringed a tree.  “Morning. Still alive for now. How you feeling today?”  Rune looks a little rough, with a twig in his hair and a smudge of mud on his shirt. Gods know I could use a long hot bath right about now. We all could.  The thought of Rune and Stella taking a bath together briefly flickers across his mind causing Rune to grin but dismisses the thought quickly. Stella was a dangerous unknown and he needed to keep his head on straight. 

Moment of Truth - Morning of 22nd Aryth Yes! Rogue acquired. Stella’s smile might have escaped despite her better judgement as Rune waved her over. He looked rather muddy and rumpled, but otherwise unharmed - yesterday’s bruises had melted away, and the tightness in her chest eased. Just like magic. “I really should have taken Prestidigitation as a cantrip. Hold still.” Stella stretched up on tiptoes to run her fingers through his hair, disentangling the twig. The mud on his shirt had dried enough to brush off. “There you go. Ready to impress the ladies once again.” Her palm lingered against his shirt for a moment too long before she took it back. That psychic blast yesterday must have destroyed her common sense along with her hit points. “Mind if we sit and talk somewhere? I’d like to, uh… show you something.” Stella tapped her own forehead. This memory stuff would never stop being creepy.

Location: On the road to Pylas Maradal Date/Time : Night, 21st of Aryth Who: Hendrick, Maev After having requested  Varron's  releasefrom the powerful arcane caster’s spell, Hendrick returned back to the fire. He went over today’s events – a distinct sour taste in his mouth. The dead family, he kidnapping, the ambush, the second ambush, the psionic danger, the wights. They have escaped mortal danger too many times today. They are in debt now. He didn’t know who to, but debts will have to be repaid eventually. Varron had been gone for a while now too. Maybe he was going to come back, but he did not seem like the person to stick around places he is not welcome in. Hendrick rummaged through his bag and lit a candle. Down to eight now. He once again got reminded of the pressing nature of his task, if he was ever going to see the end of it. If that was even possible in the first place. He muttered a few words hoping the candle could light Varron’s way, wherever it might lead him. He had difficulty to focus, as he was constantly overcome with anger, something he had managed to keep down for the most part in these recent wiser years. He dreaded the thought of the old Hendrick coming back. He could hear Stella talking to the prisoner-boy Morim , trying to extract some information. He noticed earlier, that she seemed familiar with Morim’s position in this scenario. He wondered what she had done to have ended up in a similar place in the past. Though looking at her now, it did not seem likely for her to ever be in such a position again, too deep-seated was the mistrust and suspicion. Hendrick wanted to know what Morim had to say, but he knew after today, this would not be a good idea. He couldn’t guarantee to stay passive. Once the candle had burned down he decided some action was required. He just had to do something, put his mind someplace useful. Maev had her own little cave at the end of a short tunnel, maybe she could shed some light. “Excuse my second interruption this evening, Lady Maev . Would you be inclined to grant me a second audience?” Maev seemed somewhat surprised, her mind being of to some place very different. She just gave him a quick nod and Hendrick stepped in and proceeded. “Apologies for disturbing you at this late hour. I know we all could probably do with some rest.” He still felt were the arrows had pierced his shoulder, his arm and his leg. “I am glad you have made it out with the rest of us. I could not leave you behind, since you have rescued my friend and covered the retreat for the rest of us. I would also like to apologise for Varron and thank you again for allowing him to make his own decisions.” If she had been passive until then, her eyes lit up at with Varron’s name being dropped. She seemed angry at first, but moving after pushing her thoughts around, she seemed very upset. The more she came back to Hendrick’s conversation, the more the sheer stress she was under showed. She barely managed to stop her hands from trembling. “Look, I don’t want to come here to you and pretend things are what they are not. I trusted you when you told us to help you out with this caravan, although we were not happy with the idea of killing men in cold blood. These men were definitely not innocent, I see that now as well. But you nearly did get us all killed. I am not here to judge. I just would like to know what happened. Wights? A psionic menace like this? Please forgive me if I am not happy with today’s events. We can call ourselves lucky you are so gifted in the arcane arts. And that you saved us all! What are we fighting here? What are the Blademarks up to?” Hendrick clearly had talked himself into a bit of corner there and he relaxed his judging face. “I am sorry. I am sure you were unaware and I am very glad you stood by our side in in the end.”