Devlin takes Trista's offered hand gently with his right; the metal band that covers his arm from wrist to elbow does not seem to hinder his movements at all. In fact the metal almost seems to bend and flex with his arm like thick leather rather than the black metal that it is.

"We're all probably guilty of having memories better off forgotten, but I've found that those are the ones that really define who we are." The man then lifts Trista's hand a bit, and bowing slightly, touches the back of that hand briefly with his lips. "It is a pleasure to meet you Trista."

Devlin releases the woman's hand and adds, "During some of the time I have been away I have found some small amount of information about those you strive against. Maybe it will be of use, or maybe you already have it." It is not really clear if he is speaking to Trista or Berd, perhaps it is to both. He shrugs at the usability of the information he has.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:32, Sun 20 May 2007.

Trista’s brows quirk as the man does not accept a handshake, but takes her hand with his ornamented one. The bracer gives and flexes, provoking more questions though Trista will not intrude until they grow more comfortable with one another. Allowing others their privacy is always paramount to the woman.

Chivalrously, he unexpectedly kisses the back of her hand, prompting the woman’s brows to rise. Her lips twitch up slightly into a genuine smile, “The pleasure is mine.”


The woman follows Berd’s gaze to the gallows. Beldrin. Turning back to Devlin, she responds, “Information is always welcomed. Hmm, perhaps not always but in this case, I’m sure it is. The group is split up. Several are in the Inn, a few more on the docks, and at least two have wandered off on their own. And, of course, Berd and I are here. I suppose,” her eyes once again take in the large harbinger of death, “there’s no reason to stay standing here.”

Devlin smiles and thinks about where he was headed, but once again that did not seem to be where he would be going, yet again. He had decided to continue the quest that he was on when he had first met... the smile fades from his face as he remembers her. He looks down and sighs heavily before looking up again, but the smile does not return.

His personal quest had waited once before, it could wait just a little longer. He knew he was close to his goal now though; the ship in the harbor told him that much.

"I guess that what I was doing can wait a bit." He finally says. "I do not believe that we met purely by chance. Chance is something that I don't really believe in, everything happens for a reason." The man's head tilts to the side. "If you are looking for this person..." Devlin points at the gallows, "... then it may mean I should help you find him. It may not, but..."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:31, Sun 20 May 2007.

Subtle emotions play upon Devlin’s face; the disappearing smile cannot be mistaken. Trista’s heart extends to any who suffer, and right now she feels for this man.

 With some sort of finality, the man offers his help, putting off his own needs for the moment. His words intrigue her. Chance and Fate. He does not bring up the latter, but they are intertwined; ideas for the philosophers. Delving into them would have repercussions on her own non-existent beliefs. On her past. On her future. For now, she simply accepts.

With a thoughtful nod, she responds, “Perhaps it is so.” Trista sinks into those ebon eyes and overwhelming knows he is right. In this case, at least, chance did not bring the two friends back together again. They have something to offer each other. Maybe even Trista has something to offer Devlin. Only time will tell.

In any case, she’s grateful to have him here. Another body working together is usually a good thing.


Trista turns her body around, studying the streets. If she does not see signs indicating where the local prison is, she’ll simply ask someone. Subtlety is not her strong suit.

On the gallows platform, the work continues, as the men rush to finish the structure before morning.  Attention is paid to every detail though, and no corners are cut.  After all, it wouldn't do for the prisoner to injure himself while on his way to meet his god...

Berd remains mostly silent, waiting for a response from several areas (including Dorian), and observing how these two people treat each other.  As expected, with politeness, respect, and mild interest.

When the opportunity arises, though, he speaks up, even as he receives 'news' from another of his segregated minds.  It isn't quite like that - what one knows, all know, but it's as good an explanation as any.

Lightning blazes across the sky, directly overhead, and the thunder slams down, like the hammer of an angry god...  People among the stalls scream, and the men on the platform flinch, and duck, and one even throws himself flat on the boards.  Oddly, there is no rain here, though anybody looking upwards would see what appears to be vast quantities of water sliding horizontally through the air...

The boom and the flash cause Devlin to look up wondering how long it will before he gets wet. Not that getting wet bothered him; he'd spent more than a little time outside in all types of weather. When he looks up he can see that it is already raining, but that the rain is pushed to the side before it reaches the ground.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:30, Sun 20 May 2007.

Trista listens carefully to Berd’s observations while her eyes roam, but she sees no sign of a prison. The woman’s head sharply snaps upwards at the heavenly display, seeing the rains roll off an invisible ceiling. The loud clashes work fear in many in the square. Perhaps this cacophony would prove useful to distract attention away from their group.


They need to find this prison and so Trista quickly moves to the platform where a man had thrown himself on the boards. She reaches to lift him up.

“Are you all right? Here, let me help you up. With the coming storm, perhaps put off work for a bit though it’s obvious you’re doing a fine job, she’s sturdily built. Where are prisoners held who await such a thing?”

Eloquence and subtlety are not her strong points, but perhaps in the confusion of the storm, the man will not notice.

Berd studies the sky with some trepidation.  He keeps on Trista's shoulder as she moves to assist the man, but then his glittering eyes turn toward the west.  A hill lies there, above the city, almost occluded by mist...and the image of a castle appears in the bridging.

A dungeon in a castle, a prison, all the same to Devlin. What they needed was an escort into this castle, someone that would not be questioned. Who better to get that information from than those that are right at hand.

One thing is sure, the man has changed some during the time he’s spent on his own. Even more than before he takes the actions he feels necessary rather than wait and plan.

He moves up beside Trista and looks at the man she’s helping then adds to that assistance by grabbing the man under an elbow...
This message was last edited by the player at 17:25, Sun 20 May 2007.

"Thank yer, Miss, and Sir.  Very kind of yer.  I've always been a bit nervous o' storms.  More so since I started strappin' on steel." he raps at his chest with his knuckles, and a dull *clank* reveals that he wears a breastplate of some sort beneath his tunic.  "I really 'ate this time o' year.  Problem is, this 'as got ter be finished 'fore mornin', so we can't really be takin' any time off."

"Prisoners, or prisoner, rather, is up at the palace.  Spy, they reckon, an' a murderer."

Devlin holds the man a brief moment longer, he needs one more bit of information...
This message was last edited by the player at 17:25, Sun 20 May 2007.

Trist’s gaze moves toward the West. She sees a haze obscuring whatever sits on the hill, though Berd’s bridging clearly shows her the city’s castle. Not far. But certainly, it will have security.

The man rises easily with both Trista’s and Devlin’s assistance. The woman’s eyes focus on Devlin a moment, unsure if she detects something to his movements other than what has been vocalized. However, her attention is drawn back to the make-shift carpenter as he raps on his armor.

She nods at his words, “A murderer, you say? He must be under high guard and security, then. I see you wear armor, so you must know more than most. What do you make of his guard? Sufficient?”

Interesting.  Berd thinks he knows what Devlin is about, of course.  But it's not in him to pry, not now.  He watches and waits while Trista questions the man.

"Oh, aye...  Well guarded 'e is." the man reports, "Even though 'e's barely moved, or spoke a word since 'e were arrested.  Down in the - "

"Rel!  Stop yer bloody gabbin', an' get back ter work, or else, so 'elp me, we'll be usin' you ter test this thing out, 'stead of the usual sack o' spuds!" another of the workmen yells, his face red, and his eyes blazing.

"Yes, Seargeant Garius!"  Hr moves away from the strangers, picks up one of tbe boards and starts to drop it in place on the platform.

A little way off, Cyan and her companions enter the marketplace.

As the man heads off Devlin adds quickly, "Good meeting you, Rel."

Then he turns toward the west ready to depart. "Shall we..." he starts, but sees the others. He has a plan for getting in to see Beldrin, but he had only thought of three, it won't work with more.

Devlin is only slightly surprised to see Cyan with the group and part of his smile returns. He had known that she was not dead when all others believed otherwise and he was just as sure that she was not the evil creature many had believed her to be after that. The surprise was minimal. However, there was no time for reunions now, that would need to wait.

Assuming Berd has a connection open to all, as usual, he quickly and briefly communicates: "I have a plan to get some of us in to the dungeon of the castle. We need to be off; time is short. My plan was to enter the castle with Trista. I can only take one person with me and it should be either Trista or Cyan. From the little I know, Trista may be the better choice. We can speak of it more when we are away from here."


Devlin does not want to wait. He remembers all too well the group's penchant for endless planning. He sees a new face or two, but he's not willing to bet that has changed. He finishes his turn to the west and starts toward the castle.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:23, Sun 20 May 2007.

Cyan's face darkens at the sight of the gallows, but she continues to walk toward it - the people she wishes to see are there.  She gives James a quick grin, and points out Devlin (unnecessarily, of course); enthusiastic, she is not aware of how they parted.

Berd is, and watches both men carefully.

Her amber eyes widen, though, when Devlin begins to move off immediately, without even waiting for them.  Then the statement flows across the bridging and she slowly nods.  A plan, then?  Very well.

If Trista is the better choice, then it should be her.  Though it would be good to HEAR your plan, Devlin, that we may support it.

And it is a fine thing to see you again, even if it is only your back.  That said with a hint of irony, and she rolls her eyes at James.

"Left.  Right.  Time to go."  She has been delaying this for as long as possible, but finally...there is no choice.  They are too close to Amber, and there are things Left and Right must be doing.  Not the least of which will be to observe and learn from the Nephillim.

+ YES GENERAL +

+ ...YES GENERAL +

The spurs on her riding boots suddenly fade, disappearing into the Underflow.  Cyan lets out a heavy sigh as they go.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:36, Sun 20 May 2007.

Of course Cyan was right. Devlin was too used to being on his own and not needing to think about planning around others. That had always been one of his... difficulties; working with a group, being too much of a loner. He’d been alone for years before he’d first met this group, and then alone again for... a long time when he departed their company. He would need to slow down. Besides, his plan was not exactly complete. There were still a few holes in it that he would need others to fill.

The man stops yet again before he is able to take more that a few steps, mostly due to Cyan’s comments, especially the one about only seeing his back. Turning he looks first at Trista with Berd perched on her shoulder. He should not really include the girl in his plans without her consent, he had just assumed, as he usually did... He would need to give her the choice, and perhaps Cyan would work as well; he had seen first hand her ability to play a role and act out of character.

His gaze then moves across the market to the others _{(not that I’m sure who all is here)}. He nods and the corners of his mouth rise a little more. I agree, it is good to see you again, even if it was a little unexpected running into all of you here.

You are right Cyan, we should speak first. We need a place of shelter where we can speak privately. I have questions and I will tell you all what I plan, but we should move quickly. We only have a small window of opportunity if my plan is to succeed. It would be best if we can arrive at the castle before this storm ends as its distraction will likely be to our benefit.

Is there a place any of you know of that is close by?
This message was last edited by the player at 17:22, Sun 20 May 2007.

The storm rages above; water, lightening, wind all send a shivering energy through Trista’s taut body. With matching eyes, she peers above her. Unnatural the storm may be, but it still lays claim to a terrible beauty.

Her eyes come back to the local, but he’s interrupted by the ever-annoying boss. She leaves the man with a, “Take care,” as he moves off. A few from the Inn appear and Trista turns her attentions to the group as Berd brings Devlin into the bridging.

Their newly returned friend does not rush to greet them, but instead gets down to business. Trista knows nothing of this plan of Devlin’s, but she understands the need to move. Her body sings with reserved tension, but she pauses in the Square. Devlin has allowed Cyan the choice of who accompanies him and so she waits for the woman to decide, after all, Beldrin is her friend. Cyan also seems to be the leader of this group, though there is no official banner proclaiming the fact. She simply is. The social dynamics within the group intrigue Trista, something worth understanding.

Part of her twinges at the thought of not going in after Beldrin. She doesn’t know the man, but she has a palpable need to free him from the Death Tree’s grip. The past requires it.

Cyan’s response comes, along with a rather expressive eye rolling. Trista cannot accurately interpret the gesture; but she considers it is aimed either at Devlin or at herself. A slight frown bends the woman’s brows before turning to follow the dark man.

I’ll do what is needed. I care only that the man does not face that thing unwarranted. A simple and short thought into the bridging. She realizes Devlin must have obtained his information in silence by invading the man’s thoughts. Another topic to think on, but now is not the time.


Devlin stops and acquiesces to Cyan while walking toward the bard. Trista stays where Devlin left her side with the reassuring weight of Berd’s small body on her shoulder and waits for Cyan’s further decisions.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:24, Sat 19 May 2007.

James returns Cyan's grin with a calm smile.  Devlin had chosen his own way at times in the past.  He probably would again in future, but that didn't bother James.  For a moment he tried to work out why a similar pattern of behaviour should trouble him so in Aaron and not in Devlin.  Perhaps, James decided, I simply understand the lone wolf mentality better?

James weighs Trista's comment carefully.  That she should avoid naming the gallows seems significant.  Some part of the pain Berd recognised, perhaps?  From his own experience, James had come to recognise that life should not be taken lightly, so he sympathised with Trista's intent.

We can always pop back into Donovan's.  He'll be surprised to see us again so soon, I dare say, but it's warm and it's dry.

Cyan moves closer, looks up at the gibbet.  For an instant a spasm of disgust crosses her features, there and gone.  She looks away, eyes darkening to hematite, and Berd shifts nervously upon Trista's shoulder.  But she sighs, passes a hand across her face, and smiles at Devlin and Trista.  "Well met," is all she says aloud.  More has been spoken over the bridging.  Reaching out, she grips Devlin's shoulder for an instant, and her smile is broad.  Again, one of those Questors who has disappeared has returned.

There have been far too many leave them forever.

Another peal of thunder rumbles across the square.  The rain continues to shatter upon Berd's shield.  Cyan glances up, then shrugs ruefully.  James, not surprisingly, has a fine thought.  The Blue Rose - the Inn to the side of the square, Devlin.  Donovan, the innkeeper, understands circumspection, though I would not wish to involve him in the plot itself.  Things might go ill for him.  We might use his common room to discuss, or at least a corner of it, give the man some business, then be about ours.  We have today and tonight.

Her gloved fingers clench in a fist.  But I promise you, Trista - I will move heaven and earth to keep Beldrin from that gallows.  Even if much has changed with him, he does not deserve a hanging.

No man or woman does.

Devlin, if your plan is sound we should implement it immediately.  Her tone does not indicate any lack of faith in Devlin's plan - rather, her qualifier is a formality alone.  Berd's silence on the matter is heavy with approval.

"A long journey for you," she says aloud, probably for the benefit of onlookers.  The bard eyes the dark wanderer critically.  "You have been wandering for some time, and it shows.  I can certainly stand you a drink...."  A wave toward the distant Blue Rose.

As far as Devlin is concerned, there is no time to be wasted. He believes that the longer it takes to iron things out the less likely the plan is to succeed.

"I'd love a drink" he says in response to Cyan's offer and without further delay he moves toward the inn was indicated. More can be said when they are inside.

A few steps away from where Cyan vocally greets Devlin, Trista remains still. She nods at both James’ and Cyan’s words across the bridging, but holds her place until all the others move back toward the Inn. She follows with eyes on Berd.


She pauses before losing sight of the gallows, her eyes lingering a moment and then she’s behind the bend with her eyes turn to the Inn. She watches as each enters, her eyes lingering on the back of James a moment. A drink some time in the future, but she wonders if there will ever be time for casual conversation. Likely not.

Trista remains outside, leaning against the wall with eyes closed for a few moments. The planning should happen over Berd’s bridging if there are others about, so the woman feels there’s no need to enter. At least, not quite yet.

Berd, on Trista's shoulder, snorts once.  As the group reenters the Blue Rose, the shielding above dissolves.

The rain pounds down.


Berd snaps off Trista's shoulder, to land upon a sign several feet away.  He stares down at her with glittering eyes, waiting.