In reply to Deev (msg # 17):

Looking around quickly, the total tally of dead is ten.

4 with matched livery to the two abandoned horses, 6 without livery.

In reply to GM (msg # 18):

With an effortless swing, the man twirls the massive maul and straps it across his back. Whoever he is, he's clearly had training, and his first instinct toward the party is one of de-escalation.

Ah. This must be the group I felt on the horizon when my battle started. What a pleasant surprise to not have to fight them off as well.

Yet.

The man looks the party up and down, eyeing them with an unsettling criticality. A moment of surprise flashes across his face, and vanishes back into a sea of placid neutrality as quickly as it emerged.

But they aren't children of the Earth, and yet.. they radiate with power too. Perhaps I am not the only one after all. Best to see who they are, and what their intentions may be.

The man holds his position, the posture of his body showing an easy confidence were things to turn, but the tone of his voice, a surprising baritone, portrays no hint of provacation.

Well met Sir Titus- my name is Zeke. My mercenary company.. he gestures with his hand at the unmatched dead, were ambushed by the scouts you see at my feet. I was hunting for our breakfast when the trap was sprung, and was too far away to intervene and save the company. Fortunately for the next group passing through, I was just in time to ensure that no others would befall their fate.

What brings you this far from civilization?

His stance shifts almost imperceptibly at the hostile question. He hasn't made a move, but he's made it clear he knows he may have to based on your answer.

If this morning's hunt was any indication, it can't be the food.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 19):

Brennan returns the arrow nocked in his bow to its quiver, but does not go so far as to shoulder the bow itself as he considers the scene before him.

His eyes rest on the livery for a moment, scanning them as if to tuck the information away for later before they come to rest on the man before them.


The lone survivor of any fight can tell any tale they want about how it happened and who the belligerents were, he muses silently.

"It's not the food," Brennan agrees aloud. His face holds a smile his eyes do not share. "We want no trouble. We're bound for Losthelm and have already been significantly delayed."

He relaxes his stance slightly and gestures to the scattered bodies.

"I am Brennan. Titus and I were once mercenaries ourselves, though that seems a lifetime ago now," he says gently. "My companions and I are among the Chosen, as you've no doubt noticed. As are you. Were any of your companions—or assailants, for that matter—likewise marked by the First Men? I do not mean to be callous, but if they were, we must act quickly to prevent their gifts from falling into the wrong hands."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:00, Tue 10 Sept 2019.

"Ciryl Fontaine," The weathered-looking man on the cart intones after Brennan's partial introduction, "purveyor of medical miracles for the modern day," he gives Zeke a polite nod from his position still atop his cart. "That is Deev, and Bryce," he points to each of the other members of their company in turn, "We aren't nearly as self-important as those two."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 20):

Chosen? Marked by the first men? Clearly they know more of my current situation than I do. Best to play dumb and humble and see what I can learn.

Marked by the First Men? Chosen? I know not the terms you use Sir Brennan, but I acknowledge that I see the aura emanating from your body. Truth to be told, the three of you are the first I have encountered who share my.. distinction. I had begun to believe myself the only one..

Zeke turns to address Ciryl, a small smirk curling it's way into a half smile. He's clearly more attuned to the lack of pomp offered by the self proclaimed Miracle man.

Always be mindful of those who lead with humility- they know true strength.

It's been a while since I've heard anyone happy enough to crack a joke. Thanks. I needed that after the disappointment of the evening.

He opens his pack and reveals a series of wrapped and cleaned filets. They appear to be from a boar, and they are most definitely fresh.

Never met a former merc who could turn down a free meal..

A solemn look takes up residence on Zeke's face.

My company was also bound for Losthelm, seeking new opportunities in the far flung places where men such as this.. unfortunately prosper.

While I wish I could say this carnage had stolen my appetite, it seems rude to lie to fellow travelers. Would you care to share the evening meal? I had enough for 6, and..

He makes a show of pointing to each of them and counting.

It seems that remains the magic number. As you said Ciryl.. Miracles of the Modern Day. Come and join me, and we can divine the mystery of our encounter here and now.

Besides, we can't properly tend to the dead on an empty stomach; it's just disrespectful.

Temptation of food, and an offering of faith. The hook is set. Will they bite?

Zeke turns his back to the party in a clear gesture of good will and begins making preparations for a fire.


OOC: For those who can see auras, Zeke radiates blue-green. Sorry- forgot to include in his original description. Putting it here for the current "bump".

Ooc2- updated to reflect time of day. Thanks Ciryl


This message was last edited by the player at 00:13, Wed 11 Sept 2019.

"Not as much of a joke as I might like," Ciryl replies to Zeke with his own small grin.  At the offer of food he shrugs and pulls his cart off to the side of the road before very ponderously climbing his way off.  The reason for his slow descent becomes more evident as he pulls a cane off of his seat and walks around to the back of his cart with a slow limp, "This fellow makes strong points, all.  Never snub your nose at a reasonable man on the road, they are much too far apart in my experience." His cane suddenly sticks out from behind the cart and waggles furiously in the air, "But!  They say there are no free meals!" his tone is sharp and cautionary.

After a moment and some noise from inside the cart Ciryl hobbles back into view holding a cheap looking jug which he waggles with a smile, "So how about we trade you a drink for it?  It's not good beer, but... well, it is beer.  I think."

((GM got you covered on the aura.  Also I think we're nearing evening.))

Zeke looks over his shoulder, an uncontained grin in full residence.

I cannot remember the last time I had anything that isnt more accurately described as yak piss. Ciryl, this may well be the start of a beautiful friendship.

And perhaps loosened lips will tell me more of these strange men..

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 24):

At the mention of his companions Titus' face turns down in a slight frown.

I'm sorry for the loss of your men.

When conversation turns to dinner Titus looks at the filets with obvious avarice.

Yes... We have some store of provisions, I say we make a meal of it!  Though lets make camp a bit further down, a battle site is no place to sleep for the evening.

When Titus turns around and sees Deev he sighs, exasperated.

Damnitall...

Zeke, I'm going to go grab that horse we saw running down the road, do you have any need or desire for the items that are left by battle?  I have found things like livery, armor, livestock and weapons to be... most useful.

This being your battle and your comrades I am certainly willing to scavenge anything you are not interested in.

He leaps into his saddle with a flourish, indicating extreme athletic prowess and body control.

On my return I'll help set up camp.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 25):

The two horses remaining at the scene of battle calm down some.  They aren't particularly fond of you yet, but don't seem to want to run and don't mind being corralled and staked with your own animals.

The one who bolted is long gone.  Unless you intend to run it down on your own horse, it cannot be recovered easily.

In reply to GM (msg # 26):

Opting not to get the horse Titus busies himself setting up camp and cleaning up the battle site.  He is fast and proficient at both setting up the camp and cooking.  As he works he smiles and laughs easily with the team keeping up a stream of tales and stories that are more or less familiar to the team at this point.  Stories of witches and birds, enchanting princesses, and demons.

For those of you who were there in the stories they are all, of course, imbellished and gilded around the edges but you recognize the broad strokes of the source material.

For Zeke he hears familiar story tropes interwoven with new characters, situations and strange happenings.  Some of these tales are attributed to a man named 'Lord Fastbender' others to various members of the team and some to unknown protagonists.

As a mercenary I'm sure Zeke has heard his share storytellers and wandering minstrels before... Titus may be the best he has ever heard.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 25):

Interesting. They defer to me for rights to the goods of the dead. And he claims to be a former mercenary? The only claim of ownership anyone has is the will and ability to defend what's theirs. He should know that.


While his words would prove to be callous, the look on his face was as matter of fact as though he were about to tell Titus the sky was blue.

You know as well as I the mercenary code, Titus. Personal effects of religious and clearly familiar nature are to be buried with the bodies, granting the same dignity we all hope for when we meet our makers. Instruments of war and survival pass to those strong enough to take them, as they did for my former comrades.

Zeke allows himself to be regaled by stories from Titus as he sets about assembling burial mounds for the 6 slain mercenaries. He makes no such gesture to preserve the scouts who made the mistake of crossing his path.

He's a talker, but I have to admit, he's a hell of a story teller. I wonder if he's heard any of the legends of the Mkwynn? Perhaps time will tell, but this bond is far too fresh to give any insight into such a deep and personal secret.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 28):

Titus smiles and makes a dismissive gesture as he talks of the mercenary code.

Bah, the code.  You've lost three of your band... you have had a hard enough day without having to fight us like dogs fighting in an alley over scraps... besides as Brennan has said there is a bond between us; and fighting over leftovers is counterproductive...  We are friends not rivals.

Titus assists in creating the burial mounds and attempting to ensure that his company receives proper rights.  He then gets to looting the bodies of the scouts.  He freely gives any money he finds to Zeke.

Consider this blood money from their master.  Do you have any idea whose livery this is?  Or why they are here?

He beckons Brennan over.

You'er as close to a holy man as we have want to say some words for the fallen?

/ooc: What do we gather up?
This message was last edited by the player at 15:24, Wed 11 Sept 2019.

Ciryl's offered beer proves to be soupy and not, in fact, good.  He lets Titus tell stories and has a laugh or shout where appropriate, but spends most of the meal simply observing the other five men as he eats and being conversational only if someone else starts it.  When it comes time to deal with the bodies he waits for Titus to finish looting them before laying them out on the side of the road with no small effort on his part and mumbling something about the next dream over their still forms while the other six are treated to more proper ceremony.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 29):

Who is this former mercenary that does not recognize the sigil of the Rebel "King" in the North?

Aye, these are scouts from Xander's army. They attacked my company and me believing us to be "Southron Spies". As you can see from my fallen company, they were not interested in a dialogue.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 31):

When Titus sees Ciryl struggling he will offer a helping hand.

As Zeke mentions the rebel king in the North Titus nods sagely.

Then I am very glad to have these.  This is as far North as I've ever been, its... different.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 32):

It is no trouble gathering up the equipment and goods of the fallen.  Digging holes and burying takes considerably more time, such that when you are done, it is well past nightfall.

The dead Scouts have little of much interest.  Their weapons and a few basic provisions as well as a handful of coin between them.

OOC: I have added the goods to your Company Supplies in forums

In reply to GM (msg # 33):

Deev falls to and helps Titus with the cooking and organizing of goods.

He keeps his distance from Zeke, and doesn't speak much.

In reply to Deev (msg # 34):

Bryce, on the other hand, is warm and loud.

"Both new company and bloody work warrant celebration.  I'll open one of the firkins we've been lugging ta... ammend friend Ciryl's offering."

"New stories," he adds toward Zeke as he fetches the keg, "are also warranted I suspect.  What stories do you have of the North?"

In reply to GM (msg # 35):

Zeke sits around a now assembled camp fire, a series of jet black rocks of all shapes and sizes encircling him. What their purpose is, he does not say.

While I am not from these parts, mercenaries tell tales no different than sailors or housewives. Have you heard the tale of Lord Fastbender?

Zeke, as matter of fact as telling you his name, tells a tale of a former reaver of the North named Lord Fastbender, a man whose cruelty was exceeded only by his infamous panache- traveling with a band of bards to inform towns of their oncoming doom.

He finishes the tale as uneventfully as it began, and returns to the arrangement of his rocks.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 36):

Titus sits forward anxious as a child as the story is told smiling a private grin to himself.

Fascinating...

He muses after Zeke's story.

He idly tunes his lute, belly full and smiling like the proverbial cat with the canary.

So Zeke, you were heading to Losthelm as are we, and you were looking for work in the area.  Our quest...

He looks to Brennan and cocks an eyebrow in inquisition.

Is of primary importance to the chosen.

He smiles easily and arranges himself to be comfortable.

Just to be clear, I know Brennan likes to act like Chosen is the accepted nomenclature throughout the land, but that means those of us with auras.

...as you can tell I'm a bit of a storyteller and, if its not too bold may I ask when your aura appeared and what, if anything was happening to you.  I'm hoping to put together of what happened, why and how.

/ooc did Zeke put the rocks there?  Are the floating or doing anything strange?  Did they crawl up from the ground?

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 37):

Brennan has little to add when it comes to the telling of stories, though he does assist with making camp and paying respects to the dead.

"We've run into the Xander's men before, but that was before our recent adventures. You'll have to forgive Titus's recollection," he notes when there is a lull in the conversation. "We are, as yet, rather unknown to them. I would prefer to keep it that way, so as to ease our passage to Losthelm. Did any escape?"

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 38):

Zeke listens with intent to the clearly well meaning interrogation from Titus, and the far more pointed and strategic inquiry from Brennan.

Such a diverse group of personality and sensibilities. There's an undeniable strength in drawing from the wisdom of others. Such is the Mkwynn way.

But are others Chosen? How? Why? This was my birthright. Am I Chosen.. or was I made?

With an absent minded precision, Zeke begins rearranging the rocks in a tight circle around himself, with the tallest at the four compass points. He crosses his legs, and exhales, with the closest thing you've seen to an emotion crossing his face.

Curiosity?

He turns to Brennan.

He'll want to know he's safe. He seems to.. need to know. Can he not defend himself?

Master Brennan, while I cannot speak with full knowledge of the group's numbers prior to my arrival, I can state with certainty that all that walked before me are now at rest. Your secret, it would seem, remains safe.

For now.

Master Titus, you inquire of the most personal of secrets with the least of discretion, and yet somehow in this recklessness is an undeniable valor that I concede puts me at ease. But I suspect you've had that effect on people for quite some time.


In a clearly autonomous motion, the rocks are gathered, and Zeke stands. He begins pacing a circle around the camp fire, placing them in a similar compass rose, but encircling the entire party before sitting down next to Titus and.. clinking his beer horn.

Why am I so want to trust this man? He seems a fool, and yet.. I think I need him.

I know not of what you speak of chosen and auras Masters, as I said before, yours are the first I had seen besides my own. I have always been somewhat gifted in sense and strength, perhaps owing to my upbringing as an Orphan. I've had to fight for much of what I've had if I have any hope of recovering what I've lost.


Zeke tilts his head toward Ciryl and takes a deep swig from his jet-black stein, a perfect mirror for his pocket rocks.

I was traveling north to rendezvous with my now departed company, and was making camp for the night, just as we are now, surrounded by earth, and oriented toward.. home. As I lay among the rocks, I suddenly could feel.. everything around me. I've always been attuned to my surroundings- any good mercenary is, but I could sense everything. It was overwhelming, and as I went to cover my ears and eyes, my shock was only accentuated to see, well, my aura.

From that night on, I've carried and arranged the rocks always, and I've been one with the world, and I thought, the only.

Tell me Masters, what is this Chosen you speak of, and how have you come to understand our mutual bond?

And what will you tell me of your own secrets?

"Honestly I'm in the same boat as you." Ciryl chimes in once Zeke addresses the group, "Woke up one day glowing purple, when no one else saw it thought maybe I'd gotten something in my drink or food, but when it didn't go away I thought I was mad until I came across this lot a few days ago."

Ciryl nods his chin toward Brennan, "He thinks we're chosen by the First Men and he's their prophet or somesuch.  While he thinks," Ciryl gestures to Titus but as he turns to look at the man he stops himself short and just sighs, "Well he's got more ideas than sense, I'll tell you that much.  I'm still not sure what I make of their stories, and wouldn't think to tell you what to believe when it comes to this strangeness, but Brennan says there are answers in Losthelm.  That's why I'm sticking with them. If I can see something and figure it for myself instead of just being told what's what by strangers I'll like it much better."

He huffs through his nose and prods the fire gently before looking up with raised eyebrows at Bryce, the one member of the company without an aura, "You should ask him what he thinks of it all.  The only one of us  you can be sure has nothing to convince you of."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:37, Fri 13 Sept 2019.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 40):

Zeke listens intently while Ciryl shares his story.

And it would seem, you've got both sense and ideas. One can never be too careful when zealotry is involved.

I share your perspective Master Ciryl; seeing is always believing.

Zeke turns to the magically nude Bryce.

And how is it you came to be with this group? What is it you believe to be going on?

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 41):

As Zeke talks to Titus he notices that Titus' eyes bore into him in a calculating manner.  If he is a fool he is clearly playing the part.  But a true emotion escapes when Zeke mentions being an orphan.  It was a flicker of empathy and brotherhood.  When he sits next to Titus he nudges him with a shoulder in a true sign of affection.

The good natured smile never leaves Titus' face.  When Ciryl digs at him sticks his tongue out at him while laughing to indicate he did not appreciate the gesture, but he is also not wrong.

You and are a different sides of the same coin.  I was always gifted, physically and, as you have already alluded to with the silver tongue of my people.  I'm a Mihnoan you see... we live primarily as traveling performers in the south.

I'm sorry for the loss of your family... I lost my entire troupe, suddenly and violently. Hopefully we can help each other recover what was lost or taken from us.

As you can see we are very different in our goals, our attitudes our beliefs, and our abilities.  However, we are united in this.  He indicates the aura.

There is strength in numbers and I have found the others who are not of the chosen are more likely to hinder than help.  They fear us and what we are capable of.

You are under no compulsion to travel with us, however, I believe Brennan when he says there is something important there and it applies to all of us.

He cedes the floor to Bryce

Present company excluded... of course.  The floor is yours guv'na. 
This message was last edited by the player at 12:56, Fri 13 Sept 2019.