#(also speaking of that: both of them with elven lovers with strong connections to the fade too? what the hell man.)

[frankensteined]

oh hahahahaha i knew that amerdian was an elf, but i somehow hadn't ever seen him until now and didn't know that he and rheda have the same vallaslin. mirrors of each other.

[author-a-holmes]

Underwing Challenge Day 3

"Who is your main cast? Describe as many of your OCs as you can cram into one post."

(Event Link) - (Day One) - (Day Two)

As many as I can cram into one post? Whooo-boy, you have no idea what you've asked for <3

Because Stolen is a Fantasy Romance, it's written in Third Person Close/Limited from the points of view of Stella Korazon and Reilly Mosswolf.

Stella Korazon

"Loving someone forever is the easy part, so long as you actually love them in the first place." - Stella

At the start of Stolen, Stella is a young but very talented thief. She was raised by her Da', Colm Korazon in a wagon that they used to travel the East Coast caravan route of Moryann.

Her greatest skills include being able to read a persons body language, and her pick-pocketing. She was taught how to fight, but her preferred reaction is to evade, dodge, run, or a mixture of the three.

Physically she's small. Short, and very slim, and with long blonde hair to her waist/hips and large blue eyes that make her look younger than she is, a look that she often uses to her advantage.

Stella's also a very good mimic, she can copy people's patterns of speech and behaviors as long as she's given sufficient time to study them.

Her biggest disadvantage is innocence. While Stella isn't naive to the dangers of Moryann, or the darker sides of the world she lives in, her Da' always encouraged social isolation. Teaching her to trust him, herself, and no one else. This makes for a strange dichotomy to her character that I enjoy playing with where she might be able to flirt with a mark and fluster them enough to rifle through their pockets unnoticed, but blush and stumble when being on the receiving end of genuine thanks or kindness.

Reilly Mosswolf

"You're in trouble, and I can help. Do I need more of a reason than that?" - Reilly

Reilly's parents were murdered when he was very young. He's elven, so very young for him was around 22 years, the developmental equivalent to mid-teens.

After his parents death, Reilly had his younger sister to look after, so he took to stealing. He was rather bad at it, and was caught. Luckily, for him, but the Guild Master of the Antillune Thieves Guild, Aldune Lamuird.

Instead of turning Reilly over to the guard, he took Reilly and his sister into the guild and looked after them, training both siblings himself when they expressed a desire to learn the trade.

At the start of Stolen, Reilly is 252 years old, and the current guild master having inherited his position from Aldune. Despite that he, and the guild, are in trouble.

For the previous year or two, there has been a rival guild from the Western side of Moryann beginning to encroach on the Antillune Guild's territory and while it hasn't yet escalated to an all out war, tensions are building.

Not least because around 6 months prior, Reilly's sister was found dead, having been clearly tortured. While Reilly is sure that the rival guild are responsible, he has no evidence and won't put the thieves under his protection at risk for a personal vendetta.

Physically, Reilly has the black eyes and sun-burnished skin of his mother's Desert Elf heritage. He also has black hair that he keeps shoulder length, and a scruff of a beard that helps give a messy edge to a face that would otherwise stand out in a crowd. He also has the traditional Forest Elf tattoo's that span from shoulder to wrist along his left arm; His family history written in elven.

His strengths are his experience, and his willingness to listen to opinions and advice other than his own. Reilly is a strong fighter, and Aldune taught him to carefully balance the racial specific talents of both his parents bloodlines, and to use them to his advantage. He has the powerful blows that belong to the forest clans, but the speed of the desert elves, making him a formidable opponent before he even picks up a blade.

Reilly's biggest disadvantage is his fear of losing people. Over the years, Reilly has lost almost everyone he's ever loved or cared for. His parents, Aldune, his sister Eryn, even a lover or two. He has an inner circle of people he relies on within the guild, six people he trusts above all others, but his best friend and the only one truly able to get through to him is Dara Brookor.

Reilly uses nicknames and pet-names to distance himself from his guild members, giving the illusion of closeness, but using the affectionate names to distance himself, and make sure he can't put a real name to a face should one of the people under his protection turn up dead.

It's when Reilly begins to use a person's real name, that they've truly begun to worm their way under his armor.

***

Stella and Reilly are surrounded by a small supporting cast, each of whom has a very important part to play in either the main characters lives, or the main plot, although that may not come to fruition within the first book...

Dara Brookor

"So you're trying to tell me that, when you realised you were developing a meaningful connection to a person you have known for less than a decade, you didn't panic, pull back, and avoid them like a complete moron?" - Dara

Dara runs most of the administrative side of the Antillune Thieves Guild. She handles all the records, job allocations and thief payments, and is also responsible for pairing up thieves whose skills will compliment each other.

She's also the best friend to Reilly Mosswolf. She met Reilly, and his sister Eryn, when they were attempting to steal from one of her clients. Before joining the guild, Dara ran a brothel in Antillune, and when Eryn Mosswolf tried to disguise herself as an employee to get close to her target, Dara interfered in an attempt to protect her staff.

Once the situation was explained, she ended up helping Eryn and Reilly with their job, and occasionally passing along information on good targets if a client tried to skip out on their bill.

Dara is over six feet tall, and almost half as broad, which is the only sign of her part ogre heritage. She has honey-blonde curls that she keeps cut to her jaw, and dark blue-green eyes.

She made good use of her imposing form to keep her staff protected and her clients in line, but eventually her establishment was set on fire by a competitor, which is when Reilly asked her to work for him instead, in the administrative side of the guild.

The fact that it meant Reilly got out of most of the paperwork was, he swears, simply a bonus.

Dara's strength is her ability to connect with people. While she isn't a thief, her long history in Antillune has given her a network on contacts across the city that feed her a steady supply of information, and Dara can quickly utilise those contacts to seek out any specific leads she or the guild needs.

Her weakness is that she doesn't want to think badly of anyone, and it can cloud her judgement. She doesn't automatically look for deceit and deception, which has often led to her finding herself in dangerous situations.

Thankfully, Dara strikes an intimidating form, can curse like an Antillune sailor, and knows how to wield blades well enough to back up her threats.

Myris Orinan

"I am not the youngest graduate from the college of Wizardry in nearly two centuries for nothing." - Myris

Myris Orinan is, simply put, a genius.

A forest elf in possession of extremely powerful elemental magic, Myris is one of only 3-4 people in Moryann who can control all four branches of elemental magic and manipulate them simultaneously to access the rare Kurro or Healing magic.

He completed his training at the College of Wizardry in less than 100 years, making him one of the youngest graduates to ever complete the training and he is also passable-to-fluent in over ten languages.

Myris is also entirely mute.

Married to Tanar Orinan, the pair met when Tanar had been hired to steal something from the library in the College of Wizardry. Myris discovered the thief, mid-job, because he'd been working late into the night and bound Tanar before demanding an explanation for his presence.

Tanar agreed to surrender the book, and forfeit the contract, in exchange for being allowed to court Myris and the pair were quickly inseparable.

Due to this close association with the Antillune Guild, however, Myris was attacked, kidnapped, and tortured for information on the guild, and on Reilly Mosswolf in particular.

Even though, at the time, he had no knowledge to give, his attackers punished him for withholding information by forcing an alchemical mixture into him that burnt away his vocal chords, effectively rending his magic useless as it's commonly accepted that without the ability to speak a spell, spellcasters and wizards are rendered powerless.

Myris proved everyone's theories on elemental magic wrong however by slowly developing his own language using hand positioning and finger shapes to communicate words and phrases, and with practice and strength of will he gradually taught himself how to cast spells with a non-verbal trigger, instead of a spoken one.

While Myris has physically recovered as well as he can from the experience, and his magic is as strong as ever, despite requiring more effort to cast non-verbally, Myris has been left with a powerful hatred of Vine, and an ever encroaching fear that such an attack will happen again.

After his recovery, and several assessments by the College to prove that he could continue to retain his Wizard title, Myris moved to the Antillune Thieves guild to work as their wizard in residence, providing wards and magical services to the guild in exchange for a modest fee and even working to create unique items to help the guild function better and to keep its members safer.

Myris does not leave the Guild grounds without Tanar by his side, and even then only in exceptional circumstances. If he is required to leave the guild for any reason, it also tends to leave him with nightmares for several weeks.

Honorable Mentions

I had some others I was going to do but this is so long already, and I'm already 7 hours into Day Four that I'm pushing them into an honorable mentions section instead.

Tanar Sotor Orinan, Indre Larieth, Lurall Penrith and Nilion Kurez are all additional members of the guilds Inner Circle.

Tanar is half plains elf and half human, and is married to Myris. He used to be the thief partner to Eryn Mosswolf after Reilly was made guild master.

Indre Larieth is a half-elf who was recruited by Nilion Kurez, but has remained steadfastly loyal to Reilly for many years. Due to her Snow Elf heritage she can appear stand-offish and cold, but she cares deeply for her chosen few, and will go to extraordinary lengths to do whatever she thinks is nessecary to protect them.

Lurall Penrith was once trained by the Ikhari guild of assassins. It wasn't a path he chose, but instead of running her decided to become good enough that the guild would have no choice but to allow him to leave. After he met Reilly, he leveraged the backing of another guild to convince the Ikhari to let him walk away. Lurall now runs the Guild Outpost in the Western Desert, but frequently visits Reilly in Antillune.

Nilion Kurez is a Forest Elf, and has been a member of the Antillune thieves guild since Aldune Lamuird founded it. He helped write many of the guilds laws, and has known Reilly most of his life, having watched him grow up inside the guild, and in many cases been one of Reilly's teachers.

Hawk Denill is the face of Vine in Book One, and the person who hires Stella to break into the guild and steal from Reilly Mosswolf. He is a dark character who I intend to be a thorn in Stella and Reilly's side for at least the first three books. Once a member of Reilly's own guild, Hawk was banished when the guild discovered he was responsible for a series of grisly murders in Antillune. Hawk has returned to the city only recently, confident with the backing of a new guild.

Liandra 'Andy' Jenkin is a bright but brash young thief who Dara partners with Stella once she settles into the guild. Andy is Human, but makes up for the disadvantages this gives her in speed and strength by sheer enthusiasm, and stubborn determination. Andy has a grudge of her own against Vine, since their people laid an ambush on her last job that injured her and killed her previous partner.

Colm Korazon is Stella's Da'. While Colm is also a thief, he's not a particularly good one. He raised Stella in a travelling caravan, using it as a base to sell all sorts of false herbal remedies, imitation magical items, and any other junk he could con people into purchasing. All the while training Stella to do what he could not. By the time she was old enough to blend in with the crowds that gathered around his stall, the items he attempted to sell were merely a distraction to allow Stella to silently search through pockets.

[andrastyn]

understanding the bear

Andrastyn sat in the branches of a tree in Moonglade, a cigarette pinched between her fingers and her gaze locked on the vast Elune’ara Lake that sat below Nighthaven. Her mind was unfocused, flickering this way and that between the druidic teachings she had been given by Cuhlan, the lack of clarity in mastering the form of the bear, planning a wedding for herself and Aerimell – it all seemed overwhelming.

Especially the bear part.

The elf sighed, taking a drag from her cigarette as she adjusted her position in the tree’s limbs. The creak of wood and rustling of leaves in the wind made it easy for her to relax – the gentle swaying reminded her of the way a mother would rock her child, back and forth in a pattern so controlled it couldn’t help but to soothe.

“That’s terrible for the environment, you know.” The unfamiliar voice speaking in Darnassian startled Andrastyn from her muddled reverie, and the elf nearly fell from the tree before catching her balance and snapping her eyes towards the source.

At the base of the tree, a youthful-looking kaldorei woman stood. Pinkish-white hair fell to her waist in smooth, straight lines that flowed with the breeze around her, and she bore the purple markings of leaves around her eyes that denoted to Andrastyn that she was, at the least, an adult who had followed her rite of passage. Her eyes, while wide and observant, also bore a hint of mischief and humor at having startled Andrastyn – though, the gaze she pointed at the cigarette between the latter’s fingertips displayed her distaste clearly.

“I know,” Andrastyn replied apologetically. She leaned carefully to ash the cigarette on her boot before placing the remains in a small pouch she had designated for the exact purpose. “Trust me, I was never the littering sort.”

The other woman sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “Better than some, I suppose. Mind if I sit?” To that, Andrastyn extended a hand towards an empty branch that looked sturdy enough, albeit a little high for one to jump and climb to. It had taken Andi herself nearly five minutes to scale to her own position and keep steady.

As if in response to Andrastyn’s natural skepticism, the other elf leapt upwards and – in a flurry of feathers and beating wings – a stormcrow settled on the branch before returning to her elven form. Of course. Moonglade, Andi, these are all druids, Andrastyn chastised herself mentally. Why do you think you’re here?

“So!” the other woman spoke up, her own silvery gaze looking over her new companion thoughtfully. “What brings you to Moonglade this time? I mean, it’s not Lunar Festival, and I haven’t seen you before, so I can only assume it’s guidance you seek.”

Andrastyn’s eyes turned skyward as she gave a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Right on the head,” she commented quietly. “You aren’t wrong. I’ve been struggling with figuring out my place on this path, and it just seems… I don’t know. Impossible, sometimes.”

Leaning forward on the branch, the other elf tilted her head with a frown. “Well – how do you mean?” she asked carefully. “Druidism doesn’t come easy to everyone, but I’m no mind-reader. Speak on your troubles.” Pausing, she seemed to remember something, and laughed. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I’m Elyrin Thistlesnout.” Hooking her right hand on a branch above herself, Elyrin reached over with an extension of her left hand. Andrastyn shook it, careful not to upset the balance that kept them both seated.

“Andrastyn Sundershade. Good to meet you, Elyrin.” With a small smile from Elyrin, the two settled back into their places. Andrastyn ran a hand through her hair, sighing. “Okay. So. I’ve been – well, very recently introduced to the path, right? My mentor, he… isn’t the Cenarion Circle sort, and that works for me. He’s taught me in a way I understand – never talks down to me, does his best to help. Most of it made sense. It’s hard, sure, but it made sense.”

With a sigh and a defeated gaze to Elyrin, Andrastyn shrugged her shoulder. “Then, figuring out how to shapeshift came up. As it turns out, discovering ‘how to bear’ is a bit more complicated than I figured. I’ve tried meditation, I’ve tried conscious effort, I’ve tried studying natural rituals and whatever else can help me figure this out, I’ve tried praying that Elune works whatever magic She can to help this along… but I just can’t figure it out.

“My mentor mentioned taking a trip to Vordrassil,” Andi continued, noting Elyrin’s confused gaze at the mention of the Broken Crown. “He’s always been one of Ursol’s devotees, and thought that showing me a bit more of that aspect – of something raw, something connected – would help.”

In response, Elyrin pursed her lips, and nodded. “I don’t disagree,” she said. “Your mentor has his own ways of doing things – but, perhaps I can lend a hand. Walk with me?” Descending from the tree, Elyrin motioned for Andrastyn to follow. After a moment, she dismounted from her branch, her knees aching as she hit the ground on the balls of her feet. Elyrin smiled and looked north, into the hills surrounding Nighthaven. “I think there’s someone that can help you.”

Walking some distance – past the village, up a small path and into the hills where the shade grew thick – Elyrin looked over her shoulder to Andrastyn. “Most of the time, when we have a new druid, they seek the counsel of the great spirits. At least, they used to. That practice has been forgotten over time, and most aspiring druids are merely passed the same blessing their mentors were given. You mentioned that yours wasn’t part of the Circle… maybe the differing approach is where the discrepancy lies?”

Andrastyn blinked. “I had considered that – but he said that he hadn’t conferred with the Wild Gods. That it just… was.” That response drew a sudden, surprised laugh from Elyrin that startled Andrastyn.

“The Wild Gods? Oh, Elune, no, of course not. If I had to reach out to the Twin Bears to understand my form, I never would have learned it! No, no. When I say the great spirits...” Elyrin stepped aside as the two reached a small clearing, and in it, Andrastyn saw the towering, serene form of a bear – transparent, almost, and ghostly in appearance, but the Life coming from it was unlike anything she had ever felt. “I mean the Great Spirits.” 

With a wide, proud smile, Elyrin beckoned Andrastyn forward before bowing deeply to the Great Bear Spirit, who turned its eyes on the pair with a watchful gaze. “Great Spirit,” Elyrin began, “I bring you a new student – she struggles to understand your form. Will you guide her in receiving your blessing?”

The bear sat back on its haunches, and though its mouth did not open, a rumbling voice shook forth and made itself known to Andrastyn’s ears. “Step forward, young one,” the Great Spirit spoke. “Let me have a look at you.” Andrastyn took a few timid steps forward, looking back to Elyrin – who offered a wink and an encouraging nod.

Looking back to the Great Spirit, Andrastyn bowed her head. “I want to learn the Path,” she said quietly. “But I fail to understand the tenets of shapeshifting – how to master my usage of Life. I don’t know what else to do.”

A low, chuffling laugh echoed from the form of the bear, and Andrastyn couldn’t help but be reminded of the way Cuhlan sounded similar in the same form. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she looked up to the spirit, her tension palpable.

“You… doubt yourself,” the Great Spirit spoke. “And that, my child, is exactly what prevents you from being able to learn. The heart of the bear is strong, courageous – it does not hesitate. Your actions must be pure of intent and forthright. That is strength of heart.” Andrastyn felt a warmth in her chest as the bear spoke, and a sudden vigor seemed to flood through her.

“Strength of the body is the other thing you must understand, child. It is power, swiftness of action. You must keep yourself fit at all times – physically, as well as mentally. The bear’s girth highlights its strength, as it is a ferocious foe in combat.” A tone of amusement drew into the bear’s voice as it continued. “The bear’s girth, however, belies its agility and sharpness of mind. These are surprises you must use to your advantage.”

With that, the vigor seemed to subside – it remained present, and Andrastyn felt it rush through her bones with the same bond to Life that she felt upon reaching out with her aura, but… everpresent. “I have seen your spirit – you are not new to battle. The scars you bear tell your story, child – but answer me this one question before I grant you my blessing.”

Andrastyn blinked, surprised. “… Anything, Great Spirit.”

The bear’s head seemed to tilt before it looked at Andrastyn keenly, its voice echoing forth with curiosity. “Your spirit – and your bond to Life – is not… average. It is augmented with something else. Whose bond do you carry, that changes your spirit so heavily?”

In response, Elyrin took a step forward, curious. Andrastyn, hearing the grass settle beneath the elf’s foot, nodded once and withdrew the amulet from around her neck, embedded with the sigil of the Red Dragonflight.

The Great Spirit, for a long moment, seemed to look over Andrastyn with intent. “… Your own potential remains, young one.” Andrastyn put the necklace back under her clothing, and looked back to the bear. “In fact… I believe that it will be a boon to you. You have my blessings, druid. Go… with strength.”

Andrastyn bowed deeply, whispering her thanks before returning to Elyrin, who peered at the other druid with skepticism clear in her gaze. As the two walked back towards Nighthaven, Elyrin spoke up, her eyes narrowed. “What was that all about?” she asked curiously. “What did the Great Spirit mean, ‘augmented’? Did you bind your soul to someone else’s?” She gasped. “Is it a lover?”

Andrastyn snorted. “Yes,” she answered. “My partner’s – in a way. I carry his blessing, and his own ability to use Life to heal seems to have made its home in my own. I don’t mind it… I don’t think it’s been a blockage, in any way. It just makes things a little more unique.”

“I’ll say!” Elyrin responded. “How do you feel, though? Excited? Nervous?”

Andrastyn took a deep breath, coming to a stop on one of the wooden bridges throughout Nighthaven as she found her gaze settling on the lake again. “Yes, to both, but also… calmer. A blessing is one thing. That understanding, that… potential. That’s something that will have to come with time. I think I’ll go pay my mentor a visit and discuss this with him. Elyrin?”

“Hmm?” the other druid asked, her brows raised.

“If I come back to Moonglade, I do hope I’ll run into you again. Hopefully, next time, it’ll be with less of a need for guidance – and moreso in hopes of finding a friend well off.”

“Hah!” Elyrin laughed, grinning wide. “I hope so too, Andrastyn. Safe travels – and may Elune always guide your path.” She waved before turning away, that same shift to the stormcrow sudden as a thunderclap before Elyrin was skyward and flying off towards the barrow dens. Andrastyn watched her go, her fingertips landing on the pendant around her neck.

“Not average.” Hm. That would be interesting to explore… but for now, she did owe Cuhlan and Lisana a visit.

[diguerra-moved]

Sylvanas & Nathanos! ... and i'm going to be greedy and say all. c:

send me a ship with a heart and i'll tell you... 

❤: who is more affectionate in public? in private?

I think neither of them is the type to be affectionate in public, but if I had to say one, it’d be Sylvanas — Nathanos not only isn’t the type to be affectionate in public, he’d police himself not to be. When they were alive, he didn’t want people to speak of them having a relationship because he didn’t want it to be prejudicial to Sylvanas in any way (and he was certain it would, because elves), and in undeath, being affectionate is something he’d never do in front of anyone else ever. Mostly.   

♡: who is the bigger romantic openly? secretly?

He would, I think. Both openly (since I think neither would be very openly romantic that isn’t saying much but?) and secretly because then he would actually really be. He is soft when it comes to her c’:

❥: who is more likely to plan something big for valentine’s day?

Nathanos, while they were alive. Although big might not be the word for it -- he’d try to do something meaningful and that she would enjoy, but he wouldn’t bother trying to impress her or anything like that. Elven things (buildings, parties, everything) always seem to him like they have a grandeur about them that he definitely cannot offer; but if she’s with him, that’s not what she’s after anyways. 

In undeath, even after they have admitted their feelings and are together, I can’t see them doing anything on happy holidays like that because those would be particularly hurtful. It’s poking at the wounds, remembering them of what they had and lost and will never have again.

ღ: who is more likely to initiate hand-holding in public?

Sylvanas would have to, since he wouldn’t kasndkfn

💕: who is more likely to make huge declarations of love in front of other people?

Safe journey, my love

No but aside of that one time we eavesdropped on him being Soft while saying goodbye to her, likely not Nathanos. Again, I don’t think they’re the kind of people who’d be very open in that sense; their relationship would be very private. Which ofc doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be huge declarations of love just? They’re for each other, not for the rest of the world. 

💘: who developed a crush on the other first?

Nathanos.........

💝: who spends more time (possibly overthinking) what presents to get the other?

Sylvanas strikes me as more of a perfectionist, so I’ll say Sylv.

💓: who initiates most physical contact?

Depends, both can do it. Mostly it would depend on circumstances, I think, so I’ll say they’re even on that.

But, for your consideration: Nathanos would do it in her Ranger-General days, when she was focusing too much on work and forgetting to take care of herself, so physical contact comes as both a way to break her apart of it and assuage her or take her mind somewhere else or offer comfort, and eventually he’s attuned to her enough that it isn’t even a conscious effort anymore, it’s just something he does to soothe her when she needs it.

And, of course, it being a natural response, he eventually does something reminiscent of it later on, when they’re undead and he went back to being by her side always, but of course, it comes with a good dose of angst c:  

💌: who is more likely to send cutesy texts to the other?

Neither ksjdnfkasndf at any point. They wouldn’t

💟: who spends time reading their zodiac compatibilities?

Sylvanas. Maybe the idea of zodiac signs determining anything amuses her. Maybe she’s curious. Maybe she believes it, maybe she’s reading to make fun of it. The world will never know.

💙: who is more protective?

Nathanos. Not because he doesn’t think she can’t take care of herself, or that she needs protection; he knows she doesn’t, she never did. He’s still incredibly protective of her, in every sense: he worries about Sylvanas getting hurt, he is outraged at anyone who dares speak ill of her, he’ll defend her name and her choices no matter what. Even if he knows she can take of herself, he’ll always want to make sure she’s fine. If she gets hurt, even if it is a minor thing, he’ll still want to make sure she’s well (and also that whoever hurt her dies thanks).

💚: who tends to get sick more often? who is better at taking care of the other?

Neither got sick often, but I think he’d be the better caretaker.

💜: who said “i love you” first? or, if neither has said it yet, who is more likely to say it first?

This is. Hard. I think neither would say it for a good while even after they were romantically involved? It would be something that would take time. Sylvanas?

💛: who believes in soulmates?

He doesn’t believe it in a sense of predestined lovers or anything fate related, so saying he believes it is a stretch? But he would have believed soulmates in a sense of someone you have great affinity with, a strong bond, a deep connection, an intuitive understanding, but those being things that are built, not that just simply happen to be. I don’t know if Sylvanas would believe it, though I lean more towards her not believing too.

[for-the-dales]

Chapter 7: Vivienne

Chapter 1 (Leliana): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/185692342364/the-path-forward-chapter-1-leliana

         Madam de Fer listened to the sound of rain pour down on balcony outside her study. She held up her latest concoction and took a dainty sniff before reeling back. It would seem that any old Wyvern heart wouldn’t do. She bowed her head and rubbed her eyes with her free hand. She knew it wouldn’t be enough, but she had still been foolish enough to hope. She set down the beaker and returned to her elegant mahogany desk where a heavy tome awaited her. A crack of thunder outside almost caused her to entirely miss the gentle knocking at her door. Almost.

           “Come in!”

           The gilded door creaked open and Bastien walked in slowly, his can tapping against the white marble floor. Vivienne pushed herself quickly out of her seat and rushed over to her lover.

           “My dearest you shouldn’t be out of bed.”

           Bastien chuckled while Vivienne led him over to her blue satin chaise lounge.

           “My love,” Bastien gazed at Vivienne adoringly while he sat, “you worry too much.”

           Vivienne settled herself next to him while keeping her hand in his, “Now dearest, you know I never worry.”

           “Of course, I meant to say ‘mild concern’.”

           Both laughed freely. The laughter stopped abruptly when Bastien began to cough violently. He pulled out a monogramed handkerchief to cough into while Vivienne rubbed circles on his back. When the coughing finally subsided Vivienne turned his face to hers to inspect his eyes for any murkiness. Bastien put his hand over hers on his face and said, “My love, you need to start getting ready for the party. Guests will begin arriving in a little over an hour. I suspect you’ll be wanting to enhance your already immense beauty.”

           “You’re right, as usual, I suppose time ran away with me.”

           “It will be interesting. The Herald of Andraste will be in attendance, I hear.”

           “Yes, she did accept the invitation. She’s a Dalish mage.”

           “In a room full of nobility? Oh it’s going to be a delightful party my love. You’ll have to tell me all about it later.”

           “I will come see you as soon as the party is over.”

           “Do you want to go with her?”

           Vivienne had been expecting the question, and she wasn’t ashamed of the answer. Still, looking at her dear Bastien’s once strong hand holding hers, the answer still stung a little as she said it, “Yes.”

           Bastien smiled and nodded at her, “Good. You’ll do great things with the Inquisition. Show them what’s what. From what you’ve told me of this Herald she will need your help.”

           “That is more than likely. And I am very happy to be helpful to her in this.”

           Bastien raised an eyebrow while lowering their entwined hands; “I suspect you’re also overjoyed at the idea of remaining good friends with her after you clean up this mess.”

           Vivienne gasped playfully and pretended to be shocked, “Why dear, now that you mention it, that would be delightful! One can never have too many good friends.”

           Bastien chuckled and rose slowly, Vivienne smiled with him but her eyes crinkled at the edges as she watched him. Bastien stood at his full height and said, “Go dear, I’ll call for a servant to help me. It is what I pay them for.”

           Vivienne’s eyes scanned her beloved one more time before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and leaving the room. Now was a time of action, and she had dawdled for too long already.

--------------

           Vivienne scanned the room from a high balcony overlooking the main entryway. The crowd was calmer than what was in fashion, but it was to be expected from and older and more distinguished crowd. Many of the young men who would have livened the hall had left this morning for the Grand Tourney.  Fortunately for Vivienne, not all of them had left. The Marquis Alphonse had been guzzling Bastien’s good wine since he had arrived.  Vivienne sneered as she observed him drunkenly declaring his immense valorto some very disinterested young ladies. She would have to intervene soon. He had a purpose here tonight, but she didn’t want him to make too much of a ruckus before then.

           The crack of the majordomo’s staff against the marble floor drew Vivienne’s attention to the entryway.

           The hall quieted as the short man announced, “Presenting Ellana Lavellan of the Inquisition!”

           Those who hadn’t already fallen silent did so now. Vivienne moved closer to the railing to get a better look. The large oak doors opened and a short elven woman walked in. Vivienne was… pleasantly surprised. The woman at least knew how to make an entrance. She wore a low cut dark red gown that dipped scandalously low in the back. The dress was plain, but it was enhanced by the woman’s tattoos. Her arms were uncovered so Vivienne could see that the woman was covered in the dark ink. The ink alone didn’t stand out much against the woman’s dark skin, but the gold paint that followed all of the intricate lines did.  Large earrings with chains connecting them dripped from the woman’s large ears. Her black curls were pulled back loosely with gold chains that connected to matching gold beads in the woman’s hair. The candlelight bounced off of her and she shined.

           Her gold rimmed eyes flicked around the room while she descended the stairs, taking it all in calmly. The other guests had the good grace to breathe just for a moment before immediately turning to whisper with each other. The Herald glided across the marble with her dress trailing behind her. Vivienne could see that she didn’t wear any shoes but instead wrapped the arch of her foot with leather dyed the same color as her dress and the tattoo’s and gold paint extended down to her toes. Two minor nobles Vivienne only knew in passing were the first guests brave enough to approach her. Her smile was polite while she talked with them, and apparently said something witty enough to make them laugh.

           “The Inquisition! What a load of pig shit!”

           Vivienne smiled at the drunk Marquis while he ranted at he Herald. Vivienne detested rudeness, but she wasn’t a fool. She knew when to make an entrance too. She descended the staircase behind the Marquis and snapped her fingers, allowing herself to feel the ice flowing through them. Just as the Marquis raised his hand to draw his sword he slowed to a stop and thin layer of frost covered him from head to toe. His eyes were still able to widen and flit from side to side, trying to find the source of his immobility. Vivienne could see his nostrils flaring as his breathing quickened.

           “My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in myhouse. To myguests.” Vivienne emerged from behind the silly little man, “You know such rudeness is… intolerable.”

           She could hear the Marquis simpering behind her, “Madame Vivienne, I humbly beg your pardon.”

           Vivienne took a quick look over the Herald before turning to the lesser noble, “As well you should. Whateveram I going to do with you my dear?”

           Vivienne relished for a brief moment at the terror in the mans eyes. It served him right, disrespecting her honored guest was as bad as disrespecting her. Vivienne had worked very hard to make sure everyone knew the consequences of that. While Vivienne had set the trap, it was his own fault for being foolish enough to walk right into it. Her mind reeled with all the different ways she could make the man suffer the consequences of his actions, but she reigned herself in and remembered the show she was putting on. She turned back to the Herald and said conversationally, “My lady, you’re the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?”

           Every eye in the room now rested solely on the Herald. She could demand anything for this assault on her honor. Vivienne knew that the rest of the party was eager to see what kind of religious heroine this Herald would turn out to be. To her credit, the woman didn’t flinch. She looked at Vivienne for moment, she could feel the elven woman studying Vivienne the way she had been studying the Herald earlier. Then her eyes slid to the man standing behind Vivienne. She regarded him coolly and the room held its breath. Finally she spoke in the same smooth way Vivienne had moments ago, “The petty little insults of a petty little man are of no concern to myself or the Inquisition. It’s your party Enchanter, do what you like with him.”

           Vivienne grinned, magnanimous yet vague it was. The Enchanter turned to face the frozen man, “Poor Marquis, issuing challenges and hurling insults like some Fereldan dog lord.”

           Vivienne snapped her fingers and released him from his physical bonds, but knew that she still held his throat in her hands as she continued, “And all dressed up in your Aunt Solange’s doublet. Didn’t she give you that to wear to the Grand Tourney? To think, all the brave chevaliers who will be competing left for Markham this morning… and you’re still here.”

           While Vivienne knew she head the ear of every single person at the party already, she still raised her voice slightly for emphasis for the next part, “Were you hoping to sate your damaged pride by defeating the Herald of Andraste in a public duel? Or did you think her blade could put an end to the misery of your failure? Run along, my dear. Do give my regards to your aunt.”

           Vivienne turned back to the Herald, not even bothering to watch the pitiful man shamefully slip out of the room.  She smiled at the elven woman as if she hadn’t just destroyed that mans life and said, “I’m delighted you could attend this little gathering. I’ve so wanted to meet you.”

           Vivienne waved her arm up the stairs, and the Herald followed her up. The grand show was over, and now Vivienne much preferred an audience of one. She guided the Herald to a more secluded hallway with an alcove where they could speak privately. The Herald walked silently next to her and Vivienne took the opportunity to study her out of the corner of her eye. The woman walked gracefully as she eyed the large painting and tapestries on the walls with a faint interest. Her head never turned completely away from Vivienne however. She kept her guard up, even with a supposed ally. This was good. The Herald was smart. She’d hate to elevate a fool. Vivienne stopped when they reached a window with a view of the garden. She leaned against the wall and finally said, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court.”

           The Herald walked up to the window and looked down at the garden. She didn’t take her eyes off of it while she said, “Your garden is immaculately planned Lady Vivienne, I expect nothing grows in it without your express knowledge.”

           Vivienne grinned, “No, I like to know exactly what will appear and when.”

           What a delightful evening.

           The Herald turned then to face Vivienne and the Enchanter continued, “However, I did not invite you here this evening to discuss pleasantries. With Divine Justinia dead, the Chantry is in shambles.” Vivienne allowed her tone to become serious then, “Only the Inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people. As the leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause.”

           The Herald masked it well, but Vivienne could see the skepticism on her face. Good. Vivienne’s desire to be at the center of this had only been barely covered in her tone. If the Herald hadn’t picked up on it she would have to be a naïve idiot. However there had been something even farther under the Herald’s mask that Vivienne couldn’t quite place while she had been speaking. The Herald regarded Vivienne before turning back to the window to look down at the garden again.

           “Order is only as good as the one guiding it. Your garden is beautiful because you have a clever eye for it. I can see that you pay every seedling in it attention. It is full of beautiful blossoms. Even if you personally don’t water, prune, and fertilize your garden daily, it’s plain that you at least pay someone very capable to do so. You care about it. Therefore, it grows well.  I wonder if someone who did not care as much for this garden would enable it to be so beautiful?”

           Vivienne had already known the Herald was an apostate, and standing so close to her now she could feel the magic radiating off of the elf. She knew this conversation would come up.  The easy smile Vivienne had been wearing at night slipped from her face slowly.

           She took a moment to think about her next words, “True, some bumbling fool could come along and wreak havoc on the plants, stomp around and destroy the blooms. However, is that any better than allowing it to grow wild? Lichen has decimated wild Crystal Grace throughout the Hinterlands, yet here they grow abundantly. My gardener and myself keep a wary eye out for any possible growth or disease that could spread to the others and we cull when we need to, which serves to preserve the rest of the blossoms. Certainly some plants die, but it is necessary. It would be crueler to allow their sickness spread to all of the flowers when I could have prevented it.”

           The Herald smiled, “If only all gardens were lucky enough to have you as their caretaker, Madam Vivienne. Your concerns for your garden are valid, lichen can be very dangerous, but there is a flaw in your argument.”

           “Is there?”

          “While it is true that lichen have decimated the Crystal Grace population in the Hinterlands, the flowers are slowly but surely coming back. The plant has developed new ways to fight off the fungus and is growing stronger than ever.” The Herald turned from the window to face Vivienne, “Nothing can grow without adversity. Guidance and assistance is important, but if something cannot learn to stand on it’s own, it will crumble.”

           “So you propose that we simply allow them to be subjected to every disease, drought, and frost there is and hope some make it out the other side?”

           “No, but I do think it is a balance. To swing too far in either direction is dangerous and damaging.”

           “On that at least we can agree.”

           Vivienne knew that this wasn’t the end of the conversation. It was simply a stalemate. However, the inquisitor’s argument was not without logic. Vivienne was not foolish enough to believe that just because she personally did not agree with someone’s reasoning, it did not make them unreasonable. She could develop this relationship further, and she could trust that this woman would not act so irrationally as to do irreparable harm to mages across Thedas. She seemed as concerned with their well being as Vivienne herself was, even if they did disagree on the best ways to serve them.

           “Madam Vivienne, why did you really invite me here tonight?”

           Vivienne could work with direct if that was the new approach the Herald wanted to take, “As I have said, I wanted to meet you. And I wanted to offer my services to the Inquisition.”

           The Herald nodded but pressed further to her real question, “And how would joining the Inquisition serve you?”

           Vivienne drew herself up to her full height and spoke with strength, “The same thing anyone gets by fighting this chaos. The chance to meet my enemy. To decide my fate. I won’t wait quietly for destruction.”

           The Herald stared at Vivienne while she spoke, measuring the Enchanter. Vivienne was used to scrutiny at this point, but something in the elven woman’s eyes still managed to unnerve her. Vivienne refused to let her mild discomfort show, but she would remember it.

           Finally the Herald spoke again, “You introduced yourself earlier, now allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ellana of Clan Lavellan, I am the Raj’ha’haren of Mythal. Many call me the Herald of Andraste. I intend to close the Breach, find those responsible, and hold them to account for their actions. You are welcome to join me while I do this.”

           Vivienne smiled, “Darling, I would be delighted.”

Chapter 8 (Sera): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/188504490764/chapter-8-sera

[dancerwrites]

A Deep Breath and Steady Hands - Chapter 3

Summary: When his family is killed by visitors to Whitestone and Julius is the only one to escape their clutches, he loses his faith and seeks justice on his own power. But fate seems to have a different idea, when he ends up in the path of a certain group of mercenaries and he finds something he’s been missing. Rating: Teen and up Words to date: 7135

[read from the beginning on AO3] {read from the beginning on tumblr}

Up on Saturday instead of Friday because I've had a really crazy week despite it seeming, at the beginning of the week, like it was going to be normal. Tips for life: Don't sign up for three things in a row, and don't forget to get good sleep.

Still, the week is finished, and I did hardcore editing on this chapter (#proudofmyself), and so I hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know what you think. <3

Chapter Summary: Julius gets swept up into some interesting company. I've come too far (to see the end now) Chapter title from "Nothing Left to Say/Rocks", by Imagine Dragons, which has become my theme song for Julius in the past few weeks.

Chapter 3: I’ve Come Too Far

It was later that evening, when they’d received their evening meal and each turned away to eat, that Julius’ mind turned back to his predicament. Stonefell had been gone thirteen days by Juilius’ count – just over the time it would take for him to get to Whitestone and back with a horse or carriage – so where was he?

There was also the question of whether he had gone to inform the Briarwoods of Julius’ attempted assassination or not. Julius had assumed so, and while it was true that he hadn’t seen the man in years and didn’t know what Stonefell’s exact connection with the couple was, by the man’s own words he was still privy to some part of their current agenda. And while Julius had no idea what utility Whitstone posed to the Briarwoods other than the export of the city’s namesake rock, Stonefell had mentioned “plans” in the present tense, which was concerning.

Julius didn’t want to think about what the Briarwoods could still be doing to Whitestone, to his home, to the people…

He pulled up a mental image of the town square, where the Sun Tree rose over the smooth cobblestones, and imagined a steady rainstorm falling over the town, the sky black and the people conspicuously absent. In his mind’s eye, the castle on the hill that overlooked the ground had fallen, only moss-covered grey stones in its place.

Shuddering at the thought, Julius turned his mind back to the present, back to Stonefell. A real, concrete question that would hopefully be answered soon enough.

On one hand, the man might have decided it was easier to leave Julius to rot in a cell in Jorenn Village than deal with the hassle of getting the Briarwoods involved. On the other hand, he might have had business to attend to in the town (or even in other cities) before returning to Whitestone, in which case it could take anywhere from a couple weeks to over a month for Julius to know what was in store for him.

And even then, Julius reminded himself, Stonefell could take even longer to return, wanting to keep Julius on edge. Stonefell had never been the smartest, but he knew how to get under someone’s skin, and Julius was already feeling the need to spar, to run, to do something, pulling at him. Julius might never have been as anxious as Percy, nor as concerned about what others thought as Cassandra, but preparation for leadership of Whitestone had alerted him to the fickleness of people’s minds and attitudes.

He’d never needed to worry about what others would do when he was younger and the stakes were no higher than “I’m going to tell Mother”. Now, however, with such a sensitive matter, so close to home, he couldn’t help the anxiety that rose up at the thought of his future.

His whole family had been helpless, slaughtered by the Briarwoods and their associates. Even if his family name carried little weight now, he wanted to avenge the deaths of those who had been killed with no chance to fight back.

A dark, budding anger pulsed in Julius’ chest, and he felt a short spike of nausea as it made itself known, remembering the vision of black smoke that had come to him nearly two years prior, whispering that it would make it possible for Julius to get the retribution he desired.

Julius put little stock in the gods and even less in formless entities that appeared in his dreams – he had made it this far in his life through his own work, and he’d make it farther still, assuming he wasn’t locked in a dank cell for the rest of his days. But that didn’t mean that a small part of him wasn’t worried about the shadow’s meaning or intent.

He wasn’t stupid – he knew that there were entities stronger than himself out there. Devils and demons roamed different planes of existence, and the gods held their own sort of sway, even if they never took a vested interest in what happened on the material plane. There were even mortals who had ascended to god-like power through their own or others’ means.

Julius knew that something strange had occurred two years before, be it a dream, apparition, or hallucination. But until it came back as more than a memory, a whisper of vengeance recalled at moments of stress or fear, Julius decided not to give it thought.

As Julius set aside his empty plate and drained the rest of the water he’d been given, he realized Keyleth had gone very quiet. He’d grown used to her seemingly endless comments over the course of the day and for her to not speak through their whole meal was concerning.

Looking up, he saw she had barely touched the food on her plate – a bite was taken out of the biscuit, and a bit of the cheese had been broken off, but the roasted chicken leg was still there, undisturbed. Lifting his eyes to her face he noted that she was staring off into the flame of one of the torches, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Just as he was considering whether to ask her about it or not – having younger siblings and a lover had given him rudimentary skills to deal with emotions – Keyleth murmured something that didn’t carry quite all the way across the damp prison.

“What was that?” Julius asked, rising from where he’d been sitting on his cot and approaching her.

Keyleth was quiet for a long moment, long enough for Julius to wonder if she’d heard him, but then she spoke up.

“I said, ‘I wonder if they’re even going to come’,” Keyleth murmured, wiping her eyes with the back of either hand.

She pulled her legs into her chest and held them tight. “I mean, I’m only one of seven, and Scanlan and Tiberius can do plenty of magic, and Pike is better at healing than I am. I just- they don’t need my help, so why would they come looking? We were going to head out early this afternoon after staying the night, but now it’s evening and Agnes hasn’t said anything about seeing them yet-“

“Hey, it’s alright,” Julius interrupted as her voice sped up, bordering on hysterical. “Jorenn Village might be small, but there’s plenty of places they could be looking. You said you’ve never been to jail before?”

She looked up at the question, blinking hard.

“No.”

“Well, there you have it. This might be the last place they look,” Julius pointed out. The two of them had talked more about themselves than the group Keyleth was travelling with, but he doubted they’d leave her behind, based on how fondly she spoke of them all. If they did, then they were assholes, and Julius would be more than happy to teach them each a lesson. “Give them until tomorrow, then you can worry.”

Keyleth chuckled, and Julius counted that as a win.

“Ye of little faith,” said an unfamiliar amused voice, coming out of nowhere. Julius jumped, turning toward the entrance to the cell block, and saw a hooded figure step out of the shadows.

“Vax!” Keyleth exclaimed.

“The one and only,” Vax said, throwing back the jet-black hood of his cloak with a smirk.

Revealed was a half-elven man, roughly Keyleth’s age, with long black hair falling over his shoulders, a small portion of it pulled away from his face and secured at the back of the head.

“What happened to Agnes and the other guards?” Keyleth asked as Vax swept over to her cell, hardly making a sound on the stone floor.

“Knocked out, for now,” Vax said, fiddling with the lock for only a moment before it sprung open. Julius was both impressed at the talent and mildly disappointed. Keyleth had been a strong point of light in his life – the first in a while.

A small, selfish part of him wished she could stay locked away, if only to make his final days a bit better, but he immediately tamped that down. He focused, instead, on Keyleth’s overjoyed smile as she dropped the blankets and ran out the door of her cell, throwing her arms around Vax.

Julius winced at the enthusiasm of her greeting, but Vax, to his credit, only stiffened slightly as he braced himself, then awkwardly patted Keyleth on the shoulder.

“C’mon,” he said, gently pulling her arms off his shoulders. “The others are waiting outside. If we want to be gone before the alarm sounds, we need to move.”

“But-“

Keyleth turned to look back at Julius, and he tried not to put too much hope in the glance she shot him. Vax seemed to be in a hurry, his eyes already fixed on their exit, his attention tuned to pick out any sound of the guards should they begin to stir.

“What is it, Keyleth?” he asked, distracted. “Yes, we got all your things, no we don’t need to stop at the inn. We’ll probably travel for a few hours tonight, then pick up as early as we can tomorrow morning.”

“I was wondering…” Keyleth trailed off, pulling back from Vax and moving toward Julius’ cell. She took a deep breath and continued. “I was wondering if we could bring Julius with us.”

“Who’s Julius?” Vax asked, glancing back over his shoulder. “Wait, him?”

Julius wasn’t sure whether or not he should feel offended by the scathing tone of voice, but tried not to show it. He was, of course, in a prison cell, he hadn’t bathed in several weeks, and he had the beginnings of a scruffy beard growing in.

“He was nice to me!”

“Everybody’s nice to you, Keyleth,” Vax said with a sigh.

“But he doesn’t deserve to be here!”

Vax gave her an ‘Oh really’ look at that – one that Julius knew well from years of being the oldest brother with six younger siblings. Julius didn’t blame him in the slightest, either. If Oliver or Ludwig had come to him and asked for a prisoner from the dungeons to be released because they’d “made a friend”, he wouldn’t have entertained the idea for a moment.

There was also the fact that Julius knew, by law, that he certainly did deserve to be locked away. While he had a reason for what he did, that didn’t mean attempting to kill a man wasn’t meriting of some punishment.

“Keyleth,” he began, at the same time as Vax, who shot Julius a look that had him shutting his mouth.

“Keyleth,” Vax repeated, in a tone of voice that was trying (and failing) to not sound condescending, “He’s been locked up by the authorities. Do you even know what for?”

“Disturbing the peace,” Keyleth said without hesitation, just as Julius opened his mouth to say “Attempted Murder”.

He closed his mouth once again.

Vax rolled his eyes. “And what did he do to disturb the peace? Did you talk about that?”

“He tried to kill a man and failed,” she said, also without hesitation.

Julius saw the moment that Vax realized just what she’d said, and Julius wanted to drop his face into his hands at her unabashed statement. She meant well, but…

“Keyleth-“

“The man had hurt his family, Vax,” Keyleth argued. “We just killed a cult leader and his steed so we could help our friend!”

“That’s different-“

“And we actually succeeded!” Keyleth continued, her voice rising to a slightly higher pitch. “Whereas Julius failed.”

“Thanks, Keyleth,” Julius muttered, though he felt like he couldn’t exactly be angry with her for trying to get him rescued.

Vax’s lips pressed into a narrow frown, and he looked over to Julius, who was still standing just behind the bars to his cell. Julius did his best to look unassuming, but stood tall under the half-elf’s hard stare, waiting for judgement.

“I suppose we can let him out,” Vax conceded, removing his lock picks from inside his cloak. “But I can’t promise he’ll be coming with us.”

“But Vax-“

“We’re only two out of seven, Keyleth. That’s not our decision.”

“Okay,” Keyleth replied sullenly, rolling her eyes.

Julius couldn’t figure out just what had changed in Vax’s opinion of him, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Vax unlocked Julius’ cell with the same speed and finesse he had Keyleth’s, and Julius pushed open the door, remembering the last time he’d been released from imprisonment. He was grateful that Vax’s facial features and grave manner distinguished him from Cassandra, though the two of them wielded lock picks with the same intensity.

“Thank you,” he said, nodding to Vax as he approached him. “But will the guards be waking soon?”

“They should be,” Vax confirmed, still keeping a careful eye on Julius, even as he turned. “Come on, Keyleth, let’s go.”

The two of them started down the hall, and Julius kept close behind them. His fingers twitched, wanting his sword, but he didn’t want to startle them by calling Aetherius to his hand without good reason.

They came to the front room, where the guards had obviously been knocked out at their posts, and Julius turned, going for the room he reasoned had his personal effects stored inside.

“What are you doing?” Vax hissed at him with a sharp glare. “We need to go!”

“I’m only grabbing my things.”

Julius ducked into the room and glanced around, noticing a box helpfully labelled “Prisoners’ Possessions”. Inside he found his bag and coin pouch (which, miraculously, seemed to be undisturbed), and beneath them, Aetherius, his scimitar, safely nestled in his sheath. He strapped them to his person, then looked around and spied his thick coat and travelling cloak hanging from the same hook on the wall. He slid them on and headed out.

“About time,” Vax muttered as Julius exited the room. Julius refrained from rolling his eyes and headed to the prison’s door, where Keyleth was standing, looking anxious.

--

Based on Keyleth’s many and varied stories, Julius had known that the rest of Keyleth’s companions were a motley bunch, but that didn’t prepare him for the sight that entertained him on the edge of town, just off the main road.

He’d seen gnomes while travelling with his father for various diplomatic events, but never had he seen a goliath, nor a dragonborn, both of whom had to have at least a head on him. Compared to the gnomes- hells, compared to himself they were practically giants, and yet one of the gnomes – armored, with white-blonde hair – was playing noughts and crosses with the goliath in a small patch of dirt.

The other gnome, who wore an obscenely bright purple tunic, was twiddling his fingers over a shawm as if practicing notes for a song, and he looked up as they approached.

“About time!” he said, hopping up from the ground. “But who’s this?”

The other four looked up, eyes drawn to Julius as if he had a target painted on him. He noted a female half-elf, who could only be Vax’s sister, already had her right hand on the arrows in her quiver, her bow subtly readied in her left. She glanced to her brother, who tilted his head slightly and gave her a look that was difficult for Julius to identify. She frowned at him, but relaxed slightly, and Julius swallowed hard, remembering Oliver and Whitney doing the same thing far too often.

“Ah, Princess!” exclaimed the dragonborn in a loud, accented voice. Julius looked at him, confused, but the red draconic figure was looking past him, toward Keyleth. “I have been holding onto your staff as we awaited your safe return, and I am happy to see you safely free at last! Ah, here- here you go.”

The dragonborn hurried over to them, nearly tripping over the long hem of his robes as he held out a long staff of gnarled wood as if it were an offering to the half-elf.

“Um, thanks, Tiberius,” Keyleth said, a genuine smile on her face. “But I have told you not to call me Princess.”

“Of course, Keyleth,” Tiberius said, bowing his head to her. “Though-“

“Sorry to interrupt, Tiberius,” Vax interjected, “but we really should be heading out, since the guards should be waking up soon and-“

He was cut off by the ringing of the town bell, the loud tolls echoing through the village streets.

“And doing that,” he finished hurriedly. “Anyway. Julius, this is everyone; everyone, this is Julius. He’ll be running with us for a little while, so let’s go.”

Vax ran between the rest of them and straight into the forest, quickly followed by his sister. The goliath scooped up the two gnomes and took off after them, his speed making up for his lack of stealth.

“Poppycock,” Tiberius grumbled, seeming flustered, but he simplycast a spell that allowed him to soar up over the trees and away. Keyleth pulled Julius forward by the hand as they sprinted into the trees, disappearing into the dense forest just as the last peals of the bells died away.