Client: Duke of Tharkas
Difficulty: 1
Task: Locate Bandits who have been terrorizing the hovels in the West between Tharkas Castle and the Easulan. They're said to be housing themselves near a hill in North-Western Tharkas, but this is purely speculation. Once that's done, you must move South towards the Forbidden Port, a band of "ghosts" is said to be terrorizing people in that area. Though there haven't been any spirits in that area since the tide began to turn in the Second Demon War.
Reward: 1,800 Gold, 1 Orc Shield, 2 Gaffin Furs.
Manpower Limit: 3

((NOTE: Remember Only Human Knights, And Mages May Participate In This Realm.))

The winds blow gently from the East, over the river, and towards the West. The clouds hang mercilessly over the land, shrouding everything in sight with a dark veil of death and despair. You find yourself standing in the fields just outside the ruins of Tharkas Castle. The walls have cracked and begun to crumble, the outer walls were nothing but rubble, and the castle towers were close to collapsing. Most of the city itself was underground at this point, to protect it from Drmons and Orcish hoards. As you approach, the stench of smoldering rock and flesh floods your senses. Grass, once green, is stained a deep crimson color, and it looks to have died long ago. A man, clad in nothing but leather leggings, a crimson tunic that's light and tattered, with a chipped, dull sword, slips out from the rubble to stand before you. He is meager and thin, but has the looks of a man once strong. His eyes scan your body, sizing you up and deciding whether you're friend or foe. After several seconds of scanning your person, he turns and motions you forward without a word.

As you approach the castle, you notice that it is more rundown than it appears at a distance. The bricks are cracking and beginning to crumbling. They're about to fall apart at some points. It looks as if a small band of Orcs could seige the whole facility and drag it do the ground. Upon entering the belly of the city, the lot of them are impoverished and dreadfully thin. All of themm are caked in dirt and their hair and clothes are equally messy. Children are huddled up with their parents, who look upon you with fear. So similar, and yet so different, and they wonder why you've come to them. There looks to be little food, and even fewer animals alive in the underground city. It is dark, and certain areas with weak walls look similar to crypts, and smell of death.

Finally you're lead to the Duke, who is slightly better off than his peoples, only the Knights stay above ground to protect the city, and to lead outsiders into their hovels. You're given your orders, and sent back with a guide towards the realm's surface. Slowly as you climb back up towards the realm, the air freshens and things seem less hopeless. Once you reach the top, and find yourself standing in a drenching rain, one of the Knights points you off in the direction of your goal. You're first task has been given forth, be wary.

As Morgaine is led back to the surface and pointed in the right direction, she decided to await the other two people who may accompany her on this adventure to protect this Dukedom...

Leaning aginst the crumbling walls of the terrorized castle, she thought of how long it would take the rest of them to show up, so as they may begin...

Valcrist gazed at the misery which surrounded him, painful memories rising to the surface of his consciousness. It was all so different from the bustling streets he remembered from his childhood, yet, at the same time, it was all so very much the same. Valcrist closed his eyes and could hear the commotion of the crowd, the merchants shouting out their latest wares, and the children laughing as they ran through the streets. When he focused back on reality though, only the thin whisper of dispair could be heard on the breeze.

Valcrist moved forward again, pushing the memories from his mind. He had returned in part to face what haunted him, but his first priority had to be to his gold pouch. Without sustinence there would be no way he could conquer what he considered to be his greatest enemy; his own past.

As he headed back to the surface, Valcrist noticed a figure wrapped in a red cloak. Upon closer inspection he could discern that the figure was female and probably quite aged, but little else could be said of her for certain. Instead of the uncertainty which could sometimes be seen in the eyes of the elderly, a deep intelligence could be seen behind the silvery eyes. Also, her hair was not grey but still dark as though youth was abundant in her being. Valcrist decided to petition the stranger.

"Are you here for the job?"

She appraised Valcrist, and gave a simple nod. At first Valcrist would have considered her to be about 50 years of age, but after seeing an apparent wisdom in her eyes he checked his original analysis. After taking a space against the walls of the castle several feet away from his counterpart, Valcrist began to examine her. The more he looked, the more he wondered if he had not misjudged her age by forty or fifty years.

He said nothing, preferring, as was his usual custom, to make judgement on this person before introductions. Wondering when a third work-seeker would arrive, he began to let his mind wander, contemplating how to approach his return home when he had the time.

Morgaine, noticing she had a companion, she nodded to him in replay that she was in fact taking the 'work', as she kept her hand on her precious dagger, just in case...

Closed and introverted as she was, she did not feel the need to talk to this new 'stranger', and given he kept staring at her, as if to guess what she was thinking, Morgaine decided to remain leaned against the wall awaiting the third member who would be 'working' with them...

Alkioth of Nemenske, Knight of Tharkas, comes upon the man and woman from behind -- coming parallel with them several cubits away, however. He is tired, and in need of a bath. He's on two days of stubble, which isn't bad. His breath smells of sweet ham and wine -- the food the Duke so generously offered him.

Alkioth manages to suppress his depressing sentiments for the way Tharkas is these days. The demons have ruined this fine land, but one day the glory of God will set the noble people of Tharkas free. He touches his gold cross for a moment sentimentally.

He looks to his left, nodding to the two -- wondering which of them will be the first to speak to him. Would it be the man, or the woman whose hand was upon her dagger?

"You the third?" Morgaine asked, keeping her head straight forward and watching him out of the corner of her eye. She saw him clutch at a small object, and noticing it was a cross, decided not to say anything, though it was hard.

She closed her eyes for a mere second, hand still on her dagger under her cloak, waiting for a reply...

"In sooth, I am the third if you two are the first two," Alkioth says, with a tad smile.

He bows respectfully to the gentleman and reaches for the lady's hand to kiss it.

"I am Alkioth of Nemenske. You are?"

Morgaine respecfully pulls her hand back, nodding to him and the other.

"Then, shall we begin?" She asks...

"Indeed we shall, if the gentleman is ready," Alkioth replies, looking to his direction.

"I didn't catch your name, sir."

After the gentleman Valcrist finished speaking his piece, Alkioth bows and says, "Pleasure to meet you, Valcrist. I, personally, have no quarrels with your plan of action. As a Knight, I am always up for a quest of adventure."

Alkioth turns, gazing at the lady -- wondering if she has any objections.

Placing her left foot against the crumbling wall, Morgaine pushed herself off of the wall completely, before placing her foot once more back on the ground. Turning her head to the other two, Moragine said,

"First, Valcrist is it, I never follow, and it would be folly to think that I would not know my way around...anywhere for that matter. Second, I do agree that we should proceed with the utmost haste to ensure the safety of this castle and its people. So let us go."

Morgaine begins walking in large strides, hoping that the other two were keeping up...

Valcrist frowned. He was displeased with Morgaine's reaction, not so much because of the curtness of her monologue, but because she seemed averse to working as a team. While Valcrist himself often preferred solitude he had learned in the army that a group which works together well is much more effective than one with members who all want to play the hero.

Wanting to see if Alkioth had similar feelings, Valcrist gave an opening for comment.

"She's going to get herself killed one of these days if she doesn't learn to accept a little help from her allies."

As the group, loosely bound together by nothing more than the same job description begins to head off to the North East, the winds die down and the rain gets heavier. Large droplets of water, and some smaller drops of ice careen into the grassy plains shattering into myriad fragments of water that covers the ground and softens the dirt beneath the group's feet.

The coldhearted Mage, who seems to have strayed far from Cethindol Tower, taking the walking lead into the wide-open fields of Tharkas while she heads out towards the Easulan River in a North-Easternly direction, quickly followed by the two ex-knights. A bolt of lightning falls from the eternal curtain of clouds that hangs low overhead. The jagged bolt of light crashes upon a stand-alone tree in the middle of the fields, setting it aflame.

With the burst ahead of the group, their attention is brought to something else. A brown horse rushing blindly towards them. From the looks of it, it has a saddle on. However, there is no rider present. It's almost as if the horse is running from something. Suddenly screams of battle and death make their way into earshot, barely audible over the rain.

The light from the tree reveals a battle that has begun to ensue between some Knights of the Tower Guard, and a band of Orcs. This, the group assumed, would be the origin of the horse, and what it was running from.

Unfortunately the Tower Guard, no more than half a dozen, were quickly done away with by the ten Orcs, who after the battle dwindled down to four. It seems that the Orcs didn't notice the small band of warriors passing across the plains of crimson grass. The Gods must have been looking upon this group today, otherwise they'd have quite the battle on their hands.

-------

Then, things changed. Another bolt of lightning was hurtled from the sky, striking down some distance away from the group, lighting all around them for an instant. That instant was just long enough to draw the attention of the passing Orcs, one turned, then two more, and finally the forth. In a matter of seconds the small band of adventurers would have a group of Orcs assaulting them.

Alkioth grins, nodding.

"I knew a man who once said: 'The only allies are enemies.' I, personally, do not share that sentiment. Pray-tell you do not either," Alkioth says, catching up to the lady, keeping pace just behind her.

His strides are strong, yet relaxed. He walks with an air of confidence, yet with an air of benevolence. One could never tell he was in pain most of his waking hours -- as well as sleeping hours. His left hand rests lightly on the hilt of his rapier, his right swinging gently at his side. Alkioth's cross bounces gently against his leather breastplate.

Suddenly a brown, rider-less horse charges them just as lightning rips open the sky. Alkioth of Nemenske immediately lowers his body -- a "z" in his knees, left hand holding the scabbard of his rapier, his right on the hilt.

"Attendre!" he shouts to his two companions as the horse rushes by. "Orcs," he whispers, looking upon the battle. The Knights are losing -- and a pain pangs his heart.

Alkioth begins to step forward, lightly, silently -- as a warrior does -- but a second bolt of lightning gives away their position, and Alkioth's eyes widen as an Orc and he make eye contact.

"Attendre...Attention," Alkioth whispers to the others.

Valcrist readied himself for battle, which was mostly an emotional task. The Orcs seemed to be of the standard variety, which could most tersely be described as disturbing. As they began to lumber toward the group Valcrist removed his broadsword from his back, grasping the handle tightly with both hands, a style adopted only after leaving the army. He felt that he could trust Alkioth to watch his back, and hoped that Alkioth had the same trust in him. Morgaine was a different matter. While Valcrist had no doubt she was more than competent in battle, he didn't want to have to watch over her if her arrogance brought carelessness along with it.

Alkioth, placing his golden cross under his leather breastplate -- something customary for him to do in battle -- looks over to Valcrist, who was wielding his broadsword. He jerks his head the lady's direction.

"Shall we wedge in front of her for defense, Valcrist?" Alkioth asks quickly and intensely, knowing they have little time to prepare.

The answer to Alkioth's question took little thought.

"Absolutely. Let's just not get directly in front of her or we may find ourself in the way of a rather nasty spell."

He grinned. The idea of waging battle with orcs while outnumbered was not appealing, but Valcrist knew he had a companion in Alkioth.

Morgaine, drawing her wand from her sleeve, caught a glimpse of the two as they moved just in front of her, she then stepped forward to become even with them just as the Orcs began to attack them...

Alkioth grins, inwardly laughing a bit despite their predicament, and immediately finds himself in front of and to the right of the lady who never introduced herself to him. He quickly unsheathes his rapier, which is shiny yet has many battle scars, and prepares for the onslaught.

With his left hand raised chest high, he wields his rapier outward, waiting.

The orcs were nearly upon them. Valcrist and Alkioth had taken up the wizard's flanks; the ideal defensive position in Valcrist's mind. One of the orcs had singled him out and was charging headlong at him. Valcrist turned his left shoulder to his oponent and held his blade pointed at the ground behind him, preparing for a powerful upward slash. Normally Valcrist preferred to evade and parry, and not actually deliver a blow until it was sure to connect - and most likely incapacitate his foe - but it would be foolish to let the orc pass him. His female companion would be vulnerable and he would risk being open to attack from both sides.

The mage stepped up to Valcrist's side. He sighed, and hoped that she knew well enough what she was doing that he wouldn't have to play babysitter. Any more time for thought was cut short as the approaching orc brought his crude sword in a downward arc over Valcrist's head. The knight's broadsword whistled through the air, connecting with his opponent's weapon. Both fighters were slightly stunned as the force propelled their blades away from each other. Valcrist's was forced straight out to his side, almost slicing his wizarding comrade's cheek. With a quick thought of "she's going to get us killed," Valcrist brought his sword into his opponent's side, but just barely. The orc took a shallow cut in the trapezius, then thrust his fist toward Valcrist's now-exposed face. Caught off-guard, Valcrist's only escape option was to throw his upper body backwards, and then stabalize himself by spreading into a wide stance - a perfect opening for a direct thrust. He leaned forward, then let his broadsword fly at the center of his oponent's chest. Not an exceptionally difficult move to defend against, but difficult from which to go on the offensive.

The Orc raised his sword in defense, but was not fast enough. The parry met Valcrist's thrust, but there was enough power behind the sword to continue to carry it forward, into the beast's shoulder. As the orc let cry a howl of pain, it's sword hand went to its shoulder. Valcrist took the opportunity to execute a powerful slash with a wide arc, smashing his broadsword against the orc's wounded side, severing muscle and tendons, fully incapacitating the arm. Falling back a few paces, the orc's fury overtook its pain and it took a wild slash at Valcrist. The knight ducked the attack, and made to slash his opponent's now-vulnerable arm before the beast recovered.

Morgaine saw Valcrist get attacked first and, seeing that her direct opponent was not with in striking distance yet, she shouted Flameblast. A fire ball surrounded in a mass of flames shot at the Orc which was attacking Valcrist, knocking him over, giving Valcrist the advantage...

Just then the Orc who was charging her swung its sword at her, she ducked and raised her trusty dagger up, catching the Orc by surprise. Morgaine gave the Orc an elbow to the face, breaking its 'nose', as it fell to the ground also.

Just before his blade reached his oponent, a gout of flame crashed into the orc's side. "That was handy," thought Valcrist, who after recovering from the force the slash that failed to connect, made a downward thrust at his opponent. The orc made a weak attempt at parrying, due to having been more than a little stunned by the force of the attack. Valcrist adapted to the new angle of his sword, changed which hand was dominant, and stabbed the orc through the neck. A slight gurgle could be heard, and then Valcrist removed his sword and turned to see how his comrades were faring.

As the lady steps between Valcrist and him, Alkioth readies himself as an Orc on horseback charges him.

The Orc had to've known little about combat besides brute force because his sword was a straight-edge. Alkioth's eyes go intense as the Orc begins his wide slash, directed at Alkioth's head.

Alkioth steps aside, the slash narrowly missing his skull. He is beside the horse, letting his rapier cut across the horse's belly -- gutting it. As the horse hits the ground the Orc lets out a hellish bellow, flopping onto its back and letting rip a wide slash at Alkioth.

"Rahhhhh!" Alkioth screams, kneeling and letting loose a Brave Slash that severs the beast's arm -- black blood spilling everywhere.

Valcrist's comrades seemed to be faring well. The last remaining orc seemed to have judged the weilder of the flame to be its biggest threat and was running in her direction with its sword held high. Valcrist began to sprint in their direction, hoping he could get there before things potentially went sour. It was apparent that he could not directly intercept the brute; something unusual was required to halt the attacker.

Valcrist halted, raised his sword above his head, and then brought his arms down with force, releasing the blade at just the right moment. It whistled as it spun through the air, and landed in the charging orc's rib cage with a hollow sound. It was a lucky shot. The orc was thrown to the ground, completely unaware that an attack from the side had been eminent. Continuing his sprint, Valcrist caught his sword from his enemy's side, turned as the momentum carried him just past his oponent, and brought his broadsword down on the creature's neck in a clean chop. That was one more down.

The Orc screamed a ghastly, inhuman scream. It languished in pain on the ground. Alkioth took a step forward, plunging his rapier into its chest and twisting the blade around.

"Die, and return to Hell! God have mercy on your tortured soul," Alkioth said under his breath, putting his weight onto the blade as blackened blood poured out of the beast's chest and over its body.

He jerked the rapier out of its corpse and turned in time to see Valcrist take down an Orc with a strike of his broadsword.

Valcrist took another moment to survey the battlefield. Alkioth had soundly defeated the orc who had been on horseback, leaving only the wizard and her oponent. One more to go...

As the last Orc began to sprint at her, ready to attack, Morgaine gave a wry smile, and stepped right into the path of the Orc...the disgusting beast drew ever closer, Morgaine never moving, her Rod held in both hands. When the Orc was less than 4 feet away from her, Morgaine shouted Fireblast. The Orc was knocked back, but never fell. It stood there trying to catch its breath as Morgaine walked towards it...the Orc noticed her and tried to swing at her, she ducked and the Orc's momentum sent it whirling to the ground, at which point, Morgaine knelt down, driving her dagger through the beasts neck.

She stood up looking straight ahead, her dagger hung at her side, dripping of the dark blood. Morgaine pulled out a small black cloth, wiped her dagger clean, and resheathed it. She then turned around, glancing at the other two members.

"Sorry about that," Morgaine said, looking at the dead Orc, then back to the others, "Shall we continue?"

(((OOC: Correction, there is one Orc left - Morgaine has no dagger, and thus, she couldn't kill that perticular Orc in such a fashion.)))

Alkioth turns, seeing the Orc charging the lady. He reacts immediately, lunging forward -- thrusting his rapier at the kidney of the Orc. He barely connects, cutting a slight gash into it's back.

"Harken!" Alkioth commands to the lady.

Seeing as the lady hasn't had time to finish casting her spell, Alkioth rushes toward the Orc. He slices across its hamstring, dropping his rapier at the end of his slash -- as the beast begins to fall, Alkioth wraps his arms around it, tackling it to the ground.

They roll, kicking up dirt as they both grunt and grown, fighting one-another. Alkioth feels the beast shifting beneath him, attempting to break free of his grasp. The Orc jerks its right arm to the side, aiming its sword at Alkioth's ribs as it writhes and moans in pain.

Alkioth fires his hand down, holding the Orc's wrist down -- but it puts him off-balance, and the Orc kicks him off with its good leg. He manages to hold onto the beast's wrist, twisting it and trying to jerk the sword away. He fails, and has to grab the Orc's arm at its elbow -- he applies immediate and hard pressure, snapping the bone with a sickening thhh-crnk-CRACK!

The beast bellows in pain, birds rising up and taking flight in primordial fear. Alkioth grabs the beast's sword and wields it in both of his hands, kneeling over the beast.

"May God present you the glory of being in His shadow."

The blade plunges into the beast's heart, releasing both blood and its tortured soul.

The skirmish appeared to be over. Valcrist inhaled, held it for a second, then slowly exhaled. He had been through this many times in the past; the risk, the sweat, the blood, the inhuman cries of the unholy, none of it was new. But the fear remained. It had changed, of course. Experience had tempered his senses, removing the mind-numbing terror of the fresh recruit and replacing it with the gentle throbbing at the base of his skull. It was enough to let him know that danger was present, but not hinder his ability to defend himself. Still, at the end of every battle, he felt it leaking out of his system, like a heavy sweat on a hot day.

He sat.

Valcrist had not known the knights who died this day, but he mourned them nonetheless. He remembered the brotherhood between comrades, the feeling that you could rely on someone other than yourself when it mattered most. That feeling was gone now for him. He could count on nothing permanent. It was true that temporary alliances could be made. He trusted Alkioth to guard his back in battle, even after only having been travelling for less than a day, but Valcrist also knew that the odds of a friendship forming between the two of them was nearly an impossiblity. Alkioth was religious. Heavily so, as became apparent when he made the short prayer before vanquishing the last of the orcs.

Gazing up at the falling rain, Valcrist wondered what he should do from here. Confrontation? Maybe. But that would possibly mean destroying any chance of forming a relationship with another human being since the seige...

The church had lied. God did not protect those who fought the darkness, nor did He even protect those who believed in Him whole-heartedly. Valcrist remembered the screams, remembered his sister's broken body being trampled upon by the horde of monsters that was laying seige to his home. It was impossible to believe in the church now, impossible to return to a life of prayer and defense in the name of the righteous. Valcrist had a sudden spasm of emotion. Did God actually exist? Maybe. There was no proof otherwise. But he was not the God that the priests advertised. Valcrist did not hate God. He hated the church.

It was decided then. He would tell Alkioth, but at the earliest it would not be until after the completion of the job. That way he would have some security in combat at least. But afterwards...

Valcrist turned his gaze to Alkioth. He wanted to return to a life of people, of something other than solitude. He tried to fend off his suspicions that he would never be able to make the transition back to the way it was before. Thinking like that would get him nowhere, even if it was true. Instead, it was better to look to the future and attempt to rebuild his life on what was solid and concrete. Like honesty.

Valcrist sighed. Alkioth seemed to be a good man. But if he was enough of a fanatic things could get bad. Maybe even going as far as death.

((OOC: I'd just like to commend you both on your posting. It's gotten really good so far. I'm especially happy with this last one, Valcrist. If you can both do stuff like that or longer, and keep the quality up, too, I can see some mass level gains and junk in this Adventure. ;)

Good luck to ya!))

Alkioth stands above the beast's corpse. Blood is dripping from his hands, face, and his breastplate -- the blood is that of the Orc's, and Alkioth is victorious. He looks to Valcrist for a moment and nods, knowing they are safe for the moment.

His gaze falls to the Orc's. The cold, lifeless eyes staring back up at him -- through him, beyond him; perhaps to God and the Heaven He commands and shelters. The blade that sticks up from the beast's chest is bloody, and its previous owner deceased. But the evil is still within it.

"Pardon me, my friend," Alkioth says to Valcrist, as he pulls the beast's sword from its chest.

With a grunt, he sticks it into the ground and sets it at an angle. Alkioth holds onto the hilt, and with all his strength he kicks the blade -- snapping it in half. His breathing is still heavy from the short battle, but he conducts himself well. He places the broken sword on the body of the Orc, and retrieves his rapier.

After cleaning his rapier, he sheathes it and kneels -- facing East. After cleaning his hands as best he could with dirt, he pulls out his golden cross and begins to pray under his breath:

"Dear God, thank you for watching over me in battle. Thank you for watching over my companions. Thank you for the strength you have given me. Thank you for the fruit of the labor which you have allowed me to endure. Thank you. Amen."

He kisses his cross and stands, facing Valcrist.

"I am sorry for the delay," Alkioth says, most of the Orc's blood washed from his face due to the rain. "Pray-tell you are alright? You too, m'lady?"

Alkioth is sincere, and is glad to see them both standing -- apparently unharmed. Valcrist was sitting, and Alkioth wanted to sit with him. He had not had a friend since his last steed, and before that he had his good friend William of Irvain. But William was dead, and so was his steed.

He missed having a friend.

"I'll be fine."

Valcrist was moved by the simple question. In the forbidding land that he lived in the act of showing compassion for others was becoming a rarity.

"...Thanks. No one has asked me that in quite some time."

It had been several years since someone had asked him if he was alright. He had been travelling, presumedly alone, when a small band of rogues had ambushed him. Though Valcrist's fighting capabilities were superior to those of his attackers, he was well-outnumbered. When things seemed at their worst, a blind mage had appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and had aided Valcrist in defeating the bandits. After the fight the mage introduced himself as Crestierem, asked Valcrist if he was all right, and then left. It was an odd meeting to say the least, but one of the brightest moments in Valcrist's life since the seige.

Valcrist's current mage-companion made a simple grunt, though Valcrist could not be certain if it was in response to his last remark or to Alkioth's question. She puzzled him. She was rude, arrogant, cocky, and amazingly still alive. Her abilities were notable, but not exceptional, yet she behaved as though they were. In general, she was not at all a likeable person. Nevertheless, she was a part of the team, so Valcrist felt he must include her though he may not wish to do so. However, there was no need for interaction at the moment. The group would benefit from a period of rest after the battle. The wizard seemed to have different ideas though, and began to walk in the supposed direction of the bandit's hide-out.

What is she doing?

"Stop for a moment. We could all use a rest after the battle. I suggest you sit and wait while you recover your strength. You'll need it later." The wizard kept walking, without a response to Valcrist, who then turned his attention to Alkioth. "This is foolishness. I suggest we leave her on her own and rest for a bit. The two of us will be more effective when well-rested than as three weary travellers."

Valcrist waited for Alkioth's response, hoping it would be in agreement.

((OOC: Due to Morgaine's disappearance a looooooong time ago, Alkioth and I have been granted permission to take control of her in our posting. Otherwise I wouldn't be forcing any actions upon her character.))

"...No one has asked me that in quite some time," Valcrist says.

Alkioth nods. In this day and age, there were few places where people would let their guards down long enough to be courteous. Everyone brags about bravery -- yet no one has the heart or courage to be brave enough to be polite.

The lady grunts, and begins to walk away. Alkioth is himself confused, and takes a few steps after her.

"...You'll need it later," Valcrist calls to her.

"We must rest, m'lady," Alkioth calls, as well. But she keeps walking.

Alkioth's heart is torn. She is a lady, and should be protected. But she is also a mage, and difficult to trust. She's callous, most likely worn by her time on this planet. Some people fold and grow rough in the grip of a demon -- others pull together and shine as pearls.

Valcrist turns to Alkioth.

"This is foolishness. I suggest we leave her on her own and rest for a bit. The two of us will be more effective when well-rested than as three weary travellers."

Alkioth nods slowly, thinking.

In his heart, he is looking to God for guidance. He sighs.

"Sometimes, one must follow; and sometimes, one must depart," Alkioth says, agreeing with Valcrist. "Let's rest, then we can continue onward with our journey. God only knows what lay ahead of us on our quest, my friend."

A short time later, Valcrist felt ready to go. The loss of life today was something to reflect on, but the sooner the bandits could be delt with, the better life would be for the people of Tharkas.

The rain had stopped. Valcrist stood, brushed off his knees, then looked in the direction that Morgaine had left. Nothing suspicious could be seen on the horizon, but there was always some new threat just out of view. This time it was something simple. A band of thieves was generally not an overwhelming threat. Though Valcrist was not fond of the danger, he thanked fate that it wasn't an army of demons again.

"I'm ready when you are."

(ooc: *begging for forgiveness* i am really sorry I was gone for so long)

Morgaine, being a good way from the other two, saw one of them stand up, and, what looked like, was waiting for the other...'I'll jus wait for them here,' she thought to herself, standing up and stretching, reajusting her robes and, checking her rod out for flaws...

Alkioth stirred on the ground -- he'd almost fallen asleep when Valcrist had spoken. He was groggy, and blinked away the sleep he so desperately needed. He moaned quietly as he got up, dusting his hands off and securing his sheathed rapier at his side.

"In sooth, I am ready, my friend," Alkioth says, taking a few steps toward Valcrist. "But, it seems the lady has not completely deserted us," he whispers, his eyes flicking quickly in the direction she stands.

Alkioth cracks his back, taking a step away from Valcrist. He stretches, concealing a yawn poorly.

"How much daylight do you think we have left?" Alkioth asks, walking with Valcrist toward their next piece of this adventure.

As the two came up beside where she had been standing, Morgaine, walked up next to them, standing just to the left of Alkioth...she gave a short nod to them both as they continued walking...

"I would imagine we only have a good fifteen minutes at most," she said keeping her head straight forward...a cool wind began to pick up as they walked on...