Author: Marth, Posted: Wed May 25, 2016 7:04 PM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

Marth looked half-heartedly at Dalanesca as she tried to urge him not to give up. "I'm not, I'm just so fucking frustrated," he began, but let her finish her pep talk. If nothing else, he figured, it might help Dalanesca to urge him on, and so he pretended to listen while she talked. She sounded confident, and despite himself, Marth got a little encouraged - but it wasn't until she kissed him that his heart lept, and he decided to give it a serious second go.

He stood up, nodding firmly, and walked over to the shard. He was still furious, but his anger was now more tempered, its fire burning in a more controlled fashion. He felt like simply roaring and stabbing the thing repedeately, but something tugged at him - with all the energy contained in the shard, it might not be entirely safe. The last thing Marth wanted was to get posessed again. So, as he paced around the damned thing, he decided to give himself a little pep talk.

"You're but a fragment of something I have encountered before. And I am not only wizened by experience, but empowered by a new calling. I am Redeemer and Destroyer, agent of the Justiciar. Mine is the right to wield light and dark in equal measure. Mine is the duty to maintain order and balance. I am not a mere soldier, I am a scholar, a veteran of as many books as I am battles." While he was pacing, Marth was clearly thinking - reflecting, even. With each word, his voice became more steely, as he recalled all the events leading up to his current predicament. "Not only am I a man of magick, I am a man of philosophy. Not only am I a man of this world, but also a man of…" He halted, and his stern expression turned into one of curiosity. Then of enlightenment.

"But also a man of another world. A world with different rules." He squatted down next to the crystal, and put on some gloves he'd kept for a while - gloves of magickal insulation, which protected the wearer from touch-triggered magick, particularly curses and posession. He then gingerly picked up the shard, looking up at Dalanesca. "A world it would cost me nothing at all to simply go to. So. Shall we, my lady?" he asked, with a smirk. He then closed his eyes. "Blinded Scales, take me home." And at the command of its priest, the realm obeyed.

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Wed May 25, 2016 6:15 PM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

As she swiftly followed Marth toward the ruins, she continued attempting to call out towards him.  “Marth, slow down!” she called, though she knew that her words were spoken in vain.  She was becoming mildly frustrated - and for how small his steps generally tended to be, she realized he was moving fast.  Eventually, he stopped and she caught up to him.  She could sense disturbance in his mind - but it didn’t feel the same as the times she had felt Reaver’s presence.  There were flashes of good mixed in with the violence and anger, and it was this that gave her the peace of mind that Marth was still in control, at least for now.

She stepped into the room that the shard’s pedestal rest in, and for a moment she felt a very intense feeling of dread, a feeling which immediately retreated back within her.  She glanced at the shard, and although she could tell that it was a wretched object and felt an extreme desire to destroy it - but she knew that it was not hers to destroy.  So she stood back, waiting to see what Marth would do… although it began to seem that it was going to be a little more difficult than expected.

She stayed back, watching him closely, not saying anything.  As she could see her companion beginning to fail at his task, she began to think on whether or not she should intervene.  His anger was once again tangible to Dalanesca, the pain in his voice in turn causing her pain.  The shard was unlike anything she had ever seen before, and it seemed that even the magic in his Dragon Lance was not enough to destroy it.  

When he slumped to the floor, cursing, she slowly walked over to the shard, staring at it silently for a few moment.  Eventually, she turned to Marth when he had finished speaking, and spoke softly.  “No,” she said, quietly.  “You are not going to give up,” she said, sternly.  She walked over to him, and knelt in front of him, raising a hand to lay on his cheek.  “We came all the way.  We came to destroy this shard.  We will destroy it.  You will destroy it,” she said, her voice full of confidence.  “Just draw on my power,” she said, confidently.  She briefly leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, in a gesture of encouragement.  

Pulling her hand away from his face, she stood and walked to stand in front of the shard.  “Come on,” she said, turning to Marth and holding her hand out towards him.  “Get over here and do what we came here to do.”  She knew if he focused enough, he would be able to draw on her divine energy and concentrate it enough to destroy the shard.

Author: Marth, Posted: Wed May 25, 2016 4:29 PM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

Luckily, Martin hadn't seen how Marth had let Reaver out.

This was not, however, something he cared about.

In his mind, Marth was caught in a storm on the high seas. Thoughts and ideas from the past and present were crashing into one another ceaselessly, an influential person in his life apparently something completely different from what he'd thought up to that point. Or was it a lie? It had to be. Marth couldn't begin to fathom how his beloved mentor and CO had become so corrupted as to deal with dark magick. The Dragonlord didn't lack for power, nor did he lack for wisdom. For a soldier, he was also more compassionate than others. Always kind and understanding…

Marth barely even registered Dalanesca's words. His eyes were fixed upon the ruins in front of him, which reeked so terribly with evil energies. Even though his mind was in complete turmoil; doubt, love, and hate raging interchangably; Reaver was silent. Marth was dominant. Even more so, in fact, than normal. It was all Marth - his hatred of the demon, his desire to see that demon and anyone linked to it purged, the stoic belief that such a threat could only be feasibly removed through strength of arms.

He barely even registered Dalanesca's presence, for his fury had all but consumed him. And still, there were a few flickers of light that the godess might sense: Marth wanted first and foremost to rid the world of an evil, he didn't want to believe that his beloved mentor had tried to unleash it, and deep within, Marth knew that his thoughts and actions were influenced by his proximity to the shard. But Marth couldn't feel happy that he was about to reach one of his objectives; he was too preoccupied with thoughts of redeeming himself through the destruction of the shard. He didn't speak, didn't look at Dalanesca - for he knew that if he did, emotions might get the better of him. Logic will be my saving grace now. And logic demands I rid Revaliir of this demon influence!

And then, just like that, Marth stood in front of it. The shard.

It glimmered bright green and red, its otherworldy shape and power attracting all attention in the room - sitting as it did on a pedestal, a vile and repulsive artifact which would surely keep all but the most twisted of minds away with fear and disgust. The room was filled with an unnatural silence and darkness, a void so suffocating that normal people would have trouble breathing. Yet, when Dalanesca entered, something changed. The shadows paled, the silence gave way to the distant chirping of birds. The artifact no longer exerted pressure on the room and its surroundings - breathing came easier, and the place somehow felt a little less repulsive.

Marth looked at the shard for a long time without moving. He then let out a deep sigh. "I've finally reached the first shard - probably the easiest shard, and it took me half a year to accomplish. I should be extatic." He looked at Dalanesca, far from elated - in fact, he looked outright morose. "But all I can think of is how I just burned a beaten captive to death, and how it seems that one of my oldest friends is now among my enemies. Even on my hunt for redemption, this cursed demon…" His sad meekness was intantly replaced with tense anger, and he smashed the blade of the Dragon Lance into the shard, sending it flying across the room. "Causes me nothing but pain!" The shard hit a wall and rolled onto the floor, cracked and leaking. Marth looked at the shard with impunity. "That's right, demon. Bleed." He strode over to the shard, activating the Guardian enchantment on the Dragon Lance, promptly stabbing and striking at it repeadeatly. Each time, the shard hissed, but the lance, it seemed, was not strong enough to break the shard entirely.

Marth paced over to a corner in the opposite end of the room, and sat down with his head bowed. "… Fuck it. Come all this way, and the Dragon Lance can't even destroy it." He shook his head, chuckling weakly. "Never got around to planning this far ahead." It was almost as if he had given up, and as far as Marth was concerned, he had - at least, he didn't expect to be able to destroy the shard right then and there.

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Wed May 25, 2016 3:37 PM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

She blinked at Marth for a moment when he mentioned dying men deserving mercy.  The concept itself was not lost on her, but a part of her no longer agreed with it.  Rather than starting a debate with Marth, she chose to nod solemnly in acknowledgement instead, as though she understood.  It seemed that her divinity came with some great changes to her personality and her thought process, and that just happened to be one of them.  For a brief moment, she lay her hand over his own on her shoulder - a moment of warmth in the cold reality of the battlefield they stood upon.  

She followed his gaze around the battlefield, seeing what he saw - and she could tell that it was unsettling to him in some form.  It did not seem to be due to his lack of stomach for the scene laid out before them - she suspected that it had something to do with Reaver, and the fact that they were perhaps in close range of the shard they were hunting.  She frowned, unsure of what to do for her companion on this moment other than to keep close to him.

As she spoke of the ruins nearby and Marth informed her that he was aware of it as well, she reached her hand out to his own for a brief moment, squeezing gently.  She could nearly taste Marth’s discomfort, and could sense his proverbial scales tipping to the darker side. In normal circumstances, she assumed that physical contact with Marth would help keep him balanced, but it was apparent that the closer to the shard they got, the less influence she had over him. 

Upon Martin’s approach, she quickly pulled her hand from Marth’s and gave Martin a polite nod in acknowledgement, standing by quietly while he and Marth conversed.  As the two walked to Borza, she fell into step behind them, not wanting to distance herself from Marth too much.  When they arrived, she felt a sick satisfaction seeing Borza in the position he was in.  She stood a ways back from them, her arms folded across her chest, listening carefully.   She fell into defensive mode when she could see as well as hear that Reaver had made an appearance, but relaxed a bit as it became apparent that Marth was at least partially in control.  

She listened intently to the conversation, becoming worried when Marth began to speak of his mentor.   No, no, no, she thought to herself, taking a step towards Marth, though she froze in alarm as he screamed in rage and let loose a bout of dragonfire towards Borza.  The light caused her to squint, though even with her eyes partially closed she could still hear Borza’s shrill screams of anguish.  When Marth finally stopped, she opened her eyes again, taking the sight in.  Borza’s charred corpse lay motionless where he had been only moments before.

When Marth stormed off towards the ruins, Dalanesca threw only a brief glance at Martin.  “I need to go after him,” she said, without further explanation, and ran off after him.  “Marth, wait!” she called out, knowing full well that he was not going to stop and she would just have to keep up with him.  She knew that she would not fully be able to control him from unhinging, but at least she could make sure he did not completely lose it.  It was becoming painfully obvious that the closer they came to the shard, the more unstable Marth was going to become.

Author: Marth, Posted: Wed May 25, 2016 2:38 PM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

Marth assessed Dalanesca's condition as she spoke, concluding there wasn't anything he needed to do at that moment. He stood as silent witness as she finished off the man she had maimed, not saying a word as she ended his life. Marth didn't flinch - while some idealists chose to heal critically injured enemies, Marth - and his colleuges - had always chosen to instead grant them a clean, humane ending. Still, as she came back to him, Marth put a hand on her shoulder as she mentioned not leaving loose ends. "I agree," he said, "but it should always be quick and clean. All dying men deserve some mercy."

As Dalanesca mentioned how well the plan worked, Marth looked around. "I'd say it worked as expected. I expected the mercenaries to break and rout earlier, but at least we didn't take more casualties than I projected." As he scanned the carnage, Marth saw familiar scenes. Scorch marks on the soil; a blackened corpse still burning with lingering dragonfire; a man laying on his back, having died trying to hold his intestines from spilling out; a corpse missing half the chest and several limbs. In the back of his mind, Reaver was roaring with laughter. Marth tried to shake it off, but he had a sickening sensation which Reaver was strengthened by. Then, just as Dalanesca began to speak, he realised why.

He looked at the ruins she pointed out. Of course. He then nodded, somewhat weakly. "Yeah… I sense it, too." The aura of malice eminating from the ruins was the source of Marth's discomfort. It was odd - previously, detecting dark energies had been a matter of plain fact - kind of like smelling a particular kind of food you sometimes enjoyed, but not often. Now, that self same sensation was feeding Reaver, causing him to howl. It was only thanks to the presence of his lady that Marth didn't succumb to the voice outright - and a good thing that he didn't, for Martin approached them.

"Well, that takes care of that. Borza is yours to interrogate, Coralax. However, after that, I will be leaving - I have no wish to see the shard, and I must allow my brave men home to their families, and give the dead their proper rites." While he appeared stout and resolute, it wasn't hard to see that the young knight was in a bit of pain, and it was not from wounds in battle. Most of the men-at-arms were from his county, and he had played, trained, or been tutored and guarded by all of them. Now, four were dead and four more wounded - and even though he knew the righteousness of the cause, it was plain to see Martin was suffering.

"Not to worry, Martin," Marth responded. "I can handle it from here. Let me just interrogate Borza, and you can return home." Martin nodded, and accompanied Marth to Borza.

The dark wizard's face was bloodied from a laceration on his forehead, and his hands had been cuffed. He had also been seperated from the mercenaries, and two of Martin's men had him at swordpoint. Not that it mattered - Borza's hands were cuffed in a material that caused magic to unravel and destabilize, making spells either fizzle or explode upon excecution. Marth gestured for the men to leave, and they did. When they were finally alone, Marth spoke first. "How did you come to learn about the whereabouts of the shard?" he demanded, with Borza's aptly named eyes boring back into him with fury. "Why should I tell you? I will just be excecuted when I am done." Marth took a long pause. It was true - Borza had attacked a noble of Adeluna, started a fight which killed several of said noble's retainers, and done it all in the pursuit of an unholy artifact. His life was over. After a short moment, Marth's eyes turned black, he grew fangs, and from his hands sprouted claws. Even more unsettling, his voice went up several pitches. "You should tell us, because you have the choice between a clean death… And a horrid one." The grin on Marth's face and the pure malice in his eyes left little doubt - either Reaver had forced himself out, or Marth had let Reaver come out to play. Either way, Martin wasn't watching, and the wizard grew visibly afraid when he saw the image in front of him. "You know that artifact in there? That's a part of me. I would assume you know what that entails, fleshbag." The dark wizard gulped, eyes wide with terror. Another thing was quite obvious - Borza could recognize Reaver. "My employer. My employer told me everything." Marth - or Reaver - looked disappointed. Clearly, he wanted an excuse to tear the man to ribbons. "And who is your employer?" "A wizard from Wyllmochvar. His name is senator Kavesz Vorlaverli, also knows as -" "The Dragonlord."

In an instant, Reaver had retreated and Marth's face had grown deathly pale. He staggered backwards. "That…" He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "You're toying with me, you scum. That cannot be true, the Dragonlord… The Dragonlord is my mentor. I owe almost all my skills to him, and he is not a dark wizard." Borza just looked up at Marth, dumbstruck, but then began laughing. His laughter was throaty and shrill, and he was doing a lot of it. "HE ISN'T!" Marth yelled, and with a howl of anger, breathed a gout of white-hot fire, and Borza's laughter turned to a deafening scream of pain. It quickly subsided, however, for Marth kept blowing, even well after the wizard's corpse had turned completely black. Finally, after a full minute of just breathing dragonfire, he took a deep breath, and turned around, storming off in the direction of the ruins.

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Wed May 25, 2016 1:07 PM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

Having caught a gap in the onslaught, Dalanesca allowed herself time to regroup.  Her mind had somehow shifted into gear and given her a thirst for battle she had not ever felt before - but now that no one was attacking her for the moment, she could feel it subsiding.  She glanced towards Marth just in time to see him slicing through one opponent and setting the other ablaze with dragonfire from his mouth.  For a brief moment while watching him, she felt the same rush of adrenaline she had felt from engaging in battle herself, though he quickly dispatched his remaining foes and the feeling subsided.  She was beginning to understand just how powerful her Redeemer and Destroyer was, and had a new wave of thoughts of his capabilities circling her mind.  

From her vantage point, it seemed as though the forces were retreating.  Her thought was solidified as truth as Marth yelled to the forester’s sons to let them retreat.  After a moment, it seemed anyone left in the area was either on their side, badly injured, or dead.  Martin’s men-at-arms had taken a solid hit but still stood mostly in tact, the remaining men helping those on their side who were injured and executing those who were not.  She stayed in her place, sheathing her left-hand blade but still grasping that in her right tightly, the blade still shiny and wet with blood from her last victim.

When Marth approached her, she could not help but smile at seeing that he had come out of the battle unscathed.  From what she had seen, he had been more than able to hold his own, but there was that part of her deep down that had feared for his safety the entire time - though perhaps not when the thrill of running her blade through another had briefly taken over.    “I’m fine… Marth,” she said, though her smile faded a bit at the name he chose to refer to as.  She paused as she spoke his name, having tried and failed to come up with a comparable retort.  “I am glad to see you’ve made it out alive, as well,” she added, truthfully, and gave him a bit of a smile again.  She sheathed her blade and took a look at her hand as Marth questioned the blood, realizing that it was completely caked in red blood and bits of viscera.  She glanced to the victim in question, seeing the hole in his chest a bit too large to have been caused by a blade.  “Uh… no, it’s not,” she said, glancing around to be sure no one else was in earshot.  “I guess I’m a bit stronger than I know,” she added, subconsciously attempting to wipe her hand on leg.  She nodded down to her arm, where a steady trickle of blood was flowing out from the wound she had sustained.  “That, however, is my blood,” she said.  She prodded at the wound with her clean hand, seeing it was not bad enough to need stitches.  “I think I got the better end of the deal.”    

From behind them, a moan of pain echoed out.  It came from the man whose eye she had buried her dagger in - the blow had blinded him in that eye and he was incapable of moving from his severed tendons, but she hadn’t killed him.  She let her gaze rest on him for a moment, writhing in pain on the ground.  “Hold on,” she said to Marth, her voice sounding more annoyed than anything.  She sauntered over to the man who lay on the ground, and drew her longer blade from the sheath that rest over her spine.  The man began to sputter, begging and pleading as he could see what was about to happen with his one good eye.  She placed her booted foot on his chest and bent down a bit, forcing the tip of her blade up under his chin, slowly forcing it up into his skull.  When he ceased movement, she pulled it back out and sheathed it, walking back to Marth.

“Couldn’t very well leave a loose end,” she added.  Something within her had told her that too much evil rested within the group they battled, and left her with a resolution that killing was not wrong - not in this situation.  “It looks like your plan worked well,” she added to Marth, glancing around at the carnage that surrounded them.  As she scanned the area, she froze, completely still, her eyes fixed off in the distance.  A far bit beyond where they were standing lay the rubble of an old building, and she could sense something off about the area.  The more she focused on it, the more she could tell that this was where they needed to go - the pure evil resonating from it had upset the balance in that area.  Apparently, Marth’s plan had been even better than they had anticipated, and they had met Borza almost exactly where they needed to be.

She took a few steps towards Marth, standing close enough where she could speak softly - softly enough that only he could hear it.  “It’s there,” she said, nudging her head significantly towards the rubble she had seen.  She offered no explanation, knowing that Marth would understand why she was so certain.  

Author: Marth, Posted: Wed May 25, 2016 9:48 AM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

As the mercenaries charged at Marth and Dalanesca, the veteran wizard quickly assessed the situation. We're outnumbered. Martin's men are bound to win their fight, ours will be tougher. Borza will have no clean arcs of fire for a while, though that may not stop him. I cannot afford to worry about Dalanesca at this time, she'll be able to handle herself. I must paralyze Borza and buy time for Martin and his men to punch through and relieve us. These thoughts passed through Marth's head in a fraction of a second; And he wasted no more time than that to commence his attack.

Borza had kept a few mercenaries around as a bodyguard, and was preparing to cast. In response, Marth made a most disgusting noise with his throat, and small flames trickled from his mouth. He then spat, unleashing a glob of bright orange spit which launched itself in Borza's general direction, whistling past a mercenary on the charge. And then, the defile shook; In a single, visceral instant, two of Borza's guards were torn apart by the blazing shockwave - limbs, bone, blood and fire spraying from the spell's point of impact. Borza himself and a handful of guards where thrown through the air, and those guards not immediately knocked down were sent staggering in various directions. Martin and the men-at-arms didn't flinch - they all had extensive training fighting mages, and such magickal violence was something they were accustomed with - but about half of the mercenaries fliched and stumbled as a result of the sudden eruption.

All of that happened in the blink of an eye, and with murderous intent, Marth went immediately to work on pressing his advantage. Coming at him was a hulking man with a big sword, who in his rage had shook off the mental and physical impact of the spell. With a muffled grunt, he brought his sword directly down towards Marth in a wide arc - but Marth checked the blade, meeting it with the blade of the Guardian Dragon Lance, and with a grunt of effort turned the strike to the side. He stepped in, and in the same motion as his parry, jabbed the foeman's chest with the butt of his spear. The spear let out a spark, and the man howled. With a flash, his body contorted, electricity dancing across his flesh, and after a single second, he crumpled onto the ground, shaking violently. Marth danced, taking another step with a spin, once again bringing his leading foot forward - and the blade of the spear. From a sharp angle, he brought the blade bwteeen the man's seventh and eighth rib, piercing his heart - and that was the end of him.

At the same time, Martin and his men charged, using the shock of the enemy to their advantage - tearing through their ranks while they were disorganized. This gave them a number of easy kills, Martin himself claiming the lives of two foemen with his claymore. After the initial assault, Martin's men formed ranks and began pushing, an unyielding wall of shield and sword which brutally punished the lack of discipline and any technical error by their enemies. The mercenaries on that side of the battle had already begun wavering, and the less experienced and more craven mercenaries were already on their back feet ready to run. Martin and his men, on the other hand, fought with steely confidence, even after taking a few casualties, and with the screams of the dying in their ears.

Similarily, the forester's sons had created a battle line in the trees. Many of the mercenaries favoured larger weapos, weapons that in tight quarters offered very little flexibility. The boys focused entirely on surviving the encounter, but they had the presence of mind to know that eliminating a threat was a fair way of avoiding it - so without taking any hits but the most inconsequential, they brought down about half a dozen men themselves. Thanks to their equipment, training, and background, they were able to use the terrain to their advantage and prevent the enemy from bringing their full numbers to bear, and seemed relatively confident despite slowly retreating.

By now, the fight had raged for about fifteen seconds, and the second and third enemies were upon Marth. They approached from his eleven and two, but Marth wasn't deterred. Swinging his spear in a wide arc, he forced one foe to leap back, buying space and time with which to take them more individually. Marth sidestepped his closest opponent to bring him between himself and the other opponent, and with a jab at the closest foe's shin, Marth brought him to heel and excecuted him with a thrust just above his collarbone and down into his chest. The man who had previously lept back came at him, wielding broadsword and shield. I hate shields, Marth thought, but he wasn't helpless. He feigned a misplaced backstep and stumbled, losing grip on the Dragon Lance with his offhand, an advantage his opponent forseeably pressed. The man charged, and knocked Marth's spear aside with his shield - and for a single terrifying second, it looked as though he'd be able to cut Marth's head off. However, Marth's foot dug into the soil, and he was stable - and as he blocked the blow with his vambrace, he inhaled - and with a howl, engulfed his enemy in dragonfire. The mercenary's scream reverbarated through the entire battlefield, a feral shriek of terrible agony, and he turned and ran, arms flailing and covered in flames.

With their leader apparently incapacitated, facing well-trained regulars and a fire-breathing, lightning-wielding veteran of a hundred battles, the morale of the foemen failed them. The most junior of the mercenaries were the first to run, clamouring up a hill to steep to feasibly traverse, and the senior men who didn't follow were soon surrounded and slain. On Marth and Dalanesca's side of the battle, the picture was a little different - the dozen mercenaries who still stood were now fighting not to kill their enemies, but to punch a hole through the forester's boys and escape. Marth realised this quickly, and shoted to them. "Let them run!" The boys swiftly banded together and hugged a cliff in defensive formation - being a difficult target, the men pushing them didn't bother. Soon, the battlefield was clear, leaving roughly two dozen dead or dying mercenaries and half again as many fleeing, with eight men-at-arms lying in the dirt - one of which was a forester's son, but he had taken a wound to the leg and looked as though he'd survive. While the soldier got to work on helping their friends and putting their enemies out of their misery, a handful of them took Borza and his surviving bodyguards captive. They were all still a bit dazed and would be unable to do anything coherent for a minute or so, so Marth went over to Dalanesca to check on her.

"You alright there, 'Nesca?" he said, with a smirk - knowing she found the name a little annoying. He then spotted the blood on her arm, and perked an eyebrow. "I assume that's not yours," he said, casting a glance on the poor bastard she had stuck.

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Wed May 25, 2016 8:43 AM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

Though an impending battle loomed ahead of them, Dalanesca found herself fairly happy with the way the next few days passed.  The amount of downtime shared between Marth and Dalanesca had given them ample opportunity to discuss things regarding the Blinded Scales, and the changes that were to be made.  She found herself quite happy with the fact that, on occasion, Marth would make a comment or offer her a glance that kept the feelings the two had discussed alive.  He was a proper gentleman to her in all aspects, and she found it quite refreshing.  

—

When the pair met up with the forester’s sons, she felt a bit more confidence about the situation.  Dalanesca had never felt overly strong in battle, and although she was well aware of the fact that Martin’s men-at-arms would be in the fight as well - assuming all went according to plan - she felt a bit more at ease by the added addition of men.  Had she been in a situation where showing her divinity would have been acceptable, the battle would have been non-existent, as she could have dealt with everyone present in a simple motion; unfortunately, she did not land in such a position.  Protecting this aspect about her identity was crucial at this point - but she had a few ideas that she would implement when time allowed.

It had seemed that Marth’s plan worked well - they approached voices sounding in the distance.  She did not recognize the first man that spoke, but Borza’s voice rang clear to her before she could even see his face.  She moved to stand only a few feet to Marth’s left - wanting enough tactical distance between them but wanting to keep him close.  Martin seemed ready for a fight, and Borza and his men had not seemed to have noticed Marth, Dalanesca, or the men they had brought with them.  

When she noticed that Martin’s blade was drawn, she rested her hands on the hilts of two longer daggers, one sheathed on either side of her, in preparation for the inevitable.  Shortly thereafter, Martin gave notice to the fact that the company had them surrounded, and she could see the recognition in Borza’s face as his eyes travelled first to Marth, then to her, then to the handful of men that had come with them.  It was clear that he remembered her from the tavern, but it did not matter that their cover had been blown - she had an inkling that after this battle there would be no Borza to fool.

When Marth began addressing Borza, she glanced at him.  Dalanesca could see the power in his veins, coursing blue across his body  His voice resonated in a commanding manner, and it was unusual for Dalanesca to hear or see him this way - but she quite enjoyed it.  He shifted stance, at which point she brought her knees into a bit of a bend, half-drawing the long daggers from their sheaths.  

It seemed as though Borza was contemplating what he was going to do - but it became immediately clear that was not the case when he sent a surge of dark magic in Dalanesca’s direction.  She moved to dodge the bolt swiftly, but it was unnecessary, as she saw Marth make one swift motion with his Dragon Lance that deflected the bolt into the hillside.  Her eyes darted to her companion in a brief glance of thanks, but returned immediately to the enemy before them.  Half of the men had began a surge towards Martin and his men-at-arms, while the other half began rushing towards Dalanesca and Marth.  She looked at Marth, prepared to see worry in his eyes, but worry was not what she saw.  She could feel the violence coming off of him - he was prepared for a battle.

The five forester’s sons drew their blades, ready for combat, at which point Dalanesca also fully unsheathed her daggers.  Though she could not use her divine powers in this circumstance, she was not going to go without the extra boost to her speed and strength.  As the enemy grew closer, one man in particular focused on her - and she could actually see that it had been the man who had made an advance on her in the tavern the night previous.  She narrowed her eyes, and just as the man lunged at her with his blade, she ducked sideways out of the way, his blade missing her as he swung it down.  He lost his footing and did an accidental somersault, landing square on his back.

With excellent precision, she pounced on him, finding herself extremely grateful for the flexibility allowed by the Fellhunter armor she wore.  She crouched over the man, who fumbled for his blade, having lost it when he landed so roughly on the ground.  “‘Remember me?” she said, the scales of balance in her mind tipping towards the darker side.  The man’s eyes widened in recognition, but before he could utter a word she moved swiftly, burying one of the daggers so forcefully into his chest that her hand went partially along with it.  She froze for a moment, a bit taken aback but the outcome of her attack having not exerted much of her divine strength before, and quickly pulled her arm back, her hand and wrist thoroughly soaked in the man’s blood.

She climbed to her feet just in time to see another man swinging a curved blade at her.  She ducked out of the way so the blow did not land true to her neck, where it had been aiming, but the tip of the sword sliced through the outer surface of her armor on her left bicep - she could feel the cold stinging sensation that came with metal slicing through her skin.  It hadn’t slashed her too deeply, but her eyes narrowed in aggression at her attacker.  

He stood at least a foot taller than she, and in normal circumstances that would have had her backing down - but not this time.  Instead, she ran towards the man, who planted his feet apart in the ground, blade ready to strike at her again.  When she neared him, she dropped, sliding between his legs.  Her daggers drawn on either side, she slid them precisely enough to slash through the backs of his boots and through the tendon’s in his ankles, at which point he screamed in agony and dropped to his knees.  Dalanesca quickly stood, circling around him only to bury her blade into his eye socket.  Moving quickly,  she retrieved her blade, directing her gaze to Marth to see what circumstance he found himself in.

Author: Marth, Posted: Tue May 24, 2016 6:06 PM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

Marth smirked at Dalanesca on his way out. "Goddess of balance wouldn't deny anyone the chance to get even," he said, "but by all means - reprimand me, my lady." As he walked out, he ruffled her hair again, ready to embark on the next leg of their journey.

---

After a brief brainstorming session with martin, whereupon he took his men-at-arms to march a slightly longer, but hopefully faster route, Marth began following the trail of Borza and his cronies. Mercenaries one and all, they moved relativly slowly - and so blatantly that following the trail incognito was a breeze - and so Marth had time to spend the next few days rather leisurely. Most of the time, marth would chat with Dalanesca, making plans for clergy and indeed her own realm, as well as keeping the embers of the flirt burning comfortably. He made no untoward advances during the nights, though it still got chilly in the evenings, so he offered to lie close.

---

On the fourth day, the party reached the defile through which Borza had to make his way to get to the shard. There, they were met by a handful of men-at-arms - young boys which marth had learnt earlier were forester's sons, and so were familiar with the basics of hunting and stealth. With this handful of extra manpower, Marth gave chase, hoping to time the vice-trap right - catching Borza and his men between two forces with no chance of escape.

Finally, he heard agitated shouting ahead. One voice was Martin's - it was calmer, so the fighting probably hadn't begun - and the other was the voice of the mercenaries' sergeant. Marth urges his companions on, and arrived just in time to see the scene unfolding.

"You don't move aside, we'll stick ya' and force ya' aside!" shouted a big man that had to be the leader of their mercenary unit. Even with his hood up, Borza was visibly annoyed, both by the situation and his companions. "What mr. Douglas here is trying to convey, paladin" - he spat it like an insult - "Is that you are currently standing between us and our destination, and we would appreciate if we could move towards said destination without having to resort to base force." Martin stood in place, defiant - and on foot, as the terrain was too cramped for horses. His blade was already drawn.

"I am fairly confident we're both well aware that I cannot allow you to access that artifact," he began, his men-at-arms in a compact, well-rehearsed fighting formation. From the looks on their faces, they were either veterans, or inspired by the veterans in their unit - no man was flinching. Martin was smirking, his eyes locked with Borza's. "And we have you surrounded. Give up now, and you'll be free to turn around and leave." Borza spun around, as well as a few of the mercenaries, and spotted Marth, Dalanesca, and the handful of soldiers they had with them. Marth's veins were glowing a bright blue, his hands clutching the Dragon Lance.

"Devil Eyes Borza. You are hunting an artifact, a Shard of Reaver. Reaver is violence incarnate, a demon existing only for bloodshed. He is also posessive, and cannot be allowed to acquire a new host. For this reason…" Marth entered battle stance, clearly not in the mood for negotiation. Perhaps a bold move, but with only a glance one could see the rallying effect it had on the soldiers - they went from defiant and determined to outright eager. "… You will surrender, or experience the searing wrath of the Dragon Lance up close."

With this, Borza narrowed his eyes. He then sighed, and threw up his hands in surrender - before immediately launching a black bolt of energy - aimed at Dalanesca. In one fluid movement, Marth brushed his thumb on the inscription of the Dragon Lance's shaft, re-activating it as the Guardian Dragon Lance, which sheathed the blade in light - and swept the blade in the path of the dark bolt, turning it, and sending it crashing into the hillside. The mercenaries let out a cry and rushed - half rushed Martin and his companions, which left Martin with advantage in numbers as well as skill and equipment - but the other half rushed towards Marth and Dalanesca, leaving them severely outnumbered.

Marth's eyes opened wide, and his eyes visibly darkened with violent intent. "So be it."

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Sat May 21, 2016 10:36 AM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

Dalanesca opened her mouth to ask what Marth was laughing at when she was cut off as he mentioned payback and gifted her with a quick kiss. She took it as his way of explaining that he was in agreement with her on some of the thoughts, without actually saying so. When he pulled away, she stood still for a moment, not necessarily in shock but more in a way to process what had just taken place. She could see that Marth was smiling, and in turn couldn't help a bit of a grin from forming on her lips. 

The mention that he had been thinking the same as she had for a while gave a leap of hope in her stomach, though her expression did not give such away. The look on his face showed that he was most certainly not upset with the situation, and she nodded in agreement that they would discuss things further when time allowed. 

“Sounds like a plan,” she said, and finished hooking up her armaments. She stepped towards the door and pulled it open. Just as she was about to step out, she turned back to him. “You're brave… Getting payback on a goddess? Must be pretty faithful that she'll not reprimand you for that,” she said, a devious grin on her face. When she turned to walk out, the from morphed into a full blown smile, and she felt a huge surge of weight being lifted off her shoulders. She stopped outside the door, awaiting Marth to join her. 

Author: Marth, Posted: Sat May 21, 2016 9:30 AM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

As Marth finished kitting up, he listened to Dalanesca's explanation about the night before. It wasn't nothing, she readily admits to that. His pace slowed down a bit as she explained how she had acted stupidly, about how the entire event had unraveled to put the operation at risk - and how she admitted that she'd felt the urge to do so before. Marth, upon this little revelation, had just finished cleaning the Dragon Lance - and he went up to Dalanesca, composed as can be.

"So you did what you did because you wanted to." Marth looked on the floor, and gave a brief chuckle. Then he laughed aloud, the seriousness and tension he'd felt about the situation vanishing. "Don't be sorry, Dalanesca. You've given me the right to payback." He put his finger under her chin and gave her a quick kiss - nothing too long or meaningful. He held it for roughly a second, before breaking it and looking back at her with a smile.

"I've wanted to for some time, as well. Now, I think, we should be more or less on the same page." He looked at Dalanesca with a sly - and it should be noted, determined - grin, flicking his head in a gesture towards the door. "So now we don't have to worry about it. It'll be waiting for when we have the time. So, what do you say we get back to the matter at hand and find that shard, hm?"

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Sat May 21, 2016 9:14 AM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

She was halfway through buckling her chest plate, having already pulled on her reinforced leggings, when Marth spoke up, addressing the previous evening’s events. She didn't respond for a moment, only giving him a sideways glance as she fastened the stays of her chest plate. She was unsure how to discuss the situation without further complicating things between the two of them. Her gaze lingered to his scarred chest once more, before she turned away completely to finish putting her armor on, pulling the harness over her head so she could attach the sheaths and what not that she needed to carry with her. 

She sat on a chair turned to have her back to him, twisting her hair into a long braid. As she wove the plait, she turned her head a bit to look at him once more, seeing that he had now gotten his robes on, deceptively hiding the muscles she had seen first hand. “I never said it was nothing,” she said quietly, her emotional confusion quite apparent in her voice. “Nor did I have any intention to give you that impression.”  She fell silent again. Though she was mildly uncomfortable given the situation, she was glad that Marth had brought it up. It was probably best that they at least mildly discussed the situation before beginning their day’s journey - it was going to require them to be in the highest of focus. 

After a moment she spoke again, turning sideways in her chair to face him as she tied a piece of leather around her hair to keep the braid in place. Though Marth had said perhaps they should not think on it, she knew that it had to be at least partially discussed before they left. “I shouldn't have done that,” she said apologetically as she reached for her scarf. She held it in her hands for a moment, looking down at it. “Not because I didn't want to, but because of this, because it's distracting from the task at hand,” she said, glancing back up at him. The look on her eyes supported her statement. “That's why I did that. I got caught up in the whole facade and I took advantage of the situation and I did something selfish because I wanted to, and it's not fair to you,” she added. 

“The truth of the matter is, Marth, that it wasn't the first time I thought of that,” she admitted. “It's just the first time I acted on it. I want to blame it on this bond that we have, this divine connection that seems to have been contrived between the two of us… But it was there, at least somewhat, before that.”  She let out a sigh and stood up, walking to retrieve her blades and place them in their sheathes. “And this is why I never brought it up. I acted on it - stupidly, might I add - and now it's caused a problem.”  

She paused, her brow furrowed as she glanced over her shoulder at him while he cleaned the Dragon Lance. “I'm sorry,” she said quietly, turning back to finish sheathing her weapons, feeling uneasy about the situation as a whole. She had either started things on the mend, or possibly made them much, much worse. 

Author: Marth, Posted: Sat May 21, 2016 8:15 AM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

Marth woke up as Dalanesca shook his shoulder, blinking for a few seconds before sitting straight up. The tumbler of water was within reach from his sitting position, so he splashed some in his face and took a quick wash. As he was rubbing himself down with a small cake of soap, he spoke to Dalanesca - addressing the proverbial elephant in the room.

"What happened last night and how… I'll be fine with leaving it at that. It wasn't nothing - I'm not an idiot - but we needn't think of it right now." He got up and dried himself off (magically) and went over to his equipment, beginning the arm-up process. "But the last thing we should do is stop talking." He paused for a moment, looking down the scar-riddled ruin that used to be a relatively pristine torso. "So if there are any questions, or statements, you'd like to present… I think now is a good time." He put on his robe and turned to Dalanesca, buckling up his belt and packing his belongings.

However his companion would choose to respond, Marth spent the next few minutes listening and adjusting his armour. With robe and armour in place, he no longer looked as big as he did naked, though surely some things could not be unseen - the way his robes folded around his muscles, the size and strap adjustment of his plates… On closer inspection, his robes probably carried a minor enchantment to make him look less imposing, but once you knew, it could be easily spotted. The last thing Marth did before being ready to travel was clean the blade of the Dragon Lance, of course using fire as opposed to cloth.

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Fri May 20, 2016 7:30 PM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

When Marth accepted her literal invitation to share her bed, she felt her body tense up.  She was not necessarily nervous about it, but she was uncertain about where the two stood given the events that had happened downstairs.  She hadn’t necessarily meant to kiss him - it was something that had just happened, and now she was beginning to regret it.  She didn’t necessarily regret the actual action of it happening, but rather the circumstances in which it had happened.  The feelings she had held toward Marth had been confusing, especially since her revelation of power to him.  She did not know if the feeling stemmed from their divine bond, or from something else - and her actions now had certainly not helped that confusion.

She could hear Marth undressing, and unconsciously half-rolled over to glance at him.  He hadn’t seemed to notice her, and she fought to stifle a gasp as she took in the sight of him.  He was much more toned and muscular than she had imagined him to be - but that, as much as she enjoyed it, was not what had caused her surprise.  The gasp she had hidden was due to the many scars and burns that flecked his skin.  She knew that now was not the time for her to ask him about them, as he did not even know she was seeing him currently.  Seeing the chunk missing from his chest, her mind immediately drifted to the wound on her own chest, and to Reaver.

  When he turned to hang up his robes, she continued to look at him long enough to take in the markings and tattoos on his back, which made it quite obvious that this had been his way of life for many years.  She noted the crossed out words on his back, wondering if those, too, were a result of Reaver.  

She rolled back over, her back completely to Marth, and closed her eyes.  She could hear him milling about, organizing his belongings, and began to slowly drift off to sleep, the night’s events playing through in her mind.  WIth a heart full of confusion, she drifted off, breathing deeply by the time Marth climbed into the bed next to her.

—-

Dalanesca blinked slowly, her mind focusing in on consciousness.  She had clearly forgotten to draw the shades the night before, because the sun shone brightly through the windows in the morning.  Marth’s back was to her - very close to her - and at some point in the night she had rolled over and curled up fairly close to him.  One of her arms was stretched out above her head, her fingertips barely brushing Marth’s hair. 

Slowly, she pushed herself away from him, being careful so as not to disturb him from his sleep.  The light that cast through the window indicated to her that it was still fairly early,  and she had gone to sleep earlier than him the night before.  She managed to get out of bed without rousing him, and padded towards the table that she had laid her belongings on.  She quietly pulled her leggings on, not bothering with the armor yet.  She opened the door, and as was custom of these types of inns, a tray with a pitcher of water and a few stone tumblers as well as bread and fruit had been set outside the door not long ago.  She picked it up and brought it back in, setting it on the table.  

She poured herself a bit of the water and sat in the chair, taking a sip, and thinking back on the night before.  What had she been thinking?  She had been distracted from the fact that she was acting when he had begun to play along - what had she expected was going to happen?  He was highly intelligent - of course he was going to realize that he needed to play along in order for the charade to work.  She had made the mistake of allowing her emotions to take over her mind, and in that time she very well could have ruined a trust that was necessary for the bond the two needed to keep strong.

She poured water into the other tumbler, and looked out the window.  It seemed that it would be a good enough time now for Marth to be awoken, and she stood with the tumbler in hand and padded, barefoot, across the floor to his side of the bed. From where she stood, she could see the scars and marks on his chest.  She studied them for a moment, deciding that at a later time, she would ask him about them.  She crouched down next to him, her hair still quite messy from sleeping with pieces of it falling in her face, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, lightly shaking him.  “Marth,” she said quietly.  “Time to wake, I think we need to see about getting moving,” she said, and placed the stone tumbler on the table next to the bed.  “Got some water for you, I’ll leave it here,” she said, and stood up, walking back to the table, intent on re-armoring herself now that she had taken the first steps to wake him up and did not need to worry about being quiet any longer.

Author: Marth, Posted: Fri May 20, 2016 6:14 PM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

As Dalanesca kissed him, Marth failed to hide his astonishment. It was lucky that he sat in a dark corner, for his cheeks were the colour of fresh lobster as well, and it took him a few minutes to recover from the shock. His chest was pounding as he watched Dalanesca go to the bar and procure some keys. His astonishment was completed when Dalanesca later flashed him an annoyed expression, as if Marth had somehow done something wrong. You kissed me, I was just playing along!

Marth tried to keep a composed expression as Dalanesca finished her interaction with Borza and his cronies, and succeeded only partially. He managed to see, however, that Borza had become suitably suspicious. As Dalanesca returned to him, he nodded at her, got up, and followed her into their second floor room. "Oh, that's, uh… Fine," he said, going a little stiff with tension.

As they entered the room, the potential for hinky situations only increased, as there was only one large bed in the room. Realising that sleeping in this room - which offered no options for individual privacy - together with Dalanesca was inevitable, Marth resigned to his fate and steered his thoughts back on the mission. "Yes, an early start would be for the best," he conceded, drawing up some parchment, a pen, and an inkwell from his travel supplies - getting to work on making a rough copy of the map Dalanesca had shown him while she undressed. As she apologized, Marth felt a little pang, but decided not to let it show. "No need to apologise - really." It only took him a few moments to replicate the most important aspects of the map, after which he decided to rid himself of his heaviest gear - his new plates.

As she offered Marth the other side of the bed, he hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, that seems reasonable. We'd better be well rested, the both of us." He proceeded to ditch his robes, revealing for the first time since his exorcism - to anyone - his torso.

His arms were heavy-set, far thicker with muscle than what the robes he wore would indicate. He also had a respectable eight-pack, a set of abdominal muscles long, lean, and strong, betraying how agile the man must truly be. His shoulders were large and his neck thicker than it appeared through the collar of the robes, and his chest was wide. All of these features, however, paled in comparison with the story his skin told.

Across his chest and arms were scars - small burns and clean, old combat scars told of a story of hard, and occasionally even deadly practise and combat. A long, thin scar across his chest showed signs of invasive surgery, a wound taken in battle - and it was fifteen years old, making Marth roughly twenty when he got it. However, there were also many scars on Marth's belly and around his nipples - fresher by far, and not nearly as neatly treated. By all appearances, these scars ranged from a year or two old to mere months old, and they all appeared to be self-inflicted. Many of the wounds the scars originated from appeared as though they had been infected, and a chunk of flesh was missing from his left pectoral muscle, as though Marth had been mauled by a beast with sharp claws.

As Marth turned around to hang up his robes, his skin told yet another story, this time in the form of a tattoo that covered his entire back. Along his spine was an old tattoo of the Dragon Lance - Marth couldn't have been older than twenty when he got it. Slightly younger were a pair of dragon's wings sprouting from the spearhead, the skin of the wings inscribed with text. The left side, over where his heart would be, the text was written in Wyllmochvarian, but the translation in the common tongue was written on the right wing. For Republic and People, a Man lives to serve - bound by Duty and burdened with the Virtues of Power, Knowledge, Wisdom, and Honour. It is the duty, then, of the Explorer, to stop at nothing in the search for the means by which he can Protect and Enlighten his Countrymen, for in Greatness lies the Salvation of the Motherland, bought with the Blood and Glory of its people.

The words 'wisdom' and 'honour' were crossed out with scars that could not be more than a few weeks old. The equivalent words on the Wyllmochvarian side were similarily scarred over, in what could only be interpreted as a concious disdain for what those words, in that setting, represented.

On each side of the spear, below the wings, were a pair of images in duality - on his left side was the image of a scholar, teaching his students, holding in his hands a book opened for all to see. The class was sitting in a courtyard, not unlike the one in the Blinded Scales, made of stone and brilliant in its construction. On the right side of the spear was the same scholar, but with the book closed and clutched to his chest with one hand, holding a whip in the other. The students in this image were slaves, toling away in a courtyard ruined by corruption and neglect. This was the newest ink - barely a few years old and clearly drawn when marth was older and more wizened. Below was a banner, written entirely in the common tongue of Canelux: Knowledge shared is a nation strengthened - Knowledge withheld is individual tyranny.

After haging up his robe and organizing his belongings on the vanity (which took about a minute) Marth took off his boots and socks, and headed towards the bed, sitting down. He looked back at the woman who had so thuroughly balanced and unhinged him, and she appeared to be asleep. Marth's gut was crawling with butterflies, a sensation he hadn't experienced in over a decade. Confused, tried, and with emotions waging war on him, Marth sighed deeply, and lied down in bed - his past and present predicaments vying for domination of his thoughts.

And then quietly cried himself to sleep.

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Fri May 20, 2016 3:58 PM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

She felt a sense of relief as Marth seemed to accept her ‘advances,’ if one could call them that, though they were feigned, in part.  She had put herself into a position where it is necessary for her to act in this way, but truth be told it was a bit easier for her to do it than it needed to be.  She let out a playful yelp as he pulled her further into lap, clearly over dramatizing the situation - though it did take her by surprise a bit.  She glanced back to the group of men, where she could see the one who had introduced himself to her as Borza was watching her with displeasure on his face, clearly at the fact that it seemed he would not be getting his plaything for the evening.

Turning back to Marth, she kept her face close to his as he was talking, her expressions not necessarily matching what he was saying to her, though she knew he would understand why.  Borza and his men still eyed them occasionally, hence the need for the continued charade.  “And I was looking forward to a fun evening,” she quipped, with a pout, though it was quite clear she was in jest.  She made a sound of disgust, though her face still showed amusement.  “That bastard I pulled the knife on most definitely would have had his way with me,” she said.  Her face took on a moment of rage, though it faded quickly, shifting back into the playful expression she had been feigning.  

She listened carefully to Marth’s plan, nodding in agreement with her companion.  It would work.  She would procure a room from the barkeep, at which point she would head back over to the group of men, give them the map back, and keep up the charade that she would be spending the evening with Marth.  

“It sounds like it will work well,” she said, leaning closer to him as his hand came to rest on her thigh, giving the illusion that she was nuzzling his neck.  “I’ll see about getting us some rooms when I go to return the map,” she added, before pulling back away from him.  Before she stood, she leaned forward, her chest pressed up against his, and pushed her lips against his in a quick kiss, meant to look teasing in nature.  When she pulled back, she locked her gaze with his own for a brief moment, realizing full well that she hadn’t really needed to go that far.  “Okay, on with it then” she said, quickly getting up off of his lap as though she had been reprimanded, and she quickly walked away without saying anything else.

She walked to the barkeep for a moment, having an inaudible conversation with him, which ended with her fishing some silver out of the satchel attached to her armor and laying them on the counter, and a set of keys being passed across to her. She looked mildly annoyed when she glanced back at Marth, but instead of heading back to him, she tucked the keys into her belt and made her way back over to the men.  Borza stepped forward and addressed her.

“M’lady, I realized I’d never gotten your name,” he said, with a deep grin.  Dalanesca flashed him a quick smile, before making a bit of a pouting face.  “I’m so sorry,” she said.  “My commander’s not going to let me go, not tonight,” she said, her cheeks flushing, and she shot a glance over her shoulder at Marth.  “Say’s I’m all his and he’s not going to share.”

Borza made a bit of a face, but then offered her another smile.  “A shame, dear, but at least you’re a good woman who listens to what she is told,” he added.  She feigned a smile, but felt a brief moment of murderous rage towards him.  “Sorry,” she said, and turned to walk away.

She paused, turning back around suddenly.  “Oh, Borza!” she said, rushing back over.  “I almost forgot.  Um, during that.. Little altercation earlier,” she began, fumbling in her pockets.  “I grabbed this off the floor.  I, uh… I thought I had dropped it,” she said, purposely sounding a bit nervous.  “Turns out, it’s not mine.  Must belong to one of your men,” she said, handing the map to him.  Borza eyed the map, and narrowed his eyes at her.  “I see,” he said.  He opened his mouth to speak once more, but Dalanesca had already begun to walk back to Marth. 

She arrived back near Marth, still where she had placed him earlier.  “Come on, we’re on the second floor,” she said.  Assuming he followed her, she headed up the stairs to the room the barkeep had told her was available for her.

“Slight problem,” she said, turning to Marth but avoiding eye contact with him when they were outside the room.  “The rest of the men snapped up the majority of the room, so we’ve got to share.  Guess it’ll keep up the charade,” she said, with a nervous laugh as she unlocked the door. Upon entering, she frowned.  She had been hopeful that the barkeep would have given her a room with two beds when she had mentioned it was for her and her commander… but apparently he too had seen the ‘show’ she had been putting on.  The room had only one large bed, a sofa, and a table and chair.  

She stepped inside along with Marth and looked at him.  “It’ll do,” she said.  It was inevitable that the two would end up sharing quarters at some point in their journey together - she just was hoping it would not have been the same night she had to put on such a ruse as she had earlier.  She paused when she entered, contemplating how best to keep privacy in close quarters, realizing it just was not going to happen.

“I suppose you’ll want to get going early,” she said, still not looking at Marth.  She undid the harness on her armor and pulled it off, laying it across the table.  “And sorry,” she added.  “About earlier, I mean,” she continued, in reference to the little act she had put on - particularly in how it ended.

Her back to him, she undid the stays on the sides of her chest plate and pulled that off as well, followed shortly by the reinforced leggings.  Now in her attire of a tunic and loose leggings, she seemed to be checking the wound on her chest.  She let out a bit of a hiss as the area was still a bit sore, and turned back to Marth.

“I’ll take the bed, if that’s okay?” she said.  “Or the sofa, or whatever,” she said.  She glanced at the bed, feeling considerably awkward.  “No, my chest hurts.  I’m taking the bed,” she said, giving him a grin.  She stepped over to it and peeled off her leggings, her tunic coming down to cover her about mid thigh.  She peeled back the blanket on the bed and climbed in, pulling it back over her.  Lying on her side, her back to Marth, she lay in quiet contemplation for a moment.  Eventually, she rolled over, looking as though he was removing the plate armor he had on.  “The bed’s quite comfortable,” she said, and glanced at the unoccupied side.  “It’s plenty big, too.  You may as well use the other side, no sense in you being stiff from sleeping on a sofa.  Won’t be much use if it comes to battle, will you?” she asked, and rolled over with her back to the empty space of the bed, no longer facing Marth, content to get a bit of rest, no matter how the situation ended.

Author: Marth, Posted: Fri May 20, 2016 2:25 PM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

Marth seated himself somewhere inconspicous (which meant out of the way but not in the shadows) and watched as Dalanesca went to work. The way she twirled the men of the house around her finger was impressive, but Marth found himself aggrevated at the same time, for reasons unknown.  He watched his companion's exchange with the first man, who had apparently mistaken her for a wench of sorts, and was ready to spring into action as the situation got tense - however, she seemed to have a handle on the situation, so Marth stayed put.

Her exchange with the second character - which Marth immediately flagged as a mage - seemed civil. It was fairly predictable - mages in general arn't known for their lust for senseless violence, after all - but Marth was ready to spring into action even then, as powerful mages were typically rather intelligent. If Dalanesca was made, Marth would have to spring into action - she may have been a godess, but it wouldn't do to have that fact revealed yet. It did, however, not prove necessary - after a few words, Dalanesca approached Marth, grabbed him, and pulled him into one of the darker corners of the room.

As she sat on his lap, marth perked an eyebrow - and couldn't help but crack a smile. He made a point of returning her 'affections', as they were, barely resisting the temptation to cop a feel. Most of such urges were washed away, however, as Dalanesca mentioned Borza. "There can be no doubt, then. That's our man." He subtly checked the offered parchment, memorizing coordinates, terrain, and legend detailed on the map. He looked up as Dalanesca continued talking, resuming the charade of a lecherous battlemage.

As Dalanesca further detailed what she had said to Borza and the nature of their supposed relationship, he stifled a chuckle himself. "Yeah, I figured something along those lines," he said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her further up his lap - in part for effect, in part because he felt like it. He kept her close, thinking about the situation, trying to appear more lecherous than affectionate - with limited success.

"Alright," he said, "Here's our next move." He hesitated for a moment, playing out the possible scenarios - before deciding to himself that his plan would be the best. "We hole up here for the night. Naturally, we won't be sending you over for those men's pleasure, so we'll have to keep up the charade, for now." He looked over at the gang, reflecting.

"What we'll do right now is spook them. Go back, and hand the parchment back. Make a point of making an excuse which is only half believable - force their hand. They won't want to make a ruckus here, so they'll likely pack up and leave. We'll stay in pursuit, and I'll send Martin away to approach the location by another route - his regulars should make better time and have more freedom of movement than Borza and his mercenaries." He looked back at Dalanesca, his gaze steel. "Their approach would take them through marshlands, riddled with small perils. Our approach would be through a valley further to the north - longer, but safer and easier to traverse. Borza won't take this route - he won't risk passing a monastery if he can move without raising flags."

Marth throught for a while longer, recalculating all his choices to make doubly sure his plan was sound. "With a little luck, Martin should reach the general area at the same time as Borza, but fresher. When that time comes, we can trap them in a vice, once we can ascertain the shard's location." Marth clenched his fist, reassuring himself that his plan was indeed viable. "What do you think, Dalanesca?" he asked, uncounciously placing a hand on her thigh.

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Fri May 20, 2016 1:18 PM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

The trip to their destination did not take too long - only a few days.  Dalanesca was happy to spend the nights they set up camp speaking with Marth on a few things, talking through things that confused her about her new status, and just generally conversing with him.  It helped to pass the time, and she found herself catching a bit more sleep than she anticipated she would.  The trip ended up being a bit more relaxing than she was hoping it would be, and that was beneficial for her.  By the time they had reached their destination - crossroad with a sort of trade caravan set up, along with a building which identified itself as the Highborn Ogre - she was in high spirits, but she also found herself quite grateful that their destination had brought her to a place where she could (hopefully) find a glass of whiskey.  The events of the previous days had been trying on her, and she had found herself truly wishing for a drink.

She dismounted from her horse after Marth did, having understood the general idea of the plan.  She was going to make herself useful - she had years of experience at getting information out of people without having to ask for it.  As he gave the nod which she took as a signal, she pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the tavern.

Upon entering, she found herself slightly confused at the state of the place.  The building stood at three stories, such she could tell not only from the view outside but as well as the balconies inside.  The noise was loud but not overbearing - and on the second and third floor balconies she could see whores - who seemed to range from proper to questionable - milling about with their patrons, both ladies and gentleman.  She quirked an eyebrow and glanced sideways at Marth, stifling a bit of a laugh.  

The place seemed clean enough, so to speak.  The only dingy places seemed to be the back corners, where a couple of shady looking folks had camped out.  She moved a bit closer to Marth, placing her mouth near his ear to speak at a volume only he could hear.  “I’ll see what I can find out,” she said, and with those words sauntered off to the bar.  

As she walked, she unraveled her scarf from about her neck, tying it to one of the stays on her armor’s harness.  Her hair, which she had tied up with some leather straps, was loosened from its hold and fell in waves around her shoulders.  It was clear with her walk and the minor alterations that she made to her appearance that she was reverting to the methods she used to use when she used to gather information about the targets in her contracts.  

She slid onto a stool at the main bar, not far from a group of odd looking men gathered around one another.  They seemed to be discussing something important, so it seemed as good a place as any to start.  She looked to the selection at the bar, finding it a bit odd. Ales from the North, wines from the South, and everything in between.  She ordered a whiskey, paying the barkeep for it immediately. 

She sat quietly, listening to the men near her.  After time enough of listening, she had most definitely heard ‘Borza’ muttered in hushed tones.  The man closest to her folded a slip of parchment resembling a map and tucked it into his pocket.  She could not make out other words very well - they were doing a wonderful job of keeping quiet.  They went silent soon, just as soon as she had drained her glass of whiskey.  She was about to get up from her seat and find a different location to sit, when the man closest to her had stood and walked towards her.  

“You look like you are in need of another drink.”  She looked up at the man who had approached her.  He was dressed in what looked to be fairly expensive clothing with a heavy bit of gold around his neck.  Dalanesca immediately forced a sly grin to her face, something that she had perfected doing, and feigned interest in the man. 

“You might be right,” she said, with a bit of a smile.  “I just can’t believe how quickly I drank that first one!  All that time on the road and it goes straight to your head, yeah?” she said.  The man said nothing to her, only reaching out to run his hand through her hair.  She shied away a bit, not having been ready for that exact reaction, but kept up the guise of interest. 

“I’ll get you that refill, but it’ll cost you,” he said, the pleasant tones of his voice completely gone now.  He began to reach toward the stay on the side of her armor, but at that moment she had decided it had gone to far and swiftly pulled a dagger from its sheath, pouncing forward onto the man.  Though she was small, some of her divine strength had came through and she had the man pinned to the bar, her dagger to his throat.  As she did so, feigning that she was keeping him down with her forearm across her waist, she slipped her hand unnoticed into his pocket and fished out the piece of parchment he had shoved in his pocket.  

“You don’t touch a lady without her permission,” she said, her voice above a hiss. The man sputtered a bit, in an attempt to get away from her, but she only pressed the blade closer to his skin. 

“My apologies, m’lady,” came a voice from behind her.  She did not remove the pressure from the blade held to the other man’s throat, but turned her head to look at the source of the voice.  A man stood behind her, tall, with dark skin.  He was clad in dark robes, and she could sense power - dark power - emanating off of him.  “I find this man to be wholly unpleasant,” he said, in reference to the man that she had pinned.  “However, he’s been of assistance to me as of late.  Been helping me get from place to place, so to speak.”  He grew silent for a moment, and Dalanesca did not falter - a bead of blood now sprung up from beneath the blade she held to her assailant’s neck. “Might I politely ask you to release him?”

She stared at him for a moment, before pulling the blade away and standing up slowly, stashing the parchment away as she sheathed her dagger.  “Fine,” she said, stepping back.  “Teach him some proper manners, or next his hands’ll be off his body,” she said.  

The man bowed his head.  “Thank you, m’lady,” he said.  “Let me buy you a drink to repent for this atrocity,” he said.  She nodded, and the barkeep who had been standing by leapt forward to pour her another whiskey.  She took it, and nodded to the man in thanks.

“Now, m’lady, let me tell you - if you are looking for a night of relaxation in the company of proper men, we can offer that to you.  I am Borza, Devil Eyes, my friends call me.”  Dalanesca hid the alarm that sounded in her mind, instead taking a step back.  “Join us for a meal, and we’ll not trouble you for more than your company.”

She eyed him for a moment.  “Sounds pleasant,” she said, draining the whiskey in one long gulp.  “Only I’m travelling with a noblemen.  Sellsword, and all,” she said, shrugging with a bit of a smile.  “My commander’s over there, let me see if I’m allowed away from the company,” she said.  “He usually uses me for his… entertainment, I guess you can call it.  I’ll need his permission,” she added.  Borza gave her a smile. “We await your return,” he said, turning back to his men.

She stood to walk to Marth, checking over her shoulder that the men were not looking after her.  When she was sure that they were not paying attention, she grabbed his arm and pulled him into one of the darker corners.  She pushed him down into one of the chairs, sitting herself on his lap - all to keep up the charade that she had set for the men.  “Just listen,” she hissed, leaning close to his ear.  “I’ll explain this to you later, but I need things to look this way right now.”  Without waiting for him to reply to her very vague reason, she continued to speak.  “That man over there, the tall dark skinned one?  That’s Borza.  Told me himself.  Even said his friends call him ‘Devil Eyes,’” she added.  She pressed the parchment into Marth’s palm.  “Got this off the one I pulled a knife on,” she said.  “Looks to be a map, assuming it’s to where they’re headed next,” she added. 

She paused, before continuing with a bit more explanation.  “He asked me to join them for the evening… I told them I needed my commander’s permission as I usually entertained him at night,” she said, stifling a laugh.  “It worked in the old days, figured it might still work now,” she said, reaching up and running a hand down the side of his face, for added effect.  “So I’m sorry.  But… what’s our next move?” she asked.  Now that they had the location of Borza, which had been much easier than she assumed it would be, she knew it was up to Marth to get the location of the shard.

Author: Marth, Posted: Fri May 20, 2016 3:08 AM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

Marth smiled and took a drink of the offered canteen, thinking about Dalanesca's words. "Well," he began, "we know more or less where he'll be located, and none of these men are scouts. Frankly, I was going to keep us on the march, keeping up the appearance that a noble is travelling with his bodyguard, and his hirelings, associates, or whatever we'll pretend to be, have business of their own along the way. Then, once Borza has been located, we'll use our manpower to cut off his movements and move in for an arrest." He handed the canteen back, nodding at Dalanesca. "This means I'll go around pretending to be a power-hungry mage while you can act as a spy. If there's correspondence that needs stealing, I'll leave that to you, as well."

Just as he said that, the party passed the gates to the town, and Marth led the party along what appeared to be a southbound merchant's road. at that point, martin approached the two - a dashing knight in shiny armour and a thuroughly thrilled expression. "Ah, it feels good to be demon-hunting again! So, master Coralax. What's your plan?" Marth nodded at Martin, and gave him the brief synopsis. "You'll be the adventrueglad lordling, and Dalanesca and I will be your hirelings, with our own shady dealings along the way. When the time comes, I'll appropriate your troops and make my move." Martin thought about the prospect for a second, and finally nodded. "Sounds reasonable. And believable. High-end mercenaries, I think, is what we'll pass you off as being." Marth nodded, and kept on the march.

---

The party kept walking for a few days. These days were mostly spent chatting, plotting, camping, and singing. Despite rationing of supplies and long days of marching, Marth managed to keep spirits in the party high, through lenient treatment of the troops' concerns, and personal and diplomatic interference with any conflicts that arose among the men-at-arms. As they made camp each evening, Marth made sure to set aside some time to talk to Dalanesca, and provide any counsel she needed. During the march, marth displayed very few symptoms, if any, of his mental affliction. Whether this was by the grace of Dalanesca's divine powers, her friendship with Marth, or Marth's 'at-home-ness' with military command was difficult to say.

---

After four days, the party finally arrived where they needed to be. It was a crossroads, at which a small trading station had popped up. There were stalls laden with trade goods such as silk bolts and hides, a supply station selling rations and water by the barrel, and a tavern - the Highborn Ogre. Marth pulled up the rough letter he had shown Dalanesca immediately after he met her - not even a fortnight ago, yet it felt so distant - and confirmed that this was the right place. He looked at Dalanesca, then addressed the men-at-arms.

"You gentlemen hold up here for a moment, please. I have a matter I'd like to attend to before we press on." The men, including Martin, replied exactly as rehearsed. "Take your time, Dragon Lance. I believe I shall have a look at the stalls, see if perhaps I can find something to my liking." Sergeant McConroy addressed the men. "Well, men, let's not clog up the crossroads! Get off the road, and grab some food and drink while you have the opportunity!" About two thirds of the men complied - getting behind the tavern, camping outside its back and side exits. Meanwhile, another group of men, led by martin, feigned interest in a few baubles just outside the main entrance to the tavern, thus covering the building in its entirety. Marth nodded at Dalanesca, dismounted, and went towards the door.

"Showtime."

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Thu May 19, 2016 1:24 PM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

When Marth’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, she jumped ever so slightly, having been off in another realm of thought when he had come into contact with her.  She turned, matching his smile, though hers did not morph from anything but downtrodden.  “I’m fine,” she said, though her demeanor and her tone of voice gave away that she was indeed not fine.  “It’s just a lot,” she said.  “I know, I’m supposed to be strong, chosen, able to handle this… but I didn’t even have a choice,r really, did I?” she asked, with a sigh.  She listened as Marth explained the trouble he had gone through harnessing his abilities, and couldn’t help but let out a bit of a laugh.  It was nice to hear that she wasn’t the only person who had struggled with something, though she did sense that her particular situation was a bit unique compared to some.

She couldn’t help but smile as he patted her, the physical contact from him welcome and comforting.  She looked at Marth, standing proudly before her, and saw him in a different light than she had so far on their journey.  At the start of their journey together not all that long ago, she had viewed him as a work associate, an employer, perhaps a distant friend - but now, she saw him as her companion and close friend.  Rolling her eyes slightly as he mentioned causing her power to bend to her, she could not help but make a joke.  “I’ll get right on that,” she said, ducking slightly as ruffled her hair.  “Watch that, I’ve got appearances to keep up!” she said, playfully swatting his hand away and flattening her hair, but once again welcoming the contact.

–

She followed Marth outside the keep where they encountered Martin, looking mighty regal upon his steed.  His armor shone brilliantly in the daylight, and she noticed that it highly resembled some of the things that she and Marth had seen in the armory.  Upon Martin’s greeting, she bowed her head respectfully in acknowledgement.

Uncharacteristically, Dalanesca took a reproachful step back as a squire approached with a horse for her.  The steed was jet black from head to tail, a color that pleased her - but she had never been a fan of horses.  They had always made her uneasy, and a feeling of dread always filled her when she was near one.  The familiar sense of dread hadn’t accompanied the horse’s appearance this time, but the step away had been instinctive for her.  She glanced at Marth, who was already atop his own mount, and stepped towards hers, sucking in a breath and mentally preparing herself.

The horse seemed a bit eager, but to Dalanesca’s surprise, the moment she laid her hand on the horse, it calmed, standing still awaiting her to mount it.  She looked pleased with herself for a moment, before preparing to mount the horse.  She climbed up and slung a leg over to the other side, feeling much more comfortable than she could recall every feeling atop an animal such as this.

She and the steed trotted a few steps towards Marth and Martin, who were in conversation.  She stopped a bit behind and to the side of Marth, not wanting to be rude.  When Martin acknowledged her, however, she had the horse take a few paces forward so she was eveningly alongside Marth.  “Yes, Marth found it for me.  It fit well, I just had to adjust the chestplate a bit,” she added, with a smile.  “Thank you so much for allowing me use of your equipment,” she said, nodding to him in respect.  “I plan to do everything in my power to assist the Fraternity.”  When Martin mentioned her looking well, she cast her eyes to the side, a bit of a blush coming to her cheeks.  For the time being she was quite glad that, although the pressure from the chest plate was mildly painful on the wound on her chest, it could not be seen beneath her armor.  “Yes, a good night’s sleep can be quite remedial,” she lied, though her voice was completely even and did not give a thing away.  When Martin had looked away, she shot Marth a sideways glance and a wink with a sly grin.  

She kept beside Marth, choosing to stay silent through the mission briefing for the men-at-arms that Martin had provided.  Upon mention from Martin, she gave an acknowledging nod to the men, pleasantly surprised by the lack of remark from them at mention of a woman holding authority over them.  It was something she had been quite used to, especially in her days as an assassin.  Many a man had laughed at her, expecting that a woman would not be capable of a man’s job.  Most of those who had laughed had learned their lessons - except for one, who had a repeat offense, and had lost his tongue.  Dalanesca knew she was capable of many things, and did not much care for being underestimated.

She stood idly by while Marth directly addressed the troops, a small smile on her face.  He seemed so in place with commanding the troops.  As he introduced himself and gave his former title, she thought quietly to herself an addition to his title - ‘Redeemer and Destroyer,’ echoed in her mind.  She had to admit, she quite liked Marth’s that his two inner selves had proclaimed him to be.  It was entirely fitting.

When he set the troops off, she held her horse to fall into step beside his own, looking over at him.  “Quite the speech you’ve given,” she said, with a smile.  “You seem at home, commanding the men.  You must have been a great Captain,” she added.  The pride she held for him rang apparent in her voice.  “I think I’ve made a good choice,” she added, just loudly enough for him to hear her.  She offered no more detail, but it should have been clear that she was referencing her decision to name him to such a high position in her realm.  


She allowed a few moments to pass in silence, before speaking to Marth once more.  “So, how’s this going to go down when we go there?” she asked, keen on finding out exactly what the plan was.  “Are we heading in as one large force, or are we splitting off to find this Borza?”  She would trust Marth’s judgement on whatever was the case, but she was hoping it would not separate her from him.  She was still a bit lost with all of the changes that had happened to her in such a short time, and being around Marth reminded her that she would be fine and would learn how to handle the power that came with it.  While she awaited his answer, she pulled her leather canteen from one of the hooks on her harness, taking a drink of the water it held before offering it to Marth, much like she had in the beginning of their journey.

Author: Marth, Posted: Thu May 19, 2016 11:53 AM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

Marth didn't take long a all to be done in the armoury - after all, he had most of the armour and weaponry he needed already. He adjusted the vambraces - engraved with the emblem of the Fellhunter Fraternity - and made a mental note to customize the straps to better fit his arms. He also grabbed a pair of half-leggings - shinguards and kneepads, connected by a silver bolt engraved with a holy sigil. They fit rather well over his trousers, and Marth liked the feeling of the medium-thick metal sheets protecting his legs. The vambraces wern't an encumbrance either, so Marth decided he was satisfied and went into the hall.

When he saw Dalanesca outside, his heart sank. Of course. She seemed as troubled as Marth felt, which, in hindsight, wasn't much of a surprise. Godess though she may be, she's still Dalanesca. This is news to her as well. He tentatively went over and put a hand on her shoulder, gripping it with a strong hand to give her a firm reminder where she was - and who was there with her.

"Keep it together, Dalanesca. When endowed with new abilities, the best course of action is to let them adapt to you - not the other way around." He gave her a half-sad smile, which slowly turned into a mischievous grin. "First time I spat fire, the hottest curry tasted like watery porridge for over a fortnight. And when I learned to bend thunder, I got shocks from any metal I touched for a month. Eventually, however, it all fell into place." He patted her gently. "And don't argue - while more powerful, I don't think your new gifts differ from magical affinity in that aspect. Besides…" He stood up straight, proud and tall, as befitted a man of his position - both battlemage and high priest. "If you're a godess, it is only fitting that your powers bend to you, and not the other way around." He ruffled her hair affectionately, letting her know he was still there for Dalanesca, the now-very-much-in-a-confusing-situation woman, as well as being there for the Justiciar.

---

After the pep talk, Marth accompanied Dalanesca to the barracks just outside of the keep. There, Martin sat tall atop his finest warhorse, a thuroughbred mare with more discipline and independent intelligence than any stallion could be counted on to posess. Martin himself was clad from his collar and down in demon-hunter plate, claymore slung across his back and lance in hand. The armour was radiant and laden with rich embellishment. In contrast, his men were in uniform drab armour - leather leggings with steel shinguards, unembellished cuirasses, halfhelms, kite shields, and longswords. Their shields carried the sigil of house du Reolar, but otherwise, they looked much like what they were - men-at-arms. Martin greeted Marth and Dalanesca as they approached the group.

"Hail, you two. I hope you're ready, for I sure am." He made a gesture and a young squire approached with horses, one each for Dalanesca and Marth. Marth took a few moments to familiarize himself with the horse and give it a treat, before swinging himself up on the saddle. As a result, his robe slid off his legs, revealing the fact that he'd helped himself to extra armour. Martin looked at him with a perked eyebrow.

"I thought battlemages preferred enchanted cloth over base metal, Captain Coralax." Marth dismissed the sentiment. "There are battlemages and battlemages, my lord. Most are simply mages with magic geared towards combat. I am a mage-warrior, who seek the perfect balance between offensive magic and skill at arms. Most of us prefer medium armour, like the partial plate I took the liberty of appropriating." To this, Martin gave a simple shrug. "Fair enough. It is your right, as a member of the Fraternity." He then looked at Dalanesca. "Ah, you found my great-aunt's old sabouteur's attire, I see! It suits you. Do good work alongside the fraternity, and you may earn the right to keep it. According to my father, my great-aunt willed it passed on in that manner." He smiled at Dalanesca, before noticing something. "You look… You look well, miss Dalanesca. I suppose a good night's sleep did wonders, eh?"

He chuckled, and addressed his men. "Listen up, soldiers! We are undertaking a mission on behalf of the fraternity. Captain marth Coralax will be de facto force commander for this mission. Defer to him for all commands and information. Also, miss Dalanesca is working alongside the Fraternity, so you may consider her a lieutenant for this assignment. Should you be cut off from any one of us, sergeant McConroy will be in charge until such a time you find either one of us. Understood?" The men replied by stomping once, in unison, and cry out 'Yes, milord!' before turning to face Marth.

Marth looked over the men, then at Dalanesca. Deciding they might as well begin their hunt for Devil Eyes Borza, he kept it brief. "We'll be marching hard, so do not concern yourself with formation. I suggest you leave your weapons with your pack animals. Get to work preparing, we're leaving in no more than one minute!" The men-at-arms immediately complied, double-timing to their ponies and loading up their shields and longswords. Many of them also elected to load their helmets, and all of them took shortswords and attatched them to their belts. In roughly fifty seconds, all soldiers were ready to march. Marth looked over the men, pleased. "Well done, gentlemen. My name is Marth Coralax, retired captain of the Wyllmochvarian Expeditionary Forces. I will learn all your names in turn, I am sure, but if that is so, let it be on the march! We go!" Marth pointed the Dragon Lance in the direction of the town gates, and took point. Martin, for the time being, seemed content to talk to the sergeant on the way down, giving Dalanesca the opportunity to talk to marth if she desired.

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Wed May 18, 2016 11:34 AM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

Marth’s embarrassment caused her a bit of laughter.  “It’s no worry - besides, maybe it’s time I change it up a little bit, anyway,” she said.  The black ensemble she usually wore was leftover from her days as an assassin, and those days were behind her now.  However, her attention was piqued when he mentioned reinforcing it during their journey.  “I suppose it would be nice to keep it, however… It fit so perfectly, worn in well,” she said, quietly.  

She nodded when Marth mentioned being able to communicate with one another.  “To a point, yes,” she said.  “It’s not really telepathy, but mostly I’ll know if you need me, and in turn you’ll know if I need you.  I think, as our bond strengthens, it will enhance itself… words, phrases, things like that.”  She paused for a moment.  “But, I could be wrong.  Maybe it will work that way.  We won’t find out until we aren’t near one another,” she added.  

She let out a chuckle at his retort to her joke regarding the honey, glad that her humor was not lost on him.  “To each his own,” she said, with a quirked eyebrow, watching Marth for a moment.  She followed suit when Marth stood, walking behind him to the door.  “Thanks,” she said, in regard to his holding the door open for her, and stepped out, walking to the armory along with Marth.

She was surprised at how quickly he managed to find their destination, considering she had been under the impression that the location was as new to him as it was to her.  There seemed to be a decent amount of equipment available to them, but nothing out of the ordinary; however, that changed as Marth pressed something - a button from his shirt? - to an unfamiliar emblem on the wall.  A hidden door opened, and she nodded, impressed.  “We shall, she said, stepping in behind him.

She could see why this area was only accessible by some for a certain reason - the equipment within seemed to be of a more important nature, several things scrawled with sigils and emblems that she did not recognize off hand.  She directed her gaze to the armor which Marth had found when he got her attention.  She walked over and stood next to him, appreciating the armor’s appearance.  “Looks well made, and durable,” she said, taking it from him.  Waiting a moment, she received the harness from him as well.  “Thanks,” she said, and took a couple steps away.  

She pulled the armor on slowly, paying close attention to the way it conformed to her body.  It fit her similarly to the way her own armor did, since it too was leather, but it still had that stiff feeling of new armor.  It felt a bit tight on her chest, but loosening the side buckle did away with that issue.  She slide the harness over the armor, and went about the armory, grabbing several sheaths and blades and placing them at strategic points about her armor.  As a finishing touch, she draped the scarf around her neck, reaching back to pull her hair out from the inside of the armor, the black waves cascading down around her shoulders.  

She walked back to Marth and tapped him on the shoulder.  “The armor fits well,” she said, with a bit of a grin.  “I think I’ve got what I’ll need,” she added.  “I’ll just wait out there for you,” she said, gesturing towards the exit.  She needed a moment to herself.  After everything that had happened, she had immediately gone to Marth, and hadn’t taken a moment to process.  The whole situation was a bit overwhelming to her.

She made it out into the hallway outside the first armory, and leaned against a wall, her back to the door of the armory.  She drew a long breath and let it out slowly, trying to organize all of the thoughts rushing around in her mind.  “Well, hard part’s done, Dal,” she said quietly aloud to herself.  “You know what happened, and he believes you, and that’s all that matters, for now,” she continued.  She lowered her head, running her fingers through her hair.  “Keep focused.  You promised Marth you would help him with this task, and you can’t let your mind get jumbled.  Focus on him - focus on what you promised you would do for him,” she muttered, standing back up straight.  She closed her eyes for a moment, resting her head against the wall, as she waited for Marth to come back out and let her know their next steps in departure. 

Author: Marth, Posted: Tue May 17, 2016 9:06 AM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

Marth nodded as Dalanesca made her complaint about getting new armour - and blushed slightly. "Yeah, sorry about that… But I do think you'll find the fellhunter armour suitable. I can work on repairing your chestpiece while we're on the road. If I ask for some small plates and such, I could reinforce it as well."

Marth, too, felt the stronger connection between the two as Dalanesca looked at him. He was familiar with psionic bonds, and this was similar, yet not entirely the same. Connections done with psionics bound two individuals together in mind, but Marth felt the connection ran deeper - and through something else, presumably the Blinded Scales. Marth elected that he'd be better off just giving the sensation time to settle in. "I assume you'll be able to hear my prayers wherever you are henceforth, and that I'll be able to hear your responses as well."

Marth tried (and failed) not to watch as Dalanesca treated her wound. He chuckled at her comment, a half tired, half sly smirk on his lips. "Noone said the two can't be combined. I seem to recall one of my former colleuges having a thing for nurses." He picked up the jar of honey and studied it with a cheeky grin, before discarding it.

As Dalanesca pointed out that it was probably time to get moving, Marth nodded and got up, trying his best not to look too affected by what had just happened. Focusing on the task in front of them seemed to help. "Yes, quite. They'll have everything we need in the armoury, I imagine. Let's get going." He went to the door and held it open for Dalanesca, like a proper gentleman, as he answered her final query. "And I suggest we keep a lid on this for the time being. I'd prefer Martin didn't think us lunatics for the time being. Being a devout man, he'll find out that new gods have appeared soon enough, and we can take him to your realm." Assuming Dalanesca passed him out the door, Marth would then accompany her to the armoury.

Marth, despite not having been at the keep before, found the armoury with relative ease. The various map plates, signs, and servants throughout the castle did nothing to make the search more difficult, either. They both appeared in the armoury in a few minutes, which Marth was apparently happy to spend in silence, contemplating. Once they entered, it was clear that, despite their scholarly nature, the lords and ladies for the house had a prudent amount of weapons and armour available. Marth went immediately over to a wall with a painted emblem. "Hrm. Seems like a simple lock." The wall looked to be made of pure stone, but Marth pressed a button on his sleeve againt the painting, and sure enough, a chunk of the wall swung open. he looked at Dalanesca with a smile. "Shall we?"

Inside the secondary armoury, there were several suits of ornate armour of all kinds, as well as sanctified weapons, artifacts, and scrolls. Marth found a small set of leather armour, mostly plain black, but with gold embroideries along the seams. It seemed to have been made for a young woman - about Dalanesca's size, with adjustable straps. The sigil of the Fellhunter Fraternity was painstakingly embroidered on a midnight scarf accompanying the armour, able to be turned inside-out for stealth. Marth looked at the armour, then at Dalanesca, smiling. "Think I found your armour." He then went over to a shelf, and found a harness which would fit nicely over it. "And here's a harness you can hang sheathes and satchels on."

Marth looked around, and found a few baubles he saw fit to inspect more closely. He also found a set of vambraces, which he tried (and apparently liked), and well as inspecting a rack of legplates - the type which would give him added protection against sharp weapons without sacrificing a lot of mobility. he finished grabbing small items and field nessecities, giving Dalanesca time to change and look through the place herself.

Author: Dalanesca, Posted: Tue May 17, 2016 8:30 AM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

Dalanesca had merely closed her eyes, and when she reopened them she was right back in Martin’s castle.  She drifted her gaze to Marth, whose head was in his hand seemingly deep in thought.  She could not blame him - it was a lot to take in, even for her - she could not imagine being in his position.  She let her eyes rest on Marth for a few moments, before he began to speak to her.

Upon his mention that she was in need of new armor, she let out an exasperated sigh and plopped down on the bed, leaning back on her hands.  “All too unfortunate,” she began.  “I was quite attached to that chest plate,” she continued, looking at the discarded and somewhat destroyed piece of leather that lay on the floor near where their altercation had taken place.  “Fellhunter armor, you say?”  She quirked one eyebrow, trying to think if she had seen any before in her time - and it appeared that she had not.  “I’ll take your word for it,” she said, sitting up right again as he looked at her.

Her eyes scanned Marth’s face for a moment, recalling what had happened in her realm.  Even before his declaration of servitude, as it were, she had felt a slight connection with Marth.  Now, that connection was ever present in her mind and she felt it very strongly.  It made perfect sense, that the high priest (or at least priest-like figure) of a deity would be important.  Her eyes stayed fixed on Marth, but her mind wandered elsewhere, contemplating what uses she would have for Marth when it came to his duties.  Of course, she would ask nothing of him unless absolutely necessary until the two had completed the task at hand.  

She snapped out of her thoughts when Marth spoke again, quickly catching the small jar of honey he had tossed her.  She looked down at the jar for a moment, and looked back at Marth.  “I’ll take your word for it,” she admitted.  She had never been overly knowledgeable about first aid, but she trusted Marth - she trusted him more than she could remember trusting anyone in a very long time.  

She unlaced the neck of her tunic and pushed the shoulder down, enough to expose to the wound but still covering necessary areas.  As she pried the lid off of the honey and dipped her fingers into it, she could not help but chuckle a little.  “You know,” she said as she smeared a bit of the honey onto the gash.  “I always thought if I was smearing honey on my chest in my bedroom in front of a man it would be for fun, not for first aid.”  She gave Marth a quick wink, pressing the lid back onto the jar of honey.  She stood from the bed and walked towards a water basin in the corner, pulling one shoulder of her tunic back up to hold it in place.  Dipping her hands in the water, she washed the honey from her fingertips. 

Drying her hands on a cloth that lay near the basin, she walked back over towards Marth and sat down cross legged on the floor in front of him.  “Well, we had best get back on the trail of this Borza bloke, Devil Eyes or whatever it is you called him,” she said.  “Let’s go get me that armor, get what you need, hit the armory, grab Martin, and get on with it, yeah?” she asked.  It seemed as though she a new source of energy had come with her deification, and she was eager to use it.  “Unless you want a little more time to process, yeah?” she quipped, reaching up and patting her hand on his leg.  “Speaking of which… are you going to tell Martin?  Or anyone?  Or should we just keep this under wraps a bit longer?” she asked, in reference to her new power.  “I’m going to let you make that decision… Think of it as your first task in acting has my adviser, along with your given title.”  

Author: Marth, Posted: Tue May 17, 2016 2:22 AM, Post Subject: Quiet, ch. 3 [P,R]

Marth opened his eyes, and once again found himself in Dalanesca's suite, in Castle du Reolar. It seemed as though no time at all had passed, but Marth was not suprised by this fact. Dalanesca was in the room, as well, even though Marth had left her realm before her. This didn't surprise him, either. In this physical world, however, his mind was no longer kept balanced by the mystical forces of the Blinded Scales - and Marth has to sit down and cradle his head in his palms to organize his thoughts.

Focus, Coralax, focus. There's a mission ahead, and a shard of Reaver. Do not forget it needs to be destroyed. Marth took a deep breath, and was somewhat startled by the voice that came next. Well, I won't lie, hunting down myself seems like good sport. Just remember, Coralax… You are Redeemer and Destroyer. Sooner or later, You'll have to let me come out and play… Marth tried to push the voice away, but for some reason, it faded on its own.

Still cradling his head in his hands, Marth spoke up, assuming Dalanesca had the proverbial (and in this case literal) presence of mind to hear him. "First things first, you need a new set of armour. A Fellhunter outrider's set would suit you nicely, I think." He lifted his head to look at her. He then glanced at a nearby table, where a breakfast tray still stood. There was a jar of honey. He looked at Dalanesca, and went over to the jar. "Expose your wound. Getting a burn ointment from the apothecary might raise questions, but honey has many burn-treating qualities." He then proceeded to throw the jar to Dalanesca, his mind finally settling.