She had been looking down at the ground to avoid the brightness of the sun when she heard a familiar voice call out her name.  Looking up, she saw Marth walking towards her - only it didn’t seem to be the Marth that she had first met the previous night in the tavern.  His hair was no longer an unkempt mess atop his head.  His clothing no longer looked as though he had been in battle for a fortnight.  He looked the picture perfect example of a respectable man, and she nodded slightly to herself in approval.  His new appearance only further proved the point that the disheveled and emotionally unpredictable man she had met the night before was not who Marth really was.

She waved her hand at him in acknowledgment when she looked up, just as the bells had begun to chime once more.  When he was within distance, she offered him a quick smile, fighting the urge to wince her eyes at the sunlight.  She could tell he was assessing her and it was quite obvious that he knew she was feeling slightly under the weather.  At his joke of her finishing the wine, she nodded with guilt.  “I did,” she said, though there was no sense of pride in her voice.  “Couldn’t let it go to waste, after all,” she quipped, standing up straight and removing her back from the wall she had been leaning upon.

“I’m quite used to walking,” she said, in response to his comment.  “Ten miles is easy, we could probably do fifteen if we push,” she added, with a bit of a shrug.  Reaching behind her, she grabbed the hilt of the blade sheathed at her spine and jostled it about a bit, checking to see that it was secure.  She found nothing more annoying than the blade being loose and wiggling to and fro against her back.  “Shall we?” she said, and headed out through the gate ahead of Marth.

She wasn’t entirely sure what pace Marth set when he walk, so she only walked ahead of him for a short time before slowing to let him fall into stride next to her.  As she walked, she unlatched her canteen from her belt and pulled the cork out, bringing it to her lips and taking a drink of the cool water it held.  “I guess I’m not entirely sure where we’re to be heading,” she admitted, looking at the path ahead of them.  It was apparent that even the short amount of walking and the bit of water she had consumed had helped her condition to recover.  She lowered her hood, black hair spilling out around her shoulders.  The leather straps that she used to tie her hair back were packed away in her side pouch.  It was cool enough outside at the moment that tying her hair back was unnecessary.

“You did a proper job of filling me in on the details last night, but I think some are still missing.”  She glanced over at him, and a feeling of realization washed over her.  She had accepted a mission with a man she had just met, who was clearly unstable in some form, and she had no idea where they were going or how long they would be gone for - and she was excited about it.  It was her chance to do something that would make a difference - and it wasn’t killing for coin.  A smile washed uncontrollably over her visage as this came to light while she awaited his information.

Marth caught up to Dalanesca, setting a marching pace. He heard out Dalanesca's questions, his spear dangling lazily from its sheath on his back as he walked. "Well. You saw the letter, we're going to seek out this 'Devil Eyes Borza', who can be found around the Highborn Ogre. I have a rough idea where it is - it's not listed on any major map, but I got a few pointers from a fellow traveler. If the weather agrees, we'll be on the road for three days before we can take a riverboat downstream. That's two days on a boat, then another day to reach our destination when we make land again."

Marth thought about the issue a bit. "That leaves us plenty of time to talk and plan further. As of now, however, there's no point in setting anything in stone until we know whether this Borza character really has the information we seek." Marth grabbed something cookie-like from his bag and took one. He also offered one to Dalanesca. "Honey cake. Energizing, but it leaves you thirsty."

She nodded at Marth as he repeated what had been listed in the letter.  He went into a bit more detail about how long the trip was likely to take them, and she thought it sounded like a reasonable amount of time.  It seemed that Marth wanted to travel at a brisk pace and she was fine with that - the faster they arrived at their destination, the sooner their mission could continue onwards. His mention of the riverboat fascinated her - it had been ages since she could remember being on a nautical vessel, and she found herself glad that she would be getting the experience again.  She hid her excitement from Marth, choosing only to nod once more to acknowledge the fact that she understood what he was saying.

“You make a good point,” she said, when her companion indicated that there was no reason for them to solidify their plans.  She watched with interest as he fished something out of his bag, offering it to her - it seemed to be food, but she was unsure - until he explained to her what it was.  “Never had one,” she said, taking it from him.  “But thank you,” she added, and took a bite of it.  It had a sweet flavor and interesting texture, but she could see what he meant about it making one thirsty.

She took a few more bites of the cake, finishing it swiftly.  Reaching down, she unlatched her canteen from her side and pulled it up, uncorking it and taking a swig of the water that it contained.  After a moment, she offered it to Marth, in case he wished for a drink himself.

“I’m glad to have made your acquaintance, Marth,” she said, as the two continued on their walk.  “My life has hit a pretty standstill point, and it’s nice to have direction once more, and a purpose and cause to fight for,” she added.  The tone of her voice proved true just how grateful she was for the opportunity, and her face showed it as well.  “I hope that I am truly an asset to you, and I am hopeful that I will be able to help you control your… episodes, or whatever you refer to them as,” she added.  The man seemed like he was someone worth having as an ally, even with the underlying trauma that the entire ordeal he had suffered had caused him.

Marth looked at Dalanesca questioningly, but with a small smile, accepting the waterskin and having a modest swig. "Well, I'm glad that, if nothing else, this isn't too inconvenient. And I know all too well how boredom can dull one's mind. Have you ever seen a Wyllmochvarian peacetime duty rotation? I'd imagine being a windmill is more entertaining." He gave a chuckle. After a while, though, his smile settled down, more content than happy.

"I'm glad I made your acquaintance as well, miss Dalanesca. It'll be good to travel with company again." His smile faded altogether. "Keeps the nastier parts of my existence away." The smile returned. "And as you can imagine, it can do wonders for a man's mood. Now, to pass the time, I was thinking we could talk about of weapons and fighting styles. That way, we also learn something about each other which will allow us to respond better to… unforseen events. What do you say?"

When Marth took the canteen from her, she felt a bit of solace - he seemed to find her trustworthy enough to accept a beverage from her, and that was telling in and of itself.  “It’s not inconvenient at all,” she said, with a bit of a grin.  She could not help but let out a laugh as he mentioned peacetime duties, imagining that it would be quite dull.  “I guess a windmill would be amusing,” she said, flailing her arms about in imitation of a windmill’s blades.  

She found it refreshing that the two of them were able to crack jokes and find a bit of laughter this early in their journey.  She knew from past experiences that such humor was useful on long quests and missions, as at times they could become quite dark and the happenings could be a bit troublesome.  A laugh and a smile couldn’t always cure every ailment, mend every injury, or fix every situation; but they were better than nothing.  

“I’ll do what I can to help you keep that in check,” she said, when he mentioned his - she was unsure what to call it.  Condition?  Ailment?  Either way, she planned to help him in controlling it as best she could.  “I’ll be a mood lightener as much as you need me to,” she added.  “Though I can’t guarantee I won’t have my dark moments as well.  I don’t have the… problem, that you do,” she said, continuing on.  “But I’ve got plenty running ‘round in this mind of mine that I might not be the most chipper on some days,” she said, a bit of a blush coming to her pale cheeks as she admitted this fault.  “I try my best to contain it, but it leaks out at times,” she added, realizing how silly she must have sounded to Marth has he dealt with much worse on a daily basis.

She was glad when he changed the subject to discussing their different styles of fighting and combat.  This brought a smile to her face - it would give her a chance to show off all of the blades she had hidden throughout her wardrobe.  She never failed to surprise people - she always managed to produce a blade from a place they never would have though.

“Gladly,” she responded, the excitement for such discussion viable in her eyes.  “As you well know from what I’ve told you, I’ve mastered the arts of stealth and shadow,” she said, no doubt referring to her past as an assassin.  “I favor smaller blades, though I’ve got one large one I like to use,” she said, and she slowed to a stop.  Reaching behind her, she produced a long, slender blade that had been in the sheath down her spine, the silver metal glinting in the sunlight.  “This one comes in handy in prepared battle situations,” she said, brandishing it a bit before replacing it.  

“And then I’ve got these,” she said, flicking her hands downwards.  A small katar-style blade slide out across the specialized half-gloves that she wore, their handles falling into grasp.  “I tend to use these for more dire situations, as they are quick to draw,” she said, carefully sliding each one back up her sleeve.  

A few minutes passed as she produced more and more weaponry to show Marth - two blade in each boot, one on a hilt at each side, and one tucked in a hilt shoved into the cleavage created by the corset she wore over her tunic.  She was about to show him the small dagger she kept tucked away in the waistband of her leather leggings, but thought the better of it.  It might be beneficial for her to still have one weapon secreted away from him in case of emergency. 

Awaiting his reaction, she smiled sheepishly.  “Well?  What about you?” she asked with a lopsided grin.

Marth looked, with some surprise, at the sheer amount of hidden weaponry Dalanesca was able to carry with ease. He had imagined a hidden blade or two, but the gear she was wielding had her prepared for more or less any kind of pitched battle. After the tenth weapon, marth began to chuckle a little, for it seemed so very over-the-top.

Nevertheless, Marth wasn't shy himself when Dalanesca asked him to take his turn. Not breaking stride, Marth allows a ball of fire to form in his hand, burning lazily - as if the fire was somehow trapped in slow-moving time. Marth looked at Dalanesca with a smirk. "Fireball. Nothing special about it. I bet you've seen this kind of spell before," he said, flinging the fireball into the air. Then, after ten metres, it suddenly began to drop, following a curved trajectory like a grenade. Marth chuckled. "Allowing a ball of sheer magic to be affected by gravity is a bit trickier, though. But any skilled bage can do it. The real fun begins when I start cross-casting - using overlapping magical 'blueprints' to make a new effect. Some call it combo-casting." Still not breaking stride, Marth was suddenly surrounded by what must've been at least a hundred fireballs the size of golfballs. Marth then pointed into the air, and they began launching at a rate of about a dozen balls per second, a flurry of sustained fire like a blazing hailstorm. Marth's grin widened. "Mixing the concept of spirit blades and fire, I can create a blinding, suppressing barrage of small fireballs which can halt half a dozen threats at once if used correctly. This buys me time to use my skills in close-quarters combat, or - if the surroundings permit…" Marth made a sound like clearing his throat, before it changed into the sound one makes when creating a truly dense and nasty glob of spit. small flames trickled from marth's mouth, and he spat in the direction of a nearby creek.

The water erupted on contact with the high-velocity spit glob, spraying water thirty feet into the air and spreading hundred of highly flammable globs of sticky material, cathing on to trees, ground, and probably either Dalanesca or Marth as well. With a wave of his hand, however, the fires immediately died, before any lasting harm could be done. Where the creek once flowed swift and dangerous, there was now a crater slowly filling up with waist-high water.

Marth kept on grinning like a fool. "There are other spells in my arsenal as well, but I should not strain my magic too far. It gives me headaches, and you can guess where that leads." He showed Dalanesca his spear, however. It was slightly longer than he, with a long, wide blade at the tip, and engravings on the shaft. "This functions as both spear and mage's staff. See those glyphs? Carved into the shaft by an old priest after I was… exorcised. It taps into my magic reserves to activate a blessing, which coats the blade in a hell-purging sheath of light. Excellent when facing demons, probably effective against undead as well. I've yet to try that."

Then, Marth clenched his fist demonstratively. "Finally, there are these. My hands. Republican battlemagi of Wyllmochvar often train themselves in at least two or three mêleé disciplines, as it heightenes focus and allows us to know our own limits better. In turn, that makes us more efficient casters. I chose to train in soujutsu, an Ataiyo form of spearfighting, as well as händerkrieg, an aggressive form of fistfighting practised in Egjora. I have integrated both into my casting pattern." His smile was softer now, more down-to-earth and sincere. His days in training were fond memories, it would seem, reinforcing the idea that study and practise (and thus becoming a battle-mage) was something Marth was as good as born to do.

Dalanesca could see the amusement in Marth’s eyes as she went a bit overboard with her weaponry presentation.  To some, it may have seemed over the top, but she could go through and name off a situation when each and every one of the weapons she carried had come to be necessary.  Not to mention, having to learn to still practice stealth arts while carrying such weight in weapons had been a very useful type of exercise.

She watched with extreme interest as Marth went on to show her the kinds of magic she was capable of, and she found herself impressed - but also jealous.  She knew that in the past she had been capable of magic, but she could not quite figure out how to do it anymore.  It seemed as though some trace of herself had been left behind in wherever it was that she had come from, and that trace was the part of her that contained the ability to cast any magic.

She crinkled her nose with mild disgust at the sound that Marth suddenly made, preparing to jump out of the way in case he had somehow cracked and was about to spit at her - but instead, she could see small flames beginning to spill out of Marth’s lips - immediately followed by a glob of spit being expectorated into the water near them - at which point the water erupted into flames.  She raised her eyebrows in surprise, her hands coming to her hips.  “Impressive,” she said, offering him a sly grin.  He clearly looked proud of himself, but at the mention of headaches she nodded.  “Best not to have that happen, I’d think,” she said.

She found the spear impressive, as well as his apparent knowledge of melee combat styles.  “I think we’ll make the perfect pair for this mission,” she said, confident in her statement.  With his knowledge of magic and her knowledge of stealth coupled with their combined knowledge of hand-to-hand combat, the two would be able to get themselves out of most situations, probably unharmed.  

She could see the change in his demeanor when he smiled - it almost seemed like he was lost in his memories for a time.  At this point, she realized - this was going to be a mission wrought with dark times and unhappiness.  It would probably do her well to remember something fond as well - but Dalanesca did not possess many fond memories from this land, and any memories of such light from her previous state of being were blurred and hard to remember.  “Marth?”  she said suddenly, an idea popping into her mind.  “Can we make a deal that no matter what happens, we will attempt to make this mission as… light-hearted as possible?”  She realized as she was speaking exactly how ridiculous that sounded.  “I know… sounds completely idiotic.  But I figure, if we at least try… it might not be so bad, right?” she asked.  

Marth looked at Dalanesca as she blurted out her concern with a perked eyebrow. When she was finished his expression had turned grim. "Provided everything goes as planned, we'll still be facing dark wizards, demons, and probably a whole lot more. More likely than not, innocent people will be caught in the crossfire, and before our work is done, people will have died. Some good, some bad… And at the end of the day, we'll have to look back on what we've done, and decide whether or not it was worth it, to take down a shard of Reaver." He looked at Dalanesca, and there was the slightest hint of a sly smile on his face. "If we don't stay positive, we won't come out of this with our sanity intact. So yes, we can certainly make this mission as light-hearted as possible."

"Good luck with that, chap," came a voice from nearby. Marth was startled, immediately jumping into combat position, his eyes wide in momentary terror. He launched a fireball in the general direction of the voice. "Whoa!" Dodging the fireball, a young man in plate armour fell off the boulder he was resting on, barely managing a semi-graceful landing with a grunt. Marth looked at the man wide-eyed for a bit. He was breathing heavily, every fiber of his being prepared to fight. He was too startled to see the man's heraldry - the same icon he had sewn onto his mattlemage's robes, the sigil of the Fellhunter Fraternity. He was almost about to attack when the young knight held up his hands in a 'stop' fashion. "Easy, captain Coralax, easy, I'm a friend. I'm sorry if I startled you." Marth just managed to stop himself, and the terror drained from his face, replaced by annoyance and more than a little confusion. "You… Oh. What?" He dropped his combat pose, allowing the man to get on his feet. "There's something familiar about you, young man - not counting your sigil. Have I met you before?"

The man looked at Marth and Dalanesca in turn, his facial expression concerned. "I'm tracking down the same thing you are, captain Coralax. I, too, am hunting Reaver. My name is… Martin du Reolar." Marth just looked dumbfounded at the knight for a second, but winced as the young man gave his name. "Martin… You're Maurice's heir." Marth looked away, his expression one of pain and regret. He turned to Dalanesca, whispering. "His father died by my hands when the Fellhunter Fraternity caught up to me. His uncle, too." Marth looked as though he was about to despair. The young man waited for a brief second before speaking. "As you can understand, I have a personal reason to see the rest of the shards destroyed. Captain Coralax… Please. Let me come along. Reaver is a menace that must be destroyed." Marth looked despairing, completely unable to find words. He looked at Dalanesca with desperation, hoping against hope that she'd somehow know what to say. "The demon tortured you and killed hundreds, my father and uncle included. Please…" Both men were beginning to cry. The situation was deteriorating rapidly.

Listening carefully while Marth addressed her concerns, placing her hands on her hips and furrowing her brow as it seemed at first that he was going to disagree with her, but the furrowed brow turned to a smile once more as she could tell that he too was masking a smile.  “It’ll be worth it.”  Her voice held an air of forced assurance, and she was unsure if the assurance was meant for Marth, or for herself.  “I’m glad we can be on the same page about it, then,” she said, and her hands dropped from her hips, though she switly ducked to one side as a voice broke the silence between the two of them and Marth went on the defensive, shooting a fireball in the direction of the disturbance.  

Dalanesca tumbled to a crouched position, blades slipping into her hands from within her sleeves, ready for an attack.  She could see a man, who looked to be a bit younger than see, struggling to keep his footing.  She dropped her stance the moment she saw Marth relax, and went back to standing normally.  She withdrew one of the blades, in her dominant hand, while her non-dominant hand still held the other.  Though Marth had relaxed and seemed to know who this man was, she did not, and she felt the need to keep her wits about her.   She could see the emblem in the newcomer’s clothing, and she recognized it as familiar from Marth’s own robes - she had noticed it when she had admired how well he had cleaned up. 

Worry spread throughout Dalanesca as she could see emotion beginning to course through Marth as the man introduced himself.  It was clear that the situation was not one Marth should be in, but she was unsure how to handle it at first.  When Marth gave her a brief explanation, she nodded her understanding, and reached a hand up to his shoulder in a comforting sort of way.  She thought perhaps the physical contact would help keep him grounded, but as the man - Martin, as he had introduced himself, kept talking, she could see Marth becoming more and more upset.

Marth looked at her in desparation, and she slightly tightened the grip she had on his shoulder.  “Stop,” she said to Martin, her voice cold and harsh.  “You need to get away from us - far away from us,” she said, her tone threatening.  She could see now, with the tears that had begun streaming down Marth’s face, that the situation was on its way to disaster, and she needed to get that man far from Marth before things deteriorated even further.  “We will cross paths again, and at that time we will discuss things, but for now - take leave!  For your safety as well as our own!”  

Without waiting to see the man’s response to her plea, Dalanesca turned to face Marth completely, swiftly sheathing the dagger she held in her non-dominant hand.  Her hand still resting on his shoulder, she brought the other one up to his cheek, forcing his gaze to her own.  “Look at me, Marth.  Breathe.”  She pulled her hand from his shoulder and brought it to his face, wiping the tears that had fallen from his eyes and resting that hand on his opposite cheek.  She held his face firmly towards her own, her eyes never leaving his.  “You’re not going to do this - not now, not here,” she said, her voice demanding but somehow without anger.  “Stay with me here, and don’t lose it,” she said, her voice softening slightly, her hands never leaving his face, praying silently that her words and focus would help him stay Marth rather than the darker thing that hid within him.

Marth shook Dalanesca off, shaking his head frantically. "No, no, I'm fine. I'm fine." He didn't look the part. Somehow, the brief shock of seeing this familiar face had left him looking a ragged mess again, but Marth didn't look like he was about to go ballistic. He took a few deep breaths and continued. "I've no right to deny this man his vengeance, any more than I can deny myself the right to redemption. If he wants to come, he comes." His voice was shaking, but there was a steely quality to his eyes - whatever else was going on in Marth's head, this was something he was sure of.

Martin looked up at Marth, closing his eyes in relief - and wiping away the tears. "Thank you, captain Coralax. I swear, I blame no mortal man for the death of my father and uncle. That was not your doing. All I want is to see the rest of the shards destroyed." The young man seemed honest. Mostly because he was a pious young paladin, but also because he came across as far too stupid to lie. He gathered up his things - relatively modest for someone with a title of nobility. "I am travelling light, but once we get closer to the border, I should be able to have one of the local lords help us out. Alternately… We could go to my county. On the way, we can exchange information, and once we're there, I can provision you as well as myself, and call on some of my household retainers."

Marth took a long time to respond. He was still gathering his wits from the shock, but he appeared to be calmer. His stress level passed a threshold, and the years as a soldier snapped back into place. He looked at Dalanesca, frowning. "The county of Reolar is a fair bit out of our way, and secrecy might still be of importance. But with more people and better provisions, we'll have more to fall back n should things go awry. What do you say, Dalanesca? Go with Martin, or keep on our present course?"