NationStates Jolt Archive

The Call of The Faith

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Baralai- The head priest who presided over the temple of Asmodez. Unlike in many cultures, priests are normally young and can be female as well. They can be in relationships with others though many choose not to be. After a short friendship with a woman named Sun, Baralai believed it was time to seek the empress, for he had heard rumor that she could give eternal life. Upon arriving at her residence and taking up counsel with her, she promised to give him what he wished so that he may preside over the temples for the remainder of his time if he could bring to her the Eye of Odin, which is rumored to be deep within Mount Ryoden; one of the tallest mountains in the Three United Empires. Since the mountain is rather difficult to climb, he enlisted help in others to accompany him on the journey.

Baralai was the last one at the campfire that night at the base of the mountain. Albeit they were staying in a hotel and there was no need for one, but in the flames he was soothed. The small flickers illuminated his tan skin as he pushed back the white hair from his forehead. It was three years since he had left Sun at the temple, and had gone to the empress to make his request. Over that time, he had selected seven guardians to accompany him to the summit of Mount Ryoden and traverse through the caverns deep within to bring the Eye of Odin to the empress. He had no idea what the Eye of Odin is, nor what it would be used for. All he knew is what it looked like. Giving it to the empress, however, seemed the best decision. He had seen it with his own eyes the wings which protruded from her back. Those were not machina; those were real. He had approached the empress wanting her gift of the Eternal he had heard rumors about, so that he would preside over the temples; protecting them from the corrupt. Luckily, there had never been any corruption within the temples simply because of the laws of being a priest or priestess. A priest can be a man or a woman, and both have equal honor and reverence in performing the activities and delivering the heartfelt sermons. A priest was also allowed to date. Baralai, in fact, had never dated anyone. If he had his choice it would have been that blue-eyed girl with the long auburn hair he met on the beach so long ago. She, however, was on her own journey now. What ever it may bring her fate would decide, and he would finish his.

Garr Altima-Garr has long brown hair which he wears in a variety of styles all at once, glasses that he wears farther down than what he should, and a face and body that somewhat betray his age. Still muscular and strong at 45, Garr’s body reflects his lifestyle as a bounty hunter in the various scars and injuries covering his body. Garr is a hardened man, who has seen and experienced much in his 45 years.
Garr was created as a character in order to hunt down Rei Warheit, who had been unknowingly possessed and generally causing mayhem throughout the Sector. Of all the bounty hunters to look for Rei, Garr was the one to find him, however at this point the energy being Leandro Heroth was cast out of Rei’s body, and Garr betrayed his bounty mission in order to help Rei stop Leandro from assassinating Alexander Nemerov, the Emperor at the time. However, his victory did not come without a price, as he was not far from death afterwards.
Following this, Garr and Rei became great friends as Garr recuperated, living together until the time of the Orion Civil War. While Garr worked as a blockade runner and smuggler for the Resistance, Rei set out on a search for the truth about his ancient race, ultimately discovering it as well as its ties to NiMBUS Biotechnologies, the corporation responsible for the war. After Rei disappeared following the Resistance’s victory in the war, Garr once again resumed hunting bounties throughout the Empire.

Liam Declare- When in human form, Liam stands 6'5" with dark brown hair worn shoulder length. He sometimes pulls his hair back into a loose ponytail. His eyes are colored amber, with a few curious flecks of green. He sports a lean athletic build. Liam is often standoffish and quiet, sometimes embodying more of the traits of the wolves who cared for him than the humans who raised him. Thanks to the canine aspects of his intelligence, he is quick to learn and adapt to a changing situation. Abandoned at a young age, Liam eventually found himself in Gaeltach. Lycans are not common, nor are they native to the country, so his adoptive parents raised him in more or less seclusion. It was this lack of exposure to civilzation which drove him to travel as a young adult. Liam longed to see the world, and discover others like him. He was often treated with contempt by those who discovered his secret, and several times this contempt lead to unabashed violence. These confrontations taught Liam to fight, and to give in to his rage. It was at the height of one these furies that a local cleric found and was able to calm him. Following that event, he decided to leave Gaeltach for good. In his travels, he found that the clergy were always more accepting of him, and he soon learned to use his rage for the protection of others. He developed a profound affection for the religious and spiritual, and while unable to walk that path himself, he pledged himself to their cause.

Baralai had spent only a week with some of them, months with others, and some just days. It was upon this day that the group was ready to go once that sun rose on the horizon. He looked up at the sky and admired how the stars seemed to be like sparkling diamonds; worth far more than he could ever hope to attain on this journey. He knew the journey would not be easy; and he knew why the empress just hadn’t gone herself. It wasn’t because of the Cerberus wolves or the dangerous climb. It was because the empress, in being empress, had not the time. It would seem that she was taking a retreat for a week or so, as she had not been back in a while. It might have had something to do with her sire. Baralai was connected with this land, with this nation, as if this alone had given him strength. There was no doubt that this land held something other than dirt and vegetation. It was as if through it flowed a life force.

Lanes (Lan-izz) Caine-Short with hair past her shoulders and tucked back behind her ears and around her neck. It's usually light brown, although at times it darkens or lightens with her mood and other mitigating factors. It's strange like that. She's no taller than five and a half feet, and appears frail, but her vampiric abilities give her unnatural strength. She's smart, but has an interesting weakness. She can't remember anything, and as part of this her own mind has established mental blocks to try and keep her safe, reverting back to another time. She can remember things for hundreds of years, but her mind keeps them squished together, making her think she's no older than about twenty-five.
The mental blocks also keep her abilities in check. Her force of will disbelieving she needs to drink blood keeps her strong, though while she sleeps small animals die periodically. She never eats anything, and consciously finds it strange that she is never hungry. She doesn't notice her long teeth, the mental blocks altering her perception of reality to make her believe she is human, thanks to some awful things that happened to her while a vampire. She tends to have no recollection of using supernatural abilities even when she does use them, as her mind blocks them out afterwards.She also has magical ability, fairly strong, but this has been completely blocked out by her subconscious and she had no recollection of its existence or ever having used it. For all intents and purposes, - to her, at least - she is a normal person. Anyone who points out that she is a vampire will find she has forgotten the conversation by the next day.
She doesn't know, so why should you? She met Baralai at his church, when she would appear, listen to his sermons from the back row, and leave again, never speaking to anyone. She was seeking salvation or some explanation for why she could remember so much but at the same time not remember so much, why she had memories of things from the past, things she read about in history books, and so on. Seeking answers for the jumbles that are her mind, she eventually turned to see if religion could fix them. She's been wandering around the earth for a long time, and now is accompanying Baralai on this journey because she wishes to see the Empress of the United Empires, hoping she can help her in some way, somehow. The stories about the Empress are enough that she believes she can do something to help her, so she's doing this to meet her and try and earn her favour.

Connor McManus-Connor was born and raised in the more rural Westchester, a southern, coastal town in Imitora. His family wasn’t extremely wealthy, like most of the Westchester locals, but by no means were they poor. He did well in high school, registering in the top ¼ of his class, and also excelled in sports, winning first team all region running back two years in a row. He was a shoe in for any of the nation’s top colleges, but his father urged him to join the military at an early age instead of waiting for conscription at 20. He took an offer the presented the best of both worlds, and was accepted at Imitora’s Naval College at Seaport. At Seaport, he majored in Military History with an expertise in Modern Special Forces applications, and minored in Foreign Political Relations. Further, he took night courses to study in the legends of antiquity.
He graduated in the upper half of his class, and after completing OCS, took a commission as a 2nd Lieutenant in the Imitoran Marine Corp. Three weeks after completing OCS and receiving his commission, Imitora declared war on the Markov, and the young Lieutenant with a platoon of fresh out of boot Marines were sent as a primary landing force in order to divert forces away from the Naval Special Warfare Teams landing on the southern tip of the nation. Upon landing, the force under came much heavier fire than expected, but his quick thinking and leadership skills kept all his men alive, and they managed to take three Markovian pill boxes. It was here he saw first hand the total disregard of human life that permeated throughout the human race, as the Markovians threw waves and waves of soldiers at the Imitoran Marines, with no cover or assistance to help.
During an early off rotation period in the Three United Empires, he observed what appeared to be a young couple on a beach. The man was meditating, and the girl observing the man. He began to notice the two on the beach regularly, and in investigation, found out the man was priest. He attended one of the priest’s sermons, and the man’s words brought the feeling of hope and humanity back to Connor. Soon, he began following the priest wherever possible, trying to attend every sermon he could.


He knew secrets about the empress that many have never guessed or even dreamed of. The lifestream which flows through this land came from her. She created this land, and she had given him a small drop of this life stream. He had become more in tune with the land and the people that inhabited it. He felt that he could draw more easily conclusions about his companions and sense feelings in which normally they would try to hide. It was a small gift, but a great gift to be sure. He wondered what the eternal would be like. If it would be like receiving the gift of the lifestream, or if it would be something entirely different. Whatever it felt like; the gift of the Eternal would grant him eternal life. Part of him wanted that, part of him wanted to die, but his reason for doing this was to ensure the safety of the temples across this nation. All in all there were about eight hundred across the expanse of the Three United Empires. The people were very religious across the nation, given that their empress was both of heaven and hell. She was a seraphic, and that is what Baralai preached. He sought to bring people in tune with the earth, their lives, their purpose, and give them hope. Hope is what everyone searches for.


Vaeda DesantiAnother product of war, her life began as any other child’s would have, playing in the woods exploring caves and mountains while silently anticipating the sight of wildlife. That was, of course, until the war broke loose so long ago. Forced to evacuate the nation when an untested prototype chemical XGN T2 was released, her parents were immediately ushered onto a helicopter out of the nation. Vaeda, however, was left behind during her child’s play; and when she returned home to an empty village, she learned the first cruel taste of loss. Living with the wild, she traveled at great lengths to cross the nation to a fabled city that shone of gold and silver. She learned to listen and cooperate with nature, becoming attuned to the very whispers of the wind. Upon her journey though, she came across a group of people who had stationed themselves in the destruction of one the cities. It was there that she watched her first blood shed, it was there that she heard her first gunshot, and it was there that she learned of man’s hatred.
She tried to flee, but she could not, as she had no where to go and the group of people had already seized her. As a result, she faced her first brush with death as she stared down the barrel of a shotgun. But a woman had saved her, advocating for Vaeda’s life, claiming "She’s just a child." So she was taken under the wing of this woman, Clara, where she would spent the remainder of her childhood until Clara had disappeared.Traveling the world, high and low, she spent most of her life in the wildlife, learning the new animals of each place she traveled to. She was fascinated by each and every new plant that she saw and quickly learned to call for animals. Admired for her innate ability with nature, Vaeda was adored by Clara and sent to the best schools under a secret empire where she first learned of medicine. Resolving to undue the horrors she witnessed as a child, which manifested in her nightmares, she turned to nature, learning how to cure instead of kill.
In her present age of 28, Vaeda stands 5’9” with her long wavy auburn hair. Her eyes are crystal blue with a hint of amber when in the light strikes them just right. She sometimes needs to be reminded to wear clothing and her best friend is nature itself. She is ever playful, quiet, and reserved, but when threatened, she calls upon the forces of nature to come to her side.

Zarif Sifal- tall, gangly man with black hair, Zarif's face was horribly disfigured and his voice and sight lost in an ancient desert ritual years ago. The ritual was meant to summon spirits of strength into a human body; something went wrong, and Zarif's face was mauled by an unknown creature he asserts was a demon. He has even gone so far as to claim the spirit lives inside him. Nevertheless, the event left him changed; a powerful Empath, he has the ability to sense the feelings and intents of those around him. Speaking is still a major barrier, however; motion is the only way he has been able to communicate with most people.He pays a price for his advantage, however; in times of intense danger, or if he is provoked into anger, Zarif will descend from his calm, logical self into a bloodwrath, going berserk with fury-perhaps the same power of the creature who marked him so many years ago. Attacking with his traditional shamshir saber or his bare hands if need be, Zarif will attack and kill anything in his way, completely ignoring physical harm, until his wrath is satisfied, or he is restrained, or killed. This aspect makes him extremely dangerous to all around him, although he can be very useful in combat.Zarif is tall, standing at 6'4, although he is usually hunched over. He wears an ornate wooden mask to hide his ruined face and carries a long saber over his back. His clothes are simple; a cotton tunic, long, durable pants, and a pair of hardy boots. Zarif's body is covered in tribal tattoos, and he wears dozens of "enchanted" amulets and rings around his neck, wrists, and fingers meant to stop evil magic, bullets, and physical harm. Their precise effect is unknown, but being a man of strong mystic faith, their consequences on Zarif may just be psychological. Zarif has joined Baralai for obvious reasons; he wants his former self restored. His tribe long since banished him, repulsed by his features and thinking him an incarnation of evil; he wishes to return to the desert with his people and rid himself of the malevolence he believes lives inside him..

It wasn't apparent to his guardians; however, that each of them had something to take out of being with Baralai. He knew that he could help each one of them in a very different way. All it would take for them would be to open up to him. He knew that it would be more difficult for some than others, and perhaps some of them would still leave damaged, like Sun had been. He wondered about her. He hoped that she was safe. Hopefully along this journey; if she should fall he would be in tune with the life stream of this nation to feel her fall, and catch her. He always wanted to be there for Sun; but they both had their journeys to complete and each could only do so much for the other until they were complete. Until they would meet again, he would try to help those that had sworn to protect him and lay down their lives so that he could find what he needed to find. He was grateful for it; truly grateful.

Vishniov Paligen- Paligen is quite an imposing figure. He stands at a full Six foot three with a bulky body of tough muscles and strange devices. He always stands tall in any occasion, rarely backing down unless his superiors order him so…and order him forcibly. He covers himself with a strange pewter trenchcoat with buckles across the waist. They remain closed and have always remained closed for as long as anyone has ever seen him. Covering the lower portion of his face seemed to be some sort of neck guard that sprouted from underneath the trenchcoat, guarding his vital neck area from injury, however covering the lower half of his face. The upper half of his face however, shows a pretty handsome one. His hair is a spikey mess with a few spikes hanging down over his face like bangs. His piercing eyes are a dark gold, that speak of a hardened fury that may explode at any minute. His skin color is pale, as though he had never been exposed to the sun’s rays. His voice is deep and commanding, should he talk, yet tends to have an edge to it, as though he was always in a bad mood. However that is saying that one may see him without his pitch black goggles that tend to cover his face in battle. Above all his other clothing, he wears a black shimmering cloak that can shadow his face should he wish it.Vhisniov is somewhat of an enigma, as he refuses to speak much of his past to most, albeit a few. He tends to act for the good of the people, defending those that need it, and yet, he fights for money, and his own self-respect. Vhisniov was once an assassin and a well respected war-hero in a few wars against his master’s bitter rival. He assassinated countless personnel that had threatened his very nation, always as patriotic as he could be. However, on one mission, from the Glorious Master himself, resulted in a very bad way…He continued going about, killing those who needed killed and earning his money on it, buying more and more equipment for him to use- different pistols, many clips of ammunition, and a great many other things. However, one day, he received quite a perculiar request. It was signed by an Empress Ravelyn Shentavo from the Three Empires. Strange how one would be contacted by such a lustrous figure. He was to aid a priest by the name of Baralai up a mountain. With the knowledge of a good payment and perhaps some way to redeem himself, he hastily agreed and set up arrangements to arrive where he’d meet the priest.

Mount Ryoden was home to cerberus wolves; wolves which were larger than normal, more aggressive, stronger, and a good deal faster. They normally had dark or grey coats to blend into the mountain side. They were indeed, apt predators. Baralai had wanted to originally travel with a small group; though he felt that would not be enough to defend themselves. With a larger group it would be easier; albeit they would draw more attention to themselves. Apart from the wolves, the mountain path was not always apparent, and there had been notes of multiple times where the path has broken off and many have plummeted to the rocks below. What laid in that mountain was not meant to be touched by just anyone. It was the empress who had sent him, so with her blessing he traveled. He would find the Eye of Odin and return it to her. Then, his trial would be complete, and he would receive the gift of the Eternal.

So here he was; at the beginning of his journey; their journey. He stood up as the last embers of the fire died and the sun had risen just above the horizon to paint the sky with brilliant purples, blues, and oranges. He had stayed up all night, though it didn’t look like it. He watched as his guardians began to emerge from their cabins fully ready to go and carrying what equipment they would. Baralai did not carry a weapon; merely only a small satchel containing dried and salted fish and a canteen of water. He others; well, packed heavier. He still wore his robes as a priest; for that was what he still was regardless of being out of the temple.

“Let’s go,” he said, as they had all gathered outside, and they began their journey up the mountain.

Lanes expected the backpack would be heavy. It was filled with dried and salted food, mountaineering supplies, warm clothes, and a lot of water. She anticipated having to force herself to pick it up and put it on her back, until she tried. It was light as a feather, and she was confused as she threw it onto her back. She was not a big person, she did not have huge bulging muscles. Shaking her head, she threw the thought away and decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth as she stepped outside the cabin and looked at Baralai there, and from him upwards to the heights of imposing Mount Ryoden above them. She suddenly was filled with dread, the imposition of the mountain frightening her. She remembered something - a dream? - from long ago, when she had soared over tall mountains, one way or another. It had to have been a dream, people couldn't fly on their own. Strange that she could remember a dream from many years ago.

She stepped forward, adjusting her backpack's straps, and walked slowly towards Baralai. The others were already assembled, and e could tell they had been waiting for her to leave. "Let's go," Baralai said loudly once they had all gathered, and Lanes was slightly disappointed. She had wanted to get up earlier and spend some time sitting in front of the warm campfire, relaxing and calming her troubled mind, but it appeared she would not get the chance. The time to leave was now, and she did not want to be left behind.

As they started to walk, she turned their goal over and over in her mind. The Eye of Odin? She didn't even know what it was or what it did, and yet they were searching it out so Baralai could attain his goal. She found it kind of touching. They were all there for one purpose: to protect Baralai. Most of them owed him nothing, had no obligations to protect him, they were there because they were his friends, or they believed in him, or they simply did not want to see him get hurt. She smiled softly thinking about it. She, of course, had other motives. She wanted to see the Empress, to see if her legendary abilities could help clear her memory, give her her life back. Her thoughts were always twisted, her memories interweaving with things she could remember doing but could not remember happening. She could not remember her childhood, but she could remember what seemed like so much more than could fit into the years since she had left home. She was sick and tired of living like that. She could not even remember what her parents looked like, what they sounded like, whether or not they had loved her. She couldn't remember. Walking at the back of the group, thinking about this, a solitary tear fell from her eye, and she hurriedly wiped it away and steeled herself for the journey ahead. We're climbing a mountain. This is no time to be reminiscing about things I don't even remember. Climbing a mountain. Right.

She walked on in silence.

It was an eerie light that bathed the world, all colors gone save for the varying shades of green and black, highlighting existing light, and putting light where there was none. The small aperture attached to the end of the military issued scope took the standard blacks and blues of the night, changing them into visible greens, and allowing sight, headaches inducing as it may be, in the dark world. The scope was attached to the Picatinny rail mounted directly to the gas block of a modified Armalite rifle, a Mk 11 Mod 0 semiautomatic .308 Winchester marksman rifle.

The scope’s cross hair hovered around Baralai, near him, but not on him. It was not being aimed at the priest; his death was not the goal of the shooter. If he had wanted to shoot Baralai, he would have done it already, and been long gone. No, the scope provided an over watch, and observance of the priest. A long range protection. The cabin window had been open for the past two hours, and the dark night had been stripped of its privacy by the scope. Connor McManus watched, waited, for anything to happen.

He had seen much in his short life. He had seen the death, destruction, and capabilities that could be caused by a man, or woman, possessed, armed with nothing more than the desire to hurt, to kill, to destroy. He had seen the world stripped of humanity, hope, and life. Baralai was the opposite of that, a new type of person that the world needed more of, and it would be a cold day in the deepest parts of Hell before McManus let anyone take Baralai out of this world. And so he watched, his rifle dancing over the spots in the world that one could attack from. Spots where he, had he been here for another reason, used himself to bring havoc and fear down on the travelers.

He glanced away from the scope, looking down at his watch, and noted the time. He had been at his post for near two hours now, and luckily the usual migraine that would set on from extended use of any night vision gear had not gripped him yet. Happy that his sinuses had survived the assault, he disconnected the special adapter from the rifle scope, and pocketed it. He flipped the scope covers closed, and stood from his perch, slinging the rifle over his back. He had slept for five hours, far more than enough, and had slept in his fatigue pants and t-shirt, ready to move if needed. All he left off for his long nap were the boots, which he now wore, and his ruck, already packed and off in the corner. He had slept with his Springfield under his pillow, it was now on his thigh in a Serpa rig. He hoisted the ruck on his back, and adjusted the rifle. He was using a two point sling, the rifle hung in front of him instead of over his back. It would be no use to him there; he needed it to be close. He took a quick pull from the Hydrastorm pack, and headed out from the cabin, greeting his new mentor with a nod, his ever present situational awareness obvious as he glanced around, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

Waking up early, Vaeda strolled the grounds about her, interested more in the wildlife around her then sleeping. Even though she had traveled the world, she was still fascinated by the simplest of things; such as, how plants and animals could live together in such a balanced equilibrium. Humans though, they were another story; all she saw from that species was destruction, greed, and a selfish concern for only themselves. If it were in her nature to hate, her contempt would have been toward humans, for all they seemed to care about was getting what they wanted at that very moment in time.

Scouting the area for an early morning snack, she found the most wonderful red berries she had ever seen. Enthralled by their color, she scooped up a branch and inspected it, sniffing for familiar hints of poisons; noticing that the branches had been scraped and berries missing, she found the berries safe to eat. Taking up a handful, she enjoyed each and every one as she continued her exploration of this new land. The berries were sweet and she particularly enjoyed sweet berries the best. As she wondering back to the camp, she noticed a few people were already up and stirring, their day’s journey about to begin.

Realizing that she was again unclothed, as she normally was, she decided to slip into a comfortable pair of jean shorts, which she had received from Clara, and a simple brown camisole. She threw on a fur cloak the she had made from bear that was murdered and left in the woods of her home land. She always disliked the needless slaughtering of animal; the least anyone could do was fully use the animal’s carcass if they were going to kill it.

Gathering her bags, many equipped with medicinal items and extra, warmer clothing, she found her boots lying at the entrance to the cabin. Sliding them on, she was ready to go.

She joined the group and sat on log as they waited for the others. It was then that she first noticed Baralai, the entire reason she was here in the first place. He had seemed so inherent with nature, as if the trees and soil and moss that he stood among had carved out his very existence. He was at home amid the nature, blending in as if he had always belonged there.....and it fascinated her. She could not take her eyes off this man; it was the first man that she had seen who was one with nature....almost all the other people she had met stood awkwardly out among the nature that they have lost touch with for centuries.

Snapped back to attention by his call, "Let's go," she stood up and joined the collecting party. Still transfixed by how well this man had blended into his surroundings, she nearly forgot her bags before bending down to pick them up, feeling the weight of all that she had packed, surprised that for someone who planned on living mostly off the land, she had more then she had anticipated.

Fear. Anger. Confusion. Loss. Hate. Shame. Pity. Pride. Remorse. With all the emotions flowing around him, it was hard for Zarif Sifal to even walk straight, let alone register the physical sounds of those around him. The tall desert shaman took in each feeling of the group with amusement. Some people were just so complicated, and there was no shortage of those types here.

Zarif examined each mind around him, but was facinated most by the Priest. Baralai, he was called. What an strange fellow. It would be interesting to see how far he would go for the supposed immortality his empress could give. But then, that was the only reason Zarif himself had came-to recive what he himself most wanted. To purge the evils inside of him.

Carrying only his large sword and a small pouch on his back packed only with essentials, cstepped into the midst of the company around him. He had been awake for hours; barely content with any sort of sleep, he spent most of his time meditating or carving charms out of stone or wood. His arms and neck were covered in assorted bangles, beads, and amulets, while his fingers were adorned with more than a score of ornate rings.

Zarif cared little for his companions. Who they were and what would happen to them was inconsequential; Baralai was the only figure of any real importance. Baralai was the key to end all of Zarif's pains. He stepped closer to the priest waited patiently for the others to rise; it was time to go.

Liam felt a strange sense of calm about the whole endeavor. He had packed very little - virtually nothing. A skilled hunter in lycan form, he never wanted for food. But still, there was always the chance of finding no prey, so he had packed some provisions. He still remembered the day Baralai had asked him to come. The pride he had felt was beyond compare. Surely, this was his purpose.

He sniffed the air impatiently, to gain a sense of what was to come. Everything seemed normal for now. A bit unfamiliar, yet nothing menacing. He wondered briefly if the others would accept them if they knew his true form. He watched each one appraisingly. He was distrustful. A few he had been introduced to, but the rest.. well, he would watch his own back until he was sure.

Not really caring whether the others were ready, he glanced to Baralai and headed off down the road, sniffing the breeze. He didn't mind taking point, but suspected someone would eventually challenge him for the position.

"That is why I am here," a deep voice spoke sternly as he adjusted his pewter colored trenchcoat, buckling up the straps that lined straight down the center, until it reached his waist, ending completely. His coat continued on, however, dispersing to either side of his legs, ending at his black boots that vaguely resembled combat boots. "Money," he continued as he wrapped black goggles around his eyes. It was a mystery how he could see out of those dark goggles...but he somehow seemed to. He adjusted his large metal armor that covered the lower half of his face, trying to make it more comfortable. One who wore it without experience would most likely never get agreeable with one, but for him, he has worn it for years.

With his hands clad in a strange flexable metal, he buckled a few belts along his body. One around the waist, one diagonal from his shoulder to his waist, one on the other shoulder proceeding the opposite direction, making an x across his chest, and one on each leg. Each of these belts held at least one pistol. Underneath each sleeve, away from view, was a pistol loaded and ready to fire, should he require speedy defense as one of the small firearms would spring into his waiting palm. My duty is to protect the priest." He swung his cloak behind him, raised the hood over his head, and walked out of his temporary home, holding his bag in his hand. "By any means necessary."

Inside his bag, he held ammo clips, emergency food rations, flares, flaregun, and a first aide kit. Not to mention a good amount of water to hydrate him along the way. His bag was heavy, atleast to one much weaker than him. He had his military to thank for his strength.

He let his eyes scan those that had awakened, not so surprised that he was one of the tallest, if not the tallest currently there. Yet what really surprised him was the fact that there were a good many people who seemed quite harmless. But a main point taught to most soldiers was never to underestimate an opponent. He would keep his eyes on them.

He then looked towards the man whom he assumed was Baralai. The priest stood straight, tall, and confident. Yet he had the aura of help and understanding. A significant figure indeed.

If I am to work with him, I should get to know him a bit more, right? he thought to himself as he walked up to the priest, passing by the others along the way. He was surprised at how quiet everyone seemed, but determined it must have been something related to sleep.

As soon as he got side to side with the priest, his shadowed face turned a bit towards Baralai. "Greetings, sir. As you probably know, I am one of those hired to protect you. If you feel the need for anything to die, do not be afraid to ask," he said with no emotion.

Esamai groaned as he lifted his head from the rolled up blanket he had used as a pillow. He wiped his the corner of his mouth with the back of hand, there was a coating of wetness there. He sat up then wiped the drool from his face and spent a few minutes letting his muscles adjust to the cold morning air.

A familiar ache in his groan forced him to lumber into a standing position and toward a tall clump of snowball bushes. There he returned four bottles of Hinwich Extra Black to mother nature. As Esamai sighed at the release of pressure, a woman walked out of the woods - stark. butt. naked. It took a blink or two before he was convinced she was there and not an early morning phantom.

"Athaca!" he called, "The fox-people stole your clothes?" She continued without comment. Typical. "Don't drink everything those yautqaitl give you!" he said to her back.

He laughed as in on a private joke then zipped. The other were packing up as he returned back to camp and the girl was slipping her boots on. He strapped his rolled up blanket to his travel pack. The straps were of the same worn, brown leather as the rest of it. He had carried it from shore to shore for over three years now and it showed.

He heard a low, emotionless voice say, "If you feel the need for anything to die, do not be afraid to ask." Esamai looked up to find a tall, tall man in armor speaking to Baralai. Something about the man struck Esamai as wrong and he had wanted to say, "How about you?" Instead, he had kept his mouth closed.

Esamai half sung a hunting tune as they hiked. His hands buried in the pocket of black cargos, the song came out of him in fits and starts as he could no longer summon all of the words. The land around them was still warm and grassy. Sparrows and wren darted after the fat insects that hovered in the air. Esamai picked up a few rocks, and, with his sling, made a game of hitting them as they swooped.

“I don’t think there is a need for anything to die, Paligen,” Baralai responded effortlessly. He watched as the Lycan took the lead and figured it was best. His senses would be good especially for picking up the scent of wolves nearby. “I don’t think everyone quite understands…there are no people trying to kill me. It’s the mountain.” With a pleasant smile he continued, hiking up the rocky path which wound along the grey-slate mountain. It was tall; very tall, but it was not the tallest. Mount Ryoden was the tallest, but in order to get there, they needed to reach the summit of this mountain then take a pass through to the trail midway up on Mount Ryoden. He walked at a steady but deliberate pace. There was quite a variety among companions, but he needed to progress. In three days they would reach the cavern entrance in Mount Ryoden. It was then that the second trial would begin to bring back the Eye of Odin.

Baralai smirked as he saw Esamai killing insects with his sling. “I’d be careful if I were you. The mountain just might respond to such violence and if you kill one more of those butterflies I would have no doubt you’ll get swarmed, either by hornets or Paligen.” He chuckled to himself and looked at Paligen. It had been a joke at his expense; however he didn’t fear death from the slightly taller man with many guns. He didn’t fear death from anything. He was completely at peace. He watched ahead, as Liam walked. He wondered why he walked along. Perhaps he was like a wolf; a lone wolf. Maybe one of these nights he would get to speak to Liam personally and find out what was going on. A monarch butterfly flew out of the woods and settled on Baralai’s shoulder for a moment before lifting off back into the ski. Butterflies liked Baralai for some reason or another.

“Liam, when we get further up the mountain pay attention for wolves,” Baralai called out to the point. “It will be a full day’s journey,” he said to all of them, no one in particular, “to the start of the pass, another day crossing the pass, and a day to the cavern entrance. I don’t know how long we will be from there. Vaeda try and gather berries or other edible fruit along the way if possible. If not, don’t worry about it. I can feed all of you for months.” He smiled pleasantly, and continued up the mountain trail. The air seemed to get cooler with not but a foot towards their destination. It was not cold, but it was cool. The mountain path they were walking too was like a forest; the trail was dirt. Mount Ryoden on the other hand was all grey slate. There would be no vegetation there. Nothing ever grew on Mount Ryoden.

http://209.85.48.8/237/117/upload/p699000.pnghttp://209.85.48.8/237/117/upload/p698999.png
Garr Altima – The Wroth

“Unidentified Vessel,” the voice said again over the comm, Garr rolling his eyes just as he had the last time. “This is the Starship Goolman. You are under arrest. Power down your engines immediately.”

“Damnit,” Garr shouted, punching the weapons manifold of the Wroth with his fist. He was not quite sure what he expected that to do, but whatever it was, it did not happen. The weapons were still offline.

This had been the fourth time that the Goolman had given him the identical warning. Garr smiled briefly, glad that he wasn’t in Orion. Imperial ships were far less forgiving.

Piracy was something new to Garr, and as the current situation reminded him, he wasn’t quite good at it. A master smuggler for years, he had learned recently that with all the underworld organizations out there independent smuggling was not even close to a valuable risk-reward anymore.

And then, as if the Wroth finally took notice to heed his advice, its weapons charged. Garr leaped into the pilot’s seat, rapidly typing commands into his ship’s computer. He grinned as the Wroth fired on the Goolman, but his smile quickly inverted when the Goolman’s shields absorbed the blow, its weapons firing back.

The bridge of the Wroth was rocked with weapons fire, sending Garr careening against the floor. He landed hard against his shoulder, but rapidly scrambled to his feet, just in time to see where his heading was taking him. Cursing loudly, he grabbed hold of the controls, but to no avail, for they were unresponsive.

A crash landing would be inevitable.

As they walked, Connor observed the veiw. He had seen numerous beautiful views in his short time here, amazing sights through out the world. He thought back briefly to the planes of Deazeman as his platoon pushed on, free from attacks as the slightly backwards military was easily over whelmed by Imitoran forces. He sighed, thinking back to easier times, less complicated days.

The rest of his companions seemed colder than even he. Connor wasn't exactly a warm, open individual, and he was slightly indivisualistic, one had to be to be a sniper. But he wasn't totally closed, Baralai had been one of the first to really open him up. Like a few of the other travelers, he had seen many things that would give lessser people nightmares. He had spent days learning about a person, following there every move, almost living the same life as they did. He would get to know the person from a distance, following them, their families, as if wanting to become a friend of the person. And then, just as he started to see the person as that, a person, not a target, not a mark, but a living, breathing, human being, he would get the call to pull the triger. And just as he spent days, sometimes weeks, observing, it took only a few cruel seconds to ditch the spotting scope, draw his old custom bolt action, sight in, and send a .338 Lapua round out, a harsh, cold finger of God, and snuff out a life. Decades upon decades to create the life, five seconds to take it away. A cruel fate.

He shrugged his right shoulder, getting the sling to ease up, the but of the rifle moving up and the barrel down, similar to the angle of a three point sling. He rested his hand on the pistol grip of the rifle lightly, his finger falling along side the triger, his thumb playing with the safety as they trecked on.

The cool air didn't bother him, but he was glad he had packed a Marine fleece, the same jacket that military forces across the world appriciated working in these mountain climes. He pushed on, using only his lower legs to help walk. He wanted to conserve the energy he had till he really needed it, for a hard run, or a long vertical climb.

As they hiked, one of the travelers made a comment about being hired to protect Baralai. Hired? Connor thought briefly, wondering who had paid out a contract. He had decided to do this out of the goodness of his own heart, or at least the goodness of Baralai's heart. He wasn't quite sure. Still he pushed on, slowing his pace as he took a solid spot towards the middle of the pack.

His ear twitched as the priest called ahead to him. Purely reflexive, but inwardly he scowled nonetheless. He half glanced back over his shoulder, and acknowledged the message with a nod.

Wolves? What sort of wolves were these that would give such group as this trouble?

He sniffed the air again, continuing in his long but easy stride. At least now he knew at least some of the reasons for his selection on this journey. They needed his senses to track and warn. He could have felt slighted, but instead chose to feel pride. Someone trusted him. It was a sensation to which he was still adapting, and he was eager to rise to the occasion.

The breeze was cool and crisp, providing him with clear scents. And better, they were downwind of their immediate destination.. the better to gauge what lay ahead. Confident for now that there was no imminent threat of danger, he eyed a few of his companions again. A few non-human scents confused him, but he sensed no malice and so dismissed the matter. All answers with time.. wasn't that what the Gaelic clerics had said? Whatever they were, they were all here for the same reason. The ones which concerned him more carried the stink of death about them like a shroud.

"Excuse my boldness, sir, but...someone wants you to be safe and if they are worried for your safety, wouldn't there be dangerous threats up here?" Paligen asked robotically, the armor around his neck giving his rich basso a metallic tinge to it. "I was hired to shoot, sir." He glanced around himself to examine the surroundings and make sure the area was clear. I don't see how bad a mountain can be... Sure, he knew of avalanches, snow storms, and sub zero weather, but those did not worry him.

As Baralai turned his attention on the man slinging rocks at insects and birds, Paligen tensed up. "If you so command it, he shall die," the mercenary replied again with little emotion. At one point, he had the hobby of birdwatching, enjoying the feeling of watching the magnicent creature spread their wings and take flight. True freedom to travel where ever and whenever they wanted. However he cared for little now, only the money he was to recieve and his objectives.

He glanced up in the distance, searching intently. He could have sworn he saw something move...but there was nothing. Perhaps these mountains may be more dangerous than he expected...

"His name is Esamai," Esamai broke in, "And he will die, Paligen, even if Baralai doesn't command it. Because you and I…" He spotted a large brown thrush darting downward, "and that bird will die."

With an easy motion of the wrist, he snapped his leather sling forward. The stone sped through the air in a slight whistling noise but the thrush, whether because of chance or instinct, shifted its angle in mid-flight. The stone streaked passed it, instead hitting a mound of clover.

"Not today," Esamai concluded. He was covering his ass. Damn, stupid bird. Oh well, it sounded more deep and philosophic this way.

He turned to Paligen then grinned. He had to crane his head upwards as for some reason his companions were all giants. In fact, he appeared to be the smallest one there. Further proof that all foreigners injected growth hormones into their children. It was like grinning at a stone gargoyle. Esamai had the feeling the taller man wasn't so much born as manufactured.

"Besides, you need to conserve your ammunition," he said as he patted his machete, "That mountain doesn't play around."

Esamai moved pass Paligen to walk near Baralai. "Okay. I promise no more killing flying things if you explain to me how you're can feed us all for months. I brought rations but it seems some didn't." He pointed at the sinewy fellow that seemed to be scouting ahead. "I don't care to wake up with someone gnawing on my leg because we've run out of food and those mountains aren't going to provide us with fodder."

"Well that is my own secret," Baralai said with a smile then looked at Paligen. “You know…I will never tell you to kill someone for me.” With that they continued on. The small stop had cost them precious moments until their next stop. Their next stop would be at the falls. It was another hour before they finally reached the falls. It was a point where two waterfalls came together into a lake with a river that trailed down the side of the mountain into another water fall. Baralai took off his satchel and canteen and sat down amidst the rocks. It was noon now, and they had been traveling for about six hours. It was time to take a rest; to eat lightly, and relax. “We leave in an hour,” he said, while taking off his robes revealing tan skin and rather toned muscles. That was certainly not the upper body of a priest among other nations. Of course, as his companions knew; priests and priestesses here were a lot different than the stereotype. Underneath his robes, of course he wore grey pants with golden embroidery on the side. He dove into the water, and his white hair which had stood in place before now relaxed.

The water was colder than he expected, but none the less refreshing. He let out a soft sigh. “It’s not that bad,” he said looking at the emotionless faces of his guardians. “Oh will you guys just loosen up? It’s not about protecting me all the time. Sometimes its about having a bit of fun. Do so while we rest, because when we start moving again, its back to the whole 'guardian thing'.” He flashed his brilliant smile and dove underneath the surface. It was so hard to hate that man.

Lanes sat down on the side of a recently-fallen tree, its bark not yet rotting, and unpacked what looked like a medium-sized lunch from her backpack. She stared at it for a moment and put it away again, sighing. She didn't feel at all hungry and it confused her. They had just ascended hundreds of metres while walking thousands, and she didn't have the desire to eat a bit of food nor drink a bit of water. It made no sense.

The interactions between her companions had started to make her uneasy. Most of them seemed very quiet, perhaps even lonely, or isolated. The ones that were not so quiet seemed very violent, and Baralai was the only one that seemed to show a gram of sense and a peaceful nature. From the small man who had been wantonly killing insects and small birds to the giant man who threatened to kill anyone that got in his way 'for Baralai', they seemed to all be bizarre caricatures of egotistical parts of the conscious mind.

With no drive to eat or drink left in her, she sighed and set the pack down, also leaning against the log, and watched the water tumbling over the cliffs far above her and down into the lake where Baralai swam. The midday sun, filtering through the trees, made her uncomfortable as it hit her skin, and she frowned and sat down on the ground leaning against the fallen tree instead, in the shade provided by its thick trunk. She watched the rest of them, eating in stony silence, and wondered just what she had gotten herself into. Perhaps she should have simply asked, applied to see the Empress, the same way Baralai did. But no, her request was much more personal, more selfish. The Empress had no reason to help her and all the more reason to dislike her, to hate her, to send her away. It was better that she did this first. Which meant enduring her companions, for a start.

Connor ignored most of the convorsation, and when they came to the clearing, he found a decent purch, and dropped down, his bag next to him. He let the rifle rest across his bent legs. He did a quick look around the area, not one that he would choose for a LUP, but it would do for now. A quick dig in his ruck, and he yanked out a power bar of some random brand, and ate it slowly. He wasn't much of a talker, and wasn't one to talk unless spoken to, an odd trait for someone who had been an officer. Still, he would eventually get to know his compatriots. He relaxed slightly, and let a sort of smirk cross his face as he watched the others.

"My gods, man. What are you doing? Munching on a Snickers before securing the perimeter?" Esamai shook his head with exaggerated care, "We'd have never allowed this behavior back in the army."

With that, he walked to the edge of the lake. "You just can't get good help now-a-day," he said as he unbuckled and loosened his pants. The march had left a fine coat of sweat on his bronze skin. As he stripped to his knickers, the cool air rolling from across the water made goosebumps rise on his flesh. The curling red tattoos that covered his face also stretched across his body and his back appeared to be the abstract face of some fanged beast, the only remnant of the time he carried the name Howling Tiger.

He backed up several meters, then ran into edge of the lake pell-mell and leapt forward. The large splash as he hit the water sprayed onto the shore and sent furious ripples across the surface of the mirror clear water.

The water was icy. It jolted the lethargy of the morning's walk from his system.

"Whoooeee!" he yelled as he surfaced. Water streamed over his face as he sucked in air. He spotted the tall gargoyle of the group was still hovering at the shore.

"Hey, thanks for watching over my stuff." Esamai called. "You know, I think I saw some rabid squirrels lurking in the trees. I can see you're dying to jump in, but those nasty buggers are just plotting to rush Baralai and tear him to pieces the moment you let your guard down."

The Imitoran chuckled at the Kesshite (Kessitian?) man's comments. He did know that of all things that died, old habits were the hardest to kill. "Not much to secure," he said with a smirk. He took another bite of the power bar, watching the water. "And I'm not much a fan of the water." He thought about the irony for a moment. He had been a Marine, basically naval infantry. To not be a fan of the water was almost blasphemy. But then again, he had been in the Marines, not Naval Special Warfare. Still...

He adjusted his position, pushing his knees up more, the rifle just lying across his knees. Relaxing was something he just couldn't do. For damn three quarters of his life, he was paid not to relax. He took another pull of water from the Hydrastorm, and resigned himself to watching. It was something he was good at doing, observing and watching. It would let him learn more about his compatriots, and sometimes, in that hour, the wolf's hour, he often felt that watching others let him learn more about himself.

Whether Paligen smiled or not was a mystery, however a rattle was heard within his armored neck, that could be taken as a chuckle. "I do suppose we all have to die sometimes. "It is good to meet you, Esamai."

"Yes sir. That is understandable," Paligen replied to Baralai as he was addressed again. He was, after all, here to protect the man, not kill things that he was told to. I'm to used to assassin work...

As break time began, Paligen searched around a bit, before deciding to find out a bit more about the people he was to work with.

As he passed through logs, rocks, and flowers, he heard the man named Esamai dived into the water, sending waves rippling forth from the impact. He watched the childlike man as commented on rabid squirrels and himself wanting to dive in as well.

As a matter of fact, it wasn't such a bad idea. Paligen hadn't swam in many years and was anxious to feel the freedom under the water that he'd been missing. However, he had no idea how well he could swim now. It had been so long ago since he had needed to, and even longer since he'd done it for fun.

"You are right, Esamai. I must keep the pool clean of rabid squerrels and their ilk. They are truly viscious disease-ridden creatures. However I also know they are blind due to their plague remnants. They go by sound...and you are the loudest one here at the moment. But do not fret, I am here to help."

With that, the man let out a metallic edgy noise that could have been a chuckle, before continuing his walk, stopping by a rather troubled looking woman. "You are not hungry either?" his voice rang out as she looked off at Baralai. He had noticed she was the last one to leave her shelter and very quiet along the journey.

Spending the morning gathering herbs, berries, and other edible items, Vaeda had not spent much time with the group itself. Traveling mostly behind them, she filled handmade bag with an alluring variety before they reached lake, not taking her chances on waiting until later to gather food.

As she reached the lake a few minutes after the others, she watched from a fair distance Baralai swim in the lake. "He is at home in this land," she thought to herself, observing the natural interactions and fluid movements he seemed to make. Breaking her again from her thoughts, a loud splash jolted her back to present situation.

She smiled at them all, each their own person working together. Tired from the weight of her bags, she placed them on the ground, feeling the instant relief of weight; removing her fur cloak, the breeze seemed so refreshing and cool and she relished in the moment briefly. The sight of the sparkling water seemed to call for her. Stripping down, she placed her clothes and boots in a pile before running toward the lake. She jumped into the air and dove beneath the cold water's surface, feeling her bare skin almost instantly freeze....a feeling she had to admit was very soothing.

Breaking the surface, she looked for Baralai, wondering where he had gotten to, but instead found another man she had not known. Swimming to Esamai, she treaded the waters, the amber in crystal blue eyes staring into his. "Hello sir. My name is Vaeda Desanti. What is your name?" she asked pleasantly, smiling as she introduced herself.

She made it a point to introduce herself to all the others at some point of another during the trip; after all, she felt it was better to know the people she would be traveling with since they all seemed so very different from her.

Before he could answer though, a mischievous grin spread across her face, as she brought her hand around and splashed him. "Think fast!" she giggled, diving below the surface quickly to avoid any repercussions of her actions.

Liam dismissed the short man's comment, but it had irked him for some short while. There just wasn't enough going on to distract his mind from the quiet jab.

As the group neared a resting point, some of the others broke off to socialize with one another. There was friendly and barely friendly bickering, horseplay.. all the things he would expect from the group. It was funny how most people were really the same at some deep level. He smiled thinly as a woman - was her name Vaeda? - dove into the clear water and watched the small group nearby for a time. But he wasn't ready to meet them all yet, and certainly not in a group setting. Not yet. He was still somewhat distrustful. Not of their motives, but of their mindset.

Continuing past the little pool, he crouched on a patch of rocky ground only a short distance from the main group. He eyed the couple brooding over an uneaten lunch, and nearly considered a hunt for himself but decided he could wait. He shared their concern. Something had been needling at him, festering in the back of his mind. It was the scent of this whole place. The breeze was somehow too clean. It smelled too ordinary. It made him nervous. He was about to get up and return to the group when something caught his eye. A track in the dry mud. It could have been anything really... anything that was big. The print itself was too old to clearly identify, and the water had long ago washed away the scent. A mystery. A mystery with a print nearly the size of his own paw. Not tense, but not quite calm either, he eyed the trees. Everything seemed normal.

Shaking off the threads of unease, he worked the stiffness out of his neck and edged closer to the rest of the group. But there was something else. Some tiny sound or instinct that occassionally drew his gaze skyward, only to meet the open air.

Lanes looked up at the man, who had nearly walked past her before stopping and turning. He was quite an imposing figure. Had she been standing, he would have been nearly a full foot taller than her. As it was, she was seated, and he seemed unnaturally tall. She swallowed unconsciously. Sitting some way from the others was not where she had imagined her first meeting with this man. He frightened her, and she knew he could tell it, no matter how much she tried to disguise it.

"No," she said passively and quietly, shaking her head slightly. "I'm not hungry. I wasn't hungry for breakfast either." She opened her mouth and took a breath to keep talking, but then realized the was about to spill her entire life story and her hunger woes to this man, who she had never met and who intimidated her so, and instead she just shut her mouth and looked down, past him. "I'm not hungry," she said again, quietly.

"With most people I have known, one should not hike up a mountain with an empty stomach," Paligen replied calmly, remaining as still as a statue. He noticed her tense up, seeming to be slightly uneasy around him. Paligen turned away to glance at those that were swimming next to Baralai, before looking back at the woman in front of him. Deciding that perhaps making himself seem a bit shorter, he lowered himself into a crouch and took off his hood, reveaing pale skin, and pitch black goggles that covered his eyes. His medium-short hair was black and spiked- seemingly without hair gel- with a few front spikes pointing downwards from his face.

"I'm sorry," Paligen began, his voice sounding more natural. "I am Vishniov Paligen. Or as people have called me thus far: Paligen." He brought his hand out in front of him to shake hers, although he wasn't sure if she would shake it considering she did seem rather scared. "Is something disgusting in your food that would prevent you from eating it?"

She blinked in surprise. She had certainly not been expecting this. Seeing the very unexpected display of kindness, she smiled warmly and reached out with her right hand to shake his. "My name is Lanes Caine," she replied, "but just Lanes is more than enough." She looked down at the backpack full of food, and sighed. "No, there's nothing wrong with the food. I'm just not hungry, that's all. And yes, I know I shouldn't climb a mountain on an empty stomach," she conceded, "but I can't help it. I can't eat this food unless I'm hungry. It's good food, though. You want some?"

She suddenly found herself wishing she had not invited him to eat with her. He seemed nice enough, but there was something about him that turned her off. It was probably just nerves, and she dismissed it as such. She couldn't recall ever climbing a mountain before - clearly recall, that is - and she was probably just nervous.

"Lanes, Pleased to meet you," Paligen acknowledged, nodding his head. As she invited him to eat with her, he remained silent for a few seconds. He couldn't help but notice two very distinct canines that were much larger than the rest of her teeth. A vampire? he asked himself, noticing she was a bit paler than the others- but then again, so was he. Underneath his gloves, he could certainly feel something cold

He would have to keep a watchful eye on her. "No thank you. I am not hungry either, however I did eat breakfast. Perhaps you are just nervous about this whole trip. Try to eat atleast something small. I would not want to see you pass out on the way and I am certain that Baralai would not either."

"Is it typical to not be hungry for breakfast and lunch?"

She nodded sadly. "Yes, it's pretty typical. I don't know why. For quite some time now, I've felt no desire to eat anything at all." She sighed, and reached down for the bag at the top of her backpack which contained the sandwich she had made earlier. "I think you're right. I'll try and eat something anyway," she said, giving him a smile. When she tried to bite into the sandwich, though, her face scrunched up and she paused, her long teeth halfway into the sandwich. She stopped, withdrew from the half-hearted bite, and replaced the sandwich. "No," she admitted. "It's no good. But thank you anyway."

Paligen cocked his head lightly to the side, confirming her elongated teeth. She had not yet commented on it. Perhaps she didn't want anyone to know? Then again, she wasn't doing a good job of covering it up.

"May I take a look at that sandwich, Lanes?" He opened up his metallic palm in front of her. He wasn't sure how he would ask her if she was a vampire without sounding rude or ignorant. He certainly didn't want her to feel an outcast, but if she didn't know- what if she wanted to know?

She swallowed nervously. His tone had been more commanding than she expected. Perhaps he had decided to eat lunch with her after all, and he simply didn't know how to say so politely. She smiled at him and set the sandwich in his hand. "Go right ahead," she said. "There's nothing wrong with it, I don't think, I'm just not hungry." He's very ... forward. Unsurprising, given how he was acting earlier - threatening to kill people right in front of them, that sort of thing. What if he's trying to kill me? Stupid. Then he wouldn't be acting so nicely. He'd just shoot me dead.

"That was an unfair, unprovoked attack. My revenge with be swift and su-aaah! You little bugger!" Esamai dove under the water. Beat a sailor while swimming? Not likely. He saw her pale legs churning water and began to stalk her. Grabbing a hold of her ankle but always letting her wriggle her way out. Okay, sometimes he didn't need to let her, but she was as slippery as an eel so that didn't count.

He surfaced again, trying a different trick. There was chattering on the beach and he seemed to stare at the others, but in truth he constantly looked out of the corner of his eyes. Esamai would see if she could resist trying to get the best of him a second time.

Paligen gently took the sandwich and brought it up to his face, examing it, feeling it, even taking a small whiff of it. It seemed relatively safe and was perhaps a tasty sandwich. "So then, what are your favorite foods, considering sandwiches don't seem to be so much that," he asked as small creases formed near his cheeks- perhaps dimples of a smile, perhaps old scars from a frown. Yet his voice was not negative, or atleast he did not make it so.

Her eyes lit up for a moment. "I used to love eating waffles," she said, then her eyes dimmed a bit again. "But for years I haven't been able to stomach them. And ... I like fresh fruit, but again, I've been having some trouble eating it for a while." She looked puzzled, and looked up at him, her face turning even paler, her eyes wide. "I can't remember eating anything for weeks," she said in a slightly frightened voice. "I just don't get hungry, so I don't eat. Is that ... is there something wrong with me? Am I dying or something?" She was suddenly frightened, not of him, but of whatever was causing this bizarre symptom.

Paligen was quiet for a bit, debating whether he should tell her what he assumed she was or not. Would she believe him? Would she hate him for it? Would she tell him to get out? His mind was a flurry of questions. But only one outcome.

"You are not dead, Lanes. If you were dead, you wouldn't be talking to me would you?"

He trudged a little closer, her face fully reflected off his dark goggles. "Lanes, I do however, believe you to be someone unique. Would you believe me if I said you were a vampire?" he asked. Perhaps a bit blunt and out in the open...but he didn't want her to go without knowing. What if someone tried to kill her because of it? But how would that fix the eating problem? Vampires feed...

She gave him a quizzical look. "No, I wouldn't," she replied, "and I don't. I would remember something like that. I would remember. Look," she said, her voice growing heated as she pointed to her mouth, where a set of fangs was obviously protruding from her upper teeth. "I don't have any fangs. I've ... I've never drunk any blood, I don't have a desire to, I can't do any of that fancy vampire stuff, like turning into bats, or mist, or ..." she trailed off, then looked back at him pointedly. "I'm not a vampire. I'm just not hungry. There has to be some other explanation."

Peligen watched as she pointed out her fangs, which clearly jutted a ways out from her normal teeth. He raised an eyebrow as he continued to listen as she tried to defend herself. Either she was a good actor...or she was delusional.

He immediately began to think of a few tests she could perform to possibly prove she was a vampire, however he wasn't sure how far he could go before she truly lost her temper or patience. But Paligen felt he was doing the right thing in helping her realize what she was.

"Lanes, may you do something for me? Open your mouth and feel your teeth. Just glide your finger over them and stop when you feel a longer tooth or set of teeth," he said calmly.

She opened her mouth slightly and silently raised a finger, running it slowly over her teeth. It suddenly reached the side of one of her elongated canines, and she stopped dead. Her eyes widened, and she snapped her mouth shut and stared up at him. "What's happened to me?" she whispered. "What the hell is ... what's ... did you do something to me?" She looked down, her eyes filled with sorrow and almost with tears, and dropped her hand down to the ground, where they rested against it. "I ... I don't know how this could have happened. What has happened. I just ... I thought ..." she looked up at him again. "Please don't tell anyone," she pleaded. "I don't want them thinking ..." she stopped and looked down at the ground again. "I'm not a vampire," she whispered. "This isn't possible."

Paligen's cheeks creased again as she seemed to break down. "Lanes, I can assure you I did nothing to you. As my knowledge of vampires is fairly limited, I do know I would need to feed you my own blood."

As she asked him not to tell anyone, the stoic guardian let her droop her head a bit before gently placing his metallic hand under her chin. The gauntlet itself felt rather smooth to the touch, not quite what one would expect. With care, he gently pushed her up to look him straight in the goggles before raising his other hand, bringing it to one side of his mouth area, closing his fist, and slowly moving it to the other side, like a zipper. "Your secret is safe with me," he replied quietly. His mind briefly scanned for some sort of words of comfort, however his long years of solitude has slowly limited the selection to barely anything at all.

"Lanes, do not worry. You are in good hands. Baralai won't let anyone harm you and I have no doubt the others won't want to harm you. You are safe with us."

Finally fleeing from Esamai, laughing to herself at their fun, she surfaced and looked over to him. He seemed distracted, staring at two others talking quietly amid themselves.

Diving beneath the surface again, she scanned the water, looking for fish. A small school or shimmering silver streaks swam past and she smiled to herself at how collective they were; she always had enjoyed the sight of nature and well they worked together.

Resurfacing, she took another breath, looking about the area. The water had grown on her and she no longer felt the water as cold, but now soothing and almost warm.

But where was Baralai? she wondered to herself, having not taken notice to him since she entered the water. Scanning the waters, she did not see him still, and she decided once again to dive beneath....maybe he was below the surface.

Esamai swam lazily around the lake a few times after he realized the woman had stopped playing. 'The woman.' What was her name again? Now that he thought of it, he hadn't bothered asking the others their names either. Peligrin was speaking with the other 'the woman.' He stared at her while she fished around her mouth for something. The sniper had finished eating and the scout had wandered off. Didn't he know anyone's name? He'd have to fix that sooner or later.

It would have to be later. He crawled out onto a large, flat rock that overhung the lake and stretched out. The sun and the warm stone dried him off and he began to half doze. He awoke with a jolt then glance around. For some reason, he expected to find the others all gone along with his gear. Esamai stretched then returned to his clothing. The bottoms of his barefeet were so black and hard that he barely felt the small stones and grasses as he stepped on them.

Esamai re-dressed quickly then dug a rice ball out of his pack.

"The day isn't getting any longer," he said loudly enough for his voice to carry. Irritation carried in his tone, but it had little to do with the time. The back of his neck prickled with a sudden, disturbing feeling.

Slinging his travel pack behind him, he marched back toward the direction of the road. Stopped, looked back. He knew the others wouldn't follow him but that didn't stop him from hovering at the edge of the lake front like a father waiting for his kids to get back in the van.

The feeling of unease was subtle, but he could not shake it. Liam found that more irritating than the actual feeling itself. Worse, a few of the others felt it. He could smell it on them. It wasn't the smell of fear persay, but it had similar qualities. What had been horseplay only a few moments ago was now more subdued and the group as a whole was more sullen. The tribal warrior was practically pacing, and ready to move again, waiting for the others to join him. Liam could agree to that. He glanced over the clearing to ensure nothing was there, and headed for the tattooed hunter. He didn't carry himself as if he were nervous, only as if he were alert to the surroundings. When he was close enough to avoid shouting, he glanced about almost warily, then made eye contact so the man would know what he was up to. When he spoke, his tone was low, almost conspiratorial.

"Hey.. do you know anything about these wolves the priest mentioned?"

Easami noticed the scout as he approached. This was the first time he'd seen Liam close up as he, more than any other, seemed to avoid the group. There was a lean alertness about him. His dark eyes scanned the land around the group with an intensity that seemed far more instinctual than the polished and trained gaze of the sniper. Easami had seen that look before, in men who spent too much time alone in the deep wilderness.

The man's question cut closer to the reason for Easami being here than he could have known. Easami crossed his arms, trying to decide what to tell him.

"Among my people," he begin, "When a boy wishes to claim his manhood, he goes on a spirit-hunt. He drinks a brew made from incaiqi and follows the trail the spirits set for him. Though his path begins in at our village, a spirit-trail can take one to different lands, different worlds even. At the end of the trail is a beast he must kill alone, and then bring back a token as proof of his skill and courage."

"If these wolves are the ones I have heard stories of, and I believe they are, then they are unlike any natural beast. They are black and monstrous. They are human in their cunning and inhuman in their bloodlust."

"Does that answer your question?"

Lanes had sat in silence for some time now, her newfound fangs poking her lower lip occasionally, and still she could not believe it. She couldn't remember it happening, couldn't remember ever doing anything a vampire would do. It didn't make any sense. She wouldn't believe it, if Paligen hadn't shown her so explicitly. Now, she was so absorbed in her own sense o self-wonder and self-revulsion, that she didn't even know if he was still there beside her. She sat, her knees up and her arms wrapped around them, staring off into the woods. What was she going to do?

Suddenly startled back to reality, she noticed most of the others had finished their various lunches and were standing around or sitting around, wondering what to do next or where to go. It seemed most of them were waiting on their intrepid leader, Baralai, to emerge from wherever he had gone and lead them on in their trek. She sighed and looked at her bag, filled with mostly food, and considered leaving it there, sitting on the ground, and never thinking of it again. But something in her, something clinging to the feeble hope that somehow, somehow Paligen was wrong, made her repack it - all of it - and close it again. With that done, and the trees blocking the sun from hitting her skin, she sat down on the log she had originally set herself upon, and waited for Baralai to come back, and lead them on to wherever they would stop next.

Easami noticed the scout as he approached. This was the first time he'd seen Liam close up as he, more than any other, seemed to avoid the group. There was a lean alertness about him. His dark eyes scanned the land around the group with an intensity that seemed far more instinctual than the polished and trained gaze of the sniper. Easami had seen that look before, in men who spent too much time alone in the deep wilderness.

The man's question cut closer to the reason for Easami being here than he could have known. Easami crossed his arms, trying to decide what to tell him.

"Among my people," he begin, "When a boy wishes to claim his manhood, he goes on a spirit-hunt. He drinks a brew made from incaiqi and follows the trail the spirits set for him. Though his path begins in at our village, a spirit-trail can take one to different lands, different worlds even. At the end of the trail is a beast he must kill alone, and then bring back a token as proof of his skill and courage."

"If these wolves are the ones I have heard stories of, and I believe they are, then they are unlike any natural beast. They are black and monstrous. They are human in their cunning and inhuman in their bloodlust."

"Does that answer your question?"

He grunted, a sort of dry sound in his throat. It wasn't exactly the answer he had been looking for. What exactly had he been looking for? He shifted his weight lightly, glancing over the other man's shoulder as he absorbed the information.

"So they're not the same."

He cracked the vertibre in his neck with a slight rolling motion of his head, and stepped off. Brushing lightly past the other man, he headed for the main road to look for more signs. Surely, the sole print he'd found in the mud by the rocks couldn't be the only one. Yes, it was very old, but any sign would do. He hesitated to venture too far from the group, however. The wind had shifted, and instead of blowing down the entire group, the breeze traveled sidelong against them. Not necessarily a hinderance, but he would have more trouble smelling anything on that breeze. He glanced back, slightly. The hunter was still nearby.

"Whatever is out there.. it's big."

His tone was still low. He didn't want to alarm the others if they drifted within earshot.

Baralai emerged from the water. A few conversations had sprouted which he was glad to see, but there was no time to waste. He climbed up onto the bank and took his robes. His white hair was matted down from the weight of the water, and the droplets on his skin glistened across his muscles in the sunlight. It was high noon. It was time to leave. “Let’s go,” he called out, and waited until his skin dried to slip on his robes. It was time to get to the summit, and after that; rest for the night. They would then set off again early for Mount Ryoden.

Connor nodded as he pushed himself up from his post. He reslung the rifle, letting it catch the sling and hang loosely around his chest. It wasn't a fancy sling, just a two pointer with mounts towards the front of the grip and a wrap around the stock. There were a multitude of slings, two and three pointers, Chalker units, and more that he could have gone with, but the two pointer served his purpose well, and it was easy to unsling the rifle when he needed to go prone, or shoot from a differente angle.

Let’s go.

"Hooah," Connor replied, moving towards the already up and out scout and the joker from earlier. The rest had been just enough for him to work the kinks out of his system, and now he was ready for a good long hike. "Let's rool 'em out," he said, to no one inparticular.

Lanes, thoroughly depressed, was probably the last to stand up as Baralai announced his intention to go. She waited until he actually started walking, and upon catching a look from one of the others - it might have been Paligen, alarmed, but she didn't pay enough attention to tell - she sighed, stood up, threw her pack on her back, and assumed a natural position at the back of the pack, periodically lagging behind and catching up. She no longer wanted to be there. She no longer wanted to be doing anything. This new revelation had destroyed everything she had thought, everything she had wanted. Her mind hurt like hell, and it felt as if it was burning. She could almost remember something, but even just the half-hearted almost-feeling of what it was made her shudder and made her want to scream in terror and pain. She tried to shut it off, but it built and built. The more she thought about the fact that she was, in fact, a vampire, the more she could feel the pressure building up inside her.

She wanted it to go away. She wanted them to go away. She just wanted to be alone. For the first time in her life, she wanted to forget.

When Vaeda had resurfaced again, the group was departing. She felt almost saddened to be leaving the water, but she reminded herself that was not here for fun and games. Swiftly and quietly, she pulled herself with ease out of the water, walking to her belongings.

The water dripped from her long auburn hair, trickling down her back and the back of her legs causing her to shudder time to time as another drop followed the path down. Picking up her clothing, she shoved them into her bag while hastily tying the strings of her boots in a knot before throwing them over her shoulders with the other bags. Taking the fur, she shoved it haphazardly into the straps of one of her bags before taking off. Her bags seemed so much heavier now, taking many attempts to readjust them to a comfortable position.

Again she followed slightly behind the group, periodically straying from the path to investigate for any edible fruits or plants. Taking handfuls of mostly berries here and there, she caught up with another woman who walked slowly behind the others.

Although normally reserved and vaguely interested with human emotions, she noticed this woman isolating herself from the others.

Walking up behind her, she placed her hand on the woman's shoulder. "You appear to be troubled. Do you want to talk?" Vaeda asked softly and quietly as to not draw attention to them.

Paligen let her sulk in peace, unsure if he had caused her discomfort. She was no longer speaking and it seemed as though she didn't wish to.

As Baralai called them to get going, he nodded and sat up. "Do not fret about it, Lanes. Think of it as a gift to use for helping. I have no doubt it can come in quite handy."

With that, he walked towards the two seeming to scout the area. One of them was the goofball who spoke earlier, the other one he hadn't the pleasure to meet yet.

He paused to make sure everyone was still with them and to keep his eye on the one he was hired to protect.

Lanes jumped at the other woman's touch and turned to face her abruptly as she instinctively shrugged off her hand, terrified, and stopping for a moment before carrying on walking with her head turned towards the other woman. "No ..." she said, unsure of what to say, but speaking in a subdued tone so as not to show the fangs that she now knew her mouth displayed. Her head burned, her mind hurt, and she found it very hard to think straight, a flood of strange, unconnected, and all horrific images and scenes running through her mind at a breakneck pace. "No... No, I'm fine," she said after a slight pause, managing a weak smile in spite of everything. She decided to promptly change the subject.

"I didn't catch your name earlier," she said, trying her hardest to maintain a cheerful tone of voice. "I'm Lanes."

Vaeda smiled calmly, "Vaeda. My name's Vaeda Desanti. I'm sorry for startling you Lanes. You looked withdrawn and I just wanted to see if you needed anything. I have these berries; they may not actually make you feel better, but they taste good and that may lift your spirits some."

Searching through one of her bags quickly, she retreived a small handful of bright red berries and extended them to Lanes. "Would you like some?" she asked politely, smiling the while, trying not to come off as overbearing.

Liam watched Connor as he approached, followed at varying intervals by the rest of the group. Finally, they were moving again. He was more than ready. As the party ambled back onto the road, he waited until they had more or less grouped up again before resuming the point position. It had not escaped his attention that they were begining to splinter into smaller sects. So long as this didn't turn into avoidance, they'd be fine. He had eyed the way Connor casually slung his weapon, smiling grimly. The man was comfortable with firearms, that much was painfully obvious. But it was also an asset, should they find themselves in the thick of things. Liam just hopped the man knew a little restraint.

As he strode easily along, he was slowly developing something rather like confidence. He was not quite as distrustful of his companians as he had been earlier in the day. But he was also watchful, especially as the path began a sharper incline towards the summit. He leaned forward slightly, reducing the strain on his legs.

((OOC:
*holds a little bible*
Call of the Faith - loving wife and mother. We commit your body to the soil and the eternal grace of our Father who art in Heaven.

Ashes to ashes.
Dust to dust.
I hate to say it,
but this thread is a bust.

Amen.

*weeps a little as thread casket is lowered into the ground*))