Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Chronicles of Obelus: Journey to the North (Full)

Vikne scoffed, his construct snarled. "Now this I know is a fabrication, spin your web of lies as you please, I am unmoved." Claimed he, sending his beast forth. The magic creature leapt and tore down a poor unready merman, turning to face a few more.

The shaman would be the first to violate their fragile armistice. With a swift motion of his staff, he sent a bolt of jagged ice at the princess, aimed at her stomach. He whirled around, facing a pair of the merman. He began to ready another spell, however it simmered to nothingness. As Vikne's magic faded a shot of crimson light emanated throughout his arm, beginning at his shoulder. He dropped his staff and cried out.

The shaman fell to his knees, retrieving his staff. He forced himself slowly up, distracted long enough to allow a merman a stealthy approach. A heavy overhead strike would have sent him to his grave, had he not clumsily slipped to the right. Vikne stood tall, using his staff as a shield. The rod shattered swiftly, sending both the mage and merman sprawling in a terrible flash of energy.

He struck the ground hard, hanging onto consciousness with all his might. The red wave from before again radiated throughout him, though it spread this time to his chest and further down his arm. Vikne was struck with aparalysis, unable to struggle against any outside influence.

Alicia couldn’t move, she couldn’t bring herself to. She felt immense guilt, horror, and hatred towards herself.

The world around her was a blur, it wasn’t until she saw Vikne fall that she forced herself out of her trance.

She decided to renew her stance and fight back.

Now wasn’t the time for her to throw a pity party. Lozita is gone, she needed to move on now. She didn’t have time for her thoughts to be bothering her.

She focused on slashing down as many Mers as possible. Not noticing how her body trembled with each swing, or how she wasn’t dodging as much of the Mer’s attacks as she should’ve.

She recklessly slashed a path through the circle of Mers surrounding her, some puncture wounds appearing on her arms and shoulders.

She ran towards Vikne, and stood above him protectively.

She grinned wolfishly, “Hey, not our fault you couldn’t protect your beloved Queen like you should’ve.” She taunted a Mer who was trying to make a suicidal attack towards Vikne.

She didn’t bother dodging the fork spear that pierced her shoulder. She just stabbed the enraged Mer and watched him burn away.

“But hey, at least you’ll join her! Isn’t that nice~?” She laughed and tightened her grip on her scimitar. She resumed her protective stance over Vikne, ready to taunt and attack any Mer who tried to get near the shaman.

She noticed her words held a bitter and slightly demented feel to it. She really wanted to battle to be over now, she was starting to feel the blood loss take a toll on her. And she didn’t want the people on board to see anymore of this side of her. It was quite an ugly side of her that she wished she could easily destroy.

But, like she failed to save Lozita, she’ll probably fail to control herself.

“One thing at a time,” she whispered to herself and forced herself to keep fighting. She made an effort to dodge a little at least. She’ll deal with her damaged psyche later. She needed to make sure everyone stayed alive first, including herself.

The new name rings through the elf's ears. Though there's a subtle grin upon her lips twisting her cheeks upwards, her eyes seem indifferent; even as she lifts her dagger, then her small axe in preparation to defend herself. They call for her blood and she prepares herself for the possibilities. There is a faint, obscured emotion that rushes along her face when the man says he won't let the merfolk have her. She waits longer, like a cat deciding on the perfect time to attack a mouse.

Vikne kills the princess in an impressive display of magic. Before the body can land firmly upon the deck; she is off. Zamora uses her small figure and immense agility to run like a madman, no -- like an Alicia, through the crowds and murder anything with a fish tail. She holds no mercy, no joy as she continues to move through the ranks, dodging, cutting, and hacking with the nimbleness and grace of a dancer. Her figure is swift enough to prevent any possibility of being surrounded, should the merfolk even have wanted to try the maneuver in the first place. Though there's always a chance of her being hit in an unintentional and brief window, the odds are slim.

For all her prowess as a warrior, she has little to no social skills. It never occurs to her to try to help the others. In her flighty, nearly eccentric mind she figures they'll live of they'll die, the same as animals.

Varen stood, surrounded by mermen, all eager for his blood, all driven insane by the deaths that had happened. Peace could not be achieved; therefore, the mermen had chosen to die. A pity- Varen was not a cold-blooded killer. Yet it seemed as if the deck would become stained blue.

Varen quickly changed his sword into a whip by gathering to make extra material. The shadows wouldn't hurt a thing, but the black mercury at the tip of this whip would. It would also provide Varen with some space to cast some spells. He began chanting in that language of shadows.

Darkness curled from the shadows created by the boat, the bodies, and by the warriors themselves rose up, and formed spiked tentacles, which each one promptly stabbed their respective mermen through the hearts. Almost a score died. With this major spell, however, Varen felt his energy decrease. He could still fight, and cast spells, but he had to be cautious.

Zamora's shadow rippled, and Elyzia crossed the deck, and merged into Varen's shadow. Understandable: Elyzia was anxious about Varen. He was her companion. Still, he kept her in reserve, until he truly needed her.

As more mermen drew near, he changed his mercury back into a sword. After stabbing a merman that charged him, he slinked into the shadows, and shadow walked to a nearby patch of darkness, where he blended in. Whilst he was hidden there, he began quietly chanting spells that made the mer men's sight distorted and clouded, making their strikes less true.

The Princess' call to armistice had failed. Her people, many of them in fact, still called for Zamora's head, and some even called the Princess herself a coward. Lolu're pitied the bubbled youth, yet she wouldn't move to protect her. As she still saw it, the Sea Creatures and their Princess were her enemies, and she would sooner cut them down then stand idly now.

Dalitso caught her attention, and she looked at the man. Her heart was pained for him, even though he had the strength to continue on. She recalled the loss of her own mother, and how she had attacked out of pure rage. It spoke volumes of the self-control the man had, and she had nothing but the utmost respect for him. She resisted flushing when he called her My Centauress, it would be bad form to fall apart now.

The Princess' words were confusing, and she did not yet have a chance to dwell more on them when the shaman acted. He was unsure if the spell had worked, for she had turned to look at him when he whirled around as well. Something was happening to the shaman that the woman did not understand, yet she quickly followed Alicia when the girl had suddenly moved. Her bow was lifted, particularly at the offender who had the absolute gall to stab her charge in the shoulder. The girls' words were disturbing, but Lolu're remembered how she laughed in the face of the overseers she had killed who did nothing to stop her mothers death. Delirium...

Since Alicia was protecting the fallen Vikne, she watches Zamora finish the princess off just as she had killed the Queen. The others were doing well to fight, Varen swinging around a sword and changing it into a whip, so Lolu're decided not to fight. Vikne was in trouble, and she was unsure if her healing skills could even help the man lying on the deck. But she had to try...she had to be useful somehow.

"Alicia...please ensure I am not disturbed..." Her tone was grave and her eyes were on the shaman. She wanted to keep the girl close without making it seem like Cia needed a chaperone; the girl has proven numerous times she could hold her own. But Lolu're needed to focus her healing abilities, which would leave her a very large target for the enemy. Without giving the girl a chance to agree or decline, the Centauress laid down as to get closer to the shaman. She ghosts her hand over his chest, trying to see if she could even feel what was going on with him. She could heal physical wounds well enough, and even some magically afflicted ones. But if the injury or whatever was going on was magic itself causing the problem...she wasn't sure she could do it.

The last thing Dalitso remembered, he was trying to save the princess. But then the force of her own kin had overwhelmed the situation. They were poking and stabbing at the protective bubble, begging for her to come out and do something. Foam spat from their mouths and it was more fear seen in their eyes than anger.

Thus finally when the young liege decided to remove herself from the area of protection, she chose to speak in her native tounge; a dialect Dalitso could not interpret. It did not end well as a bolt of jagged ice was launched inside her underdeveloped torso. The princess flew back and snapped her neck on the mast pole. Blue liquid sprayed Dalitso’s face like a wave in the ocean.

The mermen yelled in rage, lifting their spears in bloodlust. More came on board; piling on the ship like tuna; calling for the Shaman and the Queen Slayer’s heads.

“The Mad Shaman! He’s mad! Kill him!” They yelled. His reputation now traveling from land to sea.

Zamora went on a killing spree, cutting up mer left and right. Varen was tearing limbs off with his enchanted whip and for a moment it looked like the mermen were blind and unable to see anything—striking wildly at the air. Then the gypsies fenced and cut mermen down by the dozen. Alicia had even left his side cutting her way through the circle—ashes and fire trailing behind her. Chi blew Dalitso a kiss playfully, wiggling her tigeress tendrils; only to hack into the neck of one merman, with her claws; he pleaded and begged with his hands until his vocal cords were severed and his head came loose from his broad shoulders.

It was madness—utter chaos. The only eyes he could look into that were sane, was his Centauresses. He stayed close to Lolu’re to check on Alicia and Vikne, whose crystallized wolf familiar was still howling and tearing screaming mermen apart.

Those merman who were smart would retreat. Over a hundred bodies lay dead on the Golden Salamander surface, everything covered in sticky azul. Nahita was collecting tails, and Lances’ crew went to work, tossing the dead off board.

“Maybe you should step away from him. Let Vikne figure this out. His power is unpredictable.” Dalitso softly said to Lolu’re and Alicia. “The fight is over. Last thing we want is the shaman to destroy all of us.” He wisely pulled Alicia by the arm and kept her back. He offered his hand for Lolu’re to hold and they would walk away together.

Once they were all in a good distance from the shamans madness, Dalitso fell to his behind exhausted. He observed the sky and noticed that it was nearly dawn.

They had been at this all night. And the sea now understood that this ship was seriously dangerous. He hoped that the remaining part of their trip on water can be a calm one so they can all relax and try to get some rest before finding their destination.

Sounds of the aftermath permeated the air. The shuffling of sailors and the ever eerie silence. The conflict had ended as abuptly as it had moments ago. It was a jarring change in pace.

The shaman began to cough violently, forcing his upper body forward. His sudden ailment had subsided, the glow entirely faded. Vikne slowly picked himself from the ground, grunting and cursing as he regained his footing.

After a moment he was upright again, winded, but otherwise intact. Vikne began checking himself for any grave wounds, but when his gaze turned to his arm, the color deained from his face. Even as the loght passed it left a grim mark. A forking crimson tendril stained his arm, its ends lapping at his wrists. Swiftly the man concealed the mark with his sleeve. Vikne determined to conceal his fear, but it was clear. Something was amiss.

The shaman looked up, every member of the caravan had distanced from him, but how could they know his affliction. Perhaps they didn't, and simply were in fear of his display of foolishness prior.

"Did I hit another one of us?" He said with a weak chuckle. He surveyed the deck a second time. A gypsy woman had been slain, and hundreds of merman's warm corpses lined the deck.

"Perhaps rest would do us all good friends." He paused. "Goodnight." Vikne made for his quarters without another word.

Indeed, it was wise of Dalitso to pull Alicia by the arm and hold her back. For she would’ve tried to distance herself from the very man who saved her. She never had to deal with the loss of an important life with anyone else before. Being a slave meant for the most part, being in a cage with complete strangers.

In that kind of situation, she didn’t get close to any other slave because you never know who you may be facing in the pit.

The shaman had lost control of himself earlier, Lolu’re had to heal the man before he succumbed to his wounds. It was bad enough they lost Lozita, Alicia would probably go insane if they lost Vikne too.

Afterall, she’d love to continue seeing his magic tricks.

When Dalitso sat down, Alicia couldn’t bring herself to follow suit. She couldn’t even bring herself to meet his eyes. She didn’t feel worthy after the display she had shown him. She keep her gaze to the skies, and crossed her arms. She leaned her back on the taffrail. She didn’t want to show anyone even more weakness from her.

Soon the adrenaline pumping through her viens began wearing off, she began to feel some fatigue ensnare her.

Sleeping was never a blessing for her, it always brought nightmares in its wake. She needed to do something, anything to get herself to stay awake. She didn’t want to sleep for awhile, not yet.

“...Are you two alright?” She asked finally after a bit of silence. She continued gazing up at the sky, as she didn’t want to see the ocean behind her nor the eyes of her comrades beside her.

She used one hand to grip the pommel of her scimitar for comfort while she waited for a response.

If she had been a normal elf, she would definitely be tired after a night of merciless fighting. At some point her instincts would have faltered and she would have become an easy target. It's only in the last hour that she begins to move more sluggishly. Step after step, her axe and dagger work together at a calm and consistent pace. When the last of the merpeople have fallen, the woman turns and looks across the deck. There are a few tears in her dark clothes and some blood from wounds taken, but none seem to bother her. Zamora's strawberry blonde hair has come unbound; thanks to the constant motion that comes with murder.

She seems quite surprised to see the sun rising. Knowledge of just how long it had been makes her finally begin to feel as exhausted as she should. The light pull of magic can be felt as the elf slides her hand over her blades. The blood appears to slide off of it's own accord and pile at her feet. Content, she ascends the crow's nest once more. Her first order of business is to sniff her wounds for poison. Should they not carry any taint to them, she leans back against the mast, sits, and falls into a deep doze.

Varen gazed across the scene of carnage. Such a pointless waste of lives. He wouldn't be surprised if this boat would be haunted by either shades or ghosts. The emotions soaked into the wood of the boat, staining it forever. The stain isn't also just in the wood. Varen felt like his own soul was scarred by the tide of death. It was necessary to survive, but could they have avoided all of this? At Elyzia's urging, he abandoned such maddening thoughts.

He turned to the rest of the group, and said with a grim, humorless smile, "Well, we have much to clean up, and an uncertain amount of time until we reach our destination... let us hope nothing else happens on this trip." He turns around, looking for a brush or a cloth to scrub the deck. He needed to get rid of the blood- it would drive him insane if he stared at it without doing anything.

As dawn's light slowly revealed the gory scene in all of its morbid glory, Auren turned his thoughts to contemplate the other members of the caravan, to blot out the scene. Particularly Vikne and Zamora. Vikne was a wild card. Varen didn't know where his magic came from, but he knew that Vikne had to have a cause for this wildness. Zamora.. the elf who was not. Her entire presence here was inscrutable. Both were chaotic- helpful, but unpredictable.

It was chaos.

What could have been understood if the Queen had told them what her intentions were in regards to the sacrifice, then perhaps this wouldn't have happened. Perhaps if Zamora stayed her blade, the Queen may have said something later.

Despite not knowing what the Sea Witch had let Lozita and Alicia feel, Lolu're could only view what was happening around her as an unnecessary slaughter on both sides. Although she had just been a slave, the knowledge of diplomacy was one she had thought was more useful in situations such as this. Many were too quick to act impulsively rather than think about what the consequences of their actions would be. But in the same way, who knows what would have happened if they stopped their murderous spree.

She was pulled from her thoughts and her actions at Dalitso's voice. Frowning, she nodded and rose to her hooves, gratefully taking Dalitso's hand when offered. They had walked a distance away across the deck, and her hand slid from his own as he moved to sit down. She watched his face silently for a moment before she followed his gaze to the sky. The rising sun painted the clouds the warm hues of the morning. Although she hadn't done much fighting, the fact of the matter was that the Centauress was still mortal, and still had sleep schedule she had yet to break from her time in slavery. The sun coming up was a sore reminder that if she had still been in the North Queen's clutches, she would be rousing just about now. And she hadn't even slept yet.

She looked up in time to see Vikne finally getting to his feet. Something had ailed him, and seeing how he asked if he had hurt anyone and then quickly retreated below dead was a dead giveaway that something was amiss. Yet she would not ask at the present moment. He seemed fine, for the moment now, so she would not go out of her way to bug him, especially since he likely needed to rest after his incredible display of magic.

Tired eyes went to Alicia when the girl spoke, and the woman-beast nodded her head. In reality, Lolu're wanted to respond with 'I could be better'. But she wasn't one to state such a fact, especially to those she still didn't know all that well. She would not inflict her worries on the others, at least not for a time yet.

Zamora was spied climbing back up to the crows nest without a word, and the Centauress was further intrigued. The stamina the elf displayed was astounding, considering the activities she had been doing while aboard the ship. It was remarkable she even had the strength to even climb. Lolu're was still under the impression Zamora was just an elf, if not a highly disciplined one when it came to endurance.

Varen spoke up, and the Centauress had to concur. She would be unable to live with the ship in its state, and it wasn't in her nature to simply let others do the cleaning. Old habits never die. Without a word to Dalitso or Cia, the woman clip-clopped her way across the deck towards Varen. It would take them a long time to get the ichor off the deck.

"Allow me to help, Varen."

They all needed this time; a quiet moment to reflect on everything that had occurred. The sun remained centered as Obelus slowly circulated. Such made it look like the sun was rising, but truthfully the planet that rotated, came closer to the forever burning star.

Dalitso thought deeply about these things, as Sanze, the youngest of his gypsy companions, lit his pipe weed and kindly offered it to him. Afterwards, she giggled sweetly and ran off covered in goo to join the others cleaning deck. He sighed at her infantilism in it all.

The assassin, still amazed, puffed his pipe and studied its purity, curious how something as beautiful—a near perfect sphere of burning plasma could bring just enough heat without destroying them on both land and sea. The sun was amazing.

Then Vikne woke. He spoke out and chuckled. Dalitso answered him. “You did well this time. It was pure mastery. I have never seen magic wielded so passionately. Oh, and thanks for giving me a warning.” He jested about the paralysis.

Shortly, Vikne departed beneath the deck and Alicia finally spoke out to them. Lolu’re could not be still and rode off to aid Varen and now Dalitso was left alone with the girl, having no choice now but to answer. At least he didn’t have to deal with Zamora, not now anyway; for the moment it was better if the demented wood elf stayed away. She was nothing like the sweet elf he sung to, in fact he wondered if she even knew that elven hymn.

“I admit, I was no use with my rib still wounded, but I managed.” He said humbly. “Lolu’re is a great healer.” He said to Cia, his face becoming sad while he spoke to her. “I let you down. I am sorry I failed Lozita. The ocean is no place for one of ours to be buried. If I’m ever to die, Alicia, promise me you will cremate me to ashes and send them into the Aceba Desert wind.”

Lance came over to see the muscular built assassin, dressed in his skin tight leathers with his arms and chest exposed. He seen the sky and felt the change of temperature in the atomsphere. “Winter comes early in the north, friend. You’ll need more than a scarf to keep you warm.”

“We have lionskin cloaks beneath deck if needed.” Dalitso remembered.

“Ah, lionskin! Now that my friend is how you come to the north. Wild beasts on your backs, let’s them know you’re not one to mess with. If only Isabella seen the lion skins.” Lance grinned.

Dalitso chuckled at Lance who knew how to cheer him up. He enjoyed some of the captains rum. It had a fowl stench but it kept the insides pure nonetheless.

In the solitude of his quarters, Vikne swiftly disrobed, examining his affliction. The crimson streaks began on his right shoulder, stretched towards his neck and chest. The shaman hurriedly prepared a spell, weaving in his free hand a ball of golden light, which forced the marks to recede to a single point. He was weary and drenched in sweat as he completed this ritual, though greatly relieved.

Vikne had made no notice of it before, but the sun was currently rising, likely near when his fit struck him. He chased the thought from his mind, allowing himself to drift to sleep without further concern.

Watching Vikne leave the scene so quickly, after asking if he had injured any of their own, made Alicia's heart sadden even more. The shaman had pushed himself a lot in the battle and deserved at least some peace. So, with that reasoning in mind, Alicia didn't speak reply back to him and watched him go.


Soon she saw Zamora left for the crow's nest, the elf looking slightly as tired as everyone else. Reminded Alicia just how worse some battles could be from then on. She took some deep breaths to calm her down in a bit.

Hearing Dalitso request for Alicia to cremate him and send his ashes to the desert, made her nod. Seeing Lozita die, had only confirmed Dalitso's mortality. To make sure Dalitso never died, she'll need to stay by his side even more, and even if, she didn't deserve to.

She watched Varen and Lolu're clean up the blue blood that stained the deck of the ship. Alicia wanted to help, she truly did, but she couldn't look at the Mer bodies without thinking of the Sea Queen and Lozita. She then turned her head away from the scene, cursing herself under her breath for being pathetic.

Varen tiredly glanced up at the centauress' offer of help, and gratefully nods his thanks. He then continues cleaning. It is a messy, dirty job, one where he gets his clothes utterly soiled. He could hear Elyzia in the back of his mind chiding him slightly angrily, but he didn't really care at the moment. The repetitive actions he performed helped keep his sanity.

After a long interval of cleaning, the deck was finally clean. Weary, he stood up and stretched, and curtly said, "I'm going to bed. Good.... morning?" At that slightly sheepish farewell, he went to the hammocks.

Indeed, it was a long time to clean.

With the help of Lance's crew, the able-bodied deckhands pushed the corpses over the side of the ship. Mops and buckets had been found, and although it would take a strong soap to get the blood out of the deep grain of the wood, Lolu're persisted regardless.

The longer she worked, the more sluggish she became. It was clear the woman-beast was exhausted. She had a very, very old schedule to break, and her own mortality was showing. She would be absolutely useless now if they were attacked again, and that bothered her.

When Varen had retired, the group of them have done well to clean up the majority of the mess, the Centauress turned to rejoin Dalitso and Alicia. Her eyes were slitted with fatigue, but she smiled, albeit weakly. She stood above them, towering even, and bowed her head respectfully of the two.

"I would like to retire now." So used to asking for permission, she sighed, having failed to catch herself. "...It would do us well if we all got some sleep, would it not?" No, she was not angry. Frustrated perhaps, but not angry. "Please rest, you two. Tiredness and sorrow only weaken the soul..." It was true. At least for her. For a month after her mother died, she had little energy to do anything in her despair. She didn't want the same to befall these two.

An entire day had passed. It was nightfall now and the wind blew wildly over the black seas. The deck of the Golden Salamander was cleaned an evening ago. The wooden floor was polished to perfection, with a lavish scent that made Lance’s whiskers wiggle—a joyous aroma for any Captain.

Surprisingly, it had been mostly quiet.

Zamora would open her eyes sometimes when they hit a wave, thus like a lizard her eyes would close and her tongue would lather when things calmed again. Varen, Vikne and Lolu’re remained beneath deck and for a long while it was just Dalitso and Alicia up deck, snuggled next to each other in their warm lionskin cloaks. The girl had begged him to smoke his pipe weed, but he refused to share until she was of age. Eventually she gave up and they both fell asleep next to each other. The gypsies and his crew seemed to get along fine; both parties nestled together, soused with spiced rum. The Capitan observed all of this as he held the rudder, his eyes surrounded in red blisters.

“You should rest, Captain.” Jim said, waking up from his post.

“Winter is here.” Lance sung. “I’ll sleep when I get these good people on land.”

Then his eyes perked up. He seen a yellow-orange flame ahead of him. He pulled out his scopes to study the scene properly.

“Land and company! Wake the hero’s Jim. We are in the north!” He exclaimed.

The wind hissed more violently and snow started to fall from the sky; ice crushed on the deck like spitting boulders. Moments later, they were on shallow sea and the anchor was dropped into the sand. The gangplank was lowered and Lance woke Dalitso, shoving his shoulder.

“Wake up, mate. We spotted an elf camp ahead. They are aware of our arrival.” Lance said.

Dalitso frowned, his wild dreads covered his comely visage. “How many?” The assassin grunted.

“Twenty elf archers, thirteen human fighters and two mages.” Chi reported. The Valkryn unsheathed her demon blade, appearing from no where.

“Yes, what she said. Must you do that every time?” Lance shivered.

The others would have heard the news. If not, the deck was on serious alert now. Bells were heard as Jim attempted to gather everyone’s attention. “Contact! We have contact! All hands on deck!”

The ship's incessant rocking had calmed, signaling shore or calm waters. The anchor and gangplank confirmed his suspicions, followed by cries and bells. Vikne leapt from his chambers to the deck, making his way to Dalitso.

A small company stood before them, battle ready. "Are we so sure these are foes? See if you can make out a banner among
them." The shaman spoke these words as the harsh wind lapped against his face.

The report came from the leader's demon, a significant amount of the camp would be ranged fighters. Defense would be the wisest choice. "Stay behind me." Cried Vikne, stepping before the group. He knelt down and placed his hands upon the ground. "Dalitso, give the word and I shall raise a wall." Said the shaman.

A faint aura of white began to emanate from him, steadily increasing in intensity. To do battle was his last wish, though he would not falter if it became necessary.

After a dreamless sleep, Alicia awoke to Dalitso's body warmth disappearing from her side. She soon was informed about a situation with an Elven camp from Lance. Immediately, her sleepy-addled brain went into combat mode.

She quickly grabbed her scimitar and joined them to soon face their potential foes. But, she was slightly hesitant to go straight into combat this time. The memories of the Sea Queen and Lozita were unfortunately still fresh on her mind.

"...Do we...have to fight them?" Alicia asked, a bit worried about losing more people in the Caravan.

Again, just like the last battle, they were outnumbered. The opponent this time seemed diverse, consisting of elves, humans, and mages. She glanced at Zamora, wondering if her status as an elf could help them. She was willing to find ways to make sure everyone would remain safe and unharmed. Of course, Lolu're and Dalitso's safety is always first priority to her.

Her hours on the perch of the crow's nest were spent in silence. The elf makes her the most of her time by continuing to fast and occasionally pulling some gut, thread, needles, and herbal mixes through nowhere in her shirt into her hand.

By the time they've truly entered the north, the elf manages to have changed her clothes, drawn her hair back to a wild ponytail, and appear startlingly refreshed. Her new garb is undeniably similar to those of the elven group to greet them. In truth, she has been among them before. Zamora hops down from the mast with the grace of a doe and balance of a cat. She straightens when the bells ring and looks around. Interest shows on her features. Her body language is polite, and her eyes are excited.