Testing the Waters

[Izvilvin]

((Closed))

Perched atop the highest rooftop in (or on) Irrakam, a silent and observant Izvilvin took careful tally of the people below. He had a physical description of the one he was supposed to find, which didn't do him a tremendous amount of good from so high, but a woman with purple hair wouldn't be difficult to spot in a crowd. His lavender eyes swept slowly, carefully over the throngs of people who moved about while the wind blew stark white hair over his cheeks.

It was mid-morning on one of the more important days in the Drow's life, a day when he could make a true difference in the land he'd come to call his home. The Calerians, whatever they were, had surfaced again, and a woman named Ira was the link between the Jya and them. At least, that's what the Jya hoped she would be.

Izvilvin's mission was to find her, which was the easy part. Then he was to take her back to the Keep and pick up a pair of priestesses, and together they would travel to Astaka where Ira would attempt to become ambassador of their people.

When he thought about it, Izvilvin had to chuckle. It was such a long shot that he couldn't believe he'd taken the job.

He'd recently begun to feel less needed in these lands, or rather, he started to become aware that he was not needed here at all, and never was. The Drow was doing the work that a native Fallienite was better suited to, but he'd been taking jobs that were more and more dangerous in an attempt to make himself feel valuable. In truth, this was not his home, and the impact he could make on this desert region was limited. He needed to go home and help those who could truly benefit from a talented drow's dedication, the dark elves.

Izvilvin, usually unafraid to face trials, was not yet willing to face this fact and leave. He'd grown comfortable as a soldier of the Keep, and that comfort had become the one thing hindering him.

Mercifully, a woman with purple hair seemed to pass by in a crowd. Izvilvin snapped out of his contemplation and got to his feet, spinning to head down the roof the same way he'd gotten up, by climbing a series of wall vines. This was one more job he needed to do for the Jya, who'd become the closest thing to a mother he'd known in a hundred years.

Perhaps, the time for going back to his true mother was growing close.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira sighed as she rolled over. The sun as filtering through her open window and outside she could hear the sounds of normal people going about their normal everyday business. She didn’t want to move, she didn’t want to be awake. She wanted to return to that little happy place in her mind where everything was all right and where nothing truly mattered because it was all just a dream. But she couldn’t live there forever and she couldn’t pretend that everything that had occurred in the last few months was just a dream, or a nightmare to be more precise. She had to wake up and slap some sense into herself eventually coming to terms with what had happened, what was happening and what was going to happen. She did not have the luxury to waste away in bed day after day, dreaming of grander things. Ira had a life, a job, people to protect and souls to save.

Throwing back the thin sheet covering her, Ira began her morning routine. The same one she had done in this room the day before and the day before that. She showered, dressed, groomed and went downstairs to get some food. The Rising Phoenix was a nice Inn and tavern in a not so nice part of Irrakam, The Outlander’s Quarters. Why she was in this certain area she didn’t know, perhaps she thought fewer people would recognize her here. Foreigners gathered in this place and as such a girl with purple hair and swirling, silver eyes tended to go a little unnoticed…by some.

So early in the morning the downstairs area was mostly deserted and Ira was graced with her breakfast alone. She talked with the owner for a little bit, a nice woman with a name that for some reason eluded her at the moment but the lady didn’t seem to mind.

“You’ve been here for a few days now and you’re clearly not a foreigner. So, what are doing?”

Ira remained silent as she pondered the question. Just what was she doing here? Truly, she didn’t know. It was Gereint’s idea and that Shaman worked in mysterious ways. He could have sent here for her own amusement, or for something much more that he just wasn’t telling her. She hadn’t seen any souls aimlessly wandering around and she hadn’t sensed any Fallen, so it didn’t seem to be for that.


“Ira, I think you should go back to Irrakam.”

The Calerian looked over at her Shaman as if he had just lost not only his eyesight but also his sanity. Go back to Irrakam, after all that had just happened there? Why?

“I think it would be best for you…” He continued.

“You think it will be best for me? Gereint, I normally do not question you—”

“Then don’t question me now.”

Ira was taken aback by him cutting her off. He never did that; he always let her get a few words in to explain things. Why was he being so callous with her now? It hurt her slightly that he could do that.

She folded her arms under her chest, “I do not want to return to Irrakam.”

Gereint sighed and shook his head, reaching out and resting a hand on Ira’s shoulder. “I do not wish to argue with you. I just think it would be best if you return to Irrakam. It’ll give you time to think without all of the eyes watching your move as if…”

“As if what, I could turn into a monster at any minute and kill them? Yeah well, by their logic and by mine that should have already happened, twice! How can I blame them? The first time could be considered a fluke, something weird, something not completely explainable. The second time, Hell we both know it changed me in more ways than either of us are willing to admit and not even you know much of anything about it.”

The weathered, old shaman nodded his head knowing it true. He knew much but this was something beyond all his years of wisdom. He’d never heard of a Calerian surviving corruption, twice at that and even then a Calerian controlling the corruption and using it to become thing else…it was unheard of. None except Ira and himself knew of the last part though and decided it best to keep it between them. Some of the tribe would not understand, others might and then others might feel threatened enough by Ira to exile her and that was the last thing he wanted to happen.

“Ira, go to Irrakam, please. You need a break from Astaka.”


Ira smiled at the woman, “I guess I’m on a vacation…”

She smiled and nodded her head knowing there was more to it than that but not prying, “I hope you enjoy yourself.”

“Hmmm…”

It was hard to enjoy herself in a city that cost her best friend her life. She could try though. She could forget for a little bit each day and try to just enjoy this place and not remember the sound of the buildings exploding and the sight of Uri falling into the flames. It was a hard image to just wipe clean from her mind especially back here but she could try.

“I think I’m going to go shopping…” Ira said absentmindedly.

“That’s an excellent idea! The Merchant’s Walkway isn’t far from here, you have to leave The Outlander’s Quarters though.”

Ira nodded her head, that wouldn’t be a problem, she wasn’t a foreigner and didn’t need an Exit Pass, she could pass through freely. Going back to her room, she grabbed her rucksack and asked the tavern owner to fill her water sack before she left The Rising Phoenix.

[Izvilvin]

The Drow stood out like a spot of dirt on a bedsheet as he ran among the Fallien people. Eyes followed him as he made his way by, for most had seen him during his daily route, and most had heard of the sole Dark Elf who'd taken up residence in the Keep. For many, this was the first time that the rumor could be confirmed, and it was rather exciting to see him. Others shuddered away, for Drow did not have a remarkable reputation in the lands outside of Alerar.

Izvilvin ignored them all, keeping his eyes locked onto a distand building so that he'd remember which one he was headed for. He swerved desperately, avoiding the pike of a merchant who was carrying it back to his shop, and then he was on the side road where the woman with purple hair had gone. The sun was blocked by a pair of high buildings on each side of the lonesome road, and the woman was nowhere in sight.

He ignored the urge to draw his weapons, though being in a secluded area in a land where he was not overly loved made him edgy. "Ph' dos ghil?" he called, a melodic voice drifting from his ebony lips.

No answer. Izvilvin began to walk down the road, making sure to check each corner with his peripheral vision as he passed. The woman wasn't supposed to be hostile, but the man learned long ago that such information couldn't be trusted. Too many surprises had come at him.

"Ira?" he asked rather loudly, using the common tongue name of the woman he was looking for. If nothing else, perhaps hearing her own name would call her attention.

[Iriah Caitrak]

“Hmmm?”

Ira stopped and turned around. She could have sworn she heard someone call her name. Her eyes scanned the sparse crowd of people. No one seemed to be looking at her in particular; in fact, those in the alley just seemed to be going about their own business as if she didn’t exist, exactly what she wanted them to be doing. But, what if it was Alikam, or one of the Priestesses from The Keep? She didn’t want to be bothered with them right now she just wanted to be left alone and not reminded of her ‘heroic’ deeds to save Irrakam and Jya, not now. Please not now. The call had been distant though, like one of those things you hear while lost in thought and react to without thinking. Perhaps it was for someone else, her name wasn’t exactly strange, there could be others in Irrakam named Ira, and it would be silly of her to think she was the only person with that name in this huge land.

Turning back around, Ira decided to ignore it. No one knew she was in Irrakam anyway so why would Alikam or any of the Priestesses be looking for her? No, they weren’t, it was just her imagination. A minute or two later and Ira was where she wanted to be, a small crossroads in the back alleys. There was a street to her left heading back towards the marketplace and another one in front of her, a well behind her. A well that Myrhia had fallen into. A well that had helped them put out the fires and been the reason why Letho dared the flames, because he’d seen Myrhia fall into it’s depths. The earth where the buildings had fallen was still scorched and blackened, but all the rubble was gone. This was where it had all started with three collapsed burning buildings trapping them in here like rats and about twenty feet ahead of her in that patch of blackened earth was where Uri had died.

Taking a deep breath, Ira continued forward until she was standing on top of the scorched earth. There she knelt down and closed her eyes sending out a few thoughts to Uri’s soul wherever it may be, hopefully at peace. A few people in the small crowd noticed her and stopped for a moment. Everyone in Irrakam knew what had happened here a few months ago and quite a few people had been affected directly or indirectly. Apparently Jya was even putting up a memorial somewhere in here to honour those that had died during the attacks and she wondered if Uriahd’s name would be on it, or Brye’s and perhaps even Eagis’s. They all deserved to be and she doubted Jya would forget to add their names. Other than them though she did not know the faces of the others who had perished here. They had all been strangers to her but out there in Irrakam there was someone who was mourning for their loss.

[Izvilvin]

A few more steps the Drow took, before some scuttling behind a series of barrels called his attention. He carefully examined them, his paranoia getting the best of his mind, when a series of quick steps behind him informed him of what was going on.

He sidestepped as a blunt object soared past his head. The man who'd swung it stumbled forward, having dedicated too much force to the attack without realizing it could miss. Izvilvin kicked his back hard, sending him stumbling into the barrels in front of them. Then he whirled around to look at the other Irrakam natives, having sprung from their hiding places when their most brave companion sprung his attack.

They talked amongst themselves briefly. Izvilvin merely waited, watching to see what they would do. The people were armed with primative weaponry, ranging from chunks of wood to crude, iron swords. When it looked as if they were going to spring themselves his way, the Drow quickly drew his kukris, bringing a gasp from the humans. The glass knives, tinted lavender like his eyes, seemed to glint menacingly in the sunlight that crept between the buildings.

The people backed off, not quite as willing to attack, even together, if Izvilvin had those sharp weapons drawn. Did they expect him to merely stand and take their punishment?

"Goddamned Drow," spat one of them, balling his fists as his tanned face grew small with rage. "Takin' our Jya to your bed and taking that purity from her."

Of course, Izvilvin didn't understand, merely taking some measure of comfort in seeing them leave. It was about as much comfort he could get at this point, when the people of the land he'd sworn to protect were turning on him. He slid his kukris back into the crossing sheaths on his back, and looked solemnly to the fallen man by the collapsed barrels. He was merely knocked out.

He tried to force the event out of his head as he made his way forward, eventually coming to a wider section of the road, where he could see the purple-haired woman standing in the distance. She looked contemplative even from behind, so he approached slowly, coming to stand next to her on this strange, blackened ground. It did not greet his feet gently, like the grass, but hard like stone.

He slowly reached into his shirt, pulling a thick envelope from a small pocket in the lining. Without turning his gaze to her, the warrior held out the letter to the woman as he looked at the moving crowd beyond.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira slowly stood back up as images of happier times filtered through her mind. No more thoughts of death and fire, gone was the horrendous noise of the buildings exploding. Now she remembered days of laughter and days of training. When they practiced their fighting skills with one another and then ganged up on Revor, only to have him and his friends get back at them in various forms of chosen punishment. She remembered The Festivals of the Dead, the times when they’d snuck out of their tents way passed bedtime to watch the adults and the rituals performed. There were the times later on when they had participated in the main event, the great dance held before the feast to mark the beginning of the weeklong festivities. Then there was this year’s festival, when Ira had led the event without Uri by her side. But she knew that somewhere out there Uri had seen it and been watching over her, after all, she hadn’t missed a single step and she knew that must have been from Uri’s watchful eye.

These were the bittersweet memories of times passed; times she wished she could return to yet knew it was not possible. Memories could haunt and comfort a person at the same time, joy and sorrow all in one image. But Ira refused to let them haunt her, she’d been happy during these moments and she was going to look back at them fondly and with a smile on her face.

So lost in her own thoughts Ira didn’t notice as the stranger slid up behind her. Only when she finally noticed something from the corner of her eye did she turn towards him and froze. Not out of fear, no, never out of fear but perhaps a slight bit of shock.

What is he?

She’d never seen anything like him before. The white hair, that was nothing unusual to her, and lavender eyes, they were beautiful and nothing new. But his skin, it was black, just pure black. He was the most fascinating creature she’d ever seen and she was damn sure her face was reflecting this fascination either in her expression or somewhere in her eyes. Her hand reached out as if to touch him, but she quickly caught herself and looked sharply away as heat seared across her cheeks.

Realizing he was holding something out to her, Ira took the envelope from the siahd and opened it. She found several pieces of paper inside, all of them written in Common and some of them stamped with the seal of the local Militia. In fact, she was rather certain that was Alikam’s signature at the bottom. Furrowing her brows, Ira began to read through the pages quickly realizing they were for a job hiring at the local law enforcement and that the mission was her and her people. There was also another sighed paper that would give them an audience with Jya. Just who the heck was this guy and how long had he been following her around? On top of that why did Jya want to open up relations with her tribe? They lived quietly and peacefully away from Irrakam and never caused any trouble, if anything they helped. And an Ambassador, her? Had Jya lost her mind? Why her, Ira was not a politician, far from it and truth be told she had no interest in becoming one either. By Suravani, there was even a description of what she looked like in here and a list of the locations rumoured for her to be, including The Rising Phoenix. This was creepy, like, stalker creepy.

Carefully placing the papers back in the envelope, Ira handed them back to the siahd.

“I’m sorry, but no.” She said it softly but firmly. She didn’t want to argue with him about this.

She didn’t want to get involved in politics, had enough to worry about dealing with the dead and he was a complete stranger, why should she trust him with the route to take to Astaka? She knew nothing about him, other than the fact that he was a warrior; an idiot wouldn’t be able to miss that one.

Ira took a few steps back away from the siahd, then turned and started heading towards The Merchant’s Walkway. With the crowd of people milling about and doing all of their shopping it should be easy for her to disappear into the throng.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin needed to fight back a smile while he watched Ira observe him. There was a fascination upon her face that was impossible to ignore, as if she was, for the first time, witnessing something so interesting she couldn't hope to pry her eyes away. It was leaps and bounds greater, the Drow mused, than the scrutinizing looks the people of Irrakam had been shooting him all day, let alone the ambush.

Still, she handed the envelope back to him with what he percieved to be resignation. The tone of her voice told him that she was not only uninterested, but completely opposed to the idea. He took the paper back between rough fingers, stuffing it gently into the secret pocket by his chest, then watched attentively as the woman headed off in the direction of the biggest crowd about. It was obvious she wanted to avoid him, despite how intrigued she had seemed to be by his unique appearance.

He had a mission to do. However much Ira wanted her privacy, wanted to avoid the confrontation that likely lay ahead, it was Izvilvin's personal duty to see that she was brought to Astaka to lay the foundations of peace with the Calerians. Were he the kind of man who could turn his back on a mother's request, it would have been a simple matter of turning back toward Jya's Keep and spending his day doing something else.

But the Drow didn't hesitate to give chase behind the woman, stepping quickly as she rounded a building. Rather than follow her obviously, he ran toward the corner of a home, which sported an inward angle, and kicked his way up to the roof with little effort.

Darting along the pebble-covered top of the Fallien home, the nimble Drow slid to the edge of the building and looked at the folk below, making sure to keep low and hidden behind the rising barrier which surrounded the roof. A purple-haired woman was not overly difficult to spot among a crowd of hooded, tanned men and women, so he soon saw Ira after only a few seconds of scanning. He headed onward, leaping from roof to roof.

Eventually, it seemed as if she was breaking away from the crowd. Izvilvin took this opportunity to deftly leap from his high perch, kicking off of a distant wall to slow his momentum, and land expertly in the middle of the road, surprising a few nearby patrons of the Merchant's Walkway. Ira was before him.

He spread his hands wide, keeping his eyes level and calm, and dipped into a high bow before bringing his limbs back in again. He tried to project an air of calm and disarming goodness, so that she would not flee from him again. There was no way for the Drow to plead with her to come along with him, so he merely reached out for her hand, gently, and then brought it to his face. She'd seemed interested before in learning about him, and this was as good a way as any to take away any fears she might have had. Then again, it was a long shot.

He let her rub his cheek, to feel that the texture of his skin was just like any other elf's, soft and smooth to the touch, and then he spoke in a melodic, flowing tone. "Izvilvin," he said, pointing to himself and smiling. His teeth appeared as white as polished ivory against his ebony skin.

"I good," he said sheepishly, painfully aware of how orcish he must have sounded.

[Iriah Caitrak]

It was supposed to be easy for her to disappear into the throng, unfortunately for her the person she was trying to disappear from was very persistent and good at tracking her, not that she really blended in. A girl with purple hair always stood out in a crowd with mostly dark brown or black hair. But she’d been hoping with so many people he just wouldn’t be able to spot her, yet hope was not enough for her case. When the siahd dropped down from one of the roofs to the ground below Ira did the only thing natural to her, she put herself in a defensive stance and began channelling the required energy to form her weapon into her hands. When she saw that he was unarmed she stopped before the energy materialized.

He was not going to give up so easily, but she just wanted him to turn around and leave her alone. Ira didn’t want any part of his mission, she didn’t want to be an ambassador, she didn’t want to take him back to Astaka, she just wanted to be left alone. Why couldn’t the world just leave her alone?

Surprise fused over her face as he reached out and took her hand, placing it against his cheek. She would have laughed at his following speech if she could have but she was, well she didn’t really know what she was feeling at the moment. Her fingers traveled up his cheek and across his brow, then she brought them down his other cheek and brushed them lightly over his lips before she slowly lowered her hand back to her side. The Calerian had no idea what to do. She just kept looking into Izvilvin’s eyes, the indecision evident on her face even as her swirling irises changed to a sad looking blue.

She looked away from him and ran her fingers through her hair, then she glanced back at him for a second and looked away again. If she brought him to Astaka with her, what would the repercussions be? A siahd would know the way to their sacred homeland, a siahd her instincts said was trustworthy but she didn’t trust yet. The Priestesses outlined in the mission he needed to acquire from The Keep would also know the way; anyone from The Keep could just go to Astaka at any time. However, forming some kind of treaty or bond or whatever could have benefits for Astaka that Ira couldn’t think about at the moment. Was it not for Majra and Gereint to decide whether or not some negotiations with The Jya and her Priestesses was worth it?

Ira was stuck between a rock and a hard place. This could be beneficial for her people but at the same time she’d be disclosing the location of her people, a people who enjoyed their solitude. They lived under their own laws and not the laws of Jya and Ira was unsure if that would become a problem. Perhaps it would have been best if she’d never exposed her people to this. Because of what happened the last time she was in Irrakam with Messia and Uriahd, The Jya and most the people of Irrakam now knew the Calerian tribe was still alive and thriving.

If only she had some of Gereint’s great wisdom to help her out. There had to be a way she could test the siahd to see if he was trustworthy of being taken to Astaka. Perhaps there was a way…

Stepping away from him, Ira tried to hide the smirk from appearing on her face as he took a step closer to her. They were already away from the larger crowd and with a few more steps back Ira led Izvilvin into one of the small side streets Irrakam was littered with. Not wanting to second-guess herself, Ira took a deep breath. This was the best chance she had at seeing exactly what kind of person he is. Channelling the energy into her hand, Ira formed a small throwing knife, blunt on all sides. If it hit him the worse it would do is bruise, but he didn’t know that. Convincing herself again this was the right way to test him, Ira threw the small knife at him then quickly formed her Half Swallows, their blades dulled as well. She attacked him before she even took notice of whether or not the knife had hit the dead centre target of his chest.

[Izvilvin]

Showing his intentions was something Izvilvin knew he'd had to do. Defending from an attack, however, was an unexpected hurdle to leap. Pure instinct alone drove him to lean away from the soaring dagger, which he caught a quick glimpse of as it passed by.

She was upon him quickly, an exotic weapon in each hand. The Drow didn't hesitate to pull two sai from his belt, spinning them about in his fingers before her blades came at him. One high and one low, Izvilvin parried both strikes before shifting his momentum and stepping forward to close what little space there was between them.

He slid his sai back into his belt as quickly as he could, and gave her a perplexed look. Despite her attack, something about the whole thing told him she was still not convinced he was some evil being. Perhaps it was the look in her eye, which still held that fascination he'd detected before.

Izvilvin couldn't hold back a slight smile. If her swallows came in again, he'd need to dodge desperately, but again, something about the woman suggested she was toying with him.

"Stop," he said, lifting his hands in a disarming gesture. "Doer xuil uns'aa ulu Astaka," he finished, on the off chance that she could understand him.

[Iriah Caitrak]

When he said stop, she did. When the other words poured out of his mouth she just looked at him in confusion. She’d known he was not very good with Common from the way he’d spoken to her but now it was absolutely clear that he barely had a grasp on the language and she had no idea what he was saying to her now. She didn’t even know what race he was let alone what he was trying to say. All she heard was Astaka and even then it took her a moment to realize he’d said the name of her home and not another weird sounding word. Then again, both Common and Fallien must sound like gibberish to him. And he was smiling at her. He knew that she was just testing him the little—ohh, if she could wipe that smirk off his face she would.

Relaxing her position, Ira let her weapons slip from her fingers. They hit the hardened dirt and then disappeared, dispersing the energy she had focused to create them.

Her test of him had proven that his own instincts and reactions dictated defence. He protected himself from her attacks but would not attack her back and faced with a sudden assault one always goes by their instincts. But she was still left with her dilemma of whether or not to take him to Astaka. Ultimately it came down to the fact that a possible beneficial treaty with The Jya was not her choice to make, but that of Majra’s and Gereint’s.

Glancing towards the sun, Ira noted its location. It was too late in the day to set out for Astaka; they wouldn’t make it to the first rest area before dark hit. They’d have to wait until tomorrow morning and head out early.

“We’ll have to head out tomorrow morning, it’s too late in the afternoon now, we’ll never make the first resting area.”

She didn’t know if he could understand her or not. Perhaps the words coming from her mouth sounded exactly like gibberish to him the same way his language sounded to her.

“Come.”

Ira grabbed his hand and began leading him through the twisting side streets of Irrakam. She’d learned to navigate her way around the city rather quickly out of necessity, because she’d gotten lost quite a few times travelling from The Outlander’s Quarters. Taking the side streets cut their time in half for getting back to The Outlander’s Quarters too and soon enough, Ira was leading Izvilvin into The Rising Phoenix.

“Hey, you’re back early.”

Ira smiled to the Inn owner and cursed herself for she still couldn’t remember the woman’s name and felt bad about it.

“Yeah, I—”

“Who’s that with you—is that a Drow?”

Ira looked from the woman to Izvilvin, “What’s a Drow?”

“Oh, they’re a race of elves from Alerar. You’ve never seen a Drow before?”

“Nope, I haven’t been around Althanas much. Do you speak…whatever language they speak?”

The woman raised a brow, “They speak Drow, sweety and no I don’t. Why, doesn’t he know common?”

“No, I kind of wonder what he thinks we’re talking about at this moment…”

“He’s probably checking out your butt.”

Ira laughed, “Hardly, he’s only here because I’m part of some stupid mission he seems intent on completing even though I wanted nothing to do with it. Anyway, could you give me a bigger room with two beds, please?”

“Sure, no problem. Just stay down here and have some lunch and I’ll get some of my girls to move everything over for you.”

Ira smiled and nodded her thanks then moved to one of the booths in one of the corners of the tavern area. It was still early in the day and the large drinking crowd that gathered here had yet to emerge. There were a few people in the tavern but for the most part it was empty and quiet, just the way Ira liked it.

[Izvilvin]

A perplexed Izvilvin could merely follow and observe while Ira spoke with her innkeeper ally. Rather than look on stupidly, the Drow looked about, surveying the few people present. He'd never been to an Inn before, though he understood how they worked.

She seemed to set off toward the back of the room, where he suspected she wanted to pick up a few things and be off, but Ira sat down in a booth instead. A worried Izvilvin followed her, but instead of sitting in the opposite seat, he stood by her side and tugged at her arm, motioning toward the exit.

"Udos ssrig'luin ulu alu ulu l' Ser, udos shlu'ta doer rath gajak," he said, still unsure of whether or not she understood him. He'd said they needed to go the Keep, and that she could come back later.

He produced the envelope from his shirt again, holding it out and pointing at the small emblem in the corner. It would take the priestesses some time to get ready for the journey, and the longer they waited here, the longer it'd be before they actually left.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira felt like banging her head on the table as Izvilvin spilled forth words that had no meaning to her. She’d never been in this kind of situation before. She’d been taught Common from a young age so this kind of thing never occurred, apparently the tribe didn’t count on the fact that the rest of Althanas might not know Common. Not only does he apprehend her for his dumb mission, he can’t even communicate what he wants with her effectively. He actually has to resort to pointing things out and right now it appeared he wanted to go to The Keep, one of the very places Ira had been avoiding.

This was going to be a frustrating mission and she could already feel her mood worsening.

She just wanted to go back to her depressed little bubble where everyone ignored her and barely noticed her existence. If only Storm was still here, he always managed to cheer her up somehow.

Sighing, Ira reluctantly got up from the booth she was sitting in. Izvilvin wasted no time leading the way out of The Rising Phoenix and into the streets of Irrakam. Ira contemplated trying to lose him again by running off into the crowd, but figured he’d just be able to spot her anyway. She didn’t blend well and he knew where she was staying. Plus, he’d been able to find her relatively quickly the last time she tried to elude him. No, it looked like she was stuck with the Drow and that she was going to have to complete this mission. Who knows, maybe it would be good for her. Take her mind off the very events that had been depressing her for the last week.

It didn’t take them long to get to The Keep. Avoiding the crowd by taking the backs streets they were there within a half hour and the moment she saw the place Ira wanted to leave it. Memories of the battle that had taken place within it kept flashing through her head. The deaths of Eagis and Brye and how The Jya had nearly died within these very walls were fresh images that wouldn’t go away. Then there was of course the grand feast that had taken place afterwards. Despite the rocky start that her and Letho had, she hoped to meet him again some day and Myrhia too of course. And they better damn well invite her to the wedding or she was going to be sending them a curse in a box, specially made by Gereint.

Ira and Izvilvin entered the gates of the magnificent palace. The stones work was a beautiful pale pink colour covered in tapestries depicting battles and ancient heroes and catastrophes to good times alike. They were all magnificently sewn and blowing gently in the light breeze coming in through large open windows. The Keep was open to the public to a certain extent; you could only go so far and there were always guards posted at almost every doorway. It wasn’t disconcerting to her though to have them there, she barely noticed their presence. Apparently, someone else was noticing hers though.

“Ira?”

She turned around only to be greeted by the familiar face of Alikam. She hadn’t seen him since the feast and he hadn’t changed much at all, except he was wearing a magnificent set of armour. Not to mention a smile was lighting his features as she turned around at the sound of her name.

He took a few steps closer to her, “I heard you were back in Irrakam but I never did find you.”

She shrugged and smiled back at him, though she couldn’t really give him the genuine smile he deserved, “I didn’t really want to be found.”

“Oh? Jya wants you to be the ambassador for the Calerian tribe she’s—”

“I know.” Ira said cutting him off and pointing to Izvilvin, “I’ve been caught already. It’s his mission. I think we’re here to prove that I have reluctantly agreed to take him to Astaka and to get the Priestesses ready for the journey. We won’t be leaving until tomorrow though, bright and early once the sun touches the sand.”

He folded her arms across the expanse of armour covering his chest, “You don’t sound too happy about this.”

“C’mon, Alikam, my people have lived without the help or interference of Jya for a very long time. We were happy enough making everyone believe our tribe was extinct and because of my actions that’s all going to change now, would you be happy about it?”

He took a moment to answer, “It could have benefits.”

“Yeah and it might not.” She shook her head and sighed.

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Don’t worry about it too much. It’s not your decision to make. Unless there’s more you’re not telling me and you’re actually the leader of your tribe.”

Ira laughed, “Hardly.”

“Alright then. Just leave all the worrying to your leader. Oh, and did you want me to pass on the message to the Priestesses.”

“That would be great.”

“Alright, just wait here and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Ira nodded and watched as Alikam walked off into areas of The Keep she could probably get in to if she tried, but didn’t feel like making a scene. So instead she waited and hoped not to run into anyone else that just might recognize and know her.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin walked through the Keep's main hall with his head straight. He'd seen the tapestries a thousand time already. The place had grown very familiar to him over these past months, so much so that he could navigate the winding halls and the complex staircases with ease. He had some measure of noteriety in the Keep as well, due to the way he'd first entered it, and of course because of his heritage. A man breaking into the well-guarded fortress was not often welcomed in as a resident.

Looking back to watch as Ira was distracted, the Drow waited for a moment. He looked from the woman to the man, then turned and headed down the hallway. A quick message to the Jya probably wouldn't take too long, and he'd be back by the time they were finished speaking.

The female guards before the Jya's door opened it for him so he didn't need to slow his step. Izvilvin nodded at them both and proceeded inside, to where the Jya was taking in conversation with Mazoo Lichten, the Keep wizard. One of them, anyway. They each looked at Izvilvin in turn, and though Mazoo was not overly friendly, his smile of greeting was just as wide as the Jya's.

"I found the woman. We'll be heading out in the morning for Astaka. I thought I should let you know," said the throw in his high, musical voice, knowing full well the Jya could understand him perfectly.

"Good," she said in return. "That was very quick, Izvilvin, thank you."

He merely nodded in response, gave a quick nod to Mazoo as well, and turned from the seated friends to make his way out of the room again. From the connecting hallway, it was a quick turn of a corner to his own room, where he entered to go through his things. He took a light grey cloak and a full skin of water, placing them by his bed for the morning.

With that, he quickly made his way back to the downstairs hall, where Ira was standing alone. Izvilvin could see the man returning. "Thanks," he said to Ira, knowing she'd probably been waiting alone for a few moments.

[Iriah Caitrak]

When Ira turned around after Alikam left she found herself standing alone in the hallway. Izvilvin was nowhere to be found. He’s probably slipped out while she’d been making conversation with Alikam, to where, she could only think of one place, The Jya. Patience was a virtue, so Ira folded her arms under her chest and casually leaned against one of the bare walls, waiting for either Alikam or Izvilvin to return. It appeared they both had good timing, for Izvilvin appeared and thanked her for something she didn’t understand and then Alikam came through a different set of doors moments later.

“Ira, I informed the Priestesses you’ll be heading out tomorrow morning, bright and early.”

She nodded her head in thanks, “I hope they’re prepared for the journey, because if one of them starts complaining about anything...”

He smiled, “They’re not pushovers, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

“Yeah…”

“Hey, I was…wondering…”

Ira raised a brow as his voice trailed off, “Any time now, Alikam…”

“You’re friend that…didn’t make it…”

She looked away from him, whatever smile or lightness had been gracing her features disappearing in an instant.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

He raised a hand as if to offer some sort of comfort to her then changed his mind, gave her a small smile and headed out, “Good luck on your journey…”

“Yeah…you too.” She spoke it so softly she doubted he’d even heard her.

Forcing a smile onto her face, Ira turned back to Izvilvin not really sure what to do, “Well, what do you want to do with the rest of the day?” Not that he was going to understand any of the words coming out of her mouth. Being alone for the rest of the day did not sound too appealing.

“C’mon…”

She at least wanted to get out of The Keep and she knew of this really beautiful spot around back in the gardens. Leading the way out of the main area of The Keep, Ira led Izvilvin out back where there was a beautiful garden planted. Trees of all kinds, from short and colourful bushes to tall trees with large leaves so heavy they bended towards the dust ground. The moot surrounding The Keep divided the garden from the rest of Irrakam, but the clear water was drawn through the garden itself flowing down in spectacular and small waterfalls and ponds where fish swam up to the surface as they approached.

Beautiful was the word any person could use to describe it but it was more so than that. It was a little refuge away from the searing heat and desolation of the desert. Sitting down a large pink rock warmed by the sun Ira dipped her hand into the clear water feeling the light touch of the fish brush against her fingertips.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin followed the purple-haired woman out back, to a spot that was all-too-familiar to the Drow. This garden was where he'd spent a lot of his time sparring with Laix and Palmer, his friends who were both killed only days earlier. There was a clearing between the river and a portion of the garden that provided a narrow path, and this was where they would practice.

A small hill near the rear left corner of the Keep was where a small hill lay, and atop it, Palmer's blade, nestled snugly in the dirt right where Izvilvin had driven it in. The man's real body, along with that of Laix, was buried under the desert where noone could ever find it. He still regretted that he'd been unable to at least preserve their bodies for a rightful burial, but the roof had been dripping liquid adamantine.

Seeing the greatsword made him express something in between a smile and a frown. The loss of his best friends wasn't much unlike that of Ira's, really, though Izvilvin had no other friends to fall back on. He'd deal with it, having spent a great deal of his life alone up to this point anyway, but it was hurtful nonetheless.

His eyes observed Ira as she went to the water. She was elegant in some way, swaggering just slightly as the wind tossed the flyaways of her hair about. She could be a noble, he supposed, though he didn't place even the slightest bit of importance on such a title.

He went next to her and knelt, thick strands of white hair falling by his face as he dipped his fingers into the water. No fish brushed against him, but the cool aqua soothed his heart. The upcoming travel through the desert didn't worry him, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind wondered often what would happen if the Calerians didn't take kindly to their visit.

He hummed a little tune he'd learned as a child. The words meant nothing, but the melody was light and high, with a quick tempo. It often came to his mind in peaceful moments like these.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira listened to the tune Izvilvin was humming as she continued to brush her fingers through the water. His voice was very calming to listen to and after only a few moments it brought that smile which seemed to elude her so much these days back to her face. After a few minutes of listening to him she picked up the tune and began to hum along, it would sound lovely with a nice and heavy drum going along in the background and a group of Calerian warriors dancing in front of a bonfire to it. The more she thought about it the more she realized it would fit in nicely with their Festival of the Dead celebration. She could already see a good dance to this forming in the back of her mind.

Taking her hand out of the pond, Ira flicked what water was dripping off her fingers towards Izvilvin with a smirk as she stopped humming along with him. Sitting back on the warm stone she studied him for a moment. No matter how many times she looked at him he always seemed fascinating in her mind and she couldn’t even ask him about his race and his culture and what they did. It was a little on the annoying side since she loved hearing about different cultures, plus, she wanted to know why his skin was black.

“Teach me Drow.”

It was out of her mouth before she even though twice about it.

She always loved learning new things and what better than to learn a new language. Plus it might actually help them communicate with one another and she usually caught on quickly she just needed to be taught the basics. The rest she’d probably pick up just from hearing him constantly speak it.

Not really knowing if he understood what she’d said or not, Ira pointed to him, “You,” then she pointed to herself, “teach me Drow.”

Playing a guessing game was not something she ever really liked doing and that’s exactly what the two of them were doing when they tried to talk. Of course, not all things needed to be said aloud, sometimes it was nice to find someone you were comfortable with in silence. But there was comfortable in silence and having a language barrier blocking what would be normal communication.

[Izvilvin]

The song seemed to go on for ages, each note bringing back a particular, happy memory from Izvilvin's past. It was the first time in years that he'd looked back on his youth positively, not thinking of Vordutin and the death of his father, nor his desperate struggle to live in the mines. He was remembering childhood friends, times when he was young enough to remember his father, games he used to play with his mother, and some of the better things about training.

A wide smile was on him as Ira joined in, and the experience seemed all too familiar. Again, he was thinking of his mother.

The light splash of water against his cheeks snapped him out of it, but his smile only grew wider. A look toward Palmer's sword added a depth to the joy, a cosmic reminder that he could overcome any pain or trial. He was Izvilvin Kaz'izzrym, after all, good Drow of Alerar and truthful ally to the good.

He sat back and ended his serenade, eyes following Ira as she, too, seemed to sit back and think. The words she spoke were at first too fast, but when she sat forward intently and reiterated, more slowly this time, he understood. She wanted him to teach her his language. He laughed lightly, his voice melodic and truly elflike, and he shrugged. It was an idea.

He raised a hand and waved to her. "Hi," he said in the common tongue. He lowered his hand and repeated the gesture, this time saying, "echk." Even the Drow could see the lack of flair in the native word.

Again he waved, "bye. Deshmal. Deshmal, Ira," he said, pronouncing her name Ee-Rah, having never heard it. To add to his explanation, he turned as he sat and pretended to walk off and leave.

"I," he said, pointing to his own chest. "Usstan."

Izvilvin considered for a moment, then held out his hand, palm pointing forward with fingers turned up. "Stop. Vrine'winith."

He thought and was unable to come up with anything important to teach her. He stood and looked about, pointing at a few different things in the immediate area. "Pick," he said, implying that she should pick an item for him to identify for her.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira listened to Izvilvin and his quick explanation of a few words. She repeated them softly aloud and a few times within her own head for good measure, just to make sure that she remember them. The word for hi was a rather funny sounding one to her; it reminded her of something you’d say when you just ate a rather distasteful food. And when he started to walk away from her emphasizing the word bye, or deshmal, she couldn’t help but laugh. She didn’t even mind the fact that he pronounced her name wrong; she actually thought it was kind of cute coupled with his accent.

She had been hoping that Drow would be similar to Fallien, but so far she couldn’t find any. Not when you’ve got the word for bye as deshmal and amantr. There were no similarities there, but that didn’t bother her too much. It would have made learning the language easier but she doubted she’d have a hard time with it anyway, especially if she was going to be around someone who did nothing but speak it.

Looking around the beautiful garden when he said to pick something, Ira caught sight of a sword buried in one of the hills behind her. It hadn’t been there the last time she was here and she had no idea why there was a sword in such a place like this but she quickly shrugged it off. Someone had put it there for a reason.

Leaning further onto her side, Ira pointed to the pond and the fish within, “Water,” She let her fingers skim the surface again then dipped them below and brushed up against the scales of one of the many creatures swimming beneath the surface and their own little world, “fish.”

Maybe she’d help make his Common repertoire grow a little bigger at the same time that he was helping to expand on her knowledge of different languages.

Taking her hand out of the cool water she reached to the side of the pond and picked one of the beautiful lilies growing along the edge. It’s large petals bent downwards from an explosively colourful orange centre. It was a beautiful plant and with a smile still on her face, Ira handed it to Izvilvin.

“Flower.”

[Izvilvin]

A grin on his face, Izvilvin tried hard to store away the new information given to him. Fish and water went hand in hand, and wouldn't be a problem for him to recall. If ever he was going to gain some kind of grasp on the language, this was the best method to do so, he was sure.

"Niar," he said, dipping his fingers into the water as Ira had done. Indicating the swimming creatures below the surface, he spoke again, "Leith."

His eyes flashed with delight when she handed him the flower. It was a gesture he found sweet, even though he'd never heard that giving a flower to somebody was a sign of friendship. "Flower," he said, pronouncing it better than most of the words he could speak in the language. "Anon."

Tucking the flower delicately into his belt, next to one of his sai, he then pointed to himself. "Drow," he said flatly, his voice lower and less enchanting than it'd been earlier. "Ilythiiri."

Repeating the name of his race filled Izvilvin will a mixture of pride and shame. His people were not exactly appreciated, after all. Even in Alerar, the Drow ruled with passionate aggression, a supreme arrogance about everything they do.

The sky had grown darker in their time outside, though the Drow could see it was only becoming late afternoon. It was nearly time for dinner, and Izvilvin only realized then just how hungry he was. He hadn't had a real meal since Sasarai killed Laix and Palmer, having eaten nothing more than a few bites of meat and a few small potatoes and vegetables. He found his hunger returning to him again.

He made an eating movement with his hands and mouth, pretending to scoop something up and eat it. "Draeval whol yacal," he said. Time for eating.

The Drow was happy that he would not have to eat alone.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Watching Izvilvin was like reading a book in many ways. The mixture of emotions that passed across his face, he never bothered to try and hide any of them. Though she was not sure exactly what provoked some of the emotions she knew it was not her place to pry into his mind and personal life. Everyone was allowed to have their own sorrows and it was quite obvious that Izvilvin had some as well. It seemed that in each other’s presence they could forget their own problems for a moment and just be normal, or as normal as possible and smile and maybe even share some laughter.

When he made the motion for eating Ira looked towards the sky realizing that it was growing late in the afternoon. Food was not an extremely appealing thing to her at the moment, since Uri’s death she’d barely eaten much of anything and she knew it was beginning to show. She’d lost weight and considering she’d never been extremely heavy to begin with it was probably very unhealthy. Today though, she did find herself in want of something solid to eat, perhaps it was the company of the Drow that was helping her a little bit or perhaps it was something else entirely, she didn’t really know.

“Draeval whol yacal…”

She smiled at him when she said it, a slight blush covering her cheeks. Her voice did not make the words sound as musical as his did but perhaps with a little bit of practice she could say it with that beauty.

Standing up, Ira gave her pants a quick dusting in the back from where she’d been sitting on the rock and then followed Izvilvin into The Keep. He led her through quite a few corridors, a maze of twists and turns and even a few staircases. If she had to find her way back out to the garden she doubted she would be able to. Eventually he took her to a large room set with many tables, benches and chairs. It was just like a banquet hall only not as formal. The walls were decorated with a few tapestries, not as beautiful as those in the more formal areas but still lovely to look at. There were already a few people sitting down at tables and enjoying meals themselves but for the most part the place was not that busy.

Taking a seat at one of the smaller tables, Ira grabbed one of the menus placed there and looked over some of the food options. A few moments later and a woman came by to grab their orders.

“I’ll have some spiced wine and water, and Artabyu, please.”

It was a dish with a mixture of spiced desert foul and various vegetables fried up together and also coated with a very spicy topping. She wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to eat the whole thing but she could certainly try. And if she couldn’t, she might be able to trick Izvilvin into eating some of it and possibly watching the look on his face as the spices kicked in. It was certainly a dish that those foreign to Fallien could barely stomach.

The woman smiled at her and turned to Izvilvin for his order.

[Izvilvin]

A thankful sigh escaped Izvilvin's nostrils, a content expression that often escaped him when he looked at the Keep's menu. Many of the choices had pictures next to them, saving the Drow a whole lot of grief, he imagined. The smell of cooking meat and exotic spices wafted up to his nose, filling the entire room with the ambience of the Fallien delicacies. He'd like pretty much everything he'd eaten since arriving in the desert.

After all, most of it tasted far better than rat.

Though the room was barely occupied when they came in, after only a few moments the noise grew louder, and more and more people were entering to sit down for dinner. Izvilvin pointed at a picture, showed the waitress it -- shrugging as he did so -- and she took the menu. Doing such a childish thing made him feel foolish, but knowing there was no way around it, the Drow didn't chide himself.

What he requested was a plate of thin slices of meat, with some kind of gravy on top of it, with mounds of fluffy white vegetables and potatoes. The picture looked wonderful, but Izvilvin wasn't sure if he'd had it before or not. Often he skipped dinner and picked up a roll or some other small snack, but today was special.

Sitting across from the purple-haired woman, Izvilvin merely observed her. She had made a good impression on him, revealing herself to be a joy as a friend ever since she'd playfully splashed him with some water. Thinking of it brought a high, short laugh from him, but he didn't elaborate on its source.

[Iriah Caitrak]

It was interesting to see him try and get around the language barrier that separated him from everyone else walking around The Keep. He pointed to want he wanted and tried to smile, while looking extremely embarrassed all at the same time. Ira did feel a little sorry for him that he had to resort to such childish ways of communications but she supposed if he actually sat down and attempted to learn Common, it wouldn’t really be all that hard. He already knew a few words and she’d just taught him a few others. He just needed to have time and patience in both himself and whomever he found as a teacher.

Here in the dining area, silence overcame the two of them. It was uncomfortable either. It was just that Ira was used to conversation over dinner and she wasn’t really going to get any from Izvilvin, not unless she opened her big mouth first but she had nothing to talk about. ‘My it’s a really nice day today,’ or ‘it’s sure starting to get busy in here,’ then again there’s the favourite one of ‘hey I’m depressed because my best friend died and I can’t get over it.’ Yeah, all of those sounded like great conversation starters not that he would even understand the words that came out of her mouth if she said them. Ira could probably tell Izvilvin that she hated him and he would just smile and nod his head since he wouldn’t understand her.

It was frustrating to say the least.

After a few more minutes of silence she did eventually find something to talk about. It had intrigued her slightly at the time but she’d pushed it to the back of her mind.

“Your weapons.” She pointed down towards his waist where the belt holding up those weird three pronged things were held, he looked rather confused and grabbed the belt making Ira nod her head, “Yeah the weapons.”

He removed one of them from the belt and handed it to her. Grasping it around the handle she was actually quite surprised by the weight of it. Then again, Calerian formed weapons were on the lighter side, but still, it wasn’t that big and it had quite a weight to it. Flipping it around in her hand she smiled and created an exact replica of it in her free hand. The only difference was her was lighter and possibly stronger than his since his appeared to just be made of Iron. Perhaps she’d get him to show her a thing or two with them on their travels, but not now and not over dinner.

“Thanks.”

Handing him back his, Ira held the one she’d created over the side of the table and let it go. It hit the ground with a metallic clang, flipping over and disappearing, dispersing the energy it took to recreate it. The woman came back to them then and set out their plates of food. Ira grabbed the flagon and wine and poured herself a hefty glass and drank half of it right there before she started picking at her food.

“Try some.”

She pushed the plate closer to Izvilvin.

[Izvilvin]

To say the least, trying to find a way to entertain Ira while they waited for their food was difficult. A man who couldn't tell stories, ask questions, or even answer them, Izvilvin was sometimes faced with such a challenge. He tried to think of a way to communicate his love for this desert region, about how it was so different from where he'd grown up and where he'd first gone after fleeing Corone. It was, despite the monsters and the occasional disputes, a peaceful land.

Part of him even wanted to talk about his youth, about the intensive training that had transformed him from a bright-eyed young Drow to the durable warrior he was today. Of course he still retained far too much of his innocence for a man his age, but from a physical standpoint, Izvilvin was all wiry muscle and compact power. He owed a lot of his endurance to the torturous, unbelievable treatment he and his peers recieved when they were children.

Fortunately he was snapped from these thoughts by Ira's desire to see one of his sai. He flipped one of them into her hand, observed her as she felt it, then marveled at the way she used some form of magic to craft her own. As much as he liked the woman, a grimace crossed his face as he saw her use the ability, for the casting reminded him of Sasarai.

He took the weapon back and slid it effortlessly back into his belt, then watched intently, truly unable to avert his eyes, as the crafted sai in Ira's hand dropped to the ground and seemed to disintigrate. Before he could comment, the food arrived, and Izvilvin found himself staring lustfully down upon a plate of steaming food.

The meet was tender and cooked well, the gravy slightly spicy and providing a layer of flavor that the Drow found incredible. It felt good to finally eat something of substance, and to be doing so in the presence of a new friend. When Ira slid her own plate over and offered him some, he couldn't pass it up.

The meat was spicy and still hot from the grill, but Izvilvin handled it well. He chewed and swallowed quickly, but the spicy aftertaste bothered him a bit, and it showed in his expression. Still, the meat itself was delicious, and that's what he appreciated. He offered Ira a taste of his own dinner.

+#$!%@

When his meal was done, and the crowd was at its greatest, Izvilvin thought it was best to get some rest. Ira, he felt, could do as she pleased for the night, but he needed to regain some energy for the long journey in the morning. He made a gesture with his hands that suggested he was going to bed, then he made another which suggested she follow, so he could show her where she could stay for the night.

There was a guest bedroom not far from his and the Jya's, on the highest floor of the Keep. He would show her there and then collapse into slumber.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira couldn’t help but note the look on Izvilvin’s face when she formed the replica of his weapon. Most people were curious or surprised and he had been slightly too but then the grimace that had quickly covered it up was something she could not explain. She wanted to know what it was about the way she created the weapon to bring about such a reaction but the language barrier between them kept her from doing so. He would not understand her question and she could not comprehend his answer. Perhaps one of these days she would find out, but not now.

They ate in silence, sharing food between the two of them and Ira was quite surprised that he could handle the hot spices on her dish. Perhaps he’d already had it, or maybe he was just accustomed to the spicy food that was traditional and normal in Fallien culture. Either way, despite the fact that there was no conversation flowing between the two of them it was a comfortable dinner and she ate much more than she thought she could. It was nowhere near the large meals she used to be able to stuff down, but it was more than what she’d been eating lately and that in itself made her happy. Perhaps she was getting her appetite back.

At the end of the meal, when the activity in the dining area was at it’s hardest; Izvilvin appeared to want to leave. At first she didn’t really understand him, then she it finally dawned on her that he meant to go to sleep. She wasn’t really tired, in fact her mind was wide-awake and working, but she didn’t say anything to him.

Nodding her head, she stood up from their table and allowed him to lead her to another part of The Keep. At first she thought he was going to take her back to The Rising Phoenix, but it appeared that he meant for her to stay here. She didn’t object, the Keep had amazingly comfortable beds that absorbed her, but all of her things were back at the resort. Then again, last time she’d been here she hadn’t needed a thing, every one of them provided for her.

At the highest point of The Keep, he stopped and motioned to one of the doors, then pointed further down the hall. She was pretty sure he meant that this was her room and right down there was his—if she needed anything—but she could have been wrong.

Smiling, she nodded her head, “Good night.” Then, before she could think about it and change her mind, she took a step closer to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Hiding the blush on her cheeks by quickly turning around, Ira opened her door and slipped into her lavish room. A little too wound up to even think about heading off to bed, she did the next best thing and headed off into the bathroom and draw herself an extremely hot and relaxing bath.

[Izvilvin]

Full and sleepy, Izvilvin led Ira to her room without much flair, unfortunately. He was anxious to get some rest, but what she did snapped him from exhaustion completely. Unexpecting of the kiss, the Drow didn't have a chance to react before she fled into her room, shutting the door and sealing him in the dark hallway.

The feeling he had was all too familiar. It was the slight yet strong tug of emotion, the same kind he'd felt when he and Rheawien were traveling in the desert to purge the poison that had leveled Suravani's Oasis. This time, however, Izvilvin felt a seething rage beside it, a reminder of the pain one could feel if he allowed himself the pleasure of a woman.

Regardless of what had happened, Izvilvin still found a good night's rest ahead of him. The next morning would be the beginning of an important day for Irrakam.

()()()()()()

Clad in the light grey cloak he'd set out on the previous day, an equipped and prepared Izvilvin met with one of the two priestesses he and Ira were to travel with to Astaka. The second was off fetching the would-be ambassador, and in truth, Izvilvin was not anxious to see her. Her kiss might have been but a friendly expression, but the way she'd immediately fled his sight suggested otherwise. The Drow simply wasn't ready, nor willing, to even consider something of the sort.

So he prepared his horse alone, outside, by the ferry that would take them across the river and on the trail to the home of the Calerians. He dangled the waterskin from the side of the saddle, and hearing footsteps approaching he turned, hood drawn up to protect from the sun.

[Iriah Caitrak]

The Priestess that had been sent to fetch Ira returned empty handed. Having not found the woman in her rooms and asking around The Keep proving futile, she had decided to return and inform the others, hoping the Drow named Izvilvin might have some ideas as to where the woman went. Without her, there would be no point for this mission to continue and since he recruited her, she thought it a much better idea than blindly searching The Keep and the rest of Irrakam for her.


------------------------------

“You didn’t come back last night.”

Ira glanced up from the pile of things she had been massing on what had been her bed for the past little while in The Rising Phoenix. The woman who ran the place, Natalyn as finally she remembered her name, was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her hip.

Tucking stray strands of hair away from her eyes, Ira shrugged her shoulders, “I know, I’m sorry about that. I stayed at The Keep last night.”

The woman raised a brow and walked into Ira’s room as Ira herself turned back to packing her extra clothes into her rucksack as well as a few hygienic necessities.

“You must really have some friends in high places.”

Once again she shrugged, she wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk about this, “Not really…” Realizing she had everything she came with the Calerian turned to the woman, “How much do I owe you?”

She folded her arms across her chest, “Nothing, someone from The Keep came by earlier this morning and paid for your lodgings.”

Ira sighed and rolled her eyes. It would have been nice if whoever had done that could have at least asked her, told her or perhaps even collected her things. Why was she always the last one to find out about things like this? She had her own money and could pay for her own lodgings; she didn’t need anyone from The Keep doing her any kind of favours.

“All right then…I better get going.”

The woman nodded her head and moved out of her way, “Safe journey.”

“Thanks.”

Giving Natalyn one of her now rare smiles, Ira slipped into the straps of her rucksack and headed out of The Rising Phoenix and into the bustling streets of Irrakam. Taking the back streets cut time off her journey and in less than a half hour Ira was back at The Keep. Asking around, she was quickly able to find out where Izvilvin and the Priestesses were, preparing for their journey outside by the ferry. Once there, she found the Drow and the Priestesses preparing themselves, four horses just about ready for the journey.

“Good morning.”

The Priestesses nodded and smiled at her, returning the gesture, both of who were looking extremely relieved at her arrival, though Ira really didn’t know why. Perhaps they thought she wasn’t going to show up. Walking over to her horse, Ira tested and adjusted the saddle, then attached her rucksack to the side of it. Unwrapping the shawl around her shoulders, then wrapping it around her in another way, Ira created a hood and a facemask, leaving only her eyes exposed. She would prefer to go by foot, she was used to travelling by foot, but she supposed the horses would make things easier though not that much faster. Horses were not the best choice of animal to cross the desert sands in.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin replied with a mere nod when Ira finally arrived. He wasn't sure how he felt about last night's sudden kiss, and wasn't sure it had meant anything at all. All the same, it had unnerved him, and the Drow was content to not revisit the situation again. He merely needed time to gather his thoughts.

The ferry was quick and efficient, taking the four travelers across the river Attireyi in a matter of minutes. Izvilvin disembarked on the open sand and mounted his horse with the fluidity of an experienced rider. The wind was light, fortunately, but the sun still beat down as it always did. The Drow was used to the feeling by now, of course, but even with the protected of his cloak, he was not anywhere near comfortable.

He had some idea of where Astaka lay, but receeded behind a leading priestess nonetheless, to allow a more knowledgeable guide to lead the way. He would keep an eye out around them, to make sure no creatures were able to sneak up on the group.

The beginnings of movement were slow and uneventful. Izvilvin kept a watchful eye about and the party moved steadily, the durable steeds taking steps in the sand and not showing signs of tiring anytime soon. A long journey lay ahead, Izvilvin knew, and his mind was on Ira's ability to speak to her people.

But she'd reminded him of Rheawien, or rather, the events that had occured between himself and the mighty female warrioress. Thinking about those times made him want to distance himself from Ira, which was precisely what he was doing at that moment. Then again, if he let those past occurences influence him so much, didn't that make Rheawien's betrayal all the more terrible? He wanted to fight it, truly he did, but the need to protect himself won out in the end.

[Iriah Caitrak]

It was not the first time Ira had ridden a horse and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but she would definitely prefer if she were walking on her own two feet. The saddle wasn’t exactly comfortable either and after a few hours she could already feel the muscles along the inside of her thighs growing tired. She knew she’d really be feeling this tomorrow morning making the further journey that much more uncomfortable.

On top of that, Izvilvin had yet to say a single thing to her, or even look at her. Perhaps her moment of spontaneity last night had been a grave mistake, something she should have thought through more. There was nothing she could do about it now, only make sure that it never happened again. And if her actions made Izvilvin distance himself from her than that was his choice brought out by an error in judgement on her behalf. If fortune favoured her, he could forget it ever happened, if not, then he could play his game of silence and she would be happy to oblige, it mattered not to her.

The day was hot and sun beat down on them relentlessly from the open blue skies, not a cloud in sight, which wasn’t too surprising. Ira was used to the heat and the sun, she didn’t necessarily need the wrap to protect her from the sun she needed it to protect her from any sand storms that might pop up without a moment’s notice.

The Priestesses were quiet as well, neither of them speaking much except for choice words between themselves. However, Ira did notice that the two of them were carefully observing the way that she was taking them. Off in the distance, if one was able to look passed the glare in the sand, they could see the Ruins of Kesta. Walls of stone that were once homes, businesses and peoples lives now being reduced to shadows of their formal selves, worn away by time and weather. Ira had been to the Ruins of Kesta once before and from there she had travelled to Purgatory to release the tormented souls trapped within. She had fought, nearly died and then been corrupted there in those ruins and the unknown Calerian’s Irenian crystal that she had stolen from Metran still hung around her neck, nestled safely against her own.

Ripping her gaze from the ruins and painful memories, Ira looked further into a vast desert of nothing that seemed to spread out forever before. They were heading in the direction of Suravani’s Oasis. Izvilvin had to know this and the Priestesses too, but once they reached the first resting area, Ira would turn their course away from the Oasis. However, they were not going to reach there until closer to nightfall.

Hours passed and the sun climbed higher in the sky, then eventually began to fall behind them. The Ruins of Kesta had long since disappeared from sight, as had Irrakam and the river Attireyi. The horses were making things a little faster than Ira had expected and within the next four or five hours they should hit their first safe sleeping area, giving them plenty of time to set up and for her to hunt for some food before night hit. Coming upon a rather large dip in the sand before them, Ira pulled back tightly on the reins of her horse, stopping it dead in it’s tracks.

“Stop!” She held up her one hands, in case anyone didn’t hear her.

The crater in an otherwise long stretch of smooth, flat sand was about fifty feet wide and thirty feet long. And sporadically placed within it were spots of dark red sand, almost like bloodstains yet with no visible body.

“Arta.” She snarled the word.

As committed as Calerian’s were to helping and saving the dead, Arta were creatures that no Calerian took on alone unless they had some sort of death wish and she had none. Even the horse she was riding sensed something amiss, his hoof pawing into the sand in front of it as it shook it’s head from side to side, fearful eyes looking around for the cause of it’s instinctive alarm.

“We’ll go around them…”

Ira pulled to one side of the reins, manoeuvring the horse away from the crater and towards safer ground, her head turned, keeping her eyes on the dark spots of sand.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin was sweating under the hood of his cloak, but as least the sun was not reaching his skin. His breathing was deep and steady, controlled for he knew rapid breathing would exhaust him. The going was slow and uneventful, an the Drow could only stand it by completely zoning out, allowing his horse to carry him as he dozed.

Ira's loud, sudden call midway through their journey snapped him back into reality, and he halted his horse immediately after the others. He looked about as the woman spoke, trying to find what it was she was warning them of since he could not understand her words.

Quickly enough, they resumed their movement, and Izvilvin located the red blotches of sand within the lower levels of the dunes. He kept his eyes on them as they took the long route around, avoiding the spots. Despite having traveled to Suravani's Oasis at least a half-dozen times, the Drow hadn't come across such things before, nor had he seen an Arta. Harpies, yes, along with scorpions, but nothing else. He'd been pretty fortunate, he realized.

Ira moved and spoke with a confidence that until then, he hadn't noticed. It made him smile slightly, but he was still confused. Did human women always play such games, with kissing meaning different things all the time?

He didn't think long before his horse neighed and buckled, throwing him forward with enough force to send him sailing through the air. Izvilvin landed and rolled into the sand to find his feet, and witnessed the horse, a single leg held in a hand reaching up from the desert itself, shudder on the ground. The hand pressed against the sand and pulled its owner up, as an Arta revealed itself from the grains.

The creature was covered in torn old rags, like oil-soaked sheets one might use in desperation to light a blaze. Its eyes were bright orange, glowing like the sun itself, and its face was twisted into an expression of sheer terror. Izvilvin's heart raced at just seeing the thing, but when it drew a rusted old scimitar from its back and tore through the sand at him, he didnt hesitate.

The Arta moved surprisingly fast, but Izvilvin was just quick enough to dive to the side, drawing a sai in one hand and a clear, lavender kukri from his back in the other. Around him, more Arta rose, two of them killing the horses of the priestesses in a familiar manner.

Izvilvin's opponent swung fast, swinging the scimitar like an ancient warrior. The Drow ducked and trailed the arm with his kukri, slashing the thing's forearm with an uncanny speed. The Arta showed no sign of pain and drove forward again, screaming a horrid cry that chilled the warrior's bones. Its scimitar drove forward, but Izvilvin pulled his hip away from the blade, then swiftly ducked under it and dove forward, driving forward with his sai to plunge the main prong into the front of the Arta's pelvis.

The scimitar came back furiously, a horizontal swipe fueled by fury, but once again the Drow was too fast, ducking under it and losing a few of his ivory hairs as a result. Before he could counter, the screech of another undead creature brought his attention to his left, where another Arta with a warhammer was coming at him. It swung upward, narrowly missing Izvilvin's chin, but its quick punch caught him square in the chest, driving the air out of him and nearly unbalancing the elf.

He took a quick look toward Ira to check on her situation, but had to turn his head back to the Arta behind him as its scimitar came thrusting forward. The bite of steel caught Izvilvin's shoulder, but he backed out of the strike quickly enough that the wound was shallow.

Seething, the Drow shifted about until he could see both opponents. He needed to buy himself some time, this he knew, for without all of their horses, the four travelers could not hope to escape the quick creatures.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira stopped as she heard the sounds of Izvilvin’s horse, turning around just in time to see him flung from the back of the creature. Under different circumstances she might have laughed at him and perhaps thrown a few choice remarks about learning to control ones animal, but those ideas were cut short the moment she saw the hand reaching forth from the sand. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart began to beat twice as fast. She didn’t need to witness the creature pulling the horse down and rising up from it’s grave to know exactly what was happening and who was attacking them.

Arta…

Even though they’d gone around, the Arta had sensed them anyways and had followed until this moment when they chose to attack. If there was one thing that Ira hated, it was Arta. They claimed more Calerian lives every year than Fallen did. They were stronger than Fallen, smarter and usually attacked in greater numbers easily overwhelming the lone Calerian warrior.

Feeling her horse grow agitated below her, Ira pulled on the reins only to watch the hand of an Arta reach through the sand and grab onto her horse’s leg. The horse began to panic, but Ira quickly got it under control, formed her Naginata and severed the hand of the Arta right from its wrist. The hand disappeared under the sand but Ira knew it was not the last she had seen of the creature, it would probably arise from anywhere.

Looking towards the Priestesses, the Calerian could see that they were in some major trouble. Both their horses had been killed by the Arta and neither of them were carrying any weapons. Perhaps they knew magic attacks, perhaps not but either way there were two Arta, both of whom were welding scimitars and heading straight for them. Digging her heels into the sides of the horse, she spurred the beast towards the Priestesses, overriding its fears with her commands.

Kicking up sand all around the creature as it charged towards the Priestesses, Ira held out her Naginata to the side and used the end of it like a spear, skewering the long blade into the back of one of the Arta and then ripping it out the side before having to turn her horse around and try charging again. This time, she watched as the Priestesses each began to chant and a wall of hard sand began to form around the Arta like the bars of a prison. Then with a quick wave of their hands the bars collapsed crushing the Arta into the sand.

“No! Sand cannot kill an Arta, it’s their safe haven!”

The Priestesses turned to her too late as a hand reached up from the sand and grabbed the leg of one of them, slowing pulling itself up, sand falling off it’s body like water as half of it’s body was revealed and it produced a scimitar, preparing to cleave the Priestess in two. Forming her Naginata into a bow and arrow, Ira quickly strung the weapon and took aim at the Arta, then let the arrow fly, whizzing through the air and hitting the Arta in the head. But her aim was off, and the tip of the arrowhead had ripped through the woman’s clothes and grazed against the thigh of the Priestess, leaving a small trail of blood and torn flesh in its wake.

With no time to worry about the small wound, Ira pushed the thought from her mind, “Sever their heads, or disconnect their spinal cords, it’s the only way to truly kill them!”

Unlike the normal undead that Ira had come into contact with in Raiaera, Arta had souls for it was their souls and the hatred within them that kept them rooted to this world. After her arrow pierced through the face of the one Arta she could watch the soul leave the body, twisted in anger and corruption, but she turned away from it. She would have to deal with it later, it could no longer return to its body anyway.

Pulling sharply on her horse, the only one that was still alive, Ira turned to see Izvilvin facing two Arta on his own. Turning the bow back into her Naginata, Ira dug her heels into the sides of the horse again and began to race towards the Drow. One of her hands firmly holding the reins and the other wrapped around the shaft of her Naginata. It took her only a few seconds to approach the Arta and ram the blade through the shrivelled flesh and into the vertebra at the base of the creature’s neck. Letting go of the weapon as she continued to gallop by, Ira missed seeing the orange glowing eyes fade as the creature fell to the sand below, the soul slowly arising form the body. Her weapon disappeared and she quickly formed another one, coming back for another charge. Only an Arta grabbed the leg of her horse, causing the beast to suddenly stop and Ira was flung from her saddle, smashing her head, shoulder and hip into the sand, which was not as soft as it appeared.

Groaning, Ira slowly got to her hands and knees, shaking her head, sending sand flying all around her as she attempted to put some sense into it. Right before her, the sand shifted and hand shot through it, wrapping shrivelled and bony fingers around her neck, biting into the flesh and closing around her throat in a death grip. Struggling to breathe, Ira was slowly lifted upwards as the Arta slowly pulled itself from the sand, eventually lifting her off her feet, which dangled and kicked towards its legs with no success.

Grabbing the creature’s hand, Ira tried to pry its fingers from her neck without success. Forming a short sword in her other hand, she attempted to cleave head from neck, coming in from the side only to have the creature grab her wrist and bend it back until the tiny bones snapped and the weapon felt from her limp fingers. She would have cried out from the pain of it if she could, but the creatures grasp around her throat wouldn’t allow for it and the Arta only tightened his grip, threatening to break her very neck.

[Izvilvin]

A scimitar came from high to cut down the Drow, but he was far too skilled to be hit by the simple strike. His clear glass kukri caught the blade in the curve and he drove it aside, just as Icicle came down to intercept the strike of the second Arta's warhammer before it could gain any momentum. The enchanted blade left a clear sheet of ice along the shaft as Izvilvin dragged it along, seconds before his left leg stepped back to avoid the lunge of the blade-wielding undead.

The second Arta gripped higher on his hammer and came in close for a swing, but his grip slipped on the ice that had appeared, causing it to hesitate. It was then that Ira rode in, shearing the spine of the scimitar-wielding one. One threat gone, Izvilvin came in close to the other, slashing furiously with his kukri while keeping Icicle at the ready in his right hand. One, two, three strikes into the Arta's chest and gut.

It roared in response and lifted its hammer, unphased by the wounds that would have felled any normal monster. The hammer came down hard, but it hit only sand as the Drow rolled around the creature, driving Icicle into its spine and straight through its undead body.

Only then did he sense the commotion behind him. Turning, he witnessed Ira at the mercy of a single Arta, who held her off the ground from behind. The Drow dropped his weapons, and in one swift movement, drew two sai and let them soar. An instant after each other, both weapons embedded themselves in the skull of the Arta, a mere inch apart, and less distance than that from Ira's own head.

The heavy weapons seemed to stun the creature, and before it could fully recover, Izvilvin was there, Icicle flashing forward in a precise stab that took its head. The thing released Ira and burst into ash. The Drow immediately put his weapons back into their places and took a quick look about, noting that no more Arta were on the surface.

A smile on his face, he reached out and took her shoulders. "Good?" he asked.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira continued to struggle against the creature with all the dwindling strength she had in her. Her limbs were growing harder to harder to move, no matter how hard she tried her legs wouldn’t kicked hard enough, even with her mind screaming at them. This was it, she wasn’t even going to make it back to Astaka, she was going to die at the hands of some filthy Arta like so many of her fallen comrades.

The grip on her throat tightened just a little more and Ira could unconsciousness beginning to encroach upon her mind. Little dark spots were beginning to render her vision useless, clouding over the images of the withered and emaciated face of the Arta. This was not the way she had imagined herself going out. The fingers around her throat suddenly released her and Ira fell hard to the sand below, coughing as she tried to take in too many shallow breaths at once into her oxygen starved lungs. Colour was beginning to return to her face and her blue lips were already going back to their normal red.

The spots were slowly leaving her vision and Ira felt hands grip her around the shoulder helping her up into a sitting position. She found herself staring into the face of Izvilvin who was smiling down upon her and asking her if she ‘good’.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Ira wrapped the fingers of her good hand around her neck, feeling the swelling that was already taking root in the sensitive skin there. If she could see her neck she would know that bruising was already beginning to show. No, she wasn’t good, she’d just nearly died by the hands of an Arta, her throat was so swollen it was hard to breath out of even without his hand wrapped about it and her wrist was broken, she was far from being good.

“No…”

Pushing Izvilvin’s hands away from her Ira slowly stood up on wobbling feet that seemed to barely have the strength to support her. Looking around what had been their battlefield only moments before, Ira noted the Priestesses, one of whom was healing the other. No bodies were left in the sands, the forms of the Arta disintegrating with no souls within to keep them moving, but the souls had not moved on. Five of them were aimlessly wandering around the battlefield looking at those they had just tried to kill as if they didn’t know what to do with themselves now.

Forming one of her Half Swallows in her hand, Ira approached each of the souls and cut through the black hole in the centre of their chests, releasing all their regrets and evils and watching as their forms changed to that of black and red butterflies before they disappeared. Then she dropped her weapon and fell to the ground, staring into the empty sand.

[Izvilvin]

Even before she pushed his hands away, Izvilvin was looking at the sun. It was far off in the distance and descending slowly, telling him that it was getting late in the afternoon. He knew just how cold the desert got in the night, and even with his cloak about him, the Drow was not willing to try and stay the evening. He hadn't done so since the day Laix and Palmer were killed, and without a wizard he was sure they would be unable to make flame.

While Ira took care of the wandering souls -- Izvilvin wasn't paying attention, and thus was not confused by it -- the Drow packed Ira's horse, which had survived the scuffle without injury. It was lucky, he knew, for the Arta that had grabbed it did not break its leg. He placed all of their luggage on the noble animal, which showed no sign of protest.

They'd have to walk the rest of the way, he knew, and he was worried they wouldn't be able to make it before nightfall.

When the packing was done, Izvilvin went to his fallen kukri and placed it in the sheath near the small of his back. The battle with the Arta had left him with a wounded shoulder, but the tough warrior showed no sign of pain toward it. It couldn't be cleaned with any of his supplies anyhow, so he thought it best to try and deal with the pain until they reached Astaka. Perhaps there, one would be hospitable enough to help him.

Ira's near-death had brought him out of his confusion, however. He realized now how foolish it was to play games with her because of a single occurance.

As if to reflect this realization, Izvilvin looked to her, bent low and scooped up a handful of sand. "Ira!" he called to her. When she looked, he let the grains slip through his dexterous fingers. "I'nik!"

He grinned and took the horse's reigns in his hand, beginning to walk forward. The priestessed saw him coming and began to once again lead the way.

[Iriah Caitrak]

((Remember that Ira is leading this little expedition, not the Priestesses. They have as much an idea as to where they’re going as Izvilvin does.))

There were no words to describe what she was feeling. It was just hollow, she felt so dead at the moment, like the Arta had actually accomplished it’s goals and strangled the very life from her. She stared into the sand not really seeing it, not really seeing anything and just sat there. No thoughts fluttered around in her head and the absence of emotion just ripped right through her. Or perhaps it was not an absence of emotion but rather something she’d never experience before and could not understand or describe.

The sound of her name pulled her out of it and slowly Ira turned around to see Izvilvin slipping grains of sand through his fingers and giving them a name. The smile was slow to form on her lips and didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Sand…Izvilvin, sand…”

Seeing him turn and head towards the Priestesses with the only surviving horse, Ira slowly pulled herself from the ground, hissing as she accidentally jostled she broken wrist. Both her neck and wrist were deeply bruised and turning the colour of a dark purple. Her wrist was going to be a real hassle until they made it to Astaka, but she’d deal with it, she’d been through worse. Broken ribs, nearly dead and corrupted kind of worse.

Looking towards the sun, Ira began leading the way once again.

“A adha adhidusita?”

Ira turned and looked at the priestess who eyes travelled from her face to the wounds on her neck and wrist.

“Bhadra arj.”

The Priestess reached out and grab Ira’s arm and she pulled away from her, “Stiya adhuya a. Niha yad parajana Astaka a atyius!”

Seeing the look of surprise on the woman’s face, Ira turned away from her and once again resumed moving through the desert. A few more hours passed and the sun crept its way down to the desert floor slowly burning into the sand and blinding all who looked in it’s direction. It was beautiful the colours it turned the sand into as it fell from the sky, darkening them to what appeared to be the colour of blood.

Finally, Ira came upon a small gorge in the desert. Hard sand walls descended for a good thirty feet into an area below that was teaming with life compared to what was around it. Small, short trees compared to what she had seen in Concordia dominated the area as well as bushes with thick, short and rubbery leaves. There were even some prickly plants with colourful flowers blooming from the tops of them. It was in no way a forest, but it was a small spot of life in a seemingly dead desert and it was where they were going to be resting for the night. In the centre of it all was a stream, the life source of everything around it.

She’d been here many times before. Leading the way down the side of the gorge, Ira found her favourite spot. A small clearing underneath the taller trees, which would help keep the heat in. The ground was hard instead of sandy like outside the gorge walls and not but three feet away was the gentle sound of trickling water.

[Izvilvin]

Time passed with nothing but the gentle wind to keep Izvilvin occupied. When it came he'd turn his face to it, letting the force of the air push the thin white locks of hair from his forehead. His shoulder burned, but the Drow dealt with the searing pain with occasional grunts or toothy sucks of air.

His nerves became worse and worse as the sun lowered, for he knew a night in the desert would not be good for his wound. All the same, he did his best to hide it from the others, as he led the horse with a single arm. While they did not reach Astaka in a single day's journey, they did come across a rift in the sand that Ira evidently knew of. No medical attention would be found below, the Drow knew, but at least -- to his delight -- there was water.

After a long descent down a sloping sand hill, one Izvilvin was careful to allow the horse to take its time with, the group was at the bottom. The Drow tied the horse to a short tree near the stream, then carefully, painfully, removed his torn shirt. He proceeded to clean his wound with the cold water, getting the sand that had been blown into it out, then replacing his shirt after putting a ripped square of it over the cut.

It was rough, but it'd have to do.

He took some water and splashed it on his face, drank a small amount, and stood. The priestesses, like Ira, had found places they favored and had sat comfortably against the hard sand. Izvilvin thought to do the same, but decided against it. It was getting late, and if there were creatures in the desert that considered this place their nest, someone'd have to be awake to spot them.

Not one to sleep more than a few hours a night anyhow, Izvilvin casually made his way to the opposite end of the stream that the others occupied, sitting upon a large rock that the edge of the water ran against. His lavender eyes shone in the waning sunlight as the Drow prepared for a long night on watch.

[Iriah Caitrak]

It was weird to be here with others. Ira was so used to travelling to and from Astaka by herself that to have company felt…strange. She wasn’t sure what to do; normally she would set up a small camp, do a little hunting and then freshen herself up in the stream if she felt like it. There was a small pooling area further down the way where the water was about four feet deep. But with others here she wasn’t exactly sure if her regular routine was the right thing to do. It seemed as if she would not need to worry about it, everyone else was going off in their own little directions and doing their own things. The Priestesses would probably not talk with her again for the rest of the trip unless she first spoke first and Izvilvin, well, it was hard to talk to him anyway.

Walking over to the stream, Ira use the one hand to could to splash some on her face and then take a drink. Then she dipped her wrist into the icy cold water, sighing and leaving it there for about a minute as it numbed her hand making it just that much more bearable. Once she was done there, she went back to her horse and rummaged through her bag until she found her small medical kit. There wasn’t much she could do about a broken wrist but she wrapped it in layer after layer of cloth to keep it stiff and mostly in the one position. This way it would be harder for her to jostle it.

“Hidhas adha adhidusita, Izvilvin.”

The one Priestess looked up at her and then towards the Drow who had made his way further down the stream. She nodded her head and stood up; making her way down to him she could heal his wounds.

“Abhisamindh, dhi.”

The other nodded her head and Ira turned away from her. She walked deeper into the gorge area, quickly disappearing from those around her. She knew this place well and she knew exactly where to find what she was looking for.

An hour later, with the sun having completely set Ira returned to their little camp. There was now a small fire going, a pile of sticks and branches beside it and blankets laid out on the hard ground for them to sleep upon. And Ira returned carrying two dead foul and an armful of bright red fruit.

“Izvilvin, help.” She looked from him to the things she was carrying, hoping he understood her.

The fruit needed to be washed and the foul needed their feathers removed and then gutted.

[Izvilvin]

The priestess came to him, gently touching his shoulder and attempting to get a look at the wound there. It was a shallow thing, so Izvilvin calmly put a hand on hers and smiled, his eyes assuring her that he didn't need help. He directed her touch away, looking back toward the sky as the Fallien woman shrugged helplessly and walked off.

Time passed as the Drow looked silently into the darkening sky, until Ira's voice called out to him from behind. He turned, saw her, and rose from the boulder to help her, scooping the fruit from her arms and taking them to the river. He'd eaten them before, and knew washing them was necessary.

It was a quick matter of dipping the fruit into the stream, rubbing them with his shirt -- which wasn't quite clean, and then wetting them once more. The clean red glow of the fruit told him they were good to eat, so he bit into one to taste the sweet flavor.

He returned to the others, holding out the fruit so that each of his companions could take one. Standing there before his companions, Izvilvin kept his eyes on Ira. Try as he might, he couldn't forget about the kiss from the night before. She'd thrown him a curveball just when he'd started to understand her. Drow women, he remembered, were far more set on what they did and did not want. They went for what they desired and ignored all else. Human women, in Rheawien's case and seemingly Ira's, they threw mixed signals.

He held to the thought that it was only a friendly gesture, but he couldn't stop thinking about it as he watched her.

[Iriah Caitrak]

As Izvilvin washed the fruit she had collected, Ira set about plucking the feathers from the carcass of the two foul she caught. She gutted the birds and cut their heads off, throwing the remains into the fire so that the smell of blood would not attract any unwanted company. Then she propped the birds on sticks over the flames and waited for them to cook, munching on the fruit that Izvilvin had handed to her to curve her hunger until the foul were cooked.

Izvilvin appeared to be talking with her again but she didn’t know what to make of him. One moment he seemed upset with her and wouldn’t even look in her direction and yet now he was staring at her. Unfortunately, this was not a situation where she could walk over and ask him what was on his mind and why his mood kept changing so drastically. This was a situation where she was forced to sit on a blanket, in the middle of the desert with two Priestesses she wished would get up in the middle of the night and get lost so she wouldn’t have to take them back to Astaka. She wasn’t too sure what she wanted Izvilvin to do, he seemed all right but she was unsure if she could trust him or not. Jya certainly thought she could trust the Drow, but Ira did not trust others solely on the words of someone else.

Standing up, the Calerian grabbed the stick holding one of the birds over the flames and handed it to the two Priestesses. The outside of it was blackened from the flames leaping up and brushing against it but it should still taste fine. The other one she brought over with her as she sat down beside Izvilvin.

“Bird,” Ira said smiling, as she pointed to the roasted creature on a stick, she didn’t want to use the word foul because it had many other meanings in Common and she could not explain them all. Then Ira pointed ahead of her, “fire.”

Ira jammed the end of the stick into the hard dirt before them, forming a small knife in her hand and carving into the meat. She picked off some and handed it over to Izvilvin before she carved off a little for herself as well. The meat wasn’t bad, it would have tasted better seasoned with some of herbs and spices she had back home, but she couldn’t be too picky about things out here. And she hadn’t completely burnt the thing, it was still juicy on the inside, the skin was just a little charred.

Laying back against the blanket, Ira looked up into the clear night sky. The moon was at a crescent, a tiny sliver of its true form floating freely above her, outmatching all of the stars that came out to play in the dance of light once the sun went away. She loved looking at the night sky and could do so for hours. It helps her sort through her problems and reminded her that there were others probably within this very region that were much worse off than she was.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin grinned, moving over to make room for Ira on the boulder he sat upon. He took a ravenous mouthful of the bird as soon as a slab of it was handed to him, enjoying the hot, satisfying food as if he hadn't eaten in days. It lacked the flair of the Keep's food, but was leaps and bounds beyond anything he'd eaten before hand. The Drow palette did not suit him.

Two new words creeped into his subconscious as Ira spoke, and he realized just how helpful she'd been in that regard. He could almost communicate with anyone, he thought, newly confident in his growing vocabulary. He didn't realize yet that he lacked certain key words and links, it and the among them, but that would come in time.

Fascinating were her abilities, he thought. To be able to shape anything she imagined through sheer force of will, it was remarkable. Izvilvin wasn't sure if it was literally magic, but his view was that anything unwordly was. Typically, he was wary of magic and those who wielded it, but Ira was clearly not a woman who used hers for evil. She was far too considerate for such things.

Perhaps he'd been hasty in his judgements.

He ate as much as he could while still leaving some for Ira, and went to the river to wash off and relieve himself, not precisely in that order. When he returned, he lay on the gress next to the stream, not far from the boulder. He gazed up into the stars, picking at his teeth.

Not long from now, they'd be back on the road, and not long after that, they'd be in Astaka. They could move at a snail's pace and still make it there tomorrow, he hoped. Once they arrived, it was a simple day's work before going home.

A deep sigh escaped the Drow as he closed his eyes, drifting off to get an hour or two of sleep before waking up to take watch for the rest of the night.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira sighed blissfully as she spotted the tents of her home come into view. They rose from the sand like anomalies in an otherwise desolate area of Fallien that no one would ever suspect of housing a whole tribe of peoples. The normally tan and brown material they were made of were stained blue by the light of the moon, that even gave the sand a tint of blue. They shimmered back towards the stars, which sparkled through the black and blue sky with not a cloud to hinder them.

The rest of the trip to Astaka had been uneventful. No Arta, no problems and no setbacks. When the sun had begun to set on the sands Ira had not stopped the group for she knew it would only be another few hours of traveling before they reached her home and as such it would be pointless to rest. In truth it had been three and now as she saw familiar surroundings come into view, one weight was lifted from her as a sense of unease and uncertainty settled in. What Majra and Gereint would think of her bringing strangers back with her she knew not, she only hoped there would not be consequences and that perhaps they would just send the Priestesses on their way without even a second thought to them.

Running her hand along the neck of the horse Ira turned to those she was leading, extending her hand towards her tribe, “Astaka…” Relief and happiness were evident in her voice. It always felt that way coming home, no matter what. She could sleep in her own bed, talk to her friends, walk upon familiar ground and visit Uriahd’s grave.

Throughout the village were fires that chased away the thick veil of darkness covering Fallien. Small ones were placed outside of peoples homes with small gatherings of friends and family around them and at the centre of Astaka was a larger blaze. Even from here Ira could see the people gathered around it, the tables set up and the sounds of talking and laughter floating through the silence. Noise carried in the desert at night.

Knowing that she would find either Majra or Gereint at the feast taking place at the centre of the tribe, Ira instinctively went there. Of course to get there she had to go through part of the village. Eyes watched her every step, or more matter of fact, the steps of the three siahd’s she had brought with her. People were turning to one another and whispering in each other’s ears, Ira couldn’t hear what they were saying but she didn’t need to.

At the centre of the tribe, Ira stopped the horse and dropped the reigns. All around her were tables filled with a myriad of different foods and drinks. Calerians were gathered around the fire, dancing to the heavy beat of drums that bore into the beat of a person’s own heart. Others were gathered in small groups talking, laughing and just doing what her tribe did best when they decided to have a feast of any kind.

Gereint was by the fire, his blind eyes trained on her as she crossed the distance.

“Ira.”

She unwrapped the material that shielded her face from the desert sun and sands then inclined her head respectfully to him, not caring that the withered old shaman could not see her gesture.

“Gereint, I have brought with me three people from Irrakam.”

“Yes, I know.”

Ira raised her brow and stared silently at the old shaman. His hands were clasped in front of him, resting against his stomach. His body covered in robes of a deep red colour with beautifully embroidered borders.

“You sent me back to Irrakam because you knew this would happen, didn’t you?”

Ira narrowed her gaze at the man she trusted and loved as if he were her father. In returned to her question, he nodded his head to her.

“It’s great to know you trust me enough to tell me these things.”

“Would you have gone had I told you?” He shot back at her, his voice always calm in its reason.

“No.”

“Exactly.”

Ira sighed and folded her arms under her chest.

“I will take the Priestesses to see Majra, make the Drow comfortable.”

Ira didn’t say anything else to Gereint; she only led him towards the edge of their celebration, where she’d left Izvilvin and the two women waiting on her. The old shaman ushered for the Priestesses to follow him and got someone to take care of Ira’s horse for her, which was good because right now all she wanted to do was sit down. Motioning for Izvilvin to follow her, Ira sat at an empty table and poured a light blue liquid into two glasses for Izvilvin and herself. Hers, she quickly drank back, the strong alcohol burning her throat on the way down. The second glass she’d worked more slowly at, no need to get drunk.

[Izvilvin]

The day's travel had been significantly longer than Izvilvin had hoped, but they arrived early enough that he did not fear another night in the desert. He shared Ira's relief, as obvious on her face as the purple was to her hair, though naturally hers was a feeling he could not possibly share. This was her native home, a place where she was comfortable and supported. Izvilvin's home did not instill the same feelings in him, but he could understand them just as well.

He hung back and allowed Ira some room in front of him, rather than combard her with impossible to understand questions. Merely observing, the Drow was surprised to see the looks he recieved. Curiousity, open wariness, even a few looks of seething anger, he noted. Izvilvin hadn't considered it earlier, and only now did he realize this was land that strangers rarely, if ever, stepped upon.

It was with this in mind that he kept his distance while Ira set forth, communicating briefly with some man Izvilvin didn't care to turn his eyes toward. His shoulder was sore and throbbing, and had numbed his arm to the point where he wasn't sure if he could fully use it or not. The Drow's graceful step and calm demeanor, however, were not hindered by the pain. He looked as nimble as ever.

Thankful was he when Ira led him to a nondescript table among the tents, and laid before him a goblet filled with blue wine of some sort. He dismissed the idea that it could be poisoned, too weary to concern himself, and took a deep swallow of the strong liquor.

Ira held her drink close like a security blanket. What could he say that she'd understand?

He watched her for a while, then looked back down after some time.

[Iriah Caitrak]

She knew that Izvilvin was watching her, but he wasn’t saying anything and she didn’t feel like talking much. She was tired from the trip, she hadn’t gotten much sleep last night and walking all day without many breaks had worn her out.

“Ira!”

Hearing her name pierce through the cacophony of sounds on a high pitched scream, Ira only had one guess as to who was calling out to her and as she lifted her head and looked around her assumption proved correct. An extremely bubbly, happy and perhaps somewhat drunk Messia came barrelling down towards her, bright red hair flowing behind her as she practically jumped on Ira, shoving her rather uncomfortably against the wooden table.

“Ira! I’m so glad you’re back!”

Messia hugged her as if she hadn’t seen her in a year when really it had only been a few weeks.

“Ow, ow! Careful!”

Messia pulled back form her hug to look her over, “What’s wrong?”

“Broke my wrist on the way here…”

As if the over intoxicated female didn’t quite understand her, she reached down and grabbed Ira’s bandaged wrist.

“Ow! Messia, for the love of Suravani!”

“Eep, sorry…” She dropped Ira’s wrist and smiled rather sheepishly at her friend. Ira only shook her head and smiled back, then gave her as tight as hug as she could without hurting herself again.

“Hey, why don’t you get Lyra to take care of it for you—oh hey, who’s that!”

Messia turned from Ira to Izvilvin, who was quietly watching the altercation.

“Oh, that’s—”

“Hey, he’s hurt too!” Messia pointed to his bandaged shoulder, bouncing in spot as if she couldn’t sit still, “I’m going to get Lyra!”

“No, wait, Mess!”

Ira laughed as her friend ran off into the crowd, almost tripping over her own feet. What crazy people she knew. At least Messia was laughing and having fun. It had been a long time since she’d seen a genuine smile grace her face and a true laugh escape her lips. It was good to see her friend happy again.

“I have a feeling I’m going to need more alcohol…”

Ira shook her head and quickly downed her drink. Reaching across the table, she pulled over a platter of cheese, fruit and what looked like roasted Desert Drake. Drinking on an empty stomach was never a good idea and she was a little hungry, so she began to pick at everything the platter had to offer.

Only two or three minutes after Messia had run off, she came careening back towards her and Izvilvin with Lyra in tow. Lyra was not a Calerian Warrior like Messia and Ira, she was however a healer and she did wonders for the injured warriors. So unlike Calerian Warriors, Lyra looked exactly like a Fallien native, dark skin, dark hair and dark eyes. The only difference being how tall she was, easily matching Ira’s height.

“Hey, Lyra.”

“Ira, good to see you again, Messia came and got me. She said you and your fri—” Her sentence was cut off as she caught sight of Izvilvin. For a few seconds she just stood there and stared at him, probably with the same expression on her face that Ira had the first she’d seen him. Reaching out with her hand, Lyra poked Izvilvin’s arm as if to see if he were real.

“You know, Lyra, that’s kind of rude.”

“Oh! Huh? Yeah…what is he?”

“A Drow.”

“Really!? I’ve never seen a Drow before…”

Ira laughed, as Lyra would just not stop staring at poor Izvilvin.

“Izvilvin, my friends Lyra and Messia.” She pointed to each one of them and make sure he knew which was which.

Lyra finally tore her eyes away from Izvilvin and focused her attention on Ira’s wrist. Carefully picking it up, she cradled it between her hands and began a low chant. Soon a gentle glow began to form around her wrist, which quickly began to feel warm. The pain stopped and Lyra stopped chanting then looked up and examined Ira’s neck.

“That’ll heal on it’s own…” Ira said as she removed the bandages from around her wrist.

Lyra turned from Ira to Izvilvin, “Okay, you’re next.”

Ira knew that Izvilvin had already rejected the help of the Priestess she had asked to heal him, whether or not he would let Lyra she had no idea. Lyra was not a person to take no for an answer though and she’d seen the feisty little woman take down a few Calerian Warriors refusing her help.

[Izvilvin]

Enduring Messia's presence was not unlike enduring the boiling Fallien sun. However, though Izvilvin could take himself out of his mind to ignore the heat, Messia's chatter seemed to force him to remain in the present. He hugged his drink and sipped it slowly, smiling weakly everytime a comment was made in reference to him.

He thought he'd get a respite when she ran off, but soon she came back with another, less bubbly, woman. Izvilvin watched passively as she used some form of magic on Ira's wrist, the bright glow enveloping and healing the bone in a way the Drow had never seen. Not once did his passive gaze show interest, however.

The new one, Lyra, came to him in the same manner she did Ira, with arms outstretched toward his wound. He shook his head defiantly and took her hands, directing them gently aside. Izvilvin was hardly comfortable with any kind of magic, even if he knew the intention behind a spell was positive. Since Laix and Palmer were slain by it, the Drow was unwilling to let any of it touch him.

Not to be deterred, Lyra approached again, more forcefully this time. Izvilvin responded in kind, slapping her hands away this time rather than being gentle about. A look of shock came over her face as she saw his eyes, flashing with malice and holding the promise of death if she tried again.

Realizing what he was doing, and the eyes that lingered on him from all about, Izvilvin swallowed the rest of his drink in a single attempt and left. He walked briskly past the inhabitants of Astaka, to the outskirts of the city, where he intended to spend the rest of his night until Ira was ready to leave.

[Iriah Caitrak]

In that moment, as Izvilvin refused Lyra’s help, forcefully pushed her away and then stormed off, Ira learned something of him that she should have guessed before. He didn’t like magic. She didn’t know why and she didn’t know what made him hate it so much but the look he had given when she’d replicated his weapon, his refusal of the Priestesses healing abilities and Lyra’s lead her to conclusion that he would never allow magic near him.

“Well that was rude…” Lyra huffed as she placed her hands on her hips, “Should I go after him?”

As she turned to look at Ira, she shook her head. That would only cause more problems. He was not comfortable with magic and why should she torture him by forcing magic upon him?

“I thought he was going to hit you there for a moment, Le-Le.”

Lyra rolled her eyes and sighed, “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Le-Le, Messia?”

“Izvilvin would never have hit Lyra…” Ira said to her friends.

The truth of the matter was she wasn’t sure whether or not he actually would have hurt Lyra if she’d been more forceful with him. She’d never seen a look like that enter his eyes before, but then again, she barely knew him. He was still a stranger and the language barrier kept her from understanding a lot about him. Was her initial assumption about him wrong?

Sighing, Ira ran her fingers through her hair, purple hair. Had it been a mistake bringing him here? Had it been a mistake bringing any of them here? Gereint had known all along, but…

But she didn’t know.

Standing up, Ira turned to say something to her friends, closed her mouth, tried again and then gave up. She had no idea what to say and she had no idea what to do. She probably shouldn’t let Izvilvin out of her sight though; there were those in this village that would not look kindly upon him at all.

It didn’t take her long to find him, especially since his exit turned a lot of heads. She could say without a doubt that almost every single person in Astaka had never seen a black skinned, white hair man before. Ira found him at the outskirts of the village, not too far from her home actually. She knew Astaka and the surrounding area like the back of her hand and not too far from where he was standing was an outcropping of rock rising from the sand. She sat there most nights when she couldn’t sleep and stared at the sky. Further on from there was their ritual burial site, bodies were never buried there though, bodies were burned but names were remembered, carved into stone.

Ira came up behind him, her boots shuffling in the sand and hopefully alerting him to her presence. The last thing she wanted to do was surprise him, especially after she’d seen that look on his face. She came to a stop beside him, but couldn’t find the words to say, words that he would understand.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin heard Ira coming from afar, but he didn't turn to look at her. He looked to the sky, to the stars, and sighed aloud as the stinging pain in his shoulder dominated his feelings. He could never explain to her why he was uncomfortable around magic, wizards and the like. He didn't even want to try.

When she came to his side he didn't even look at her. She was in his peripheral vision, standing there calmly as if expecting some explanation or a few soothing words. The Drow had none, though he began to hum to himself a familiar song, the same they had enjoyed together back where Laix and Palmer's memorials were.

Magic had killed them both, and nearly killed Izvilvin.

It was impossible to explain, so he merely hummed.

After a few moments he looked to her and made a sleeping gesture. He wanted to rest while she handled the diplomacy--that was obvious enough for anyone to understand.

[Iriah Caitrak]

So it seemed that no talking would be done between the two of them at all. Silence reigned as they both had their eyes on the vast sky above them, neither finding the words to say or perhaps Izvilvin just didn’t want to talk to her. She didn’t know, she couldn’t read him mind and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

When he made the motion for going to sleep, Ira nodded her head and led him back towards the village. She didn’t head back into the heart of the village though, instead she turned off to the right and walked for about a minute or two until she led him inside one large, permanent tent made of wood and thick animal hide. It was her home; she’d built it with her own two hands and the help of some of her friends. The inside was furnished comfortably, once you pushed through the curtain covering the doorway you came into a lounge type area. There was an oddly carved table in the middle of the room and both large and small pillows scattered around it varying in colours from blood red to purple, to orange and green. There was also a pit where a fire could burn for the colder desert nights.

Couches were something she’d seen during her travels but were a luxury they couldn’t afford or make out here in Astaka, so it was pillows.

All of the doorways held curtains separating them from the previous rooms, allowing for some semblance of privacy, but then again she lived here alone, so privacy was not very big on her top list of things. The kitchen was straight ahead from the living room, a small place since most cooking was done outside unless weather didn’t permit it. Leading Izvilvin to the left and through a thick curtain of dark purple material, Ira led him into an area of her home that took up the majority of it; her three bedrooms. Well, they weren’t all for her, only one was, the other two were for friends and guests though most of her guests were people from Oasis tribes, not from as far away as Izvilvin.

She stopped at the first one, pointing at the doorway and then herself, “This one’s mine, you can wake me if you need anything.”

Then she moved on to the next one over and ushered him inside. It was by no means as spacious as the room she’d been given in The Keep, but it was home. The room was decorated in greens and gold and reminded her of Concordia forest. There was a washbasin he could fill with water should he need to refresh himself. Clothes had no dresser, wood was hard to come by in the desert, clothes were usually hung up or thrown all over the floor like she had a habit of doing. On the beds she’d gone a little all out and they’d cost her quite a bit too seeing as how the frames were all made of wood. They were all canopy beds with thick material coming down off the sides. This was for two reasons, one because the sun rose early and it helped keep out the rays and the heat and two it kept out the bugs.

Not really knowing what to say to him, Ira nervously rubbed her hands and fingers together, “Ahh, well…goodnight.”

Turning, she left his room but didn’t go into hers. She needed to head over to Majra’s and join in on the discussions taking place about her tribe, after all, she was supposed to be some kind of ambassador.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin followed Ira closely, the ache in his shoulder growing more and more troublesome. He didn't bother to turn his attention the many stares toward, him, choosing to look forward proudly. The Drow had nothing to prove to these people, nor anything to hide. He was just a person, like them, but very little like the dark elves of Alerar. Not that he expected the common man to know that.

He gave Ira a gentle nod when she showed him to his room, even going so far as to squeeze her hand before she left. The room was quaint, warm and comfortable, especially considering it was not his own. When his friend was out, he undressed down to his naked self, and walked to the available basin, filled it up and washed up. His wound was bad, already infecting and surrounded by an unhealthy puss. He winced as he attempted to clean it, but the flesh around it was as solid as rock.

Trying not to think of it, Izvilvin slipped into the bed, breathing deep the clean air. He held a single sai that he ducked under the matress, well within reach should something go amiss.

The Drow fell into the most comfortable rest he could, considering the pain he was in. He would open his eyes to morning soon, and then he could head home, Ira and the priestesses by his side. Izvilvin had a vacation due, and knew it.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira rolled over in bed and sighed. She was awake and she couldn’t go back to sleep no matter how long she stayed in bed. She knew it and her mind was screaming for her to get up but she knew that she could use another hour or two and living in the desert for so long she knew the sun was just beginning to rise over the sands. It wasn’t truly morning yet.

Giving up, Ira threw back the thin silk sheeting and tossed aside the canopy of material keeping the light out of her room. Just as she had guessed it was still rather dark in her house. Walking to the front door, she pushed aside the heavy leather and looked into the greying morning light. There wasn’t even anyone about in the village yet, most wouldn’t actually wake up until the sun touched their eyes and forced them open. Still, she was not going to get anymore sleep.

Stretching and hearing all the little pops her bones made first thing in the morning, Ira made her way to her little kitchen. She hadn’t been home in over two weeks so there wasn’t anything prepared and what was left in here had really gone bad while she’d been away. So she had to make everything that her and Izvilvin were going to eat for breakfast, good thing she knew how to cook.

Going through large pots and jars for various ingredients, Ira eventually had a large dough working on the stone counter and a fire going in a small oven. Going through some other jars, she found dried meat and fruit that was still good and would have to suffice for breakfast. She needed supplies in her house but if she was going back to Irrakam for an undisclosed amount of time there was no point in her buying anything.

Humming a rather upbeat tune and shaky her barely clothed booty at the same time—Ira was not the most modest person around and the thought of overdressing in her own home never occurred to her, even with a guest, so she was currently wearing a thin strapped, tight shirt and a pair of underwear—Ira rolled the dough into two nice sized round shapes and placed them in the oven. Hopefully she’d get all of this made up before Izvilvin even got out of bed.

The talks last night had been promising. It appeared Jya only wanted information on the dead and what happened to souls after they died, as well as some information on the various realms passed the physical realm. In exchange, the Astaka tribe would be allowed to continue to live here unhindered and under their own rules, Ira herself had stressed that one. They’d lived here for centuries without the rule of The Jya and they planned on continuing to do so, with or without her permission. So the Priestesses had grudgingly agreed that they could continue under their own laws.

They had a little more to discuss today and then they would set out to Irrakam, so Ira guessed that the Priestesses, Majra and Gereint were already continuing the discussions as she was preparing breakfast.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin awoke in a cold sweat, his heart racing as his body struggled to overcome the poison of the Arta.

At first, the Drow could not fathom what was wrong. If he'd had a nightmare, he couldn't remember it. Why else would he feel so excitable? He looked down at himself, at the wound where the desert Arta had struck him. It had infected, and around it his veins were so blue he could clearly see the color against his black skin. He touched the veins, and they were like stone.

Then he became aware of the swirling, creeping feeling in his limbs, as if bugs as tiny as grains of sand were running about inside of him, biting at all they could. He stifled a scream of pain and forced himself up, finding that he could not move the arm connected to his wounded shoulder.

He did his best to pull on his pants before leaving the room, stumbling awkwardly into the main room of Ira's house and beyond, paying her no mind as he stepped into the city. He could feel his heartbeats, irregular and weak, as they struggled to fight off whatever venom the Arta's weapon had put into him.

People were looking at him as if he were insane, the looks on their faces more skewed than when they'd first seen him. Izvilvin looked back at Ira's home, wishing he had a chance to apologize to her for his irregular moods. Now he understood his lack of patience since the fight with the Arta.

A regular man would have succumbed earlier, certainly, but not even he could fight off the poison forever. With a final cough, Izvilvin fell face-first onto the ground, unmoving.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Lost in her own thoughts and the tune to which she was humming, Ira did not notice the stumbling Drow as he exited her home and into Astaka. Instead, oblivious, she continued to cook breakfast for the two of them, carefully removing the loaves of bread from the oven and placing them on the counter.

“Ira!”

Arching a brow, Ira left her kitchen and walked into the small living space just as two women—one of whom being Messia—carried in the unconscious body of Izvilvin into her home. Shock overrode her senses to the point of leaving her standing there gaping at the form of the Drow. His breathing was laboured, droplets of sweat were forming on his brow and he seemed to be in quite a bit of pain even while unconscious.

“Hu…w-what happened?”

“Where do you want us to put him?” The other woman asked, ignoring Ira’s question.

Ira shook her head and quickly ushered Messia and the other woman to the room she’d let Izvilvin use last night. They carefully placed him on the bed and hovered around as Ira sat beside him and placed a hand on his brow, which felt hotter than the desert sands.

“What happened?” Her voice growing more forceful.

The first thought that came to her mind was someone from the village had attacked him. He was after all a stranger in a place that does not always welcome strangers and many of the people here would do anything to keep Astaka a secret.

“I-I don’t know,” Messia said, wringing her hands in agitation and worry, “I found him unconscious a little ways from your home. Apparently, he stumbled out of it and then passed out.”

Her eyes were drawn from Izvilvin’s face to the wound on his shoulder. He’d had no time to pull his shirt on before he left and the wound easily stood out against his black skin, especially the blue veins. She touched the skin and quickly drew her hand away at the feel of how hard it was.

“Messia, go get Lyra…”

She nodded and quickly ran from the room, only to return two second later and grab the other woman’s arm and drag her out as well. Getting up from the bed, Ira made her way into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl of cold water and a cloth then returned to the guest room. There she sat on the edge of the bed once again and covered Izvilvin’s brow with the cool clothe.

Moments later, Messia returned with Lyra who swore in ways Ira had never heard her before once she looked at Izvilvin. She moved over to him and quickly began examining the wound on his shoulder and the area around it.

“What’s wrong?”

Lyra sighed, “He’s been poisoned by an Arta… stubborn bastard should have let me heal the wound yesterday.”

“Would that have stopped this from happening?” Ira asked.

“Maybe, maybe not…but now it’s going to be harder to draw it out of his body, it’s going to take longer and he’s probably going to suffer for it. I have to go get some herbs.”

Ira nodded her head and gave Messia a worried look as Lyra hurried off. She returned in a few minutes carrying stone bowls with jars of herbs, oils and other ingredients Ira did not want to think about. Setting them down on a table by the bed, Lyra lean over Izvilvin, placed her hand on his brow and whispered a few words. Immediately the expression on his face softened and his entire body seemed to relax.

“I put him in a deep state of sleep, it will help with the healing process and he’ll feel less pain this way.”

Half an hour later, Ira was given two jars of mixed, mushy herbs, one jar of some kind of dried herb and another with a rather fresh looking one in it. Lyra gave her strict instructions to continually apply the mixed herbs to the wound every time his skin completely absorbed the last application, the dried herb she was to make him drink as tea and the fresh one she had to make him eat. By morning he should be able to regain consciousness but will still be rather weak and within another day he would be fit for travelling as long as everything went well.

Sometime that night, Ira fell asleep as she was watching over her friend…

[Izvilvin]

The darkness seemed tangible, seemed to swirl within itself as Izvilvin's mind manipulated it. Try as he might, he could not order his mind to open his eyes. The sensors there were broken, somehow, as if he was losing control over his own movements.

From the black, a demon seemed to appear, though it was no shade lighter than the wall of nothingness the Drow 'looked' at. It swirled up and clawed toward him, making his physical body shudder. Then, mercifully, his body and mind relaxed, and he fell into slumber.

The poison from the Arta's scimitar receded from his body a bit, and the infection came to a halt. It would take a few hours for him to actually start healing, but for now, the change had stopped. Rather than becoming one of the sand-swimming zombies, he'd been saved. Now it was just a matter of whether his body could fight off the lingering venom.

When Izvilvin finally opened his eyes, it was night. It took him a moment to get his bearings, to remember he was in Astaka and that he'd stumbled out of bed some time ago. He felt weak, unable to lift his limbs or even keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time, but he felt better.

Ira was next to him in a chair, slumped over the side of the bed and snoring softly. Izvilvin couldn't muster the energy to smile, but moved his hand over to touch hers. Exhausted, he closed his eyes once more and drifted off to sleep.

((In my next post, I'll have Izvilvin force himself from bed and we can carry on with the quest, bwaha.))

[Iriah Caitrak]

Morning broke; the sun appeared over the endless grains of sand and lit the world awash in it’s bright light. Instinct woke Ira from her slumber, telling her it was morning. When she awoke, confusion took over for a minute as she realized she was half in a chair, half slumped on the bed that Izvilvin was peacefully sleeping in. It didn’t last long though, her mind began to push back the haze of her dreams, reminding her that Izvilvin had been poisoned.

She pushed up from the bed and realized that Izvilvin’s hand was covering hers. Smiling, she gently squeezed it before reaching up and placing her hand on his brow. His fever was almost completely gone. In fact, his skin felt almost normal now, almost. Reaching to the side table, Ira grabbed the mushy paste of herbs and carefully applied some to the wound. The skin was not as hard as stone anymore and the blue of his veins was nearly gone, by the end of today she guessed he would be back to his usual self.

Standing up, the Calerian stretched out her body, muscles protesting and sore from the way she’d slept all night and bones making small popping noises as they shifted within her. Grabbing the vial of dried herbs off the table, Ira made her way into the kitchen where she started a fire and placed a pot of water over it. Then she munched on a few pieces of bread, not realizing the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything all of yesterday until she saw the food sitting there.

She was starved.

Not sure when Izvilvin was going to wake up, Ira cut up some of the bread and put it on a place with dried meat and fruits then took it back with her into Izvilvin’s room along with a cup of tea made from the herbs Lyra had given her.

Brushing some of his hair away from his face, Ira sat down on the edge of the bed, “Izvilvin… can you hear me?”

She felt silly asking the question; he was probably so deeply asleep he couldn’t hear her even if he wanted to. But he must have woken up some time last night because she hadn’t fallen asleep holding his hand. Plus, the last time she’d tried making him drink that herbal tea while he was still sleeping hadn’t turned out too well.

[Izvilvin]

As was usual, Izvilvin's mind was aware of his surroundings even as he slept, so when Ira called his name, his eyes fluttered and opened. His body felt weak, but not diseased and filthy as it had yesterday. Ira held between them a plate of food, and seeing it and her expectant gaze, he managed a weak smile.

He sat up despite his exhaustion, forcing his body to conform to what his mind wanted rather than what it should have been capable of, and he snatched a piece of fruit from the plate and popped it in his mouth. Even though his arm felt heavy, his fingers were as dextrous as they ever were. He was thankful for that.

He turned about in the bed and set his feet to dangle over the edge, looking to stand up and force himself back into motion, but his head swirled and he needed to squeeze his eyes closed and will the pain away. Still he managed to stand and pull on his pants, which sat folded neatly by the bed.

Pointing weakly to Ira, he motioned outdoors. They needed to get going, and he knew it. They'd already wasted enough time due to the Drow, and without his morning patrol things may not go well back at the Keep.

After getting dressed, a tiresome effort if ever there was one, Izvilvin took the plate of food in his hand and smiled, again, at Ira as he ate another piece of fruit.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Relief washed over Ira as she saw Izvilvin’s eyes flutter open. Her attempt may have been silly but the result of it lifted something from her shoulders she had not known was there. A deep worry and doubt that he may not pull through this, that he would turn into an Arta, the consequences of which were nothing she wanted to contemplate.

He was still weak though, it took him a long while to dress and though he tried to put on a brave face and convince her that he was all right, it was not working. A blind person could see that he was still not as healthy as he should be and as he motioned for them to get moving she shook her head and instead handed him the glass of steaming tea. He needed to drink it; it would help restore his strength faster. The infection was gone but his body was still recovering from the internal battle it has just waged.

“Not yet, Izvilvin…”

Smiling meekly, Ira placed a hand on his shoulder and stood up, leaving the room. She made her way into the small living quarters in the main area of her home and collapsed onto a large pile of overstuffed pillows.

“Ira?”

“Come on in…”

Glancing towards the entrance of her home, Ira watched as Gereint entered the tent. The wizened old man, withered by time and the elements effortlessly walked through her home and stood before her. She quickly scrambled to her feet and ushered him to a comfortable seat, his old body protesting slightly at sitting on the ground but he eventually made himself comfortable.

“I understand that the Drow who came with you has been ill…”

Ira nodded her head, staring into the blind eyes of the shaman, blind eyes that easily found her location and locked on it. Sometimes, she really wondered exactly what the old man could see for surely it was much different than the world she looked at.

“He was poisoned by an Arta, Lyra helped draw the poison out of his body. Now he is just recovering his strength, though he already wishes to begin the journey back to Irrakam.”

A smiled cracked across Gereint’s face, creating more wrinkles, “He does not wish to leave The Keep for very long, fearing that something may happen in his absence and that he may lose the only place he calls home at the moment.”

Ira nodded her head, “He is not strong enough to travel yet.”

Producing a vial from within the many layers of blue robes that he wore, Gereint handed it to Ira, “he will recover his strength faster than Lyra’s medicine can afford him if he chooses to drink it. While you were caring for the Drow, the Priestesses, Majra and myself came to an understanding. We are allowed to continue to live within Astaka under our own rules and under the continued friendship of The Jya. Supplies of any kind may be requests by us whenever we have need of them, in return Jya wishes for the knowledge we possess on the dead and the realms beyond this one.”

“That is more knowledge than I can tell her…”

“I know, I am going to journey with you to Irrakam and personally meet with The Jya and finalize this…decision. Majra will stay here and watch over the village and I will have you and the Drow as my personal bodyguards.”

The old shaman seemed very pleased with this arrangement. Ira felt uncomfortable. She didn’t like the idea of Gereint travelling across the deserts with just herself and Izvilvin to protect him, she’d nearly died on the way here, how could he expect her to protect him when she couldn’t even protect herself?

Slowly getting to his feet, protesting bones cracking in movements, muscles and tendons straining, “Let me know when you are ready to leave.”

“Hmm, yes…”

Knowing she could not talk him out of it, Ira watched as Gereint left her home, leaving her sitting there holding a vial some kind of milky liquid swirling inside.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin took the tea Ira had and sipped it slow, sitting on the corner of the bed. As he felt the hot liquid revitalize his body, he realized just how cold he'd been. He sipped it fast, finishing it all as he listened to Ira and someone else speak in the next room. The Drow heard a feeble voice that somehow held in it a lot of strength, and he was mildly curious as to whose it could be.

Eventually the voices ceased, and Ira came back into the room where Izvilvin was still sitting. She handed him a vial filled with a creamy fluid, looking something like buttermilk. He cringed as he looked like it, beyond wary of magical formulas and potions. In Alerar, he'd been trained to taste certain poisons by drinking them and identifying them, which meant he'd endure whatever the effects of the poison was until he could speak it's name. Magical healers would return him to health afterward, but the training never seemed to stop.

He looked into Ira's eyes as he took the vial into his fingers. Magic had saved him, he knew, though he did not feel comfortable relying on anything but his own body. The Drow trusted her, her judgment and her words, though he couldn't understand them. A small vial much like this one saved Suravani's Oasis from utter destruction.

Twisting off the cap, Izvilvin forced himself to down the liquid as quickly as he could. The substance was sticky sweet, like honey, and nearly made him gag, but he toughed it out and consumed the vial's contents.

Immediately he felt stronger, though his wound still ached and he was weaker than he wanted to be. In a few moments he was fully dressed, with his weapons strapped on. The puncture in his body still showed through the hole in his shirt.

He went to Ira then, nodding, ready to go. He seemed stronger, and every bit as determined as he'd been a moment ago. Before they left, he gave her a strong one-armed hug, and a kiss on the top of her head.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira gave Izvilvin a tight-lipped smile as she backed out of his hug, uncomfortably tucked some of her hair behind her ear and then turned away from him. Why she suddenly felt a little embarrassed and uncomfortable around him she had no idea, but the fact was she did. Perhaps she just wasn’t too sure where her emotions on the Drow lay, she had very shyly kissed him before and it had done nothing but push him away from her, yet now she found him being overly affectionate towards her. Perhaps it had something to do with overcoming the Arta’s poison, or perhaps it was something else entirely.

Sighing, she pushed it to the back of her mind; a confusing melody of emotions was the last thing the Calerian wanted to think about.

Going to her room, Ira quickly began to throw some items into a rucksack she had lying on the floor. Extra clothes, hygienic products and of course a few herbs she may need should anything happen on the way there or the way back. The fact that Gereint would be travelling with the two of them put her on edge. She didn’t like having the responsibility of protecting someone so important thrust into her hands and she had no idea why Gereint was doing that to her. She already had those Priestesses to worry about, she didn’t need to worry about her old and weathered shaman at the same time.

What if they were attacked by Arta again, or a giant sand scorpion? And what if something happened to him, what would the tribe do without him?

Taking a deep breath, Ira calmed her racing mind. If she continued to think like that the journey to Irrakam was going to be horrendous and she’d probably worry herself sick long before they ever got there. She needed to trust that Gereint knew exactly what he was doing.

Slipping her arms through the straps of her rucksack, Ira left her room and found Izvilvin in the living room of her home.

“Come on, Izvilvin, let’s go.”

She made a motion with her hands for him to leave her house, one that for some reason she couldn’t help but interpret as rude. It felt like she was kicking him out even though she was leaving with him. Following behind him, Ira led the Drow towards Gereint’s large tent in the centre area of the tribe. The eyes of a few Calerians about the tribe watched them as they went, though Ira knew they weren’t actually watching her but more watching Izvilvin. He had shown some strange emotions and tendencies since coming to Astaka and she knew that once he was gone there would be a few breaths of relief.

Before Ira could even enter Gereint’s tent he slipped through the weathered leather that covered the entrance and smiled, “I knew you were on your way so I had everything prepared for us. The Priestesses are already by the horses.”

Ira shook her head, “Typical Gereint…”

His sightless eyes focused on her as a wrinkled hand emerged from the mass of robes he wore around his body and patted her on the shoulder. Walking ahead of her, Gereint led them towards the Southern outskirts of the tribe where just as he said five horses waited for them and of course the two Priestesses as well. Nodding her head to them, the Priestesses mounted and Ira helped Gereint onto his horse before climbing atop her own and heading off towards the desert. This was one adventure that was thankfully nearly over…

[Izvilvin]

Ira's reaction was confusing, considering her willingness to give him the same treatment just a few days earlier. Izvilvin looked at her carefully as she pulled away, but he looked away quickly. He understood.

He readied his things and was waiting by the door when Ira returned. Her movements, her expression told him that she was either upset or confused, so he merely turned and exited when she bade him do so. He wasn't sure how to feel about it, but imagined this was what she'd felt when he was treating her in almost the same way.

Izvilvin tried to meet each stare with a gentle nod or smile, but found it impossible to keep up. After a few minutes he resigned himself to look at the ground or at Ira's back, or simply straight ahead. It felt like hours until they were finally with their horses.

The Drow looked to the old man, confused, then looked to Ira. Without a word he shrugged and mounted his horse, figuring she knew what she was doing.

The ride home would be long and hard, and Izvilvin had a bit to think about during it. He wasn't sure what he wanted. Was it really time to go back to his homeland? Perhaps Fallien could do without him, yes, but could he do without Fallien?

[Iriah Caitrak]

Two days later Ira led the small group of travellers through the gates of Irrakam and into the vast city. There had been no complications on the journey here, no Arta, no giant sand scorpions and no mishaps. Everything had gone smoothly to the content of her nerves. She was still ill at ease to be the protector of Gereint ad would have much preferred the Shaman stay within the safe confines of Astaka. How he had convinced Majra to even let him go she did not know, the only thing she did know was that she wouldn’t get a good night’s sleep until he was safely returned to Astaka. The area around the gates of the city was bustling with activity. Caravans of merchants were making their way to and fro, clogging up the gates as the guards attempted to check the papers of those coming in as quickly as possible. Ira had done this many times and as she grew closer to the gates she produced her papers though she did notice once the guards took one look at the Priestesses they were not needed and all of them were quickly ushered inside.

Spurring her horse forward, the Calerian began to head towards The Keep, wary of the many citizens below her as they carried on their daily basis. The amount of people who lived within the city always stunned her no matter how many times she visited it. Astaka had a small population but Irrakam; it was vast and teeming with people, not all of them citizens of the land either. There was the occasional pale skinned, foreigner hiding in the shade of some building as thoughts of how the locals could take the heat passed through their mind. They stuck out like sore thumbs in the city and not all of those in Fallien looked kindly upon strangers, especially since rumours of something known as The Cult of Mitra rising up have been spreading throughout Irrakam. Ira did not know much—or anything really—about The Cult, but from the looks on people’s faces there was some worry. Nothing for her to worry about however.

Giving lead of the group over to Izvilvin, Ira followed behind the Drow as he navigated the streets towards The Keep. The Priestesses seemed relived to be returning to their home of Irrakam and even Izvilvin himself seemed content to be within the walls of Irrakam once more. Ira was indifferent. Less than a week ago she’d been here to escape her problems in Astaka and now she was back for an entirely different reason she wished she could avoid.

Crossing the small bridge that connected the main of Irrakam to The Keep, a deep mote of water beneath the clopping of the horse’s hooves, Ira watched as Izvilvin spurred further ahead and quickly dismounted. A stable hand quickly arrived to take the horse from the Drow who glanced back at her but said nothing as he went on ahead into The Keep. Dismounting, Ira handed the reigns of her horse over to the stable hand as well before she helped Gereint down. The old Shaman was wise beyond his years and powerful in the ways of magic but never before had he seemed frailer to her than at this moment as she carefully helped him down from his horse.

“It has been many years since last these old feet of mine have stepped in Irrakam…”

Gereint sighed rather whimsically as if remembering a different time. His eyes, though sightless saw more than she could imagine as he scanned the horizon and the many homes before finally turning and looking at The Keep before him, it’s massive gates open and welcoming.

“I didn’t know you’d ever been here before.”

He smiled, “Yes, yes…many years ago, before you were even thought of let alone born. I wasn’t always this old.”

She nodded her head. She knew he had not always been this old but it was hard to picture him as anything than how he looked now.

“Let us go meet The Jya.”

Ira turned from Gereint to the two Priestesses who nodded their heads and began leading them through the halls of The Keep. This was not the first time Ira had been in these halls and she suspected it certainly would not be her last. The polished stone floor below her feet reflected her passing as the soft thumping of their footsteps echoed in the silent halls.

Before long, the Priestesses led the two of them to The Great Hall and Gereint turned to her then, “I shall have this meeting in private with The Jya.”
Ira nodded her head respectfully. As much as she wanted to be part of the discussion she knew there were things inside of Gereint’s head she was not ready to know or perhaps would even know.

Turning from the Shaman and Priestesses, Ira began heading back the way they’d come, though seen enough she found herself lost in the turns and twists of the hallways.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin was silent on the journey back to Irrakam.

As much as he liked to be the diligent scout, especially since adolescence caused his eyesight and hearing to pick up, Izvilvin was too introspective on the way back home to be a decent lookout. Fortunately, nothing befell them during their journey over the sands.

Irrakam greeted them with a cool breeze, and though he was concerned with bringing Gereint to the Jya, Izvilvin was confident that Ira could handle it. He only gave her a passing glance as he handed his horse's reigns over to a stablehand and made his way along the bottom floor of the Keep. He had somewhere to go, and his report could wait.

A few twists and turns brought him back outside, at the very rear of the great construct. Palmer's greatsword gleamed to him in greeting, and Izvilvin went to kneel next to it.

He could hear the river rushing, drowning out the few sobs that the warrior Drow could not hold back. He felt incredibly alone, without purpose. Izvilvin realized his time in Fallien was drawing to a close, once and for all.

This was the first time he'd come back from a major job without Laix and Palmer being there to greet him. The three would often enjoy a drink when one of them returned after being gone, but there would be none of that on this day. At least not for the Drow's dead friends.

He rose after a few moments and walked across the grass to the water, dipping his black fingers into the cool aqua. He splashed some on his face and sighed.

Izvilvin loved Fallien and Fallien loved him. A time was coming when he'd soon need to leave it. As much as he understood his need to move on in his journey, he'd reached a happy, comfortable point in his life that he wished could last.

Sometimes the hardest pain was necessary.

((Spoils: Gold?))

[Iriah Caitrak]

It didn’t take her long to get completely turned around in The Keep and before long she’d probably walked passed the same two guards over three times and every time she noticed the smile that grew slightly bigger on their faces. Eventually she gave in to the fact that she really needed some kind of direction and asked them where she could find Izvilvin. She wanted to talk to him, she didn’t really know why but she just wanted his company at the moment. It was better than being alone, company was always better than being alone and she had a feeling Gereint and Jya would be talking for many hours.

“The Drow?”

Ira nodded her head to the tall guard. He was relatively handsome and tall too, for a Fallien native. His hair was neatly pulled into a thong at the nap of his neck and his was covered in the regular uniform of all guards throughout The Keep, brown leather, short at the hip and of course arm and shin guards.

“I saw him heading off to the gardens. Just go left here, follow that down until the second passageway and take a right there. At the end you should come to the gardens.”

Smiling her thanks, Ira inclined her head and headed off down the corridors. A few minutes later she found herself standing just outside the doorway, looking out into the sunbathed garden that indeed Izvilvin was inside. The only reason she didn’t continue forward to talk to her friend was the fact that he was crying. A large sword was before the kneeling form of the Drow and though she couldn’t hear him she could tell by the motions his back was making and his bent form what he was doing. It made her pause, she did not want to disturb him but she was also curious as to what had brought about this sudden emotion in him. Surely it was nothing she had done.

When he rose, the Calerian took a few tentative steps towards him. She was unsure if she should approach or leave him be. Some pain needed to be dealt with in private, some pain others couldn’t see, she knew this for she’d been dealing with it a lot lately. But she also knew that at times it helped to just be in another person’s presence, no talking necessary, just the fact of having them close helped with things. There were still things she needed to deal with, Uri’s death being one of them and the corruption and changes within her body that had occurred during The Festival of the Dead being another. But now she couldn’t and she didn’t want to. Some problems needed time and some wounds would never heal.

Stepping closer to the Drow, Ira gave him a small encouraging smile as she sat down on one of the many large rocks adorning the garden, the gentle lull of water behind her and the rustle of leaves in the light breeze all around her.



((Spoils: Ira now has the title of Ambassador for the Calerian tribe to Irrakam. I’m sure that comes with some kind of pay raise.))

[Atzar]

Early on, I thought this quest deserved a JC. Everything was extremely fluid and well-balanced, and it was a lot of fun to read. After that, though, it seemed like the fire in you two died. Things got repetitive and kind of lost their power. It was still a joy to read this quest, but had you managed to continue the mind-blowing web you were weaving early on, it would have been one of the best quests I’d ever read. Now, to the points:

STORY

Continuity: 8 Well done. It was obvious what each character was doing in this quest and why, and the way you guys intertwined your storylines was skillfully done. The way that the quest ended suggested that the relationship between Ira and Izvilvin isn’t over, but I thought it could have been done a little better – it left me a little disappointed at the end.

Setting: 8 Also well done. I always knew where you were and what everything looked like, and there was a fair amount of detail. The wound that Izvilvin suffered was painted well. I got a graphic description of it, and the way Izvilvin reacted to it was well-written. Ira, I thought at times that you just ignored your broken wrist as it was convenient to you. You were doing tasks that usually take two hands – plucking the birds, cooking them, etc. – without even mentioning any additional difficulty that the wound might have created. Other than this, however, it was your description in particular that really set the scene of the quest.

Pacing: 5.5 This was probably the weakest part of the quest. To start with, it looked as if Ira should have posted first in the quest – her post never reached Izvilvin’s first one chronologically, and that really stuck out. Also, you guys built a lot of tension before the return journey to Irrakam. Ira’s fear of all of the mishaps that could happen was detailed at length, and I felt that something should have happened after all of that.

CHARACTER

Dialogue: 9 Wow. The way that Izvilvin and Ira interacted with each other was stunning. I really loved the way you two worked the language barrier. The only thing that’s keeping this from a 10 is described in “Action”, but in this particular case that negative was overshadowed by the positiveness (new word!) of everything else.

Action: 6.5 Early on, I thought this would also be getting a 9 or 10. Unfortunately, things began getting repetitive later in the quest. The mind games between Ira and Izvilvin were amazingly well-described and realistic at the beginning, but they ultimately never went anywhere. “I really like you… now I don’t trust you… I still like you… I don’t trust you again…” Their opinion of each other kept getting yanked back and forth all throughout the quest, and the fact that little was done to resolve it at the end was disappointing. Ira, it looked like you were getting to it at the end of your last post, but then the quest just… ended.

Persona: 8 See “Dialogue” and “Action” for greater detail. The language barrier and their early relationship were amazingly-done. The relationship, however, never went anywhere at the end, and I was really expecting some sort of ‘conclusion’ (for lack of a better word).

WRITING STYLE

Mechanics: 7 Lots of run-ons and grammatical errors in Ira’s writing but very few spelling errors, nearly-flawless grammar in Izvilvin’s writing but more spelling errors that I found. Overall, nothing really hurt my read of the quest.

Technique: 8 The style of both Izvilvin’s and Ira’s writing is fun and easy to read. I love the way you guys seemed to get into your characters.

Clarity: 9 There were only a few occasions when I had to go back and reread a sentence or paragraph. Overall, it was very clear and easy to read.



Wild Card: 8 Good job overall… I was intimidated by the 60-post length at first, but it was a quick read nonetheless. It was a pleasure to read this.


Final Score: 77

Ira Shinkara gets 3725 exp and 1000 GP from the Jya for a job well done.
Izvilvin gets 5370 exp and 1000 GP from the Jya for a job well done.

[Cyrus the virus]

EXP added!

We level up and are super awesome!