Reflections (Open)

[Deleted]

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There was an awkward moment where Jericho sat naked on the cold floor of the temple, leaning forward to breathe life into the hot fire he was beginning to tend. He sat there, blowing his breath into the tender to stoke the flames while his eyes shifted from the little colorful bird and back to the passed out, soaked mage. The bird shuffled to and fro on the other side of the fire, near their wet clothes and the thongs that the red head and set up, looking at him with strangely intelligent little black eyes. He mumbled something under his breath, raising from the floor and looking into the small supply pouch he had carried with him. First he fetched a linen wrap and wrapped it halfway around his waist, down between his legs, and then back up and the rest of the way around his waist in order to create a set of makeshift underwear. There was nothing that rained on a man’s parade, after all, than sweaty balls getting stuck to a cold marble floor.

The bird continued to watch while Jericho next started stripping Airo. He pulled her simple armor and clothing away while her dog slumped nearby growling. He wanted to kick the dog again, but knew that ultimately that would do him no good. Instead, he simply got her naked and then propped her head on the wadded green dress the red head had tossed him. It was hard enough to undress a woman, let alone put clothes back on her, especially when she wasn’t helping.

Little time had passed before Cyri returned to the room dragging the large chest, her naked form struggling with everything she had to accomplish the mission she had set for herself. She told him, shortly thereafter while preparing some sort of meal, that they’d be able to eat within half an hour. That was more than he had planned for the day. He had brought some nuts and dried berries, but, then again, he also hadn’t planned on being in Caldrea for very long, and had planned, to some extent, to live off the land, which was much harder to do now that there were three of them. Still, he welcomed the opportunity for a hot meal in the cold winds of Sunderbran, and only replied with a reassuring grunt as he sat back down. Then she cracked the chest. He would be sure to go through it before the morning.

Time passed slowly, and the girl finally identified herself. Cyri Stormborn. Quite an interesting name. She went on to explain why she was in Caldrea, and why she had decided then to follow him when he had taken Airo and ran, and then presented the letter the child had written him. He took it gently into his hands and unfolded it, reading over its content. Mom’s a slut. I might be your kid. That whole sort of thing. Jericho crumpled the letter as easily as he had received it and tossed it into the flames before him, watching as it slowly turned black and disappeared from existence.

”Welcome to my world kid.”[/b] Jericho said flatly, looking across and at Cyri in all her naked glory. His eyes fixated on her for a moment before his hand jerked up his xiphos in response to the alien voice interloping upon them. He started to his feet, waiting a moment before realizing it was the same fire throwing psycho that had happened upon them during their battle in the bowl. ”I’m just passing through on my way to the Village of Worms. I have…erm…business with Ardearian.”[/b]

His answer was matter of fact and a bit more relaxed that he would have expected, with a stranger happening upon well…a group of strangers. Still, this man had rescued them back there, and Jericho felt no need to be hostile with him. There was a good chance he owed him his life. What a sickening thought.

The mage was sitting up now, muttering something that Jericho couldn’t understand. What a bizarre situation this was. A group of strangers, most of which were naked or mostly naked, talking about Caldrea. Oh well. He had been in strangers situations before…

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[Deleted]

Malificer watched the group. His eyes met the little red heads, and he could tell, she knew what he was. A small smile formed on his lips, though his teeth were not shown, as he walked towards the group, and heard the other lady saying he was in her dreams. This caused him to stop, and look over at her for a moment. So far, the man was the only one to have reason to be here, but other then watching for signs of attack, as was custom for his 'interactions' with the mortal races, he wa also still feasting upon the nude women flesh before him.

When the red head started a greeting, he looked a bit puzzled. THIS was a new development, being greeted and offered a seat at a fire with a group of people. It was almost disorienting, however he bowed at the redhead, returning the gesture of humility. In the language she spoke, he replied.

"I humbly accept, the kindness of your offer, and the heat of your warmth. May your light shine a hundred years, and your line continue beyond my own."

With that, he moved to the fire, and sat, customarally on the pack she provided. A slightly sad face crossed over him, as she finally started to get dressed. But no matter, he watched the group in silence, before looking to the man.

"It is a strange thing to try and come here. You wish to fight Nargel's pet? It will be a more difficult fight then that Shub was. While he isn't seemingly immune to melee attacks, he has armor hard skin, and many heads."

It was then that the women spoke of eatting, and slit her wrists. With a wave of his hand, and some words, the blood clotted, stopping the bleed.

"I thank you for the offer, but you are mistaking my kind for another of Nargel's creatures. We judged do not need to eat at all, though I sometimes enjoy the taste of good foods. The ones that feed on blood are the Morpheose, another of Nargels cursed. They are an even worse form then my own." His eyes watched them eat, as he sat in silence.

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As they finished he noticed the red head trying to open the chest she had found. She tried something, then started to kick at it. After a few minutes, she popped it open alittle, before then turnign around and sitting on it, closing it again.

"What the hell was that?" He said, beforre sighing, and standing up. Well, what to do what to do. When she asked about what was in the future, he was about to answer death, however, something was coming. Something big. No, not now, it was a time to see what else these people could do.

[Airo Maldorn]

Pressing the heels of her palm into her eyes, Airo rubbed the soreness from her eyes as she fought off the overwhelming pain that washed over her. Each wave of pain was slowly cycling down to nothing as her body slowly replenished the energy she expelled. Letting her hands fall from her face she blindly reached for the rumpled up green cloth that had been used as her pillow. Instead of using it herself, Airo held it out to the red head.

“I believe this is yours.” Airo stated as she began looking around for her own pack. “I have something warm to wear while my things dry.” When Cyri, still overly occupied with the chest that she brought in, Airo leaned over and placed the dress within arm’s reach of the woman who was kind enough to lend it to her. Ignoring her own modesty for a brief moment, she rose to her feet and walked to where her travel pack and swords lay unattended. Ludo watched her with care in his big brown eyes moving only as he rested near the warmth of the fire. With fingers moving deftly over the laced latches of the main pouch, Airo got into the simple leather pack. Rummaging around blindly she pulled out a wine skin and a leather pouch of dried fruits and nuts while still looking for the robe she knew she packed. After a few more trying minutes she found it and wriggled the dry silken wool over her bare skin.

“Ardearian will kill us all.” Airo stated point blank as she turned to face the group. “If you go towards the Village of Worms she will kill us. There is no defeating the hydra.”

Airo stopped and looked around. “Why can I not see your face in my vision? The last time this occurred I ran into a minion of the God of Death. And she was more apt to rip out my throat than share a fire with me or mortal ilk for that matter.”

[Deleted]

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Thing’s seemed to lighten up once the bizarrely misshapen man, apparently a Judged of Nargel, began to speak. Jericho returned his xiphos to its resting place on the floor and went back to sitting, watching the strange way he interacted with Stormborn. Perhaps she didn’t pick it up, but he could tell by the way that he was looking at her that there was more on the undead’s mind than perhaps she thought. It was odd, he thought, that someone of the Judged’s position could think of such things…though he supposed that when he died, he’d be the same way.

Cyri stirred the pot a little and then they all began to collect a little from the bowl of stew. It wasn’t exactly the best meal he had ever eaten, but, it was food, and it was hot, so two out of three weren’t bad. He savored it a bit, eating slowly mainly because all he had left to do for the night was bed down and wait for the rising of the sun. Once he had eaten, he set back to redressing in his clothing and armor; he didn’t particularly care for sleeping in his armor, but he had done it before and in the company of strangers in the land of Caldrea, it was probably better that way. Cyri began to struggle with the large chest once more while he adjusted his Ultima Harness, and when she seemed to accidentally relock it, he stepped in to help.

Taking his armor busting pickaxe in one hand, Jericho brought the piked-end around and buried it between the gap of the lid and forward wall of the body. The sound of wood busting split the room, and Jericho worked the pickaxe around in a way as to create as much separation damage as possible before swinging again and again, busting a bigger and bigger gap between the forward wall and lid until finally the audible clunk of the lock failing could be heard all the way around the room, and then he used his foot to kick the lid back.

He began to rummage the contents, pushing aside a collection of seemingly random crap and small trinkets, finding any number of useful items or even, in Jericho’s case, a coin purse in the contents. He pulled the purse up and felt it’s wait; there seemed to be a good content worth of gold inside. He smiled a little. It was, after all, the small things in life that were most worth while.

With the coin purse stashed away in his butt-pack, Jericho returned to the other side of the fire and sat down, listening to the conversation between Cyri and their newcomer. Then he watched Cyri cut herself, and watched blood spatter the floor. There was a second where Jericho only sat in wide eyed amazement before covering his eyes with his hand and looking at the floor in disbelief that that had just happened. Perhaps it was a gesture of friendship…but he wasn’t terribly sure it was necessary.

”What’s your name, stranger?”[/b] Jericho finally asked He wasn’t sure if the Judged had already identified himself or not, but if he had he had missed it. He didn’t speak again until the Judged had identified himself, after Airo had spoken. Jericho’s eyes squinted together. Us. Slowly he shook his head and prepared to separate himself from the group.

”My dear Ms. Maldorn, there is no ‘us’ in this battle.”[/b] Jericho stated softly and stood. ”I came here to face the hydra alone. If anyone dies, then, it shall be me, and to be frank, I haven’t quite decided that I’m at that point in my life where I’m ready to be plowing the fairer of the Godlings in the Afterlife.”[/b]

Jericho returned his shield to his back, along with his spear, placing his other weapons in their respective places. The night wore on, and he hadn’t really had a chance to sleep, but now was the time for separating from this group before they formed any further delusions that they were to accompany him in his battle. He was just beginning to bid them a good night before the approaching cacophony filled his ears. His eyes closed a little and he cursed under his breath.

Why couldn’t leaving be easy?

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[Airo Maldorn]

“I don’t even know why I bother to speak to a heidon (barbarian) such as yourself.” Airo composed herself as indignation seeped into every word as she shifted away from the fire. Smoked billowed up thick and black shifted in the unseen wind currents as the Judged and the scarlet haired woman greeted each other and carried on a conversation that Airo was uninterested in. To her left, nestled in with her belongings, Ludo’s big brown eyes watched everyone, his eyebrows the only give away of who he was looking at. Shaking her head slightly, she rummaged through a small pocket on her pack and removed a bit of dried fish. Tearing apiece off for herself she gave the rest of it to Ludo. Lifting his head, he opened his mouth with a mild suction noise as he practically inhaled the food set before him. “Dwr damn you for not heeding my vision of what the twisted twins have in store for the lot of us. I hope the damnable hydra sucks the marrow from you bones.”

From the far part of the room where an ancient door once stood, a great whoosh followed by the leathery commotion brought about by wings of some large lizard like creature caused Ludo’s ears to perk as he growled in the general direction. Airo turned her head towards the doorway, a spell poised at the tip of her tongue ready to be let loose. The scarlet haired woman, Cyri was in an intense discussion with her feathery companion. After a short discourse the parrot finally began translating the words that were coming from what was discerned to be the name of the wyvern, Blarg. Airo clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth upon hearing this, discharging the gathered magical energy she was about to unleash.

“Do not look at me, I am no cleric.” Airo shrugged looking at the collected members of the make shift party before going back to her bag to search for the dried fruits and wine skin she knew was there. “Besides by all accounts the fact that this dragon-kin has managed to survive its own enthrallment to Queen Hydra of the Icy South, why would it incline itself to the good natured tending of a group of bipedal snacks?” Airo through that question out just before taking a deep swig of a sweet liquor known as Lunsta’s Necter that she had ‘borrowed’ from her brother’s wine cellar. After taking a few quick gulps, Airo licked her lips and offered the skin to those around her.

[Deleted]

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It seemed to Jericho that he was perpetually housed in the center of a shit sandwich, with shit all around him, shit for bread, and shit for condiments. He had ventured into Caldrea hoping for a quiet stroll to the Village of Worms, and had stopped when a mage had literally appeared not too far ahead of him. Ok, that was unexpected, but that he would have to run off to the rescue of a currier shortly thereafter only to fight a monster that was seemingly indestructible just to receive a letter from a child claiming to be his as reward…well, that had just been another irritating add on. Then of course they had encountered some dead guy who liked to play with fire and had trekked back to the Temple of Destruction in order to survive the night. That’s when the little naked red head had dragged a chest full of treasure into the room. That was a plus…until the god’s be damned wyvern landed outside and scared the parrot into a shrieking spree. Jericho sighed and wiped his hand across his face before pulling his helmet down tight and brandishing both his shield and spear.

”Then by all means, keep your man pleaser shut.”[/color] He said in reply to Airo at being called a heidon. ”The fight with the hydra is mine. I came here alone to face it alone. You are free to follow, but no further.”[/color]

The next order of business, after mouthing off to the blade mage, was to take care of the wyvern. Ire boiled in Jericho’s gut at the beast’s demands (or seeming demands) for food and medical aid. He had been held up long enough, and there wouldn’t be any peace for him tonight. His irritation had already pushed him beyond that point, but the confrontation with the blade mage and now the big flying lizard wasn’t helping anything. He bounced to and fro on the balls of his feet a time or two and then motioned to the parrot.

”You, bird brain;”[/color] He started, more of an ass than usual, ”Tell lizard lips I’m coming out, and that if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll leave before I bury my spear in his dick hole.”[/color]

And like that, Jericho exited the Temple.

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[Deleted]

Malificar looked on over at the door, his eyes narrowing, when he saw one of the Wyverns. One of the stupid ones it seemed like. The argument soon ended between the Mage and the fighter. Malificar didn't really care, the Hydra was a beast of Nargel, and he had no intention of fighting it. Hell, he might even be compelled to help the creature, if only not to piss Nargel off more then he already had.

The Wyvern was looking for healing and food? Well food it had found, in the shape of the three warm bodies walking around, 5 if you counted the little bird and the dog. Watching as the man made his way towards it, he smirked a bit. With the man leaving, he was alone with the two beautiful ladies, though he doubted THAT situation would last. They would, sadly, probably follow after him. With a sigh, he looked at the beast. "Only healing I can give you is death. But, if thats what you want, I will insure a useful purpose with your corpse after."

[Deleted]

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Reflections…

Part IV…

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The Plains of Caldrea, Sunderbran
Second day of Estria, AoS 4010

[/center]

The dialogue had been short, sweet, and unexpected. With his spear ready, Jericho had come out to warn the wyvern off; that is, until the red head, Cyri, decided that she was suddenly the group healer and took up the task of repairing the monsters big toe. With the task complete, it had offered her a ride anywhere she needed to go; and so, with an informal goodbye and little thanks for saving her ass, Cyri mounted up on the creatures back and rode away into the night sky. Jericho simply stood outside the temple and watched through a cloud of his own breath, unsure what to make of the entire ordeal. First he had scaled the wall of the bowl down into the caldera known in the tongue of the Winterborn as Caldrea. Then had been the flash of light that had produced the mage, and then further ahead the screams that had tossed Cyri Stormborn, now departed, into the mix. Malificer, the Judged of Nargel, joined the fight shortly thereafter, and then they had all fled to the Temple of Destruction. Three of the four remained, and having been disturbed to the point that he knew he wouldn’t sleep for the rest of the night, Jericho was up and at ‘em, his equipment stowed, his clothes returned to his body, and his legs ready for more traveling.

”You’re both free to follow, if you so desire.”[/color] He said finally, watching the wyvern carrying the courier off into the night. His helmet hung at his hip, and his hand rested on top of it, his hands starting to ache a bit from standing around in the cold without his blood really pumping all that much. The key to survival in the cold wilds of Sunderbran, he knew, was a combination of activity and preparedness. And right now, he was prepared to march instead of bed down, which meant it was time to get moving or get frozen. With one final deep breath, his feet started moving, crunching the thin layer of snow and permafrost underfoot. ”Remember this, though, if you follow; the hydra is mine.”[/color]

He felt like the parrot that had done the translating during the weird dialogue with the monster wyvern because he kept saying the same thing over and over again, but then, what was he supposed to say? He couldn’t think of anything else that would even be remotely appropriate to the odd situation. He had embarked on this journey to learn something about himself, but instead had found companions…and in the damndest of places, that being the great bowl of Caldrea. He had expected that the next living being he would see after scaling down the wall was Ardearian or perhaps some other nasty beast in the bowels of the Village of Worms…but that’s not how it had happened.

The trek across the plains started. The stars and the single little moon of Solabren floated overhead, doing much to light the snow encrusted ground of Caldrea with the help of the geothermal openings around them. Silence befell the group for a long period, and Jericho let his mind wonder. He wondered, mainly, about himself; how had he come this far? How had he not died much sooner than this? Why hadn’t he died years ago? Of course, on that thought, he was reminded of some of the warriors he had met from other races who were still doing well even a century and a half after their birth. Hell, Cyri herself had said something about being more than twice his age. Why would anyone WANT to live that long? Jericho paused his thoughts on the length of his life and mentally wandered into new territory, where he realized that he was lonely. Not lonely in the sense that he needed company, but lonely in the sense that he wanted to feel affection. The brief affections he had been provided by Minerva Cedarleaf before and around the time their children had been born were nice, and that was what he craved again. To be loved, at least for a short time. The Gods knew he had gone long without it.

Some part of his threw the idea out. You didn’t need to be loved. To survive in the world of Solabren you needed to be strong and smart and brave. Or did you? Did you really? His mind contradicted itself. People survived around him all the time living out their menial lives without any of those qualities. Shit, he had seen people make their life’s wages chopping wood and nothing else. Just big, stupid axe swingers. He wondered if people who had never raised a hand in battle felt that way; if they felt as though warfare was a barbarians home, where no skill nor strategy nor tactics nor training was requires; just a bunch of brutes hacking each other down, surviving from one fight to another on their own dumb luck. Luck. What a crock of shit.

Or was it? For the first time in his life, Jericho really started weighing in on all the instances where shit could have, and should have, gone much, much different for him. Was there the possibility that one could be all of the aforementioned qualities and be lucky on top of that? Only the Godlings knew for sure.

A cold wind licked across the surface of Caldrea and over his form, chilling him a bit beneath his furs. His brain forced him to return to reality for a moment, and he looked up. An orange tint was smeared across the horizon to his right, the direction that would be east. Had he really been lost in thought all night? It seemed so, even for the short hours after Cyri’s departure on the back of the wyvern. The sun was now rising, and there was still so much traveling to do…

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[Airo Maldorn]

Nothing was going according to her dream-like vision. The red head had jumped ship as it were with the wyvern, while the Judged simply refused to join in the hunting of one of his master's pets. The behemoth, that was Jericho had already departed the warmth and relative safety of the Temple. Throwing her cobalt eyes skyward, Airo gave up a silent prayer to Ishana and anyone who would listen. She rose to her feet with relatively mild unsteadiness from the over use of her own magic. It took a few moments with her eyes closed before the room stopped spinning.

"Ludo, give chase." Airo whispered to her companion as she pulled on her armor. It was still a little damp but she would survive. After a quick tidy up of the makeshift camp site and snuffing of the fire, Airo turned on a booted heel and gave chase after a barking Ludo and an aggravating winter-born with a desire for his own death. "Hey, wait up." she called after Jericho. I wouldn't miss your disemboweling for all the magics in the world.

Ludo barked happily as he bounded across the snow encrusted and rocky terrain. Occasionally the wind would shift bringing heat and rotten eggs from some geothermic vent not far away. Airo wrinkled her nose in discomfort the smell of sulfur filled the air. Not far off in the distance to her left as she ran over the brittle ice covered rocks, an explosion within one of the vents threw steam and instantly cooled lava into the sky. "Of all the places to visit, I had to come to this icy version of the sixth hell." Airo complained as she managed to catch up with the giant warrior and his long strides. "Besides, you can have the bloody hydra, I just need it's blood."

[Deleted]

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For the great majority of the walk, Jericho had not noticed the dog. Ludo, he believed she had called it. It had barked and played and frolicked while he had remained brain-strong into the task at hand, his conscious self seemingly pulled away from reality while his body continued on like some sort of mechanical automaton. It wasn’t until the suns began to creep into the sky that they had their next verbal exchange, where as he informed the girl, Airo, that there would be plenty of blood to be had before this endeavor was over. Who it belonged to…well, that was a different part of the equation altogether. The point was that there would be blood. Lots and lots of blood.

The trek continued, on into the day, with the sun rising higher in the sky. Caldrea, it seemed, was under a permanent overcast from all the gases and vapors escaping from beneath Solabren’s crust, meaning that the temperature stayed relatively the same and that visibility had hardly improved at all. The day dragged on into the evening, and still they walked, nearly silent as they went. Jericho was surprised at how far he had come, and how much time he had lost, in a trek that he thought should have only taken him a day and a half max. Maybe, he thought, that was a silly, stupid estimation. After all, Solabren was a large world; he had been around long enough and had traveled enough that he should have known better than to make such an estimate of travel time, especially across plains in Sunderbran.

Even the dog was beginning to show signs of being tired as the day wore on into the evening. Caldrea had already proved to be a hostile environment, with the great Shub and the wyvern and the Judged that had come to their aid; there was no doubt in his mind that there were more baddies out there, perhaps even watching them, following them…waiting for the moment to strike. As the sun set, Jericho’s eyes spied an outcropping in the distance that could possibly make for a good place to bed down for the evening. He knew he would sleep heavy this night, and sorely missed Fico. He only hoped that Ludo was half the animal as his loyal Mountain Wolf and would at least wake them in the event that another Shub tried to turn them into blob shit.

Even in the darkness of the night Jericho could see that the outcropping, which was more a raised area perhaps an acre in size with a giant indenture in the middle than an outcropping, would be a decent area to hide; any fire they built would be hidden from silhouetting against the horizon, and there were some rocks amongst the indenture that would help to slow anyone down who could possibly be out prowling for some sleeping victims. Or at least that was how he rationalized it.

”Go on, if you wish.”[/color] He said, taking a seat on a rock and looking around for something to burn, trying to distinguish fuel in the darkness with what was available of his night adjusted vision. ”All this crazy gallivanting around with you fuckers for the last day cycle has left me exhausted, and I’d rather not fight Ardearian feeling like a sack of hammered rats.”[/color]

It did not take him long to determine that there wasn’t really anything here to start a sustainable fire with… He moved on to making a very crappy bed out of what few supplies he had carried in with him.

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