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[Kazmir Saelaris]

P

aladin had lost track of time. Had it been trills? Breaks? The twisting of the half busy highway had lulled the rider into a quite half sleep atop Baron, the rolling plains of farmland decorated with sparse tufts of tiny woodlands putting a quite contentment in Paladins heart. Dozing atop the shifting landscape of Baron, the warrior let his mind wander in haze half sleep, visions of the past season floating around his quite mind. He had come to Andaris in flight. He had come to Andaris to reform all that death had taken, to reaffirm his faith, and to perhaps find the methods by which he might realize his goals. Or so he had told himself. Perhaps Andaris had offered something else. Perhaps in his mind he was here simply because he had nowhere else to be? Paladin had been stripped of his title that day. His familial land taken and his name dishonored. And cursed, no doubt.

In times like this, with the cruel Saun heat beating upon his shoulders like whips of a taskmaster, Paladin was often reminded of the time in the loving arms of his hated Legion. Did they still speak the dead mans name, he would wonder. Did the Century still sing the song written about his prowess. Did the dead mans former centurion still wonder about his health? Did they remember him? He remembered them. How could he forget. One hundred battle hardened men and woman, most of Raskithical or Human species, to the last they were driven, dedicated, and powerful. To the last they were loyal to the Legion first among all, deep love for their brothers in arms breeding an adoration that none could break. Or had he? Had Paladin broken the trust of the bitch-queen, or his Legion? Had Rayna?

She to had fled her duty, her service to greater ideals and severed her connections with a unit that once loved her, no doubt. And for what? Paladin had served out of duty. He had been Legion out of love. But what drove that fiery ice cold woman to her service? Money? Fame? Boredom? What had forced her to flee? Dishonor? Rebellion? Boredom? The man that died was the Legion, the physical embodiment of Imperial dreams and wretched Tyranny. But Paladin was not. And without that which so define him, in his own eyes and the eyes of others, what was he? What was she? A soldier? A betrayer? A mercenary obsessed with coin and bereft of morals or conviction?

~My son.~

'Your son. Your deposed prince errant. A vagrant and warrior without family, home, or land.'

~You are lonely.~

'I am alone. It is to me as wet is to water. It cannot be separated or contained, nor can it be shed. It is intrinsic.'

~It does not have to be.~

'Yes. Yes it does.'

With a half lidded gaze the vagrant warriors green eyes turned upon the woman that road an arms length beside him. He would have lied to say that he did not wish to touch her, a lie that he would be comfortable in telling. He wished to know what was that thing that possessed she. The 'I Am' that spoke of her in the truest of languages. To understand and know and be... not so alone.

Paladin removed his glove with care. His skin suddenly cool, small bumps rose under the sweaty confines of his jute clothes, leaving a shudder in his spine as it passed. He set his hand upon Baron's neck. The heat invaded, as it always did. Paladin recoiled, as he always did. 'Water is wet. Stone is hard. I am...'

“Why did you leave.” Paladin asked through his dusty throat. “Your military. Why did you leave it behind?” Paladin knew he should not have asked her.

Dialogue Color Key
"Paladin." "Norn." ~Pala~

[Yanahalqah]

The way to the port was long. Long and boring. The sound of horseshoes tapping on stone had long since become part of the background noise, as had the occasional snort or whinny of the horses. And their smell. Yana was not particularly fond of being in the saddle for extended lengths of time. She did not think anyone was, no matter how much they liked to travel. It was uncomfortable to sit on, and her legs had been in one position for far too long. But she did not complain. She never really voiced such things. Some things one just had to accept. Whining didn't help anyway, it only made things worse. Time would pass by slower, and you be constantly aware of the discomfort.

Along the way Yana had removed her helmet, giving her head some fresh air. In the Saun heat it was not a great plan to wear garments that only increased the warmth felt. She could not remove her armor on horseback, but at least she did not have to wear her helmet the whole time. While she did not think she could collapse due to heatstroke, the Yludih was not keen on testing it out. Her knowledge on her own race was rather limited, even though she'd been told all about her people in the Uleuda. But she'd never been one to just accept what she was told as the truth. Thus, she considered her information neither truth or lie, but both until she knew for sure. Sadly, there was little time to experiment; her involvement with the Iron Hand had given her a lot to do. Which was good.

Horse slowed down her pace, and Yana pressed her heels in the mare's sides, not allowing it to lose speed. They weren't going very fast already. Even if they were horses, it was not wise to exhaust the beasts in this weather. The mare snorted, but did not object further, picking up the pace, much to Yana's contentment. It seemed the stables had done a good job. Their treatment had softened up the stubborn mount, making it far more obedient. Now all she needed to do was keep it that way. The Yludih placed a gloved hand on the beast's neck, rubbing it gently, like she'd seen Paladin and other riders do a couple times. Keep the horse happy. Keep the horse obedient. It would take some work, but if it made Yana's life easier... well, then that was positive, no? Horse turned it's head towards her, staring with one eye. The mare snorted then, turning back towards the road ahead.

“Your military. Why did you leave it behind? ”

Yana could not deny she was taken aback by the question. Of all things to ask, Paladin had opted for this? It seemed he was not entirely himself this trial. Usually, they avoided that sort of topic -at least, they did not speak about it so blatantly. Yana preferred to gauge in roundabout, subtle ways- as both were quite fond of their privacy.

What should she say? Should she speak of it at all? Perhaps for the sake of their 'bond'. A display of trust. To give him a sense of comradery, of friendship even. A feeling of closeness between them. She could exploit this. She could tell him a bit about her, and he would tell her of him. That was how these things were supposed to work. Mostly, people felt that if they asked someone to share personal issues with them, they had to share some of their own. If Paladin was the same though, she did not know. In fact, she doubted it. But it was worth a try, if only to 'deepen their bond'. A bond that, if Paladin felt a kinship with her, was completely one-sided. To her, the swordsman was a specimen, a rare one. She would observe, study and learn, and when there was no more use for him, when she was satisfied, she would discard him. Like she had the military. With the difference that she hadn't been quite done with the military yet. And now she'd lost that notebook, she had to start over. Sure, the most basic and broad things she recalled, but all the fine details she'd spent arcs accumulating... all lost.

“You're not quite yourself today,” she remarked, giving him an eyebrow, “is something eating at you?” It was not a question she was expecting an answer to, and it was more rhetorical than anything else. She sighed. “The military, eh?” Her eye searched the sky for a moment, thinking back for a moment. “I feared a court martial. They thought me a spy, were gathering evidence against me. So I defected.” A moment of silence, in which Yana believed Paladin would question -either in his mind or out loud- why she hadn't stayed to try and defend herself. And she would not answer it. The obvious conclusion was that there was no innocence to defend. That conclusion suited her just fine. She did not mention the probability of there being a bounty placed on her head. It was redundant to do so. “What about you?” his inquiry answered, she now bounced the ball back, curious whether or not he felt obliged to tell her about him in return for her spilled past.

[Kazmir Saelaris]

I

felt like a short arc that the woman stared at him, her expressionless face hiding her incredulity of his question. He watched through an unflinching gaze. His probing, he thought, being mulled upon. She in her way,plotted and planned, her mind connecting dots and storing them away for a future use, as he would have done in his own way. But for why did she collect so? For Paladin it was simple. All things were one in Pala, and thus by understanding one thing he might gain a better understanding of his world, his Lady, and his self. To he the question was obvious, almost imperative. And perhaps selfish.

In what way could his dream, Pala's mandate, be fulfilled if he could not understand the very mortals he thought to liberate? And how could he continue to unchain himself from the man that died, if he could not understand why... Why this mad world was the way it was? Why he had come this far only to hesitate? Why buried this... font, this well of... Maybe empathy, maybe rage. Why, most of all, he cared.

“You're not quite yourself today, is something eating at you?”

The woman's question felt wrong, though Paladin did not know why. He would not answer, at least not as of yet. Instead he chewed on is thoughts, seeking to extract some morsel of Reason.

“I feared a court martial. They thought me a spy, were gathering evidence against me. So I defected.” A long moment passed as the warrior considered her meaning, though not long enough perhaps, as she returned with her own questions.

“I died.” Paladin answered as he gloved his bare hand. She had said little, though he thought that was the point. She wished him to consider the implications. To think upon her. She had turned to selling sword for survival. A spy. She spoke of evidence against her honor and of tribunal in judgment. She was a coward, or a liar. There was not other way about it. Paladin sympathized. “Were you?” The vagrant warrior returned his eyes to the road ahead of Baron. This Rayna was cold, none could argue, but in her chill Paladin thought a spark of fire might remain on those frozen plains. Had he been wrong? It would seem so. She, in her dark deal with who's ever machinations, had betrayed those who had loved her. Saved her life, no doubt countless times. Trained her and raised her in a martial way, as the dead mans father had done. Paladin felt his stomach churn. They were far more alike than he had thought.

Paladin thought a moment, unsure if he mining for veins of truth was going to far. “And if accusation was truth. Why? What did you stand to gain?”

[Yanahalqah]

Paladin's answer to her question only consisted of a mere two words, but it was more than enough for Yana. Perhaps others would have pressed on, demanding an explanation. Too lazy or stupid to think about it. For Yana, thinking of the meaning of words was only natural, something she did with every person she met. She considered and pondered, analyzing and making sense of it. This was no different. Obviously, Paladin had not died in the conventional way, as he was still here, very much alive. His body had not died, no, but he suggested his mind had. The person he had been before desertion had been killed, and another man -or woman perhaps? Who knows?- had taken his place. Personality torn to pieces, and put back together in a very different way, creating someone different. Likely Paladin had abandoned his past, his friends and family, and even his name altogether.

“I see,” she only said in reply, holding her silence for a bit while her eye spied the road ahead. A small stream they passed, and Horse whinnied softly. The Yludih got the clue, dismounted and allowed her horse to drink. She made use of the pause to gulp down some ale from her waterskin, pondering Paladin's circumstances all the while. She wondered what had driven the man so far as to desert, and to have died before that. Something had broken him, and something had pieced him back together. An attempt at fixing the shattered soul, though lacking a manual. Or perhaps Paladin suffered from a multiple personality disorder, and the persona of Paladin had only manifested at the moment of his 'death'. Maybe to protect the original individual, maybe to take over control. Either way, Yana had not seen the pre-Paladin persona even once during their meetings. She suspected that he laid dormant in a far corner of his mind, suppressed by Paladin. Perhaps only able to take back the reins during a moment of weakness of his oppressor. Or maybe he was not in there at all anymore. Maybe he'd just been traumatized to the point of becoming someone else. It mattered not; the man had become more and more interesting to the Yludih all the same.

As she remounted her horse, Paladin asked the question she'd been expecting. He asked for certainty, for clarity to shine through her somewhat vague explanation. But it was not a question she could just answer just like that. She wasn't entirely sure herself. Although, if one were to define a spy as one who secretly collected information on organizations and countries, often infiltrating them, then she had indeed been a spy. Then she still was a spy. Well, the fact that she was Yludih made her a spy in the eyes of some anyway, whether she gathered intelligence or not. But that was fine with her. In this world it did not matter who she was or what she was. She would just overcome this trial and return to the Uleuda for the rest of eternity. And for that she would survive, using any means necessary. She had no love for the people of this world, no compassion or tears.

Despite her lack of answer to his query, Paladin pressed on, asking for her motivations. He was clever enough to figure out what her silence meant. But as far as deduction could carry one, it could not give certainty of the exact reasons someone might have had. It could give one an idea of the possible motivations, but it could not isolate the single exact reason for a certain action. Often there was more than one anyway, a combination of multiple fears and goals to reach.

But his further probing she could answer. There was nothing to hide about that. What had was gained by spying? She would assume that kind of thing was more than obvious. “Knowledge, of course,” she responded, her tone almost equivalent to a possible addition of “obviously”, though far more subtle. There was nothing better than knowledge. Some claimed it was power, and they would be correct. But it also served to entertain Yana, to stave off her boredom. To help her understand things. How did the military work, why did it work? The pay was nothing to write home about, so why did so many stay? All questions she'd been asking herself for years, and still she couldn't quite find the answer.

“How did you die?” she changed the subject around, focusing on Paladin once more. She was aware that it was not likely for the man to let the spotlight rest on him for very long, but Yana did hope he would at least give something of an answer. Something that could give her some insight in his past. She did enjoy puzzles, and Paladin was proving to be an entertaining one indeed.

[Kazmir Saelaris]

B

aron followed the lead of Horse, quite happily, to the scent of cleanness that could only mean water. Parking his wide frame beside the female, though distant enough to as not to press his presence upon her, the draft beast lowered his fuzzy face to the thin line of refreshment. His big black eye watched the female with caution, his attempt at aloofness scarred by his own natural curiosity and friendliness. He was reading her. In that animal way. Studying her shining coat for tiny twitch of muscle and hair, watching her flowing tail and razor straight mane. He, as his father, had come from a long line of racing beasts, war mounts, and show horses. A lineage of ride which, though he did not understand, beat inside his wide chest. Perhaps this is why Paladin had taken such an affection to this particular horse, and not the others. Baron and he had never realized the legacy they were so gifted.

Paladin too watched from the side of his vision, but where Baron watched in hopes of a mate, Paladin watched for dispassionate curiosity and careful mistrust. Rayna had confirmed his assessment. She was a coward or a liar, but Paladin thought the first. She was not, as he had hoped, as he. His desertion was an act of defiance and act of bravery. A shedding of the dead skins to which he was shackled, birthing fresh scale in a cosmic rejuvenation. His cowardice, his dishonor, and his shame were things of service. Altruistic self destruction in the name of greater things than he.

Her response was terse. Almost as though her Reason was obvious or a given. She rebelled for knowledge. Knowledge of what? And, most importantly, why? She, Paladin thought, might hold the often repeated mantra equating knowledge with power... He did as well, but only in a certain sense. Knowledge itself was powerless, as power by definition was the application of a force. So where as Knowledge could be Power, it was not by necessity so. But that still did not answer the question. Why? For what end did she need Power? And did she have the maturity to correctly apply it? Or the wisdom to avoid its manifestation?

“How did you die?” she asked.

For a moment Paladin was driven to lie, as he often did. Rayna wittingly or not, probed into questions he better thought unanswered. He had died. Was this not good enough. Regardless of means or motives, the man that had died was now... gone. Why did the 'how' matter. Why. Why was they question, as it often was, most important. Not how. But why did he die... “I was crushed.” She had seen war, he thought, but had she seen the front line? He thought her a skirmisher, her place beside the shield wall and not a brick within. “There is a thing that is... common. For those who stand upon the forward edges of war... It happens in all armies who employ rigid rank and file or shield walls. The infantry will continue to march and push a position and any that trip or fall or are wounded will be caught below their feet.” Paladin tightened his grip on on Baron's reigns. “He was one such. Over one hundred men marched over. His body broken and battered, his mouth gasping only the battlefield mud.” Paladin could still taste it.

Paladin turned to face Rayna directly now, “I don't speak in metaphor. I was dead. Only to be resurrected and remade.”

[Yanahalqah]

Keeping an eye on Paladin by glancing at him through movement of her green orb only, Yana was aware that her answer was not satisfactory. Partially perhaps, as no doubt it answered some questions the swordsman might have had, but others were left in the dark. She could see his mind work as when she’d given him her response, and thought that she saw perhaps some disappointment flashing over his visage, although only momentarily. It seemed Yana had broken the image he might have had of her. She did not measure up to his expectations. But that was fine. The swordsman did not disappoint her, he surpassed her expectations, becoming infinitely more interesting the more she found out about him.

He told of his death, of his crushing underfoot by hundreds of soldiers. A fallen warrior unworthy of attention. A defeated legionnaire was not a useful legionnaire. Not in the midst of battle. Yana knew this well. She’d played dead to escape the field of war. To slip away from the military she’d spent all those years in. She’d been fortunate. It hadn’t been a battle on grand scale. It hadn’t been between large armies. It had been chaos. Bloody chaos drenched in death. She’d been buried underneath some other fallen fighters at one point, having been at the right place at the right time, someone succumbing to death’s embrace, collapsing on top of Yana’s form. The chaos, death, and disorder had allowed for her escape. In Paladin’s case, it had led to his remodeling. But she did not think him to have died for real.

Perhaps it had felt that way for him. Yana had heard of near death experiences, some of the fallen soldiers who managed to survive the fields of battle had described it. Some had told her of it. They mainly told the same things, though there were differences in each story. But there always was light. Bright white light. Sometimes a figure. Sometimes more than one. Sometimes they spoke. Sometimes they didn’t. But eventually the survivors woke up in the infirmary, wounds treated. Their mind was disoriented, it took some time for them to fully recover. For most a couple breaks. Some faster, some needed more time. Trials. Some did not recover at all. Those usually had suffered a head injury. But none had died. They might have been teetering on the edge between life and death, yes, but they had not crossed into the final rest. Paladin hadn’t either. He said he did not speak in metaphors –and Yana did not question his belief of having died- but she was certain he’d been alive all along.

Nevertheless, his explanation was enlightening. The selection of his words told her enough. He was no longer the man who’d lived in the past. He was no longer the person he once was. Paladin had never referred to the man who’d died as “I”. It was “him” and “he”. While not a psychologist, Yana decided his mind had shattered. In two pieces, at the least. Perhaps there were more, but she only had seen Paladin. Whether it was a conscious effort or a subconscious one, Paladin made sure to differentiate between himself and the man he’d been before. He separated them. Yana suspected he disliked the person he’d been. That the personality of Paladin disliked the personality of the dead man.

Her hands reached for her journal and pencil, and while she found the right page almost instantly, she hesitated for a moment. Her eye went to Paladin for a moment, and she wondered whether it was better to do this in private. A mental shrug rippled through her mind. He’d seen her record various things already. He could hardly stop her from taking notes. Besides, even if she did wait until a later date to write down her observations, the only difference was that Paladin would not see her write anything down. But he would be in the know all the same. In the end, it did not matter. Yana scribbled down her thoughts in a fast and neat handwriting, using no unnecessary words. There were abbreviations galore, along with symbols and arrows pointing from one thing to another. It wasn’t illegible to anyone other than her, but making sense of it would perhaps take a bit or two. And yet, it was not a chaotic journal by any means.

After she put the book away, the Yludih thought of her next step. Should she inquire further, ask about the man from before, or should she leave that topic alone, sparing it for another day. She doubted she’d get a better chance than this, as they were already discussing sensitive topics. And the ride was bound to go on for some time longer. It was worth a try. If he did not wish to answer, then that was fine. There were bound to be more chances along the way. “Do you have a family?” she asked, staring at him sideways, immediately following it up with a different one. It might have sounded like a correction of a sort, but it wasn’t really. “Did he have a family?” The point of course was to find out more about who the man before had been, what his circumstances were. And to find out what Paladin thought of them. Both could perhaps grant Yana some more insight in this puzzle.

[Kazmir Saelaris]

T

he Norn circled above, their inquisitive blue eyes staring below to the travelers in puzzlement. They talked and thought and acted, each so vague in awareness of the greater whole of which they were constituents. These elemental creatures, confused in their impurities and without direction or directive. How loathsome the life must be, lived in a muddled confusion and half coherent observation. Unable to Know these things were truly to be lost to eons long march. They grasped an pulled, bowed to the lords of time which would veto cruel edicts. So brief were their minds. So brief their heartfelt loves and fiery hatreds. Such a myopic breed these mortals were.

Paladin watch the three of one above, their glittering wings warping bright shadows across Barons neck and the ground below. Paladin wished desperately to know what they did. To see the world as they saw it, and to feel the hate, confusion, and love that only they could know. But they, as the Norn often was, were silent. The three of one had but a single goal, a single judgment to make. They were the court of a alien god, jury to judgment which Pala demanded.

Perhaps he had spoke too much, or too little. The swordsman did not know. His companion, in so much as she could be called that, once again with drew that tome of fragmented knowledge and recorded her thoughts with diligence. Paladin cared little for it, though did not object. He did not care what she wrote about him, confidant that even if she were to stumble upon the pieces he foolishly left scattered about, she could not arrange them into the whole desired. For even he himself could not. Though, Paladin was curios as to why she wrote. What puzzle she sought to solve, and for why he was a piece. Yana had always been distant. A cold woman with nary a warmth about her. Quite often, by his perception, critically aloof to others. But surely that could not be true. For if her coldness was a reality, then why would she bother to make records of others? What could they give her by her puzzlement over them? Knowledge? To what end? Paladin put the thoughts from mind. Action, when all was said an done, was the decider. Not intent...

She probed again. Paladin drew his gloved hand through his coppery curls, resting it upon his sore neck. These were questions he thought better not to answer. They could serve neither he, nor she. And, as best would only lead to his easier identification. So, instead of lie, Paladin told the truth. “Yes. You.” At request of the rider Baron tore his head away from the stream and began a slow walk. “You and the miller. And the soldier. And the baker. And blacksmith and the woman, and man, and child. And indeed all things which are mortal. You are my sisters, brothers, spouses. And my children.”

Paladin licked his dry lips. “We tarry. There is work to do.” Pushing his heals into his mount, Baron was roused from his lie surly walk. Cyrene was only a break or two away.

[Faith Augustin]

Peer Reviewed: Rewards!

Kazmir

Points!:

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 5/ 5
Structure: 5/ 5

Knowledge:

Bladed Combat: The stance of a rapier duelist
Stealth: Navigating a crowd
Detection: Observing small details to build a better picture.
Tactics: Out thinking your opponent
Torture: Can be pain, or the threat of it
Torture: Over long terms, the victim can 'love' their torturer
Psychology: Sometimes, what you leave out is as important as what you say
Teaching: Patience and humour

Location: Home of the Jumaana family
Toby: Asked you to help his friends
Pyrim: Your student
Baron: Lazy, but affectionate
Yana: Sellsword
Yana: A complex woman

Loot:

None

Fame:

+1 (general good deed)

Yana

Points!:

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 5/ 5
Structure: 5/ 5

Knowledge:

Psychology: Piece together behaviours to identify patterns
Psychology: Establish empathy to build trust
Psychology: Trauma can lead to repressed personality
Spotting the signs of jealousy (*NB* Could be a psychology or detection knowledge)
Stealth: Away from the maddening crowds
Disguise: More than just the face
Mount: Riding a hot and tired horse requires patience.
Bertrand: Knows how to get a rise out of you
Paladin: Wants you to work with him.
Paladin: A knight in shining armour

Loot:

None

Fame:

+1 (general good deed)

Overview:

General comments. I wish I could have given Kazmir knowledge in "Anti-Seduction" because Maddy must just be spitting jealousy! I really enjoyed reading this thread and I absolutely love the interactions between the two pcs. The way that you can craft whole stories from very few words, yet each post is about the conversation and their views on each other, is really fascinating.
Story Awesome, interesting, really enjoyed it!
Structure No issues - a few misspellings here and there, but minor and didn't detract from the flow at all.

Please remember to mark this thread as "Reviewed" in the request for review thread.
Please record these in the "Skill Point Ledger" you have in your CS.
PM me if you've got any questions at all!

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