[Scalvoris Town/The Tower] Home is Where You Hang Your Hat

[Arlo Creede]

Ymiden 82, Arc 717

Once Arlo had chosen the perfect spot, it had taken him less than a break to set up camp. It would be the place he'd call home, somewhere roughly halfway between Scalvoris Town and a curious looking tower to the west, until the itch to pick up and move on took hold of him again. Just a break. It had taken almost that long to cajole, threaten, prod and bribe his mare to get off the boat, roughly equal to the time it had required to coax her on board at the start of the journey. Peg didn't travel well, but Arlo didn't blame her. The young Dreamwalker and follower of Cassion much preferred the feel of the road beneath his feet to the rolling of a ship's deck and the churning of the sea.

It was close to dusk by the time he had a meal cooking over the fire and in its surrounding embers. Peg was happily grazing nearby and Lyova was curled up and snoozing in the brim of his hat. He'd set up his tent and found the perfect log to sit on, to place near the fire and somewhere nearby a handful of crickets had started chirping, anticipating the night ahead. Still, to Arlo's way of thinking, it seemed unusually quiet. Just under an arc ago he'd set off from home on his own and had been perfectly content to travel alone. But the journey from Rharne to Scalvoris was the first time he'd traveled alone for a handful of seasons.

Peg wasn't much of a conversationalist, and Lyova's chatter could be exhausting. Arlo had grown accustomed to traveling with Vega and if he was being honest, he missed it a little. She could be bossy, stubborn, but oddly enough he missed her picking on him. And him on her. They'd meet up again sometime, he was sure, and he'd told her where he was going when he'd left. But he wouldn't have been any kind of follower of Cassion, had he stayed put too long in one place.

The transition from dusk to dark was just a thin line on the horizon by the time he'd settled in, the moon was rising and a handful of stars were blinking into existence above him. Soon there'd be an ocean of them from one horizon to the other. "Enjoy it while it lasts Peg," Arlo uttered as he reached down and turned his dinner on the spit. "Tonight and the next, and all we'll see is the sun for a good forty trials." Out of all the seasons, Arlo would be quick to say that Saun was the one he liked least. If he had to choose between them, he'd choose Cylus with its constant nightfall and a blanket of stars above his head.

Arlo was fascinated by the night sky and the heavenly bodies that were a color and brilliance not unlike the tendrils of Jesine's blessing that peeked out from beneath the hair on the back of his neck. He followed them on his travels, he laid beneath them at night and studied them. As a dreamwalker, he saw them differently than others might. But in just two trials, they'd be gone.

That, and he guessed he'd no longer see the strange light that had just come on at the top of the tower to the west. The one that made him wonder what exactly was going on inside. A merchant's wagon had rolled by while he was setting up camp and he'd asked them about the place. All they could tell him was that the tower had been there for ages, and these trials, it seemed that things and people went in but from all appearances, didn't come out again. It might have put any number of others off, being so close to the thing. Arlo however had decided then and there, that he'd been looking into that while he was here.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Pash walked with his lute in his hands, worn strap slung over his shoulder, fingers on the frets. It was getting late and their walk had taken perhaps more of the trial than they’d planned, but it was nice just to, well, go for a walk together instead of fight off disease, wrestle with not-deer, or rescue friends from terrible places. No, Ymiden had been a full season, and not necessarily full in all the right ways every trial of it, but it was much easier to look back on it all from the top of the hill that the tall Biqaj felt himself standing on now.

Their walk had just been for something to do, Pash off for a night from Cally’s and Kali’rial not hunting. The seafaring minstrel had brought his lute and they’d found somewhere breaks ago for lunch and conversation before realizing that the time to walk back had probably long passed, especially as the evenings had grown lighter and lighter as Suan cusped on the horizon.

“Y’ know, th’ end o’ Suan is th’ new arc celebration for m’ people,” He began, strumming a few nonsense notes for fun, lagoon blue eyes more on Kali’rial than anywhere else with a smile, “I could tell some stories from home, all th’ new arc celebrations growin’ up. Aye, but m’haps this arc’s be jus’ a bit different—it’s been an interestin’ end ‘f th’ arc, I’d say.”

The baritone of his voice would be easy to interpret by now, warmly encompassing both the difficult and the good, though perhaps mostly implicating the dark-haired Sev’ryn within his meaning more than anyone or anything else. It was then he noticed the smoke from what must have been a campfire. Their path took them over a little hill and on the look down was a camp site for one with a tent and a fire and a horse and a man (none of which had been there breaks before when they’d passed by), further in the distance was Scalvoris Town proper, visible as the sun had set and the town glowed with the lights of candles and lanterns and hearth fires.

Pash felt compelled to warn the man of the attacks around Scalvoris, despite most of those being in town instead of out of it. It was just one of those things that felt necessary, though the other man’s choice of spot looked comfortable and safe enough, the problem with Scalvoris was just how much looks could be deceiving, especially in the shadow of whatever that tower was.

So, one hand still on his lute and his long strides still in pace with the lithe huntress he called his, he gave a little wave in Arlo’s direction with a friendly smile on his sea-weathered features, happy to catch the man’s attention after a shout that carried well because he was a performer, after all,

“Oi! Good evenin’!”

[Kali'rial]

Kali’rial hummed to herself as they strolled, enjoying the fact that for once in the many trials of Ymiden they had been through, there was no need to rush or to run or to fight for their lives. No tears or yelling or angry voices. It was just the two of them, she and the now very lightly glowing Biqaj under the dusky evening light, walking whilst the moon begin to rise. They’d spent the day together, talking and eating, nothing over the top but still terribly romantic.

Well, it had been for the Sev’ryn.

Twirling a small flower between her fingers, the brunette huntress glanced over at Pash with a smile at his mention of the new arc, delighting in the strum of notes he casually dropped as they walked.

“I didn’t know that. Happy new arc.” She said, leaning over to kiss his cheek with a gentle peck. Straightening up, she nodded with a soft laugh as she thought back on the seasons past.

“Interesting…that’s a good way to put it. Of course, maybe it’s just been your view of things. I’m thinking of words that are far more…eloquent than interesting.” The Sev’ryn teased with a raised eyebrow and a chuckle. The southerner knew that he was referring to herself, and the development of their relationship over Ymiden. It had been a whirlwind of ups and downs, highs and lows, and they still had more to learn about each other, more to explore.

Following the line of his lagoon gaze, Kali noticed then the encampment below. A traveller alone on the Scalvoris Wilds? That was either brave, naïve or stupid. She allowed Pash to catch the man’s attention, smiling at him and letting the flower flutter to the ground as they headed towards the camp.

[Arlo Creede]

As last sunsets went, and this would be the last one for another forty trials, the one that evening was nicer than most. It was as if the sun and the stars, the moons; two of which were already high in the sky; and even the dark purple and orange wisps of clouds on the horizon had all gotten together to arrange one last great showing. And the smells coming off his campfire were telling him that the coupling of game hens he'd happened on earlier were nearly cooked through, droplets of fat sizzling as they dropped onto the coals and their skins crisping nicely.

From his seat by the fire, he'd watched the light come on at the top of that strange tower off in the distance. If Vega had been here, they'd have been already planning an outing, a way to solve the mystery of what was going on inside, and who or what was making it happen. But it was just him, Peg, and Lyova these trials. As far as others could see and tell, just him and Peg.

The young man had been on his own, more or less, for nearly an arc now. Traveling from one place to the next, he made his camps in the forests or alongside mostly deserted paths more often than outside townships. Nonetheless it was interesting when it happened, to watch others going along their way, or even to stop for a while to talk, share a meal or swap stories. It wasn't a sense of feeling alone or lonely. If having company, here or there, wasn't necessarily Jesine's way, it was most certainly Cassion's. And Arlo was as devout as they came. Even the hat he wore had been a gift of sorts, from the Immortal himself.

Currently Lyova was resting in the brim of that hat and it was her that was first to spot the approaching pair before they called out. Arlo's connection with the sensations and thought processes meant Arlo looked up as well, and even Peg lifted her head from the new patch of grass she'd found, let out a huff and pricked her ears forward just as the male of the pair called out. Too dark to see them well, the young man wasn't foolish enough to assume they were, or weren't harmless enough, and no matter how young he had sufficient sense to keep himself armed. His pistol crossbow was in easy reach, but something told him he wouldn't be needing it this evening.

He raised a hand and called out in response to the man's greeting, and as they approached the circle of light cast by his fire, he got a better look at them both. Considering the places he'd been over the last arc, and who he'd gone there with, he'd guess offhand that the tall man with his instrument was very likely Biqaj. And the woman? Probably Sev'ryn. Or some mix, the both of them. Hard to tell whether they were a pair, or just going along together. After all, perfectly sensible seeming others had made connections between him and his most recent traveling companion, when in reality they'd been as much like siblings as it was possible to be, without any common blood.

"Evening," he said when they got close, and he smiled as Lyova darted off the rim of his hat and circled the two curiously. Arlo saw her clearly even though they could not. Unless of course either of them was a dreamwalker marked by Jesine like himself. She amounted to a clear teardrop shaped orb of blue light swirling around them both, growing bolder by the second as she darted straight through the woman's shoulder, front to back. If the woman was particular sensitive to that sort of thing, she'd have felt a slightly warm, faint tickling sensation. Be polite, Lyova, Arlo warned as he stood up from his seat by the fire. "Name's Arlo," he said to them.

"You returning to town, or just arriving?" he asked, though he'd guess the former, since they weren't carrying any traveling bags with them. "It's gone dark and it's a ways yet. You're welcome to rest by the fire a bit...There's supper on and plenty to share. You play that thing?" he asked with a grin while gesturing to the man's instrument. No reason of course to haul it around if he didn't. But if they decided to sit for a while, he might just ask them if they knew anything about that tower.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Though his tidepool gaze had been opened to see the spiritual things beyond the physical realities he was used to once Zanik had blessed him, he was neither a dreamwalker nor marked by Jesine, and so oblivious to the curious investigations of Arlo’s fairy companion. Truth be told, the warmth of the fire and the scent of cooking food would have distracted him anyway, a fellow traveler and follower of Cassion as he was.

Pash shifted his lute to rest behind him for the moment instead of holding it, freeing his hands and smiling warmly at the other man’s introduction,

“I’m Pash, nice t’ meet you.” The tall Biqaj returned the greeting, his Rakahi accent to become more obvious once he began to speak more words, one hand straying to Kali not out of possessiveness or protection so much as comfortable habit, perhaps subconsciously revealing their sort of relationship. He gave her a moment to introduce herself with a smile,

“We’re on our way back t’ town, aye. Stayed out a lil' later than expected, I s’pose.” He rolled his broad shoulders in a shrug, not at all feeling guilty for allowing himself the lingering distraction the Sev’ryn often posed for himself. It was certainly nothing to complain about. While they didn’t have any additional food to contribute to Arlo’s offer, Pash always had music as his currency,

“Aye, I play ’t. An’ sing a lil', too. I’d be willin’ t’ trade a bit o’ entertainin’ for your roadside hospitality if you’d like.” The seafaring minstrel glanced to Kali to see if she agreed that a bit of a rest wasn’t a terrible decision, that they were perhaps close enough to town that the rest of their walk back wouldn’t be quite as dangerous after dark because of the patrols, “If you’re keen with th’ company, we’re more ’n happy t’ keep it.”

Pash was happy to sit, to rest his feet near the fire and return his lute to his lap, leaving room for the dark-haired huntress to sit next to him. Despite how deceptive so many things on Scalvoris felt—from guides to fountains to deer to all sorts of other things—the tall Biqaj felt as though Arlo was genuine. He was usually able to trust his gut around people, especially people with food. This didn’t seem like it was a clever ploy, and even if it was, the pair were still armed and not helpless to defend themselves should they need to. Pash wasn’t overt about this, however, not feeling the need to posture or look tough in the other man’s presence, wary of their surroundings more than concerned about Arlo’s intentions.

“Y’ know,” the seafaring minstrel added once he’d settled, “There’s been some attacks ‘round Scalvoris Town, mostly after dark. While they often target women, it’s prob’ly best t’ keep your guard ‘round here outside o’ town until they get caught. I've jus' heard bits an' pieces, so I can't say how bad it is 'r anythin'.” He felt the need to warn the other man, just to make sure he knew, “Jus’ t’ keep y’ safe, o’ course. Thank y’ for sharin’ your nice fire with us. What brings y’ out here, anyways?”

[Kali'rial]

Nodding at the curious stranger, Kali'rial smiled in greeting. The encampment was tidy and well set up, with the smell of cooking food and horsey things making it feel familiar and homely to the Sev'ryn. Glancing at the mare who'd raised her head to regard them with perked ears, the huntress made a soft sound with her lips, almost a click but not quite. A habitual reassuring sound she made to her own chestnut mount when he seemed distressed. Leaning into Pash's touch, the brunette turned her blue eyes back to Arlo. If she felt a slightly warm, tickling sensation it didn't give her a second thought, even if a small shudder ran through her like she had just got a chill.

"And I'm Kali'rial, but you can call me Kali. Well met Arlo." Chuckling at the Biqaj's comment, she raised her eyebrows as if to say 'a bit later?', knowing full well a bit was an understatement but not at all disappointed with the reasons why it had occurred. As Pash moved to take a seat, Kali shifted to settle beside him, grinning at the sun kissed bard.

"Can he play? Pash, don't sell yourself short." She slapped his arm with the back of her hand gently before turning a serious face on the traveller and leaning forward slightly.

"The very Immortals themselves come to listen to his songs." The Sev'ryn said without a hint of humour, before leaning back again. Watching the fire crackle as the Biqaj spoke about the attacks, she nodded in agreement, eyes drifting up to Arlo as he spoke.

"Yes, thank you for your hospitality. It looks like you're well travelled." Indeed her huntress eye had picked up on the little details that called the man out as someone who had spent time on the trails. His well built fire, the way his mount had been settled in for the night, even the lay of his tent. Something about this made her feel comfortable with the stranger, reminding her of nights on the trade route with her grandparents.

[Arlo Creede]

The closer the couple got to the circle of light around his fire, and then moreso when they introduced themselves, the surer Arlo was that his first guess had been right. Biqaj, and Sev'ryn, either part or in whole. The young man had spent half an arc traveling with a woman who was half of each, on top of a season spent in Desnind, and nearly another on board a sailing ship manned by Biqaj sailors. The woman had the right look, and the man had the height at least. Harder to tell if he shared a trait with Vega that resulted in an ever shifting eye color. The coming night had sent too many shadows in advance of itself, to see clearly. Apparently Lyova had found them trustworthy enough and they'd passed her curious inspection. Soon enough the little fairy had lighted on the brim of his hat again, and seemed content to watch and learn.

"It tends to come on unawares some trials," he said, referring to the nightfall as he showed them a seat by the fire, then took one himself. So long as there were other things to monopolize one's attention, Arlo guessed, and he got the sneaking impression that one of them was a particular distraction to the other, or more probably, it went both ways. "It sounds like you're being modest then, about your playing and singing." To hear Kali'rial say it, it appeared to be the case. Turning what would be their supper on the spit, and pushing a few of the coals around with the toe of his boot, Arlo suggested, "A song for your supper then? As a follower of Cassion, I can appreciate that a song is a story set to music, and there's nothing he likes as much. Except maybe," he reconsidered, "A good meal shared by the fire."

Which was why, Arlo would tell them, he'd prepared plenty for all and always would, whether he was expecting company or not. When Pash warned him about the recent attacks however, Arlo frowned and nodded. "I appreciate the information. I rarely stay inside the gates wherever I travel and have done well enough so far. Peg there seems to be a good one for keeping me informed of what's nearby," he said, gesturing to his mare. And although he didn't say it, Lyova was an invaluable friend to have around while he was sleeping. Mischief had a difficult time getting past her watchfulness over him, and their connection meant that if she was the first to know of it, then he'd be the second.

"I just arrived a couple breaks ago,"[/i] he said, answering both of their questions at once. "It's what I do. Travel. At least for the past arc or so. I've made sort of a serpentine path around Idalos that crossed over itself in Rharne, which is where my family's home is. Since then I've visited Desnind, Ne'haer, back to Rharne and now here I am. A bit of sailing in between though I can't say I'm exactly at home on the high seas."

"Were the two of you out hunting?" he asked the woman then, though the instrument made him wonder if it was the case. But he was curious nonetheless. "How's the hunting around here, generally? I was lucky enough to snare a couple of pheasant a break or so ago," he added with a gesture towards the spit on the fire. Those two birds would be the main of their supper. But he'd like to know if he could expect that sort of luck to hold over time.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

“Well, jus’ an Immortal, no’ all of ‘em ‘r nothin’ … but t’ be fair, Zanik also seemed t’ much enjoy th’ food at Cally’s even if he did come t’ see me in person, t’ mark me as his own.” Pash grinned in return, a bit of warmth to his stubbled cheeks. He’d prayed and been heard and changed for it, but he certainly didn’t feel as though his musical talents were at all as perfect as they could be. Granted, that was a creative’s burden—to be one’s own worst critic—but Zanik’s blessing had certainly been a shove in the right direction.

“Aye, well, I’ve sailed an’ traveled enough o’er th’ arcs, an’ it’s always a good trial t’ find others who seek t’ honor Cassion.” Pash understood hospitality and wanderlust and the comfort found outside of city walls, though his preferred mode of travel was by sloop over the sea, not on that awkward land mammal called a horse. He was on slightly better terms with the animals than he had been, if only begrudgingly because of Kali’rial. They were still strange, though, “A meal an’ some songs an’ stories sound like a fittin’ exchange an’ an honorin’ gift t’ both Immortals.”

Pash didn’t have animals or spirits to guard him, but he also was observant and aware enough of his surroundings most of the time.

The tall Biqaj smiled at Arlo’s mention of travel, listening to the young man describe his journeys thus far without bothering to hide his enthusiasm, “It’s a bit hard t’ get ‘round Idalos without a boat ‘r somethin’ with wings. I prefer m’ sloop an th’ Orm’del, it’s true, an’ m’ past eight arcs have been somewhat like your one but with more water an’ less horses.” He chuckled, saying the amount of time that had passed like waves across the hull of The Muse wasn’t something that normally felt embarrassing or strange, but there was indeed an unusual awareness that tickled the back of his neck at the admission in the vicinity of Kali’rial that the seafaring musician managed to keep to himself. He’d enjoyed all of his travels, even the difficult ones, and wouldn’t trade his adventures thus far for anything, but he’d be lying if he hadn’t ever before longed to share his long journeys with someone else. The feelings that stirred in his thoughts were conversation for another time, not now, so he simply settled more comfortably with his grandfather’s old mother-of-pearl inlaid lute in his lap and smiled. Calloused fingers traveled over familiar frets but his other hand rest on the strings, fiddling because it was habit but not producing any sound,

“I’m from Ne’Haer an’ have traveled ‘round Idalos much like yourself—Rharne, Etzos, Andaris, mostly, back to Ne’Haer where m’ family still lives e’ery once an’ a while … an’ finally all th’ way out ‘ere t’ Scalvoris, at th’ edge o’ th’ world jus’ t’ see what I could see an’ play where I could play.” Clearly, Pash understood. But he also tilted his head toward the woman next to him, who’d traveled most of her life with her grandparents as well. Between the three of them, they’d covered much of the world they knew. This made Pash thankful for their luck in crossing paths this eve.

“Me, huntin’? Nah. We were jus’, walkin’ an’ enjoyin’ each other’s company. Maybe outside o’ town’s no’ th’ safest for that, but, well, we’re no’ dead yet.” The salty bard looked to Kali at Arlo’s question of how the hunting was. Maybe he chuckled. Maybe for a brief moment he looked afraid, thinking of deer and scalvuffy and giant spiders. Either way, he was amused now, the tide pool of his gaze having shifted to a bright emerald green as he described his travels, “I’ll let Kali answer that—she’s th’ huntress, no’ me.”

He’d wait until their conversation lulled to strum his lute a little, to test the sound over the crackle of the fire and the noise of Ymiden night creatures that hummed once the suns set for the one of the last times for a whole season. He considered his choices of music, of stories, and of musical stories.

“Since Saun’s upon us, maybe I should sing somethin’ ‘bout th’ stars? Us Biqaj have a few tales ‘bout th’ lights that guide us, after all, especially th’ constellations an’ how they came t’ be.”

[Kali'rial]

Kali’s ears perked up at the mention of Desnind, always interested in those who had travelled from her home city. There were some familiar cities in his conversation, one of them she recalled as Pash’s home. She smiled at the man, waiting for the sunkissed bard to finish his discussion around sailing and songs before she chimed in.

“I’m a traveller too, well most of the time. I’m currently on a…self imposed stand still.” The brunette shot the Biqaj a sly look, before turning back to Arlo.

“Do you have any news of Desnind? I’ve been away now for at least half an arc, I imagine though not much has changed.” As Pash mentioned his time travelling, the huntress felt a small sense of shock, but kept her eyes on Arlo. Eight arcs? Kali couldn’t recall the seafaring minstrel ever mentioning just how long he’d been away from home. Was he homesick? She put the thoughts aside, filing them for more discussion when they were alone.

At the mention of hunting, Kali’rial chuckled and looked at the Biqaj’s emerald green eyes, knowing full well what might be running through his mind right now. Pash hadn’t really been introduced to hunting in the most gentle manner, in fact Ymiden had been a non-stop dangerthon. Turning back to Arlo, she shrugged a little.

“It’s decent if you know where to look. The open landscape offers an abundance of molerats and aye-aye – easy pickings – as well as a herd of hafrein that tend to wander up near the town to drink out of a small catchment of water there. If you’re looking for more challenging and rewarding game, you could head into Sweetwine Woods. It’s full of all sorts of things, but be careful. Some of those things aren’t friendly, expect the unexpected.” Her eyebrow raised slightly and her tone was serious, recalling the oh-deer with a frown.

“If you’re good at taking down birds, then you might also have some luck with the flunnies that flitter around in the early hours of the morning. They are little, and almost too cute to kill, but their fur is really soft and would sell well when tanned.” Letting the conversation settle, she stared into the crackling fire and nodded when Pash spoke, turning her periwinkle gaze on him.

“I’d love to hear it, if Arlo would also.” Something about the idea of stars and constellations stirred deeply in the young woman. They were the guidelines of the world, both at sea and on the land. There was something more too, something that she couldn’t explain or put a finger on, but the idea brought her a sense of calm and comfort – outside of the one that Pash naturally extruded.

[Arlo Creede]

"Zanik?" Arlo said when the bard mentioned it, and while he carefully lifted the game hens off the fire on their spits and set them aside in order to rest. "I can't say I know much about him. I've met Cassion, off in Desnind several seasons ago when he joined in at a festival. Not marked by him, but he's the reason for the hat," he added with a grin, tapping the thing on the brim. And it was a rare sight to see him without the thing on his head. A strange gift from an immortal, but it seemed to Arlo to be a wholly appropriate one. He too was marked. Not by an immortal but by Jesine. It wasn't something he shared off the cuff however or bragged about either, since it was a personal thing and not really his nature anyway. But the trailing end of the mark on the back of his neck was glowing like quicksilver beneath the light of the rising moons. The last night that it would be plain to see in fact, for at least a season to come.

Songs and stories it was then, and having set the pheasants side, he pulled several packets out of the coals and lifted a small pan he'd had nestled in those at the edge. A decent meal all told, served on flat pieces of smooth slate. Game hens with crisped skin, rubbed with a quality oil infused with plenty of herbs. Roasted potatoes seasoned with salt, pepper, dill and rosemary, and for the sweet tooth, fried corn cakes topped with sugared cherries and sweet cream. "Sounds appropriate I s'pose," he said when Pash suggested the song he might share. "A song about the stars under the last ones we'll be seeing for a while. It's a shame too." Especially since the young man had developed an interest in navigating his way around Idalos by looking up at the things and following their path. If he was to learn any more, any time soon, it would require books and charts instead.

"Sounds like we're all travelers then to an extent," he observed when Kali'rial mentioned her own inclinations. "It seems to me we might have been in Desnind around the same time. Or seeing that we didn't cross paths then, we might have missed each other coming and going. It was different than anyplace I've been before. Quiet, peaceful, the people were welcoming if a little watchful of outsiders. I found the Sev'ryn tradition of having familiars to be interesting." Arlo grinned in response to the suggestion that any sort of valuable game would be too cute to kill. "I'd argue to the contrary, if I hadn't already run across a creature or two myself, like that." He was a decent hand with a bow though, he told her, and was glad to learn what might be worth hunting, and what probably wasn't.

The food was ready, when anyone was ready to eat it. But he'd simply laid out their plates in order to let their whims lead them. It wouldn't hurt to let the food rest while Pash played his song, since the stuff had been placed on stones warmed by the fire.