[Open] Where silent gods stand guard.
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 31 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6 - Int:
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#1


Are
'A grand adventure into the unknown on the behest of the Shepherd of the dead' would have sounded so much better for the songs the cobbler dreamt of as he tried his damnedest to stick to the shore of the Stonesong all the while managing to not fall in nor drift too far from it.

'The desperate struggle of a stubborn fool to prove something to none but himself' lacked the same kind of stoic poeticism he imagined a tale needed, a hero on a path towards a lofty goal, beset by enemies on every side, both living and dead. Not that he hadn't tried his best to make sure his little unlawful trip would be carried out without rousing too much suspicion. New shoes, leaving in the dead of night, hiding a pack at the edge of the Settlement, anything to satisfy that niggling doubt that kept gnawing at his sanity. One couldn't be too safe when it came to a holy mission after all.

It wasn't as if it was out of the ordinary, the cobbler being gone, but it still had his gut in a tight knot. One that refused to settle even as he got swallowed up by the forbidden woods and spat out at the banks of the mighty river. He knew the shores, recognized them from when he'd went trekking into the dark forest lead by a small lantern and an ascended as cold as the night sky.

Downstream, that was the only direction he had to follow, but follow it he did. Clad in leathers from top to toe and weighed down by shield, axe, and pack in a vain attempt to plan for the worst. A helmet he carried for once, one as fresh as the shoes he wore, another little token to keep him safe in the event he faced the troubles he apparently had a knack for seeking out.

Upstream, wait, upstream? Are could've sworn he had been on the right track. River on his left, or was it on his right? How could one be lose oneself while walking in a straight line next to a river? Determined to push on, come Hel or high water, he back-tracked to where he had started out a few hours earlier, but even that proved impossible. Again he found the Stonesong where previously there where only silent, uncaring trees, devoid of anything but scorn for the interloper and leaves seemingly rustling with glee at his predicament.

Hours, how many? Are could barely see the sky without risking slipping and falling into the river, and braving another drowning was more than the cobbler warrior was ready for, at least at that moment of his journey. Unrelenting he kept on, growing ever more stubborn and determined for every misstep and every double-back, and his unyielding tenacity was at last rewarded with a noise he so had longed for.

The silence, so deafening among the day's ever present sound of flowing water. The undergrowth giving way to the sight of slick, moss-covered stone lining the deep, dark depths for which he had came. "Now that's something else, ain't it? he almost whispered, finally breaking the strained silence.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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#2

"It is," a voice behind Are agrees.

Amalia has not been here since the landslide, the cave in, when she found herself trapped by earth and stone with only Jyoti for light. Better prepared today, at least, the Shield weilds her Luxere staff, newly enhanced by Remi's skills. She is clad in leather breeches and a green wool shirt, her feet bare but for the leopard's pads, her long hair tied back in a plait.

An adventurer, for all intents and purposes, the baker's guise for now left behind.

She had not expected to find anyone out here, except perhaps the Fae; the sight of a human catches her off guard, makes her wary a moment, pausing in her pursuits. She has been trying to use her staff on the blight, with little or no results, but at least it feels good to do something. Jyoti, too, is doing her best, the little whale sprinkling starlight on blighted leaves and shriveled stems. Perhaps it is foolish to try, to hope, but it is all they have.

She decides, ultimately, to approach the man, stepping out from the shadows behind him, Jyoti calling a low-pitched hello. "What are you doing out here?" Her alto voice is low and curious, her dark eyes bright as she regards the man.

Amalia
Her eyes, they know too much.
She'll treat you like somebody but you just can't touch.
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 31 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6 - Int:
Played by: Wiggen Offline
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#3


Are
In one motion, clumsy but rehearsed til there was no getting it wrong, the knapsack slid off the cobbler's warrior's frame and the roundshield swung down from it's place on his other shoulder. A few steps back to buy just a little more time, time to rip the hand axe from it's frog and make ready for what he had been fearing would come sooner or later. No foray of his into the land of the alfir had gone unpunished, so why would it just because he was set out on a holy quest?

For a moment he was ready, body tensed and awaiting blows, yet none came. Ready to return the favor as soon as the shield had done it's duty, razor sharp axe poised to lash out, a coiled sneak just waiting for the right moment to strike. A moment that never came.

Are hadn't even realized he had been holding his breath and let it out as he peered over the edge of his shield, helmet just poking above the rim. He could still hear the blood rushing through his ears, but heart calming for every beat, for no winged assailants where there. Only a woman he thought he recognized. A face that awoke memories of the last time he'd found himself deep in the woods, memories he'd done away with for the for the most part.

He caught up with his own mind at last, realizing he'd been a mute leather clad bear of a man just scowling at nothing in particular. Finding what little courtesy he could muster he slowly lowered his arms and swallowed the dryness the high blood had left him. "Heil, I'm..." he greeted her and was about to explain before he again caught himself. He was on a holy mission, by the gods! Far too important to go blurting it out to any and all.

"I am here on business of my own, blessed by the queen nonetheless. See!" he said, protesting meekly and producing the little token Zariah had handed him, even though he wasn't doing anything wrong being there, it still felt comforting knowing he had something to prove it.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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#4

She steps back swiftly as Are spins around, alarm flashing feline across her features, fangs beneath her curling snarl, her nails sharpened into claws. It only lasts a handful of breaths, but they seem to stretch on for countless minutes as the leopard and the warrior stare each other down, the little whale watching with naive curiosity. Humans, she has decided, have the most unusual greeting rituals.

At last the stranger drops his shield, and Amalia relaxes in kind, her nails retracting back from points, her teeth becoming flat and human. The man is vaguely recognizable now, though Amalia cannot say from when or where: another one of the countless new faces that wanders through the Hollow Grounds. Tilting her head in a feline motion, the leopardess waits for an answer to her question, not stepping closer until she is sure that he does not intend to assault or attack.

At first it seems he will be friendly, that he was simply startled, but no- the girl blinks at the sudden outburst, dark eyes narrowing in surprise, tensing once again. Special business, blessed by the Queen? She very much doubts Edrei has much interest in the woods, and the ban has been lifted, so what is he going on about? "What business?" Amalia asks, a little wary of anything that could be so sanctioned. "And what is that?" She gestures to the token grasped in his hand, her brow furrowed into a frown.

Amalia
Her eyes, they know too much.
She'll treat you like somebody but you just can't touch.
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 31 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6 - Int:
Played by: Wiggen Offline
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#5


Are
The skepticism on her voice was somehow reassuring, proving she wasn't some spying sycophant went to keep an eye on him. Or one more sly than Are, entirely possible, but not a thought the simple man had any intention of entertaining. To his detriment, maybe, but he wasn't so far gone as to write off any and all as harboring conspiracies and agendas against him. Even if the very well could, and as evident by the ascendeds actions, did.

"As I said, business of my own." he bit back, a touch more acerbic than intended. In his mind justified in suspecting the stalker to be up to no good, why else would one go off into the woods alone? Oh, right...

"Sorry, it's just..." he said, grasping after the right words to explain his predicament without saying too much. "I don't know what I can say to whom, but I guess you're no worse than the queen at least. Although she did even allow it." he relented, accent and tone growing a touch less hard with every word.

"I am on a mission from the gods, a drop of water from the Drop. Some sort of initiation rite meant to grant me protection."
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
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Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
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#6

"Zariah isn't queen anymore. We're allowed in the woods." Amalia tilts her head, a frown between her eyebrows. How has he not heard this news? It is all anyone has spoken about, a buzz of information, the swiftly shifting leadership like quicksand beneath their feet.

For a moment she contemplates leaving. Still edgy and defensive, the man is making her set her teeth, anxiety rising in insecure spikes as she wonders what nefarious purpose he might have. If his task is from Zariah she does not doubt it is wrong, and it is this fear which keeps her rooted, determined despite her own insecurity not to let him wound the woods. That she is no worse than the queen eases her a little; Amalia cannot help the ghost of a grin, snorting a little at that high praise.

But it is only when he confesses a little of his purpose that the baker's countenance shifts, guarded face growing open and curious, her dark eyes bright with visible interest. "What protection? Which god? How do you plan to get down there?" This, at least, is something Amalia can get behind- unless, of course, it is for The Voice.

Amalia
Her eyes, they know too much.
She'll treat you like somebody but you just can't touch.
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 31 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6 - Int:
Played by: Wiggen Offline
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Posts: 301 | Total: 311
MP: 0
#7


Are
He knew, had heard, not fully understood, but what did he even? Leather and wood, steel too, a little more every day. And the more he knew the more he understood he didn't, but still the cobbler tried, and failed. Time and time again. Maybe it was that the Shepherd had seen in him, tenacity only rivaled by the foolishness it refused to let go. Foolishness steered onto a purposeful path by hands both mortal and not, towards something worth fighting for.

Not whomever wanted to call themselves royalty of the week though, that he'd given up on understanding. The token felt good though, if only just that. "Queen or not anymore, a royal approval gotta count for something, right? Not like it could hurt, and I've got bigger things to do than bicker with any highness about laws." he said with a shrug, letting the final defensiveness be washed away as the conversation softened ever so slightly.

Although the nonchalant face soon turned suspicious again, then the brow furrowed as he again peered over the edge. Sure, he'd brought rope, but it was still a good ways down. That had to wait just a few moments though, and Are looked back at Amalia. Narrowed eyes seemingly scouring the curious face any shred of deceit, and deceit he found, but whether or not it was just a figment of his imagination, another specter conjured by the ever present niggling doubt, he wasn't sure. So instead of playing it safe he did as a brash cobbler usually did.

"Ludo, and rope. Should one fail I pray the other come for me swiftly." Are answered with a little smile, content with throwing caution for the wind and just seeing where it would end up. "What about you?"
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
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Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
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#8

Amalia cannot help it: she laughs as the cobbler declares his aversion to bickering, relating wholly to that particular sentiment. "Delah is the monarch to worry about, here. But she's sooner take you captive than bicker." A little bit of tension returns as she thinks about the war-chief and their strange, uneasy truce. But Delah has not said anything yet, so they are likey in the clear.

Her questions seem to catch him off guard, and Amalia's cheeks color a little, embarrassed, but still eager for answers, curious to a fault. Dark eyes glitter with interest, flowing him as he looks over the drop; stepping forward she, too, peers down below, staring at the distant pool.

Ludo. It is the last piece to set her at ease, and Amalia now finds herself invested, whether the stranger likes it or not. Chuckling at his joke, the baker shakes her head. "I can help hold the rope. But I have another idea, if you're interested."

So saying Amalia extends her arms, letting feathers flicker briefly over them, a sign of the owl within. "I can fly down and scoop some out, if you have a light enough container."

Amalia
Her eyes, they know too much.
She'll treat you like somebody but you just can't touch.
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 31 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6 - Int:
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301 | Total: 311
MP: 0
#9


Are
A name that rang a bell, not one he fancied though. Álfar, never had they proven anything but trouble for him. As per usual though, they probably had their reasons, and he knew he wouldn't give them much more than cold steel had they intruded on his home soil. Maybe they weren't all that different, the people of the Hollowed grounds and the Greatwood, maybe they could find common ground in a common enemy.

Are was roused from his daydreaming by a shapeshifter's display of power, far more fluid and graceful than he'd ever seen before. Somewhere in the twilight between man and beast, but not as binary or limited as the few he'd witnessed before her. Not daydreaming anymore, he caught himself staring in awe of the strange, placated by the turn of tone and a helping hand reached out towards him.

"I... Yes, of course, thank you." the cobbler stammered and rifled through his belt bag for the little waxed leather flask he'd packed for just that very purpose. "Here. I don't..." he passed Amalia the flask with a smile, still stammering. "Thank you." Are finally settled on simple words, simple words from a simple man.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
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Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#10

Perhaps it is not the wisest thing, to offer assistance to a man she has just met, but Amalia has never been called wise. His apparent awe at her partial shift makes her chuckle self-consciously, her cheeks coloring slightly in a bashful expression as she wraps her arms around her torso, shrugging nonchalantly. "Have you never seen an Attuned?" she wonders, curious. It would be strange, but perhaps he is very new.

The cobbler extends a small leather flask, and Amalia takes it in her hand, feeling the weight and nodding- yes, she should be able to carry this down. "Ok. I'll be right back."

So saying the baker's figure shrinks and changes, until a barn owl stands in her place, the flask clutched tight between long talons. Taking to the air, Amalia dives down, down, down toward the still water below, pulling up at the last possible moment so that only the flask skims the surface of the pool.

Then she ascends with her burden, struggling only slightly with its weight. Creating the lip of the cliff she tries to pass it back to Are, hooting slightly before pushing back, finding a comfortable distance to shift.

Amalia
Her eyes, they know too much.
She'll treat you like somebody but you just can't touch.
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 31 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6 - Int:
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301 | Total: 311
MP: 0
#11


Are
He shrugged off the face of childlike wonderment, not nearly a visage worthy of a valiant warrior on a grand quest. Well, lucky him there was still a light-hearted cobbler behind the mask, one not as keen on trying to put up a cold and uncaring facade. "Oh, I have, it's just..." what exactly it was that had him awestruck was nothing pinpointed at the drop of a hat. No, Are knew little of the world, almost as little as he knew of himself, but at least he could tell there was more to it than eyes gawking at the spectacle of a shapeshifter.

"More..." he chewed the word, tasting it as it fell off his tongue, but he wasn't left with much time to ponder the bundle of emotions he held on to as he was interrupted by even more magic. Magic and a flurry of feathers, and the cobbler again stares in awe.

Rearing back from the edge as she reemerges, Are hesitates for but a moment before taking the flask passed his way. The very thing he came for just given to him by a stranger. A situation he so often had let his imagination run away with, turning a kind hearted stranger into a scheming trickster before his very eyes. Yet he couldn't muster the scorn to do so with another stranger, especially with a father's whispers still fresh in his mind.

"Thank you." he said, eyes still affixed on the reward for his journey. The little mundane flask seemingly so insignificant sitting in his gloved hand, just another trinket, a short distraction from proper work, but turned into something so much more. Very much what thanks to what Are settled on was Amalia's display of kindness.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#12

Amalia dons her human skin with ease, looking up at the tall and awkward stranger with amusement in her dark eyes. It is in her nature to be nosy, to assist and insert herself to the sidelines of stories, and when the Gods are involved, well... let's just say she cannot help herself.

Running her fingers through her hair, the girl smiles shyly at his gratitude, shrugging awkwardly as Jyoti coos. "Happy to help." The reason he wants it remains unknown, but Amalia is less perturbed by this now, her faith in the deities absolute. Stepping away toward her things, she leans down to collect the staff and shield, hitching the titanium across her back and taking the red rod in her hand.

It is growing late, and there is much to do back home. "I should be heading back," she says to the man, glancing at the sky. "But... If you ever need anything, look me up. Amalia Chandrakant. I run Devas Bakery."

Amalia
Her eyes, they know too much.
She'll treat you like somebody but you just can't touch.
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 31 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6 - Int:
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301 | Total: 311
MP: 0
#13


Are
For once sejdr does not move the man, not like it had until then. No fear for powers wielded with ease, but a sense that he was standing before something that was just as the gods intended. To the naked eye indistinguishable from any other peculiar display of power Caido seemed to so enjoy, but his gut knew the difference. The lack of a cold tingle and a sense of unease put any niggling doubt to rest. There was no catch, just a kind gesture from a kind person.

"Enough daylight to make it out, eventually." Are said, peering up at the sky shining back, shrouded by branches and leaves. "The same to you, I am Are, my workshop is a stone's throw up the hill from the square." he retorted, offering the same was the least he could do, and even adding a smile. "I need a moment by myself. Far vel, vinr."


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