Does Kithran hide her ears or half-Syl heritage in other ways? I'm thinking Aranwen will initially mistake her for Syl if she can see her ears

Course, in her mind, she sees you two in mortal peril, so she figures introductions are secondary to taking action and helping you both survive

Sorry I wrote in Kithran reaching for Ch'dau by the hand first; after the fact I'm not sure that's what she'd do and I can redo that section appropriately based on what you think

Aranwen is just full of questions now though

If you're wondering about the spider, in my head it's in the inner courtyard a bit confused at its targets being gone. Couldn't exactly see where we went through the tiny window, after all. Gives a momentary reprieve to make emergency first aid, I think

Aranwen opened a door to make her way into the inner courtyard, and found herself in the midst of a skeleton search party, thankfully smaller than the last. She held a few wounds over the encounters she had faced, and drawing breath once again, she steeled herself, her resolve, her blade, and rushed forward once more.

Sweeping the blade in reverse, Aranwen struck a ringing blow against one skeleton's head, cracking it with the flat of her blade. Around in an arc, she brought the blade down, ducking underneath another skeleton's swing as she struck at the joint between upper and lower legs, removing its mobility. With a twirl, she brought the blade back up, narrowly catching the blades of the remaining skeletons. The combined force of the blow forced her back, and she knelt outside one of the manor windows, before she lifted her voice in crescendo and lept forward, twirling her blade around to slice through both skeleton's necks.

Turning around in case they had survived the attack, she readied her blade, but was shocked to hear the window smash above her, and a large grey creature and a humanoid landed hard on the ground. Both were covered in blood.

“Take… her… rrow’ka,” Ch’dau wheezed as the surprised Syl peered down at him and the bone-spider’s front legs appeared in the broken casement from which they had toppled, “Get her… free… of this place…”

Aranwen looked to the young woman, who looked more than a little delirious, by her opinion. Her head snapped back up, her golden eyes narrowing at the creature they had clearly run from. She could see the wall buckling as it pressed its weight against it. Taking quick stock of the situation, she nodded, before she looked at the woman, "Can you stand?"

(( ))

"Then help me with him!" Aranwen told her as she sheathed her blade, "You take his right side, I'll take the left. By Adaron's grace, the path to the front gate should be clear as I left it."

Aranwen shook her head as Kithran went to pull Ch'dau upright by the hand, "Not like that," She quickly instructed, "Here, follow my lead."

She knelt down, carefully drawing Ch'dau's arm across her back until she could feel she had a good position with his shoulder, before she nodded at Kithran. Once Kithran had Ch'dau in a similar position, she nodded once more, "Now, lift with your legs," She told her, carefully pushing herself and Ch'dau to his feet, "Up you get, warrior. I won't relinquish you to death."

By this time, the skeletal spider had started bashing at the outer wall, but with Ch'dau now balanced between Aranwen and Kithran, they were able to leave the courtyard just as it broke through.

"When we get to the front gate, I'll get the guard there to let us back out," Aranwen told the others as they started making their way through the outer keep, "I can't believe you two are still able to move at all, judging by the amount of blood on you," She observed, "Just what happened here?" She asked, "And you," She looked up at the kazari, a faint recognition dawning, "Hm, Silver Cat?" She asked, now getting a good look at him without the distraction of being chased, "I see your reputation is well deserved. We need to treat both your injuries as soon as we can, but I'd sooner do that outside of this skeleton-infested household than within. That said, we need to stop."

Aranwen nodded at Kithran, before kneeling once again, "I can feel blood seeping through my shoulder armour. Take the small satchel out of my bag. There should be wrappings in it; take them and bind his wound as best you can. We need to stop the bleeding."

She tilted her head a bit to look Ch'dau's in the eye, "Stay with me," Aranwen told him, "Hear my voice, and feel your breaths. Slow your breaths, and breathe; the fight is done."

Though she was not trained in the ways of the healer as Saeriel was, Aranwen did know enough to have learned that the most dangerous thing for a bleeding creature was their own heartbeat emptying them of blood.

"That feeling is chilling, my friend, I am glad you are so much stronger than I."

Aranwen shook her head to the half-Syl beside her, "It's not a matter of strength," She replied with a chuckle, "Just my heritage, it seems, nothing to do with who I am," she shrugged her shoulders, "Strength is what we each develop through our experiences."

She nodded at the open door, her golden eyes narrowing in distrust at the green light beyond, "I know not what manner of magic or substance is needed to tint those lights green, but I don't like it," Aranwen noted, looking to the others, "If you've a free hand to carry a torch and wish to do so, go ahead and light it. Whatever's here has seen fit to do away with darkness, so we need not be stingy about shedding light of our own," She reasoned

"Kithran, and everyone, please be mindful of the building around you, including the floor and the walls," Aranwen commented, "This is architecture we cannot be sure of. Though I don't believe they'd put something that'd hinder their own passage, there's things that won't hinder them but will harm us, as we've seen with the door. Aside that, we proceed as we have been."

(Aranwen will light a torch herself, and offers a spare if someone else wants one)

Should they find themselves overwhelmed and really need to back off, they can always follow Ara's song. Reason being Ch'dau has heard enough of Adedra's gloating to recognize her voice and the singer is definitely not Adedra, and someone unknown in a place that tries to control everything that happens inside can be reasonably assumed not to be part of the enemy group  

I can put something together to move us forward  

"The style is so named due to the strange music caused by the wordless, soulful tunes which are sung as these warriors rip their whistling blades through the air." - from the class description 

 yes, they are literally singing while they fight

Not too surprised this is a detail Blackthorn missed, or perhaps omitted. But if you go to my first Current Aranwen post, the bandits do hear her too, and I wasn't being hyperbolic about it echoing through the hall she found herself fighting in, in the keep 

I even played with the idea of some enemy calling her 'banshee' as a result

For her current singing, she is doing her best to make a strong song to match the strength she wants in her swings, but it is still tinged with heartbreak

One spooky mixture being mixed there  the lighting effect is perfect

I like to call my projects collectively as 'dreamsynthesis', the act of taking something from a dream and making it in reality  

Here's the thread I've posted some in if you would like to see 

Sometimes I miss nightmares for the kinds of things that can be seen in them. Sometimes they can be quite intriguing after the fact. 

I would be working on my Halloween cosplay, but I actually finished it in September.

Maybe I should try designing a real prop of Aranwen's sword... 

from skeleton to skeleton

Some might have a bone blade sharpened from some older skeleton that had since fallen into an unanimated state. Others might carry the metal equipment they held when they served alive. Others still might just claw with unnaturally sharp bone fingers. Doesn't seem like the kind of thing Adedra particularly made certain for there to be a set equipment/uniform for her undead legion in the making.

Aranwen walked through the market stalls, passing by all manner of people interested in all manner of wares. She had to admit that the sheer variety of goods on display was more than she had anticipated. There was one thing in particular she was on the lookout for, a black mask. Probably would be marketed as an antique or something, she was sure. If she could track down its place of origin, then maybe...

A light touch caused her to stop in her tracks, and she looked down at the little girl who had placed a hand on the wooden scabbard she carried.

"Pretty!" The little girl ooh'd, letting her hand run along the engraved wood.

With a soft chuckle, Aranwen knelt down, "Where are your parents, little one?"

The girl gave a shrug, "That way maybe?" she made a vague gesture, pointing further into the city, "They let me wander. I'm looking for toys!"

Aranwen frowned. By all rights, she was certain that it was not safe to let a child wander alone, "Here, let's go find them," She offered.

The girl gave a wide smile, "Okay!"

Passing through the merchant district, Aranwen and the girl started towards the residential areas. As she vaguely wondered who the girl's parents might have been, that's when she heard it. Screams.

"Stay back," Aranwen warned the girl, "Find your parents, and tell them you need to get home quickly."

"What's wrong?" The girl asked, her eyes widening a bit

"I don't like those sounds," Aranwen muttered. But before she could take a step, the girl placed a ribbon in her hand.

"Okay, I go. Good luck, Miss!" The girl offered before she ran off.

Aranwen tilted her head, before looking at the ribbon she was given. It was loosely tied in a bow. She shrugged her shoulders and put it in her bag, before she advanced forward, her pace quickening.

She only had to see the skeleton charging at other civilians to act. Drawing her blade, Aranwen advanced with a gentle hymn, hardly raising her voice as she sliced into the skeleton's rib cage. Though resilient to her blade, the attack had the intended effect - the skeleton turned to her and swung with a jagged bone blade, easily parried with her own as she lifted her voice, then descended to piano as she followed the blade with her own and brought it through the skeleton's neck. It crumpled under the attack.

"Get off the streets!" She told the people she had just saved, "Where'd it come from?" She asked.

So Aranwen pursued, from one set of people to the next, chasing the skeletons back towards their point of origin in a chain of misfortune and blood. Eventually she stood at the gate of Adedre's keep.

"I can't let you-" The guard spoke, but Aranwen cut them off.

"I've reports that undead are coming from this gate," Aranwen spoke, brandishing the voice of authority as she had been trained to do so in the past.

"We know of no such-"

Aranwen hurled a broken rib at the man, "Explain!" She commanded.

"I er, that is to say,"

"Is this something you can't explain?" Aranwen asked, her golden eyes boring into those of the guard.

"I-I only guard the gate, ma'am," He replied

"Then do your duty and open it! We haven't all night! There's skeletons in the residential district and if they aren't from here, I'd like to verify that so we can find out where they are actually from!" Aranwen retorted.

Wincing under duress, the guard finally acquiessed, and opened the door.

"Thank you," Aranwen spoke in a tone that made clear her disappointment at the delay, "Now, where do I go to get to your employer?"

A shaking hand directed Aranwen as the guard meekly provided some directions to the bladesinger. She nodded her thanks, and stormed into the keep proper, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief that her ruse had worked. She had no reason to assume this had any relation to her own reasons for coming to Dravnor, but she knew one thing. Bodies had to come from somewhere, and that somewhere might be connected to the slavers she fought. Or she hoped, anyhow, even as she made her way further into the keep at a brisk pace.

Aranwen rounded a corner and found herself face to skull with more skeletons.

"Well, were I actually a city guard, I'd say I found my proof," She observed.

Bringing her blade forward, she drew herself into a fighting stance and took a deep breath. Aranwen began to sing, deep, strong vocals of a wordless language that echoed around her and through the halls as she rushed forward to meet the skeletons head on.

With regards to the fact she's trying to draw on primal energy, especially using Ch'dau's blood. And what is more primal than the biological urges?

Looks like Aranwen has a few bones to cut to size...

Hugs for everyone

To a Bladesinger, their personal code, those oaths they take, I feel those hold more weight to them than a code does to a Paladin, as shown by the class description.

"Code: The Bladesinger must live up to the strict standards of their own code. Discipline is usually ingrained to the point where any individual would rather die than break even the smallest tenet (i.e., a dishonored sword is left on the battlefield, regardless of immediate danger). However, a Bladesinger that breaks his or her vows can expect to be hunted down and executed by the rest of the order."

Saeriel's oaths included "to protect those who cannot protect themselves," a very dangerous promise to make. Even if the order had decided she was not at fault, as a personal code it's more important how the individual feels of themselves...

422 E.R, Northeastern Sendria Forest, Sendria-Sylvari border

Before them, Saeriel and Aranwen saw a wooden mannequin with a tattered cloak around it, adorned with an almost featureless black mask. The only feature it had was the bright red lips it wore.

"How?" Aranwen grit her teeth, "Did you hear anything approaching, Saeriel?"

You are both keenly observant, well trained soldiers. But even you don't look at things that are already present before you arrive. It's in my interest to watch over my things.

Saeriel took a breath and drew her blade, as Aranwen drew hers, "What are you, demon?"

I am no denizen of the abyss. Nor would I care to become one. I am Morgana, and you may have the pleasure of enjoying this as your last performance.

Raising its hands, the mannequin's fingers grew longer and visibly sharper, until they were as blades, gleaming silver and red by the setting sun. That was the only warning before it had rushed the bladesingers. Metal rang against metal as Saeriel and Aranwen blocked a hand each, beginning their duet once again. It was different this time, however. Neither of them could read the movements of this construct. It moved as a humanoid, but without any of the tells, no tightening of muscle, not even seeming to care for center of weight as it jerked about erratically with dangerous blades.

Swipe after swipe, the creature forced the bladesingers back. Neither Aranwen nor Saeriel were willing to let it go unchallenged, however, as they together sliced into the creature's wooden body, again and again, sending wood chips flying with each successful strike. But they could not prevent the creature from returning the favour, as it landed a hard slash into Saeriel's right shoulder, and Aranwen's left forearm. For a mercy, neither were the dominant arms of the respective bladesingers, but as they felt lifeblood leaving their body, their strength also began to wane. It was a race to see what would happen first - would the construct be broken by their combined efforts, or would it land a grievous blow first?

The battle was interrupted by a scream.

Always looking forward, like good wooden soldiers lined up in a child's toy army. Never do you look at what you want to protect.

Aranwen turned and felt her blood go cold. Mithwen was futily stabbing at the arm of another mannequin, one that had gotten a firm grip on the Syl's shoulder. The mannequin's free hand went to the mask it wore.

You are MINE.

The black mask was placed on Mithwen's face, smothering her scream even as the mannequin collapsed harmlessly beside her. Mithwen reached up, but her hands stopped short of the mask, frozen in place. She was breathing rapidly; her breath was not smothered at least, but the rest of her limbs didn't move even as Aranwen could see muscle straining and even her hands twitching as she struggled against something unseen.

I would have preferred you brought to me, but I must not be stingy about exerting myself as the need arises.

Mithwen and the black mask appeared to shimmer in the air, then they were gone.

Saeriel brought a hand to her lips in horror, "Dear Adaron, she is- no!" She clutched her forehead, training barely keeping the grip on her blade, "What is that? No! The child!" The colour drained from Saeriel's face, and she fell silent.

"She's... gone? What happened to her?" Saeriel finally asked.

Hm? You can see things beyond where you are? An interesting gift. I imagine you don't think of it as such right now.

Aranwen grabbed Saeriel by the shoulder, quickly taking her blade with her own, "Sae! You're here, not there. Snap out of it!"

Saeriel slumped to the ground before Aranwen could support her, tears flowing from her eyes.

Well, that's unfortunate, Morgana gave a long sigh, You both showed such strong will. I thought I might be able to claim all three of you for my trouble. But it seems I was mistaken. I need not waste my efforts then.

As the mannequin turned its back, Aranwen so desperately wanted nothing more than to strike it down, but she relented, glaring at it as it moved away. It was more important that she and Saeriel were no longer in danger. Sheathing her blade, she sat with Saeriel, and gingerly returned her sword to her sheath, before carefully embracing Saeriel, avoiding her wounded shoulder, "Sae? Sae? We're here. You're with me. We're still alive."

"But we failed," Saeriel whispered, her voice hoarse.

Aranwen shook her head, "No, we did everything we could," She tried to give a reassuring smile, "Come on, lets patch ourselves up."

Saeriel nodded finally. They took their armour off and Saeriel pulled out a satchel of bandages. She carefully applied them to Aranwen's arm, and Aranwen returned the favour for hers. Once they were sure the bandages were set and they had done what they could to make sure they wouldn't bleed out, the two bladesingers donned their armour once more and stood.

"We should head back," Aranwen spoke.

Saeriel averted her gaze, before shaking her head, "Aranwen, look."

Aranwen turned back to Saeriel, for a moment uncertain what she was supposed to be looking at, then she saw it in Saeriel's trembling hand, "No..."

Saeriel no longer carried the full of her soul's blade. The elegant curved blade of a dancer had snapped in pieces, and all she held left was the hilt.

"You understand, don't you?" Saeriel looked into Aranwen's eyes, desperation etched into her own violet eyes.

Aranwen shook her head, "No, no, you just need... you can reforge it! That's something that's done right?" She asked, "Please, I won't tell them. It can't be like this."

Saeriel sighed, looking helplessly at Aranwen, "My oath is broken; my blade is undone."

Aranwen shook her head again, unable to keep tears from her eyes, "No. How many times before have I thought I failed, for you to hold me up and keep going? Please, let me do the same. Just tell me what to do. You know those blades. You know the spirit. You're a seer, an artist, a warrior, and my wife. Please, tell me how to help you!"

Saeriel gave a hollow laugh, "Even if I knew how long it'd be until I could make new oaths and reforge that blade, pretend it never happened, how long could I hide that fact from the others? You know what I'm talking about."

Aranwen grit her teeth, "There has to be something. This isn't right!"

Saeriel sighed, "I have three options. I can return and accept my fate, accept the judgement of the order. I can run and be branded a deserter and oathbreaker. Probably die alone somewhere to some other bladesinger's sword."

Aranwen clenched her fists, "I'd sooner fight them to protect you. What's the third option?"

Saeriel looked directly at Aranwen, her eyes damp and with a sad smile, "I can choose to die here. At least then I'd spend my last moments with you."

"That's NOT AN OPTION, Sae!" Aranwen screamed, before she fell silent, "And what, what of my oaths?" she clenched her hand at her chest, "I can't even fathom-"

"Your blade won't break here," Saeriel replied, giving a smile, "I don't think yours can break. You know, you made yours with far greater foresight than me. It makes me happy to be one small part of it."

"Stop talking like you're going to die, I won't let you die here," Aranwen spoke firmly, "I won't-"

Saeriel sighed, taking a long breath before she drew her sword, "Don't hold back. Please."

"Sae!" Aranwen recoiled, narrowly dodging a diagonal slash from Saeriel's blade. Saeriel's movements weren't as quick or fluid as they used to be, but her swings were still wide and arcing like a graceful dance, "Sae, stop! Stop!"

Saeriel had closed her eyes, using muscle memory alone to weave her sword around recklessly. She winced but didn't stop when she inadvertantly cut her own leg with the blade. Finally, Aranwen drew her blade, parrying a slash that she would not have dodged. Saeriel opened her eyes, "Ara," she spoke, her voice cracked, far from the confidence she held as a singer, "Don't die for me."

"Then why do you get to?!" Aranwen retorted, bringing her blade upward into a counter slash. If she could just knock the sword from Saeriel's hands...

But Saeriel dropped her blade, and walked forward into the strike.

Aranwen's hands went to her mouth in horror, sword forgotten as both it and Saeriel fell to the ground. Her own blade cracked as she watched Saeriel cough in pain, her body unwilling to give up even as her spirit had.

"Ara?" Saeriel whispered.

Aranwen was at her side in a heartbeat, tearing at the leather armour Saeriel wore, and already pulling the bandages from Saeriel's satchel. The bandages dropped from her hands when she saw the wound.

No more words were said. Aranwen took Saeriel's hand and held it to her chest. She stayed that way until she felt it limp.

She screamed into the night sky.

I was considering holding it until some time later, buuut if you're both keen on it... grab a friendly plush or pillow or whatever suits you and I'll get this copied over

I did it. I managed to write Aranwen's worst memory. I'm not even sure I have the heart to post it to be honest.

Kithran flashbacks? Now I'm very curious to see the things in her memories

I also note with a giggle that normally blood outside of a room would be a giveaway to battle having occurred recently, but if that is a bleeding room, then it's like 'ugh, was it even cleaned from last time?'

It is quite interesting how, even aside being stuck in the same situation, the two of them are largely on the same wavelength with regards to finding a strange kinship within the inner fire each has. That will to push forward despite obstacles they see.

Bonding over sass  

PS I forgot I had heard this song some time ago. I'm beginning to suspect that's where a good portion of Morgana's inspiration came from... 

Look at how much things change

A doll with a black mask bearing a smug, red smile swayed above a dark wood surface, the threads holding its wooden body taut and jerking about in an erratic dance. Then another doll was brought into the candlelight, this one wearing a white mask with a sorrowful blue tear, held up by similar threads. 

And yet, things also stay the same

The black was brought to the white with an arm raised forward, and they were drawn into a twirl. The other arm vaguely gesturing outward. 

Watch them clamour, watch them dance, something new, something fun is happening in town

The white was brought away, and its hands were brought to its lips in a mock display of shock. 

Such a mess, letting ants out of her farm, will others take notice? Will others object? 

The black's arms were lifted and dropped. 

But it's no matter to me, as long as I get

The white and black were brought together again, and as their hands were lifted to touch, they blended into the other. There was no visible spot where one ended and the other began. 

As long as I get

Threads coiled around the doll, and the two masks became one, though the white mask disappeared into the black instead of a split of the two. With one final twirl, the doll kicked the candle with force. 

Life

The flame hit the well dressed corpse laying upon the bar, and the fire took hold.

Time to get paid

Why do I get the feeling Aranwen will make for a soft landing for Kithran?

There's two rough sequences of events I had in mind based on what we have already seen and set up

First option is Kithran and Ch'dau opting to retreat out of the alarum of the full alert keep. Not what they want to do, but both are no longer in peak condition, and fighting their way to the witch is less than ideal in this circumstance.

The second option is Adedra's undead minions, so recklessly commanded and sent off, starting to enter the city proper, and causing no small commotion. Aranwen would respond to this threat and make her way inside under guise of aiding the city guard (or the claim of such anyhow).

Neither option is mutually exclusive, and there's far more that can happen in the 'how', but these are the very rough threads I can see to guide the story forward and the trio together

Slight edit to my previous post to include a subtle reaction to Ch'dau

Death cultist priest needs a new tune

I imagine a sharp hymn will do wonders

Courtesy of my blade

- Aranwen