Arathea looked over at the rest of the group to offer her goodbyes, bowing her head down to her companions. "I suppose this is farewell fornow, I shall return once my name with my family is over. Take good care here, I'm sure the officers here will make sure you are all treated well." It was strange, walking away from this motley crew she had been around for so long recently. They weren't like any other companions she had in the past, these weren't soldiers, they were people of all sorts of types. They often lacked professionalism, but to Arathea that had been almost endearing. Now she would be apart from them for some time, saying goodbye to some who she counted as friends. It made her think, for all her flattery and a whole outgoing personality, she didn't have many friends. Most she had were at home, under any other circumstance this would be lucky for her... yet now it was dreadful.

She walked towards the beast she had sit out to ride, as she did she was readying herself. She thought back to her master, Tura Caranion Rolomin, and to something he had told her when she was an istima. The two had an arato with them on a mission facing against a mage, a powerful one at that. Arathea and the arato had grown closer, she admired the man and he seemed to care for her deeply. She began to view him as a close friend, only for him to be stripped from her life in battle. Afterwards, as mage layed dead alongside her companion, in the coming days on the walk home she struggled greatly. One night at camp Tura Rolomin offered his words, words that would touch Arathea for the rest of her life. "There will be people who touch you in your life my child, people who will be close to you in a way nobody else ever will. They come and they go, sometimes you will never see them again. There are those within our order who distance themselves from all attachments because of this, believing it will mke them wiser. But to love someone is to live, and part of loving someone is losing them one day when the time comes. Loss will not be easy, it may remain and that is okay. Let yourself hurt, but remember that those who love you will want you to go on." 

Arathea pulled back from her memories and into the present now, taking another breath as she looked onto the great beast she had to mount, being told she had to go first. The seemed great for her, and with grace and ease she mounted onto Tanna, finding the name to be quite fitting for an honorable animal like this. This was actually exciting, a trip into the sky, she hoped the thrill of it would help take her mind away from things. "Come Seleniniel, we have travels to attend!" Arathea exclaimed, looking down as the mage struggled and flailed about attempting to mount the beast. She decided it would be unfair to let her companion attempt and fail for the next short period of time at this, and so without asking and without any fanfair she gripped onto Seleniniel's robe and pulled her up onto the back of the animal with relative ease. "Much easier isn't it?" Arathea asked as the mage settled in.

Arathea peered down at the exposed thigh for just a moment, unladlylike? Absolutely, but it was nothing she hadn't seen before, and after dealing with the... unique style of cloth favored by the fae, this was nothing. The rider asked if they were ready, Arathea believed she was as ready as she could ever be, then the beast leaped. It was incredible, Arathea let out an excited holler then turned back to check on Seleniniel. She saw the fear and her eyes, and then as the beast began to go airborne she felt the mage grip onto her for dear life. It was certainly awkward, her eyes shut, her face covered in what looked like fear, it reminded Arathea of... an unpleasant memory. She shrugged it off and tried her best to offer kind words, mustering up as nice of a tone as she could when she had to shout to be heard through the wind. "Just hold on tight! You can trust me, I won't let you fall, okay? You're safe, I promise."

Arathea turned to Seleniniel with judging eyes, watching as the mage grabbed on her wrist. Part of her wanted to pul it off, but she decided to hear the mage out. What came out of her mouth seemed almost insulting but she took a moment to consider it, if Seleniniel was being true to the goal of keeping the mission then Arathea could respect that. The mage had released her, And Arathea took another moment to thing. "I don't know Seleniniel, this is a family affair. The funeral will likely be over by the time we arrive, there won't be much of value for you."

Arathea took another moment, remembering the time in the Shadow Lands. Did Seleniniel hold any real emotional investment? Arathea felt that was unlikely, she figured this was all pragmatic. "You may come with me but, you must be respectful. Do you understand?"

Returning from the fae land was indeed a bittersweet, while she did miss the vibrant colors and the magic in the air it was incredibly relieving to return to the more subtle colors of the mortal world. She had missed the earthy greens and browns, the clear edges of the stones, and the fresh moist air. She didn't truly know just how much she had missed it until she was able to run her hands across the cold green grass yet again, until it felt like time was actually moving again. After everything that had just happened, it was relieving, and it helped bring at least a small amount of weight off her shoulders.

The return to the Shadow Path did not make things more comfortable however, and a pervasive stress followed Arathea every step along the way. She remembered what had happened there before, remembered the feeling and the pain. It was just one thing after another she thought to herself, something like that would normally be by far the most notable event of any mission but here... here it was just one of many. Finally however the group was back in the mortal realm, much to her relief. The awe Arathea had felt about these things before was gone, now she just wanted to be back in the Earth. She collected her items as Ysmiril informed the group that they, at least for now, would be going in seperate ways. Truthfully Arathea didn't know how exactly to take that information, Ysmiril had done many positive things yes, but she was also full of constant surprises and constantly brought the group into new dangers.

She bowed her head respectfully before speaking in an equally polite tone. "Farewell, I thank you for all the aid you have provided on this journey and I wish you well." It was not complicated, it was not ornate, but as a simple goodbye from an exhausted warrior she felt it would do just fine. The night would come, but she struggled to rest. She wandered around camp instead, practicing the Eighty Nine Steps over and over again trying to distract herself. But she was not alone, no... Seleniniel was there, the mage, the comrade, and the rival. She had been many things in Arathea's mind but the words she spoke now were hardly what Arathea expeceted, she seemed to be treading some sort of middle ground.

To her there wasn't much of any middle ground, either the fae were lying and attempting to smear the greatest ruler in the world or the Speaker was a villain, content to destroy an entire people to fulfill a selfish need. Seleniniel made an interesting point, but what she said next brought even more curiosity. Tansathil, she was writing a letter to Tansathil; it made sense, he would have more information after all. Arathea considered it for a moment before responding in a tired but but clear tone. "He does have extensive knowledge, how much he'd be willing to share however is a good question. I see this in two ways, and while I may be incorrect I currently have no reason to believe so with the knowledge I have. Either the fae are liars, or the Speakers power is built on corruption..." Arathea paused for a moment, breathing in deep. "I hope you're right, it will be easier if you are."

With that it was time once more to try at rest, and while she had had better nights before, Arathea was able to find some sleep. There would be a considerable amount of time spent travelling, but they would reach Hyanda Nost. It was a testament to sylvari strength and ingenuity, a beacon of military might and power. Seeing it brought back an extra pump in Arathea's step, how could it not? It served as a reminder of what she was serving, it did not clear her mind of her pains and doubts, but it did inspire her. Walking in was a good feeling, surrounded by soldiers, neat and orderly surroundings, the faint sound of commanders giving orders in the distance.

Upon introducing herself and the party to the guards they were brought into the courtyard, like the outside of the fortress it was a well taken care of. It brought back memories of all the time she had spent in various fortifications, some grand and some small, and memories of all those who she had served with over her years as a warrior. But the man they were brought to was not like any other who she had served with, immediately upon seeing him Arathea was filled with a sense of deep respect. This was a Storm Rider, elites that soared above the rest, just like her own order. 

Arathea bowed her head. "Yes sir, it is an honor to be in your presence Rimen'arrna." She wondered of all the reasons someone like this would be here, and what they needed specifically from her. She was ready to be told she had another mission waiting for her before any excitement, awe, or frustration at the possibility of having more on her plate was thrown away.

Her father was dead, it seemed fake at first. The one who had encouraged her to join the order, the one who helped form her ideals, her personality. The person closer to her than anyone else in the world ever had been, was dead. She felt as if she was about to throw up, she was telling herself to wake up from this nightmare inside of her mind but instead of jolting from her bedroll in a sweat she just stayed there. Her eyes were blank, her expression was blank, yet her hands were shaking. 

After what felt like hours Arathea snapped out of it, blinking  her eyes rapidly as the riders words registered in her mind. She had a mission, she understood that, she had duties. But she also had duties to her family and it's friends, to her mother and brother, to all those around her father who had helped shape her into who she was. She could hardly bare this without them, and she had a responsibility to be there with them, and so she made her choice. "I... choose to return home, they will be expecting me." She said in shaky words, trying not the break into pieces on the spot. "Thank you for informing me, Aina'Vakha's blessings upon you."

Arathea was glad to see the possibility of full conflict between Seleniniel and the fae monarchs was avoided, but that was not the main thing to grab her attention. The king had not only recognized the bladesong and the abilites it provided, he had made comments that were difficult to interpret. He clearly understood the bladesong, yet he questioned how one could disgrace a blade, which she felt was obvious. He called it a tradition the sylvari tradition added to a gift bestowed upon them by the fae, a story Arathea had never heard before. As far as she knew the bladesong was a purely sylvari tradition, to say otherwise felt almost disgraceful... yet the king spoke with such confidence.

The king and queen would answer her questions, but not in a way that was satisfying in the slightest. Her whole world was being shattered, broken, destroyed by these words. If they were true than everything she knew was a lie and her oaths were in direct conflict with each other, yet the only evidence the fae could offer was just to say "Trust me, I know what I'm taling about" without any clarification. Arathea wanted to be furious, she wanted to feel anger, yet by this point she just felt empty.

So much had happened, it was weighing on her. She had lost her blade, disgraced it, she had seen a horror beyond this world and almost faced a fate worse than death, and now everything she knew was being called into question. She wanted to cry out and scream, she wanted to flip all the tables in the room and ram her head into the wall, but instead she just sighed. She didn't know what to say, what to do, how to react; she was lost yet again.

She wanted to believe the fae were just lying, yet the way they spoke said that they earnestly believed their words. She weighed her options, she really couldn't say no or else she would die. Yet if she said yes would it be treason? Or would it only be treason if she followed through with the mission, but would treason be an acceptable price if it saved these lives? If the Speaker had already fallen? Arathea didn't know, and the not knowing dug into her soul.

In a voice that sounded defeated and tired more than anything else she spoke, brething in deep before she raised her voice. "I understand, and I will follow this mission..."

It was a land unlike anything Arathea had ever seen before or known before, a foreign land that was mystical and enchanting. She had convinced herself that being surprised by this point was a feat close to impossible, and yet here she was in a place out of the bedtime stories she'd read to her little brother when she visited home. It was like the opposite of the Shadow Path, a realm of magic that was full of wonder instead of terror, it felt uplifting rather than dreadful. But she knew to keep her wits about her, this was a totally unknown foreign territory and she had to stay focused. There was no choice in the matter, straying could lead her with any sort of strange creature and she had no taste for that.

There were distractions, the "playful" fae attempting to ask questions, Arathea knew not to even begin to answer them. These things had risk, this whole place was full of risk, it became more and more clear to her that Ysmirel was an exception when it came to friendliness towards mortals. One thing she was not unique in however was her choice of clothing, all the people here seemed to have no regard at all for dignity or modesty in their cloth. Arathea decided it was just best to try to ignore it, staring would be rude and a horrible look of course. But soon they would meet a friend of Ysmirel, and soon it would be Isilmewen dressed in a way that the world was free to see her. It was beyond awkward, and Arathea felt the urge to palm her face and groan in disapproval but she held herself back. This is a fellowship of perhaps the most awkward people known to Slvaria, she thought to herself in silence.

The assistant would request the groups weapons be reliunquished, Arathea would comply, though it made her uncomfortable to be unarmed. It was common court manners she reminded herself, what mattered was being presentable and being polite. She told herself to treat this like she was meeting any other lord or great leader, though she understood how different this was. And soon those differences showed, once they reached the court it was clear just how different the fae kingdom seemed to operate. The king and queen stood as equals, and from what Arathea could tell they seemed to have reigned for far longer than any sylvari ruler, even the Speaker. It would make sense, they were immortal after all. It was incredible how young their forms seemed, and how it clashed with the look of age old wisdom held in their bright eyes. Arathea bowed, breathing in deep as she prepared to face the ancient rulers before her. 

It had been centuries the man who seemed to be king confirmed, centuries since a mortal was before this great court. Arathea was prepared for many surprises, but the first thing to catch her off guard hit. The king he... knew of the Bladesong, he mentioned it, more than that he mentioned the ability to cause the blade to glow. This was a secret, a ancient well kept secret only a select few would ever know and yet this man spoke about it so casually, immediately Arathea began questioning how much he knew and how he learned it. She had thought of how similar the Bladesong was to the fae way of magic, but this added fuel to the flames of her curiosity and suspicions. But she had to remain courtly, remain calm, she responded in a polite welcoming tone. "I practice my people's traditions, I have dedicated my life to preserving them. It is true that my song can enchant my blade, though..." she paused, feeling a pain at her heart, the memory of her loss striking at her yet again. "The blade I was connected to has fallen, and I have yet to build a new bond with a weapon so special."

The king spoke again, talking of the mission the group had been on, the task to retrieve the lost amulet from the human lands at the service of Tansathil Isil'nari. The fae knew all of this, of course they did, of course they had been watching. It made sense but it still carried some surprise, and more questions. Just what all could they know? It was far from comfortable to ponder. But discomfort would not end there as the topic turned to wytchwood, Arathea had learned of it first from her masters, then learned more from Ysmirel. Now it had come up again, but in an even more critical way, yet another life changing event would strike Arathea.

The fae spoke of how their world was dying, how the worlds were connected, and how the only path to save them had been lost. The wytchwood seeds, without them the fae would all die and be condemmed to nothingness, it was a terrifying thought. No heaven, no peace, just darkness, their memory left in the dust. This would have consumed Arathea if not for a far greater realization, the woman who Arathea had pledged a sacred oath that ran deeper than any other promise save perhaps for herotu to the slyvari people was... supposedly the reason why the fae have no seeds left. Immediately Arathea felt her heart tug at the accusation, it wasn't true, it couldn't be true. The Speaker was the mother of all life, she would never destroy she was a guardian. She felt her fist clench, but she stopped herself from losing control, instead she pondered it for a moment. Yes the Speaker had lived much longer than any slvari should but, she had always been taught that the God's simply believed that she must stay alive to continue her rule, that they had gifted the reat ruler such a long life.

Arathea was tryint to find any words but Seleniniel sent a clear signal, as their eyes met it was clear she was telling Arathea to wait, and wait she did. It gave her time to see what the fae monarchs would say, and to straighten her own thoughts. With hostility the mage questioned, a hostility part of Arathea related deeply to. Perhaps for the first time since meeting Arathea felt true solidarity with the mage, beyond being fragile partners it felt like they were actually on the same page. But the fae response would complicate these feelings even more, tearing her mind apart even further.

Like Ysmirel the king spoke of an alleged old friendship between the fae and the slyvari, an alliance she had never heard much anything about despite having studied the history of her people so deeply. Were the fae lying? Arathea wanted to believe so but for whatever reason she felt a clawing at the back of her mind, what if the things she was taught were the lies? It seemed insane, she wanted to purge the thought but the more she pondered the more things clicked. The Speaker had been becoming more and more absent, she seemed less and less involved as the decades turned into centuries. And the king did not just speak of some unkown fae friendship, he spoke of bonds with the khords, bonds with the humans who were more connected with nature. Arathea had long advocated for the rekindling of these friendships had she not? She agreed with the fae on that issue did she not?

She found herself waging a war in her mind, if the fae spoke true would that mean the Speaker was also a danger to the sylvari people? If she was would that mean her two greatest oaths would be in conflict with the other? She could not stop questioning herself. 

"I-" she began, but she did not understand what she wanted to say. She took a moment to think, then continued. "My pledge is to the Speaker, you speak of old ways I am sure understand this. My duty to her is ancient, my masters share it and their masters shared it, and the masters before them as well. I fear I may be betraying my oath should I do what you ask. Your Majesty, how can I even be certain you are speaking the full truth to me? With all respect I have spent almost my whole life studying history, yet I have never heard talk of this old alliance between our people's, nor the Speaker's relationship with these seeds." She managed a polite tone, a respectful tone even as she screamed at herself inside. Did this count as questioning the Speaker's authority, she wondered if the very words she had just spoken was an act of treason in and of itself.

Arathea had never slept for quite so long before in her entire life, she did not believe herself able to do such a thing, yet here she was. She had remembered the events of the past few days as she pulled herself up from the ground, listening to Ysmiril explain the situation. At least she could feel like she had energy again, something she had been sorely lacking in after so much time spent purely traveling. 

Then Ysmiril asked if the group could hear the singing, Arathea did genuinely attempt to focus on the sounds around her, she did genuinely try to find any semblance of singing but it was in vain. She heard the chirping of birds, the serene sounds of the pools, the winds moving through the trees, but no voices. There was no singing that she could gather no matter how hard she focused, it must have been another of this fae's abilities she thought. It made her wonder though, with all the singing that the fae seemed to do, and how everything powerful they did revolved around it, and with how Ysmiril recognized the bladesong, Arathea had a thought. She connected how similar her own ability seemed to be with the fae, their power both seemed to come primarily from song, they both were connected to supernatural abilities via singing. Coincidence? She believed in very possible, but she still found it interesting, and it gave her some degree of understanding towards Ysmiril. 

As the group began to travel Arathea found herself watching Seleniniel more than normal, she was still caught up on what had happened, how they had both almost been condemmed to their own doom. She couldn't fully shake off just how vulnerable Seleniniel had seemed, how fearful her eyes were, how tight the mage had held onto her hand and how she had sobbed while she did. It wasn't something she could just forget, and she found herself walking up to the wizard, considering placing her hand on her companions shoulder but deciding against it. "Seleniniel," Arathea began in a voice that was stern yet sympathetic. "Next time we have the peace to talk I believe we need to discuss... recent affairs. Don't worry I'm not trying to give you some order or command, I just believe that we need to talk."

(OOC: Open to colabing with Sel next time we're at camp or anything of the like here, of course I also understand Seleniniel may just totally shoot her down here and that makes perfect sense)

But Seleniniel was not the only matter of focus, this was some place where the realms connected according to the Ysmiril. An Arathea just a few months younger would be completely surprised by the site of lake creatures or tails of portals into the other realms, but by this point it felt more like learning about a new forest creature, interesting ut not completely groundbreaking. What mattered more to her was once they reached the gate, and specifically Ysmiril's mention of friendship between the sylvari and fae people's. Arathea had spent decades studying ancient history, she had heard the passing discussion about the fellowship and alliance between the sisters of shadow and stars, but that was so long gone. Before the Great Invasion, before the death, the suffering, the destruction. An entirely different era, one even the greatest masters of history who had educated her only knew so much of. Perhaps they could discover more of those old bonds, perhaps this contact that was being had right now could even help plant the seeds for the two to at least recognize the other more in the future.

The time had come to present to the court, Arathea understood this song and dance very well, follow the rules of the house, in this case no eating or drinkin, don't touch anything. She was as ready as she could be, her mind spewing with questions about how this realm would operate, would it be like imperial law or would it be completely different? Would they be meeting some kind of 'Speaker of the Shadows' or would this be more like a council of wise men? So many possibilites. It was exciting, like meeting a long lost sister and learning about how she had lived her life all these years without you knowing. "I am ready, lead the way arwen en amin."

Arathea sat back onto the tree she had found, trying to rest and get a reprieve from what had all just happened. Her eyes filtered closed as she let the fresh air blanket her body, for a moment her mind went back to home, to pleasant thoughts, but it did not last. Instead as she sat there half asleep the memories of the days events were what filled her thoughts, specifically the way Seleniniel had reacted to them. She seemed so much more vulnerable, it was a side of her that Arathea had never been able to see. This woman she knew as either emotionless or angry was sobbing as she gripped onto her hand like a lifeline, the two simple short words the mage had said rang through her mind, "I'm sorry." Arathea kept hearing those words, the apology of someone who's veil of calm and strength was totally broken down. Arathea started to wake back up, but the memory did not leave her mind. She thought on it as she pulled herself up and began to remove her gear, putting on more comfortable attire. She wondered if behind all the bitterness, behind all the hatred, behind all the ambivalence there was a good person in that mages heart after all. But even if there was, could Arathea ever reach that side? The only time the veil had truly been broken was when she had almost had her very soul destroyed, a fate quite literally worse than death, could it ever be broken again?

Arathea decided that some time in the pools was what she needed, or at least something that could help. So the young warrior brought herself over to one of the pools, placing herself on a rock while she dipped her feet into the water. Looking out at all the batches of water in this place she finally was able to feel a consistent calm, for everything at had happened, had she not honored her vows? To save always try to save a life in danger, no matter the life, no matter the personal cost. She had done that, even for someone who never seemed to care for her, she had honored her purpose tonight, even when the danger was something she could not even understand. Perhaps she wasn't completely lost, perhaps life would be okay.

Arathea took hold of the soft silk rope in her gloved hands, it was quite the fine tool, fitting of a noblewoman to have a rope made of such material she thought. The path into this realm of shadow and fog was to begin, and her mind was filled with a million thoughts and questions as to what would come next. The border was thick yet there seemed to be no physical boundry, it was strange and unsettling, a feeling that chilled her to the bone. The darkness fully consumed her as she pushed through the invisible barrier, pushed into this mystical land. She was unsettled by the pure oppressive darkness, it is said that black is not a color like the others, instead it is merely the absence of light. This realm was as example of land that seemed completely drained of all light, all life, all things that made the world healthy and good; then Ysmirel's song came.

As the world slowly came into view Arathea whispered thanks to the Gods that she would not be force marching through pure darkness, but it was still uncomfortable. This whole place was wrong, everything was wrong, but she tried to keep her optimism. This was still an example to see things that had been lost for so many years, to explore something totally forgotten, but still she had the lingering feeling of wrongness from this land that would not cease. It reminded her of her loss, reminded her of what the past week had brought on her. Her blade forsaken, her pride torn down, her despair. She was reminded of it all, and it was deeply discomforting. She tried to keep her focus on Ysmirel and her soft singing, but even as she followed it her pain kept digging into her heart, into her soul. The agony she had been able to supress it better, she had told herself the worst was over, but this place seemed to awaken the grief in her heart. Perhaps it was some mystical influence, or more likely she thought it was that she was left with nothing but her own mind in the eerie quiet.

Who was she? Who was Arathea Ondolithe? A warrior, a leader, hero, or perhaps more accurately farce. Was her life all just a lie she had constructed for herself? She found herself wondering if it was just her own delusions of grandure, a warrior who could not even honor her own blade. She saw an image of herself as a liar who had constructed herself a fortress of falsehoods to hide in, the true scum of the Earth and a failure to serve her country. The thoughts and questions plagued her, making her ache and pain. The force march was uncomfortable, but nothing unique to her, she had experience doing such things. But the psychological pain, it was a far deeper weight. She continued to question herself, continued to question her worth, but such thoughts were broken by an important happening.

She saw Seleniniel, saw her walking towards this strange light, saw her entranced by it. Maybe it could have taken her, but her will to push through for her sake, and for her companions sakes, pushed through. She saw this creature for what was, a horrific monstrosity against all life, a demon of shadow searching for prey. She realized that it had Seleniniel in it's grasp, quickly Arathea's mind raced as to what to do. She would be risking her life against forces beyond anything she understood to save Seleniniel, to save this woman who would likely never thank her for it. But she was an asset, she was important for the mission... and above that to Arathea, she was a person helpless and condemned to damnation if she did not intervene. So the warrior drew her blade and charged forward at the horror of the dark, knowing full well that it may be her last act. In a swift and graceful motion she brought her blade down on it, begging in her mind for Seleniniel to realize what was happening, yet the mage seemed totally lifeless.

The creature responded, and Arathea felt a cold chill consume her as she tried to strike it. She was paralyzed, she was doomed to be tortured by this horrific thing, her soul binded to it's torment. She wondered if it was a fate befitting of her, after all she had failed, failed so many times yet... she did not have to fail to save this life. She was stopped from attacking this abomination, but if she could not destroy it she could stop it from destroying another life. With all the strength left in her body she physically forced hereself in front of Seleniniel and cried out to the mage. "Run" she said with desperation."run!" She cried out with all her remaining strength. Yet the mage did not move, did not flench, it was over. She had failed to save her companions life, failed yet again, and now they were both damned.

As the dread and hopelessness consumed Arathea salvation arrived, a light pushed through the darkness, the light of Ysmirel. Once again Ysmirel was a force of salvation for the group, she forced the creature back in a scene that seemed straight out of legend. The fae despite her small body was so clearly larger than life here, her serene glow forced the horror back even in spite of it's resistance, it was truly a sight to behold. As the beast retreated the chill in Arathea's bones retreated with it, she felt like she could move without great struggle again. Quickly she forced herself up, barely registering Ysmirel's words as she grabbed Selelniel and pulled her up from the ground. "Seleniniel Isil'nari," she began whislt still trying to catch her breath. "Do not terrify me like that again, I was near ready to die, or worse there. Set aside your pride and follow the fae, nothing here can be trusted."

After the incident Arathea continued along the path, staying focused on Ysmirel and the march forward. Yet her doubts continued to plague her, only intensified now by the brush with terrors she could not even begin to understand. She felt like collapsing but she knew that was not an option, she had to push on no matter how much she felt like giving in. Finally the end of the path would come, and once she marched through the oppressive darkness and into the cool breeze of the material realm, surrounded by the normal serenity of the woods, the warrior let herself fall to the ground. She propped herself onto a tree and breathed in deep. Peace at last, for now at least.

Arathea wasn't seeking violence, she didn't want for anybody to get hurt, that was why she was doing this. Seleniniel was threatening the well being of  the whole group because of her emotions, Arathea was just trying to avoid that. But emotions were hot, tempers had been flared. To Arathea however this was just discipline, a century of her life spent in a military setting had made her adjusted to such things, if you do or say something so incredibly ridiculous as this you would be disciplined. Arathea had been on the recieving end of such disciplining many times since she was a little girl being trained, and the experiences stuck with her. She remembered a time in her adolescence when she disrespected a nobleman in the military, he had been a rival of her father who gone as far as running against him for Erestor out of little more than spite. She lost her temper at him, telling him of the many unpleasant things he deserved to experience. For speaking out of line in such a way she was brought to her teacher, an experienced warrior who had spent centuries in service of the nation and the order. She was made to run seven miles while carrying a bucket full of water after a speech by her teacher that spared nothing when it came to tearing down Arathea's actions.

Arathea was waiting for Seleniniel to respond when Mae'rel intervened, pushing herself between the two women. "And Madam Arathea. I know you do not often agree with Madam Seleniniel, but you must see from her perspective and realize she is not trying to put us in harm's way. There is no need to threaten Madam Seleniniel, I've often found that persuasion has better results. I agree completely that we need not make an enemy out of this ally, but that means we should also avoid making enemies with our existing allies, as well,"  she said to Arathea, it was...exhausting. I have yet to see planting flowers and making love as an effective strategy in leadership, or in most things in life, Arathea thought silently to herself, yet she knew this was not a battle to fight. "Lady Mae'rel, I respect your input but I never sought to hurt Seleniniel, this is discipline, it is necessary. Seleniniel is threatening her own life and the lives of others, that cannot just be allowed," she stated plainly. But she knew this dispute was closing, she watched Seleniniels expression go cold as the two women stepped back from the eachother.

****

The day that followed was full that travel, Arathea anaylzed Seleniniel with both eyes. She had a mask on now, she concealed herself from the world, from others. Part of Arathea was frustrated at how childish the behavior was, it was hardly befitting any grown woman let alone one with such pressing matters on her shoulders. Yet she also understood there was something deeper wrong, something of more meaning. As they walked along with the rather incredible pace of the fae, she approached the mage. "You remember what I said?" She began, trying to strike a friendly tone. "You can talk to me, whatever is wrong we can work out. I won't press the issue, I doubt that would do us any good, but I am here. I care about you and your well being, both for our mission but also for you as a person." She knew it would almost certainly fall on near deaf ears in the current moment, but she hoped it would carry at least some weight. She kept her way following the fae after offering her words, now was not the time for deep conversation, though she hoped once the group was settled down that it could be discussed more in depth.

The group continued to march under the guidance of the fae, even into the night, a night where the chill of autumn hung in the air. It reminded Arathea of a time she had followed a man through the snow, a criminal who had been fleeing from justice for the murder of multiple important people. She had refused to stop even as the sun set, believing that marching through the night would allow them to gain ground on him. Eventually the outlaw was caught while he rested by a campfire, leaving Arathea and her companion to drag him back. And then they arrived, a clear circle in the sky devoid of the countless stars that dotted the rest of it. It was something of myths and legend, though ever since she had taken on this quest from lord Isil'nari she had seen many things previously confined to myth and legend.

Ysmirel spoke, innocent as always and giving an offer. A chance to walk this shadow path, to shave off a tremendous amount of time from the journey, but they would need to remove their iron. Arathea considered the offer before speaking, then she gave her thoughts. "I am for anything that would get us through this... quest as fast as we can. Giving up our iron is a sacrifice I believe to be acceptable," she turned to the rest of the group before turning back to Ysmirel and continuing. "But our steel is another subject, I am willing to part ways with this blade if I will not need to use it, I understand it may be... disrespectful for your people. But I do not want to march into a batte with no weapon."

The pact was accepted, the deal was accepted. Ruadhrí would be spared from a horrific fate, a death that would cause him to strike at his ow companions, some of which who were friends. Despite the objections of some in the group, specifically Seleniniel, and it worried Arathea. A sinking feeling consumed her, Seleniniel and her cynicism could easily make for a massive issue here, and while for now it had been resolved an instinct told her that this would not be the end of it. For now though, what mattered most was saving the life of her companion, the rest could come afterwards.

"Bring the mieslehmä to me," the creature seemingly made of shadow commanded, and Arathea complied. She quickly moved to assist Ruadhrí, quickly providing as much support as she could. Her companion was heavy, larger than any Sylvari she had ever met, but that was not at all surprising. With the help of others in the party, and with what little strength the great warrior still had in him, he was in place, and Arathea whispered a silent prayer that he would live. When happened next was something which Arathea had never seen beore, a transformation like nothing she had ever witnessed. Hair that resembled an auorora shining bright in the night sky, colors which were nothing like that which she'd seen on a sylvari. He ears suggested she was a syl, yet she barely stood taller than Dak. Arathea reminded herself to try not to stare, a flush present on her face. I see dignity and modesty are not... ideals upheld by these people of the forest, she thought to herself.

Ysmiril, that was the name this being of beauty and wonder went by, but more important to Arathea was the mention of the 'children of the shadows' that she belonged to. Arathea remembered her education, learning Imperial history as part of her training. The children of the sun, the short lived mortals living in dying as fast as the sun will rise and set. The children of the stars, the sylvari who lingered for a great matter of time, and the children of the shadows, who no matter what were always there, the fae. That explained a great deal, it was both affirming, a being of such power Arathea believed would definitely be a capable healer, yet also terrifying.

As she began to gather her tools to treat Ruadhrí, Ysmiril brought forth another reveletation. "What do you know of wytchwood?" She asked so casually, as though it was just some kind of common knowledge. As Ysmiril brought forth the wooden dagger, Arathea stood shocked, her eyes lighting up. This material was legendary, once upon a time some of the greatest blades of the greatest heroes were made from it. To this day some of the highest ranking members of the order still had such weapons, though now they were so rare they held more value than some of the finest jewels and diamonds. "I am familiar," Arathea responded trying to speak through the shock and surprise this being was bringing at seemingly ever othe statement. And yet still, the surprises did not end, Ysmiril brought attention to the sap, something Arathea knew very little of. Yet it was clear that this sap was of just as much value as the blades the wood could produce, maybe even more, at least if they could heal afflictions of this level.

Once it was clear the sap was not enough, Arathea took her position to help hold Ruadhrí down. It was a battle, and it took great strength to keep the warrior down, even in his injured state the pain must have been enough to drive anyone on. The scent of the rot being removed made Arathea want to hurl, it was truly disgusting, but she knew it was the process of healing. Then came the singing and the prayers, it reminded her almost of her own bladesong, something deep and meaningful, something powerful and important. Once it was over Arathea felt great relief, it was true that Ruadhrí seemed to be much much better than he had been in days past. He had color in him once more, it seemed like his soul was brought back into his body. But it seemed Ysmiril was exhuasted from it, clearly it had taken much effort, this was no easy task, no simple prayer or spell. This was something truly great, and it showed.

Once camp was made it seemed Ysmiril was still completely exhausted, or at least that is what Arathea had guessed had happened. Watching the being stare so aimlessly with those odd eyes was very... off putting to see, and it left Arathea feeling uneasy. No blinking, no moving, just endless staring, it reminded Arathea how removed this fae was from sylvari or any other race for that matter. Arathea struggled for sleep that night anyways, practicing her motions, trying to adjust to the new blade in a way which she new she would not be able to do. So when Ysmiril finally spoke, she had her attention, and Arathea did ponder her words for quite some time. Strategically Arathea felt it would be best to just get this done with, to not delay any kind of deal with a being as powerful as this simply seemed to be the most strategic and tactical choice to make. But beyond that, after all that had happened Arathea wanted more time before having to engage with others in the military again. It was not because she wanted to run from her duty, she simply felt it was better for her to be more prepared for it.

But Seleniniel seemed to have other plans, and the sinking feeling Arathea had earlier in the day returned. She watched at first as the fae and mage exchanged words, preparing to intervene when there was an opening for dialogue. But it came to her realization that just dialogue did not seem adequate for this, Seleniniel was threatening violence, and to Arathea that meant she was threatening the whole party. Without missing a beat Arathea stepped forward, closing any distance between her and Seleniniel, she looked into her companions eyes and spoke in a loud, commanding tone. "You will NOT threaten the well being of your companions because you cannot put your trust into a bargain, she has done nothing to suggest she will not uphold her commitments, now we will uphold ours. I will not tolerate you putting your life or the lives of any of us in danger because you seek to act like a head strong foul, we will travel with her and that will be the end of this discussion." Arathea readied herself in case Seleniniel took any action against her, not intending to do anything to actually cause lasting harm but she was ready to push her back or knock her down if need be. "We are a group, we stick together, we will die if we do not. Put your feelings aside whatever they are, if they are too hard to put aside then talk to me, we can work some solution out. But do not threaten violence against what is effectively an ally, stand down, I will not repeat myelf."

Arathea turned to Isilmewen, hearing the words she offered. Something to comfort a wounded soul, something to help her feel less weary. Words could only do so much, but it was something to help weather the storm. Isilmewen was counted among friends, and her empathy was valued. “There are damnable things, to be sure, but you are most certainly not one of them,” she said, prompting Arathea to give a weary smile. "I appreciate the sentiment, I do... but still this all feels so empty. The world seems like the color that once made it so vibrant has faded, like everything is in grayscale."

The conversation would go on, "You know, you're as taut as a bowstring, and have been for the past while. While pushing yourself is a strength, likewise you need to allow yourself rest and reprieve. If it would help, I can be here and listen, to whatever you like." Isilmewen said to her, it wasn't going to fix the world yet, it made it more bearable. Having someone there to listen, having someone to understand, it was relieving. "Thank you," Araethea began. "I know I've not been the easiest, but you make it easier. I might take you up on that offer sometimes, though I must admit it's not something I'm very used to; outside my father I've not often truly confided in other people. Sure sometimes I will put my feelings into words on paper but, it is nice to take council in someone else." Arathea offered a gentle pat on Isilmewens shoulder, then finally made her way back into camp, managing to actually sleep that night. (@Isilmewen, I know you sent this line to me I think as an offer to use it in my post, but if not I will edit it out) 

******

The days of travel that followed were brutal, but day by day Arathea found herself able to move with more and more confidence. She was not her usual self still, but the feeling of total despair was fading. Yet as she overcame what seemed to be the absolute worst of her own trials, the group faced a much stronger roadblock. Ruadhrí was dying, and every day it worsened deeper and deeper. Arathea came to realize the harsh reality, unless a miracle came her companion would succumb to this illness, dying and more than likely rising as some freakish being. It was an uncomfortable thought, a tragedy in the making, yet strength was required. She was at peace with the reality that she may very well have to strike him down.

But then the miracle did arrive, or what could be percieved as such at the very least. This figure seemigly made of shadow, it was nothing like Arathea had ever seen or ever heard of before. It stood tall and despite how thin it was it felt deeply intimidating, Arathea gauged the being was likely very powerful. She quickly began to place dots around in her head, it was an enemy of what it called the 'Forest Wytch', which was no doubt the horrific "priest" which the group had previously fought. Furthermore it had been observing the group since the battle with this wytch, and since then there had only been one more raven and no more battles fought with any monsters or creatures of the forest. Perhaps this being was warding them off? Or perhaps if they sensed it's mere presence it wouldn't even need to intentionally remove them. No matter what, there seemed to be common interest.

Arathea had suspiscions, those so deeply caught up in the service of the forest often cared little for servicing the nation, and she calculated that since this being only showed up in the last desperate hour of Ruadhrí this was far from an offer made mainly of good will, no this was an offer that was mainly strategic. Still the favor being asked would save her companions life, and who could know, perhaps the favor could involve getting back at the wytch of the land, something Arathea was very keen on. Raising her voice resolutely to the being and to her companions Arathea spoke plain, "I support this offer. The life of my companion is dear to me, I am willing to pay a debt for his survival."

Arathea worried for her companion in Ruadhrí, the infection was highly concerning, the more she overheard the worse it seemed. But how much could she do truly? This remained a job for the healers of the party, though Arathea devised plans in her head for the scenario that Ruadhrí somehow were to succumb to these wounds and become one of those... things. It was an unpleasant thought, and Arathea was not particularly thrilled at the prospect but once more she knew it was not within her power to prevent it, she simply hoped they could make it to Hyanda Nost and find aid. Her thoughts about Ruadhrí were ended with Mae'rel approaching her, Arathea offered a slight smile in return and a nod, once again trying to conceal her inner thoughts. "Thank you, Lady Mae'real, I will hold that in mind," was all she offered as a response, she didn't want to dwell anymore on it but, it seemed impossible to escape.

Moving to camp felt like it took months, the world still felt so slow, so broken. All the colors were blurred together to Arathea, like the world had turned into one massive piece of abstract art. The sounds of the forest barely seemed to grace her ears, all things that previously would have been appreciated, or at the very least noticed, seem to matter little to her anymore. Instead her mind drifted, wandering back to the moment she had failed, no matter how hard she tried to supress it she couldn't keep it from coming back to mind. It was all consuming, it rendered her almost numb to the rest of the world as the memory just kept replaying over and over again.

The only thing that broke her from it was the sight of the raven, that damned raven that had been there just before the fight with the witch. That horrible animal was nothing but a bad omen to Arathea, it had to be connected to the disgusting hobble of a man who had helped bring this all on. Arathea felt rage boiling in her, she wanted to pick up a rock and throw it at the bird, to clip it's wings and kill the animal. But she breathed in deep, it was unbecoming of her to think of such things, let alone act on them. Her mistakes were only her own, all the blame lied upon herself in her eyes... this was all her failure.

She attempted to find privacy, moving away to practice her eighty nine steps, practice the bladesong and keep her skills sharp. But every swing with this blade was so wrong, every step felt so off, everything felt so broken to her. She remembered the words Mae'rel had given, to look up at the stars, but the stars did not offer solace. She felt so alone, so hopeless, she cried out to herself with no intention for anyone else to hear. "Damn you Arathea, damn you," she stated, feeling the weight of it all coming down like a crashing wave, just as it had before. 

Arathea turned her attention to Dak and Isilmewen, showing appreciation for the sympathy they both showed, though currently it did little to help. Indeed Dak was right, something would need to be done about the fallen blade, leaving it on the field would be disrespectful to such a weapon. To let it rust and rot would not befit it, she learned that in training, the weapon needed to be returned to the the order. "We will see it returned Megilindar Nost, there the order may take care of it and,,, hopefully it will find itself a new master," Arathea responded, preparing to to request Dak take the weapon when she saw Mae'rel.

The gesture Mae'rel offered was respectful, it was proper, and it preserved the weapons honour well. "Thank you," Arathea began, her voice thankful. "This is very decent of you Madam Mae'rel, I... do appreciate it greatly." Arathea held herself back before she broken down again, not right now, now was not the time. "The blade is not mine to carry any longer but that does not mean it should be left to wither away, in the order it will find purpose once again." What would my teachers have thought? I suppose at least they would be happy I'm returning it but...

Arathea remained stuck in internal dialogue until she found herself thrusted out of it by Ruadhrí, the yelling from her companion forcing her back into reality. Of course he doesn't understand... he's from a simpler people, they don't really have much a concept of honour do they? Arathea breathed in deep before responding, the yelling was frustrating but she earnestly attempted to not be too hostile, both out of empathy and seeing that Ruadhrí didn't seem to act rational when angry. "The blade is dishonoured, Ruadhrí, by my code I can never pick it up again. It's simple, I cannot touch it, ever." She tried to be matter of factly while speaking, it seemed like the best way to approach Ruadhrí. As she focused in on him, she noticed his wounds and raised an eyebrow, they were very... off, and as Rosariel came to treat him those thoughts were confirmed. For now she'd leave it to the holy people, it was their domain and she had to focus elsewhere.

It was wrong, everything was wrong, this sword was wrong, the way Arathea moved felt wrong; the world was all wrong. She fought less out of will to preserve herself and more out of duty to her companions, in her haze of shock she wondered if it would be better if she fell on this field. The right movement from an owlbear could tear her apart, and right now that seemed to be much more pleasant than it typically would be, though the kept the thoughts back. You're a leader, you are a leader, you are their leader. Do not fail them, do not fail them, do not fail them. She tried to tell herself in her mind, though it felt as if it was all lies, the affirmations had no weight behind them. Like a small bandage on a poisoned wound, they did little to stop the horrible pain, but at least it kept the immediate bleeding down.

Finally, the last owlbear fell, but as her sword pierced through it's flesh to deliver a final killing blow Arathea did not feel triumphent, in fact she felt more defeated than she had ever felt in her entire life. She never had felt so small, so absolutely meaningless, but now it like she was an ant in a world entirely unfamiliar. Her eyes wandered onto her fallen sword, the pristine work of art which she had desecrated and disgraced, her own personal temple left in ruin. She wanted to reach out, to feel it's masterwork steel and carefully crafted ivory grip, the name engraved with gold on the guard said to have belonged to a leader of resistance against the Anathari. This weapon had such a story, such a history, and now part of that story would include disgrace and failure.

And the wretch who helped bring all of this on had fled, like the cowardly rat he was he ran away. Arathea could not even feel the pleasure of putting the scum down, she wanted to scream, she wanted to cry out and tear him apart, she wanted to feel any emotion but sorrow and guilt, yet she didn't have it in her. She turned around to face the group, trying and failing to seem calm and composed. "We need to collect ourselves and find an area to set up camp in, we're not in any condition to attempt to pursue him to wherever he fled to. The least we need right now is for one or more of us to die in pursuit." Arathea held her voice firm, but cracks were present, her mind distracted in internal monologue, I can't hold their deaths on my shoulder too.

Shock, horror, anger, none of these words could even begin to describe the total loss that Arathea just felt. Her whole body felt weightless, her whole world went into a blur, she failed to register anything around her. She sat upon her knees totally paralyzed, she was numb, her universe had been shattered and destroyed. Her entire life it seemed had been spent with this weapon, this was her entire world, her entire purpose. Never again could she touch this blade, never again could she feel it in her hand and march take it to battle, never again could she claim a perfect record. She couldn't stop the thoughts that came next, eating and biting at her, keeping her immobile on the ground. FAILURE FAILURE FAILURE FAILURE FAILURE over and over again, a mantra that repeated in her head driving her almost to tears. She was a prodigy, a hero, she was untouachable, and now? Now she felt like she was nothing.

She had to keep fighting, she had to get up and keep going but this was unlike any wound she faced before. This was like her very should had been cut in half and covered in mud, like her life was now devoid of any meaning. When she got to her feet she could barely keep herself together, she cried out in a voice filled with pain and grief for anyone to hear. "I need a sword... I need something to fight with." She almost laughed at herself for her words, why fight? Death was just around the corner, she didn't deserve to live in her eyes anymore. What point was there? She failed her father, she failed her order, she failed her country and she failed herself. She was almost ready to simply resign herself and let the owlbears tear her apart, but something in her managed to push her to at least attempt to keep going.

Arathea stood on her unsteady feet, feeling her physical wounds cause her entire body to agonize alongside her mind and soul. At least I'll die fighting, so I won't be a total disappointment? Right..? She thought to herself as she prepared to face her impending doom, there was no purpose in optimism anymore. Breathing in heavily she hoped and prayed for Isilmewen to bring at least something to fight with, remembering the ranger had a longsword of her own. The weapon would be practically dirt but, it would at least be something. 

"Isilmewen! Bring me your sword!" Arathea called out again, feeling a wetness on her cheeks. This wasn't sweat they were... tears, she was actually crying. She couldn't remember the last time she had truly cried, the last time she had shown such utter weakness. She felt like a little girl all alone and helpless, her confidence and pride totally drained. Seleniniels words to not fall apart, to keep going offered little in the way of a boost of confidence. Arathea appreciated the gesture, but this defeat was beyond simple words to fix.

The winds of battle were blowing hard, Arathea swung her blade in ancient practiced motions again and again at her enemies, at these fungal monsters summoned by the vile witch. They were disgusting, they were horrific, and she realized how truly dangerous they were when she felt ill upon being struck by one. These weren't like anything she'd yet faced, but that did not matter. This man was a threat to the people of the region clearly, he had to be stopped or she would be betraying her duty to her people and her oath to protect them. She moved her sword like a painter with a paintbrush and bringing down what stood in her way.

But fungal freaks were not the only threat, and soon Arathea found herself in combat with insects raised to monsterous proportions. She moved her blade with the grace and elegance of an artist but that did not stop her from bbeing struck, and the sensation was some of the most horrific she had ever felt. She had experienced quite a few kinds of pain in her service to her country, but this was one of the worst. A simple beesting is managable when the stinger is just an inch long, but these were the size of weapons, like a sword covered in venom. 

It was taking all of her strength to keep fighting, to hold on and push forward. To fight the final fungal beast in front of her and to continue warding off the wasps, but there was no rest in sight. The wretch who controlled all these horrors brought forward another threat, even more owlbears. To say she was sick of owlbears would be the greatest understatement of the current age of Audalis, and it truly sunk in that by the looks of things she was about to die. Yet still she pressed forward, seeing Seleniniel coming to her aid providing some hope, she still had allies after all and very competent allies at that. She pressed forward to attempt at taking down the final wasp so that all focus could be placed on the owlbears, praying to Merca to help grant victory. She gave a thankful look to Seleniniel, immensely grateful for the help before swinging her sword.

Arathea analyzed with calm dediaction as the man in front of her continued, the words, the insults he let out were of the type to instill anger. But she was better than that, instead she remained calm as she the "priest" in front of her gave his speech. She analyzed the surroundings, envisioning in her mind placements for Dak, Isilmewen, and all ther other companions she had with her. However it came to be that this was no normal speech, not even the common ravings you would expect from a mad man. Arathea saw the hands rise from the ground, rotting and clearly dead, then she saw the bodies they belonged to. She had never seen the undead before, never seen such monsters against all creation, let alone any that carried fungi on them. The sight was sickening, their rotting flesh and lifeless eyes, and the scent they carried made the smell of the man who raised them seem like sweet perfume in comparison.

Arathea seeked to be strategic about this, to give time for those capable of ranged combat to hopefully find flanking positions and provide support. Taking any time to form more complex strategy however was not an option, Ruadhrí had made sure of that. The display of rage frustrated Arathea almost as much as the slander of the "priest" did, the absolute lack of consideration for anything greater than his own rage made Arathea want to pull her hair out. Now was not the time for her to get lost in her own rage still, and no matter how frustrated she was with her ally she had to remain focused on preparing for battle herself. She signaled Dak and Isilmewen to move into position to provide cover fire before calling out. "Clerics,Seleniniel, I trust you three to do your thing! I'd advise focusing the living threat rather than his undead allies."

She now focused herself, beggining to sing while her hand went down to grip at her blade. As the world started to slow she began to charge forward, seeking to hopefully cut through the undead and reach their master. She believed that, while he had the sense of the owlbears fought just recently, Ruadhrí would still deal a spectacular amount of damage to these enemies. Keeping steady Arathea thrusted her blade forward, hoping that this could end with haste. These monsters were the most disturbing things she'd ever had to face before, they were absolutely putrid and the term 'beast' would seem like an honor to them. Arathea had heard stories of undead monsters from other companions in her time, but nothing could have prepared her for the horrors she now faced. No matter what still, she now had a duty to put them down, and to stop this vile witch who raised them.

Arathea felt immense unease following the trail, this was clearly not aboding well. A man does not simply walk amongst monsters yet all evidence pointed to that having been exactly what had happened not so long ago, and now with the raven? Something was incredibly wrong. The forests felt more oppressive, Arathea constantly scanned for watching eyes or signs of another beast, her hand rested upon her blade, ready for battle at any moment. Yet it seemed nothing bad came... yet.

The man that appeared was frankly a disgrace to sylvari elegance and pride in Arathea's eyes, the term 'witch' quickly came to mind. His unkept nature and wild eyes showed him as more of an animal than a child of the stars, and Arathea understood that Adorans followers were not as clean as the nobility but... this man was clearly no normal priest. Arathea stood at the ready for any sudden moves, but despite her disgust she understood that negotiation remained the best option, battle with a man who seemed to be able to tame monsters could become extremely costly.

"We come not to despoil this place your grace, we are merely passing through. We are on important business in service of the nation, we got side tracked after we fell under attack." Arathea carefully considered her next actions, aggression could cause battle which could be devestating, yet the freedom of this man could be a danger to any civilian that wanders these woods. "We encountered a beast, an owlbear. We do not intend to taint this grove but as a servant of the people I cannot allow such... things to cause anymore harm."

She analyzed the man, he did not seem dangerous but knowing even her own current companions showed that magic does not require the body of a warrior to be an incredibly powerful force. As far as Arathea knew this man could summon beasts and raise walls of thorns, and so she kept great caution. "I am sure you understand your grace, such creatures are also threats to natural life as well." From this point she was ready to charge this man down and simply try to cut him down before he could cause too much harm, in the case of combat she came to the conclusion that the longer the witch lives the more of a threat he could become. If he proved that he was indeed a danger her goal was to cut him down and stop him before he recieves the chance to properly respond.

Arathea watched the tracks with great curiosity, now she was no expert in owlbear behavior and she did not ever intend to be, but she understand owlbears and people were not great working partners. The tracks showed a man walking side by side with these animals which had shown themselves to be incredibly aggressive, Arathea decided the most likely conclusionwas that the beast master was clearly an incredibly threatening force but decided to let it rest until there was more evidence, no point in overanalyzing footprints. Arathea kept her head cool until camp was reached.

Once it was decided upon to settle down fire was set up Arathea elected to spend her time running over The Eighty Nine Steps, at least until she was rudely inturrupted. The raven was not easy to ignore, it was a curious sight and she saw how it consumed the whole parties attention. The Bofir brought up the possibility of a Sendrian spy, which Arathea believed to be an interesting yet fairly unlikely theory

She nodded at Seleniels statement, "I suppose there is wisdom in letting the boy scout ahead in this case, as long as he doesn't stray too far and stays out of trouble." She looked down at the halfling, letting her hand down to pat his head. "Try not to die, alright? It would be a tragic affair finding someone to replace you, plus you're stature makes you a wonderful thing to rest my arm rest." She chuckled and turned her attention elsewhere, specifically to Mae'rel and her question.

"Well if you like making company out of monsters that seem to want to eat anything that moves I predict that whoever is their friend probably is not very pleasant." Her mind drifted back to the battle, another near death experience to add to her own story. "They're almost certainly malicious, which means I have a duty to stop them. Though I take it we all agree on that."

I had a post ready but it got deleted my bad my bad, pinky promise with a cherry on top a mountain of whip cream that a post will be out tomorrow!

Arathea chuckled at Rosariel's response, offering a flap of her hand and a false scoff. "Oh the clergy, tsk tsk." But outside of teasing and playful banter, Arathea saw the struggle with Ruadhri, she saw the bofear break and cry out and agonize. She saw Rosariel and Seleniniel struggle with him, work with to try to calm his mind. Arathea had some experience with soldiers left in shock by the effects of battle, on one mission hunting enemies of the crown she spoke with other... less prepared forces who were recovering from an ambush. When she camped with them she heard men waking up in the middle of the night to scream and cry, only to realize they had simply had a nightmare. "A beastly rage or something more complicated, either way it will strike terror into our foes. But if it's not only foes he targets..." Arathea's thoughts trailed off as she pondered her partners afflication.


Arathea's trail of thought was broken by the lady in the mask, the one who had been oh so quiet. She smiled at Mae'rel, offering a respectful nod before beggining what she knew would be a long speech, she always was excited whenever the history of her order was brought up. "Well darling my order is ancient, it goes back generation after generation. We Megilindar are keepers Yaara'menie, ancient traditions that others in our great nation have forgotten. We have served Sylvaria and it's crown throughout her great struggles, during the great war against the human kingdoms we didn't just desperately hold onto territory. We always took the fight to our enemies, we always charged in for the glory of our people, we always made the greatest sacrifices so Sylvaria could live in peace. We are not just soldiers, we are the right hand of Her Majesty, we protect her honour and enact her will."  Arathea paused, thinking of her home Sillarion, envisioning the grand palaces and ancient constructions. "As for the traditions? The song puts us in a trance, we go into a deep focus. Time slows and we get the space to calculate our every move, it's a form of magic itself really, and it takes us decades to master. We don't use brute force, we practice a series of steps in combat that to you may look like a dance, but I assure you it is very lethal. We don't allow our blades to touch the ground due to the fact it dishonours them, they are ancient and they must be protected, no exceptions. The traditions must be upheld, there are no exceptions about it."

Her voice held strong conviction as she spoke and explained her order, this was her entire life, her reason to exist. Being a Bladesinger was all Arathea knew, and it's ancient traditions and rules mattered more to her than almost anything else in her life. "I show this path because my father serves the nation, today he is a prestigious and famed erestor. If in your short time in the empire you've heard people complaining of 'flacid pacifists' and other such things, he is one of the leaders of that force in politics. But before he became a politician he served in our military, when I was a little girl he told stories of how the Bladesingers were the greatest soldiers in all Sylvaria. The tales captivated me, I made the decision to attempt join the order, and in the greatest blessing of my existence they decided to train me. I learned almost everything I know during that training, history, art, diplomacy, and of course the way to properly wage warfare." By the time Arathea had finished there was something sentimental in her eyes, something deeper than just talks of history or warfare. Her lips were in a soft, content smile. "What brought you to the Blue Lady if I may ask darling? You must share a devotion close in depth to my own, I am curious of your story."


Outside of personal business there was an urgent manner to attend to, outside the sting of death and few valuables in this cave there were footprints, Sylvari footprints. Upon hearing of them and taking a moment to examine them Arathea sighed, this was not over yet. "What was it said about mad mages yesterday?" She turned her attention to the wizard within their own party, placing a hand on her shoulder to catch her attention. "Seleniniel, do you know anything of the magic or power required to creat these walking atrocities?"

Arathea moved with percision, preforming combat moves like a dancer would preform their art. Her blade swung through the air as she sung her song, it was almost entrancing, which didn't exactly come to her advantage. She felt not only the horrific grasps and attacks of the monster in front of her, but also the arrow from her ally cutting through her skin and wounding her. She didn't linger on it in the heat of battle however, especially as the beast in front of her grasped her and held her in a way where she had no ability to move. Arathea however would not let her song end in such a uninspiring way without some struggle, she kicked and she pushed, though to no avail. She took special care to not let her blade fall, even as she felt the light starting to drain from her eyes, she could not bring shame upon her weapon as long as she drew breath.

When the dust settled and the creatures were finally defeated Arathea took a moment to breathe, grateful for her companions prescence, even if their aim was not always spot on. She smiled at Mae'rel grateully as the modest cleric called upon her Goddess, feeling part of the burning pain in her body being relieved. "Thank you darling, I thought that might have been where my story ended admittedly." Arathea then turned her attention out to other affairs, watching in a mix of awe and anxiety as Ruadri continued to on gutting and goring the beasts. The worry that he may become more of a burden than an asset grew, though she understood she was no healer, let alone for trauma of the mind.

Arathea then turned her attention to the laughing ranger, at first thinking of questioning the joyous attitude but she decided to take it as a blessing that she took a more lighthearted approach to the situation, preferring that over the threat of getting crushed by a hammer. She bowed her head at the apology, appreciating the gesture. "No need to apologize my lady, I understand that percision can be lost in the heat of battle. I'm still here and you did make up for it by putting a stop to that creature before it well... gave me a rather inglorius ending." Arathea turned to look out at the carnage now, letting out a soft sigh as she did, at least it was over now. "I'm truly glad this is delt with now, I'd say we gather up and exit this wretched place before the smell makes me lose my innards anyways."

Arathea moved over to Rosarieal, placing her hand gently on the clerics shoulder before speaking. "I hope you're holding up well after this whole affair, you're aid is truly appreciated." Arathea chuckled a little before continuing, "It's good that you're not as awkward navigating battle as you are navigating conversation." Arathea let go of the clerics shoulder, with a friendly nudge. "I tease, I tease."

Arathea observed the awkward interaction between Rosariel and Seleniniel, though awkward may not have been the best description. She supposed hostile was a better way to put it, especially looking at how Seleniniel reacted. Her opinion of the mage was... cold by this point, internally Arathea had come to the conclusion that this was a bitter and harsh woman for whatever reason that may be, and her company was the least desirable of the group. That said she knew she'd still have to travel with her, and so she decided to raise her hopes that perhaps the mage would lighten up as time went on, though she didn't count on it.

Rosariel was perceived as rather endearing, though perhaps not taken fully seriously, especially after the interaction. Of course Arathea knew well the clerics ability in combat, she simply saw her as something sort of like a little sister that needed protecting. Though Rosariel was actually Arathea's senior, the attitude remained, and Arathea resolved herself to try to help keep the awkward cleric out of trouble with the others from here on out.

***

As the party entered the cave Arathea kept a close eye on Dak, not seeking to deal with any shenanigans from the cid. Though she kept her main attention on the cave around her, watching out for any threats or dangers as her ancient blade glowed brightly. As they wandered from the open cave and walked through it's horrible odor Arathea stayed alert and at the ready, just waiting for a threat to show itself. 

When the three beasts came forward into the light instinct quickly took over, the singing begun and Arathea readied herself. As the world around her slowed Arathea calculated her actions, her eyes seemed to glow as she charged foreword, expecting Dak and Rainminainen to provide supporting fire. The beautiful melody of the song echoed around the walls of the cave as Arathea prepared to do the 'Crashing Wind' movement, one of the eighty-nine steps involving lunging your blade forward. The scene was almost serene if it weren't for the cried of the monsters drowning out the song she sung. 

(Doing the whole super bladesong here, I dunno what to call it properly.)

Saw the web being sent by the mage and it was a reminder that, though she was a killjoy, she was a very powerful killjoy. The Bofír well... he was clearly in his own world right now and Arathea could work with that, strategically it was useful as a distraction to the beasts at least. Though when the dust settled she thought maybe a respectful conversation making sure Ruadhri could handle his emotions out of combat would be beneficial. Either way focus right now was on dealing with these freaks in front her, not therapy for her compatriot.

Did the Bofír have a... psychotic episode???

On another note I'm posting tonight!