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!

I am moving to Nepal where I intend to live the rest of my days as a goat, if you need me I will be eating a shoe.

AUTOCORRECT HELP ME

Arathea looked out at the cave in front of her with a sigh, it was perplexing but more than that it was frustrating. One of these things was able to be handled with relative ease, but multiple? That's where the issue would lie, without proper strategy even this rather formidable group would be turned into bear lunch faster than they could blink.

"I'd advise we advance as a group with caution, if we split we can be easily picked off." Arathea explained, giving her own strategic view on the matter. "You clerics can make light yes? Torches can suffice if necessary but I feel if there's something better we should use it, it would be... not very advantageous to see a monster only when it's right in your face."

Arathea examined the tracks once more, she had faces many enemies and remained confident that this group could handle the threats in this cave, but intelligence would be required. She believed any splitting up would be a massive blunder, everything she knew about these monsters was that they were formidable and intimidating. 

"And halfling, I understand you like to go off on your own little adventures in these affairs but this is not one of those times. Even the most quiet thief or fiercest warrior can be torn apart in seconds without allies." Arathea's tone was serious, the normal lighthearted sparkle it had was gone. She seemed more like a soldier relaying a command, talking as if what she was saying could not be disputed.

Owlbear seeing two people walking in thinking "Yay the pizza is here!"

In a battle trance Arathea pushed on with ease, striking at the beast in front of them with precision and extreme focus. Finally with one final strike the monster fell to the ground, and the wordless song ceased. Arathea felt herself returning to normal slowly and perceiving the world outside of battle. The once seemingly terrifying monster was brought down in what seemed like mere moments; Arathea checked for any real injuries and counted herself lucky, she had only been scratched.

"Bladesinger are you well?" Oh she's growing fond of saying that... I suppose it's fully appropriate in the context at least, Arathea thought as she she heard Rosariel speak. "I mean were you injured?"

Arathea gave a gentle smile to Rosariel before responding, "Yes darling I feel wonderful, I was only scratched." She prepared to say more after Rosariel's reply but instead she watched the huntress lose focus and put her attention elsewhere, specifically at Ruadhri. Arathea shook her head before calling out with Rosariel at the bull, "The monster is dead! There's no need for that dear-" She paused, there was clearly no breaking him out of his spur it seemed.

Arathea turned her attention elsewhere, noticing the bickering of the Seleniniel and Dak, which prompted a sigh. She saw more than bickering however, she analyzed the party strategically, noting visible strengths and weaknesses, pondering how best to use them. "The spell was magnificent Seleniniel, it made all of our lives much more pleasant I believe." 

The taur'ohtar broke more discussion from happening, showing his expertise on these beasts. It is most useful having him with us. She pondered for a moment longer before speaking up, "Very well, let us see if there are any more threats in the area. I would advise to us all that we stay extremely prepared for another battle, but I would assume we all know that."

She turned her attention to Ruadhri yet again, hoping the bull had calmed himself down. "You were rather impressive darling, I knew you would be capable but you are far more than just that, I believe that you may be one of the most fierce warriors I've met, though you lack... elegance." She reached up to pat Ruadhri's shoulder, feeling the fur through her glove. The man truly was impressive, a total sight to behold upon in battle, even if his way of combat was the polar opposite of Arathea's own.

Oh and I adored the Sel post!

Woah your mom is such a cruel cruel woman, what a poor poor little girl you are.  

I'll make sure to bake you cookies at some point you poor little princess.

W on the spoiling the girlfriend. 

I get free cookies and you don't, hehehehe >:3

Take that, I get the cool finishing the monster off scene  

Ima go feral if the game doesn't progress soon, grrrr (I'm not being serious)

My post is out! I've been tired but I hope it's good still, praying that I didn't say anything dumb while my brain is fried 

Dak you're a big time weirdo! I can't tell if it's endearing or makes me want to throttle him (the answer to this question is probably a simple yes.)

The journey had been enjoyable for Arathea, she found the serenity of the woods around her to be delightful. She also found the company to be enjoyable in spite of the oddities of the group, she found something endearing in all of their quirks. Admittedly it seemed she was surrounded by an entire group ranging from socially anxious to just anti-social, but there was at least some level of conversation to be had, and to Arathea it was enjoyable. Though she immediately came to the realization that the Cidal had clearly lacked an understanding of basic manners, which brought a constant stream of sighs and second hand embarrassment whenever Arathea observed his antics.

The warrior had to consider more than how enjoyable the groups company was however, she also had to calculate their role in combat, negotiations, and so on. Their personalities and unique skills offered their own perks and cons, and Arathea knew that Tansathil has almost certainly considered all of this and picked the best of the best. Still, Arathea did not have the knowledge of Tansathil, and she realized she would have to get to know them much better if she were to take the lead.

 There will be plenty time to analyze this band of misfits and wanderers I'm sure, I take it Dak and Rosariel are the most friendly, though Dak seems to be much more private in his dealings than the others. The monk with the mask seems to be a good soul at the very least, and I'm sure she can prove herself more than useful, Tansathil wouldn't send a mere village nurse to aid us I'm sure. 

As she pondered strategy and the like Arathea felt some excitement about Hyanda Nost, it was a location she'd seen more than once but it always did impress her, though Megilindar Nost always did put her in more awe. She followed behind the taur'ohtar and in front of the rest of the grouping, always ready to rapidly respond and charge at any threat at any time. Then a noise came, she heard Rosariel shout out, "Owlbear!' And the tails rushed into Arathea's mind, though she'd never engaged with one she knew well the danger posed.

Quickly her mind thought strategically, she saw the wizard preparing a spell and remembered this group was experienced, she didn't have to hold their hand on every little task, they could handle themselves for the most part. She signaled to the Bofír warrior behind her to join her charge and called out for the taur'ohtar to support them. This will be over soon, you may be a formidable monster but we've been preparing since before you hatched... or we're birthed, I'm not quite familiar with how you freakish beasts work.

Quickly a new sound broke through the forest, the sound of a song that predated the rise of modern kingdoms, a song that sounded almost alien to most ears. Arathea quickly pulled out her blade as the world around her began to slow, her focus reaching every fine detail as the sound of the blade freeing from it's sheave broke through. She noticed Rosariel reaching out to touch her prestigious leather armor, but Arathea's focus remained elsewhere. She quickly calculated in her mind what seemed like the straightest and most advantageous path and began to charge, hoping that her and the Bofír could keep the beast busy while the taur'ohtar and the spell-casters provided magical and ranged support.