(As promised, last 3 posts carried over. Also, if anyone is interested in playing... the story is still open. so just drop anyone of us a note.)

Minshara:

"Papilonn mentioned it was a wedding present..." the sentenced trailed off as Minshara tucked the weapon back into the folds of her sleeves, her fingers stroked it gently before she put it away. "I can't imagine being married. My parents will be fine. I'll write to them once I get to Narim. Anyway..." her eyes caught something moving in the dark.

Two tall and broad figures had entered the lower deck. They were hooded of course, and being the last to enter; they sat down at the bottom of the stairs, near the entrance. Words were exchanged for a moment in voices Min couldn't hear. Instead, she kept watching, glad that Myrnal had chosen the darkest part of the deck to hide them both. "Myrnal... look!"

The men drew their hoods free from their faces. The shorter but broader figure had long dark hair up to his shoulders and rather mellowed skin, his eyes were obsidian and seemed to scan the deck as if it was his second nature to do so. Leather armour covered his frame, and underneath those, Minshara knew that there was a myriad of weapons besides the ones she could see. The second figure was taller, and seemed the complete opposite to the first. He wasn't as broad across but he was no less imposing. There was something familiar about the way he cocked his head to one side as he listened to the other speak.

The ship moved across the inky dark sea, causing the cracked moonlight to slip it from a variety of angles. If only for the briefest moment, two brilliant gray eyes flashed in the darkness, as did the platinum hair and... the twin swords on the man's back. And of course, the ears. Min knew that details on their own meant nothing. It was the amount of coincidence and the context that made something like this mattered. She knew who the half-elf was. She had helped him.

"I don't need to tell you that I think those are the two..." she whispered softly, shrouded safely in the black shadows and well out of hearing range. "But I think they were staying at the Jade Dragon the whole time my parents were there. I don't recognize the first man... but the half-elf, I've seen quite a bit of him around the tavern and once, at the temple."


Myrnal:

Myrnal glanced up from the corner. She sat back, bending one knee and leaning against the back wall as she inspected their fellow passengers. She sighed, and tipped her head until her neck cracked. "Well," she said, resting her wounded right arm over her lap. "Okay. Duly noted."

She watched them a bit. An elf or half elf or quarter elf or some other proportion of pointy-eared folk with a couple of nice blades. Probably a dual-wielder like herself. Another guy who looked suitably dark and mysterious, and certainly shifty enough to be worth watching out for. She looked from them to the physician at her side. If something happened, Myrnal had better be prepared to compensate for her injuries. She couldn't expect Minshara to fend them off herself.

The ninja looked back to the men. She addressed Minshara in a low voice, as for whatever reason whispers in the dark attracted more attention than they averted. They immediately sounded suspicious, at least to Myrnal. "I can keep an eye on them if you're worried. I can watch your back if you'll watch mine."

She looked down to the knives at her belt, the portion of her collection she wore openly for convenience's sake. She stood, pressing one fist against the wall to brace herself, but the sudden rush of blood to her body left her dizzy and her vision darkened momentarily. She blinked a few times and took a step back against the wall. Pressing her hand to her forehead she sat back down where she had been.

Myrnal noted with some anxiety that she must have lost a lot more blood than she'd originally estimated. No reason to bother Minshara with it. If the healer hadn't already noted it, Myrnal saw no reason why she ought to be bothered with it.

Whatever. It's probably not even blood loss. I can't have been hurt that badly. I mean, I'm still walking, so I'm probably still coming out ahead. I bet it's just fatigue. I'm dead f$%#ing tired. That's probably all it is. I just... need to sit down maybe. Or lie down. Or be unconscious for a while. That sounds good. Maybe that should be the plan.

She kept her voice low, and turned her head to face Minshara to make sure that she had the healer's attention. "I haven't gotten much sleep these last few days because it would have left you on your own. So, uh... if you aren't violently opposed or anything, I think I'm going to try and pass out for a while. Wake me up if I need to yell at someone or you need anything stabbed, cut, lacerated or otherwise injured with knives. Deal? .....Thanks." She didn't stop to hear Minshara's reply. She leaned back against the planks in the wall and closed her eyes.


Altair:

Altair contemplated Demetri’s simple question as they boarded the ship. He knew that the half elf was attempted some form of conversation and he felt a tinge of guilt considering how he had been so quick to answer and dismiss several of his other questions in favor of silence. He felt uncomfortable talking to someone this personally and it has been a long time since he’s actually had something close to a friend.

As the ship set sail, the strong wood creaked and moved across the calm waters, Altair leaned over the bow and gazed out into the sea. They were in full view of everyone now, an unwise situation but being in a public place, they had nothing to worry if danger followed them here. If needed, he knew they could disappear with ease.

Taking the water pouch from his belt hidden under his long leather coat, Altair took a few desired gulps, then offered it to Demetri, as a gesture of friendship.

“From what I remember, I’ve been in Míriel all my life. I grew up there, with my mother. We lived on the streets, she and I, but we were happy,”

They passed a small island, remote and desolate in the middle of the sea. In his heart, he felt that he was that island. A man whom stood alone against the weather with no one to lean on, but not a complain escaped his lips.

His solitude gave him strength and focus and those were essential to him.

Turning to face Demetri, Altair said, “But happiness as we know it, does not last very long,”

A small silence between them, one that didn’t seem awkward, but instead, came with the reassuring acknowledgment of that bittersweet sentiment.

“What of yourself then? Where is it you hail from?”

Might as well go with the flow.

The ship was in a public place, and after scanning it once, he noticed something strange. The woman he had known as Lyra was on board, with another woman. The woman with Lyra was armed, just judging by her posture, and wounded. The connections and coincidences were becoming all too more strange.

Demetri took the water pouch, nodding as he did so. Taking a small sip from it, he handed it back to Altair, and listened to Altair describe his life. “From what I remember, I’ve been in Míriel all my life. I grew up there, with my mother. We lived on the streets, she and I, but we were happy,”

Watching, he noticed that Altair was paying attention to a tiny little island. Altair's face changed, and for a brief moment, Demetri caught a glimpse of sadness behind the mask that Altair wore. No wonder Altair was able to know his way around Miriel, as he had shown before. Demetri and Altair were more connected now, it seemed. They both never knew their fathers.

Turning to face Demetri, Altair said, “But happiness as we know it, does not last very long,” Demetri nodded in agreement and looked away from the fast passing island. Happiness was as slippery to hold onto and once you got it, you had to hold onto it tightly. “What of yourself then? Where is it you hail from?”

"I come Dorne. A small city outside of Elenion. I never knew my father, and my mother supported us by owning a small potions shop of sorts. Although, for a while I did live in Elenion." Remembering that fateful day, when his mother had come to visit, and their life of running had begun."But after Elenion. Everything fell apart."

"The two women over there. I've seen one of them already. Her name is Lyra. She is supposedly a servant of Daidlin. The other one is less innocent. Judging by her mannerisms, she is armed and wounded." He didn't bring it up to Altair for small talk. Only to advice caution to Altair that the coincidences of running into the same person over and over was nearly impossible.

He had spent years around people who were armed and deadly. Of course, he had remained observant and picked up their patterns soon enough. This particular woman was stealthy and the reason her weapons were small enough to conceal. She was either an assassin or bodyguard for the servant of Daidlin. Why would a servant of Daidlin need a bodyguard. And why would a servant of Daidlin be going to Narim?

The sailors had been busy lately... that is to say, they had stopped harassing the female passengers of the ship. It only meant one thing, of course - After 2 terrible days of sea voyage, the ship had finally reached Narim. Min threw a glance to the still resting Myrnal and decided to allow the girl a few more hours of rest. To be honest, she needed the fresh air that the lower deck had run out of hours ago. She had not expected the journey to be comfortable but it was much much worse than she expected.

Minshara Kohl was not made for sea travel.

Muffled thought surrounded her, emanating from the worries and fears of the people on board. She heard nothing from Myrnal and the sailors, thankful that these people were calm and adjusted to their 'buoyant' surroundings. To worsen things, her migraines had tripled in frequency and intensity. And she kept dreaming of the same three children over and over again, never remembering their names.

The sway of the ocean still unnerved her and Minshara's heartbeat had not yet ceased its hastened rhythm, but instead kept faithfully at it. Each second that passed was a syllable in the never-ending mental recitation of the mantra that gave her comfort balanced against the nearly overwhelming feeling of her chest nearly imploding with anxiety.

She was perspiring, she could feel it. The slight trickle of sweat from one temple swept along the slope of her jaw as she carefully wiped it off. She leaned her head against the wall and took another deep breath, before choking. At the corner of her eye, she saw the flask of wine in her trunk. There was a moment of temptation to drink the sweet rum but it would be stupid to dehydrate herself further.

I have no parents; I make the Heavens and the Earth my parents.
I have no home; I make the world my home.

There was a sudden surge as a rogue wave hit the merchant ship, and Min felt the full effects of her stomach churning as her mind reeled, fearing that the ship might overturn at the next one.

"Need anything?" Bardan asked, popping out of nowhere. Throughout the journey, he had been rather helpful even if it was out of self-preservation.

Min nodded. "I might need a bucket," a hoarse whisper escaped. I have neither life nor death; I make the Way my Life and Death.

He shook his head. "You need fresh air," he wrung his hands. "Look, miss... You paid Hirst and I don't mess around with the customers that pay... er... so there really is no harm in going to the top deck for some wind... and if you need to hurl...Come now,"

I have no tactics; I make Emptiness and Fullness my Tactics. She would have refused had not a second strong wave drowned her resolve. She threw a last minute questioning look at Bardan.

"It's safe," he repeated himself, not knowing what else to say.

Min got up, "Sorry, Myrnal but better the sea than you..." and ran staggering toward the staircase as she reached the upper deck. Bending over the side, she wretched and closed her eyes as her stomach emptied itself of its contents. Finished, her knees crumpled as she sank onto the floor. Min wiped her the corners of her mouth with a smudged sleeve, the nausea not yet leaving her. She sat still for a few moments, giving advance thanks for numerous things.

"I have no castle; I make Immovable Mind my Castle," the words of Nijon came out in a whisper, nearing the end of the oft-recited verses.

Yes, she would be grateful for the dreams of the children to stop. They had said their names but the memory evaporated once she awoke from her naps, and all that was left was the sure feeling in her fingers that something had slipped through the cracks. She would be grateful for the many muffled thoughts that she heard from people, pounding on the door of her mind, almost screaming, would finally stop as they left the ship.

And most of all, she would be grateful for land, where she could plant her feet on a concrete substance and not be flung like a ragdoll from one wall onto another.

Kneeling, she steadied herself and clung to the ship, casting her net-like gaze toward the distant shore as she pulled herself to stand up fully. Small, dim lights flickered as she narrowed her eyes to focus. The fairy lights marked the cove. Despite her shaken constitution, Minshara took note that Narim was unlike what she had envisioned. While she had imagined a rather defiant-looking place, this one seemed to skulk around the fringes of the shore, as if afraid that someone was going to rob all that it had.

She winced as the sea gave the ship one last push that sent her petite frame smashing against the other side of the deck. Cursing and easing her shoulder, she made it back to the staircase leading to the lower deck.

"Fold the sails!" the captain shouted as his crew scrambled to ready the ship for her destination, the long lonely walk to the mist-covered port town already coming into detailed view.

The pigeon landed, as most of its kind did, rather gently upon the windowsill. Only the ruffle of feathers and wings accompanied by the soft cooing made it known to the resident of the room that it had arrived.

The man looked up from his tea. He had not ventured out often, preferring the scenery provided by the four walls instead of the foreign 'pleasures' that lay outside. He did walk about once when he first arrived, making the walk count by taking a careful note of the hidden shadows and rooftops. It had been years since Nijon made contact with the rest of Endar but any Nijonese knew that it was out necessity rather than a liking. Even the air smelled foul and chaotic, permeating every single person that lived outside his homeland, tainting them. He would be glad once he had the chance to return home.

Cocking its head to one side, the bird cooed once more. It was nothing of course, still it seemed like it was waiting for something. The man walked over, his steps silent and steady. Holding out one hand containing some grain, he fed the creature and untied the message that was tied to its leg.

"There has been no word from Tarsis. A woodsman has felled the trees." was the single message, written in the neat handwriting he had come to recognize. He looked to the cage that hung over the otherside of the room. No, this message was an order and did not require a reply. He would send word once it was accomplished.

The man could smile. A message from the lord himself. It was the greatest honour he could have at this moment, worth more than twice the discomfort he had to endure in this place. The same silent and steady steps moved toward the cupboard. Taking out the dark blue suit of clothes, he closed his eyes readying himself for the challenge. The Lady's guard had taken out two of his comrades, even though he had always thought that this task was never meant for one of the bushi. They were too proud to stalk the shadows. Already, he knew that it was their pride that probably got them killed.

His kind were different. They knew the risks and sacrifices had to be made in order for their master to be raised. They owed it to him. Why it was so, didn't matter but complete and utter loyalty, that was what defined their craft, despite what others would say. It would be a great victory if he managed to defeat this guardsman, and the Lady herself if it came to it. It would be a swift death, befitting her station.

There was a soft knock on the door, and another pair of similar silent footsteps walked through. "Has there been any word, Taro-san?" he had asked this question everyday and it gladdened the addressee that he had a different reply.

"Yes," the words came almost in quiet reverence, "From our lord himself. The Lady might be on her way here, with a guard of her own."

The younger man in the doorway nodded, pleased. "I will inform the rest."

"Do not do anything until I return from ensuring that she is indeed here,"

His subordinate bowed once more, saying he would simply ask the rest to prepare their weapons so they would be ready when needed.


The physician only lifted her hand, waving the concern away. She would be fine once she got over the blasted ship, it had completely messed up her bodily systems - almost making her regret undertaking such a voyage. Allowing her guardian to help her, Min felt her breathing get a little easier as she continued to clutch unconsciously at her kaiken. "Just get me to an inn," the words tumbled out softly.

"The Shackled Dreams is a just a walk in that direction if you want to get her cleaned up and ready for the carriage. It won't be here at least for another 3 marks at least," suggested a nearby sailor. Bardan the multi-purpose thug made himself useful by offering to help her with the trunk but Min declined. She had caused the man much trouble already, she figured, even if he did deserve it.

Min looked about for the two men and then gave up. If Myrnal didn't seem bothered, then there was no reason that she should be either. The Gods forbid that Myrnal was the only one allowed to walk around with an arsenal.

Myrnal nodded to the sailor and walked Minshara back to where they'd been keeping their belongings. "I think he's right. We need to get cleaned up and presentable for the city of murderers and thieves. Or something."

Myrnal knelt down in front of Minshara and rummaged in her backpack. She pulled out some non-descript tan slacks and a tan tunic to go with them. She looked up at her travelling companion. "Okay, here's the thing. Unless you want to walk around in a lot of goofy Nijonese clothing and attract attention, I suggest maybe you borrow something of mine."

She swept her hand through the air over the clothes. "These are my--" she made fingerquotes in the air, '--off duty clothes." She picked them up in one hand and stood, handing them to Minshara. "As a result, I won't be needing them for a while. Just the goofy ninja s#&^ you've seen me in so far."

"In fact.... Before we get off the boat, I think that we're going to attract attention in Narim by virtue of being two women alone, which sucks no matter how it turns out." She scanned Minshara with a quick appraising glance, one of few Myrnal had allowed herself during the trip. "You look too girly to really pass. But as long as I put my hair away I could pass. Done it before." She scoffed to herself. "Sometimes I don't feel like being harassed by jackasses who think that just because I've got an appropriate orifice they've got a right to put things in it."

Eh... I shouldn't steal anything here. Not on a boat where other people are effectively in charge of me. Better idea.

Myrnal gave an elderly passenger a few gold pieces for the grey wool hat he was wearing. His wife started to smack him on the arm for selling it until she saw how much Myrnal had paid for it. Rather than express enthusiasm for the small miracle of a small profit, she scrupulously pretended not to notice anything had occurred at all. Better to do that than to admit that her husband's idea had been the correct one.

The ninja got back to Minshara and nodded decisively. "Well, Lyra. Here's the deal. We can spend however much time here we need to so that you can get whatever-the-hell-stuff done. Oh, and I don't know where you were planning to stay, but I'd feel oodles and oodles better than I do now if I tagged along and--" Myrnal cleared her throat, in a rare show of self-consciousness from the foul-mouthed ninja. "--Well, it's uh... probably better if we're in the same room. Are you covered as far as expenses and things?"

As Minshara approached Myrnal tilted her head and frowned, wondering what the hell Minshara was so anxious about. "It's... it's fine. You... smell fine, Lyra. We can board whenever you need to. I've spread enough bribes around that I'm more or less covered, and I haven't pissed off one person today." She smirked and laid a hand on the brim of her hat in a brief cordial bow. "Thank the gods for small miracles."

She turned away from Minshara for a moment to watch the carriage. Myrnal herself didn't travel with much. Generally if it couldn't fit in her pack it got left behind. The one exception, of course, was her knife collection. Her grandfather was keeping that in trust for her while she went to risk life and limb for whatever cause came her way.

Myrnal tucked a stray curl of hair back up under her hat as she watched the porters packing away Minshara's belongings. She glanced over her shoulder briefly at her travelling companion. How far was she going to go with this woman? She was only really obligated to follow her to Nijon, dropping notes to Papilonn along the way to assure her employer that Minshara was unharmed. Beyond that, wasn't anything Myrnal did... of her own free will?

The ninja scowled. Minshara was just... one of those people. One of those women people did things for, with goals that made sense and the means to achieve them if only someone would stand with her and make sure that the vicious and ugly things in the world stayed clear of her path. Ironic that someone like Myrnal was filling that role.

It's like eliminating a dangerous animal by bringing in an even more bloodthirsty and unpredictable one on a short short leash.

Myrnal generally tried to keep herself from waxing introspective when she was in public. The chance was too high that she'd do something stupid, something utterly absurd. She was always afraid that when she was like this she'd someday make the mistake of seeking comfort in the counsel of another. The very idea was ridiculous, and this situation wasn't helping by bringing all this nonsense to the surface. Every time she looked over to the pensive and exhausted woman who stood by her side wearing her clothes... Myrnal had to roughly remind herself just... not to think about it.

Just don't think about it right now. The words had become a mantra, the underlying rhythm of every action and word in Myrnal's life. There were certain things people just shouldn't think about. As far as Myrnal was concerned she was one of them, and she enforced that rule most strictly of all upon herself.

Altair waited for the other passengers to disembark before he and Demetri set foot onto the fresh tiles of Narim’s seasoned port. The familiar scent of sea water was everywhere, as evident as the gentle breaking of waves against the sturdy pillars. Trees swayed in the perpetual breeze and a multitude of what seemed like pirates, brigands and cutthroats roam the streets, undisturbed by the authorities from the other cities. Their own brand of policing was more than enough a reason for the denizens here to keep the peace.

Altair knew all about Arganus, and while the de facto ruler of Narim did not scare him one bit, he had absolutely no reason to get friendly with the local population. Narim on other days would be the best place to recuperate and restock his supply, but right now, it is merely a tool in which he uses to gain entrance to a place far more significant.

They passed the Iron Maiden, a well known shop for even the most arcane and obscure weapons. Most of the items within were stolen, either through thievery or murder and put up for sale here, tagged with occasionally, a ridiculously exorbitant price. One day, if fate brings him back here, he’d have a look at the merchandise, but now, time is ticking away and Altair didn’t want the carriage driver to think he and Demetri weren’t coming.

They walked down the streets, without a hint of trouble. Most of the locals shied away, due in large part to their larger size, but Altair suspected it had to be something about the way they dressed and armed. Someone in a similar trade will most probably recognize a familiar. While most have their own style, generically, they dress alike, and this is most often how recognition is given.

While they may not know that one is an assassin and the other, a mercenary, the locals would know that both Altair and Demetri were familiars of the trade and as such, left them alone, but with only a suspicious eye.

Beyond the looming mist lay a dirt road, one that led, inevitably into the Quegan Jungle, Altair could make out the silhouette of the waiting carriage.

“Rein your horse in,” Altair said to Demetri, “I’ll load up our packs,”

Altair walked towards the carriage, his long dark coat swaying gently from side to side, making him seem like an apparition floating from the mist. The hilt of his sword, the only visible weapon on him, glistened slightly from the light.

An adrenaline rush raced through him. Soon, he’ll be in Nijon and it won’t be long before he finds Talia.

Opening the carriage door, Altair stepped inside, only to stop abruptly as if blocked by an invisible wall.

Already seated in the carriage were the two women Demetri had first pointed out in question whilst they were still on the ship. They appeared inconspicuous but he could tell, from the look in their eyes, that this carriage ride was going to be most awkward.
Well, for them and Demetri at least.

“Salutations,” Altair said, stepping into the carriage and taking a seat.

He wondered what Demetri would say to this.

Whatever it is, it wont be anything short of interesting.

Myrnal glanced over as the two shady-looking fellows boarded the carriage. Her own very brief moment of alarm flickered over her face briefly... but disappeared when she saw alarm written in their expressions as well. She lifted her fingers to the brim of her hat and slid them along its edge, tipping the hat down and preventing eye contact with their carriage-mates.

Well, this is bizarre. The gods either have a sick sense of humor or these men are dangerous. Either way, it's hard to call this coincidence. Well... only one way to learn more, right? Gotta show you've got a pair if you're going to know where people stand. May as well say hi.

Myrnal glanced over to Minshara before leaning back and stretching her legs. She casually crossed her ankles and wove her fingers together behind her neck. Leaning her head back against her hands, she looked down at the gentlemen from beneath her hat. She waited a few moments before speaking, enjoying the heavy silence hanging between them. Someone had to say something. It seemed as if the air itself expected it.

"So. Awkward silence. We going to sit here like weirdos or is someone going to make asinine and meaningless conversation?"