Plot 201: An Unfortunate Turn

Ithran settled himself on the leaves that made up most of the clearing floor, grateful for a chance to rest. Aodh had been on high alert for some time, and the whole group had suffered injuries, including Ithran himself. Dinah's had looked to be the most immediately severe, and he hoped she'd have some sense and let them care for it once she returned from scouting the nearby forest. Someone should really make her do something about it, he thought with frustration, but of course there was no giving orders to the Paladin.
As if his thoughts had summoned her she slipped out of the undergrowth across the clearing from him and spoke to Little Bird, their voices soft. Ithran pushed himself to his feet, nodding to Freya before limping over to the other two in time to catch the end of Little Bird's sentence.
"...cleaned and taken care of."
Ithran nodded in agreement. "We're all about as well as can be expected. I take it you found nothing of particular interest?" He almost let his ears droop and he ached to take the weight off his hind leg, but one look at Dinah's face banished the idea. She stood straight and tall, looking exhausted but alert, as if she could keep going all day if need be. He sighed and glanced around camp again, tallying their group in his head. Freya, Little Bird, and Dinah were all here, of course, and Godric was…
Ithran still wasn't sure where they'd lost the tall black stallion, or whether he was even alive. It spoke worlds about his exhaustion that he’d forgotten again. Ithran had tried to be optimistic about their accomplishments at the Crucible, tried to keep them in perspective, to remember the good they had done, but this final blow undid his most valiant efforts. He let his head droop and his ears fall. What was the point?

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Post 1
Word Count: 325

Dinah | Paladin

Dinah listened carefully to each Vindicator as one by one they reported, but only with half a mind. The rest of her focus was aimed towards observing the body language, the mood of the weary group. Morale was low, but that was no surprise, and had been a fact of life for the past few grueling months. They had succeeded in throwing the capital of Aodh into utter chaos and, though the utter destruction of the Crucible had been more than they had bargained for (but that’s what you get, buying explosives off the black market) it had allowed for almost a solid quarter of the labor slaves in the city to escape, a crushing blow indeed. But it hadn’t been enough, and now life was far, far more dangerous for any wandering vagabond.

Dinah felt bitter fury rise up and threaten to clog her throat as she saw the weary despair in Little Bird’s eyes, in the way Ithran struggled to maintain a proud composure. Freya too was subdued; the destruction they had left their wake, the knowledge that innocent lives had been lost, did not sit well with any of her Vindicators, and Dinah loved them for it, even if she did not share their… emotionality. She couldn’t; a lifetime of Eithne had quite burned it from her. She had worn the shackles of Aodh, had spilled her blood for their entertainment, had been forced to produce a daughter only to have her too ripped away- no, Dinah would not burden her mind with regret for citizens of Eithne, not if she had to burn the entire city to ashes before it and its taint were stamped from the world. Better to die a slave, than to live as one.

Freya’s last words punctured Dinah’s grim musings, and she looked sharply at the dark mare.

“East?” she asked tensely, head swinging to peer in that direction. “But you caught no fresh scents?” She flicked her ears, staring into the treeline as if she could force it to divulge its secrets. “Were the prints shod, or bare?” Shod would indicate War Forged Scouts or worse,Raiders, while bare was more likely to be Vagabonds.

“We’ll double the watch tonight to be safe,” she decided finally, tension lending a clipped edge to her words. “And Oren will scout in that direction as well,” she added. The great horned owl in question was currently sleeping, and Dinah would only rouse him during the day if absolutely necessary.

Her wound twinged again, and Dinah stove off a grimace that was more of frustration than pain. “We may have to boil more bandages as well; let’s do that sooner than later.” A fire at night was a beacon, and thus to be avoided at all costs. “Ithran, rest that leg before it gives out on you,” Dinah added, not unkindly. “You can have first night watch; no scouting for you today.” Freya and Birdie, though far from unscathed, would be able to continue the scouting as necessary.

Again, Dinah’s yellow gaze searched the treeline, but found no answers.

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Post 2 | 515 words

Ithran fought down the urge to insist that he was fine, to say that he could go scouting again, but as he straightened to say so the pain in his nearly-healed leg made him wince. Perhaps... perhaps Dinah was right. For now he would help boil bandages.

Cinder glided down from one of the nearby trees, landing on Ithran's withers and chittering excitedly. Ithran almost smiled, his mood brightening a bit; the squirrel always had that effect on him. He walked over to the fire, or rather the remnants of it; they had let it die off to avoid smoke. Carefully he relit it, piling twigs and dry leaves on until glowing orange flames caught and flared like some wild thing, trapped in the confines he'd set for it. As the fire gained strength his attention turned back to Cinder, who hadn't settled down yet. The squirrel was still running around his back, and still chattering. Odd, that. Cinder would usually chatter for a short while after reuniting like this, but he always settled down quickly.

Ignoring the squirrel for the time being, he picked up their cauldron, a cheap affair that thankfully had withstood weeks of rough travel and near daily use, and went to the nearby stream to fill it, Cinder still chirping away on his back. As he walked the pain in his leg flared occasionally, but for the most part was bearable. The creek wasn't far at all, just out of sight of the clearing, and once he was near the water its soft bubbling was remarkably soothing. The past weeks had been extremely stressful, and all Ithran really wanted was a break from it all. Just a short one, to get away from everything for a little while and rest so he could start to feel like himself again. But with the new restrictions and laws centering on Vagabonds so many of the realms were passing it seemed as if it would be near impossible to do that. He pushed the dark thoughts away and started singing to himself as he filled the cauldron and pulled it back up out of the stream.

"This world, though dark, still holds much light, those who give will kindness see. Though oft it’s easy to loose sight, I will gain wisdom to guide me..." He trailed off as rustling from the brush caught his attention and he set the cauldron back down. It came from the direction of the clearing, and he assumed it was one of the group's familiars, or perhaps one of the many wild creatures so common to these forests. The forests of his home, actually, now that he thought about it.

He hadn't really taken time to think about the fact that he was back in Onea, his birthplace. He'd thought about it so often since he was a child, and yet he hadn't been back until now, more than a decade after he'd left. His mind skipped over the dark years with his mother, and... the time after she'd left, going straight to memories of traveling with Aldiris. Those had been the best years of his life. Aldiris had taught him everything she knew about being a bard, and he'd learned eagerly. Barding was his true passion. Or, it had been. Being a Vindicator was more important right now, by far, for him and for everyone who couldn't stand for themselves. This way he could really change things, do some good in the world in a way he couldn't as a bard. He picked the cauldron up and headed back to the clearing. Perhaps he was being an idealistic kid; part of him feared he was. But it was worth it. It had to be. 

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Post: 2
Word Count: 651

ithran is feeling introspective today