The Road to Tullybrook

Abryxia said that anyone would have been as nice as she was, which Rally considered for a moment and then said, definitively:

"No. They wouldn't."

Abryxia's approval of their actions was nice, though, in a sort of warm fuzzy way. Or... maybe the warmth was just from the creature that had appeared behind her. It was really a bit strange how something that big could just pop up - maybe it had been hiding under a rock. A very big rock. Like a mountain?

Miss Morgan Gristlemead was looking at it, too.

"No, I think she wanted it just regular," Rally answered, about the horse, because it seemed polite to answer. They took a few steps forward, towards Abryxia, watching over her shoulder.

"Look, Abryxia! A wy-rm!" They said this with no fear, and also with an archaic pronunciation, two syllables, in the same way as wy-vern, because they were similar, after all, and wasn't that where the word had come from, once upon a time. "Maybe you can write a song about it! That would be really popular once we get to Tully's Brook!"

They took another step past her, towards the creature. "Hello there! You're not mine, I don't think. I only have a cicada. I don't think you'd fit in my hat. Even if it is a big hat. Were you under a rock? I must not have turned that one over. What are you doing all the way down here?"
 
Abryxia turned slowly, expression going to a friendly smile - to a moment of confusion - to abject terror. That was a dragon. Or, at least, it looked like a dragon. She'd never seen dragons before, only heard about them in stories, but if the stories could be believed the creature in front of her was decidedly dragony in nature.

Taking several steps back, she stopped behind Rally and Morgan, staring up at the intense red eyes of the beast.

"H-hey. Rally? Can ye - Rally?"

The kid didn't blast away at the creature like Abryxia was going to ask. Instead, they walked closer to it, talking to it like - like someone would a pet. Abryxia blinked, tail flicking quickly - agitated - back and forth behind her.

"Miss Rally, I really don' think - I - Miss Morgan, what do we do?"

The wyrm stared as Rally approached. It seemed nervous. On edge. Uncertain of where it was, or where it was supposed to go. Its scales were dull, and its body thin, haggard frame draped with loose, sagging skin. It let out a huff of hot smoke, took a step back, and swept its sharp gaze between the trio.

Jutting out its neck, it let out a low growl of warning.
 
“Welcome, come and get yourself out of the rain, I’m just cooking up a few bites to eat here, and we’ve got some room still by the drying wood.” Sae said, looking back over her shoulder at the two newcomers. She motioned with her spoon to the an open space that’d put the two new ones opposite the fire. It also gave them a nice bit of rubble to sit on, because everyone needed a good sit after a day on the road.

“If you’ve got anything you’d like warmed up, I can make some space on the skillet for you.” the elf added with a wink.
 
Strangers abound! Viviane didn't quite catch what Dim had mumbled beneath her breath, but with the new arrivals, the time to ask was soon lost. She shifted her focus, again adjusting her posture to present as ladylike as she could manage, and set her face with the proper neutrality one would expect from someone such as she.

Her greeting faltered when she saw the man, but quicky she elected to focus on his face, and the woman with him, in order to avoid any faux pas. "Greetings. Our fire should have ample room, should you have need of rest," she said, motioning to the opposite side, where currently no one had taken a seat. Then, introductions. "I am Lady Viviane Ophellia Allard, heir to the Barony of Duleis. The one sitting near me is Miss Dim, and she is Miss Sae," she said, motioning to each in turn.
 
"Pleased to meetcha," the man replied cheerfully, approaching the fire and settling down on a nearby rock. In the faint aura of light, the situation with his legs became a bit more obvious - in place of feet, he simply had pair of well-worn hooves. "I'm Mayflower, and my lovely companion over yon is Riven Cowl. C'mon over, Riven, these people are nice, see? Not like the others."

The woman approached warily, creeping up to the fire alongside Mayflower, sitting a ways back on the rubble so she was partially hidden behind him.

"They seem the rest," she muttered. Mayflower laughed.

"Seeming isn't being! Now - me and my friend, here, we're on a... pilgrimage, so to speak. A journey of devotion! Haven't had the nicest luck on the road, though - have we, Riven? Last town damn near tossed us out!"

He tutted.

"Shameful world, to be cursed at for simple faith. Heard tell people of the west are kinder for that sort of thing! Y'all on the road to the west, also?"
 
"No. East. And south. We come from the north-west. What faith do you hold to?" The two hadn't tried to kill any of them, yet, so Dim pulled the flask loose and sipped from it, glancing between the two newcomers again. They weren't exactly doing much to alter her first impressions of them.

"Also, Dim isn't my name. It's what I'm called. Don't have a name." She had to clear that up. People down here always got the wrong idea. They treated names like they were things everyone should have; like they didn't mean anything. She'd never get used to that.

The flask felt light in her hand. She'd probably need to look at refilling it soon.
 
Viviane took a moment to consider what the man, Mayflower, had said. They were travelling east, on some sort of religious pilgrimage. She was very intentional in keeping her face neutral, even as she wanted to screw her face into one of confusion as she worked over what was being presented.

Her home was in the west. Duleis was the first barony, the one closest to the lands of the Dark One, historically. As far as she knew, though, that was a long dead worship, and there wasn't anything else novel to the west. Duleis, like most others, believed in the Saints, the heroes of old, not...

It was also curious that they were heading west, but as far as Viviane could tell, they did not react to her title. Finally, she spoke, addressing Mayflower. "We are travelling east, to Tullybrook. My home, and my barony, Duleis, lies to the west, however, and you will most certainly pass through it. I'm afraid I am unfamiliar with the faiths spreading through the people there, on account of the duties I must fulfill, and if you would spare the time, I would love to know who or what it is you are travelling for."
 
Mayflower opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Riven interrupted, voice low and coarse.

"We follow in wake of the One Who Exalts Those In Dark." She folded her hands together, leaning a bit past Mayflower to catch the heat of the fire. "The one who promises freedom of lands long taken."

Mayflower laughed.

"Well, that's certainly a dramatic way to put it, hm? We follow a Born Again God. An Old Faith, but - a strong one. Easy to have strong faith when your God has walked among us, hm?"

Again, Riven interrupted.

"Your kind can't say the same," she muttered, crossing her arms fully now. Her eyes settled coldly on Viviane. "Even the faithful bore traitors, and traitors' blood runs still today."

"Come now, friend, there's little need for such talk," Mayflower chastised. Clapping his hands on his thighs, he grinned broadly. "Seems we'll be passing through your lands, then, m'Lady. I've heard good things about Duleis - a welcoming sort, so to speak!"
 
"It's alright, just-"

Fuck fucking fuck, what did that book say again? Something about its field of vision? The way it tracks its prey through smell? Was that about wyverns or wyrms- was that about wyverns or wyrms...

"Don't- don't meet its gaze. It's eyes- it- it can only see a sliver of what's in front of it, if it sees anything it thinks is a threat, it's going to-"

She started to back away, checking the others to make sure they were following her.

"Weren't you two meant to have killed this thing!?"
 
An Old Faith? Viviane hadn't ever been told much about those, on account of how outdated and out of fashion they were nowadays. Hardly a person followed one, much less made a pilgrimage for them. In her experience, the people who followed an Old Faith typically already lived in a place that was accepting of one, places that still believed.

But, as the name implied, they were part of the history of Erdhol. To some degree, they influenced the stories and heroism of those who would later become Saints. They were the foundation that everything else had built upon, the stepping stones that led to the adventures Viviane had read so much about, what she wanted for herself. The... name of the Old God was off-putting, and it wasn't one she was familiar with from her studies, but she didn't expect to know everything, not yet.

"The people of Duleis should give you no trouble, so long as you are respectful and present yourself well," she responded, taking a glance towards the one called Riven. "Perhaps you could share some, about this One Who Exalts Those In Dark? I am afraid I've not heard the name before, and I am travelling to learn, after all."
 
"Oh, are you scared? It's okay, I'm scared too. Don't tell Abryxia, okay? She'd just worry." The fact that Abryxia was standing quite close enough to hear this comment did not deter Rally Rose in the slightest. "There, there. You're a long way from home. I bet you're hungry, too. I don't think I have anything for you, I'm sorry. I don't remember what you're supposed to eat, there were always other people who knew about that. Hopefully you don't eat hats, because I like my hat."

Rally had stopped approaching at the warning growl, but carefully held out a hand. It was the one they'd charred a little bit earlier when drying out the moss, and they hadn't really had time to fix it up, but hopefully no one would notice if they kept it in their sleeve mostly - and they didn't think the wyrm would mind much.

Morgan asked a question, and the hat tilted ever so slightly, though its owner didn't turn around, but there was a rigidity in Rally Rose's skeleton that hadn't been there a moment before.

"I do not wish to be told what I am meant to kill, Miss Morgan Gristlemead."
 
“The One Who Exalts Those In The Dark?” Sae said, repeating the words as if to try their shape. The two newcomers seemed to run the gamut of those who follow religions that have become cults again, the friendly type who wished to speak the good word again and one gone bitter by a divine forgotten. They reminded her of when she was a little girl of only fifty speaking to the humans who had come to make a life in the Wend.

“It's a damp night out, please do share a few stories if you’d please. Always helps a campfire feel a little warmer.”
 
"Your kind would call him by a different name." She smiled. It wasn't a comfortable smile - it wasn't a pleasant smile. In fact, it seemed to convey the exact opposite feeling, a feeling smiles had no right to convey. "The Dark One."

Mayflower winced.

"You've probably heard lots of takes, but I assure you, we're not going to - flay you alive, or - eat your children, or anything like that! Honestly, the whole faith's been treated quite unfairly."

He laughed, rubbing at the back of his head.

"It's - no different from any of your religions, really. Just something to give a sense of purpose. Of belonging. I hope you understand."

--

The wyrm tilted its head down, sniffing the back of Rally's hand with a huff. Slowly, the growl disappeared, and it instead bobbed its head at them, tail sending leaves and rocks and dirt flying as it swished back and forth against the forest floor.

"Ye - ye don' gotta kill nothin', Miss Rally," Abryxia assuaged, nervous tremor still sharp in her voice. "But I gotta be frank, I am a bit worried 'bout the whole situation here. Scared lightless, even."

She glanced to Morgan, then looked back to Rally.

"That thing - the, er. The beastie ain't gonna hurt us, is it? Ye got this... handled?"
 
The wyrm had settled down again, that was good. Rally Rose gave it a few more there there sorts of comments, assuring it that it was a very good wyrm, the best one they had seen all day, and that its tail was indeed very long and powerful. Perhaps this was partially due to the fact that they were pointedly ignoring Miss Morgan Gristlemead, but that was maybe for the best. They didn't really want to end a fight.

Abryxia had calmed things down a little, or at least as much as she could. Maybe it wasn't very much, but it was enough.

"I don't know if it's going to hurt us or not," Rally answered, quite honestly. "It's kind of fun, isn't it? I mean, you can always set a compulsion, but compulsions work a lot better with do than with don't, and also then I'd get hungry again, and also I'm not doing that any more."

The last bit seemed a little tacked on, at the end, as if Rally Rose had remembered that while considering the particulars. They wandered a little closer to the wyrm again, though careful in case it started growling again.

"It's too bad you weren't around earlier, you would have made a lovely bridge, wouldn't you?"
 
Just at the mention of the name, Viviane felt unsettled, uncomfortable. Her posture dipped slightly under the weight of Riven's smile, and her eyes glanced to the corners of the long-abandoned tower they'd made their shelter- had the shadows grown darker?

"I- see. I hadn't expected you too," she said in response to Mayflower, pointedly ignoring the fact that it was now exactly what she was worried about. And maybe what he was saying was right, maybe it was unfair, maybe there was valid reason to worship in His footsteps- she didn't know him, after all. She only knew what she knew of the Dark One from the stories, and who knew if those were accurate? She struggled to find a response, though, and eventually settled into an uncomfortable silence, letting her eyes fall on her hands, folded in her lap.
 
The wyrm blew a puff of smoke, bowing its head down towards Rally as they drew closer. Its agitation seemed to taper - in fact, as it pushed its snout forward, it even closed its eyes.

Abryxia still wasn't sold, though. She rubbed at her arm, keeping a healthy distance between herself and the creature. It was awfully big. And awfully sharp looking, especially in the teeth area. And - hadn't they implied it could breathe fire? No good things spit fire everywhere. That belonged safe in a hearth or stove, thank you very much.

"...nae, Rally," she muttered back at the kid's words of not-very-encouragement. "I din think it's all that fun not knowin' if it's gonna hurt us or not."

She stared at Rally for a moment. Seeing her. Really seeing her. A child who wasn't afraid of going off alone. Who could conjure explosions out of thin air. Who talked to blood-tinny dragons.

"We're not like ye, miss. Least, I'm not. I'm jus' a borin'-ol' person."

--

"Well, we've got that matter cleared, at least!" Mayflower replied with a grin, clapping his hands together. He looked to his icy-faced companion. "Seems Duleis' fit to be a proper place at last, hm?"

Riven nodded slowly. Her eyes still lingered on Viviane.

"Tell me, Lady." The word had the barest hint of scorn. "Do you know much of your kingdom's past? I would think a person of highblood would be properly educated."

Mayflower, meanwhile, had moved closer to the fire, taking in a deep breath and sighing contentedly.

"Your name was... Sae? Ah, I've always valued a long-ear's cooking. Tell me. Are you of the Wend, or northerly?"
 
Rally reached out just a little bit more, resting their fingertips on the snout of the wyrm, giving it a little scritch. Abryxia was keeping her distance, and somehow, the words she said seemed to make the distance feel even bigger.

Not like you.

She wasn't wrong. It was never wrong, when people said that. Rally could have argued, could have said they were the same on the inside. They all had skeletons, didn't they? Sometimes they felt like that should have been enough, but it wasn't, and they weren't really surprised. It wasn't anything new.

Maybe that was why they were looking for adventure so hard, because maybe it could have been different. Rally drew a little closer to the wyrm, maybe because they just wanted to be a little closer to something.

"No." A quiet word, sad. "I suppose not. But... I just wanted to pretend. For a while."
 
Viviane shifted beneath Riven's gaze, uncomfortable and unsure of what the woman was wanting of her. She was a noble, of course she knew her people's- her home's history. How could she not? It was important, to know that Duleis had fought to hold the Dark One at arms length, that they had offered the heroes help in their time of need- but, for some reason, Riven's stare and intense questioning made her begin to wonder if what she had been taught was correct.

Her mother's voice echoed in her mind, and she fixed her posture, reset her face, and set her eyes up on the woman once more. "Of course I know the histories. It would have been a failing on myself and my family if I did not," she said, allowing some indignation through. "I assume that you intend to inform me of something you think the Allard family missed?"
 
“Aye, Sae’s the name.” Sae asked, her gaze turning to Mayflower. She held it, for a spell, her lips dipping down into a quizzical frown. Her great aunt always said that it was time that made things distant, and allowed the shorter lived to forget lessons hard learned. Still, wasn’t on her to judge others for how they’ve chosen to spend their time so long as they weren’t making themselves troublesome for those around them, and these two didn’t seem the meddlesome sort. So, the elf smiled, and gave the pan a toss with a flick of her wrist. A touch of showing off for guests didn’t do much harm either, even if it would make greater gran tut.

“Had the pleasure before have you? Well, I hope my cooking doesn’t disappoint then.” Sae said with a cheerful laugh. “I was born in the Wend, and I’m ‘fraid to say I haven’t been any further north than Gaptooth, but always time for travelin’.” Her gaze dropped from Mayflower as she turned the pieces of bread she had laid out. From the looks of things she’d need to split a couple so everyone could have a trencher, but there wasn’t much trouble in that.

“Been to the Wend yourself?” Sae asked, her attention turning back.
 
Abryxia's eyes flitted between Rally, the wyrm, and Morgan. Thin plumes of smoke curled out of the wyrm's snout as it lowered its head, pressing the tip of its nose against Rally's shoulder. The bard stared. And stared. And swallowed, taking a step forward. Immediately, the wyrm huffed, and she frozen, holding up both her hands.

"Ey, beastie. Ey," she muttered, avoiding eye contact with it. Her tail flicked back and forth like an agitated cat as she moved up beside Rally. "Jus' gonna - stand right here, aight? No harm. M' not trouble, an' m' certain not a snack."

She reached out a hand - flashes of the wyrm lunging forward and biting it off pushed into the back of her head where she'd hopefully think about it less - and patted Rally on the shoulder gently.

Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' different, Miss Rally. I think - I think it's right proper brave yer standin' next ta this thing without a care. S'enviable, yea? Wish I had - had half yer guts."

She looked at the wyrm. It looked back at her. She quickly looked away.

"Let's - let's get back ta tha camp, aye? Leave this beastie on its way." Her heart sank a bit as she came to a realization, and she winced, lip curling beneath her teeth. "We - I'm gonna have ta tell poor Lady Allard her horse is prolly wyrmfood, though."

--

Riven snorted.

"History is penned in blood, My Lady, and those who are slain have little voice to amend. You say you go to Tullybrook to learn. I suggest you learn properly."

She tilted her head in an almost mocking stance.

"When you go to your little college, ask for Alibaster. He'll set you straight. Maybe then you'll understand the true meaning of your name."

--

"Ha! Well, while the sharp-ears up north have much to say of you Wenders, they certainly have nothing bad to say about your cooking!" Mayflower replied with a bright laugh of his own. "No roast sweeter than that on an elven flame, hm?"

He nodded at her question.

"Was in the Wend for a year. Lovely folk. Very communal. I've a soft heart for people who look after their own, and a sucker more for those who make outsiders feel as welcome. It was a nice reprieve, after the Longflat." His face soured a bit. "Those folks aren't - quite rude, but they certainly make it well-known they don't want you around long. Especially, well. People like us."

His head tilted in Sae's direction, then Riven's. Then, after a pause, Viviane's.

"Their kind give you much trouble?"
 
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