Deadwaltz didn't need to much of an effort to keep up with Wisp, the larger woman's long tree trunks called legs keeping the hurried stretch with relative ease, the woman draped in her cloak while she stoppped every now and then to glance upwards towards the sky, sniffing the air and huffing. No scent of monsters in the air. No sulfurous odors of evil afoot. It was going to be the most boring of travels, wasn't it? At least the mist in the air was refreshing and cool; each step Waltz occasionally opening her mouth to gulp at the moisture in the air, and exhaling with delight. "Ah miss this kinda weather in the North. Too cold down here. It makes mah ass sweat too much." Waltz whined.

Christoval snickered and soldiered on with both two bags, weights, and whatever else he had mustered and hidden in his own person, the boy following behind Percival and soaked with perspiration already. Not that he was complaining. If anything, it earned him the rights to actually complain when he needed to, and he looked over at the Healer, and then towards Waltz, before addressing the former. "I find that hard to believe. You seem like the sort of guy who would wanna be wrapped up in those arms." He said, voice just audible enough for Percival to hear, and not Waltz. For fear she'd take him literally. Christoval looked down at his own boots and mimicked Kastivi, lifting his feet up on top of his own burdens. Any tips he could muster from others would help, right?

Wisp stopped when Kastivi addressed her meddling with the dead, and shot herself over towards the daughter, before offering out a hand and smiling. "Disrespectful? Is that the word you're looking for? Or was it dangerous. The dead are the least dangerous you can come across. If you want dangerous, I'll have you come with me when we rest for the night." She croned, narrowing her eyes at Kastivi. "There are worse things to come across. The soul of a murderer just asking to be heard isn't one of them." She paused and looked around, her anger and nasty look growing worse and worse. "And look, you've delayed us a few precious seconds. That's all it takes for an arrow to pierce the throat of my apprentice. Would you like to address the guild for that one if it ever happened?"

Christoval moved towards the two, and placed a hand on Wisp, getting her attention, and then giving her a small, gentle push towards the direction she had been going initially, huffing and pouting. "We can't bicker now. We just started, Wisp. Can we just keep marching?"

"Fine."

“Again, more useful information. You know, I really should be writing this down,” Arabella said, a mischievous grin blooming. “So you come from the north then, Deadwaltz? What brings you midland? Kastivi here is from the southern coastal nations, I'm sure she can tell you a thing or two about sweat.”

Kastivi had been focused on her feet as if looking at them would prevent her from dragging them, but she looked up hearing her name, “Well, yeah, but you can sweat in any climate if you work hard enough, and Ara can tell you a bit about that.” Arabella chuckled. Her apprentice thought she worked her hard; it was cute.

“Could be worse, Kastivi. I could make you carry my bag as well. The Goddess knows you could use the training, and the young knight over here is taking it without complaint.”

Kastivi kept her mouth shut after that. Percival would be lying if he said he wasn't at least mildly entertained. What a rag tag group of people they had going with them this time. Sure, he'd been with many groups. But two pyromancers, a knight, a barbarian, and a dark magician? All with these personalities? They blended together in a strange, but satisfactory, way and despite Watlz's bad breath and lack of personal boundaries, he would be okay with traveling with them. Which was good, because he didn't have much of a choice. “Ah, so you base everything on appearance, young knight? I will keep that in mind when I am determining the severity and therefore priority of wounds...”

Kastivi raised her eyebrows, biting back a laugh. Never a good thing to be threatened by your healer. After all, when the quest turned into a nightmare, one's life was in the healer's hands. She made it a point on every quest to be kind to the healers as she knew how rare a breed they were. It seemed she needed to be still kinder to the dark mage who she seemed to have offended. She gulped with the dark mage's offer, sheepishly shaking her head. She did not want to see dangerous. “I'm sorry,” she squeaked, turning her eyes to the ground.

"Writing is for milk drinkers. Ah remember anything the maces don't knock outta mah head." Deadwaltz countered, snickering and looking down. Way down, towards the Halfling. She was so smol, and if it wasn't for her more cultured tone of speaking, she would have mistaken Arabella for a scholar's child or something similar. "Ah came down to the Midlands because yah lot can't fight monsters properly. All this guilding and planning. Yah should just send your biggest people to bash them like ah learned how to." Deadwaltz snorted and soured her face at Kastivi, though it was more due to the sun's glare than distaste, and placing her hands on her hips, Waltz shook her head. "Ah was in the South once. Ah had to go naked. Too hot. Then sunburns. Mah ass looked like a winterberry."

"Yah kiddos don't know the meaning of work. Yah got weights on yahself. Ah wanna see you do Northern work. Drag ten logs over a mountain so yah can have enough fire so the tribe don't freeze. That's work." Deadwaltz replied with a small shrug and a small, humble little smile.

Christoval was trodding like a true champion, and looked over towards the Halfling when the mention of a knight was heard. "I can manage another bag if it's needed." He offered, looking towards the three with a nonchalant smile. Kastivi looked like she was doing a decent amount of work in his opinion, though the Boy would have rather imagined her lavish in wealth, and not having to lift a finger. Kastivi was a gorgeous thing and didn't need to sully her hands with anything, if he could help it. Percival's threat however snapped him out of his fevered dream, and Christoval decided to take the threat head on. "That's provided I get hurt. First thing I learned is not getting hit is a priority." He paused and shrugged at the man. "The other one I learned is monsters have a knack for slicing up the healers first. I'll be sure to protect you. You seem to need it."

Wisp snickered and brought a hand up to cover her mouth, looking to gauge Percival's reaction; All the while making sure she continued to torment Kastivi as much as she could without earning the Halfling's ire. "Apologies? Some things don't accept those. A Dark Mage can be one of them if they're irritated enough." A malevolent grin stretched across her features, and Wisp looked over at the Halfling. "With your permission, I think the young daughter should witness a display of my arts at some point. No damage to her, of course. Some things can be permanent, and I'll keep my demonstration to simple summonings, that can poofed back to the Abyss."

“I happen to enjoy a warm mug of milk on cold winter evenings,” Arabella said simply, “Don't worry, Deadwaltz, the things that do managed to get knocked out of your head with maces I will have happily recorded for you.” Where another person would have pat Deadwaltz on the back, Arabella couldn't reach so she settled for a wry smile. Here, however, her face turned a bit more serious, “Not all who are big wish to fight and not all who are small should be underestimated. You have seen me fight before; I like to think that I at the very least hold my own. As far as handling things in the Midlands, it seems have been getting darker recently. I assume something larger is at work here, but I can't be certain. It's all talk presently. As far as being in the South goes? I'll be thankful I decided not to settle there.”

Kastivi looked down. She always perceived herself to be a hard worker, whether in the fields or on the road with Arabella, she took everything that was thrown at her. Sure, once in a while complaints were warranted, but she did work hard. In fact, half of her training with Ara had been to restrain herself, which was something Ara had never before had to deal with. She had a hard time instructing the novice how to keep her powers toned down rather than simply trying to summon them up. They were always right there just below the surface. Even in the chill of the morning fog, Kastivi was warm, and any that got close to her could feel heat radiating from her skin. “I...I can manage it, thank you, Christoval,” she said finally, keeping her head bowed so as not to earn more attention from the dark mage.

Percival narrowed his eyes, but kept his cool, one of his hands reaching down for the flask he'd had filled at the guild hall, “If they are sentient, you're right. And spells that don't cause excess pain take a moment to cast, so you are correct. I will need protecting then for the sake of you and your friend's lives. But do not underestimate me, good knight. I have some offensive spells up my sleeve as well and do not intend for you to be completely beside yourself in battle. I look forward to your protection as much as you should look forward to continue seeing your friends alive.” He took a small swig from his drink, winced a bit, and went in for more, “I think it best we remain on friendly terms, yes?”

Arabella seemed more than content to let her apprentice flounder under the gaze of the dark mage. After all, the dark mage did speak truth. Not every creature they came across had reason enough to accept apologies or peace treaties. Kastivi, on the other hand, was stuck trying to duck out of said gaze, wishing she could go back to stealing quick glances to the knight. Instead, she had to hope that the dark mage would spare her. She said nothing, hoping that she would get bored and move on, choking when Arabella answered her question, “I think it would be a good learning experience for her. Yes, go ahead with that when we rest.”

The party was now on the outskirts of town, passing the bodies. Beyond the town's borders lay a forest, one that they seemed to be heading straight into. Based on what Kastivi had overheard at the guild hall, there were stories about this forest; stories, that soon she would soon see if there was any truth behind.

Finding herself a bit lost for words, Deadwaltz coughed for a moment. Did the Midlanders not realize small jabs at them like that? Or was the milk drinking just an insult rooted in fact? She didn't press further, and Waltz returned Arabella's grin with one of her own, the larger woman rolling her shoulders to keep them from going stiff. "Ah seen you mow down the ankles and shins of ah lot of people. It's why ah was also happy seeing you here. Ah also didn't realize your apprentice was Wisp's lover." She said, grunting and snickering. "Ah hope not. Things is bad enough here. Ah don't like all the work ah can get. Means bad omens. Yah see the people in the South though? Nice enough. Just don't like the weather."

Christoval frowned. It was bad enough he was watching Kastivi get downtrodden on all sides, but his master was driving the nails into her psyche hard enough. Sucking in an excess of air, the boy was gonna try and talk to Wisp when the time came. And hopefully not end up a newt or whatever the rumors were about Dark Mages. All he had heard from them were the peasant rumors, and while Wisp didn't fit the original billing, there was a sliver of him that was inclined to believe the tales. "The moment you can't handle anymore, lemme know. We're a team right now. Training or not we gotta watch each other's backs out here."

It was Deadwaltz herself that spoke up on the Boy's behalf; Christoval opening his mouth, only to shut it when the Barbarian was speaking, her words shouted out towards Percival. "If yah lot are gonna wave your threats around, I'm gonna smack both of you, and then mah feet are gonna be walking with a pair of man-shoes, cause mah feet are gonna be up your ass." Huffing, and scowling, the Barbarian flared her nostrils. "We in monster lands now. Bickering makes monsters happy. Easier to eat us."

Christoval managed to eke out a small response in his own when Waltz had said her fill, giving Percival a look that looked almost as good of a glare as if it had come from Wisp herself. She was growing habits on him. "I can considering working terms, at the very least, sir."

Wisp rubbed her hands together and pondered what exactly was gonna be brought into being so the younger daughter could learn. While she was more than happy just terrifying the girl, she did have some semblance of a heart, and bringing something she could learn from into being was also on her mind. If anything, her patron being summoned into being would be a fitting course of action, if only because Wisp had...Business with it in the first place. "I would start with at least casting your best protections on her then, Arabella. I can't do everything, despite me wishing it were so. And what I'll do will require concentration."

The forest was immense, and more dense than the party anticipated. The well traveled road became more narrow; from a bumbling path that several carriages could travel comfortably together, into something more akin to hiking paths that had been left for nature to reclaim. The bird sung a lovely song in the air; a cacophony of chirps while other critters rustled in the bushes; A squirrel hopping onto the path, only to stop and stare at the oncoming group - Wisp huffing and flaring her nose. "Tree-rats..."

Arabella could see the confusion growing on Deadwatltz's face at her lack of noticing the insult. The truth was, she did know that it was an insult, it was just a matter of disregarding it. “Well, Deadwaltz, I was pleased seeing you here too, and I'm glad that despite your not being on the list that you decided to join us on our humble expedition. Unfortunately, there are more than a few of these bad omens about, though I do not yet know where they point.” The halfling's happy spirit didn't seem to diminish as the party made their way deeper into the forest. On the contrary, she seemed to not mind any of the others in the party, including the dark mage who she had exchanged unpleasant words with the night before. She was determined to make this quest a success, and if the dark mage was willing to teach her apprentice a thing or two, she would be all the better for it. Not all magic was light, and the same went for fire magics. When used wrong, it could become as dark as the black magic. Kastivi needed to see. The last thing she needed was protection.

Kastivi shifted her pack on her shoulders. It was a heavy pack, but she knew that as the journey wore on it would get lighter. Food rations, after all, were finite and her load would lessen as they were consumed. Her spirits, unlike her master, were low, and it took all of her concentration to make sure that she kept lifting her weight laden ankles high enough that each step wouldn't drag. Feet dragging soon became an impossibility as the trail grew narrower, less maintained. She wondered idly who it was that created this path, and what business they had in the forest, or if it would eventually dwindle down to nothing. Merchants would obviously have a tough time getting through here, and she expected that one the other side (if indeed there was one) there would be a completely different culture. She'd seen that before, once, when crossing the mountains. Two very different peoples separated by some geologic divider would have two completely different mindsets despite a close proximity. She smiled up at the knight, “I won't get stronger if I am handheld through it all, now will I? I feel like that is something you know well by now.”

Percival clamped his mouth shut. Deadwaltz was right, of course, despite how crude she was. But then, the truest of words are often spoken by the least educated of minds and her lack of eloquence made her no less intelligent. He'd seen her action before, and there was no denying her talent. “Alright, alright. I was merely proposing a cease fire, was all.” Even as he said this, his hand was going back to his flask so he could take one last swig before placing the precious liquid back in its place on his hip. “Then, I eagerly await your conclusion, sir knight-in-training.”

“I cannot give her anymore than she has herself. I can watch the confrontation and come to her aid if things get dire, if that is suggested, but this is a field I know little about,” Arabella answered, somewhat baffled at her animosity towards squirrels. Ara saw them as harmless, and occasionally, fun to watch. The creature had to be given some credit for living this long in a forest infested with monsters.

Deadwaltz's trodding along became more concise and the woman's face drew to something more akin to a serious, determined look on her face. Waltz had always hated forests, even up north where the pines surrounded villages. It was the perfect tool for things to hide in, and as much as Deadwaltz would hate to admit, the barbarian was on too many bad ends of an ambush to care to remember. Each time it was an atrocious affair and she was pulling arrows out of her body. "...Ah was supposed to be on the list. Did they not add me?" Waltz huffed. Typical Midlanders. "Ah'll just have to clobber the clerkboy then. Good thing ah like bashing things more than the money for bashing." Pointing towards one of the rocks, Waltz looked at Arabella. "Ah hope the omens don't mean anything. Ah ain't cut out for omens and prophecies and that. Gods can shove themselves in the ass. Ah go mah own way."

Christoval's trek finally became something more akin to a challenge; the boy weaving and ducking through bush, as not to get his bags stuck in the thick of everything. The boy's trot became an awkward dance through the forest and finally, Christoval decided on trying to offer the weights back to Arabella. "I need to make sure our stuff isn't spilled out, would you mind?" He pleaded, finally looking over to Kastivi and giving her a nod. "I'm just trying to be my chivalrous self is all. I understand what you mean though." He beamed, wiping a glistening brow with his arm and exhaling. Sweat soaked into his eyes and made them a shade of pink, and his cloak was becoming hotter and hotter with each step. Still, he had to press on. "Gonna be a sore night, that's for sure." He mused to himself with a small chuckle.

Situation defused with Percival, Christoval did his best to ignore the Healer for now. His presence was irking, and the constant slugging of alcohol was a problem and he knew it. He had seen what happened to militia men who had to be on the field and were either sloshed, or recuperating for it, and it usually ended with farmers digging ditches for them. Mustering the courage to speak out, Christoval decided to address is. "Would you prefer water, sir? Alcohol diminishes the soul.

"I wouldn't wanna taint your soul with forbidden knowledge. Your goddess would frown on that, would she not?" Wisp teased, looking towards the Halfling and smirking. Harmless banter, but she had yet to get under the mentor's skin today. That began anew on this moment. For now her attention was on the squirrel, and snapping her fingers, the Dark Mage sent a bolt of sickly purple energy towards the squirrel, which prompted it to retreat into the woods.

Kastivi always liked the forests they'd traveled through, despite the dangers they presented. The southern nations had trees, if you could call them that, but never like this, never with trees ancient enough to have been able to bear witness to the wars of eld. To her, each tree represented a miracle, something ancient and living and persevering. She'd be like the trees herself. She'd last through anything if it meant even sheltering her friends from the winds. Casting a glance to Christoval, she bit back the faintest of smiles. Yes, I will fight my hardest for them...

Arabella fumbled in her breast pocket for a moment and brought out the list. She wasn't sure why she still had it, honestly, but here she could show the barbarian, “Here it is. Again, I'm glad you're here despite some dunderhead at the guild hall.” Ara knew in her heart of hearts that with Deadwaltz there the party had an even higher chance of survival. Of them all, she probably had the most kills under her belt, but then, diplomacy didn't seem to be one of her strong suits. “Let's call for a brief break,” Ara answered the knight, “It's my turn for the weights, and it'll give Kastivi a well-earned break.” The girl grinned and sighed with relief as they came to a standstill and she crouched down to unfasten the weights, promptly handing them over to Arabella who put them in her pack.

“Well, you seem to be well on your way to becoming the most excellent of knights,” Kastivi said with a slight blush, keeping her eyes on the ground. “Yeah I'll say. Weight day is never easy on the legs.”

“It's not meant to be,” Ara chimed in, grinning.

“My soul is already gone, given to all the greedy adventurers over the years, kid. But fine, I'll save it for camp if you're that set on seeing me miserable,” Percival grumbled situating his flask back at his hip and pulling out his canteen. He took off the lid and held it out for Christoval to smell if he so chose, “It's water, see?”

“Actually, not our goddess. She encourages interdisciplinary learning. It's the only reason I know the two healing spells I know. Admittedly, I pursued fire-dancing more fervently than any other discipline, so I know less than I should,” Ara answered bluntly, acknowledging the attempt and promptly brushing it off as she watched the squirrel skitter back into the underbrush, “I actually greatly encourage it for my apprentice, so long as she doesn't get hurt.”

"Ah hope it was just people being dumb at the guildhall. I coulda killed trolls to help the people, you know? Not that ah don't think what you are doing isn't helpful, yes?" Deadwaltz said with a small shrug.

A rest was welcomed by just about everyone it seemed, and the moment Arabella called for one, Deadwaltz took to finding a tree she deemed somewhat safe, and dropped herself onto the cold ground with a small smile; the large woman pulling the two swords from her back and examining them; only to lick a finger and polish a smudge from the more decorated of the blades. She could overlook the rest of the party in this spot for herself, and if something did decide to show up and harm them? She could act first and start the hue and cry for battle. While she cleaned maintained her weapons, the woman sang to herself, rocking her head from side to side with her own little beat.

Who shall sing to me?
Into the Death-Sleep sling me?
When ah walk the Path of Death,
And the tracks ah tread are cold, so cold...

Christoval prayed to whatever deity decided to coerce the mentors into letting them rest, and the weights were waved away and handed to the halfling, Christoval sucking in an incredible amount of air when he could lower the two bags and take a moment to rest for himself, the young knight looking over towards Kastivi with a cherry-colored face and giving her a small thumbs-up. "I do it all for everyone here. I'd carry all of you, and all of your stuff if it meant we all came back safe." He gasped out, taking in a few more bits of air. Finally mustering up the energy to reply to Percival with a bit of a stern glare. "I don't ask for your soul, sir. I just want to make sure our healer's mind isn't foggy. I don't want you to have to live with the guilt of being the reason of us lies dead on the ground." his voice was blunt and irritated, and the young knight's fists clenched while he moved in to sniff the canteen. "Prove you're saving it then. Give the flask to me."

"Healing. I have tried several times to attempt to heal people. It does not work well with my line of magic. At least in the terms of comfort it is supposed to bring." Wisp replied with a shrug of her shoulders, before lifting up a bit of cloth covering her arm to reveal a small mess of scar tissue along her upper arm. "The Devils below view healing as a punishment. It it supposed to hurt because you failed to not get hit." She explained haphazardly, her eyes craning towards Christoval and Percival. Crossing her arms over her chest, Wisp multitasked the babysitting and conversing with Arabella. "...And if she gets tempted into joining my line of work?" Wisp asked, pursing her lips. "Hells below. She's too innocent for what the trade-offs are."

Arabella laughed, shaking her head, “Yes, this is important and I'm sure there's a reason you're with us. We'll see what that is when we get to where we're going. Those goblins aren't going to kill themselves, and I can think of none better suit to do it for them.” Arabella took the weights from Kastivi and fastened them to her own ankles, putting the other set on her shoulders so as not to upset her back and throw off the balance. After all, someone had to carry them when they weren't being used by another person.

Kastivi sat down where she was, finding a nice rock to rest her weary haunches and reached for her toes. Ara would be pleased to see her stretching in between her workouts, but she wasn't about to call attention to it; she wanted to go without weights as long as possible. Still, she could feel a bit of guilt well up in her chest. Both sets of weights went to the halfling any time they weren't in use. Truly, her strength went further than she'd bother to say, but then, she knew that even those to a person like Deadwaltz were probably nill. Arabella sat down beside Deadwaltz and watched her sharpen her swords as she sang. Soon, her voice joined Deadwaltz's in a harmony, letting Waltz take the melody:

I sought the songs
I sent the songs
when the deepest well
gave me the drops so touched
of Death-fathers wager...

Kastivi blinked. She'd heard Ara sing before, but she never expected her to know the words that the barbarian sang, especially considering the references to gods she'd never worshiped, let alone mentioned. Kastivi colored, glancing down, “I would do the same, again and again. And I know you and I are not the only ones to share that sentiment.” She wiped some sweat from her brow before leaning back, propping herself up by locked wrists, “I truly believe that this expedition is going to be a success. Who knows, we might even get to see a step closer to peace.”

“I have nothing to prove to you, apprentice knight. Tell you what, if you can tell me of a single adventurer that has died within the past five years under my care, I will give it to you,” Percival said, narrowing his eyes at said knight. “Be grateful it is I and not your mentor doing the healing. I don't punish you for taking hits, her healing does. Not that I see anything wrong with it if it gets the job done.”

Deadwaltz flashed a small smile back towards Arabella, teeth just poking out from her lips as she snickered and mimicked the motions of twisting a greenskin's head's from it's torso, making the "Spllllrrrkzzzt." Noise that came with removing muscle and flesh from a mass of living being, albeit in a more cartoonish fashion. "Ah'm sure your apprentices could do the job on their lonesome. They walked this far without whining too much or quitting. It's us old people calling for the break, am ah not wrong?" She grinned, nodding her head towards the young knight and the daughter-to-be. "In months they'll be better than all of us, no?"

Wisp looked over towards the two singing, and drifted herself over towards the little duo, keeping her eyes closed and just taking in the melody between the halfling and the barbarian. It was invigorating, even though the topic of their keening was a bit on the morose side. Tapping her foot in beat with the two, the Dark Mage added her own voice to the group; ethereal tone haunting and adding an angelic hint into the harmony, all the while Deadwaltz continuing her song with a bit more fervor.

Cattle die, kinsmen die.
You yourself will also die.
But the deeds about you will never die,
If you win a good reputation...

Christoval watched the now-trio of ladies lamenting their woes in song and puffed his cheeks, rubbing the back of his head and turning towards Kastivi. It certainly wasn't a song he would have heard in the fields with a plow, but music was a welcome addition to the trek. Pouring sweat himself, Christoval used the hem of his shirt and tugged it upwards to soak some of his own fluids away, and let out a deep, heavy breath. "And when we get back we can celebrate and convince the mentors to have a bit of leeway in the following day. I know if I manage to make Wisp a bit pleased, she tends to let me get away with murder. The non-literal kind. Though I feel like she'd let me get away with actual murder. Not that I would do that." He said, stammering and grinning like a loon. "I talk my thoughts out too much, sorry."

The conversation with Percival was taking a nastier twist, and Christoval's eyes locked on the man; icy hues narrowed and a stern, unamused look on his face casting a rather serious, matured note on an otherwise youthful knightly prospect. "You have everything to prove. You're claiming you're the best, and you're acting like a healer in his last verges of life. Like I said, prove it. Hand the flask over if it isn't such a bother." Christoval's nose flaired and the young man puffed himself up, ready to move towards the man before a loud crack, followed by a plume of sulfurous smoke erupted between the two - Wisp standing there with hellfire for eyes that burned towards Christoval, and then towards Percy.

"I'll punish you both if you don't shut both of your mouths. The next word out of either of you better be compliments, or I'll get the 'Get-Along' Shackles and make you both march in them." Waving Christoval away, who moved back towards his bags with a bit of grumbling, Wisp set herself on Percival, moving in closer to the man.

"And if you keep harassing my boy, when I send you to Hell myself, the ones who are going to escort you to damnation are gonna be friends of my Patron. He owes me a favor, and I'm more than willing to waste it on your damnation for harassing my apprentice. I have enough trouble with the Guild with apprentices as it is. And I know no one will believe me if Sir Percival refused to heal my dying knight." Wisp growled, extending her hand. "Your flask. Now -I- need a drink for you two ruining my walk."

The halfling sat down on a rock that was jutting into the path, glad for the rest on her feet and wishing that she'd taken the first shift with the weights. She couldn't help but laught with Deadwaltz's impression, finding it all the more funny with the fact that it wasn't too much of an exaggeration in the barbarian's case. “I'm certain they could. I know Kastivi is more than capable, and my hopes are high for our young knight as well, but I fear they wouldn't be half as entertaining as you, Waltz,” Ara mused, pulling out a piece of bread looking stuff wrapped in a leaf. She broke it and handed over a part of it to Waltz, “It's pretty tasty, and we can do with the added strength it'll give us to have something in our bellies.”

Wisp's addition to their little chorus was a happy one, and Arabella didn't miss a beat as she proceeded to raise her voice with the two other women, repeating the last verse one last time:

Cattle die, kinsmen die.
You yourself will also die.
But the deeds about you will never die,
If you win a good reputation....

Saying when they finished, “And we will build that reputation with this mission with our success.” She gave a resolute nod. Kastivi didn't know the song, but it was beautiful nonetheless and she wished that more parties would sing more. Excepting herself of course. She was tone deaf and couldn't sing to save her life. But, she could whistle, and if it got too quiet she would do just that.

Percival returned that icy glare but was grateful when his master chased him away before he had a chance to retort. The entire argument felt childish and he wished the annoying apprentice knight would leave him alone. “If you were paying attention, you'd see that he started bothering me. I don't see that it's his business what I do so long as I'm successful when I do it. And I always am,” Percival retorted, half spitting the last words out. “So long as I am alive to heal your precious apprentice, I will,” he muttered handing over his flask, “Don't drink too much of it or you're going to have a very upset white mage. Peh. I don't see him bothering you about drink...”

Waltz latched onto the bread with a clumsy attempt at being dainty, looking at the bit of bread and stuffing her face with reckless abandon. Smacking her lips and brushing crumbs off of her chest, the Barbarian raised a brow and itched her backside; the woman adjusting her rear and shifting her weight from one side to the other. "It's not meat, but ah like the bread. Tastes like goodness and farms. If that makes sense." She beamed, eyes moving over towards the younger two. "Ah wish ah still had the same innocence those two have too. Ah miss being so naive. Ah wanna see the world anew again sometimes, yeah? And then bash everything like ah did the first time." Waltz added in, snickering and looking to the halfling. "...Yah might wanna step a bit back. This sword doesn't like magic. And Ah don't want it hurting you, but ah gotta clean it or he gets pissier than a starving owlbear."

With the song ending, Waltz wriggled in place. It was a somber song, but then again, there was little to have joy in when it came to the matters in the North. It was a struggle for live in such a frozen rock, and even the slightest error could have been fatal. Waltz, snorted. It was probably why everyone was so bitter and accepting of fate up there. Unlocking the magic blade at her lap, the woman pulled out the gleaming blade; and beginning to polish it - The woman immune to the fact when the blade was drawn, the sword let out an almost overwhelming, palpable aura of fury and rage for the magic-wielders in the area; Waltz humming like a loon and giving the sword a small bit of polish.

Scowling and muttering under his breath, Christoval began to rummage through his own pack, pulling out a meal ration and splitting it open; the younger knight breaking a chunk of tack biscuit and stuffing it into his mouth. When you don't have anything nice to say, just stuff your mouth with food. He could hear his mother's lecturing about people like Percival in his head, and while the man was both an elder, and the party's sole healer, there was something about him that didn't stick with Christoval. Healers aren't normally this...This haggardly, right?

Wisp glowered at Percival, brushing a tuft of onyx hair behind pallid ears as she snapped her fingers; a set of spectral, purple-hued shackles emerging in her hands. Just a bit of show of course, but each excuse sputtering out of the healer's mouth was another minute Wisp thought about plunging something sharp into both of them as a lesson. Zero Tolerance. "You think I care about who started this whole argument? The boy is simply looking out for everyone, including yourself. If you weren't so enamored with poisoning your liver, you would see that." Taking the flask, Wisp raised a brow at Percival, and unstopped the Flask, taking a few drops and rubbing it in the back of her mouth. "...I have a sore tooth. I'm numbing it, and he knows that." She spat back at Percival, capping the flask and shoving it back towards the healer. "Continue being so sour, and you'll have to tend to a very upset Dark Mage. I'll keep Christoval from you if needed. But your mood is irritating. Stop it."

Arabella succeeded in being dainty as she proceeded to break the loaf several more times, passing the pieces to the various members of the party. The adventuring life was for her, and nothing pleased her more than a short snack rest and looking forward to the rest of the day on her feet. The sights, the sounds of the wild were enticing for her. It was her main reason for leaving her comfy hole in pursuit of an education – an education that took place in the world of tall folk. She'd managed just fine, and succeeded despite her size. “It makes perfect sense, Waltz. This is the remnants of the bread that was given to me from the ranger of our last expedition. To me, it tastes like campfire and nights under the stars on the plains.” Arabella got to her feet, the second the sword was drawn she could feel it, so she moved to the other side of the camp.

Kastivi could feel it, too, and she knew why Ara moved away. She was glad she was this far away from the sword. Waltz spoke of it like it was a sentient being, and Kastivi wouldn't be surprised if that's what it was. She'd heard of weaponry of that nature before, but she knew that they were rare if they existed at all. “So where is it exactly that we're going? Is it far from here or close by?” she finally asked after recuperating from the initial shock of the aura of the sword. “I won't complain either way, but I'd like to know what kind of weather we'll be facing,” Kastivi said, laughing.

“Does it really matter to you, Kas? I've seen you travel through blizzards in nothing more than the garb you have now, and you were no worse for the wear,” Arabella said, snorting. It was true, too. Where other Daughters had to work to summon their energy, Kastivi was the exception. Her training consisted of repression rather than the actual summoning and she seemed far more comfortable in cold climates than she did in warm ones. She wondered how she lasted as long as she did in the southern nations.

Percival took his share of the loaf with a smile and a nod. After all, it wasn't Arabella that seemed to have it out for him. Turning back to Wisp, however, he took back his flask and put it back on his belt. He didn't drink from it, however, and he noted that she of course turned to her apprentice (who seemed to already hate him) for confirmation. Like hells he was going to turn to that twerp – unless he was going to heal him. He wasn't about to let his streak of no dead adventurers come to an end just because some self-righteous prick decided to piss him off. “That's fine, I can keep to myself,” he grumbled, taking a seat just off the path and opening one of his books, retrieving a quill and ink well from his breast pocket.

Christoval looked towards the rest of the group while they were moving away from Waltz and her weapon, the boy oblivious to any stirrings coming from the blade, though he quickly moved over to take the offered bit of bread from Arabella, offering her in turn a chunk of the jerky he was eating. "Doesn't taste like campfires and warm nights, but it makes it seem like you've swallowed a rock, and keeps you from being hungry over long treks." He said, smiling and sighing; the boy shaking his snowtop of a mane. "I just wanna get this job over with, I don't trust out healer." He muttered to himself, collapsing onto his rear and staring upwards at the sky.

Deadwaltz grunted and lifted the blade for a moment, letting it shine in the sunlight before she seemed satisfied, the barbarian sighing and shrugging her shoulders. "Yah, yah, sword. Murder everyone here. Bathe in the mage blood. Yah gotta start looking at things differently. They can be yah friends and free yahself, if you weren't so keen on killing all'a mah friends." She replied to the weapon, scrunching her face up and shoving the blade back in its sheathe, and then moving to keep the weapon locked back in place. "Yah should ask Wisp. She knows this place like the back of her hand." Deadwaltz huffed, nodding towards the Dark Mage.

Wisp hissed a little at the Barbarian, who snarled back and laughed before she fixed eyes on Kastivi and shrugged her shoulders. "This time of year, it will be chilly in the morning, and blistering while the sun is up in the Noon. You might as well just dress to stay cool, and endure the brunt of the chill." The last bit seemed to be aimed towards Christoval, her nose flaring and the Dark Mage motioning a hand towards the young knight. "As you can see, my protege is going to die in the sun from the amount he is sweating," She added, "Christoval, if you didn't get the hint, I meant for you to take off your cloak. Now."

"Yes ma'am."

Back on the assault of Percival's precious liquor, Wisp snorted and watched the man act so impishly, before moving to follow him to his seat, the Dark Mage Bending at the waist so she was eye level with him; Wisp leaning in close and pecking the tip of his nose with her lips. "You're cute when you're irritated." She mentioned with an offhanded gesture, before moving back towards the rest of the group, hand up to cover the grin along her face while she side-eyed a puzzled looking Christoval.

“You don't trust our healer?” Arabella asked, cocking an eyebrow and gratefully taking the jerky, promptly tearing off a bite. Of course she left her voice low so as to avoid any unwanted ears, but the surprise couldn't be hidden, “You know he's renowned for what he does, right? The pool of healers, admittedly, isn't large, but of them he's by far the biggest fish. We're fortunate to have him with us you know.” Arabella shrugged and tossed her head in the direction of the man they were speaking of, turning her eyes toward Christoval, “If you're talking about the drink, I disapprove as well. But his magic is effective and he hasn't let anyone die since, well? Long enough that I don't remember. He might have been green then.”

Arabella turned her attention to the barbarian who was a suitable distance from her, sighing with the relief the moment the sword was sheathed. She wasn't alone in that relief either. Kastivi and Percival felt it as well, more at ease without the threat of that thing tearing through their flesh. “Mm, I'll make it a point to walk with her then when we're back on the road,” she mused, tapping her chin. “Kastivi and my own adventures haven't led us through these parts often.”

Kastivi laced her fingers behind her head and looked back at the branches that hung over head, reveling in the soft breeze wafting through their leaves, “All the better then, I think. I prefer the cold. After adventuring further in the north, I don't know how I ever survived in the South. It feels less heavy, makes you feel more alive, doesn't it?” Wisp's threats earlier were still heavy on Kastivi's mind, but again, she was eager to make more friends than enemies, and she was clever enough to know that Wisp was not an enemy she could take. At least, certainly not yet. She laughed, “Christoval, you should listen to your Master. They often give valuable advice.”

Percival didn't expect to be followed. Judging from the goody two-shoes knight he was going to be dealing with, he assumed he might as well be traveling as a solitary pedestrian. The Dark Mage bending at the waist in front of him taking him off guard. The first thing he saw (though unintentionally) was cleavage, though his eyes only stayed there for a split second before he realized what he was looking at and he turned his gaze up to her eyes. It was in this moment that he felt her lips on his nose, his cheeks immediately turning a dark shade of crimson. “C-cute?” he asked, but she had already turned to head back to the rest of the group. Tugging at his collar and straightening his hat, he resumed his writing. He was on a very different kind of high now.

"I don't trust alcoholics. They have a habit of mucking something up, no matter how well reknowned or skillful they are. Sooner or later the poison has a habit of doing what it does well. Getting people killed." Christoval replied, before shaking his head. The boy didn't even know most of the people he had been signed to venture with, and save for Wisp, would have assumed most of them weren't any sort of major figure in the guild. Keeping his tone muffled enough to converse with Arabella in silence, Christoval huffed. "Someone's reputation shouldn't let them be able to do what they want. This is coming from someone who hasn't even begun a path to being an actual knight."

"Well if yah do, then don't ask her too much about some of the places. If she's super short is usually means she's sensitive about whatever she is griping about. It's something ah picked up real quick working with her." Deadwaltz replied, puffing her chest out and then inhaling harshly through her nose, only to spit out a wad of phlegm onto the ground. "Well yah should count yourself lucky. Ah know some chiefs or lords or whatever yah call them are squabbling. Means at some point people are gonna start arming up and killing each other. When they could be killing monsters that eat them."

Waltz looked over to Kastivi and grinned like a loon. "Now yah are talking sense! The cold is the best. Tests you. Makes you work harder to stay warm. It's why ah like it. Ah used to swim in the deep bits of snow naked all the time when I was younger. Mah dad stopped that when he told me snow sharks would bite mah ass. Never went in snow again. And then ah learned there were no snow sharks when ah tried mah hand in the guilds the first time."

Christoval grunted and set about taking off his cloak, letting the arquebus on his back into display; the blackpowder weapon dangling and jingling. Tucking the garment into his bag, the young knight looked over to Kastivi and smiled, "I am not sure what invaluable lesson I have learned from hearing about what parts of Wisp's feet are sore and where to rub, but I see what you mean." Snickering his face turned over to watch Wisp bending over to kiss Percival, his face going pink. (Percival got to see her chest. Christoval's eyes got the backside.) "I err...Well, I mean, something has gotten to come from it, right? The foot rubs I mean not...You weren't paying attention to me, yeah? Nevermind, drop it."

With her seeds planted, Wisp perched herself in her own little spot, pulling out a set of stones from a pouch at her side and placing them on the ground, moving each one with meticulous precison, though it seemed each stone was moved at random, until she plucked one up and squinted at it, grunting to herself and tucking them all away. "Grey stone. Great. The dead are telling me of bad comings."

Arabella's face softened and she leaned forward, toying with the jerky in her fingers, “You talk like someone with experience in that field. I won't push you to tell me, but I do agree. It isn't right. People do die. Be glad he's not drinking now.” Her eyes went back to Percival, though only for a moment. He was there, book in one hand, quill in the other. She wouldn't be surprised if he was preparing extra spells for the day. If his reputation preceded him, the drink caused him to almost over-do it, bracing himself for the worst. But Ara didn't buy it. If he did, it was because he was a cynic of some sort. The drink was good for two things: numbness and forgetfulness; he was more than likely using it for both. “This coming from a man beyond his years,” Ara mused, taking a bite from her jerky and kicking her weighted feet.

“It's good to take a note on, indeed,” Ara said, almost wishing she could. It was best to be aware of members in your party. Weaknesses, after all, she could only make up for if she knew them, and one could only know to fall back on a teammate in strength if the teammate was made aware of her own. “I'll be sure to keep it geography related, if possible.” Ara plopped the rest of the jerky into her mouth, chewing with a thoughtful expression, “It seems everyone is always fighting at the expense of the poor and powerless when we would all be the better if we could just get our heads out our asses and make peace.”

Kastivi beamed back, happy to have someone who wasn't scowling at her perpetually talking to her. She stood up and stretched, arms reaching as high as they would go and stood on her tip toes, “I'm glad someone has good sense on this expedition. Can't say that I've ever gone swimming in the snow in the nude, but I can say that I've enjoyed a breathlessly cold night or two. And, it's probably a good thing there are no such thing as snow sharks. There'd be no adventurers in the north anymore. We'd all be dead.” She laughed; the thought of each of the party dying in the jowls of something like a snow shark was humorous despite its morbidity.

Kastivi blinked seeing the long powder-packed barrle on Christoval's back and stopped herself from touching it. She'd never seen one before and she lowered her hand laughing sheepishly when the knight's attention was on her, “I'm sure she's taught you more than that...hasn't she?” Kastivi looked down, fiddling with her hands and barely noticed Percival's looking away to the healer and dark mage's exchange, and didn't see it herself, “No, no...I was paying attention to you. I'm just... sorry that you don't think she's helping you much.” She spoke in barely a whisper, “Maybe we could help you train. You'll be going against mages at some point anyway, right?”

Percival glanced up from his book every so often and hearing Wisp's voice over the din, he now looked to her, “The dead? What do they say?” Percival knew better than to disregard a black mage and their dealings with the dead. Nine out of ten times they were right and should have been listened to. He'd been on several expeditions that would have ended much sooner than they did had they simply listened to black mage. When one was speaking of bad omens? He'd have to be extra ready.

"Not so much firsthand experience, as I've heard stories in the guildhall. People who got sloshed before an easy job. Next thing you know what you planned to face isn't actually the thing bothering you, and it gets the group mangled and failing the guild's mission it sent them on." Christoval replied, venom and irritation in his voice. Casting a peek towards the man and then towards Arabella, Christoval's face soured even more. "If he ends up getting someone harmed and I smell a hint of juniper in his breath, I'll...I'll reprimand him myself. Especially if...Well..." He droned off and looked over to Kastivi. "I just don't wanna see people I like get hurt because of stupidity."

"If yah want yah can also talk to Wisp about demons. She likes talking about them a lot too. Mostly because she knows ah got locked up in Hell for a month, and knows ah think she ain't crazy for knowing all ah that." Waltzed added in, hiking a massive thigh up and scratching underneath, only to pull a small beetle from her skin and flick it into the woods. "Ah mean, not that ah wish for it, but if yah got some Elves or Greenies invading, it'd probably get your asses in gear, yah?"

Waltz then inched towards Kastivi, still chuckling, and gave her a couple of nudges in the rib with her elbow. The dark-skinned southlander was a snow lover? Something she didn't expect at all. "Yah sure you don't have a little bit a Northerner in yahself? People down here hate the snow. Pansies." Waltz said, cracking herself up and rubbing her face with a oil-coated hand. "Yah should go swimming nekkid in the snow, if so yah knight person oogles you more. And he can defend you against the snow sharks." Waltz said, waggling her eyebrows and nudging her once again. Those two were so cute. And she liked the sound of Aunty Deadwaltz.

Noting the young pyromancer's glances at his arquebus, Christoval unslung it from his back and offered it towards Kastivi so she could examine it more intensely, the knight shrugging his shoulders. "Put black powder and a metal ball in the tube, use a spark to launch the ball like a sling." He said, putting it's use in layman's terms and grinning at her question. "I get more educational lectures than I do any martial training. I mean, Wisp has a weapon, she just doesn't have the skill needed to really teach me anything combat related." He sighed, before thanking the gods his small bout of staring at his master's bits went unnoticed. "I have to give her credit though. I know enough about magic to at least know what might be coming my way and how to defend against it. That's about it. If you wanna help train, I won't say no."

Wisp blinked a few times, Percival's voice bringing her slightly back into tune with the living. Yawning the dark mage shrugged her shoulders and snorted. "Evil things in the woods. I guess we have more eyes on us than just goblins I suppose. You know the dead. They speak in riddles and like to torment the living sometimes with cryptic nonsense." It was almost theatrical how a cold wind blew in front of the dark mage, the woman rolling her eyes at the timing before looking to the rest of the group. "Should we continue? At the very least we can make it to the monastery and not have to worry about camping in the dark with shadows looming over us all."

Arabella followed Christoval's gaze, first during the threat toward Percival, then to Kastivi as the topic went to more tender grounds. She raised her eyebrows, “By people, do you mean Kas?” She chuckled, shaking her head and stood up to put a hand on his shoulder, “I'm not going to stop you. Just, don't let her fall for you only to go off and die, alright? Fight hard, but fight safe. I take it Wisp has been training you enough to know to watch the battlefield closely? To read your opponents?” She shifted her weighted feet and sighed, “I'm thinking we should probably be off. Those goblins aren't going to slay themselves, after all!”

“I fear my knowledge in demons is a bit lacking,” Arabella said tapping her chin and looking at the barbarian, “Perhaps if she is willing to speak of it in layman's terms, I might ask her about that as well.” Never one to turn down an opportunity to learn, Ara put the idea in the back of her mind for later use. She didn't want to cut her conversation short with Waltz, so it was going to have to wait. She'd have plenty of opportunity later.

Kastivi jumped, hardly expecting anyone to be in her bubble at that moment but immediately burst into a smile when she saw it was Waltz. “I ah...suppose I can't be too sure, but both of my parents looked like Southerners, at any rate. But I don't think I could ever hate the snow. It's too peaceful to hate, really. That and the heat just feels...heavy, if you know what I mean.” Kastivi blinked, wondering what it was that Deadwaltz was doing, but came to the conclusion that that was just part of who she was and it was best not to question those sorts of things. She laughed and shook her head, “But if there are no snow sharks, then his job would be too easy, wouldn't it?”

Kastivi took the weapon in her hands. It was heavier than she thought it would be, her hands dipping down when the full weight was on her. Wooden in parts, metal in parts, and smooth, it was hard to believe that if wielded properly this thing could kill people. “Like a sling? And black powder? It sounds...unusual. But it works like a sling that is much harder that you don't actually have to sling, right? If the rumors are true, anyway. It propels it out of that hole at the end?” She was so curious about the spark and where it came from, but she handed it back to Christoval in a hurry. After all, anything that required a spark in her hands was more than likely to go off. “Her skills are in other areas, so that makes sense. Your skills would be predominantly against dark mages then I suppose. They're dangerous, so I'm sure that knowledge will be useful in the future.”

“Unfortunately,” Percival said, looking up from his book and shutting it, having heard Ara just moments before, “My business is with the nearly dead, rather than the dead. Less cryptic and more moaning in some sort of agony. Once they pass that threshold though, I can't say that I know as much.” He put his book in his pack and stood, stretching. “I think we should. We've given the younglings enough time to rest.”

Christoval was had, and he couldn't help but snicker and grin like a sheepish loon when Arabella managed to hit the nail on the head of love, the younger knight nodding a few times and sighing. "Am I that obvious? Darn, I thought I was hiding it a lot better than I thought I was I guess." He grunted for a second and looked over towards the diminuative hand on his shoulder before nodding a few times. "I don't plan on dying. I have to become a knight first. Or a Paladin. And Wisp drilled me relentlessly on watching the battlefield and such. If you want, the next time we rest for good, I'd be happy to show you what I can do. I'd even go against Waltz!" He laughed, looking over to the large woman and then regretting his bravado when she glared at him, eyes wide and a giant toothy smile that only seemed to resemble a wild animal.

"Word of Advice. Don't deal with demons, Arabella. It's more trouble than it's worth." Wisp sniped in really quickly, before turning her focus elsewhere, leaving the Barbarian woman to nod and huff. "Ah'll take you on, but if ah win, yah gotta wash mah ass when ah bathe." Waltz replied towards the young knight, flexing an arm with biceps nearly the side of Arabella herself, and winked at the Halfling before addressing Kastivi. "Well, if yah do have Northerner in yahself, it ain't showing. Yah look as southern as Percival looks miserable. Ah! Yah right, it would be too easy. Ah hope it's not just goblins. Ah ain't gonna get a proper workout if it's the little runts."

Christoval nodded, and looked towards Kastivi her confusion and doubt prompting the boy to begin the arduous process of loading the arquebus one he snagged it back from her. First there was a bit of primer that was loaded down the barrel, followed by a small bit of the black, sulfurous powder he had mentioned, before Christoval fumbled on his person for a round for the arquebus. "Yeah, you're right. It's really strong. A lot stronger than a sling, but easy enough to use. When it's not wet. Or jammed. It's a sensitive weapon, but it'll put a hole through just about anything. Lemme show you!" Christoval said, before frowning and shaking his head. "Oh no, nevermind, I only have a few arquebus rounds left...I'll keep it primed at least though." He grumbled, "Hm? Oh, I mean, Dark Mage practice is tough, but it does blend a little bit of others in there. Hellfire is still fire nonetheless, so I feel like I can deal with pyromancy with a bit of decency."

Wisp gave Percival a deadpan look, and shrugged her shoulders at the healer. "The nearly dead are worse than ghosts. At least I can stop chanting and the dead stop blurting things out. I have to put a dagger in the nearly dead to make them stop." Back on her feet, the Dark Mage arched her back and yawned, and then sighed gently. "I would kill someone or throw them on an alter to be able to ride a horse now. Christoval. Leaves the bags. I'm making you run to build endurance."

Back on his feet, Christoval turned and cocked his head at Wisp, before his eyes went wide and he shook his head. "No. Nono. Not this again. At least give me a few seconds of a head start!"

"One...Two..."

And almost as if he teleported, the young knight began to foot it in their direction, Wisp chuckled and looking towards Arabella. "He has about ten seconds before I summon a hellhound with the instructions to fetch him. It's amusing. I can carry the baggage."

Arabella took a gamble in her assumption, but the odds were on her side, and she knew she had him as his cheeks turned crimson. “Yes, you might be, but I think in this instance it will work in your favor. Kastivi is clueless in those matters – she'll need it spelled out for her if you catch what I'm saying.” The halfling's eyes were shining, “So long as you stay true to your word, you have my approval.” She leaned forward so she could whisper without outside ears nosing in, “Do you intend to pursue?” His will to live was heartening. She wondered if that was a constant for him or if it had to be learned, like Kastivi. When she'd first found her apprentice, her apprentice expressed for many nights that she wished Ara had let them kill her. After Ara got after her for saying it out loud, she could see it painted on her face. Arabella had gone through...different...measures with Kastivi than she had with the others. She taught her to see the beauty of a flower, no longer crisping at the edges with her learned repression. She taught her the names of constellations, the myths that went with them. She told her of the Old Gods, the New Gods, of wars of eld, of how good always prevailed. Of how Kastivi was good. Of how Kastivi would prevail. “Oh, you are brave, ser knight!” Arabella exclaimed clapping her hands together. “Very well, the entertainment can begin when we make camp for the night. For the time being though, we should get moving. There is only so much daylight in a day, after all.”

Arabella jumped, not expecting the voice of the black mage behind her in her ear, and she did her best to hide her agitation, “Very well then, I'll not ask about them.” She mustered a chuckle, though this seemed slightly less sincere than those that she'd had in jest with Christoval. The words spoken at the inn were not forgotten it seemed, but they were forgiven. “What say you, knight? You ready to take that gamble?” She looked back at Waltz just in time to see the wink, her cheeks coloring though she wasn't entirely sure why.

“I don't think any Northerners are insane enough to stay in the Southern Nations long enough to sire a babe, let alone one as dark as I am,” Kastivi said with a shrug, “I am just in awe more people don't enjoy the snow. It's magical.” She sighed happily, looking up as if at the skies, as if she'd see clouds with the first hints of those pristine ice crystals, her gaze meeting instead only the interlaced branches of the forest above their heads. Her attention turned to the knight all too readily – she hoped she did not look too eager. “Well, I don't know if I want to see it in action or not. When do you decide to use that over say...your sword?” She knew of some methods of hand to hand combat, of course, but armed combat was a different beast entirely, one that she knew was fanged. She'd only ever heard of arquebi in passing, and she was glad that he told her what it was and how it worked. It was probably best if she avoided handling the barrel.

“Generally,” Percival said, lifting his gaze to meet that deadpan look with tired, sober eyes, “The nearly dead's moaning turns into praises and gold. I will take the nearly dead over the dead any day.” He cleared his throat, “Unless said nearly dead are infected with something, they generally smell better as well.” He watched as her attention shifted to her apprentice, a smile blooming when he realized what was happening. He wouldn't rub it in the knight's face however, in fact, Christoval likely didn't see his grin, but he was going to be entertained by it regardless.

Kastivi watched with wide eyes as the knight took off, “I ah...I take it that's our cue to leave?”

“That's our cue to leave, youngling,” Percival said, still grinning and shaking his head. “How long does he usually last?”

“Good thing he's not weighted anymore,” Arabella said, shaking her head. “Aren't you glad I don't train you like that, Kas?”

"They say the hardest quest in the world is confessing love when your heart is screaming, and your brain is still trying to process every feeling that swarms when you look at someone you like. I...If I can somehow be a bit more blunt when it comes to saying I like her," Christoval began, rubbing the back of his head and flicking eyes towards Kastivi and then towards the Halfling, "Then I'd persue right here and now. For the moment, I'd be happy just sitting next to her and laughing. At least until I have a banner and a title of my own, so she's not just being romanced by some peasant." Christoval had seen it all the time in the villages and the smaller cities he had visited. Younger fellows pursuing women they loved with all their heart, only to be spurred and laughed at when the man in question's only virtue was hammering steel into shape. Or being able to tar a roof so it didn't leak when the rains came. Any man could take a beating and beratement from others. But when it came to watching a man's spirit break when it came to seeing his beloved laugh and toss his affections aside for someone more resplendent? Christoval wasn't going to take that chance himself. Not at least until he could call himself 'Ser Christoval' instead of Christoval, the Farmer from Aleside. Swallowing at Waltz's sudden acceptance of his challenge, Christoval sighed and took pride in that fact he wasn't gonna be the sole apprentice casualty. "At least I'll just be getting clocked in the head, Arabella. Kastivi has to endure a session of Dark Magic with Wisp."

Wisp grinned and snickered to herself; bringing up hands to hide the smile that oozed with malevolence, before she nodded and waved her emotions back to a dull, tired state. "If you do wish, however, I would be happy to offer you a small token of peace. At least peace until we in civilization once more and I can torment you, Arabella. It would protect you and your little daughter-to-be from the clutches of the things in the dark." Wisp puffed her cheeks and looked while Arabella swooned over the muscled barbarian, before swishing over to the Halfling to bring a hand and whispered words to her ear. "Waltz cares not about gender when it comes to love. You blush like Christoval swooning over Kastivi."

"Ah know a few who are mad enough to sit and linger in the Southern Nations mahself." Waltz hummed, bringing up a finger to her lips in thought when she was done showing off her musculature in her arms and furrowing her brow. "Mostly because they like the fact yah skin is call chocolate-looking and such. Northerners like things that look not like things from the North." Deadwaltz threw her hands up into the air at the snow comment, eyes wide and grin stretching a mile a minute. "Ah know! Snow is the best thing in the world and ah will fight everyone who says otherwise.

"Well, I mean, this thing is gonna send a bullet through steel. I try and save it for something big and nasty, or heavily armored. It's also loud and can scare away things like goblins." Christoval explained matter-of-factly, slinging it back on his person before chuckling. "Probably would be the best if you didn't hand onto it. A wayward spark, and we might end up hurting someone, or the gun could just ignite. And I don't wanna have to lose hands."

"The dead don't give gold, but their words can lead to riches if you appease them properly. You would be surprised just how nosy the spirits in this world are when it comes to sniffing out your wealth. Christoval hides his gold in his britches. Left side. That was something I learned today." Wisp grunted towards the healer, mouthing the count in her head and then just grinning when she said ten; a hand outstretched while she muttered a few verbal components. Her outstretched hand lowered and it looked as if the woman was gripping onto something in the thin air before the earth in front of her burst open; flickers of flame and magma churning and bleching out a skinless hound the size of a large warhound; cataracted eyes scanning the living in front of it while it came to with frothing, bloody dewlaps - finally letting out a howl that seemed to show the beast in near constant agony, before it trotted over to the dark mage and nuzzled her side; leaving a trail of saliva and foam that ran down her legs.

Reaching down to pat the hound a few times; the monster wincing with each stroke, Wisp cocked her head over towards Percival. "About 2 minutes before exhaustion sets in. This thing is tireless. Though before when I first started doing this, he didn't make it longer than 20 seconds. He's improved." Towards the two Daughters of Ash, Wisp shrugged a shoulder. "...If you wanna see how fast your apprentice moves, I can have this one fetch her too."

Almost sensing another task, the hellhound locked its gaze on Kastivi, bracing itself to pounce on the woman, before Wisp snapped her fingers, and looked towards him.

"You. Fetch my apprentice. Alive. Intact. So much as a missing finger, and your master will be sure to know your failure, hound." Letting out a hellish bray, the beast sniffed towards the ground and catching the knight's scent, lunged in his direction; whooping and bellowing the entirety of the way. The beast was free, and Wisp looked over to the two bags and took one in each arm, grunting and immediately breaking into sweats as she hefted them.

"Percival, would you be a beloved dear, and assist me too?" Wisp swooned, batting her lashes and him and feigning exhaustion.

Arabella was silent, listening to the future knight's worries. The they he spoke of...they weren't wrong. She could remember the first time she'd told her first she loved her. It was so long ago now, in a much different setting, the only similarities between then and now were the common elements of a quest and campfire. “If only it were that easy, right? If only that feeling in your chest could somehow be formed into words and that you knew, with one hundred percent certainty, that those words would be reflected back at you. If only self-doubt would cease long enough for you to see the obvious. She likes you, too, you know. Those looks you give her? I see her giving the same ones to you when she thinks no one's looking,” Arabella said with a wry smile and a shrug. “If you truly believe that Kastivi is one to put rank above her heart, then perhaps you are wrong to start looking for love at the moment, but not because you lack the titles. You have much to learn if this is what you truly believe. Tell me, Christoval, how would you feel about romancing a peasant? After all, that is what Kastivi is, if she could even be considered that now. She's from the Southern Nations. Jacha, to be exact.” She paused to look up at the branches as if trying to decide whether she wanted to go on one of those informational tirades that Kastivi was now well-conditioned to. Of course, this was mostly for show, it was going to happen regardless. She liked sharing her knowledge. “It's one of the three: Osta, Dreir Drela, and Jacha. Do you know anything of these? I do not hold it against you if you don't, few bother. There is no need to know much unless you are a merchant and even then, your dealings would consist of the lords of the land that the serfs rent. Of the three, Jacha is the poorest but with the strongest populace – physically speaking, I mean. They're farmers, the lot of them. Well, those without titles, but those are the few. It's hot there. Humid. The vapor lingers in the air and could almost drown a person. My visit to the Three Nations almost made me glad of my size,” Arabella continued with a jovial chuckle, “Imagine tilling the earth, planting, and harvesting with heat that wraps around you to the point you can't tell if you're drenched from your own sweat or the air. That is what Kastivi comes from. Her family, like almost all families of Jacha, were farmers. No, she's not going to be looking for titles, and her lover, whether that be you or not, should also look beyond them. Now, ser knight, I am not saying that your cause is not a noble one. By all means, please don't sway from your course, but do not think that Kastivi will think less of you without it.”

Arabella cast a look over to Kastivi to make sure that she was still blissfully ignorant of the conversation. She was, thankfully, paying attention to Deadwaltz, “She seems to be looking forward to it, though I wonder if she will be able to endure as well as you have.”

The halfling raised an eyebrow at the obtrusive dark mage, curiously, like she almost couldn't believe what she was hearing, “Is there a catch? I do not wish to be paying penance to some demon I do not know the name of.” She spoke from the perspective of ignorance, of course, and she knew this. But Wisp would have been well aware of that as just moments before Ara was asking for information. Arabella looked down, using her shortness as an advantageous way to hide one's coloring cheeks. “In that, Waltz and I are similar,” Arabella said in lieu of confessing her love of the fairer sex – though “fair” might not have been the proper way of speaking about Waltz. “She's...she's nice to look at,” Ara stammered, lacing and unlacing her fingers together, wishing there was some ready opening out of the conversation.

“Then you haven't spent very long in the south, have you?” Kastivi said laughing. “My people are stubborn and tend to rent the same plots of land they were born onto until the day they die and pass it on to their children to do the same.” Her hands rest gently on her hips, the tops of which were exposed to the cold of the mid-Northern air. She seemed content as ever talking to the barbarian, the glint in her brown eyes conveying as much to those that happened to witness their conversation. “I like things and people from the North,” Kastivi answered, using all of her energy to not glance at Christoval as she said this. “Chocolate is nice, but vanilla has its benefits as well.”
Kastivi scratched her head, still trying to decide what she thought of the weapon. She knew why she'd never seen one before. If she had held onto that for much longer, there was a high chance that it would have gone off. It was miracle that it didn't when she held it in her hands. “I also don't want you to lose your hands,” the Daughter finally said, relieved when the weapon was back on his back. If he had no hands, she'd never be able to know what it was like to hold them. She gave another reasoning if only to hide the color in her cheeks, however, “You won't be able to grip your sword without them.”

“I'm curious as to how the spirits got that information,” Percival said, scratching under his beard and casting a glance at the knight with the hidden money. It was money that he didn't want to touch knowing its whereabouts. Percival, not expecting the random spell-casting, jumped back, head almost hitting a stray branch and he grabbed his hat, yanking it off the top of his head before it could fall into the pit of fire. His eyes were wide as a hellhound clawed its way to the land of mortals. “A...warhound?” the healer muttered, eyes betraying his amazement. “I've never seen one in person, though I have read of them.”

Kastivi stood frozen in place, watching as Christoval took off, the hound close at his heels.

“If she doesn't get hurt, I don't see why not,” Arabella mused, tapping her chin.

“You can't be thinking of letting her sick that thing on me?!”

“Oh, I can.”

Christoval panted and continued along the path as best as he could; lungs on fire while he pondered just how long he had before he had a demon dog coming at his heels with the intent of dragging him back to Wisp. And he was more fearful of the retribution that would come if he wasn't going to either, outrun the thing or outsmart it into doing something else. The only solace there was was the fact Wisp always made sure to make sure he was intact if he failed in this endeavor. The last time when it dragged him back with a mangled foot? Wisp had....Something...Punish the being, and what she conjured after the dog was definitely bigger and meaner than the hounds she used. Puffing his cheeks, Christoval wiped his head with his cloak, before he flared his nostrils, and looked at the bit of fabric, deciding on leaving it in thicket before cursing the gods and his mentors, and carrying back onto his task of running and staying one step away from the clutches of Wisp and her evil pets.

/////

Intrusiveness was a specialty of Wisp's and while she latched onto the Halfling's curiosity like a moth to the flame, the dark mage shrugged her shoulders and shook her head at Arabella, before wriggling her fingers while she delved into a tiny pouch at her waist. "Consider your trinkets penance free. Small tokens like this aren't worth the other powers' time when it comes to sucking out your soul, or damning you in contracts or deals." Wisp hummed and produced from her person a set of bracelets; the design made of blackened iron, and bearing faces warped and twisted into various states of joy and bliss, before dangling them for Ara to take. "And if you must know, the demon in question is Urkephalos, the Evening Star." Wisp was not merciless, nor truly cold-hearted. Her knowledge was invaluable when it came to her topics, and while she didn't personally enjoy the halfling's company, they were questing together, and the Guild had a habit of pointing fingers at her when things went wrong. The topic turned to Waltz, and sensing tenderness, Wisp reeled back her coarse and unrefined manner, only to sigh and drop to a crouch while the barbarian was chittering with Arabella's apprentice. "She's nice to look at. But hear me, not as Wisp. As a personal friend of Waltz's. She's a broken woman. There's a lot of pain under that smile and carefree personality. if you go to her, and it's more to handle than anticipated, you'll only hurt yourself and Waltz even further. Court her if you will, but be prepared for the baggage that comes with her history."

"Ah spent a total of two weeks in the south, so ah don't think that counts for much." Deadwaltz boomed, picking at her teeth with a finger before she slipped and clipped her gums with a nail; the large woman cursing and puffing her cheeks and resuming the conversation. "Ah mean, yah land is important. Yah can't fight on borrowed land, as they saying goes in the north-north. The comment about chocolate and vanilla made Waltz sneer and she lifted herself into a poised position; beaming like a loon and looking down at the daughter-apprentice. "Yah both are good and all, but why have chocolate or vanilla when yah can have meat! Like mahself!"

"Do you think spirits like to sit idly and wail about their lost lives? The deceased are a bunch of gossips and wanderlust-y spirits. Would you not start sneaking into places when you can float through walls undetected?" Wisp asked, turning to face Percival and snickering. "Someone who is dead finds a plethora of wealth, and then starts to brag; and the word of rotten mouth spreads rather quickly. It's a venture someone with a lot more necromantic interests than I can educate you on."

Her warhound released and on the run, Wisp blinked a few times and rubbed her forehead, continuing to lock eyes with Percival. "All brawn. Little to no brains. They're trained to either fetch, or kill. Sometimes both. The powers that be generally don't discriminate when wanting them to retrieve someone."

Finally the Dark Mage crossed her legs and preened her nails, digging a bit of soil from underneath them, bouncing a glance at Kastivi and Arabella, before barking out a command in a foul, guttural tongue. The words of demonic. Coughing and rubbing her throat after, the dark mage smiled. "20 seconds, and another hound is gonna be making its way for you, Kastivi. I would recommend running. And don't fight it, if it manages to latch onto you." Wisp mused, waving her hand to shoo away the daughter-to-be. "

Arabella took the trinkets in her hands, turning them about and looking at the faces briefly before pocketing it. She could sense the magic from it, though she wouldn't have been able to put a name onto it. She chose to not ask too many questions for the sake of her own sanity and, more likely, her physical safety. “Well, I'll take them with gratefulness then, Wisp. Thank you,” she said turning her eyes up to Wisp's. “The name sounds almost angelic. I trust this is the demon that is your patron, then?” She wanted to ask more, but resisted knowing what happened last time.

The halfling swallowed, looked down, and fiddled with her hands, “I...I do not intend to pursue anyone any longer. You see, my own baggage has provided some harsh lessons on my own part.” Arabella sighed and leaned back resting her weight on locked wrists stretched behind her. An almost wistful smile appeared on the halfling's face in an attempt to hide the fact that she felt like Wisp's words had hit her like the ammunition from Christoval's blunderbuss on his back. It was true that Dead Waltz was nice to look at, but her sights saw something other than the amount of flesh she chose to show. The woman was genuinely kind, genuinely saw the world in a unique light void of the cynicism that manifest so wholly in Percival and Wisp. “I'm too old to be thinking about anything of that sort anyway,” she said finally. Her eyes stayed locked on a patch of ground to keep her from casting another wistful glance Waltz's way, “I want to hurt her no more than I want to hurt myself. It is best I keep it to nothing but glances. Thank you for the advice.”

“Well,” Kastivi said with a grin that could only say that she was actually enjoying the conversation, “I suppose I can't say very much about land. I left my rented land when I was still very young. Nothing tied me there in particular save for my family and...well...we see how that turned out.” She gave a casual little shrug. She had other things to fight for. What was land when she got to see all of the Kingdoms and all of their glory? All the mountains, and rivers? Forests and dales, being an adventurer, they were all hers. No, she fought for the good of people, for those beside her. Hell, she hadn't even heard from the actual Daughters of Ash for forever and a day – all of their missions Arabella gave them. They seemed to be completely free and out from under the noses of those even higher in their own Sisterhood. “Waltz, I'm not sure that I could have you!” she said laughing, “You'd break me!”

Percival adjusted his hat, his fingers itching to grab his book to take notes. But no, it was best to save that for when one is not mid-conversation. That sort of behavior was rude, he had to tell himself, and certain societal expectations were to be met even in the middle of nowhere. His life would be dependent on theirs in the future and it was best to establish decent relations. Granted, that was sort of ruined with the good-two-shoes knight, but he was naught but an apprentice anyway. He'd care more about what he thought when he had a title to speak of. For now, he couldn't even be called a squire, so he would protect him while not actually caring what he thought of him. The knight would learn eventually, and after seeing enough, would grow to carry a flask of his own. There was no way one could maintain an attitude like that while learning to see the world for what it is.

No, the book would remained safely situated in his satchel and his stands would still be itching for something to do. “Well, I suppose those wander-lusty spirits are even better modes of information than ravens, however well they mimic our voices,” he said, simply. “You must have a lot more knowledge on the area than most. I can see how having a dark mage is useful in a group of adventurers.”

Percival again latched onto his hat with a hand as the warhound took off. He did not envy the apprentice, but he was thoroughly entertained. “Makes for useful training. You don't have to carry around weights like our halfling friend does.”

Kastivi gulped, hearing the demonic tongue and having just seen what was going to subsequently happen to her, was already poised to start running. Arabella was going to enjoy this entirely too much. She didn't even answer before she took off in Christoval's direction.

She was quite fast, if you happened to ask the smiling Arabella.

"Patron. Among other things. I don't plan on divulging the specifics of any sort of relationship between us. If only for the sake of privacy." Wisp hummed in response, brushing a plume of hair from her face and staring into space with a dreamy look. Snapping back into reality the dark mage bit her lip and looked towards Arabella with a small smile on her face. "Angelic sounding name. They all take something angelic. If only to cement the irony in being the direct counterpart to heaven, I suppose." It was slipper slope into darkness and Wisp looked towards the Halfling, offering to give her the small push into oblivion. "Feel free to converse with me on the topic. I personally think you would make a lovely dark mage." Wisp said, chuckling to herself.

The topic turned to nonrequited lovers, of course and Wisp looked down towards the bleeding heart of a Daughter, only to shake her head and suck her teeth gently, the noise barely audible while she struggled to find comforting words for the woman. Inhaling and exhaling the dark mage stooped to a crouch to make sure she was eye level with Arabella, and shrugged a shoulder before turning her gaze to the mammoth of a woman. "However. If there was someone, I would see able to bring the best out of her, it would be you. Witnessing you two banter with one another. There's a light in both of your eyes. Though if you're keen on not persuing, I won't be inclined to push you any further." Wisp snorted, and flared her nostrils out at Arabella. "Advice? More like a warning. You're both old. Best to canoodle now, before none of you can bend and twist into fun positions while you're tussled in beds."

"Well, yah should count yahself lucky. Better to clobber the things that make people afraid and whatnot, than get stuck plucking turnips and corn out in the fields, I say." Deadwaltz chimed, rubbing her backside and blinking a few times before sticking out her tongue and shaking her head. Homesteading. The thought made her cringe inside and she shuddered at a more...Homely way of existing. There was a reason she was swinging swords and not baking cakes. Part of it was wonderlust. The other was a lack of cooking ability, to be frank. "Bah nonsense! Ah can be tender. Just ask Percy over there." She cackled, leaning in, but still being as audible as she could. "His back ain't right and he can't handle the big girls."

The comment on the benefits of a dark mage in a group was only doing wonder's to Wisp's ego, and the woman had to suppress the smile she wanted to plaster across her face. Someone who had finally managed to at least see past the stigma. Wisp wouldn't deny the fact that most of her kin did much to damper relations with just about everyone else they came across. From betrayals, to sacrificing others for the smallest glint of survival or extra powers, most of the dark mages across the land were vicious recreants, barely one step ahead of their infernal masters, and casting everyone around them in the pits. At least Wisp had managed to snag something more akin to a symbiotic relationship with her own patron. And it allowed her more freedom to be less of a horrid monster than she saw in her ilk. By now, were she like anyone else, her apprentice would have already been dead and laying in a ditch; his soul sucked out to serve her hellish master.

"Having one is a good thing, yes. But you have to find one not willing to murder you." Wisp said, just as plainly as his own response before pressing a hand on her chest and offering a rather mocking bow. "I simply just wish for us all to prosper. Or whatever the proper term is so you don't stick a dagger in my back." Wisp paused and read the group, finally adding a quick, "I don't plan on killing anyone." just in case.

Deadwaltz laughed as Kastivi began her hurried trek away from the demonic warhound, and placed her hands on her hips. "Well, ah'll bet you all mah gold from this venture if they managed to escape. Both of them. Any takers?" She asked, beaming towards the more experienced of the group, to which Wisp raised a hand and quirked a brow.

"I'll take that bet."

Arabella nodded, still fidgeting with the trinkets before finally placing one of them around her wrist. She would hand over the other to Kastivi after her training with the hound was complete, “I understand. Well, I don't, but I understand why at any rate.” She was determined to press the matter no further than the black mage was willing to take it and was content with any amount of information she could glean from her. Personal issues were of no concern to her, so whatever she decided to keep private was as water off a duck's back. Then she mentioned Ara becoming a dark mage. This piqued the halfling's attention and she lifted her head and raised her eyebrows, “Are you saying that to earn a reaction, or do you truly believe that I could ever become one?”

The topic of becoming a dark mage sat closer to the halfling's heart than she would ever admit out loud. As it was, she and Kastivi were two years removed from the Daughters though the latter was unaware of it. Ara had cut them off while continuing to use their name. Technically, Arabella Fairfoot's position as future leader of the Daughters of Ash had never been revoked, though none of the Daughters had so much as seen her face – some assumed her and Kastivi to be dead. So, Arabella used ravens. Lots of ravens, none to the Daughters of course, but in order to earn a living adventuring, she just went on like nothing was happening. She balanced a delicate walk, assuming the face of a Daughter to everyone but the Daughters themselves, and to them...she and Kastivi were nothing but ghosts, shells of broken potential. As far as becoming a dark mage went, Arabella had nothing to lose by learning a new trade. Honor was no longer why she fought.

Arabella had her head bowed as the conversation shifted to Dead Waltz and the same painful pin pricks on her heart began to expand. She recognized that feeling. It started with interest, interest another's physical body, seeing their outer beauty. That interest would either diminish, or as it seemed to be the case with Waltz, grow to admiration. Admiration would grow to love inevitably, and the love would be requited or not. Ara lifted her eyes to Wisp's trying to contain the little bit of hope that undoubtedly showed in her eyes, “You see it in hers as well? As a long time friend of hers, I'm more likely to take your words more seriously than anything I've seen or hoped I've seen...” She took a deep breath through her nose, exhaling slowly. “If...if I were to...to ask, persay, or maybe...start a conversation? What should I do?” The halfling was more than a little nervous as it was half a decade before she even glanced at someone in the same way she found herself accidentally doing with Waltz and the thought terrified her.

Kastivi couldn't help but laugh, clapping a hand over her mouth so her voice didn't echo back at her from the trunks of the massive trees that surrounded them, “I've got to agree. My life on the farm wasn't exactly as good as it is now.” There was truth to her words. She was ten at the time she was “tried” for being a witch, when she was tied to that stake where they were going to pierce her heart, and she remembered life before that. She could remember the hours upon hours in the burning sun, back hunched as she planted or harvested and all in the hopes that the sky would cooperate and grant a moment's respite with darkened clouds. The life she led now, the life of an adventurer suit her better so she could relate to the look of disgust that Waltz now gave.

The wizard in question now had flaming cheeks that were only partially hidden by his beard. “I thought we agreed to keep that between ourselves, Waltz?” Kastivi burst out laughing, once again clapping a hand over her mouth in amazement. “So it's true, then?”

“Yeah, laugh all you want. I'm sure you'll be laughing as you're being hunted by that hell hound,” he shook his head and turned his attention back to the more pleasant company of Wisp. “I have made it a point to not stab party members unless that party member is a traitor,” Percival said simply. “My money is that Kastivi will be caught in a faster time than Christoval is, if only because of experience.”

“Second that one!” Arabella said with a snort and a laugh.

"As the saying goes, some things are better left to wonder instead of study, I suppose." Wisp hummed, yawning for a second and rubbing her eyes - the dark mage looking at her hand and sighing when a bit of the charcoal she used to line her eyes was smeared along her palm. Nothing ever stuck to her skin when she needed it to. "I tend to provide what I can at least to protect others from the demonic. I like leaving the fun things like summoning them to myself," Wisp added, finally divulging smaller glints of precious knowledge, "The last thing you need is a child painting sigils on the ground and summoning something that's more than willing to burn down a village in exchange for a soul." Wisp said, grinning at the halfling when her eyebrows rose with inquisition. "You're cautious. You have a head on your shoulders that isn't laden with idiocy. Hmph. If I had to pick someone from this circus of adventurers to at least bring under a wing, it would be you. Take that as a compliment."

The more Wisp had thought about it, the more it seemed the best choice, should fate have dictated such a necessity. Deadwaltz was curiously, null of most magical potential. The woman seemed to some sort of anathema to the winds of the arcane, and the few times Wisp had attempted to teach the barbarian anything along the lines of simple tricks like small bits of healing, or prestidigitation had ended disastrously. Wisp shifted uneasily as she recalled Wisp trying to heal a nick on her finger, only to have it turn inside out. Kastivi was too impressionable to traffic with anything, at least in the dark mage's eye. She'd be led astray by every undead whisper and demonic promise that would come her way. Percival was...Percival. His mouth would end his life sooner than anything he could bargain for.

And then there was Christoval. The kid was just...Too pure. Paladin material. And while she could have been rewarded immensely in her patron's eyes for corroding a soul such as his, Wisp had other plans for the boy. He was a potential light for people to look towards, and while she was tempted by what she could gain from laying Christoval on a dais for Urkephalos, a small sliver of her just wanted...Wanted the best for everyone with the boy's future. He could do great things.

Wisp clicked her tongue and nodded at Arabella, making a subtle wave towards the barbarian, and leaning in close to Arabella, pretending to dress the Halfling's hair while she spoke in hushed tones. "Next time, look at Deadwaltz when you're talking to her. Really look. She smiles at everyone, and is polite and genuine to everyone. But when she talks to you? There is something extra." Wisp cooed, before shrugging her shoulders and looking at Waltz, a small smile forming over her features. "If you were going to ask, I would say as Waltz's friend, to just be blunt. You would be surprised at how many innuendos and sweet talk fly over her head."

Deadwaltz's attention was locked onto the embarassed looking wizard trying to defend his virtue in the bedroom; Waltz laughing like a loon and shaking her head before shrugging her shoulders. "Ah was gonna keep it between us, but ah'm sure half of the places I've gone to know about yah thrown out back when yah tried hefting my up onto the bed now. I think the town'a Janeloft calls yahself 'Hobbly Percy' now. Just so yah know if yah get called that somewhere." Waltz beamed, looking towards Kastivi once more and leaning in close. "Ah also would get ta runnin'. Hellhounds is fast things. Ah can't even run away from them and ah've tried lotsa times."

Wisp turned her attentions towards Percival and shrugged her shoulders. "And here I was, believing you too craven to pick up something sharp. Healers can stand the sight of gore, but can't endure producing it themselves." She said, a small playful jab sent his way before she looked over towards Kastivi. "I'm sure her knight in training will throw himself in her hound's way first. Chivalry, and whatnot." Wisp added, rolling her eyes at the thought.

Arabella kicked her feet over the rock she was sitting on, her mind reeling with the possibilities of all that she did not know. There were branches of magic that she dreamed of knowing, but her membership to the Daughters of Ash forbid it. She was to learn destruction magic, and the element chosen was to be fire. The moment she had freed herself from the Daughters, she began to expand on her already vast knowledge of magic. Training in weapons use was generally allowed, but frowned upon ( “If you are proficient with fire, you will need nothing else”). She was free, and now she had someone offering to train her in dark magics. “Some things, maybe,” Arabella answered after a moment, “But if I can help it, I want to expand my knowledge as far as I can.” She watched Wisp struggle with her makeup, and not being on to wear any, couldn't offer any consolation. “Compliment taken, thank you. So, would you be willing to take me under your wing? I am more than willing to humble myself as a student.”

The halfling followed the dark mage's gaze to the barbarian and swallowed, “I...I noticed her kindness. Her aloof but alluring way of speaking, how she has nothing to hide--” She stopped what she was saying to listen to Wisp, her cheeks coloring. “You...you really think so?” She had to admit, she couldn't really imagine their white mage hooking up with Waltz, but then, he didn't seem to deny it. “Speaking of her rather forward sentiments, I never pegged Waltz and Percival to...well, you know.”

Percival got to his feet, rolling his eyes, “Okay, okay, so I'm not the best with larger women, but hey, try everything once, right? Waltz looks lovely enough, but I underestimated her apparently. Shoulda stuck to vodka, then I would have at least had the wherewithal to not. But noooo,” Percy said, his voice getting higher to mimic...whoever it was he was talking about, “Vodka's too hard, you're drunk enough Percival, maybe you should switch to mead.” His voice went back to its normal timber, “Well look at what mead got me. It got me the nickname Hobbly Percy, and I don't even like being called Percy!”He groaned and gestured to the path, “And all of this talk made us miss the take-off! The young Daughter is already long gone.”

Wisp gave a 'Ho-hum' kinda of sigh while she watched the feet that dangled from the rock Arabella was on, the woman finally resorting to just wiping off the charcoal along her eyes and leaving small spackles of black across her eyes, and reddened eyes. Wisp personally was the living hypocrisy of her own words. As a former priestess, she knew damn well what would happen when she tempted herself with dark magic, and here she was now. The exact same, only instead of banishing demons with faith, it was force of will and anger. But the Halfing seemed keen on being taught, and at the mention of being called a student, Wisp waved her hand and shook her head. "I'm not a mentor. More of a middleman. You'll see come tonight." She shrugged, taking a breath and twiddling her fingers. First step was finding a patron for the Halfling. Which was never fun.

"Oh, she has things to hide. But if no one knows what to ask, does she have to explain it in her honest ways?" Wisp replied, biting her lower lip and wagging her eyebrows at the halfling, all the while sinking her proverbial fangs into the reddening Halfling. Matchmaker should be a title added to her repertoire. "I mean, if you wanna try and do the whole courting thing and sing her a sonnet, go ahead. Just don't expect her to fall head over heels for you." She paused for a moment, looking at Waltz and Percival before nodding. "I'm glad to be enlightened as to know the two have been intimate. I'm trying to picture Percival trying to take the reins in their tryst. And it's not possible. At all."

Deadwaltz was cracking up at Percival's imitation of...Whoever he was talking about. Waltz herself had been blitzed for the most part of that day as well, but the most vivid thing she could recall was banging her head on the ground when the mage had tried hefting her up, and then having to drag his sore back to the bed and finish the job herself. "Well, if yah don't like being called Percy yah should get yah named changed. Ah didn't even know Percy-vale was yah real name for the longest time." Her voice cracked and she snickered, before looming over towards Percival and locking his head in her arms to administer a noogie, hat or no hat. "Now ah should just call yah 'Hobbly' because everyone else does!"

Waltz and Wisp however wondered the same thing: How fast did Kastivi dart when the hound followed after her?

/////

Christoval had managed to buy himself some time at least, and he knew it. Wearing his cloak had coated it in his scent, and keeping it tossed into the bushes? It was at least a few minutes of reprieve from running. Smiling to himself, the young knight-to-be hopped over a small creek and continued on his escape, before stopping at the sight in front of him when he passed a large rock: the small green humanoid bleeding profusely, and barely breathing.

Something had gotten to it. And from the looks of it, the goblin was running away from his little cave. Unusual. Wisp's books said they always headed towards home in a panick. His thoughts however, were rocked and he snapped back into the world once more when the being let out a terrified gargle, doing its best to stab at the air at Christoval to keep him back.

Sighing and shaking his head, Christoval steeled himself and kicked the Goblin's arm into the ground, before drawing his sword and giving the monster a coup de grace. He hated their kind but at the same time? Nothing needed to suffer like that. Though now he was worried. What if something bigger and meaner was in store for them? Maybe he could sneak back to the group without the hound catching him...It was worth a shot.

The halfling's eyes widened and she turned her gaze from the ground to the dark mage, “Do you mean...my own patron?” Arabella, admittedly, did not have the most experience with the darker magics, but she knew enough that all of the power came from a patron, similar to she and the goddess. She'd spent time praying, asking the goddess if it was alright to pursue other magics. In her heart of hearts, she knew that to be narrow minded was to sentence oneself to death, especially if she was to continue to take up this liminal space. “But...I fear I will have nothing to offer, save for myself. Would there be one willing to accept that?” Her voice was low. There was no need to cue anyone else in to what she was planning with Wisp, and she had no intention on doing so – especially to her mentee and companion.

“She...”Arabella began, turning to look at Waltz again with a dreamy look in her eyes, “She can hide them if she chooses. What I've seen so far is enough to know that she would be worth it.” From her pack she withdrew a small long-stemmed pipe, packed it, and lit it- puffing it to keep the embers running. Offering it to Wisp, she exhaled, “She won't have to explain anything to me. Besides, at this age? We all have baggage that we need to sort. I'll...I'll talk to her and...and see where I end up.” Her brooding reverie was interrupted with the thought of Percival and Waltz, and she grinned, snorting, “Lucky you. The image I got was vivid. Didn't end well for our healer.”

Percival looked anything but amused, but mostly he simply looked tongue in cheek agitated, “It's Per-ci-val. Percival. You know, like the extremely common name in the North? Where you come from? How could you not have known this? We've been in the same party several times. And, Waltz, if you start calling me “Hobbly” may the gods save you because I don't appreciate it. You'll still get your healing because of that blasted oath I took, but I'll make the least soothing spells I know.” The white mage was scowling, his hands itching to reach for his flask, but he was at least somewhat of a man of his word, and grabbed his water instead. The booze could happen when they camped for the night. His water, however, went undrunk as he was soon in the barbarian's arms, gasping for air, his hat being pushed into and rubbed against his scalp.

Struggling free, he glared at the barbarian, taking off his hat, poofing it up again, and put it back on his head huffing, “My bet's still on the knight.”
> > >

Kastivi had no experience with hounds, but she wasn't going to risk anything. She flew through the forest, jumping fallen logs and running against the trunks of trees, ducking when necessary. She was fast too, the weights no longer on her ankles meant she was faster, if only because she was now free from her shackles. It wasn't long before she came across Christoval and she blinked, “Is that... a gobline?” she asked, already knowing that it was, “What's it doing here?”

"Well, I'd offer you mind, but then it's going to turn into a contest, and I'll be quite truthful. I have no qualms killing you to ensure my place near -my- patron at least. He's not getting out of this deal that easily." Wisp said venomously, a bit of balefire flicking in her eyes before fading away. "You're also not his preferred associate, but yes you're correct. Finding you someone willing to play would be the first step down the road." Wisp soon smiled, and looked at the halfling, a more sinister tone spilling across a deadpan, serious features. "You have a lot to offer. I can assure you of that." Though just as quick as the malicious tone came it disappeared, Wisp bouncing glances between Waltz and Arabella. It was like babysitting a 200-plus pound baby who could snap necks at will.

Passing on the offered pipe, only to reconsider and take it from the Halfling, Wisp inhaled deeply, taking more than her share before breathing the plume of smoke out her nostrils like a serpent. "For all this planning and scheming on how to win her over, you certainly seem to wanna overcomplicate everything. That's a trait people hate in the Far North." Wisp chided, smacking her leaps and offering the pipe back to Arabella and snirking. "I wouldn't be surprised if it ended with Percy as the wife in a dress baking things for Waltz."

"Pair-ci-val. Ah ain't heard of anybody called that in the North parts where Ah'm from." Waltz retorted, puffing out her cheeks and crossing her arms after her headlock had been escaped from. "Well, to be fair, ah cracked mah head a few times when we were doing the partying thing. Plus yah wanted me to call yah father when we was in the bedroom not yah Purr-see-vull proper name. Which felt pretty weird to me. Why did yah want that?" There was a genuine look of curiosity on her face while she dug a hole for the White Mage (Wisp red in the face and suppressing a shit-eating grin) and holding up the water for him, beamed at him like a loon.

Adjusting her cloak and biting her nails, Waltz sniffled and shrugged her shoulder. "Either way, getting caught is gonna be funny to see. Watch them get dragged back here."

\\\\\\

In an instant, Christoval's sword was pointed towards Kastivi as he swung around to face the voice at his back, only for the young knight to sigh and lower his weapons when it was the lovely apprentice that melted his heart. "Goblin, yeah. Found it on the verges of death before I helped it....Expire." He said bitterly, looking at the black-red blood staining his weapon. The thing looked so small and brittle on the ground. "No idea why it's out here, but I think something else got to it before I found him. That means there's something meaner out where we're supposed to g-"

Christoval paused and looked over at Kastivi, and then blinked a few times. "...Why are you out here?"

Arabella put her hands up immediately, shaking her head. �No, no, no,� she said, adamant, �I do not want to be in a contest that I would lose invariably every time.� She offered the black mage a smile and resumed kicking her legs over the side of the rock, �It sounds to me as though you got the deal to work in your favor then? Do you...do you have any in mind? How does the process work? What kinds of things do I have to offer?� The halfling was full of questions � valid questions, considering the fact that she was going to be starting an entirely new school of magic. Magic that was of the darker variety.

She said nothing of Wisp taking more than her share; smoking of the pipe was more enjoyable than necessary, and after this quest was over she'd have plenty of coin to get more tobacco. Arabella gulped, chewing at her lower lip, �I'm not trying to...to 'scheme' or overcomplicate it, but I've got nerves. It's been...gods, it's been over five years since I even considered anyone or anything like this. I'm just...I'm just nervous is all.� She took the pipe back from Wisp when she was finished and continued to puff, now with small quick bursts of smoke.

Percival sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose, �As if I needed reminding that you weren't from the civilized parts.� He almost choked on the next part, �Now that part never happened! That's weird even for me! I would have believed it if I asked you to dress like a maid or something because that's actually sort of attractive...but I'd never ask you to call me father.� He snatched the water from Wisp's hands without realizing who he was taking it from, then seeing her, he gave a terse little bow and uttered a small thank you.

�It'll happen to at least one of them. I just hope it happens to both, having the young pups carted back by the collars of their shirts sounds like it would be more hilarious than anything else,� Percival said, still cooling off.
> > >

Kastivi stopped where she was, sucking in and blinking with wide eyes. Running up to someone in the middle of forests known to have goblins was probably not the wisest of decisions. She breathed with relief when he lowered the pointy end, her eyes quickly went back down to the now corpse as he explained the situation. �We need to be on our guard...maybe tell the others,� she murmured as he explained.

Her eyes went big again and she looked at Christoval with a look that only showed true terror, �Wisp is sending a hound after me too�shit, shit, shit! I gotta get to the river!�

Wisp flared her nostrils for a second, but backed down from the inevitable possibilities of competing with the Halfling for attention from her patron. Wisp had clawed, and murdered her way into her patronage, and while she was more than comfortable in her place where she was at now, even the slimmest possibility of change was something she was going to halt immediately. "The price was an...Interesting bargain. But better than anything I could get elsewhere. As for finding you someone, it all depends mostly on you. There's plenty of things that you can ask for depending on what you want." Wisp trailed off for a second when the halfling mentioned what she could offered, taking a breath and deciding on the best way to explain things. "I would assume you have a soul. Or if your thirst for knowledge is powerful enough, your morals could be given away. You would be amazed at how atrocious you really are when wishes can come true."

"Arabella. Stop worrying. It brings you even more wrinkles. Just walk up to her when you lot are alone." Wisp said, her voice stale and the dark mage scowling. "Five years is plenty time to recover, and if you need privacy to just follow your heart, I'll go over there and tantalize Percival with my backside until he follows me." Wisp snorted, rolling her eyes and looking at the wizard for a second.

Deadwaltz nodded her head vigorously at Percival and grunted at him. "Well that's rude, Ah am pretty civilized. Yah think I am not civilized or anything, then Yah ain't met the people in the Deep West. Ah wear clothes. They don't." Wagging her eyebrows, the barbarian leaned in close and snickered. "Well, Ah'm pretty sure that definitely happened, considering yah a different person when you're in the vodka." Deadwaltz looked over at Wisp for a second, the Dark Mage's eyes rolling at the two; Waltz shrugging her shoulders.

"Would you prefer the students calling you father instead, Percival?" Wisp quipped, holding out her hand for the pipe once more once she resettled with the Halfling, and snickering to herself.

> > > > >

Christoval pursed his lips into the thinnest line he could muster. It was bad enough this was already turning into a different hunt and job than he was anticipating. Now anything was in the air, and being this lacking in preparation was going to worry him, and irritate Wisp even more. "I just wish I knew what they were running away from, so we could at least be a bit more useful." Christoval said, frowning.

"Make it to the river. As fast as you can. Swim for a while. A long time. They're patient." Christoval said immediately, already breaking into a run again, and heading towards what he hoped would be the direction of water.

Arabella sat in the moment of tension cringing inwardly. Had she said something to offend the dark mage? A halfling like her – with little experience in magics outside of those of simple destruction – would never stand a chance with the vetted experience of Wisp. The last thing Arabella wanted was the same patron and the need to compete with someone like that. However, with someone like Wisp watching her back, there was hope. “I will not ask about it unless you decide on divulging,” Arabella said with an optimistic smile once the silence subsided. “And if what I wanted were to be power, is that too broad?” she asked, tilting her head. “I believe all of us that have yet to give our souls away still possess one, yes, but what does that consist of?

The halfling brought her hand up to touch the small wrinkles that she was already aware were beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. Crows feet. She didn't mind them; she knew that with age, the body began to wither and she'd decided long ago that they made her look more distinguished. Eventually though, she nodded and swallowed the lump that began to grow in the back of her throat, “You'd do that for me? I suppose now is as good of a time as any with the apprentices...training,” she couldn't help but laugh a little bit at their methods, but who was she to argue against effectiveness?

“If you can consider this to be clothes, I suppose,” Percival said, gesturing to her almost garb. “I believe you and I have two very different views on what defines 'civilized',” the wizard then crossed his arms. Not for the first (or the last) time he found himself wishing for his vodka. This was going to be a long ass quest. “No. Vodka is safe. It was the mead. It's always the blasted mead.

The wizard then turned to the dark mage, fire in his eyes, “I find children to be pitiful excuses for human beings and would rather no one called me father. In or out of the bedroom or whatever else might suffice for a substitution of one. How long does it usually take for one of your hounds to grab your apprentice? I'm ready to get on the road. The sooner we get there, the sooner I can drink and forget that I'm never going to get to retire.”

> > >

Kastivi glanced back down at the corpse. As much as she hated to think about what the goblin could have been running from, she had little time to consider it – at least for the moment. “Whatever it is, we have a more immediate problem. As soon as we get back to camp though, we need to tell the others what we found. Goblins wouldn't be in this area unless provoked, right?”

Christoval took off, and Kastivi was after him. They're patient he'd said. It didn't sound hopeful for the two apprentices, but the hound was ordered to not hurt them at least. That much was at least comforting. But if this was to be a training exercise, she intended to avoid it as long as possible. And if there was a chance they could see whatever hurt the goblin, they'd have more to report on.

"Well if you want me to divulge, I am supposed to show a small demonstration to your apprentice. You're welcomed to come tag along. Having someone a bit more experienced in general will probably be best." Wisp replied with a dull tone in her voice, and a tired sigh. "I'll have to start making circles once we rest for the night. I hate doing the meticulous work." The topic came to a potential desire and Wisp laughed, shaking her head and looking towards Arabella. "Undefined power? You'd probably end up trading your soul for the power to grow the largest turnips in a village you'll never visit. Some are cruel like that. I half expected you to ask a patron for an extra two inches of height."

"I would do it for you because I'm a hopeless romantic." Wisp droned on, standing up to her feet and brushing her rear and her clothing free from dust, the dark mage adjusting her herself and laying predatory eyes on the wizard. She didn't have her makeup on. She was at the disadvantage here, but Percival had one potential weakness. The same as every male that had come across Wisp's path when she needed to exploit it. And that was the Achilles' heel in their pants. And fake charm or not, Wisp could pride herself on being....A sliver of romantic, if one could call it that.

Deadwaltz looked down at the straps and hides she considered clothing, and shrugged her shoulders. Her tits weren't out and flaunting about like Wisp's were. And the cloak hid everything else. How wasn't that civilized? "Well ah mean. You got the book smarts. You probably know a lot of civilized things Ah don't. But Ah got clothes on so I win. I'm civilized." Deadwaltz laughed. Barbarian logic. "Ah'm gonna make sure ah get some then. So yah can embarrass yahself in front of everyone else."

Wisp was ready to extinguish that fire in Percival's eyes, the woman sitting right next to him and letting out a demure, helpless little sigh before resting her head on his shoulder. "Children are not pitiful excuses for humans. While I hate them myself, they're full of something we don't have, and that's exuberance." While she draped an arm around the wizard, Wisp flashed him a small smile and nodded her head to the woods. "Would you care to come to the woods with me? I'm sure we can find them getting dragged back to us then. And we can chitter among ourselves." Wisp murmured, nodding towards Deadwaltz, and then Arabella. "I'm sure you want better company."

>>>>>>

"They'd send scouts, because this one looked like it was genuinely afraid of something else." Christoval said, trying to wrap his head around everything. There wasn't time to examine the creature to see the wounds or look around the bushes for any tracks of potential, bigger threats to deal with on top of being hunted by hellhounds. "Well, this is certainly already more exciting than it should be." Christoval said with a wry smile.

As they ran, Christoval sucked in as much air as he could, looking every once a moment to make sure Kastivi was behind him. It was when those hounds caught people that Christoval hated this. Not the chase. Not the inescapable feelng of being hunted. It was that sulphurous breath and fetid drool that never left your nostrils. It was when the two cross some bushes that Christoval didn't have time to react; a mountain of flesh barraging him on the side and dropping him right down to the ground - the young knight yelping as his hound clamped down on his ankle and began to shake; Christoval looking towards Kastivi as she whirled by. He tried to call for help, tell her more advice. The only thing that managed to surface from his lungs:

"Aw fucking hell. I lost!"

“If...if you need help making the circles, I can assist you?” Arabella offered, voice betraying hints of uncertainty, but what was meticulous work to Wisp was an excellent chance to learn for Ara. She wondered if there was an ideal age to start practicing black magic, and if she was already past that age. She would make the attempt regardless. “I was being vague to offer up a potential example, but I will be sure to ah...not be vague...when I meet my patron,” Ara murmured, gulping. Things could go very wrong very fast if she didn't have an exact hold as to her desires and what she was willing to offer. Thankfully, she had an idea as to what she wanted. Now it was just a matter of bartering out a price.

The dark mage was being unusually kind – at least, for her. Past experiences with Wisp dictated that she was a mage that got things done but was rarely one to glean any enjoyment from by being around her. Now, she was clearing the field so that she could get a few minutes alone with the first woman the halfling had pined over in five long years. She watched as Wsip moved over to their white mage.

“Yes. Yes you do win,” Percival said with a roll of his eyes. He was bored of the conversation and was not willing to argue with a barbarian that didn't seem to hold a candle to any form of logic that came her way. “I didn't know you were so eager to get back with this flimsy white mage, Waltz. But I am sorry but I already brought my own supply of alcohol. My safe supply of alcohol.”

The white mage jumped a bit with another person suddenly in his bubble and looked down at the non-space between his thigh and Wisp's before looking back up at her, clearing his throat and straightening his collar. “If anything, their exuberance makes them that much more annoying to be around. Despite the connotations of the word, I find the quality to be less than desirable – particularly in children.” Percival looked straight ahead, doing his best to not glance down, “You know, as much as I appreciate like-minded company, I find myself being more than a little suspicious.” He paused for a moment before getting to his feet, holding his hand out to help Wisp up should she take it, “I will accept, however, if only because of the opportunity to see a hell hound roughing up the children. I mean, if one of the hounds messed up, my services may be required.”

> > > > > > > > >

The forest flew by them in a flurry of green and brown as they ran through the trees in the forest. In the distance, Kastivi could hear the river; they were getting close. They would just need to hold on for a little bit longer, but already she could feel that familiar burn in her legs that warned her that she was getting tired. It would have been wisest for her to not start off in a dead sprint, but then, she had no idea what to expect. Christoval's footfalls behind her were comforting, even as her mind reeled with their green-skinned find. She had no idea what to expect, so she utilized the speed that she was now paying for.

Then, the footfalls behind her stopped, followed by a yelp and a proclamation of loss. Kastivi stopped where she stood, turning back around and running at full speed toward the hellhound, latched onto its prey. Without thinking, she was airborne, arms stretched and aimed for the beast's shoulder from the side in an attempt to knock it off its feet. “Not...if I...can help it!”

Wisp shrugged her shoulders at the offer and puffed a cheek out for a second. "Go ahead. I don't plan on standing in your circles you've created however. I'm going to be the one attempting to control the situation. If you get me possessed or killed, it would end horribly for everyone." The Mage was going to have to find one of her lighter reads for the infernal for Arabella to pour through at some point, but for now it was all talk and speculation, before the actual attempt at the halfling's first time with dark magic. "Tell me right now. Let me see what you're going to barter with. So I can have an idea of who to try and bring into the fold, then." Wisp replied tartly.

It was a fleeting act of kindness. Wisp was going to be helpful now. At least with the coming of a ritual for the halfling. It was less about the actual kind acts and more building the trust with Arabella, so when Wisp said to jump off the proverbial cliffs? She would without a second thought. That split second of indecision was going to be crucial. As for her playing matchmaker with the barbarian? Wisp just owed a kind thing for Deadwaltz, and having the two at least try and love each other counted, right? She didn't know.

Waltz pumped her fist in the air at her impending victory and wriggled in place for a second, before looking at his rolling eyes and scrunching up her face. She didn't remember if that was a rude gesture down in these lands or not, but if it was when she asked someone later? He was getting a thump in the dome. "Yah should lemme make some hooch for yahself to drink. It's pretty good if yah like juniper berries." Waltz mentioned offhandedly, before peering at him. "Gimme yah vodka. Friends share."

Wisp feigned a look of hurt on her face and planted a hand on her bosom; looking towards the White Mage and pouting. "I am pretty offended you'd reject my company, and not want to watch the apprentices get mauled by hellhounds." She said incredulously, before she pressed against him further and he finally did manage to agree to go with her. "Who knows? They might be mangled up enough for you to impress us all with your helaing prowess. I'd positively swoon." Wisp said, droning on and winking at him.

> > > > > > > > > > > >

Christoval had been content to relent himself to the fate the hellhound had placed on him: his jaw locked around the young knight's ankle. It was being...Somewhat gentle for a ferocious, infernal skinless engine of war, and suddenly the young knight felt a sharp pain as the hellhound was on its side - the beast's locked jaw dragging his ankle with it. Was the thing actually trying to hurt him? Glancing back and seeing Kastivi on top of the beast while it flailed, Christoval fumbled for a weapon. Anything. And pulled the arquebus from his back and took aim; uttering a pray to whatever deity would listen to make sure he didn't hit the girl as he pulled the trigger.

Arabella bowed her head and nodded. She was a novice after all. It made sense that Wisp wouldn't want Ara performing the beginning processes. “Then, I'd be happy to watch to learn?” the halfling offered instead. She felt useless in this endeavor, thankful that she had plenty of experience in other areas so when the fighting actually happened she already had plenty under her belt. There, at least, she would not be wanting. “I...I don't know what I'm going to barter with just yet, just what to barter for. I...I want protection for Kastivi when the time comes. And I want to be the one granting her that protection, if only to ensure that nothing bad happens to her. I am willing to accomplish these goals by almost any means necessary – including selling my soul to whatever patron is willing to grant me this.”

There was much that she was leaving out in terms of why. The apprentice already showed plenty of potential, but, if the ancient texts were to be believed and other Daughters were to catch wind of her abilities, that safety may only be short lived, and it would be the Daughters themselves that she would need protection from. She would need much more than fire to keep them at bay.

“Juniper berries?” the wizard asked, interest piqued, “I do enjoy their taste. But how do you manage to make it while out in adventuring parties?” He looked back down at his flask, disappointingly unused, “Nope. Nuh uh, no ma'am. If I'm not allowed to drink it because our dark mage has decided to side with the goody-two-shoes wannabe knight, you aren't allowed to drink from my stores either.” He folded his arms and cast a steely glare in the direction that Christoval took off running in and looked back to Dead Waltz, “I'll share when I'm able to join you and not a moment before. So you can either convince the dark mage and her pet to leave me to my own devices, or you can wait until we make camp like I have to. She likes you more, maybe you can convince them.”

“I...I am not rejecting your company, but know that I am sensing ulterior motives,” Percival said simply, wishing that he could just be left alone to trail behind the party like he'd been able to with the last few. “Well, I don't normally care how impressed the people I travel with are, only that I can keep them alive in and out of a fight, but I suppose if it makes you swoon, I'll give it a try.” The wizard seemed to be willing to play her games, but only so far, and always with an air of caution.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > >

The explosion was all Kastivi needed to jump back off the beast's shoulders, stumbling backwards, eyes wide. She blinked, both ears ringing and she leaned against a tree to try to catch her bearings. Without thinking, balls of fire appeared in both her fists, body ready for a fight that the mind had yet to catch up on.