Fire Emblem Tropera

Seeing Astrafiliel’s expression and hearing the swordsman’s words, Osroes’ own grows darker. Still, he holds his head up and answers: “And mine Osroes, son of Phraates and companion to Rsama.” Then he continues, saying quietly and attempting to direct a voice of sympathy towards the healer, “You do not have to forgive us yet - or, indeed, ever. I hope that you will, though. We did not know what we did.”

He gladly gains some reassurance, however, when Grendan places his hand on his shoulder and changes the subject - and indeed finds himself nodding at the wyvern rider’s words. That’s certainly one point in their favour for being your creations… He glances between the red-armoured man and his sandy-winged ally. “We may be from very different places, in many ways, but I agree that on this we feel much the same. Rsama and I…” Osroes smiles up at the pegaz who, all this time, has been inching forward, perhaps sensing his rider’s anxiety, and now comes to rest his muzzle on the cataphract’s shoulder. “Ever since he was chosen for me, we have been together. I have been strong for him when he has been weak and, well…” He gestures up with his hand, laughing softly, and rubs his other hand along his face’s underside. “When I have been weak, he has been strong for me.” His smile grows wry, even teasing. “Even if I am the one giving the directions. What would you do without me, hmm?”

If a pegaz can look offended, Rsama does so now.

Kiri put a hand on Astra's shoulder. She had come back from carrying Malia away from the the cumbling ruin. "I understand your wish but if you truly want to mourn the wolf boy an empty battlefield in the desert isn't the best place. As much as I love the desert I've seen what it does to humans."

Then she looked at Osreos as he told his tall tale. Then at the others. "This guy is still here?" She sighed a little and stepped infront of the younger Dragon spreading one of her wings in a protective Manor. "Astra is young sir and I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to fill his head with falsehoods. There has been no 'war' between humans and dragons. There was an internal conflict when humans were first brought into this world and another when his kind", she gestured to Astra "were born. Furthermore I have traveled this world for longer than you can comprehend. I have forgotten more things than you will ever learn and I have never heard of your people. Perhaps you had conflict with a Dragon that was particularly bored on that day but a full conflict? That's pure narsscism."

Osroes, smiling benevolently, puts the flask of pure water back to the unknown warrior’s lips. Almost drained… May you serve our creator well on the battlefield.

Then he hears someone speaking to him - a female voice, seemingly. He looks up to see the red-winged one, haughty expression on her face, standing in front of Astrafiliel as if to divide the two of them. ‘Kiri’, wasn’t it?

As he listens to her words, an anger stirs in his mind. He clenches his armoured fist, then, breathing, loosens it.

Osroes looks down to the bottle. It is drained.

Slowly, surely, he stands. He looks first to Astrafiliel, then back to Grendan with his hand on his shoulder. He takes it with his own, mustering up another, smaller smile, then lifts it away. “Thank you. If anyone here is better versed with funeral rites than I am, then please ask them to do their work now. Otherwise… I believe that you have fire mages among your number.”

He gives a nod, then turns back towards Kiri and steps forward, moving to her side. Then he speaks, his voice a whispering hiss. “I am speaking to you like this because I do not want to further upset Astrafiliel; he does not deserve to hear this. As far as I can tell, you may well both be Mihrzad and thus the holiest of earthly beings, possessing the gifts of both light and creation. By very nature of having the latter gift, however, you can still be wrong. I will tell you this, then, unequivocally: if you truly believe what you have just told me, then your thinking is no better than that of the Vissans, for it is just as monolithic as theirs.”

“You say that you do not know my people, so let me speak as one who knows them intimately. Where we have met there has been fighting and I have borne witness to the grief left behind. I do not know how many of my people have died, nor theirs, but it rends my soul that we have struck at each other for generations against your divine purpose. There is no grand, apocalyptic war between humans and dragonkind, that much is true, but I will not have you accuse me of narcissism and then proclaim in your own arrogance that the deaths of dozens before their prime did not occur. It is a tragedy, one to which I can personally attest, and by assuming its non-existence on the basis of your lack of knowledge alone you insult both myself and your brown-scaled ally. Do. Not.”

He steps past her and turns back to the grey-cloaked body to watch those others who might attend to it and to pay the fallen one reverence.

Edited by Existential_Tempest on Jul 15th 2018 at 5:52:42 PM

Kiri turned back to the man, simply walking away. "You cannot make demands of me. Futhermore whatever tiny village you come from in whatever corner of the deset cannot have many people to die in it in the first place. I garuntee if there was a 'war'" she actually did the finger quotes. "I would have seen it. If you really want me to believe your delusions bring me proof."

Osroes’ fingers curl into a claw in infuriation as he glares at Kiri’s retreating form. ‘Proof’? Do you want me to attack a sayag here and now? Indeed, that possibility is becoming distinctly more appealing!

Then he hears familiar wingbeats and a puff of sand; the tension leaves his body. He leans into the glistening scale armour on the pegaz’s side as the downy feathers of his companion enfold him in a comforting embrace. By your divine name… What would I do without you, my friend? Thank you, Rsama. Truly, thank you.

Kiri, like Astrafiliel, is in all likelihood Mihrzad, he considers. Sacred. Do not let emotion get the better of you. He shakes his head. I must study them, learn more. That, of course, means staying with them… Father will need to know. And Aza… He smiles a bittersweet smile. I should tell her that I love her. He reaches into his satchel to retrieve the sending stone - then sighs and withdraws it. No, now is not the time. There is a soul to send to you. My own matters can come later.

"No proof, that's fine. I'll give you a choice then. Fix your attitude or go home. We need soldiers, not violently religious psychopaths." she said, fixing him with a stern gaze, despite her size. She then walked off to help make inventory of the all the crap the other's brought back.

Railen, who was holding Ingolf's legs while looking between Osroes and the departing Kiri with a rather concerned face, then turned to look at Astra and told them quickly in an attempt to change the subject, "Uh, I'm afraid Kiri is right about this. Unless we bury him real deep the sand is just going to get blow away and I don't think most of us can stand being out here in the heat doing that kinda hard labor. We could probably carry him with his and see if Xel's folks can help us."

Xel stood crossarmed, giving Osroes a look as he had his little splat with Kiri. Not a judging look or a systematic look but a direct, cold, uncaring look. After it was done Xel finally spoke up to say, "In nature prey and predator battle and neither need to apologize since they both understand that they must come to blows with each other. I have never heard about your people in my century of life but even so the unneeded slaying of the dragonblooded, if your people have managed to even kill one, only because of your beliefs will be not be forgiven so easily. You correctly call the Vissan Empire a forced unity but you don't seem to understand how similar your beliefs and actions are to that forced unity by killing those only your group deems unworthy and ragefully lashing out forward those who have every right to disagree with you. You seem to have some free thought and the drive to make those thoughts real though so I will ask you: if your sages deem the truth that you give them as false and wrong, what will you do?"

Astra hesitated before conceding, "I... guess you're right... can't wait too long, though..."

While dismissive of Kiri’s insinuations, Osroes listens a great deal more carefully to Xel - he has just extended his vulnerability and regret to him, after all. Slowly, surely, he considers his words.

He doesn’t have an answer.

It isn’t the same. It isn’t the same. We do not force our sovereignty on others. And yet… We have sought others’ deaths - deaths which are entirely undeserved. He shakes his head. It’s not the same; it’s worse. And he’s right; Husravah might just believe me on my word alone but everyone else - even if I could somehow gather all of them together - but that’s my father’s logic - argh!

Bearing a tortured expression, he glances at Astrafiliel. If he agreed, I could go with him to Tasmag. He could show them as he showed me. That could work… But he would never agree to it. I’ve just said that we have an illegitimate vendetta against his species! If I could earn his trust… No, that’s not right. He is of you - no, he is Mihrzad, more than that! I cannot use him like that!

Osroes grits his teeth, shaking his head rapidly. He looks back up at Xel, eyes pained. “I…” he begins steadily. “I will need to think about this.”

Edited by Existential_Tempest on Jul 16th 2018 at 4:22:42 PM

As the party argued on the best way to lay Inuksuk to his final rest, the clatter of shifting stones from above caught some of their attentions. The remaining Vissan forces, those who had managed to escape from the collapsing ruin, were picking their way over the stones, back toward the summit of the rubble heap. Reaching the top, they started to shift what stones they could, but seemed to be making little progress. They gathered together, and seemed to be discussing something as they stole glances down at the company. Eventually, they seemed to reach a decision, and the group opened from their huddle to face the company. One woman stepped forward, and began making her way down the broken hill toward them.

When she was close enough that the company could see her face flicker between anger and something else, she paused on an outcropping and drew her sword. As the company's hands reached for hilts, she held her weapon aloft, then threw it aside and continued her descent.

"My name is Kiera," she said when she reached the sand. She was a young woman, perhaps in her mid twenties at oldest, with sun-bleached blue hair and a slight frame. She was holding herself up straight, chest out and shoulders back, but they could clearly see was trembling now that she was on solid ground. "Uh, Corporal Kiera, that is. And, uh," she said, punctuating her speech with pauses for deep, quick breaths through her nose.

"Slow down, dear," Diane said. "It's okay."

Kiera took a couple more breaths, slower and steadier, before continuing. "Uh, as of... about an hour ago," she said, glancing back toward the top of the ruin, "I'm acting commander of this expedition. And..." she paused, and then sighed and slumped into a posture of exhaustion. "Look, I don't know what you came here for that you felt the need to murder my friends, but I figure either you got it, or you're not going to now, so if you're not going to finish us off, can we just, like, get some tools from our camp so we can dig out our dead?"

"Of course," Diane said before anyone could respond. "We'll be going as soon as we've tended to our own fallen. Everything in your camp is still yours."

Kiera frowned, but didn't argue, and with a slight bow, waved for her remaining companions to follow her as quickly to their camp - and away from the bulk of the company - as she could go.

The company took a cue from the Vissans, and buried Inuksuk beneath a cairn of loose stones, protecting him from the wind and scavengers. The Vissans were still gathered around their own cairn at the top of the ruin, heads quietly bent, as the company packed up and retreated toward the coast.

______________________

A week later, The Syldra weighed anchor off the western coast of the desert, and the company boarded rowboats to make land. After a few days' worth of following Xel's lead inland, a series of low, rocky hills came into sight, which he indicated was what they were looking for.

"Very well, then," grumbled Ailes, shaking another sheet of sand out of his robes. "Let's get this over with quickly, and return to what actually matters. We have but two fragments of the Emblem left to recover, and every moment we tarry on... family reunions, is time King Leoran must hold the Vissan dogs at bay."

"Well before we go, I made a couple of lemon pies!" Bette cheerfully exclaimed, carrying two lemon pies in her arms and walking onto the deck. "I hope the captain doesn't mind that I took some from her stash, but she can't expect you all to go out on an empty stomach! This should be enough for all of you!"

Swiftly, Vera grabbed one of the pies out of her arms. "This one is mine."

Bette blinked, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of her forehead. "Uh... this one should be enough for the rest of you!" she cheered, holding the one remaining pie out to whoever was near.

Osroes steps up onto the deck of the ship from the stalls in the belly of the vessel, Rsama following behind him - not because he has collected him from there but because Rsama’s stall is where he has chosen to make his sleeping place for the past few days. He looks towards the noise; upon sighting precisely who has made it (and simultaneously registering the voice) he practically glares at Bette, suspicion in his eyes. Then down at the pie. Then up at Bette again.

“This has salt in it, yes?” he asks.

Edited by Existential_Tempest on Jul 17th 2018 at 10:43:08 AM

"Yep!" Bette said with a smile.

Osroes grimaces. “Then that is typical in the North… By your divine name,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I…” The Parni shakes his head again before putting his hand up to make absolutely clear the refusal of Bette’s offer. Then he leaps up to sit atop Rsama and shakes his head once more, this time to clear it - a clarity that is rapidly replaced with happiness, for he is once more in harmony with his companion.

The two ride out.

______________________

Osroes glances over at Ailes, then hesitates for a moment.

It is only a moment.

Rsama beats his wings, launching the pair skyward. Higher and higher they climb, scything through the divine air until the hills are no barrier to their sight.

Edited by Existential_Tempest on Jul 17th 2018 at 12:59:14 PM

Xel, who took the front of the party so that he could properly escort the company to his home, looked behind to Ailes and gave him a curt nod before telling him in agreement, "I don't plan to have us here more than a couple of days, especially if the crown doesn't need any repairs," and then returned his view to the hills that he grew up with. He, with a rather displeased grimace, then explained, "My exile from the clans was just as equally involuntary as it was willing so we can't stay long even if I wanted to. Not that I need much time here to do what I need to do."

Railen then joined Xel side by side and told him with a understanding tone, "Getting one last goodbye to your family when you can isn't something to miss out on. Take your time bud," which Xel returned with a small grin and a pat in the back......which almost threatened to knock Railen face first into the sand.

Nestled in the feet of the hills, the village of Clan Dracobara lay camouflaged. Well, maybe not "camouflaged," as "camuflaged" implies intent to hide, whereas the buildings that made up the village appeared more like they had been constructed simply by dropping chunks of the surrounding rock into piles with holes in on side.

From two such buildings, a pair of men emerged. Many words could have been used to describe them, among which might be found "muscular," "swarthy," "jacked," and "beefcake," all of which were put on display as the pair caught one another's eye and immediately struck opposing flexes. Sweat began to bead on their biceps and the buttons began to pop from their shirts as they strained their poses. At last, some unspoken point seemed to have been agreed upon, and the two relaxed and started heading toward the desert.

"Mornin,' Xol."

"Mornin,' Xal."

"Off to the shrine?"

"Yep. You?"

"Yep."

The pair headed toward the edge of the village, where more rocks had been piled in something roughly approximating an arch, leading into a yard of raked sand. At the center, a rocky outcropping had been smashed into a roughly flat surface, upon which two strange items had been reverently lain: two iron bars, each bearing a pair of matching iron disks the size of dinner plates at opposite ends.

And, standing beside them, was someone most unexpected, along with a small horde of strangers.

"...what're you doing back here, Xel?" Xol said. "You know what Nana said: you can't come home 'til you're swole enough to lift the holy disks."

"Vera I... I don't think I like this place...." Bette said with a shudder, hiding behind Vera.

"Just don't make eye contact," Vera said, putting an armored hand on the Dark Mage's shoulder. "Don't make eye contact."

From above the group, a faraway laugh of joy - rapidly growing louder and closer - might be heard. Moments after, Rsama swoops down from above, wings extended to pull up above the ground. They beat, halting their motion and leaving him and his rider to land gently upon the sand in a small cloud of dust.

The cataphract grins, giving the pegaz’s neck a firm rub, then turns eagerly to surrender his grasp of the situation. As he does so, though, he notices the two newcomers.

The two seemingly very strong and potentially dangerous newcomers whose disposition is entirely unknown to him.

Osroes glances between them and the group - specifically Xel - as Rsama inches away, partially of his own accord and partially at his companion’s direction. The Parni’s hand tenses, its owner instinctively wanting something in his grip to be ready to defend himself and his partner while the rational side of his mind holds him back, not wanting to provoke them. “Do you already know each other?” He looks at the two. “You are say-” No. - “dragons, yes?”

Damien glances over at the buff Dragon Laguz. While looking at his arms, he grumbles. "How the hell did these guys get so buff? Are they eating some kind of magic food or something?"

"Nah, they just don't have anything better to do with their time than bulking up. That sort of thing has to be the result of lifelong dedication," Grendan replied, trying not to look too unimpressed. "You, on the other hand, have been dedicating yourself to learning to use what you've got efficiently. It's kind of hard to compare those goals directly."

Astra... was trying to hide behind Heath at the moment; while they'd more or less gotten used to Xel's presence, suddenly finding two more of him was more than they were prepared for.

Damien nervously laughs, "Thanks, man. I try my best."

He takes off his headband and attaches a clip to it as a lucky measure.

"From what I heard from that quiet horse rider, those Ruins were pretty dangerous. He's gonna treat his horse for wounds. So he's gonna sit this one out. I hope we'll be lucky this time."

Edited by josh6243 on Jul 20th 2018 at 8:38:30 AM

Out of another building came out another man, and you could immediately tell he was just passing through. Why? Because while he was tall, almost to the point of fitting in with the townspeople, he was a lot thinner than anyone else in the town, and had a mop of blue hair, somehow messy and kept at the same time. He wore a set of light gray armor set like that of a soldier, but it looked like it was repurposed, and a collar stuck out from above the shoulder pads, like he had something to cover up. He drags an axe behind him with one hand while rubbing his eyes with another.

He yawns, moving aimlessly toward the edge of the town kinda slowly as he rubs his eyes some more, before finally seeing Xol, Xal, and the group.

"Huh? More travelers? Who knows, maybe we'll actually get some diversity in here."

He slightly picks up the pace until he gets to the edge.

Edited by DefRevenge24601 on Jul 20th 2018 at 9:10:30 AM

"I was nearby," explained Xel with a obvious lack of enthusiasm before taking the crown off from his waist and tossing it to Xol and Xal. He would then tell them, "My comrade almost died getting this relic and I don't intend to leave without it being looked at by our elder."

Railen meanwhile stepped back to tell Damien, "All the muscle in the world doesn't matter if you can't hit the side of a barn. Asides they probably can't do any of that punch stuff like you can. Like........I don't know, double fist punching or triple jump kicks or something."

Edited by LightToAll on Jul 21st 2018 at 1:44:59 PM

"You have a point there, Rai," replies Damien. "However, I haven't perfected the Robinson style enough. I still don't know the 9-Point Seal technique, the ultimate move of the Robinson Clan, just yet. Who knows if those Vissan have martial artists of their own to counter us. I dread if that day comes."

"..." Blinking ever so slowly as she sat on the slightly elevated outcropping of stone that constituted the closest equivalent of a porch of one of the 'houses' (she hesitated to call it that so much as slightly more elevated caves), the dancer saw that her current range of vision was being filled up by... well, rather eccentric people it seemed.

Men so burly that it seemed they had earthworms for veins wriggling around under their physique. A band so ragtag and seemingly disjointed that they appeared to have stepped out from the legendary stories themselves. And a few cuties sprinkled about to serve as rather welcome decorations to the sudden one-two punch of weirdness that seemingly materialized out of nowhere.

Repositioning herself on her guest abode's crudely sculpted stone chair (was everything made out of rocks around these parts), the dancer decided that it was best to view the oddities with a more full stomach. Pulling out a parcel of dried rations from her traveler's haversack, Cava munched on rolled oats and nuts with dried berries tossed in for a bit of sweetness. Crunch crunch chew. It wasn't often that the entertainer found entertainment for herself in this part of the land so she simply took the stimulation that delivered itself to her viewing pleasure.

Idly the thoughts of herself being swept along on an adventurer with these folks popped into her head before the woman simply waved it off. Legends weren't that easy to emulate after all and nice as that scenario might be, the Manakete knew that it simply wasn't feasible to think that it would come true simply because of aesthetics otherwise the traveling mummers and theatrical troupes would have overthrown the tyrannous regimes a long time ago.