The Black-haired Dragonslayer

#wanderingarcherviola #//sorry for the delay things at home are really hectic

wanderingarcherviola:

In just a few days he had gotten that lost? Viola had only heard stories of Rivendell, as curious as she was there was no way she would dare approach its borders, she’d be shot on sight without a doubt.

She was considering giving him help right up until he’d suggested leaving the tavern to talk elsewhere. Immediately she narrowed her eyes and made a face. Was he really lost or just trying to get her to a second location?

“Fuck that.” She snorted “Talking about Rivendell, Dúnedain and then asking me to go with you somewhere else to talk? You must think I came down in the last rain. I might be young but I’m by no means a stupid girl.” She laughed.

Taking a mouthful from her drink she shook her head “You want me to go off with you to talk shit over.. Easy way to get a girl alone in the dark, makes murder pretty simple.”

He frowned in almost offended silence. Harming her was the last possible thing in his plans. He just wanted to go back to somewhere he wouldn’t be seen as an obvious foreigner, even if it was obvious to both groups that he was neither elf nor dúnadan.

“I may seem as one of them, but I’m not. I have no interesting elvish weapons on me, nor do I have priceless relics of Westernesse. Their story isn’t mine. You’re the first orc I’ve ever met and I have no reason to wish you harm. I wouldn’t ask you to take me all the way there.”

Reaching into his bag, he retrieved a wrapped piece of cake. Quickly undoing the wrapping, he parted the piece in halves, pushed one half closer to the orc lady, and put the other in his mouth.

“Also,” Magnater said, munching on his cake and not minding that the corners of his mouth were now covered in fine sugar and frosting, “I’ve never killed people before and I’d rather not start today.”

He'd walked past once, Viola hadn't cared, just another person going about their business.

He'd walked past a second time, it wasn't uncommon someone walked past for a second glance at the strange little orc.

A third time and she was starting to get suspicious, as much as she didn't mind people gawking it did come with risks.

"You've gone past a few times, you looking for someone or just wanna gawk at the little orc freak? " She huffed setting her cup down, as unpleasant as the shitty tavern was anyplace that allowed her kind in the door was a place she had to be cautious in "Hmm, you don't look then sort to hang round these places at all."

@theblackhaireddragonslayer

wanderingarcherviola:

“I dont need to mug some poor sod to get by, like some of these lot, I get by on my skills and jobs I take.” She boasted, Viola wasn’t about to mention her own incident from the first time she walked into the tavern, orcs were less favoured but compared to most In this place Viola didn’t like double crossing or trying to extort more coin from her jobs, she was grateful just to have one.

And now, a job had just sat itself down at her table asking for help, she couldn’t have asked for anything easier to have come along. She didn’t trust Elves but any who came into this place and spoke to an Orc deserved some benefit of doubt.

“Lucky for you I’m available to take a job right now.. So, where are you coming from and where do you wanna get to?”

“I left Rivendell a few days ago, but I’ve lost my way. I’d be glad to go to any Elven settlement or anywhere protected by the Dúnedain, but...” He paused for a long moment. “They’re not very fond of people like you. It could be dangerous.”

Despite hearing many stories about the cruelty of Orcs, he had never actually met any of them before. And this one wasn’t a huge, scary warrior, in fact, she was a small lady Orc and she didn’t seem as unfriendly as the other patrons of the tavern.

“But I guess the first part would be getting out of this tavern without trouble. We can think things over better in a safer place.”

#wanderingarcherviola

He'd walked past once, Viola hadn't cared, just another person going about their business.

He'd walked past a second time, it wasn't uncommon someone walked past for a second glance at the strange little orc.

A third time and she was starting to get suspicious, as much as she didn't mind people gawking it did come with risks.

"You've gone past a few times, you looking for someone or just wanna gawk at the little orc freak? " She huffed setting her cup down, as unpleasant as the shitty tavern was anyplace that allowed her kind in the door was a place she had to be cautious in "Hmm, you don't look then sort to hang round these places at all."

@theblackhaireddragonslayer

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I was looking for a place to sit.” Pulling the hood of his cape lower on his face, he pulled the free chair by her side and sat down.

The people at that tavern didn’t look very friendly, and many were looking at him as if measuring if he was or wasn’t an easy mark. Also the food didn’t smell edible enough for him to order anything.

“Just a question,” Magnater said, keeping his voice low enough that only he and the little orc lady would hear, “is it that obvious that I’m an outsider?”

Viola gave a nod and quick glance around the room showed that a few were eyeing the stranger already, no doubt he'd be shanked and mugged the second he stepped out of the tavern "You look lost, too well dressed, wide eyed and confused. You aren't here for what services are offered round this place.. If you were you'd have taken care of it already."

It wasn't a stretch to say Viola had a seen a few strangers get roughed up for making simple mistakes, bumping into the wrong person could get your arm broken or your leg broke, not a welcoming place to outsiders.

"So, you passing through or was it just curiosity that had yoy come here?"

“Mostly passing through. I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.”

He sighed, hand reaching for the hilt of his sword under his cape. Lost, well-dressed, wide-eyed, confused could as well be code for easy to rob. They’d have a sore surprise if they attacked him, but he wasn’t used to fighting people and he definitely didn’t want to kill any of them. And he could be wrong, but the orc lady didn’t seem like someone who liked getting in unnecessary trouble.

“You’re one of the only people who haven’t looked at me like I’m a valuable mark in this tavern.” Shooting a hopeful look at her, he smiled. “Can you help me get to somewhere safer?”

#wanderingarcherviola

He'd walked past once, Viola hadn't cared, just another person going about their business.

He'd walked past a second time, it wasn't uncommon someone walked past for a second glance at the strange little orc.

A third time and she was starting to get suspicious, as much as she didn't mind people gawking it did come with risks.

"You've gone past a few times, you looking for someone or just wanna gawk at the little orc freak? " She huffed setting her cup down, as unpleasant as the shitty tavern was anyplace that allowed her kind in the door was a place she had to be cautious in "Hmm, you don't look then sort to hang round these places at all."

@theblackhaireddragonslayer

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I was looking for a place to sit.” Pulling the hood of his cape lower on his face, he pulled the free chair by her side and sat down.

The people at that tavern didn’t look very friendly, and many were looking at him as if measuring if he was or wasn’t an easy mark. Also the food didn’t smell edible enough for him to order anything.

“Just a question,” Magnater said, keeping his voice low enough that only he and the little orc lady would hear, “is it that obvious that I’m an outsider?”

#wanderingarcherviola

theblackhaireddragonslayer:

“I saw burned leaves on the grass over that way,” Magnater said, pointing with his head, “so naturally I went to have a look. I must have startled this little guy, because the first thing he did was to spit embers at me, but I guess he likes sweet fruit because he calmed down and started following me after I rolled him an apple.”

The salamander in his arms made a happy noise at the mention of apples, and Magnater grinned.

“Somehow we make a good match. The two companions walking with you suit you well, too: a singing partner and a loyal friend to take around on walks. But I still have no idea what kind of creatures they are.”

“I shall have to see if these two are fond of fruit as well– the greycloak who introduced us didn’t exactly tell me about their dietary needs.”

She tipped her head thoughtfully, still scratching the hound’s ears. “Perhaps they’re… spirits of some sort? After all, we have tales of beings thought to be lesser Maiar who went about in beast-shape. Ai, I wish someone like Mithrandir were around to ask…”

“If they haven’t been around long, there’s a chance even he, old and wise as he is, wouldn’t know. They would mention it in stories, I think, if people befriended strange and wonderful creatures like these.”

Magnater put his fiery new friend on the ground, retrieved an apple from his bag and sliced it in half. He gave one half to Rossiel’s pink fairy and offered the other to the large, fluffy dog.

“Let’s see if they like apples.” The salamander tugged at his leg. “Alright, alright, I’ll give you one, too.” He handed another apple to the little lizard. “There.”

With a happy Char!, the Charmander held the apple with both paws, breathed fire on it until it was baked, and started eating.

#askrossiel

For whatever reason, the giant mustachioed hound and the round pink moon-fairy with which the greycloaks had presented her seemed intent on remaining close to her side, the latter singing cheerfully to itself as it perched upon the back of the former.

Rossiel wondered if the world was full of other such creatures and if anyone else she knew might have inexplicably found themselves with similar companions. Perhaps she would seek out her friends to ask…

“Hey, ‘Siel! New friends?”

Magnater kept a cheerful tone despite the scorch marks in his armor and soot on his face. He held in his arms a little orange salamander with fire on the tip of its tail. The small creature looked at everything with big, curious green eyes.

“I made a new friend and I have no idea what kind of creature he is, so I thought to ask if anyone knew.” He glanced over at the pink fairy and the giant dog walking behind Rossiel. “Do yours breathe fire too?”

Rossiel chuckled, shaking her head. “No fire yet, mercifully. Rather, this one–” she gestured at the fairy-creature, “–seems musically inclined, and this one–” she patted the dog, “–is as keen-nosed as any hound I’ve ever met, but with a coat you could lose your whole arm in. How did you come across your new friend, if I may ask?”

#askrossiel #//just imagine the scene: Rossiel feeds them berries and her Stoutland just up and Fire Fangs one because roasted berries tasty

“I saw burned leaves on the grass over that way,” Magnater said, pointing with his head, “so naturally I went to have a look. I must have startled this little guy, because the first thing he did was to spit embers at me, but I guess he likes sweet fruit because he calmed down and started following me after I rolled him an apple.”

The salamander in his arms made a happy noise at the mention of apples, and Magnater grinned.

“Somehow we make a good match. The two companions walking with you suit you well, too: a singing partner and a loyal friend to take around on walks. But I still have no idea what kind of creatures they are.”

For whatever reason, the giant mustachioed hound and the round pink moon-fairy with which the greycloaks had presented her seemed intent on remaining close to her side, the latter singing cheerfully to itself as it perched upon the back of the former.

Rossiel wondered if the world was full of other such creatures and if anyone else she knew might have inexplicably found themselves with similar companions. Perhaps she would seek out her friends to ask…

#askrossiel #//of course he'd go and find himself a Charmander

“Hey, ‘Siel! New friends?”

Magnater kept a cheerful tone despite the scorch marks in his armor and soot on his face. He held in his arms a little orange salamander with fire on the tip of its tail. The small creature looked at everything with big, curious green eyes.

“I made a new friend and I have no idea what kind of creature he is, so I thought to ask if anyone knew.” He glanced over at the pink fairy and the giant dog walking behind Rossiel. “Do yours breathe fire too?”

//I’m back, but it’s been so long since I was last here my Notes tab displays nothing.

I probably owe replies to some people, but I really don’t remember ;n;

#OOC #//in any case I'm glad to be back I missed RP shenanigans

askrossiel

The names of her friends brought out at least a hint of a smile, knowing that her place in their hearts was perhaps the last thing that had kept her fëa from slipping its fragile bonds to flee for the Halls.

“I suspect it’s… almost fortunate she was not among the team the Captain chose for my rescue. She – stars – she would have… she would have paid them back with interest for every hurt they dealt me, and she would not have been merciful about it.”

“I don’t doubt it, and I can’t say I’d pity them. I mean... I understand the feeling, even if my weapon of choice wouldn’t be a theorbo. I wouldn’t be merciful if anyone willingly harmed my friends, and I wouldn’t be merciful at all if they went after my brother.”

He took another bite of his slice of cake, almost considering how terrible he could be in that kind of situation. He’d be as terrible, as destructible, as a dragon - all because someone had harmed the ones he loved.

“You remind me of him, in a way.”

#askrossiel

hraicene

aurorasmemes‌:

reblog this if you’re an indie roleplaying blog with both an LGBTQIA+ mun and LGBTQIA+ muse(s).

i’m trying to get an idea of how large portion of the indie rp community consists of queer muses being written and represented by queer people themselves. allies, don’t interact.

#ooc #//the dragonslayer is aroace and the mun is a demiromantic who cries in bisexual

theblackhaireddragonslayer‌:

“I won’t tell, I promise. If anyone asks,” he said, smiling, “I came to talk to you while enjoying some cake, and I was so careless with my eating that I left crumbs everywhere.”

Magnater poured two cups of tea, one for himself, and one for Rossiel. He also took a knife and cut one of the honey cakes into thin slices.

“Here, these are yours.” He offered her one of the teacups and a slice of honey cake, and took a long sip of his tea along with a bite of a slice of cake. “If I’m not asking too much, can you tell me what happened? Uh… it’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it, too.”

“You are most kind.” She took up the cup in both hands, a slight tremble sending ripples across the tea’s surface as she lifted it to her lips.

“We were…” she began, after a few false starts and many deep breaths, “we were waylaid on the High Pass. I know not whether my escort was incapacitated or slain outright, but I was held captive for some weeks.” Rossiel paused for another sip, clinging to the cup’s warmth against the memory of her ordeal. “Dourhand Dwarves are not gracious hosts.”

#askrossiel #//so sorry for the delay! Tumblr on Chrome mobile is a butt with formatting and the boy here wasn't the only one with trouble with his words

"That... that must have been terrifying," he said quietly, a good moment after she had finished speaking. "I've never had the displeasure of running into the Dourhands. Maybe I was just fortunate that none of my roads took me close to them."

Magnater took a long sip of his tea and finished his slice of honey cake while he tried to find the right words to say. They didn’t come as easily to him as they seemed to come to his brother.

"But...” He paused for a moment and retrieved another slice of cake to munch on while considering his words. “You’re safe here, and if anyone comes in here with the intention to cause you harm, they’ll have to face the wrath of too many people. Lord Elrond for starters, then Lord Glorfindel and the guards, and then your friends. I’d excuse them for underestimating me,” Magnater smirked, “but I can’t think of anyone who would want to face a furious Lindethiel.”

In the quiet of Tham Send, Rossiel huddled among her blankets and waited. Even when the healers promised they wouldn’t be far, that they were only going to fetch hot broth or fresh bandages or water and a cloth to bathe her, she hated being left to her own devices.

She dreaded sleep more, for her captivity haunted her dreams; or worse, she often feared Imladris was the dream, and that in truth she was still bound in a Dourhand cell, still awaiting whatever end the wight that now wore Skorgrím’s body would put her to.

The thought was enough to make Rossiel whimper piteously.

Magnater wasn’t himsef hurt - but quiet places brought contemplation, and contemplation with warm tea and cake was better, so he sat by Tham Send with a teapot, two teacups (in case he wanted to share) and a tray of honey cakes fresh from the oven.

The noise - someone whimpering - caught his attention. He rose from his seat, carefully balancing the teapot and the cakes, and approached Rossiel.

“Um, Rossiel?” Not the most confident of approaches, but it was better than leaving her alone when she so obviously needed comfort. “I… heard you, and I wondered if you’d like some company, or just some food? I have tea and cakes.”

She startled a little as he approached, withdrawing further into the blanket-bundle, but calmed and poked her head out again when she remembered Magnater was a friend.

“I… y…yes. Tea, yes, and company. The cakes, I… I shouldn’t, but–” Rossiel sniffed the air. Stars, they must still be warm. How unfair, to be presented with warm honey-cakes when she wasn’t sure she could keep real food down yet! “Maybe…. maybe just a tiny nibble won’t hurt, if… if you don’t tell Lord Elrond.”

“I won’t tell, I promise. If anyone asks,” he said, smiling, “I came to talk to you while enjoying some cake, and I was so careless with my eating that I left crumbs everywhere.”

Magnater poured two cups of tea, one for himself, and one for Rossiel. He also took a knife and cut one of the honey cakes into thin slices.

“Here, these are yours.” He offered her one of the teacups and a slice of honey cake, and took a long sip of his tea along with a bite of a slice of cake. “If I’m not asking too much, can you tell me what happened? Uh... it’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it, too.”

#askrossiel

In the quiet of Tham Send, Rossiel huddled among her blankets and waited. Even when the healers promised they wouldn’t be far, that they were only going to fetch hot broth or fresh bandages or water and a cloth to bathe her, she hated being left to her own devices.

She dreaded sleep more, for her captivity haunted her dreams; or worse, she often feared Imladris was the dream, and that in truth she was still bound in a Dourhand cell, still awaiting whatever end the wight that now wore Skorgrím’s body would put her to.

The thought was enough to make Rossiel whimper piteously.

#askrossiel #//when he doesn't know what to do he offers food #//but he's also offering company

Magnater wasn’t himsef hurt - but quiet places brought contemplation, and contemplation with warm tea and cake was better, so he sat by Tham Send with a teapot, two teacups (in case he wanted to share) and a tray of honey cakes fresh from the oven.

The noise - someone whimpering - caught his attention. He rose from his seat, carefully balancing the teapot and the cakes, and approached Rossiel.

“Um, Rossiel?” Not the most confident of approaches, but it was better than leaving her alone when she so obviously needed comfort. “I... heard you, and I wondered if you’d like some company, or just some food? I have tea and cakes.”

Logging off for the 17th.

I can still be reached through Discord. There I’m Magnater#0405.

#[ooc]

"How is that armor all... Rainbow-y?" Passing by the other along the road, Turin couldn't help but slow her pack mule to a near-halt as she stared.

Magnater stopped walking, staring right back at her. She was dressed strangely, and why would someone walk those deserted roads with a pack animal by her side?

“My armor is colorful like this because it’s made of dragon scales, and they didn’t all come from the same dragon. And… did you come from the fields beyond the mountains? I don’t think I recognize your accent.”

“Ooh, wow that’s neat!” Turin said, impressed. “Yeah, I’m from beyond the mountains- I’m a ground courier in the Till Dawn Merchant Guild, so we’re kinda from everywhere, going everywhere.”

With a grin she patted her mule on the neck. “This bad gal here is my ride back after I deliver these spices to the Fort in the Telaurgen Ruins.”

“Um, you might need to rethink your delivery route. The fort is deserted, ruined like the rest of the city, and it’s been like that for the past few centuries. You won’t find a living soul there.”

Magnater shuddered - the stories of ghosts there always made his blood chill. There were apparitions - spectral visions, living as they did before the city had been ruined. Disembodied voices shouting commands and screaming. And some people said that, in some places, the ghosts had a stronger presence, strong enough that they could grab at the living.

“Are you sure you’re not meant to deliver those spices to the former commander of the Fort, who now lives in the tunnels beneath the mountains? Your guild would be reckless to send you into the ruins without protection.”

“Wait, the Fort has been gone for how long?” Turin asked, and then gave a heavy sigh.

“Alright, then. I was told to deliver the goods to the Fort Commander, but nobody said it was gone. As far as I was aware, if I was to deliver to the Commander, then the Fort should be there as well. Since it isn’t, well-”

She paused, noticing the other’s almost fearful reaction to the mention of the Fort in the Ruins. What had scared him so badly to shake like that?

“Are- are you alright, sir? I was going to ask if you could show me the safest way past the ruins and through the tunnels, but if the thought scares you then I can go on alone. It’s no big deal, really.”

Magnater took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. But you shouldn’t go through the ruins, and you shouldn’t go through them alone. You probably haven’t heard the stories, because, if you did, you wouldn’t suggest going through the ruined city, not even as a joke.” He took another deep breath. “The ruins are badly haunted, and it’s better not to disturb restless spirits. If you lose your way there, you have a chance of never returning.”

Noticing he was making a grim face, he made a point of taking yet another deep breath and clearing his expression into something a bit cheerier.

“I can show you a better way. There’s an entrance to the tunnels in the ruined city, but there are other entrances that aren’t as dangerous, and I could go with you there.”

“You, uh-” Turin idly scratched at her mule’s face. In response the animal shoved it’s face into her armpit. She grumbled and turned to check the contents of a large saddle bag. The mention of restless spirits had spurred a plan- Likely useless for anything other than boosting morale, but it was better than nothing.

“You don’t look fine. At all. But if you want to show me a better way, I’m not complaining. Heck, I might have a few protection charms in here that’ll help us out, no matter where we go! Beaded strings, carvings and stuff.”

She dug through the bag for a minute before she found what she was looking for- Safety charms, made specifically for long travels.

“And I was right! Didn’t forget them like last time!”

Coming back around to the head of her mule she began to attatch them to the bridle- One brightly-colored yarn braid on each side and hanging where throatlatch and headstall met, dyed shades of gold, green, and blue. Then, in the middle of the browband went a trio of flat iron discs, small enough to fit in one’s palm. While the outer two bore overlapping circles, the middle was an overlap of squares and triangles.

“There we go, charms for safety, wealth, and Merchanter’s luck!”

Magnater took a quick look at those charms. They didn’t look like they had been actually blessed for protection, but they did seem to carry some symbolic meaning. And symbolic meaning was better than nothing.

“Well, I’m not fond of the idea of ghosts,” he explained. “Other things are easier to deal with, since you can actually hit them if they try to get you, but ghosts? I’d rather fight a dragon ten times my size.”

He glanced around. That other way were the ruins, and he would not head there without a very good reason. That meant that further ahead they’d find an entrance to the tunnels, even if it was a bit hidden. He started walking and waved at her.

“Follow me, it’s this way. Oh… and I just noticed I don’t know what to call you. What’s your name?”

A quick jog towards the dragon slayer, and the group was more or less walking in sync.

“My name’s Turin. No relation to the probably mythical Disaster Hobo, name aside.” she said, offering her free hand to shake. “Good to meet you, sir…?”

“Magnater, pleasure to meet you.” he said, shaking her hand. “Or, if I went by my full title, Magnater Rissarmarellen, son of Rissa from beyond the mountains and Armarel from Evernight, champion from under the mountains, full-hearted half-blood, younger brother of Magnaur, baker of cakes, and slayer of dragons. But you don’t need to call me all that. Just Magnater is fine.”

He continued walking, knowing that Turin and her mule wouldn’t be far behind.

“So, your name is Turin? I met a man with that name in my travels, once. Fine man, had a good blade with him. He wasn’t as disastrous as the title of Disaster Hobo would imply, I think.”

“Understood, ‘Just Magnater’!” Turin said with a grin.

“Oh really, you met him and survived? Neat, I thought everyone who was near that guy always died a slow and terrible death. Or at least that’s what the rumors say.”

As the pair walked on, the shadow of the mountains began to slowly loom above them. Turin was filled with- Something. Definitley nerves, as she’d never had to do an underground run before. She pursed her lips, but squared her shoulders and kept pace.

#tilldawn #[ic]#home!verse #//I'm gonna be honest with you if there are any references to anything in his full title it's completely coincidental and non-intentional #//brief pronunciation guide: the A is the same as in 'that' and the E is the same as in 'red'#//consonants have individual value so that GN won't merge into a single sound #//so it's mag-na-TER

Ah, so Turin was one to joke! Magnater smiled.

“I’m not dead or dying a horrible death, as far as I know. Then again, I’ve always had good fortune. Maybe my good luck neutralized his legendary bad luck and his doom couldn’t catch on me.” He shrugged, and looked behind him. Her posture had shifted with tension.

“First time under the mountains?” he asked. “Don’t worry. The tunnels are sturdy, and other than the entrances near dragon-infested areas, they are wide and comfortable. And the people are very helpful, should you lose your way.”

musing-achievements

↖️Achievement: Welcome to Sleepy’s Donuts

🏆This Muse has a Thing for Baked Goodies!

#ooc #on mobile #will add the about the muse and headcanons tag later

"How is that armor all... Rainbow-y?" Passing by the other along the road, Turin couldn't help but slow her pack mule to a near-halt as she stared.

Magnater stopped walking, staring right back at her. She was dressed strangely, and why would someone walk those deserted roads with a pack animal by her side?

“My armor is colorful like this because it’s made of dragon scales, and they didn’t all come from the same dragon. And… did you come from the fields beyond the mountains? I don’t think I recognize your accent.”

“Ooh, wow that’s neat!” Turin said, impressed. “Yeah, I’m from beyond the mountains- I’m a ground courier in the Till Dawn Merchant Guild, so we’re kinda from everywhere, going everywhere.”

With a grin she patted her mule on the neck. “This bad gal here is my ride back after I deliver these spices to the Fort in the Telaurgen Ruins.”

“Um, you might need to rethink your delivery route. The fort is deserted, ruined like the rest of the city, and it’s been like that for the past few centuries. You won’t find a living soul there.”

Magnater shuddered - the stories of ghosts there always made his blood chill. There were apparitions - spectral visions, living as they did before the city had been ruined. Disembodied voices shouting commands and screaming. And some people said that, in some places, the ghosts had a stronger presence, strong enough that they could grab at the living.

“Are you sure you’re not meant to deliver those spices to the former commander of the Fort, who now lives in the tunnels beneath the mountains? Your guild would be reckless to send you into the ruins without protection.”

“Wait, the Fort has been gone for how long?” Turin asked, and then gave a heavy sigh.

“Alright, then. I was told to deliver the goods to the Fort Commander, but nobody said it was gone. As far as I was aware, if I was to deliver to the Commander, then the Fort should be there as well. Since it isn’t, well-”

She paused, noticing the other’s almost fearful reaction to the mention of the Fort in the Ruins. What had scared him so badly to shake like that?

“Are- are you alright, sir? I was going to ask if you could show me the safest way past the ruins and through the tunnels, but if the thought scares you then I can go on alone. It’s no big deal, really.”

Magnater took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. But you shouldn’t go through the ruins, and you shouldn’t go through them alone. You probably haven’t heard the stories, because, if you did, you wouldn’t suggest going through the ruined city, not even as a joke.” He took another deep breath. “The ruins are badly haunted, and it’s better not to disturb restless spirits. If you lose your way there, you have a chance of never returning.”

Noticing he was making a grim face, he made a point of taking yet another deep breath and clearing his expression into something a bit cheerier.

“I can show you a better way. There’s an entrance to the tunnels in the ruined city, but there are other entrances that aren’t as dangerous, and I could go with you there.”

“You, uh-” Turin idly scratched at her mule’s face. In response the animal shoved it’s face into her armpit. She grumbled and turned to check the contents of a large saddle bag. The mention of restless spirits had spurred a plan- Likely useless for anything other than boosting morale, but it was better than nothing.

“You don’t look fine. At all. But if you want to show me a better way, I’m not complaining. Heck, I might have a few protection charms in here that’ll help us out, no matter where we go! Beaded strings, carvings and stuff.”

She dug through the bag for a minute before she found what she was looking for- Safety charms, made specifically for long travels.

“And I was right! Didn’t forget them like last time!”

Coming back around to the head of her mule she began to attatch them to the bridle- One brightly-colored yarn braid on each side and hanging where throatlatch and headstall met, dyed shades of gold, green, and blue. Then, in the middle of the browband went a trio of flat iron discs, small enough to fit in one’s palm. While the outer two bore overlapping circles, the middle was an overlap of squares and triangles.

“There we go, charms for safety, wealth, and Merchanter’s luck!”

Magnater took a quick look at those charms. They didn’t look like they had been actually blessed for protection, but they did seem to carry some symbolic meaning. And symbolic meaning was better than nothing.

“Well, I’m not fond of the idea of ghosts,” he explained. “Other things are easier to deal with, since you can actually hit them if they try to get you, but ghosts? I’d rather fight a dragon ten times my size.”

He glanced around. That other way were the ruins, and he would not head there without a very good reason. That meant that further ahead they’d find an entrance to the tunnels, even if it was a bit hidden. He started walking and waved at her.

“Follow me, it’s this way. Oh… and I just noticed I don’t know what to call you. What’s your name?”

A quick jog towards the dragon slayer, and the group was more or less walking in sync.

“My name’s Turin. No relation to the probably mythical Disaster Hobo, name aside.” she said, offering her free hand to shake. “Good to meet you, sir…?”