Raign nodded once in acquiescence and agreement, displaying neither like or dislike for his proposal as to how events should progress. In all honestly, she hardly cared, as it was they who harped on about secrecy - but admittedly she would rather the one than the other. Danil Tharkan was in all likelihood acceptably intelligent and powerful besides, but that did not mean she had to like him. "Raign Terhin," she introduced flatly, wondering not a little at the sudden intrusion of the woman before her. Had she noticed her, coming in? Raign couldn't recall. She mentally shrugged it away. Didn't matter.

Lucan would have spluttered about Lady Raignheidra Terhin, but she didn't see the point of it. To introduce herself as Lady was presumptuous and seemed to imply that she expected to be called such, which she did not, quite. Raign Terhim was enough. If they knew of her already - and they might; one could never tell - then they knew enough.

_________________

Elenya, Arren was referring to Garvan.

Welcome, Aerlinniel.

_________________

Fyreg quietly eyed the exhange of words between his fellow participants, he didn`t want to get involved as these matters didn`t interest him one bit as long as they were taken care of. He would rather concentrate on things when they would actually get to the point when he could call this mission a proper job or in other words, when the killing started. Fyreg hmhed as the two others introduced themselves briefly and blankly, they weren`t giving away anything specific huh? Well no matter, it would be easy to dig up information about them no matter how stubborn they seemed because this one by the looks of it wasn`t going to be a short journey.

"Fyreg Kalgaar"

He said as he stood with his hands still remaining on his belt, but his stance was low more relaxed and his hands hanged onto the belt instead of a proud filled stance. He gazed around as he spoke, perhaps just hoping for a slight twitch in someone`s eyes as a sign that he had been recognized. Yet no matter because after this trip, he would have his name known and hopefully extend his fame to the army, who might prove out to be useful employers in the future as well as allies.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

((Gotcha! Wanted to make sure before I posted.))

Garvan tried to interject a response as Arren talked to him, but didn't get a chance. His mind was working, though. <i>If I act like I'm going along with this, I'll be able to get out of the whole deal when we leave for supplies.</i>

He nodded to himself, but still felt a twinge at the back of his mind. He had been a soldier in the army for seven years, and it felt wrong somehow not to respond when a new crises came up. Running a hand down his left arm, he could feel the long scar he had gotten in a particularly violent fight. If it had not been for one of his friends, his life probably would have ended on that day.

He realized he had hardly noticed the others' names, but responded in turn. "I'm Garvan Breen."

Amungst all of the names, Endymion put her in.
"Laraina Endymion, and am prefered to be called by my last name," she spoke, then stepped back into her corner, and leaned against it, mindfull of her quiver of arrows. She crossed her arms, and bowed her head, causing black strands of hair cover her face. Someone who didn't know her- all here- would think it was in shame if they payed attention. But it wasn't. Laraina was in deep thought.
I try to help, and am pushed down. Pha! Why do they need me? Obviously they have their tracker. "A knat through a wind storm". Me it's a shrimp through semi-choppy water. And I've met plenty of men who could out muscle or out parry me easily. Maybe it's my skill with a bow. It's possible. I could have easily gotten the supplies, she only half payed attention to what was going on. The needed arrangements were being made, so she didn't need to do anything... but a question was blooming in her mind.
"What if these things or thing is something that cannot be tracked, or killed?" It was only a wispered, muffled by her hair, but was audible by those closest to her. Then another thought came to her.
What if what ever it is... destroyed my... she didn't finnish the thought, and was glad her hair covered her face...

((forgive me for anything misspelled or having bad grammer... it's late for me, and am in a hurry... I'll fix it in the morning if anything is wrong...))

_________________

(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

Altair spoke up in reply to Endymion's question. "Then we, my dear lady, are in for one heck of a time, don't you think?" His body was stooped, making him appear smaller than he really was, and probably a lot stupider too. "Altair," he said for his name. he briefly wondered if anyone would reconize the name and then realized that he didn't care in the least whether or not someone did.

He in turn reconized some of the names, but not many. Lady Raignheidra Terhin he knew and Fyreg Kalgaar's name he reconized, but the rest were just names to be assigned to faces.

_________________
Four Gods wait on the windowsill,
Where once eight Gods did war and will,
And if the Gods themselves may die,
What does that say for you and I?

Now, three Gods wait on the windowsill
Where one God's blood was lately spilled
While black tongues lap at the spreading pool
And build the strength they need to rule.

ak. double post, having trouble with site. apologies.

_________________


<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

(sorry for not posting; I was away looking at some really old ruined stuff.)

Aidne acknowledged Danil Tharkan's inquiry with a nod. She stood to speak, dropping her mask for just a moment, her presence now commanding rather than hesitant. "I'm called Aidne Sarasdat," she said, and ensured that nobody in the room missed her words by dropping her native Thoronus street accent in favor of something more refined. "I've been a private contractor for the military for quite awhile, so I'm aquainted with most of your names, if not reputations." She neglected to add that her statement was applicable to the men; the women, excepting Raign Terhin, didn't fall into that category. "Let me assure those of you who are questioning this mission that the military tends to make its compensation proportionate to the risk involved. I have no complaints - had I, I would not be here." She turned to Thrakan. "I'd be delighted to accompany you."

Aidne stooped to pick up her basket; as she straightened, she let the mask fall again, subsiding into a commonplace city woman, slightly harried and with too many errands to run.

It looked as if the mandatory initial posturing had almost finished. Aidne knew from experience that these sessions were used to establish hierarchy and project character impressions, but they were also useful in determining the relative experience of those not directly involved. Those who reacted with visible impatience or trepidation at the argument had clearly not sat in at many group sessions.

Her own philosophic silence had been engaged in evaluating all persons in the room, while carefully noting the center ring proceedings. As important as discovering true character was the discovery of projected character. Manipulation was born of such knowledge. And, as an emperor's poet had once said, "All the world's a stage." What protagonists did these people think they were playing?

_________________


<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

It stinks when the comp crashes. I much hate it. We can try to keep possibilities open for you to return and play as Líadán when you can get on a comp long enough to RP, Aerlinniel. No worries.

------------------------
Okay, really, while perhaps there were some chances for interesting convo between characters while 'gathering supplies' or whatever, let's just skip ahead, shall we? That way, since nobody else seems to be making a move, those who don't have any moves planned won't get bored. Everything necessary can be done in flashbacks--specifically Garvan's posts, Elenya. I realize that this might be a little difficult for your character development, but it keeps people from losing interest in this before it's even begun.

Melda....it's up to you to name the ship.
------------------------

As the ship slid slowly away from the pier, Arren smiled in satisfaction. For a tracker and hunter, cities could be somewhat overwhelming. They were, in short, his worst nightmare, for a criminal who made it into a city was notoriously hard to track--nigh on the verge of impossible.

Hundreds of ships were in the great bay at any time, considering that Thoronus was both the capitol city and the largest port. Ships from all over the Talyrian empire could be seen, and some from beyond it. Imperial galleys, built to be at once swift and powerful, sped through the water in comparison to the lumbering, loaded-down merchant vessels. Troop transports unloaded new recruits and auxilaries, who would then march to one of the fortresses in the foothills beyond the city for training.

Ship captains shouted and cursed at each other as they were forced to change their courses slightly to avoid collisions and other less-than-good possibilities.

In the midst of it all, Arren's satisfaction faded, and was replaced with a sense of foreboding. On which of these ships might spies lurk, waiting to give information on their actions to someone else? Would their efforts result in their death? It was a question he was all too afraid to ask himself.

The echo of footsteps on the deck behind him caused him to turn around. The one person who had made it to the meeting before him stood there. Earlier he had introduced himself as Jhondael, but had not given any more clues as to who he was or his purpose on the assignment. Still, his numerous weapons and his armour implied that perhaps he was merely there on the occasion that they tracked down the Andayon garrison's bane.

Jhondael brushed his blond hair out of his face--although it was considerably dirty, it didn't look ragged or unkempt. In fact, it looked more like it had been intentionally dirtied. Arren frowned. For some reason, he didn't much like the man.

"Do you know something about what we're facing that the rest of us do not, Jhondael?" Arren asked, indicating the man's accoutrement.

Jhondael smiled grimly in response. "Not exactly, no. I'm just here in case more force is required. The weapons are simply due to the lack of an armourer."

Arren's frown deepened. The man had probably meant armoury and it came out the wrong way, judging by how many of the weapons he was carrying. "Wouldn't it be easier to simply keep them in your pack or something?" he asked.

"That could be potentially dangerous, so I prefer to keep them directly accessible," Jhondael replied.

Arren nodded. That, at least, was understandable. Still, he had other things to attend to, and he didn't enjoy the presence of the man.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to go talk with Tharkan," he said, before brushing by Jhondael and heading belowdeck..

_________________

I shall once again be away, this time for a week. Feel free to powerplay my charrie, just don't kill her! Thx

=========

Once aboard ship, Aidne swung the pack on her back to the deck, retiring to an out-of-the way position on the forecastle. She'd stopped to pick up the pack, containing some clothes and tools of the trade, after she and Captain Tharkan had finished overseeing the transfer of goods from his ship to Raign's. They had mostly been basic supplies: foodstuffs, kegs of ale, and a few barrels of the citrus necessary to prevent scurvy. She'd tried pumping him for more background information - she knew only that he was a cavalry officer of some distinction. However, he, as well as the others, were extraordinarily close-mouthed. If the group was ever to function effectively as a team, they'd have to develop some trust. Skulking in corners with hoods drawn over heads did not facilitate that.

Staring idly out over the water, she shaded her eyes against the glare of the noontide sun. The tide was beginning to recede; they would undoubtedly be leaving soon.

_________________


<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

Raign took the stairs belowdecks two by two, the ease with which she navigated the ship speaking of long familiarity. Another short flight of steps took her into a broad room hung with hammocks and partitioned off into two sections by sheets hung from the low ceiling, one section markedly smaller than the other. Within it was every hammock excepting Raign's, which wasn't a hammock at all but a bunk in her cabin. She and Lucan had fought over that, loudly and not at all politely, Raign vehemently asserting that she had no more right to a cabin than anyone else - it might have been her ship but she was not the captain - but he'd won in the end. She could let him have the smaller victories, she supposed, though even with the great amount of common sense Raign possessed, it rankled. Not for the first time, she wondered how, being younger, she was the leader.

Shaking off the continuous debate, Raign scanned the hold and ducked behind the curtains, to find the personage she'd been looking for. Teirha raised a questioning eyebrow. "My lady?"

"We'll need three more hammocks here. And..." she paused to glance over at the opposite side, "five over there, if there's room. I'll - "

She stopped. Teirha just grinned. "I'd counted already, m'lady. There's room, if they're not averse to jamming in a little tight."

"They'd better not be," muttered Raign under her breath, ducking under the hung sheets again and striding towards the stairs, intending to speak with Captain Valtair.

_________________

Endymion had done her own shopping for what she needed for the journey before heading to the ship. She had gotten two bags of taffy, one her favorite flaver, the other a discusting taffy that made her puke. Both would serve her well on the trip if her stomach started acting up. She also bought a special liquid to help calm her stomach if the need arose, all was bought with her own well earned money. And it arose sooner than Laraina had hoped it would.

As soon as she stepped onto the ship, her stomach started doing backflips. Endymion hightailed it to below deck. A few minutes later she felt her lunch coming up, but new it would stay in her throat for awhile and torture her. That's where the bad taffy came in. She stuck a small piece in her mouth.

And then she ran up onto deck, and leaned over the rail, and she lost her lunch. Breathing hard, Endymion, drank deep from the liquid for her stomach.
"Motion sickness is not fun," she mumbled, leaning on the rail. "Especially if you travel as often as I do." Endymion sighed, and took another gulp from her flask of liquid...

_________________

(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

<i>"So...?" Siyem left the question open. Garvan had been trying to think of a suitable answer from the moment he had left the building.

"It was an old friend of mine from the army- we were in the same battalion. Well, he's gone into the tradin' business and needs help guardin' this shipment he's got. He knew I live here, and thought he'd offer me a job." He spoke confidently, lightly. He was a master at hiding thoughts and emotions- a skill learned from years in weapon training. "It doesn't pay bad, I can tell you that."

Siyem frowned. "Why you? There are plenty of swords for hire."

Nodding, Garvan said. "Aye, but you never know how many of those you can trust. I won't be tryin' to cut his throat and make off with his money in the night."

After more questions, Siyem had fallen silent. Garvan knew that was the closest thing to a 'yes' he was going to receive, and started packing. He only took a small bag, with his bedroll, cloak, and a few other essentials. He also put his sword, bow, and arrows into the pack, leaving his two daggers in their usual place at his belt.

He convinced Siyem to stay at the house instead of going with him to the docks. After warning that it could be a long trip and he would have many chances to write to her, they had said goodbye. Siyem seemed a bit distant in his arms. Maybe she could tell something more was happening. Garvan thought about it on his way to the ship. He was a good liar, yes, but a good enough one to fool his own wife?</i>

Stepping onto the ship's deck, Garvan had to stand still a moment. It had been years since he had sailed, and he wasn't used to the roll of a ship. Hopefully he would get his sea legs soon. He went belowdeck, not wanting to talk to Arren or any of the others.

In a quiet corner, his thoughts went backwards. Why had he come to this ship? He could have stayed at his home, or maybe left with Siyem for a few days in case anyone came to find him. His fingers traced the scar on his arm again. A friend had risked his own life to save Garvan's. He had told Siyem if it wasn't for his seven years in the military, he wouldn't be the man he was, physically, mentally, or emotionally. <i>I owe my life to those men.</i>

Yes, perhaps quite a bit of the call to duty still lingered within him. He couldn't deny, though, that fear had also been part of his reason. That Melwyn had made it clear treachery would be rewarded with death. <i>I'm not afraid for myself.</i> He thought. <i>But I did show Siyem that letter. If I didn't go, who knows what might happen to both of us?

Here I am then, sittin' in the innards of some broken-down ship. Breen, you should'a thought through this more. What if something happens? Siyem would-</i> He cut of that line of thought. Standing, he walked back up to the deck and leaned against the rail, looking out over the water.

"Boring ain`t it?"

Fyreg inquired casually as he suddenly appeared next to Garvan, who didn`t seem to want anything to with the rest of the group all tough truth be told none of them were making friends amongst each others. Fyreg himself found this as the perfect opportunity to study and examine his fellow `companions`, what a load of.... They were all alone in this world, groups, cities and the empire itself were lies. Everyone was out for themselves and others had managed to be born into a noble family or gain their power, wealth and fame. It really took him back, back to the day he had been just a kid.

He had been all alone on the streets, the other kids and gangs that were around were only seen as competition. He had crushed those that had been weaker and avoided those stronger than him, he had crawled and struggled to achieve his skills. Those skills might have seemed petty to a soldier of the empire, but then again Fyreg was not the type that liked to play fair or give mercy. Whatever you did was acceptable as long as you survived.

"As I earlier on said, I am Fyreg, so... what brings you to this happy cruise? Devotion to our glorious empire?" He guessed with the sarcasm and hate shining trough in his voice. "Or perhaps you own gain?"

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

"Boring, ain't it?"

Garvan looked up to see the red-haired man join him at the rail. He nodded as Fyreg continued.

"What brings you to this happy cruise? Devotion to our glorious empire? Or perhaps your own gain?"

Garvan shook his head and shrugged. "Neither, I s'pose. That "High Captain" of ours didn't make it sound like we had much of a choice in the matter." He glanced at Fyreg, then back at the small waves lapping against the ship's side. "The way I see it, I'd rather die facing some monster than with a knife in my back in a dark street. B'sides, it's been a long time since I was off this island. Maybe I wanted a change of scenery, too."

He stood and stretched. "So, what about you?"

Fyreg hmhed quietly at his answer and scratched his neck after brushing aside his ponytail, he gazed at the sea quietly and once again looked back at his childhood. There had been many times he might have been stabbed in the back literally and yet he had managed to slip out of those situations as, if he had become immune to daggers. Yet he knew his limits and never overestimated his own armor or defense in any manner, that`s why he preferred to stay on the offensive. He glanced at Garvan quietly before looking at the sea again.

"Just in for the money, bashing some skulls on the way hopefully and at the end of the day drinking my well earned ale. It`s thirsty work.... killing that is... and in the end it doesn`t matter who or what I kill, as long as I get payed for it."

He answered with a wide smirk on his face as he made the last remark and gave the impression that he clearly enjoyed what he did, but there was a moment of apathy in his words in the end.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!