Closed Rounding Up

[Ricky Maze]

Rounding Up Part 3.3 of The Part of Moving On Winter 50th, 512 AV; 18th Bell After every obstacle we come across we find a greater one stands before us, it is then we are left with a challenging decision to make. Either face it and struggle to perservere once more, or give up and run away from it. What we do is left up to us, but it's what's waitong for us at the end of each road. Both paths are a test we must face, and it is when we face it with courage and hope... that we learn who we really are. The sun was two, maybe three, bells away from setting on this cold evening. The afternoon was late and finally ending as the colors of the sky were painted orange, the sea and its wind blowing in the cold salty smell of Zeltiva even outside it's gates. Ricky waited here for this Wrenmae he was suppose to meet with, although it was a bell ago since he arrived here and still no sign of anyone. Of course this was due to the fact that he was early, what reason he was early for he didn't really know. Now of course was the time when the others were to arrive, at this exact destination. He remembered the details he had been given, he was suppose to recruit two dozen able-bodied guardsmen like him. They would be willing to make a stand and protect the home they love, whether the others Ricky had invited would come would remain to be seen. He understood if they had plans or changed their minds of course, as this no doubt was the sort of thing even he wasn't comfortable with. Yet the bold and daring are ones that are rewarded in life, for they claim their happiness instead of waiting around like the rest. Ricky was done waiting for something thag was never happening, no he would make happiness for himself if he could; and that would be by getting stronger first. Ricky waited with his longsword tied to his belt, the cerulean uniform he wore bringing back all the memory of his duties. His posts, shifts, and the routes he covered as a guard this season were all interesting as far as learning experiences go, yet after today he would advance even further in his career so he could do more. Be more really... more than just some fisherman.

[Wrenmae]

The blue held a luster of a fading day. Red light soaked the cobblestone in rivers of transluscent blood, a dying morning making way for the bleak eve to follow. Already cold wind blew across the waters, crept around corners, nestled in bones.

Wrenmae was dressed at his best, his Waveguard uniform was tight across his narrow chest and the black steel cloth cloak had been turned inside out for the purpose of this exercise. For precaution's sake, he wore his leather armor as well, the blades at his side clanking lightly against the cured leather.

This was Ignotus' scheme, but one imagined by the two of them. Personally, Wren had requested Trente and several of the Martial Association attend as well, hoping to marry the two organizations in a common purpose. They would train together and learn to fight together. By the end of the week they would patrol together and slowly, their merging would begin.

Ricky was the first to the spot, an example of prompt and deliberate action. Wrenmae had heard the man mourned the loss of a dog, a faithful companion from a season or so back. The fact he had pulled himself from that sorrow and stood here to make a difference in Zeltiva was a testament to his priorities.

"Hail, Ricky," The Waveguard said, waving to the man with a warm smile, "Early to the mark...impressive." He glanced behind him, back toward the city and then to Ricky again.

"Are we the first to arrive?"

[Ricky Maze]

"Hail, Ricky, early to the mark...impressive." The strange came before him wearing the same uniform, but there was no mistaking who this man was. Wrenmae. Ricky had a feeling in his gut that this was the man he was waiting to meet, and now the time had finally come at last! "Are we the first to arrive?" "Aye lad that we are," Ricky spoke with detirmination, and attempted to hide away all traces of anxiety. "I take it yer Wrenmae then. I've been lookin forward to officially meetin ya." He confirmed with a humble tone, a loose but well maintained smile remained; keeping his appearance friendly as possible. He couldn't help but examine Wrenmae's appearance, aware that some features made the man stood out differently. For instance Wren seemed to be lanky but there was more there, something along the lines of experience that seem to prove there was strength within. The looks of the eyes proved to be friendly windows with a hallowness Ricky couldn't comprehend, a hollowness that made a man truly unpredictable. Keen perhaps? No doubt cleverness remained hidden within his mind, for Wrenmae had the look about him. A well experienced sort that was all but plain, a shrouded mystery waiting to reveal itself whenever. Ricky hadn't but concluded all this within several chimes, and still kept an open mind as he picked up from the next question. "We're about half a bell early mate, couldn't wait any longer as I'm eager to get this started. I recruited every likeable soul who would join our cause, but the rest I'm afraid is up to ye." He crossed his arms in a casual manner, eyes filled with curiosity on Wrenmae's abilities. "Ye are the one that'll do the trainin, or am I mistaken?" He kept his attitude humble and his tone friendly, and most importantly contained within him the ruahing anxiety that begged to escape.

[Weylin Quickshot]

Weylin Quickshot had heard word of this gathering for a while now, and it was an idea she could not help but embraced. It was appealing to say the least, and no doubt would keep her out of trouble. It would bring her to a point of focus, to channel her mind on something, anything. And so Weylin attended, wrapping her cloak around her shoulder, her hood pulled up to cover her bruised face, something that was now an embarrassment on her part. Since being in Zeltiva it seemed that she was a magnet for trouble, for hurt and for pain. But tonight she was going to change that.

She presented herself the best she could. Her bow and quiver at her side, a knife hanging at her waist. It was more that obvious that she was not some flower that was ready to be crushed; she was capable to stand up to most harshness after all. But her appearance remained androgynous and no doubt would remain so until a closer inspection was made. She clicked her wrists, making herself ready to face whatever challenges were going to be placed before her this night. She spotted however the two men already at the meeting point, and her quick pace slowed. Was she already late, no, she was certain she tried her best to arrive on time if not earlier than expected. So she straightened her back and marched herself forward.

The two already seemed in conversation, both dressed in uniform, a keen look to begin in both of them. Weylin chose not to interrupt straight away; she waited for the key moment in which to step in, keeping her ears pricked and listening. The leaner one she caught the name of, Wrenmae, but the other was still a mystery.
"Hail, Waveguard," her voice still carried the Drykan accent, but it was neither friendly nor cold; it only showed respect to those who obviously stood above her. For tonight would be the night, that Weylin would pour in all her focus and a new life would begin.

[Wrenmae]

Ricky had an air about him, the sort of upright moral bastion that reality had once tried to crush before. He could almost see the stress fractures on his soul, his emotions, and it was enough to convince the Waveguard that Rayage had chosen aright. He’d need men with raw experience behind them, almost broken men and women who all had tales to tell and stock to take in the growing crime in Zeltiva. He needed defenders, not bright eyed optimists without a drop of blood to stain their hands. Weylin he’d seen before and as always, her boyish demeanor and stark strength brought a small smile to the hypnotist’s face. Mizahar wasa full of all kinds of people, some that weren’t even people. Weylin was a survivor, he could tell that about her…or at least could infer it. She had a quality to her not easily measured…they both did.


Smiling at them both, Wrenmae drew his rapier and cut the air with it, weaving strange patterns before letting it fall to his side, although never touching the floor. “Welcome then,” he said, “You both are the hope of Zeltiva…anyone who arrives tonight is the hope of Zeltiva. With plague and crime ravaging our city, we must take a stand against tyranny and become more than swimmers.” Out came his rapier, tapping against each of their weapons in turn before returning to his side. “We must become guardians of the peace and champions to the weak…in such a way that no fiend will ever have the opportunity to cut down one of our numbers again.”

He had no need to say the name. Kipp’s death had shocked the community and the Waveguards had been rattled to their core. Although death was not a stranger to their volunteer services…no one had targeted them before with such audacity, such fury and malevolence.

“We’ll begin simply with stating your name, your home of origin, your weapon of choice, and your stock for being here. I want no one chasing glory or stories for the whores of East Street. I need people invested in the safety of Zeltiva…so convince me you are, or walk away.”

[Ricky Maze]

Ricky felt dertermination grow inside him even more, the way Wrenmae spoke was like a hero so to speak. A leader from a tale or story rallying his comrades in arms to take action and keep hope alive, for Ricky this was an inspirational thing the guard was doing nonetheless. 'He'd make a far better leader then I ever could.' His thoughts were pure belief from pure observation, Ricky didn't feel he were capable enough to be here. Yet there was that easy reminder of a fallen, one of their own he had failed to protect when he could've been there sooner. There was no time for more mistakes, there was only time to unite for one purpose; and that was to protect the very home they had lived in. Ricky may have lacked the confidence to be here, but his indomitable will to perservere demanded to prove himself worthy. He wanted to be a guardian, he wanted to protect the things that mattered most. “We’ll begin simply with stating your name, your home of origin, your weapon of choice, and your stock for being here. I want no one chasing glory or stories for the whores of East Street. I need people invested in the safety of Zeltiva…so convince me you are, or walk away.” Wrenmae spoke and waited for a reply, and when he did Ricky was the first to speak his mind. "My name is Ricky; I know not if I was born in Zeltiva but it has always been my home, been raised in it from as far back as I can recall. I use the longsword for combat, though I admit I could use some pointers." There was a smirk that followed the comment, the truth behind it no doubt more than obvious. "My reason for bein here is because of one thing though, and it'll be one thing I'm glad to get through; and its the failure that still haunts me." He took only a moment to breath before continue. "When I got back I found that I had no house left, and just when it seemed to be bad enough I lost my dog to a slaver... Ever since then I've been but a failure, and then the murder on East Street made it even more clear. I'm done with not bein able to protect my home, whatever happens today I'll make damn good sure I'm stronger; I'll prove that I can defend my home." He wasn't sure if there was confidence in his voice but nonetheless he stated his purpose here, now it was left out in the open to be judged by the other two. Sure the opinion of a random lad would matter some to Ricky, but his attention was more so focused on Wrenmae. To hear what his fellow Wave Guard would have to say, and hope that his cause was in fact worthy to consider. The others would be here very soon no doubt, after all this day was approached rather slowly, but it was the end of today that was the slowest to come around; sure enough the rest of world longed it.

[Weylin Quickshot]

For a moment, Weylin was silent, if anything because she was translating the common tongue to Pavi. Her brow creased. Some parts were difficult to understand, but in the end she understood the basis of it. Zeltiva needed men and women willing to stand up to the crimes, and to be able to lead it into a brighter future. And Weylin hoped she would be able to be one of those people to take a stand. For a moment she was silent, ensuring that her next words were correct. It was easy after all to say the wrong word when meaning another in a foreign language.

“My name? It’s Weylin Quickshot, or just Weylin” she said, her tone neutral with the Drykan accent ringing out “I hail from the Endrykas and raced about upon the sea of grass all my life. Well until recently of course. Personal reasons,” she gave a shrug, not wishing to dive into that part of her past before she then carried on “For combat, I use the short bow, though if you need to have a fist fight I’ll have a go at that too.”
But then there was why she was here. The nagging question on what she could bring them, and how she could serve. She felt the bruise on her face, remembering the close calls she had on many occasions, of the nature of people, but also if it was not for the few others that stepped in then a lot worse would have been played out.
“When I first arrived here, I came here looking for a new start,” she paused for a moment, thinking carefully as the words translated in her mind “But then, when I came here I realised that even a place like this needs all the help it can get. Even from all the narrow escapes I have had and all the fears, I want to stand up to it now. I have had enough of running away.”
She swallowed but a look of determination filled her face “I want to make this place my home, so be I fresh, foreign, or an outsider, I am sure as damned going to try and protect it.”
If it was not for the language barrier between them, Weylin no doubt would have said more, but she highly doubted the two men could understand Pavi, let alone speak it. She gave a firm nod to show she had finished, and waited quietly for a judgement to be past.

[Trente]

*
The suction of perhaps a too dramatic morning gust ripped through the suddenly opened door, which a moment later let through a rather chilled Trente, and following him a stocky man adorned with a heavy fur cloak and a set of finely sharpened battle axes by each hip. Altogether the entrance dwarfed the charisma of those that now stepped along the cold ground of the abandoned warehouse. Trente recognized the warehouse, sure enough, and knew full well when Wrenmae had first set foot in it. His eyebrows jumped in a tired intrigue, before settling down to a passive distaste for the hour. He was not sure if the location was the wisest of decisions, not with the lingering taste of danger left in the air, following the auction. Still, it seemed private enough, if lacking some warmth.

The chilled man pulled his worn and resewn Ravokian attire closer to his neck, to shield from the intrusive chill before lazily opening his mouth in greeting, only to have the deep guttural voice of his companion burst through the large building with bold echoes.

"I am Hroar, child of both Syliras and Sunberth, I come to offer the aid of my blades where they might cut most surely in the name of my patron God Yahal." His robust words were only matched in strength by his overwhelming pride.

To this Trente stifled the smallest of smiles, letting out a short huff of pale grey mist from between his parted lips. He let out a gentle shake of his fatigued head and set his lantern down between those gathered, to have a good look at them all. His eyes only lingered on each for a moment, with a look clearly displaying his distaste for the morning to his summoner, before winces at the pain upon his side and straightening back up to look again to Hroar, which in his experience would not cease speaking until someone stopped him.

"I have come at the calling of Wrenmae, heralded as the Wave Champion of Zeltiva. Which one of you fine men," he paused and squinted eyes, dwarfed by his stout, yet ruggedly handsome face through the darkness, "and woman, is the Wrenmae I have heard so much about?"

Trente gave an expression of diminished entertainment as he took a bite of dried bread, and sighed, thinking of the eggs Matilis could cook up at home, and hoping they weren't black and diseased like the ones the day before. Finally he decided to put an end to Hroar's ridiculous ranting, with a measure of his own.

"Hroar," his voice came soft in comparison, with a certain nonplussed nature to it, "this man here in the cloak is Wrenmae Wilmont, Trident Champion of Zeltiva, and casual member of the Martial Association of Zeltiva." He then let out another sigh, and pursed his lips a moment before holding a hand palm first and finger tips down to indicate Hroar. "And." He paused and looked at Hroar then back to the group.

"This here is, Hroar Wulfgaard, also a Trident Champion of Zeltiva, and generous member of the Martial Association." His eyes narrowed slightly, not so much in jealousy but what appeared to be some degree of physical pain as he brought himself to say the words.

In the moment of silence provided unintentionally by Trente Hroar pronounced, "I am glad that you said that friend, it would be disgraceful to boast of my own accomplishments, even slaying disgraceful pirates in the name of Zeltiva, and helping protect food goods through the pass during an avalanche, also in the name of Zeltiva, without monetary reward, is-" Trente's eyes then went wide as he tried to ignore the rest of his speech till it came to an end, at which point he gave an impatient nod.

"Yes, yes, Hroar, perhaps we should listen to Wrenmae explain why we are here now." He then slipped the last of his morning bread into his mouth and pinched at the bridge of his nose, looking anywhere but to the hulking mountain of rigid muscle to his side.

"Yes!" Exclaimed Hroar, winning a slight jump and wince from Trente who quite intentionally took a step away from his companion. "Trunt here believed I should let him go alone to this meeting, but a true warrior must choose his own path, and make decisions with his own ears, and eyes, and mouth." He then smiled and nodded.

Wrenmae's observatory powers were the only in that room capable of realizing Trente's internal contemplation upon hearing the gruff variation of his name on how difficult it would be to remove the man's voice box from his throat before bringing a retaliation of swinging axe blades upon himself. In truth the odds looked slim, so Trente just closed his eyes and waited for the superior warrior to finish his incessant yammering.
*

[Aoren]

Riddled With Rewards Ricky Experience Skill XP Earned Philosophy + 1 EXP Storytelling + 1 EXP Lores • Lore Earned • Philosophy: The Obstacles Ahead • Wrenmae: A Man Who’s More Than He Seems • Storytelling: The Home I Left Wrenmae Note : Hi there Wrenmae! If you find yourself returning to Mizahar toss me a PM and I shall post your grade! Trente Experience Skill XP Earned Storytelling + 1 EXP Socialization + 1 EXP Lores • Lore Earned • Storytelling: Who I Am, Where I Came From • Social Nuance: A Grand Introduction Notes : • | Trente: Hi there! I see you’ve logged on fairly recently but I can’t tell based on your ledger whether or not you’re up to date on your seasonal expenses. You might want to place a date next to the deductions to make the differentiation in the future. If you have comments, questions or concerns please approach me at your earliest convenience. Don't forget to edit/delete your request in the request thread!