Bad Wolf (Paragon)

[Eridanus]

Day 6, Winter of 511 AV
Evening
En Route to Syliras

They were almost close to Syliras. Eridanus could feel it, from the smoother roads, the more fellow travelers and merchant wagons, to the occasional knight patrol. Even the air began to feel less wild and the ethaefal could almost swear that he had finally caught a 'whiff of civilization'. Zenai had given him an odd look when he mentioned that while riding in the day, but he shrugged it off, apparently in too high spirits to be bogged down.

He had spent the last few nights self-training and conducting introspective meditation in order to keep his body and mind supple, for the constant riding throughout the day was ridiculously monotonous. If there was a way he could set his body on auto-mode and let it run he would be more happy to, but unfortunately he had to constantly be on alert lest ChrysanthemumChewer decided to be frisky and throw him off at that moment. One moment of unawareness could either paralyze or kill him.

He decided that tonight would be his designated 'rest day' instead, and he sat at the outer rings of logs around the bonfire, not eating anything for the moonlight from the sky was enough to fulfill his nutritional requirements. Instead, he listened to the various conversations going on, himself entering a semi-meditative state while opening his sense of awareness, trying to catch and process all the different conversations going on.

It was a test of both his calmness, ability to multitask and to mentally differentiate differing sources of sound and content. It was still relatively easier than the tiring training regimen that he regularly exerted on his body anyway.

[Paragon]

Eridanus had always held certain values close to his heart. His morals, for one. Self discipline. Integrity. And a solid belief in practise and dedication to whatever skills and talents he was training in. As he sat quietly, he focused in on the voices around him, the hushed words of his travelling companions. It was no simple feat, yet he seemed able to pull off such concentration with a level of alacrity. Having closed his eyes for just a moment, to focus on his other senses, something made him open them again. A presence nearby. When he turned, the crackling flames illuminated the silhouette of an animal, turning and softly padding away from the camp. There were animals often enough in the Wildlands, encroaching upon camps to try and scavenge whatever scraps they could, but this creature was different. Eridanus felt something from it, but in the brief connection of closeness, he could not tell what the feeling described. The animal did not run away, it merely walked back out into the darkness, beckoning the Ethaefal to follow.

[Eridanus]

His eyes were closed, his mind at ease and his spirit ready and open like a sponge, constantly processing and analyzing the information that was flowing throughout. The problem of the art of Intelligence was not the lack of information, rather it was often the idea of too much information that could flood one's processing faculties. Indeed, the true art of Intelligence was the ability to briefly scrutinize every and all sources of information, knowing how to distinguish between the types of conversations, and distributing one's focus accordingly.

Strangely, while he was doing so he had the sudden feeling like he was being watched. It was not the kind of feeling where members of his group sometimes glanced at him, wondering what he was doing and why he was not joining in the conversation.

No, the feeling came from behind, and that made his hair stand, for behind him was naught but trees and darkness. He trusted the shields and magical barriers that were thrown up by the agents of Ionu dispatched by the Alvadas Government to ensure their safety, but there was this nagging feeling that overwhelmed his usual sense of paranoia, and he knew that this was real.

Opening his eyes in a sudden panic, he turned around sharply, finding himself looking at a silhouette of a four-legged animal that resembled a large dog or a wolf. It was unclear, and stillness of the figure combined with the camouflage provided by the flora almost made him convinced that he was paranoid.

Until the cackles of the bonfire threw a flash of light towards that direction by chance, and briefly, he saw it. More intriguingly, he felt it, and when the light disappeared and the shadows returned the feeling disappeared along with it.

He felt a very strange sense of connection, and as he began to rise his logical faculties instantly derided him. What if it were some form of hypnotism? However, he knew that even kelvics rarely used magic, should that animal be one, and he also knew that the shields formed by those marked by Ionu's gnosis not only functioned effectively as djed-blockers, but also as anti-illusion and anti-hypnotism barriers.

Therefore, it could only be something else.

That sense of mystery, combined with the strange feeling that made Eridanus want to just find out more caused him to stand up with a jolt, drawing strange glances from the nearby agent who was chewing on a piece of barbecued meat.

"I'll be right back," He muttered, jerking his head towards the direction of where the animal went. Taking the two long swords he had placed beside him for his own personal protection, he sheathed them into the weapon harness strapped on his back, making his way towards the animal.

It padded away with a sense of confidence, in a slow but measured manner like it had all the time in the world, and the ethaefal followed, cautiously but also curiously.

[Paragon]

As Eridanus got closer, he could see the creature was a wolf. Larger than most, its fur was grey-blue in hue, the strands long and thick, bristling in the gentle wildland breeze. Soon enough, Eridanus was not following from behind, but walking alongside the beast. There was no sense of fear beside this wolf, it merely kept walking, glancing across to the Ethaefal every so often. Though they had strayed far from the camp, out of the magical shields and protection, the man from the heavens was oblivious to the distance they had travelled. Nearing a copse of trees, the wolf stopped dead in his tracks, turning to Eridanus and looking at him carefully as if measuring up his appearance. And then he opened his mouth, as if to howl, but spoke with the fluid grace of a high born human. It held a deep tone, and an authoritative, knowing presence. "Do you wish to follow me all the way mortal?" The wolf sat back, seemingly scratching his ear with his paw. "Do you always walk so aimlessly?"

[Eridanus]

As he approached the strange animal he found that his initial assumptions of it either being a large dog or wolf was correct, or partially at least. It was a large wolf, though it was not large enough to tie it to a Talderian heritage. Its grey-blue fur lent it a hint of surreality, though for some reason the ethaefal was not alarmed at this.

Instead, the two of them walked side by side in silence, the wolf moving on its own path known only to itself, only turning its head to check if Eridanus was still beside it. It was a surreal moment, a phase of time that could be described by emotive poetry. Two creatures, both not entirely normal, walking together as if they were equals.

It was a sort of trance, and there was the sense of meditative calm that washed over the leth-born as the duo widened the distance between themselves and the protective wards of the campsite, but finally the wolf stopped, turning to Eridanus and spoke.

Normally, the ethaefal would have been quite alarmed, and his mind would have quickly searched for signs of foul play, whirring into an analytical mode. Instead, the poetic serenity of the entire incident caused him to react quite calmly, as if it was perfectly normal for this whole thing to happen.

The wolf addressed him as a mortal, and this acted as a knock on the head, partially waking him up from this dream-like sequence, causing him to look sharply at the animal. Only two types of beings refer to ethaefal as normal. Fools, who do not know the true nature of what ethaefals are, and beings who hold more divinity than the celestial heritage that leth's fallen children possess.

The wolf is clearly not the former.

I follow you in search of answers, for I do not walk with reason; it could be said that my purpose for this walk is that of investigation and resolution.

However, the words did not come out verbally, and remained in his conscious thought. Instead, he simply replied, "Who... What are you?"

[Paragon]

The wolf watched Eridanus, as if he were the strangest being in reality. The question made him smile, as best as a wolf could smile. "I do not wish to deceive you, mortal, but it would be best to find out later. I promise you will have the answers to your question later." The creature twisted its head, cobalt eyes gazing through the thick trees to something occurring on the road nearby. Eridanus found himself looking to, still intrigued by the identity of this wolf. There was a caravan, and several people milling about it. Having come to a stop, someone was checking inside the caravan, while others watched around. "That is a slaver caravan," the wolf said matter of factly, "probably bound for the Syliran cities to sell slaves acquired elsewhere." The wolf turned back to Eridanus, gazing into the man's soul. He knew of many of this man's qualities, his discipline having drawn the wolf to him initially. But those values had to be tested. Mortals often outwardly conformed, but reacted very differently in real situations. "What do you think of that? I would very much like to know about your reaction."

[Eridanus]

Eridanus shrugged in response, if the wolf promised it would deliver. He had no idea where he got this conviction from, but the trustworthiness of a mysterious talking wolf was the least of his curiosity.

It suddenly turned to look at something, and this act drew the ethaefal's intrigue, causing him to shift himself so that he could try to see whatever the wolf was looking at. The two of them were mostly blocked by the shrubbery, but he could vaguely make out figures of people bustling about a caravan.

Seems like another group of travelers like ours.

The wolf remarked that it was a slaver caravan, and it turned back to look at the ethaefal with gaze that burned deep into the core of his soul, asking for his response.

A slaver caravan.

He thought about his enslavement more than a century ago by the zith, and the harsh life that he lived, having to constantly obey his slavemasters as their tool, deprived of his own freedom and his right to pursue his own goals and happiness. It was a dreary existence, and death would at least be a reprieve from the constant suffering, which was why many slaves chose to commit suicide when they could no longer handle the physical and mental torture.

Not him.

For months, years he had planned. Planned and planned, creating alliances with other slaves, secretly holding meetings, holding negotiations, all the while staying out of his slavemasters' suspicions. On that fateful day his meticulously planned rebellion succeeded, though at the cost of many slaves' lives. Still, those sacrifices made it possible for the rest to escape, and he was fortunate enough to be one of them.

He thought about the season he spent in Sunberth. A lawless city of anarchy, slaves were a common resource, as well as acts of robbery, abduction and murder. He had been attacked by slavers when he first arrived there, and had brutally murdered them in response to their attempt to enslave him.

He remembered how he had to contain his disgust at the sight of the crowds in the Slave Markets, and how he felt anger growing in him as he saw, one by one, bid by bid, the slaves being auctioned away. Their freedom sold away like a commodity.

But he had to control himself, for going against the established practices in Sunberth was suicide. It was him against the city, which he knew he could not do.

These thoughts caused the very inner parts of his soul to start burning with a bright fury, and the fire within was beginning to reach a fevered pitchWe could have had it aaaaalllll~ Sorry couldn't resist .

"Complete annihilation," he whispered harshly, his hands itching to draw his blades to deal judgement on them.

Yet.

His years of worship to Wysar and his dedication to discipline his mind through meditation had left its mark on him. He was no longer the emotion-driven creature that he was many decades ago. He remembered how many in Sunberth were forced to crime because they were too weak to go against the people who forced them into it, and he knew that only those deserving judgement should be judged.

His mind flitted back to Antar Noth and Zenai, among with his many other friends back at the campsite with whom he had gone on slaver raids before, but from the way they were packing up, they might long be gone before he managed to bring back his friends. He could not risk the freedom and lives of the slaves inside just so that he could feel more secure.

"If they are really slavers... I will offer them a chance at redemption. For those who refuse salvation, I will be the instrument of righteousness and let Dira be their judge," he muttered silently, more for himself than for the wolf.

[Paragon]

The wolf looked at Eridanus with contemplative eyes. There was nothing bad about revenge, if it was a disciplined crusade, of righteousness and deserving grace. He had touched a nerve with this mortal, he was sure of it. "Well that is interesting..." The slaver's caravan was still stationary. Perhaps the slaves had been troublesome and now they were being punished for their insolence. Slavery was a terrible practise in Wysar's view. One had to have their own personal integrity and discipline. Slavery seemed to counter that at every turn. "So you would measure their values first, and then you would fight? Very interesting indeed. Would you walk with me? Would you come and speak to these slavers for me?"

[Eridanus]

Eridanus cocked his head as he looked at the wolf curiously as he contemplated the creature's suggestion.

How would those other people view a talking wolf?

He supposed that it would not really matter, for perhaps it might wield the same charm it used on him to make them feel that it was perfectly normal for a woodland predator to behave and talk like a aristocratic human being.

It was not that he did not trust the wolf, for he already felt a sort of kinship or emotional connection to the animal. However, his rational mind demanded cold hard logic before committing to any actions, and that meant that he had to confirm for himself that they were indeed slavers and not a bunch of travel-weary adventurers.

He knew that some slaves were forced to fight as well, risking their lives for the protection of their lazy slavemasters, and he knew mindlessly rushing into the fray and slaughtering anyone armed with a weapon was highly unfair to them.

It was the harder path to take, but yet the one that he felt was more right.

Eridanus always had the penchant for taking the hardest path possible to him. Yet it did not matter as long as it was the right thing to do.

"Let us walk," the ethaefal agreed. He would follow the wolf's lead, walking alongside it and seeing how it would approach the situation.

[Paragon]

The wolf nodded in response, padding as softly as it had come to the camp, towards the slavers caravan. Eridanus followed quietly, the wolf impressed by the man's steel thus far. There was more to test though. Much more. The caravan was a wooden thing, lacquered in dark shades to disguise its travel on the roads at night, with a rich brown horse at the front to help draw the vehicle along. Three men were fussing about the caravan, brutish in appearance, and quite obviously criminal. "Slavers often pose as merchants," the wolf whispered, "but there are slavers in the caravan." As they approached, the three men turned to look at them, at first seemingly flustered by this random appearance in the night. Their eyes wandered to the larger than life wolf. "Being a wolf, I leave the talking to you mortal." Eridanus looked to the men. The slavers, as the wolf had identified. His next words were bound to his own free will, but would they display the courage and virtues of his own mortality?