Joan
Zane Harmattan
Castle Grunewald, Taemar

Zane didn't get much sleep the previous night, a messenger sent from Angelica asking him to come see her. He had Nero take Robyn back to his room, the drunk boy waving his father off, telling him to go deal with what was happening.

Once Angelica had informed him of everything that happened, he had quickly snatched Mikhail from his meeting with Bradai and escorted the young man to his room, not paying too much attention to the boy's questions.

Most of the night he stayed by the door, eyeing everyone who walked by, eyes full of distrust. It wasn't until the end of the night that he slipped away, changing and cleaning himself up a bit, grimacing as he saw the bags under his eyes.

When they made it to the council, Zane quietly followed Mikhail to Anyanka and Angelica, before he nodded to the two. He idly nodded to Eric as he approached as well, before turning back to the women.

"Want me to take over?" Zane asked Angelica, his voice a bit coarse from his lack of sleep.
Heather
Marsila Vema 
Vallen, Taemar

They had been so close to leaving this god forsaken town. No matter how simple she hoped her journey would be, it had already begun with a drunken brawl. She had the best of luck, note the sarcasm. Not once did Marsila think to intervene as she witnessed Arin take on both of the men single handedly, amazed by his strength and precision even though he was coming down from his own toxication. The scent of blood hit her nose immediately when the aggressor was hit through the leg and then his neck. She hadn't expected Arin to murder the man, nor did his companion as he charged towards him with pure rage in his eyes. 

Her hands tightened around Romia's reins as she mentally debated whether or not to help Arin. However, Siona made the decision for her as she planted her knee into the man's head, effectively knocking him off Arin. They could have left while he was dazed on the ground, but it seemed the woman wanted to further his injuries by slamming her foot against the man's neck multiple times until he was no longer conscious or breathing. 

Marsila was pissed. She wanted to yell profanities towards the two who were to accompany her, hating the fact they had murdered two men. Instead, she bit her tongue. She hated death when it involved humans, only preferring to use her arrows and blade against beasts she had been hired to capture or kill. Knowing Arin would most likely find it impossible to hold onto his horse's rein's with his injuries, Marsila's eyes darted between the woman and Arin's stallion. Mentally cursing the two out, Marsila threw her leg over Romia's back before sliding her body off. She brought Romia towards the woman and Levi before rushing towards Arin's horse and began climbing onto his saddle. The horse snorted disapprovingly before throwing its head back and rearing onto his back legs as Marsila tightened onto his rein while holding onto the saddle with her free hand to prevent herself from falling off.

Turning her attention back towards the two, she silently wished she hadn't crossed their paths. "Siona, I want you to climb onto Romia, my stallion and you will need to be the one holding his reins. *Levi*, Since you are unable to use your hands, you can either jump behind me or you can ride Romia with Siona. He won't try and throw either of you off unlike this one." She ordered while indicating towards Arin's horse who was still giving Marsila some trouble as she sat on his back. "Now let's leave now before the guards come and throw you two in a cell."
Sarah
Arin Cragton
Taemar 

Arin slowly climbed onto the back of his own horse. He didn't trust the other girl, yet he didn't trust Marsila either. He just assumed she was the better rider based on their previous conversation. When he settled onto the horse he wrapped his cut hands as tight as he could bare. He could feel his eyes starting to close on their own and his head lulled onto Marsila's shoulder. He closed his eyes slowly. 

"I'm sorry." He said before drifting off into the inky void.
Heather
Marsila Vema
Vallen, Taemar

When Arin chose to ride his own horse with her, she simply shrugged her shoulders in response. Unfortunately Marsila's life just had to become more difficult as the man began to lose consciousness. Exhaling deeply from annoyance, Marsila began to unwrap her coat that covered her body before slipping the material from between the two of them. With great awkwardness, the shifter brought her hands behind Arin and herself so she was able to cover his back with the coat while bringing the sleeves back to her front. Marsila then tied the two sleeves tightly into a knot so the unconscious man wouldn't fall from the horse as they rode, which he would have done so if she had left him limped against her back. Once she was certain her handiwork wouldn't fail her as she swayed her body to test it's strength, the shifter turned towards Siona.

"Are ready? Just hold on to the reins and Romia will follow. Your only job right now is to not fall off."
Joann
**Siona O'Callaigh
Vallen, Taemar**

Siona looked up at the horse, breathing out and preparing to climb on. She could ride, though she had never been particularly good at it, and had always been a little nervous around horses. Stealing herself, she gingerly grabbed hold of the reins in one hand and the saddle in the other, and pulled herself upwards onto the horse, Romia it was called. Settling in, she looked back to Marsila and said, "Lets go."
Michael
Wisdom Serafina
Castle Grunewald, Vallen

Serafina smiled, nodding as he admitted to Emin and Reuben being the gods he primarily worshipped. Of course, there could have been other minor gods, but those were merely reflections. Her gaze flickered to the bard's face as he suddenly switched topics without giving her a chance to respond. Perhaps he was uncomfortable lingering on death? Serafina chose to pay the speculation no mind as he continued. 

"People are dying," The Wisdom replied simply, "It is an unbearable burden for anyone. But the burden is not ours, it belongs to the Gods. They will deliver a cure." Glancing upward, Serafina inwardly cursed the height of the tower. If Gregor intended on winding everyone so they would speak less, climbing so many flights would certainly do the trick. "As for the Queen, when one strays from the Gods, it is inevitable that they will experience difficulty and confusion amidst their path. She cares for her people, but her care is vastly outweighed by the Gods and failing to seek their guidance has led to..." She paused, "Distractions."
Lawrence
Kallophon Dikegora
Castle Grunewald, Vallen

Kallophon gave the Wisdom a quizzical look. It sounded to him like she was calling the Queen an infidel. He *Had* Heard rumours, but he hadn't believed them; it didn't make sense to him that she could get away with not being totally pious. It appeared now, however, that she was failing her spiritual duties, and that she indeed was not getting away with it. Was this Wisdom trying to catch her out during her time abroad?

"I often wonder if I, myself, stray. I am cantilesblood, and yet I forsook my father's business in olive oil so that I could pursue a career in the arts. I once thought that my lesson was that I needed to break away from my father's legacy and follow my dreams. I do much to revere the gods in my art, but am I sinning nonetheless? Or am I still a true cantilesblood if what I sell is an artistic service?"
Michael
Wisdom Serafina
Castle Grunewald, Vallen

Serafina listened to the bard intently as he spoke of his own life. She noted his misconception that breaking away from a family business was an affront to the Gods. If she were to speak plainly, she would have reminded him that such an insignificant shift in careers was hardly something to catch the attention of the Gods. 

"I cannot speak to your lesson. Perhaps it was to seek your own path or perhaps it is something you have yet to learn." She replied, glancing at him with a gentle smile. "You needn't fear repurcussions for following your dreams. You honour their hand in your life by participating in and sharing the arts with friends, families, and strangers."
Rosa
Warden Persephoen Timtams-Ramsalot-Thugsby
The Castle Grunewald, Front Entrance

By the time the rightful crown princess of Feyshore rolled into Vallen, she was practically kicking the door of the carriage open. The Wrencrests had taken them down the Great Walk, which served as a great relief. She had spent the past two years walking _back_ from Taemar, after her wedding. By the time she had returned to her home island, another Council of Marin had been called. She had only been home after about five days, and in that time had started to get the feeling that her people weren't doing so hot. It wasn't that they were sick or dying, just that the winter in the first year of her absence had been so terrible that the majority of them froze to death in their homes and beds. Persephoen put her hands on her hips and took in a deep whiff of the sights and smells.

"I got married here, you know." The Warden of Rikkon reached into her satchel and removed a small, golden crown. She placed it snugly on her skullcap, nestled within the thick briars of untamed brown hair. "It was actually on a beach about six hours from here. I had my wedding in the skeleton of a great whale. An old woman died. If we had done it here?" She gave a sigh, shaking her head. She looked down at her shoes, shaking her head. She was shaking her head as hard as she could, trying to rid the memory of that fateful day from her frantic, shaking head. She gripped the hair on the side of her shaking head and jostled herself from left to right. After a solid five minutes shaking, she straightened out her back and turned to a Wrencrest servant. 

"And that's how you ma—" Persephoen watched as the man walked right past her, unloading crates from the backs of the wagons. "You!" She said, pointing to the servant. "Day laborer!"

The man turned around slowly, clearly beleaguered by the time spend on the road. "Yes, milady?" 

A small smirk crossed her face. "Look closely." She instructed, voice dripping with satisfaction and shaky head dripping with sweat. She had about to shake her head for another five minutes before a large hand found its place on her shoulder. She looked up to see her thumb of a boyfriend, six foot five with a corn-fed head that went right into his shoulders. She swooned.

"Haha." Thugsby said, "Hey babe." 

Persephoen loved her new boyfriend. This one had hair and object permanence. "Thugsby, ask the nice man if Nickles Ramsalot is here, and if he is here, what exactly is going to happen to him?"

The servant, who had heard everything, didn't wait for Thugsby to repeat the question. Thugsby, not wanting to disappoint his girlfriend, asked anyways. The result was two people speaking at the exact same time so that neither could be heard. 

Perspehoen shook her head in thought, rubbing her chin with an errant pointer finger. She hmmed briefly. "Hmm. Very interesting. Very interesting indeed." She reached into her pocket and threw a copper coin into the man's chest as hard as she could. The two made their way up the steps to the Castle Grunewald.

Thugsby took a knee near his diminutive girlfriend and gave a brainless smile, "Haha, I'm so excited for this Council of Marlin, babe."

Persephoen could smell the dried blood in the entrance way. "The Marlin is in the building, babe."
Lawrence
Bennard Wrencrest
Castle Grunewald, Vallen

Bennard stepped down out of the carriage. "Thank you, Sigmund." He fixed his sky-blue chaperon onto his head before assisting his wife down onto the ground. After her was Ivagneth, but she ignored her father's helping hand, making her own way out into the open air. She turned so that Jade could leap up into her arms. Feineth hurried up to join them; cradling the cat, Ivagneth stood by her and began an exchange of whispers, turned away from her father. Bennard gazed at her vacantly until Adelhayd put a hand on his shoulder, and beckoned to the girls to follow them inside.

There was a strong theme in the family's choices of attire. Bennard wore black leather riding boots and bright-white hose. His lean torso was dressed in a dark-blue doublet with a high, stiff collar embroidered with silver wings; they sprouted from the buttoned throat and nearly touched at the back. Over the doublet, he had a tunic that, like his hat, was a soft-blue colour, and which was decorated with fluffy white clouds. This same image of a smiling sky continued on his cloak, which was fastened by a sun-shaped brooch of what looked like real gold.

Whereas the house patriarch wore a jaunty firmament, the three present women of the house were wrapped up in night. They wore deep-blue kirtles beneath sleeveless jet-black dresses, which were embellished with captivating patterns of silver stars that had long, swirling arms. As with Bennard's arrangement, their cloaks mirrored the designs, and their brooches were silver crescent moons. These dresses were adorned with neither train nor tippet; they were minimalistic, yet swelling with the eternal beauty of nature, to evoke Bennard and Adelhayd's ideal image of the Witherlands and its culture.

In terms of the aesthetic designs provided to them by nature, Bennard and Feineth were quintessential Wrencrests. Uncle and niece were both were deathly pale, flaxen-haired, and had haunting eyes the colour of azure. For Feineth, the narrow, elegant features of the Babens blended with these nearly too-fair hues; her mother's tapering jaw, in particular, lent her a somewhat foxlike appearance. Bennard had a long, serious face, with a closely trimmed beard, and a nose that, thanks to a defect that was common in their blood, turned crooked leftwardly at the end. The "Wrencrest nose" Had thankfully spared Ivagneth, who favoured her mother with the squareness of her face and the greyish element in her blue eyes.

They made there way inside. Bennard heard from Feineth that Lady Persephoen had gone off ahead, along with her strange lover. He sighed, making no comment. He didn't care what she did; all that mattered was that his own stayed together, and got something out of the experience. The bog bread they were made to eat before attending the council was, perhaps to the surprise of the servants, a welcome snack to them. Adelhayd explained with great pride that she and Bennard maintained a 'worldly dining table' at home, and that there were few foreign delicacies that could take a Wrencrest tongue by surprise. Bennard gave a satisfied sigh as he bit into the spongy food; something about the texture was pleasing to him after such a long, stiff journey.

As they ascended the tower to the throne room, Bennard shook his head in dismay. "I can't believe Lord Marshall isn't here," He said to Adelhayd in hushed tones. "Will they even listen to us without him being present? Our image as a kingdom is tentative enough. Even if some of our acquaintances in Terresol are here ..."

"Hush, my love. They'll listen to Sibyl," She said, giving him a reassuring smile, "And Sibyl will make sure our voices are heard. This is our chance to show them all that we aren't just another 'savage clan from the northern wastes'."

"Aye," Said Bennard, his shoulders relaxing. "You're right as ever, dear." He patted around one hip, then felt the other, and found the scroll he'd tucked into his belt. He pulled it out and held it against his breast. Looking back at Ivagneth and Feineth, he said with a cheerful tone, "I'm so thrilled to have you with us, girls. It's said that politicking and managing foreign relations are all part of man's domain, but gods strike me dead, Ivva, if your poor mother doesn't do all the politicking and relation-keeping in our affairs while I, ha, brood and brood in my solar!" 

Adelhayd caressed his shoulder, shaking her head as she giggled. He continued, "Hull is going to do great things for our house when he's lord, but I don't doubt that you're going to be the hand and face in the duties for which he is not suited, Ivva, much like your mother is with me. You too, Feineth. Duties such as this."

They stepped inside the throne room. A retainer followed behind, carrying three folding chairs. Bennard and Adelhayd surveyed the room while Ivagneth and Feineth tended to their dear feline. They gasped when they saw Spitza standing by the doorway; Adelhayd caught both girls by their shoulders, and Bennard interposed himself between the creature and his family, with wide arms and wide eyes. After a moment of staring at the abomination, Bennard relaxed and affected a laugh. "A very, um ... A very exotic jester, it seems. My my, Taemarian entertainment, completely offe—upending our foreign expectations. Quite a thing to behold, isn't it, Ivva?"

His daughter gave a withering sigh and caught Feineth by the arm, moving onwards into the room. Adelhayd grimaced slightly as she joined arms with her husband, and moved to follow the girls. He stumbled slightly, and gave Spitza a small wave as he stammered, "Good day to you, sir."

Once further inside, Bennard scanned the room for his liege lady. Adelhayd whispered into his ear, "Bennard, she's over there," Pointing to Anna. She guided them over to the Barrmount, beaming at her. "Lady Sibyl!" She called. Bennard stopped short of Anna, swallowing, and whispered to his wife, "Dell, that's Anna."

The Lady Wrencrest turned almost pink with embarrassment. "Anna! Lady Anna, of course. Forgive me—you're so like your dear sister! Where is Lady Sibyl? Is she speaking to the king?" She looked over at the throne, and furrowed her brow when she saw no sign of the woman.
Heather
Marsila Vema
Leaving Vallen, Taemar

Without wasting another second, Marsila dug her heels into the horse's flank and forced the horse into a gallop with Romia following closely behind. She leaned her body forward to help maintain balance with Arin passed out behind her, hoping the knot would become loose during their departure. Luckily for the three, the guards arrived at the deceased bodies minutes after, giving them enough time to flee without having to worry about being followed. 

The four of them continued to gallop through the small roads that lead out of Vallen with Marsila leading them. She wanted to start their journey directly towards Ibethiel, as it would be the safest and quickest way to reach Terrasol but she knew Arin would need immediate help in regards to his hands before they became infected. The last thing they needed was him to suffer through blood poisoning and leave Marsila with only Siona to help find and fight the beast. Pressing her lips together until they began to whiten from the pressure, she decided to pay a small visit to someone she hoped would help with their situation. She barely knew the woman, having only met her a few times as she travelled through Taemar. Perhaps she could also help with regaining Arin's consciousness.

Tugging lightly against the reins, the horses slowed from their gallop until they fell into a walking pace. It had been almost half an hour since they had left Vallen and she felt it was safe enough to continue on a steady stroll. She knew it wouldn't be useful if they were to exhaust the animals they rode on so early on during their journey. Turning her head slightly to glance towards Siona, she eyed the woman to make sure she wasn't having any issues with Romia before returning her gaze to the front. 

"I know of a healer not too far from where we are currently. Since we will be stuck together, why don't you explain more about your *Abilities*" She still wasn't sure of this woman and wanted to know as much detail as she could about her. Marsila was unsure if she could trust the woman enough to allow her to know about the youngling Marsila was truly after and was to keep that a secret until she was certain Siona wouldn't attempt to prevent her from capturing the baby owl-griffin after going through the mother.
Sarah
Arin Cragton 
The void 

*Asleep*
Joann
**Siona O'Callaigh
Taemar, Leaving Vallen**

Siona felt Marsila looking at her as they rode, slowing down once they had left the city, and snapped her gaze towards her companion, the man, "Levi" As he called himself, slumped over onto her back. It seemed Marsila didnt trust her, though Siona couldn't blame her. Not many people trusted those who could use magic, and Siona knew she had a tendency to be rather intense as well. 

Finally, after a long silence, Marsila spoke up, telling Siona she knew of a healer who could help Arin, and asking exactly what Siona *Could* Do, which Siona felt was fair. She hadnt exactly gone in depth. 

Rolling her shoulders back and taking a deep breath of the fresh air outside of the city, Siona looked forward down the road. "I can control wind and cold," She said, "And I can summon spirits and other creatures, though it requires a significant amount of blood to do so, as well as some mental acumen. I keep vials of blood on me though." At that, she lifted her cloak again, and dug around in the leather bag she carried over her shoulder, and dug around, before producing four medium sized vials, dark red liquid inside, and showed them to Marsila. "Dont worry though," She said, smiling slightly to try and break the tension that had grown between them, "Its my own. I don't use blood from other people. But this way, I don't have to continually hurt myself just to use my magic."

Siona did not, however, mention her ability to enter and manipulate other peoples dreams. For one, the amount of set up and preparation required to achieve that was enough that it made it largely impractical if she was traveling. Unless they had days the prepare, it was unlikely she would be able to ever use it. But more importantly, it was not an ability she wanted people to know about. A skill like that could very quickly foster distrust and fear, and there was already enough of that in the rag tag band Marsila had managed to build in Vallen.