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Tipping the Fates


Nina

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Jhan considered what Ardan and Artoria said and after they were done he looked at the silent Meara, who avoided looking at any of them. He spooned some more of the stew Aroria had made into his mouth, surprised at how tasty it was considering how little she had had to concoct it with. He chewed thoughtfully, “Hmm... you are both right and you have my apologies, young you are but all three of you are of age, and so what you do is yours to decide. I will take your advice Ardan, and go to the village to tell the council.”

 

Setting his bowl aside he struggled to his feet and looked around. “I see my weapons are not here. How far to the village girl?”

 

Meara looked up, “From here take the path it will lead east and south. When you come out of the hills you will be near where my families sheep graze, south from there bearing away from the hills and half a days walk will bring you to the wall.”

 

Jhan nods his face sternly blank, “Then I'd best be off, Ardan can I take your bow and quiver? I may have need of a weapon and you have that...sword.”

 

Ardan hesitated a second then gathered them up and gave them to Jhan. “Don't worry Ardan, I won't lose them at least not unless I am dead this time.” He looks at Artoria and Meara then back at Ardan. “This is a dangerous path your taking be careful and may the three guide you and watch over you.”

 

And then he abruptly turned and was through the crevice and out of the cave. The three looked at each other.

 

It was Meara who broke their silence. “Jhan is right this is dangerous. I can't lead you to your dooms I should just run as far away and let the thing chase me at least then you all would be safe.”

 

Spoiler

The Three are the gods/religion of this part of the world. if the game goes beyond this adventure I will elaborate on them in the setting section.

 

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"And risk it catching and turning you into one of those witches with a child-sized oven in the woods? Not gonna happen," the blonde bladesmith intoned lowly from her seat, polishing her axe for the task ahead, "This *is* a problem you made but you don't get to give up. Help us wake up Ardan's sword to kill it. We two can't, have the wrong kind of smarts. If you're not smart enough, find out who is and and talk to them, a priest or something. And if we can't do *that*, finish the contract and make sure the bad stuff your new pet does happens to worse people. We'll keep you from becoming a sheepdog who hunts lambs, one way or the other."

 

"Too late to run away now anyway," she chuckled to herself, looking down with a bittersweet smirk, "When Jhan gets back to the village, my kin will be first in line to grab a spear from the watch hut just so my Dad will have the chance to yell my ear off for being so stupid. Ain't gonna let them get hurt doing nothing while I wait." 

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"You two followed me, despite knowing the potential for danger when we came out here, Meara.  Do you really expect us, as your friends, to do any less for you?"  Ardan smiled at her.  "Whether by the bear, or the chaos spirit, death would be death.   I will not run when my friends are in danger and it is within my power to save them."

When Artoria mentioned her Kin and father, Ardan winced.  "Yeah, and I fully expect one hell of a lecture from my own father when we get back.   Still, I will take you where I found the sword, and with any luck, we can empower it, so the next time this spirit shows itself, we'll be ready to seal it, or destroy it."

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Meara blushed at the words spoken by her friends and smiled her gratitude. Standing she set about smothering the fire and gathering her things, “I fear we shall all have to answer for our actions when we return home, hopefully with a tale of success.”

 

They left the cave and Ardan took the lead, turning them back toward the mountains and south into the heavier woods. The walked mostly in silence, Ardan and Artoria alert while Meara seemed preoccupied, the other two hoped with some spell or something to banish their foe.

 

Hours past and the hills fell away but the wood were thicker. They stopped and ate made some small talk but, in the end, the silence felt more comfortable. After eating they continued deeper into the woods but now heading almost due west, in the direction of the mountains.

 

It was late afternoon when they arrived at the glade and caught their first glimpse of the great old oak where Ardan had found the sword.

 

There was still several hours of daylight left but here under the umbrella of branches it was as dark as twilight. The oak was ancient and to Ardan’s thought, much larger than he remembered. The three entered the glade and approached the tree, they could make out the large knot grey and rough where the sword had been the slit for the blade still visible.

 

As they approached a cool breeze blew but Ardan and the others noted that it blew against the wind that had been blowing earlier. The leaves rustled and the Oak seemed to sigh. The air grew chill and the wind blew stronger creating little swirls in the leaves which blanketed the forest floor. Above them branches creaked and shadows danced.

 

The three youths moved closer to one another and Meara mumbled some unknown words and the tip of her staff lit with a soft glow which bathed them and the immediate area in which they stood in light as if she held a candle. “Is this then the place you found it?”

 

“Yes,” Ardan said quietly.

 

Artoria shifted her hand, wringing the haft of her axe. “I feel like we are being watched.”

 

“We are,” said Meara. “There are ghosts here, come to hear what we are about. Ardan, tell them who you are and how you came upon the blade. Speak boldly, for I think we are being judged.”

 

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Ardan stepped forth, not drawing the blade, but his hand rest on it, almost tenderly.  "I am Ardan Tarsin, son of Kaylen and Rosalyn Tarsin, our family is old, and those who came before rest beneath the soil of this land.  My father keeps the peace, and my mother prepares food for others, and has raised three children.  These woodlands have called to me from an early age, and from another they speak to, Jhan, I learned their ways and paths, the rules one must follow, and proper conduct.  Some time ago, I was called here, to this spot, to this tree.  This sword.."  he finally drew it, it's blade seeming to almost sing as he did so, and continued.  "It was here, planted within this tree.   I felt as though it called to me, and I took it, and drew it from the tree."   The next bit was a truth he'd seldom uttered aloud.  "It chose me to be allowed to wield it.  I don't know it's name, or how to make it mine, other than to earn it.  I live my life helping others.  My friend's in trouble, and so we came here, hoping to truly awaken this blade, to learn its name.  I cannot say whether my life is something it would say is worthy, but I will live it as I have.  It is a life I would not change, for good or bad, for it has made me who I am."   

The sword was light in his hand, as if it were a part of him, and that made him smile.  He thought I do not regret drawing you, and it is my hope that you don't regret allowing me to do so.

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The wind picked up and several of the swirls of leaves grew to the size of a man until half a dozen of these swirling leaves stood around the tree, then men stepped form them, men who the three young adventurers could see through. the leaves seemed to swirl with in them and the men, ghosts they supposed walked around the tree until they circled it. the ghost nearest Ardan turned to face him.

 

The translucent apparition was tall, almost as tall as Artoria, but slim. The clothes her wore were of a style unknown to Ardan but even not being fully there , Ardan could tell they were richly made and fitted to perfection. The mans features were fine with a straight sharp nose, wide set eyes, and a full sensual mouth that held a slight grin and a strong chin. He was mustached but his cheeks and chin were bare. His hair which seemed to be white was long and curled, falling about and beyond his shoulders. At his belt was an empty scabbard. He reached out a hand and brushed the blade of the sword, there was tinkling sound as of windchimes distant to the ear.

 

"This was my blade long long ago. I was called The Prince of the Scarlet Cloak and treachery brought me to here and betrayal named this my final resting place. If it called to you then blood of mine flows in your veins, but I know you not. It is yours, Ardan Tarsin, until another with greater claim, should there be another, comes along. I do not know your worth and the veil of time does not open for the dead so I cannot know your future. The blade is yours, prove your worth to it and the world and it shall prove its to you."

 

Spoiler

none of you have seen clothes like that worn by these and none of you have ever heard of a prince of the scarlet cloak

and no the ghost is not wearing a scarlet cloak

 

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Ardan beheld the spirit and the blade and nodded.  "I will not fail you."  It wasn't entirely clear to whom he was speaking, but his tone was serious in the extreme, and would at least briefly remind the others of his father.   Stern and Serious, but fair and loyal, and very steadfast.   Ardan was his father's son, even if they walked different professional paths.   He smiled, and rehomed the blade in the scabbard he had for it, and gave the tree, and the strangely clothed spirit before them, and then turned back to his friends, giving them a small smile.  "Not a complete victory,  but certainly not a waste of a trip."

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Artoria and Meara had stood in fear and awe at the coming of the ghosts and the words the one had spoke to Ardan. After Ardan sheathed his blade they apparitions faded away leaving them alone in the glade. Or so they thought.

 

The darkness lifted and the sun shined through the branches a bit more make the glade look less ominous and more inviting. Meara stepped up to Ardan and clappe dhim  on the shoulder, she was proud of how her friend had faced the ghosts, "That was wonder...."

 

"Shhh..." the sound came from Artoria, who had been uneasy as the ghosts had stood among them but when they faded away her uneasiness did not. She was unaware when she had taken her axe from its place at her belt but it was in her hands as she turned scanning the edge of the glade. Ardan clutched the hilt of his sword and looked around but he saw nothing.

 

"You need not the axe in hand, warrior woman, we mean you no harm."

 

The voice was melodious and pleasant to the ear. The three spun to face the voice and saw a tall slim being, its sex unknown, for it looked both male and female yet neither, He or she was unearthly beautiful to behold, long dark brown hair straight which fell about their shoulders, large luminous eyes slightly slanted of a hue of violet no human eye has ever been. They were dressed in rugged leather of brown and greens at their belt two long knives and on their back an exquisite long bow. 

 

"We heard the Taign call as we were passing. It is a call we have not heard from here in a long long time so we stopped to investigate. I am called Temerille."

 

Spoiler

you only see one but thye speak as if there are more.

 

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"A pleasure to meet you," Artoria replied, keeping her expression neutral and fighting both her unease at being neck deep in fable territory and pleasure at being recognized for what she was trying to become. She needed to keep her head about her to keep up with her friends. The blonde bladesmith was *not* going to be the rock dragging them down, no she would not.

 

"My name is Artoria," she offered, fighting the urge to kneel to what she was sure was some kind of Lord or Lady, wracking her brain for whatever scant lessons she'd ever heard about how to not get your head cut off for offending one of her betters, "My friends are Ardan and Meara. How may we help you?" 

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Temerille smiled, there was fear in the three human youths, but they did not tremble and cower  faced with the unknown, something the humans that now inhabited this land usually did when faced, without warning by his kind. He looked at the great oak, the Taign had called, perhaps...

 

"We do not need help, as I said we," several more of the beings stepped from the trees, " heard the call of the Taign, this one has been silent for tens of hundreds of your seasons. It roused us in our journey, we thought it wise to investigate and we found you and the spectres, and heard what they said, when they left  we thought to show ourselves to you and now that we have, perhaps you would join us for the even, share a meal and rest with us."

 

They came toward the tree moving easy and gracefully, one, broad shouldered and bear of arm came to stand by Artoria. Artoria saw that this one was of softer features but the arms that were bear were heavily muscled, yet still proportioned and graceful. When the being stopped by her and gazed at the axe still in her hand, Artoria realized that this one was a girl, she could make out the slight breasts under leather and fine mail and that her hips were more rounded but still slim. Her hair was a lighter brown too. 

 

"Is this your work?" The lady asked indicating the axe. Her voice while as melodious was actually of a deeper timbre and was soothing. She raised her eyes, a golden yellow in color,  from the axe to gaze into Artoria's.

 

Artoria glanced over at her companions who were talking with the others that had come in from the wood.

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After all the strangeness, Ardan had thought nothing more would surprise him.   Still, multiple humanoids speaking their language, looking to be of indeterminate gender, and then one introducing themself, and inviting them to dinner.   That was  what had just happened, and the serious young man could only wonder how much more craziness happen in such a short time.  
 
Ardan nodded.  "Alright, I think we should take them up on their generous offer.  Something tells me this isn't something that happens often, which goes right along with everything else going on."  He smiled to Meara and Artoria.

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At the mention of food, the rumble of Artoria's stomach betrayed her. Growing up mostly motherless had forced her to master enough traditionally female skills to not end up eating bread and hard cheese with every meal, but inadequate rations were still inadequate rations. Distracted by the focus of the golden-eyed female, she muttered a vague, "Of course."

 

"It is, my Lady, product of the Aching family forge by my hands," she gamely recovered with a shot of pride in her craft, "Helped put down a bear that was threatening my friends without so much as a hint of mar. I could share the rest of the story over a meal."

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The elven ranger, for that is what she was, laughed at Artoira's statement, “I would like to hear that story, let us join the others and eat, I fear your stomach betrays you.” The Elf put her hand upon Artoria's shoulder and led her the the rest of the group, “You may call me Fendarlel, and I thought I recognized a kindred spirit!”

 

The Elven rangers and the three human youths soon found themselves enjoying a hearty meal and warm companionship. Artoria told the tale of the bear and that led to both Meara telling the remainder of the story about the chaos spirit. When their tell was done Timmerelle looked thought which prompted Meara to speak boldly.

 

“We came here to awaken the sword which is enchanted, we wanted to do this so we could slay the demon,” she said. “Now that we have done that we need to find it but I don't know how. Have you any advice?”

 

Timmerell looks at them. Several of the elves speak quietly in their own language as if discussing something. After a minute of this conversation, Timmerelle who has not spoken raises his hand and the elves fall silent.

 

“This thing you hunt, it is very dangerous, in truth were we to come across it we would have dealt with it ourselves, but it is good for you that we had not. Beings such as this have names just as we, twisted secret names. If you knew this name it would be easy to banish back wence it came. Not knowing the name means you must locate it and trap it so that it can be killed.

 

The reason I say that it is good for you that we did not find it before we met you was that not know its name when you called it forth you have bound yourselves to it. If it is destroyed by any other than you then its curse would be upon you.

 

A thing like this would lair in a place of darkness and tragedy and there is such a place not far from here. I think this place would call out to it. This is the likely place to find its lair.”

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Ardan couldn't help but think he should have fought with his sword against the bear.   Then this might have already been over.   Then again, without awakening the sword, it probably would have only slain the bear, and not the spirit.

Ardan nodded.  "it's good then that you didn't find it.   Though after our meal, if you could show us the way to this place you mentioned, we'll do what we can to handle this situation so no one else is endangered."   

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Spoiler

Details:[1d20 (11)] Failed Lore Roll.

 

After telling her story with perhaps a *bit* of embellishment to impress their hosts, Artoria glanced over at her friends when the elf made his announcement. She'd been comparing this magic stuff with forging, but the worst an act of forging had ever done to her memory was catch the roof alight, not get people killed months and months later. Scary stuff. Further wracking her brain for some tavern tale that might suit Meara's demon, some 'and they were never heard from again!' warning about wandering into the woods, got her nothing. "Seconded," she piped up after Ardan's announcement, "Especially these two before the demon picks a fight with a ghost and gets itself killed too early."  

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Timmerell nodded at the acceptance of the humans, “It is a slight journey and would be best to arrive during the day. Let us rest here this eve and tomorrow I shall lead you to the place.”

 

There was a bit more talk and one of the elves sang a melancholy song that the humans understood no word of but still felt the loss and sadness in the way it was sung and look of the rest of the elves.

 

After the song as the two parties prepared for sleep Fendarlel approached Artoria, “It is not often that I meet one who shares a calling. I sense that the Maker has touched both of us. I would give you a gift, and my friendship.” She takes a cloth from her pouch and unwraps it, inside is a small carving or casting, of some white metal. “This is a rune imbuing; it was gifted to me by a master smith of KarnekHal. I have used it many times and it has taught me much. Take it with the blessing of the Maker, use it and learn from it.” She passes it to Artoria and it seems to sing to her when she touches it yet makes no sound. “Now you must rest, tomorrow will be a taxing day for you”

 

And Fendarlel leaves to rejoin the elves and all bed down, soon the humans are asleep.

 

Spoiler

The Maker, is one of the Three, the main gods worshipped in this world. there are others but the Three are the chiefs of all the gods.

 

When Artoria, Ardan, and Meara awaken in the morning all the elves except Timmerell are gone. He explains that they cannot forestall their own mission with a detour so the rest have gone ahead and that he will lead them to the place.  After eating and readying them Timmerell says “It is a good distance from here if you knew the way it would take you several days but today we shall use Alfean paths and be at our destination by after midday. Stay within sight of me and do not stray from the path we follow.”

 

With that he started walking away from the old oak that had held the sword. They walked quietly Timmerell set a brisk pace, the path the followed wound through the wood seeming at random and often it felt as if they were going back the way they had already come. After a couple of hours the stop to rest and drink from a stream. Ardan looked around and did not recognize where they were to the west  the bulk of the mountains rose and he swore that they were much closer than could possibly be.

 

“How far have we gone Temmerell,” asked Ardan?

 

The ranger looked up from where he had be gazing in the water of the stream. “About eight leagues from the Taign, as your people measure distance,” he answered.

This time it was Meara who asked a question. “You used that word before, Taign. What does it mean?”

 

“Ah, my apologies, I forget sometimes, Taign is the word the humans who first came here used, as they could not speak Alfaen. In this, your tongue, it means Elder Tree. Once all of this land was covered by a vast forest, The AlfaeneraTi’gain’Ser’sial’sifeneaTaig.” The word was a song and while parts were recognizable the whole was not. “The men here in those days shortened it to the parts they could speak and called it Alfaen’Taig, what today you would call the Elven Wood or forest.”

 

 He looked off into the distance, “But that was long long ago before, even your Scarlet Cloaked Prince came here from the south. In those days only the Alfaen, Elves, and Karack, the Stone Folk, what you call dwarves lived here. Before the orcs came.”

 

Abruptly he stands, “Indeed it is to an Alfaen holdfast we journey, and we must be back upon the path or it will be late when we arrive.”

 

In moments they were back upon the path and in a few more hours stopped had past from the forest and the foothills and entered the mountains proper. They stopped this time on a ridge over looking a valley pass which led into the depper parts of the mountains. Ardan looking back estimated that they had covered at least another twenty leagues or so all in one day on foot.

 

Before them only a mile away stood the walls and towers of a small elven stronghold, overgrown, with grass, vine and tree.

 

“This is the place, and this is as far as I can go. A great evil came to this place and my people, those who survived, fled never to return. If your demon is anywhere it will be hiding here, feeding on the evil of this place, growing strong. Find it, kill it, and leave, for the evil which my people fled lingers here still, sleeping a deathless sleep.  As long as you do not disturb anything but your quarry you will be safe, that which sleeps will take no notice of you.”

 

 

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Ardan nodded.  "Thank you for bringing us this far.  Hopefully we'll meet again, I have some further questions to ask."  He knew the trek home was going to be long, and hopefully they'd be able to make it after this. He would let the others say goodbye,  and then take the lead as they made their way through this cursed path.  His hand dropped to his sword's hilt, and he did miss having his bow.   Hunting food wasn't going to be as easy without it.

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"Safe travels," Artoria called, tearing her gaze away from the ruins for a second, "And tell Fenderal thank you for her gift again."

 

She looked back to the ruins, almost hypnotized. Gods, she was used to thinking of the land as old, but this keep *looked old*, old and broken and apparently still haunted by whatever had torn it down. The blonde bladesmith resisted the nervous impulse to rub her thumbs in circles on the haft of her axe. The fact there was this whole lost history beyond what they knew, someone needed to look into it, tell the stories so that they breathed again. She'd have to look into it.

 

"Well, we need to make sure your demon doesn't accidently kill itself down there, so let's go. I do *not* want to be in there after dark."

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With that Ardan took the lead and led the way down into the valley and toward the elven ruins.

 

It took them about an hour to gain the valley floor and another to come the what had once been he towers which in times past would have stood on either side of a gate. The towers were there some forty feet high and over grown with creeping vines, the gate was not in evidence. Meara paused before walking between the two slender towers some forty feet apart on either side. "Wait a moment," she said raising her staff and closing her eyes.

 

Artoria, watched Meara for a minute as the girl just stood there and did nothing. Bored she studied the towers and soon realized something odd, she turned her gaze into the holding to confirm her thought. The place was overgrown yes, but it was not in ruins. The towers stood strong and tall, there were no cracks or crumbling facades. even the tall slender windows the elves used were intact. If not for the overgrowth it looked as if this place could have been built yesterday.

 

"There is magic here," Meara's voice came as she opened her eyes. "It is all around."

 

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Ardan looked at Meara and their surroundings, and he nodded.  He couldn't feel it, nor did he really have Artoria's knowledge of how the buildings were actually built.  He noticed that it wasn't really in ruins, but nothing more.  "Well, They did say it was an old fortress, so it should be built strong.  I bet magic was a part of that.  Is it safe for us to simply be here is my question."   He wasn't referring to the potential for creatures and such as they stalked,  just more whether or not being exposed to the magic she sensed being around them.

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"The elves wouldn't lead us into a place that'd curse us just walking through the main gate," Artoria added with a frown on behalf of their guides, "Don't seem like the type. Why talk to us, feed us, and watch over us as we slept in that case? Doesn't make sense. Long as we obey the rules, we'll have a fighting chance here. Or weren't you listening to the elder's fables growing up?"

 

The big blonde smith laughed softly, grinning to project confidence in the face of the imposing ruins, "This is your area, Meara. Do you have a trick to find your spirit or do we need to lure it to us?"

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Meara worried her lower lip with her teeth, surly Artoria was right the Elves wouldn't have sent them into any kind of trap, or would they? Something flitted at the edge of her memory something she had read in her book. Meara gave a shake don't be foolish Meara.

 

"It will be inside somewhere I think deeper in, I'll be able to feel it if I'm close to it."

 

She hoisted her staff and walk on through the space wonderous gates must have once stood. The other two followed. 

 

They went slow and looked at everything and noticed that all the buildings had doorways yet no doors and those with windows has glass or whatever the elves used still intact and as clear or colored (a lot of the windows were colored, some with a single color, such as scintillating gold or brilliant blue, and some with multiple colors) as the day they had been placed. Several time Meara stopped and closed her eyes and raised her staff and slowly turned in place. About ever third or fourth time she did this she changed direction.

 

Eventually they came to a large courtyard surrounded by several buildings with narrow paths between them. In the center of the courtyard was a magnificent fountain the centerpieces of which was a glorious tree seemingly carved from white marble.

 

Meara stopped and stared at the fountain for several moments then she closed her eyes and raised her staff and turned in place. When she stopped she raised her hand and pointed to one of the paths. "There. I can sense its darkness." She started off across the courtyard toward the indicated path...

 

Spoiler

Both Ardan and Artoria need to make a saving throw vs spell  add your wisdom bonus to your roll. let me know your result is in discord.

 

 

 

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"Shouldn't we refresh ourselves first?  It could be some time before we do, and we've trekked a fair bit already today."  The Fountain was amazing, and he had a feeling that the waters of an elvish fountain would be far sweeter than any other.  "Obviously the tree's enjoying it."   To his eyes the tree's leaves seemed to sparkle, and the sound of its waters was almost magical in and of itself.  He found himself thirsty, where he wasn't before, and moved towards the fountain.

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Artoria glanced at the pristine if dry fountain at Ardan's detour, confusion filling her eyes before horrified realization flooded into her expression. Oh no. More magic or something, the important thing was stopping her friend first and figuring out what was wrong next. Something about the vine-free fountain in a city covered in them sent alarm bells ringing through her head. This was Bad.

 

"No, Ardan! The Elves said to touch nothing," she called, reaching out to grab Ardan's shoulder to check his forward progress, "Fable rules remember?"  

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Ardan turned to look at Artoria, almost a glare.  He wanted to point out he was the one who best knew about the wilds, that he knew what he was doing, but the concern in Artoria's voice, even as she gripped him tightly, stayed his tongue. The realization and recollection of the words of their guides here did finally rattle around and into place, and he nodded, and relaxed, placing a hand atop Artoria's.     "You're right, best not to trust anything here but each other, no matter how good it seems."

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