Heroes need bad ass friends, right?(OPEN)

[Hiro]

It's been a long, rough 8 months since Bern. Hiro drifted from town to town making his way to Etruria slowly, one he made it there he kept traveling north along the border collecting as many different wanted posters with high bounty from Kraft. Once he made it to Illia his plan was to spread rumors of a very high paying job, rewards could very from thousands of gold coins to large amounts of land as he moved north. His final stop was north of Arphen, he gave the location of a city and a general time frame of when he was going to go into detail of the job.


It was time, there was a decent sized crowd gathered here. Hiro approached the box he had set in the middle of the town square to speak, upon standing on it he pulled back his hood and mask. He hadn't shaved since he left Bern, his face was itchy but was nice and warm in the cold Illia, he brought his fingers to his lips and let out a whistle to get everybody's attention. The crowd turned into a quite murmur as all eyes turned to Hiro, this was his time to shine. "Friends, Illians, countrymen, lend me your ears. I come to bury Kraft, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones, so let it be with Kraft. The man has done a lot to harm Elibe and those who live here, while I haven't seen much influence here in Illia that may soon change. I am sure most of you had heard about what happened in Bern eight months ago. I was there, everywhere there was his agents. It wouldn't be too far fetched to guess after Bern he'll change his sights to Illia, once he is able to put your country into a flank he can dwindle down your army and take your land. How do we prevent this from happening? It's simple, we kill the Kraft. Most of your soldiers are busy doing other things, but you fine people are hired swords. While I can't pay you upfront I can offer the riches that Kraft has after we kill him. Once he's gone we can stripe the land that the filthy followers he has and give it to those who wish to relocate outside of Illia."

Hiro had paused, he was letting what he had said sink in. The crowd had to began to get loud once again, bringing his fingers to his mouth he let out another whistle. "Now, I don't suggest we go blindly charging in, that's foolish and we'd all be dead before the end of the day. I already have a plan set out but this is not that place to go into detail. I will give you the next couple of days to decide if you are to join me or not. I plan to set out at dawn on the 3rd day from today, now go tell your friends and comrades and prepare yourselves for the most intense battle of your life and the fame to come."

[Jya]

Jya had ran as quickly and silently as she could out of Bern. It had become clear, even to her, that she would no longer be welcome in that country. She felt horrible abandoning her friends but it was for the best. Her suspicions were true as she could tell she was being chased by others. There were even a few assassins that came for her head but it seemed to have died down now that she had left the country.

Ilia was not a place she regularly visited. Hopefully her infamy had not quite crossed too far into the land of ice and snow. It was too much to hope that the Clair woman would even consider forgiving her anytime soon or ever. The issue would be, if the woman would gave chase. She was a formidable opponent, not someone that Jya could take on face to face. Yet, she did well, her money had kept her afloat for the most part and other than a few 'cleaning' she had avoided most confrontations.

She wasn't sure how long she should lay low but trouble always seemed to find the perfect assassin. As she was in thought, she managed to merge and follow a large crowd of people. She had wrapped herself in a whiter cloak, her dark green clothing nestled behind another disguise. It was best to merge in the best she could. It was when the man began talking that she was startled out of her thoughts. The speech excited the crowds but she was unsure of what to do. Kraft... She knew him perhaps less than the average person. However it was clear that he seemed to be a menace of some sort from the man's speech.

As she shuffled to get a better look of the man, she felt that he seemed...familiar. It was something with his face and eyes. Yet she was unable to put her hand on it. As the crowd began to disengage, she stared at the man for a bit longer. Her mind was struggling for a name but seemed to come up with nothing. Before she was left behind by the crowd though, she followed the others. It was best not to stand out but she couldn't help be troubled. She didn't associate him with an enemy then he might be a friend? That was her thought but she wasn't bound to chance her safety. So she departed, only to hide and look at the man from afar.

[Butorega]

"Rousing speech", spoke Butorega as he leaned on a nearby building. Over his usual crimson jacket he wore a white cloak. Next to him was a woman dressed in leather armor who also wore the same cloak, and next to her was a man who quite ugly. The man wore nothing but a pair of pants, some leather boots, and the same white cloak.

"So the Illians are keeping themselves busy", spoke the Ugly man.

"It seems so Bones", spoke the woman as she rose from the wall. "However I think this would prove quite advantages."

"Advantages", spoke Bones." There still seems to be a few screws lose in your head Faith. How hard did that guard hit you in the head?"

"No", spoke Butorega cutting into the conversation. "I am going to have to agree with Faith."

"What", spoke Bones with surprise? "Have you gone soft in the head too captain."

"Know your enemy", spoke Faith.

"Exactly", spoke Butorega.

"What are you two blabbering about", spoke Bones.

"The art of war tells us if you know yourself, but you don't know your enemy then you will win as many battles as you loss."

"But if you do not know yourself, and you do not know your enemy then you shall loss many battles", spoke Butorega picking up were Faith left off.

"Oh that philosophical crap", spoke Bones.

"It is not philosophical," interjected Faith. "It is the art of war and battle. It is the basics of strategy. It is the only reason you are still alive."

"Bull", spoke Bones. "The reason I am still alive is because I am strong. The weak die and the strong survive that is the only law you need to know."

"Sure was not saying that when we saved you from that ambush", added Butorega.

"Oh come, there were like twelve of them, and one of me", shouted Bones in his defense.

"And that is strategy", spoke Faith taking advantage of the moment.

"None the less", spoke Butorega stopping the incoming argument before it happened. "This is a perfect opportunity to see how the Illians fight. It will be a perfect chance to catalog their stratagems, and movements."

"Yes it should prove quite useful in the war back at home" add Faith.

"Really", spoke Bones. "I just think you want an excuse to fight for Illia."

"Come now Bones", spoke Butorega. "When have I ever desired to fight for Illia? If I wanted to do that I would have joined the Illian forces."

"Agreed", spoke Faith. "I say we do not waste this opportunity. Besides we may even become famous because of it. Faith the slayer of Krath, I like the sound of that. I vote we go."

"It is Kraft Faith", spoke Butorega. I too vote we go."

"Well there aint no point in me voting", spoke Bones. "You two have already out numbered me."

"Well I am glad you can count Bones", spoke Faith.

"Watch it woman", spoke Bones. "Keep in mind that I wield a spear into battle."

"And you keep in mind I have an axe", spoke Butorega. "I will not permit team killing under and circumstances. Now if you excuse me I am going to go join up with the attack." Butorega walked away leaving the two in their argument.

"Hay you, sneaky fella where do I sign up", spoke Butorega.

[Irmo]

I hope he got eaten by a bear, Irmo thought as he walked through the cold streets. He wasn't exactly sure where he was. He didn't even really care. After finally losing Vander he had spent the last few weeks traveling about, healing this and that and never staying anywhere for too long. He might of even made a name for himself, but he really didn't care. Why would he? Being known to people would just mean he'd be bothered even more.

"It's too bloody cold here," Irmo mumbled under his breath. He looked up just in time to keep himself from running into a huge merc. He stumbled a bit before catching himself. Why in the blazes- Elimine help me! He caught sight of what was on the other side of the man. A giant group of mercenaries. He just stood there in fear for a moment. It was like a bad dream, one only topped by the idea of running into Vander. Escapebeforetheyseeyou. He immediately turned around. He couldn't let them see him. If they did he'd never here the end of this or that or 'look at my arm, it's bleeding!' But then he heard something that made him stop.

Kraft? Irmo spun on his heel again and began pushing through the crowd so that he could see. Why in the blazes is Illia talking about Kraft? What'd the bloody man do this time? He came close to the front, keeping his staves under his cloak. Most days the only thing that marked him a healer were his staves, and from what was spewing from the man's mouth it looked like it'd be a good idea to hide them. He frowned as he listened, not liking most of what he heard. Though he did grin when he heard the follower's called filthy.

Could this be what I've been looking for? Irmo questioned himself as the crowd began to disperse. He had many questions for the man, especially regarding the safety of the imbeciles blindly following Kraft. He didn't care about the higher ups, it was the average person he was worried about. He had heard things about Bern recently and he didn't want something like that happening back home. He just wanted things to be as they should be.

"Excuse me," Irmo said, pushing past the annoying tall guy. He only had eyes and ears for the bearded guy. "I'd like to talk to you." He moved his cloak aside a little to show his staves. "I've... some questions and concerns." He didn't bother smiling or anything, he had his usual bored look on his face.

[Butorega]

"What the", spoke Butorega as the short pink haired man pushed by him. In truth Butorega had no idea how to react to this. No one, and he meant no one had dared to simply push him out of the way since he was a little flegling. The very action kind of ticked Butorega off. Butorega however keep his cool. It was not smart to cause a fight in the middle of a town.

"Hay wait your turn", spoke the Brigand as he pushed his way in front of the pink haired man. He had no intention of being cut in line, especially not in front of Bones and Faith. The two of them would never let him live it down.

"Oh", looks like the captain might get into a fight", spoke Bones as he stared from the side.

"I doubt it", spoke Faith. "He is not stupid like you. I doubt he is stupid enough to get into a fight in an Ilian city." She made sure to stretch the Ilian part. "None the less I am going to go join him. He may be our leader, but he does not speak for all of us. If you want you can always go back to Bern Bones", spoke Faith as she walked away.

"And leave you two alone", now what kind of third wheel would I be if I did that."

"For the last time", spoke Faith as she continued to walk were Butorega was. "We are not in that kind of relationship. Me and Butorega are just friends."

"Right", spoke Bones as he passed her. "The blush on your face gives has an opposite position on the matter."

"Oaf", spoke Faith as the duo arrived at Butorega position. "Hay you can sign us up to".

[Hiro]

Hiro had hopped off the little box he was standing on, he had his mind set on going back to his room and getting rest. He couldn't risk adding in some polishing touches to his plan to take down Kraft, he kept it in a small notebook along with the book he's been writing since Bern and the two never left his side. It wasn't long before somebody had already began to talk to him, they were wanting to sign up and before he could respond another shoved his way in wishing to speak to him. It wasn't long before the first man began to bicker among his peers, looking at him he didn't seem too amused. Letting out a long, drown out sigh Hiro spoke to him. "Can you make it quick? I've had a long and tiring journey to get this far, I would love to get some rest. If it will take a bit then I'll give you an I.O.U. and you can cash in on the morrow. But if you don't mind, give me a second."

Turning towards the large man he chuckled. "There is no 'signing up' just yet. Spend the next few days with your family or friends. Say your possible final goodbyes now, live it up, actually think about it. If you are still serious by time I leave just join me and the others as we leave town." Turning back to the smaller man "Now, are you going to be long?"

[Butorega]

“Good enough for me", spoke Butorega as he turned around and began to walk away. “Hay dumb and dumber we are heading back to the inn."

"Hay who you are calling dumb", shouted Faith as she followed suit.

"Who are you calling dumber", retorted Bones as he and Faith began to engage into another childish argument.

"Couples", spoke Butorega.

“Couples”, they shouted in unison.

“Captain how dare you pair me up with that ugly troll”, shouted Faith as she pointed back toward Bones. “You know my standards are far higher than that.”

“Come on Captian”, spoke Bones. “You know I don’t like sticks. You know I prefer woman with volume.”

“Stick”, shouted Faith. She was very offended by Bones words. She was very sensitive about her body and loath being called a stick.

“Yes Stick”, spoke Bones emphasizing the word stick. “You are as flat as a board both in the front and in the back.”

“Ok that is the last straw”, shouted Faith as she moved to draw her sword.

“Stop”, shouted Butorega as he turned around and faced the duo. “I am tired of you two arguing and threatening each other. You two are making my ears bleed. So give me your weapons.”

“What”, they both asked once again in unison?

“You heard me”, spoke Butorega. “Give me your weapons. I am going to make sure you two idiots don’t kill each other while I take a nap and by the way that is an order.” Reluctantly the two handed over their weapons and Butorega walked off toward a nearby inn for some much needed quite time.

[Valcrist]

Friends? Countrymen? Valcrist was neither of these things, nor was he interested in the 'fame' this man preached of. However, what did catch his attention was the reward. With that much gold, he could retire and open his own smithery. He could finally stop traveling around and peddling his wares and winding up in the troubles he was almost destined to run into. The fact that if he helped take down Kraft would also be a bit of a bonus, he traveled the entire land and he's seen the grip of his hand upon it. Even though it was significantly relaxed from how it had been years ago when he started his journey, it always stuck in the back of his mind. The mission of Gabriel and Rayl to unite Lycia to stand against him, if he did this... He would be doing them proud, even if none of them no longer care. It always stuck with him, in some way, some small capacity. He always felt like he abandoned that dream, this could be an opportunity to clear his conscious of that. Wyatt, Gabriel, Chelsea, Kelvin, Yaen, Wein, Rayl, all of them. It felt so very long ago, but his mind drifted to it from time to time. He was so... weak back them. Unable to even hold a blade properly, now look at him.

He was in the crowd as the man spoke, but his words did little to him. They were obviously trying to coerce a feeling of camaraderie amongst the people, and Valcrist stood there amongst a sea of strangers. He wouldn't be lying if he said he wasn't suspicious, after all when it came to Kraft it was all about the trickery. This could be a trap, designed to lure people who would dare stand against Kraft into misfortune. Knowing Valcrist's luck, it was almost certainly one. He just had to trust in his own skills to get out of trouble, for a young man he's escaped the fires of hell far more often than any one should. He was a slippery devil, and that was something he could count on when the going got tough.

He didn't look like any mercenary you would have seen, he stood there wearing a large pack upon his back with blades clinging at his waist. Standing in the back, to avoid those yells of 'hey down in front' as his turtle shell tended to block the view of others. The man spoke of Bern, and it made Valcrist smirk. He had been there first hand his self, but he kept such a thing to his self. No one needed to know anything unnecessary, and Ilia was by far not a place he wanted to be outed in. As far as he knew, he was a wanted man here, but he couldn't just change his route. That was bad for business, and suspicious to the ones he was traveling with in this caravan. He didn't come to this town to listen to this man shout, just call it... good timing. Was what happened in Bern really eight months ago, man... it felt just like yesterday he was fleeing the city with Jya. He was another year old now, it was hard to believe.

A few people went up to the man with questions or comments or something of the like, Valcrist instead took the time to hang back. He was not a particularly greedy man, but thinking of what he could do with that reward was definitely a thought to hold on to.

"Heygus, Varen?" He turned his head to one of the twins he traveled with, it infuriated them just how easily he could pick the two apart. Even when drunk. They liked to play tricks on people about it, but it never worked on him. They were too focused on how they were similar, but Valcrist could only see how they differed.

"I should have guessed." Gus said with a shrug and a shake of the head, laughing.
"As soon as he started, huh?" A man that looked almost like a mirror reflection of the other did the exact same thing.

"Sorry." Valcrist replied with a small chuckle.

"Don't worry man, who are we to stop you?" Varen started.
"I mean you're the mighty 'you know who' right?" And Heygus finished, teasing him.

[Wein Lowell]

Wein had been rooting through the various wares of a merchant while the small hooded man had given his grandiose speech from the top of his tiny box. He had realized there had been someone talking, but the Ostian hadn't been paying much attention, for he had come across a sack of decorative arrowheads, and he, for the life of him, couldn't quite decide which arrowhead was the best buy. Which would be the most effective against an enemy combatant?

"For the last time," came the clearly annoyed growl from the clearly annoyed merchant, "I'm an artist. These are decorative arrowheads. See the engravings? You put them on a necklace or something. They're not meant to be used against people." He crossed his arms in front of him, tapping his fingers on his upper arm as he looked down at the inquisitive customer.
"But that doesn't mean they can't be used against people, right?" Wein replied, holding up a clear blue arrowhead, seemingly made out of jade. He poked his finger with the end. It wasn't particularly sharp, but that could be fixed. "After all, stone arrowheads used to be the norm hundreds of years ago."
"You'd clearly know better than I would," came the man's reply. "I just make the arrowheads. I can't actually use a bow." The man's statement evoked some surprise from the Ostian.
"You can't use a bow? Then what would you know about making proper arrowheads?" he asked sardonically. The merchant placed his head in his hands.
"I don't make proper arrowheads!" he gasped exasperatedly. "I make them for decoration. People buy them because they look nice. It's jewelry! I have no idea what they'd do on the end of an arrow!"
"Well we'll just have to find out, won't we?"

Wein grabbed one of the arrowheads, and obsidian rock with a bit of a sharpened point, and pulled an arrow out of his quiver. With a bit of struggle, the archer pulled the steel head off of the shaft, and much to the merchant's protest, began tying the obsidian head to now headless arrow. With a swift yet casual movement, he drew his bow and knocked the jerry-rigged arrow. The Ostian's mind was brimming with thought as he calculated and fine-tuned to compensate for the awkward shape of the new arrowhead, and with a smile on his face, he drew back the drawstring and aimed the arrow at a butcher's shop on the other side of the square.

"What the hell are you doing!?"

The archer could feel the twang of his bow as the bolt was loosed from his fingertips. The arrow sailed swiftly through the air, whistling like a bird with a worm in its mouth, before it lodged itself solidly in a carved pink shank hanging from a hook in the roof. The unsuspecting butcher just stood dumbfaced as Wein, whistling satisfactorily, turned back to the merchant, whose face was as now red as the meat the Ostian had just skewered.

"That one tilted a bit too far to the left, but a solid effort. I'll take ten," said Wein, taking a few coins out of his wallet and placing them on the artist's cart. The anger, although peaked just a second ago, seemed to drain out of the man's face as he saw the shine of gold appear before him.
"Oh, um, yes!" he said, scooping up the coins. He then handed Wein the whole bag. "You know what? Just take them all. To be honest, nobody ever buys them anyways." The merchant then turned away to deposit the proceeds of his most recent, and admittedly only, sale of the day. Wein, now with one more bag of trinkets in tow, then turned to see a familiar face. He was a bit more weathered looking, it seemed, but no, that was definitely him.

"Hey, Valcrist! Is that you?"

[Valcrist]

He heard someone saying his name which really confused him. He was, after all, just some low profile blacksmith and he barely knew anyone who he thought would be in a place like this. Then again, he has met quite a few people on his travels, maybe he was more popular than first thoughts would assume? He looked around for a moment trying to find who said it, Varen tapped the smith on the shoulder and when Valcrist turned to look the merchant pointed directly at a man with windswept hair and a stringy goatee. The face was familiar, for sure. Valcrist never forgot a face, it took him a second however to place the name. It's... been a long time since he saw this face. In fact if he hadn't thought of him mere minutes before, he'd probably had been stumped long enough to be seen as crazily rude. It was Wein, a man Valcrist traveled with for a short time years ago. He barely knew the man, and as far as he was aware he was just a friend of Yaen's.

Speaking of which, he saw no Yaen nearby. Valcrist last saw his former teacher back in Bern, but he hadn't seen Wein at the time. Obviously the two split up a long time ago, considering the was well on three years ago. Still, it came as a slight shock. His mind had always packaged the two together, like two parts of the same thing. It was surreal, but not unwelcome. To be honest, Yaen wasn't someone he was looking forward to running into again. Valcrist held a warm grin as he waved to the archer. "Oh hey there. Wein, right? It's been years. What brings you here of all places?" The last time he saw this man... Valcrist hand long hair tied into a ponytail, was still tripping his own feet, didn't even know how to dodge properly, and was still pining over Chelsea. All of those things were so different than how he was now. Suddenly he remembered something else, that was right... He was an inexperienced smith back then.

"It's so odd seeing you again. I can barely believe it, so much has changed since I last saw you." He added with a small chuckle. Running a hand through his own hair nervously. "In fact, if I remember right, the last time we met you wanted me to forge you a bow. I said no though, because I wasn't good enough. Then I promised that one day, when I was better, I would." He held up a finger with a smile. "As luck would have it, I am indeed better. Quite better, if I may brag as such. In fact, if you have the gold I'd be more than glad to keep that promise for you right now. At a great discount too, hell I'll do it at cost." He had three days to kill anyways before the mission began, this would be a great thing to fill such a time with. Of course forging a bow and forging a sword are quite different tasks, but he was more than proficient enough. He had been traveling Elibe and peddling his weapons and wares for the last eight months, according to that man on the box earlier. It really didn't feel like that. Before that, he was a blacksmith selling wares in Bern for the festival. Before that he was traveling through Bern selling his wares and before THAT he was a blacksmith for the Ilian army. The fact of the matter is, he's had so much more experience in these last few years compared to his skills before hand. He was absolutely confident in his skills to produce a bow of the utmost quality. "Honestly, I'd cut you some slack and chip in for old time's sake, but I'm a little on the short side." He finished with a small laugh.

Man, back then he was so awkward around everyone. He'd stutter, he was afraid to speak his mind, and he would always find a subtle way to put his self down no matter who he spoke to. He wasn't sure when or what happened, but it was hard to imagine his self such a way.

[Wein Lowell]

A broad smile found its way onto Wein's face as smith not only recalled his name, something the archer had been planning on having to remind him of, but also the request he had made of him all those years ago. Even though they hadn't really been much more than casual acquaintances through a mutual friend, it was always nice to know someone cared enough to remember him. After all, outside of Yaen, it wasn't like Wein had too many people in the world that did, and even at times the Ostian wasn't sure if that wasn't just a friendship of convenience for the Sacaen.

"I'm definitely going to hold you to that promise," replied the archer. His mind, delving into the sizable archives of information stored inside his head, immediately began drafting up an ideal bow from whatever he did know about the craft. He couldn't guarantee it would end up being exact, especially when he did want to see Valcrist's own take, but it didn't stop him from getting ahead of himself. "Don't worry about cost, though. I always pay for the things I buy, and I've managed to make a fair some of money over the years doing odds and ends. That sort of thing."

"But it's funny you should ask me that," Wein began, stroking his beard awkwardly as he recounted the unlikely events that had brought him up to chilly Ilia. "How I got here, I mean. Hmm, where to start? Well, if you heard, there was this tournament in Bern hosted for fighters all over Elibe and..." The Ostian trailed off for a brief moment as his eyes drifted back over the smith. Something about Valcrist suddenly caught his attention. His hair? Well, it was blonde. Nothing odd about that. His skin? No, populations of humans exposed to prolonged sunlight tended to develop darker skin tones. Like Nabatans, which if Wein remembered correctly, Valcrist indeed was.

Then it clicked.

"...and you were there!" said Wein, his voice elevating with surprise. The hand that had been playing with his goatee shot to the side of his head. "You...you were the masked guy, the Lost Swordsman! You were fighting that woman right before she got stabbed and everything went to hell!" Wein stepped back, as if recoiling from the physical weight of his surprise, then made a couple of quick hops like a child did when they were excited about something. "I knew I recognized that man! Right when his mask got torn off! These eyes never miss that kind of stuff, you know? Even from the stands." The archer took a second to calm himself. "That fight with the wyvern was really something, I'll have you know." Wein then snapped back into storytelling mode, as if his momentous revelation of just a second ago had never even occurred.

"Anyways, where was I? Oh right!" The Ostian wagged a finger in confirmation as he got himself back on track. "At the tournament I was abducted by a group of former Ostian soldiers turned Etrurian wyvern riders planning on trading me over to the Prophet for gold because they thought I was my twin brother, who was an Ostian noble. I mean, I was an Ostian noble too, being brothers and all, so the mix-up probably wouldn't have mattered too much to them if I had clarified, but I make the point of distinction because they held a particular grudge against my brother because he was also an Ostian general whose command they were under. They were blaming him for 'letting Ostia fall' and all that nonsense." The archer paused as he cursed them for their stupidity a few times in his head. "Anyways, I escaped from them, but not before they managed to drag me all the way up to Ilia and I've been here, roaming from town to town ever since."

Wein then crossed his arms and stared at Valcrist, studying his features.
"But how about you? What brings you all the way to Ilia? I take it you wanted to get as far away from Bern as possible when it all went to hell? Can't say I blame you."

[Butorega]

"Whoa", spoke Butorega as he stopped before entering the Inn. He stared as the arrow sailed through the air and knocked a slice of the butcher’s meat off its hook. Butorega was clearly not the archer’s target, but even still the archer now had Butorega attention. "Bones, Faith", cried out Butorega as he turned around. The two brigands were arguing in the square unaware of the archer from earlier.

"What is it now", spoke Bones. He was not happy to be without his lance, and in truth Butorega could not blame him.

"Hay", shouted Faith as she stuck her nose in the uguly man's face. "Show some respect. The captain out ranks your."

"Don't call me captain", spoke Butorega as he arrived at the Duo. "I am trying to blend into the crowd, not stand out as a captain of an unknown force."

"Sorry about that cap.., I mean Butorega," spoke Faith.

"So what do you want", spoke Bones. Without another word Butorega returned the duo their weapons. Bones received his spear and Faith got back her sword.

"Ahh Nichi it feels good to have you again", moaned Faith.

"What gives", spoke Bones as he attached his spear back onto his back. "It is not like you to just change your mind out of the blue."

"So you do have a brain", spoke Faith. "Though I doubt it is any bigger than a walnut."

"Bigger than yours", spoke Bones. "At the very least I figured out something was wrong. You probably did not notice"

"What", shouted Faith, but Butorega had enough?

"I have returned you weapons because I fear you might need to use them."

"Illians", asked Bones.

"NO just a precaution. At first I did not think you needed them as the town itself seemed very defensible, but after witnessing a man shot an arrow in the middle of town with no repercussions I realized that security was nowhere near as high as I thought."

"Whatever", spoke Bones. "I am just happy I got my lance back."

"Hay, I am about to have a look around", spoke Butorega as he walked into the crowd.

"It seems the archer has his attention spoke Faith.

"It seems so", spoke Bones.

[Valcrist]

"Well we can discuss the details inside, out of the cold. I don't care how many times I come here, I can never get used to Ilia." He pulled a bit on the scarf tied tightly around his neck, sure at his home it got cold at night. As cold as it gets here sometimes, but this cold was so relentless and unforgiving. It never let up, and it made him so very uncomfortable. The sooner he could get inside the better. He was thinking of bows at the moment, it's been a long time since he's done a commission piece. Most people simply weren't that picky about their weapons, and the people who were usually the type who'd pay full price at only the most famous artisans, ie not him. It forced him to be more practical and cost efficient in his work and instead of creating weapons specifically for a single person rather crafting them for a wide variety. So this whole thing will either turn out incredible, or lackluster, depending on how rusty he was. Still it was exciting to give it a try once more.

Then Wein started talking about Bern, which made sense considering Valcrist ran into Yaen there. They must have been traveling together after all, which means it's quite likely that he knew Valcrist was there. Or maybe not, since he seemed honestly surprised and acted as though he hadn't seen him or even thought of him in a long time. It would be stupid to lie out and out though, there really was no reason to either. "The tournament? Yeah, I was selling weapons there actually." He clarified while the archer seemed to drift off. Looking confused for a moment, staring right at him. Valcrist took a wary step back and arched a brow. "What? Is there something on my face?"

Then came the sudden declaration, which was promptly followed by that 'oh crap' realization within the Lost Swordsman accompanied with a cringe that his whole body seemed have surrendered. Wein began to recount how Valcrist had been a fighter, and how he had been there, and how he was fighting Clair and that Wyvern fellow. All Valcrist could do was... sort of flail. He held a hand to his mouth, furiously making a shushing motion with his eyes wide and pleading. He didn't want that sort of information out, he was kind of a wanted man in Bern. There was no proof that he wasn't wanted in Ilia either. "Shh, shh. Please Wein, keep it down." He said in a hushed tone. Except it wasn't really hushed, it was more like whisper yelling, which just destroys the whole point, but Valcrist was in no mood to argue semantics. "Usually when people wear masks, it isn't so people can go shouting about who they really are."

Valcrist wasn't mad, after all he couldn't have known. It was just an unfortunate run of luck, and he was more irritated than anything. He didn't was the people here to hear though, especially that guy leading the expedition. It'd be hard to join if he was a wanted man, and there was no proof he wouldn't just be turned over to the authorities. It was short lived though, and soon enough Wein went back into his story like it was nothing. Valcrist breathing a sigh of relief in response, his story was undoubtedly full of peril and danger and he probably shouldn't be relieved, but he was just happy for another topic to be taking over. It was around this time he noticed Varen and Heygus were missing, but he knew better than to worry about that. They were probably just out hawking their wares to the crowd that gathered to hear the bearded man speak.

Wein was talking about how he was abducted by people wanting to sell him to the prophet, which sounded like a bad time. He's never had the personal pleasure of being kidnapped so he could be sold to another man, probably as a slave or just to be killed, though he could assume it wasn't a pleasant experience. The smith cross his arms and looked at Wein while he talked, his mind drifting to something else. Didn't Wein used to be taller than him? Now they were about the same height, in fact Valcrist might have been a bit taller. It was kind of surreal. Though it was also very much definitely not the point, and now Valcrist was feeling like a jerk for even thinking about such a thing while Wein was describing his kidnapping.

"You escaped then." Well duh Valcrist, he's standing right in front of you. "That's great news." He said with a smile. Not entirely sure where he was going with this. "I can't believe Etrurians kidnapped you in all that chaos." He spoke that next bit a little quieter, no point in pretending he wasn't there but he didn't want to announce it to the world. "I thought it was just the Bernese rebellion." Well he could believe it, but it was still a somewhat shocking bit of news. If Etrurians kidnapped him in the middle of that brawl, who's to say they weren't involved in the brawl itself? His almost friend Wyatt was badly injured or even killed in that fight, something he didn't stick around to learn, and something he feels guilt over to this day. In which case, it was just another reason why he should go on this mission. As stupid and suicidal it may be. Still of all the luck, he would say it's fate that he met him here both randomly wandering the lands at this exact moment, but for some reason this exact type of thing happens to Valcrist all the time so he knew it was more really just his odd brand of luck. He runs into people for no reason, gets dragged into trouble, and inexplicably gets out at the last second. He doesn't even curse it anymore, at least it keeps things from getting boring. Like his boatride over to here, where they were traveling a perfectly safe canal and PIRATES show up for little or no reason. He couldn't even begin to count how many times they've ran into bandits on their travels. Varen and Heygus weren't real fighters, but they could take care of themselves in a pinch. Still, not the point here.

Still a thought occured to him, one that made him almost chuckle. He remembered, back when they traveled together, he was super awkward. Valcrist, that is, it was Yaen, Wein, and some other girl. Point was he was so timid and watched his every word and always called Gabriel 'sir Waltz' and Wein 'Mr. Low... something' he couldn't remember his last name all that well. Point was, that's how he always referred to him, and Wein said something like 'don't call me that' typical 'I don't like being called Mr/Sir' spiel. Still, if he was really nobility like he said, then he was actually being proper the whole time. Perhaps Valcrist should call him 'Sir' to mess with him?

"I'm part of a traveling caravan, peddling my wares." He would have introduced Wein to the twins, but they seemed to have vanished so it was a moot point. "Not really doing that great, mostly just breaking even." He said with a shrug and a sigh. He just forged his self a new sword with some of his profits, but it left him broke once more, so it was a moot point. Who knew that selling weapons during a time of war could be so unprofitable. He suddenly had an idea, and rose his finger with a smile. "Actually they're leaving town in a few days, if you ask them I'm more then sure they'll lead you out of Ilia. Hell they'll probably even pay you, they're going to need a good bodyguard." It'd be good to know they'll be taken care of even after Valcrist leaves them. He wondered if they ran into trouble as much as they did naturally, or it was just because Valcrist was tagging along. Either way, they'll be covered.

[Butorega]

Butorega simply listen in from a nearby location. The archer had grabbed his attention and Butorega needed something to kill his time. In truth Butorega wanted a good fight, or at least something to stretch his muscles while he waited. But he was in Ilia and to him this was enemy territory. He knew better than to get into a fight or cause a ruckus. So he fell back onto his secondary hobby, lurking.

Butorega listened in on their conversation. He drowned out the part about reunions and friends. It did not interest him much and the information was of no use to him. He did not know who either of the two men were, nor did he truly care to find out. The piece of information that stood out to him was about the tournament in Bern. He himself was up in the mountains at the time and was far from the arena. He heard only little rumors about the attack that took place. All he knew at the time was that the Bern rebels had attacked and Kraft name was mention. Kraft part in this attack however did not gain him any sympathy from Butorega. Kraft was an outsider and outsiders had no place in Bern.

There was however another reason for Butorega decision to join in on the attack, and that reason was fame. Butorega was not very well known. If you asked ten bandits from Bern about his name nine could not tell you. The tenth would insinuate that you meant Rega, one of Butorega old comrades. Fame was important to the brigand as he knew he was going to need it if he wanted to rise from his station as a mere peasant.

[Irmo]

Irmo frowned as the hulking man pushed past him. He considered berating him for it but then saw the other two bickering. He rolled eyes and sighed. People... The bearded man suddenly addressed both parties, which seemed to take forever since the argument continued in the background along with what seemed an occasional death threat. Irmo muttered under his breath several times until the large man and his side kicks finally moved off. Thank Elimine!

"Ah, yes, I understand," Irmo said. He had been a little hasty, but it had been quite a while since he had heard anything about his home. "I'm Irmo of Etruria, a wandering healer. I'll be staying in the inn outside town and would love to hear more about my home. I'd also rather you come to me if you would, I'd rather not waltz around a town crying for Etrurian blood." 

That and people just love to bother me, Irmo thought to himself. He hoped what he had seen outside town was an inn, he hadn't really been paying attention at the time. If it was, it would most likely be cheaper and away from all the bickering and complaints people tended to bring. Yes, it would be best to lie low in a town with this many people or he'd never escape. Blasted  people.