Meditations, Memories, Recollections - Aden Delaveth's Character Development Journal

[Aphel]

~The eighteenth thread~

He carefully placed the last mushroom in the box. It had started to rain slightly, but Aden did not waste too much thought to it. There was nothing he could do about the rain apart from adapt to it, so why should he bother? He locked to box and put it into his backpack before pulling his hood back up. There were enough mushrooms around to seed a new generation, and even if somebody came and picked even more than he did, there would be still enough spores left to let them grow again. SehKy would have his three boxes of mushrooms before the end of the week, if there was no trouble on the way back.
The man that had called himself G'rok had been worse enough. He had been faster and despite whatever tactic Aden had used, he still had found him. This was bad.
Really bad.
Aden was lucky that G'rok didn't try to rob and or kill him, as he certainly seemed like the kind of person that would do so. Five thousand true for a murder.
Things started to get cheap, especially lives.
Aden felt the rain on his face and wondered who would be interested in such an information.
Sir Stargazer? Maybe Miss Ferrit? Protector Daniel for sure. SheKy might not be interested, but there were rumors about a folower of Ilsare with a bow bringing someone whose description sounded like it had been Steel into custody at Fort Wayfare.
Which was interesting enough, given that Steel did have some ties to the Angels Guild.
Maybe it had been Gel? He was a bow-waving Ilsarite, too.

The name Hardragh did not ring any bell.
Whoever that was. Possibly someone who would arrange the death of a few of his enemies.
His fingertips itched, but this time, he focused on the work at hand. No need to bring himself into even more trouble. And he could pass on the information, of course. It wasn't quite valuable enough to demand a favor, but it could be dangerous enough to not be used to build trust with possible recipients.
Stupid situation; and all Aden really wanted to do now was to train his craft. Do some alchemy, some tailoring maybe. He needed some protection when wearing clothes, but not as much as his leather armor. The leather armor was nice, but heavy. Restricting, even. During the last few weeks, he had only carried it when he was heading into a dangerous situation to begin with.

It's better to be swift and not get hit, better even not to get in a fight in the first place. Combat could not always be avoided, but most of the time. Why waste resources and take any risks when it wasn't necessary?
He practiced fighting with the blade a little, both with the dagger and the shortsword - or, how his former owner had called it: a wakizashi. He needed to visit the man's homeland at some point, not only to do something against the poverty and famines, but also to study its culture – but not only in his room before going to sleep and after waking. The bugs he hunted had been troubling some local farmers or simply endangered the equilibrium in the woods. And they had a lot of nests, reproducing faster than anything else as it was the case with all insects. He had taken his time and studied one specimen for a while. It took him hours to scrub the stench off his skin afterwards.

The shadows proved to be good allies, he started to consciously use them to distract opponents so he could place a single, deadly blow. But once they had seen him, he could not step back into the shadows and become invisible to them again. He was afraid that it was part of his technique, maybe it was too aggressive to return into the shadows again after the first strike, and he needed to practice that, too.


Aden sought shelter under a small tree until the rain stopped and ate something. This time of the day, the gnolls would not even bother to leave their usual hunting grounds so he was safe for a while. He should travel with more caution later on, when he entered their territory again.

He had seen different styles of fighting during his travels, and there was few that appealed to him.
One was blunt but effective, it was the style that Daniel used. Clad in heavy armor and using a shield, defended by blessings of the Great Protector, he simply clashed into enemy lines and used his sword to kill everything that came to close. Or called upon the wrath of his god to kill the enemy. He did not evade fights, and Aden saw how he felled a treant – which was not necessary at all, since they could have used a longer route.
The other he saw was the one Jetta had used. It was quick, swift and brutal efficient, using two kukri to kill the enemy. A combination that needed the fighter to get close to the enemy and lose defensive capability.
Ty was another example for close combat. He fought swift using a fencing style. It looked like dancing, but it lacked the grace and inherit tranquility that he was looking for to implement into his fighting style.
He had seen Stiletto fight a few times, and it was her fighting style that he saw the most similarity with. And not.
Could someone be able to strike with the same silence and grace as shadows did when light fell on a monk practicing his fighting?

The gnolls simply ignored him as he passed them, busy with their own affairs and power struggles. He moved slowly and in silence until he reached Center. From there, it was only a hop to Port Hempstead where he would deliver the goods SehKy had requested.  
He tried to evade whoever was following him, but the attention that someone had given him seemed to have vanished. Very well. He could return to building trust, resources and skills then for a while until he ran into the next kind of trouble.

[Aphel]

~The nineteenth thread~

The Wild Surge Inn still smelled of smoke, but the beds and rooms where clean and comfortable. He would have preferred to sleep outdoors, but the weather was getting too bad and he had a slight cold. Time to get well fast.
Variation of the standard security measures, routine was a killer. A mass-murder, even. Worse then a slightly drunk wizard fresh from the Spellgard Campus.
Aden looked around and sighed slightly before blowing the candle out. The place between the bed and the armoire looked good enough. And with closed shutters and from the door, it still should look like as if he was sleeping in the bed, he made sure of that.
Wrapping himself in his panther cloak, he put the blade down beside him and removed the clamp from his dagger's scabbard. A safer place to rest, possible more than one, where rather high on his list. But this was all he could afford at the moment.

It was a dark, rainy night. Hlint was silent, apart from the animals in the barns. And the guards.
He relaxed, stretched a little and tended to his sore muscles. All very slowly. No need to hurry. The shadows were bland, unified and tired. He should have let the candle burn for a while, so they could dance for a bit. Breathing calmly and focused, he stepped over the threshold.

J.C. Merkinson was a person that knew the rules of the game, albeit trying to hide it behind the mask of an cliche wizard.
He had killed him.
A favor he wanted to return as soon as there was a proper excuse and opportunity.
He needed to level the field, first. Where did the guy get the coins from? Research wasn't cheap, as a priest of Aragen had told him. Who was that guy anyway, apart from a name that sounded fake, and appearance that could have been an illusion and an old, dusty tome? He intended to find out. Given how much other information he still had to find and think about, he should work on his crafts and do some legwork. If there was time left, training awaited. He had to work on his stamina and practice some jumps and spins, moving with weapons and of course fighting.
And he needed to study some of these tomes about the Al'Noth and its related arts. Information was powerful and sometimes wrong, and Merkinson was the kind of person that would spread wrong information. He  should start to do that again, too.

His eyes moved behind the closed eyelids. He focused on the sounds and the shadows, banishing the darkness that surrounded him as best as he could.

I am not darkness, but shadow.
Those who hold up the light -
I am always behind you, yet I wait there to protect your backs.
Those who hide in the darkness -
I strike from shadows, only leaving death behind
Those who seek shelter in the shroud -
Do not fear, rest and find healing in contemplation.

I am not darkness, but shadow.
I am the eyes of the Great Wolf
I am the fangs and the claws
And my purpose is to protect and teach the pack
to secure the balance of the hunting grounds
to return what I took
And to ensure survival of the all-pack

I am but a lone stalker in the shadows. Do you hear the symphony of all, Great Wolf?


He left Hlint in the first gray of dawn. There was work to do.

[Aphel]

~The twentieth thread~

Clear, cold water; stained with the blood and the grime he washed from his skin. He felt the cold and the exhaustion draining from him, but only as something that affected his body. Reverie: soft sleep with Breanna dozing in his arms, a wish that was a dream by itself.
He stretched, rubbed himself dry with a rough piece of cloth and slipped back into his leather armor.

I am not darkness, but shadow.
I am the eyes of the Great Wolf
I am the fangs and the claws
And my purpose is to protect and teach the pack
to secure the balance of the hunting grounds
to return what I took
And to ensure survival of the all-pack

Words, resonating in his head with every step he took. And nothing but words, purposeless as a few improvised barricades. Another day in Center, another day with drums in the background. Maybe he should have stayed in Hempstead, at least it would have been safe there.
Aden caught himself humming a voraxian song he had heard in Briardusk and returned to help with Center's defense. How stupid of him. But still, it needed to be done.

He rushed to Center when he heard one traveler bringing the news to the Hall of the Al'Noth in Hempstead.
That had been for certain not his first mistake, but surely felt like it. He had found Sir Doesscha and SehKy defending the town. Later they defended Center from multiple attacks with Kate, and he still bore the wounds of one of those assaults.
More and more adventurers and soldiers of fortune came there, and from then on it had been fighting, looking for clues, and more fighting. SehKy told him to go to Wayfare and speak with Captain Tunning.
It took a while until he could speak with the young Captain himself – too slow, way to slow, but until he met the man he was calm again. He took the time to study the man's behavior. It was quite obvious that he had a lot of matters at hand, and that he feared something – Aden guessed a little, but it was currently not of his concern why they were so tense. Most likely fearing another prison break.
But the Captain was a professional, and Aden immediately liked that. He even send some guards and even cavalry to aid Center.
Time, fleeting memories as he tried to focus on the present and not letting his mind wander all the filaments of possibility.
He stumbled into Cailomel's shop, he needed some gear. He needed to learn how to be invisible even when fighting, so he could take his enemy by surprise more often. Or run away, whatever was better. He knew that there were some items that might help him in training to step back into the shadows after having stepped out of them to attack an enemy. Hopefully he had the true he needed. If not, he eventually needed to go adventuring again. Or work.
Breanna was there, and she -
and to see her, to feel her kiss -

but
he
couldn't -

Back to Center, feeling empty. Fighting, fighting, standing between the bodies of the fallen. Nobody seemed to care, at all.
Breanna arrived some time later, and he just could not do what he wanted to do. But the conversation had been ridiculous.

He soon realized that all his skill in stealth was surpassed or useless. But he still had his bow, and that worked perfectly in Briardusk.
At night, he curled up into a ball and realized that there was nothing, no Breanna, no serene shroud of shadow.
Nothing.

[Aphel]

~  ~

Death and Blood.
Death and Blood.
Mass-murder the only solution.

He was out of thread.

[Aphel]

Breathing cold air, his head and face covered by a mask. Sharp shadows, sharp wind. His robe fluttering between shadow and light, torn from travel and fight, little more than rags around his battleworn leather armor. But they kept him warm, kept him hidden, too. Not as good as his cloak, but good enough.
The valley was drenched in silver and the shadows of trees, and if his thoughts were not occupied with different matters, he would have simply looked at it, enjoying the serene view.
But there was no time for that.

He needed to establish a net of hideouts, best to begin with an obvious one: he could ask Andrew for a room at the Buckle, a small one, mainly to be used as a stash – and as a warm place for Breanna and him. Maybe a staging place for future endeavors. The thread was slipping through his fingers, he could not stop it, could not control it. Something was whispering deep inside, and he could not understand.
Going to the Lake of Glass with Breanna sounded like a good idea back then, but now he wasn't so sure anymore if it was the right way to go.
They both would endanger her parents.
And he did not know the Wolfswood good enough.

He needed to hone is battle skills, he needed to make himself a weapon, sharp and quick but durable. Prayers, prayers unanswered. If ever, the others and he kept safety and tried to solve problems, he did not see any  help from the Longstrider so far.
But that should be the least of his problems now. He turned around and walked away, back into the paths filled with shadow, back where he came from. But the shadows feel different, the music gone. Blood rushed in his ears, the wind, the cold.
Nothing.

[Aphel]

It could not be helped.
He had spend too much time adventuring, and trying to fight for the good cause – or at least for what he perceived as good – that he forgot about more essential parts of life.
Like finding proper work. More friends and allies. Honing his skills. His short excursions into alchemy led him not exactly far, and he did not have the proper training with all the tools he needed.

I need to ask myself where I want to go. What I really want to do, apart from becoming just another shady person with pointy ears. And even if I should settle that, I just know what to do, but not how to solve all the other problems.

Aden shrugged the thoughts off, stared into the shadows of another morning and sat up.

The Angels will not help me, they are mercantile. I need to be a better craftsman until they would consider employing me. Same goes for other guilds.
I cannot join the Toranites, not even as a far distant asset. Although that could be considered – everyone needs information, in the end. And they certainly won't pay me, nor would I let them.
The Longstrider...
I am out of mundane work opportunities. I am impressed.

He stretched and got dressed for a new day. Time to do some gathering and collecting and thinking. He needed to talk with Enzo again, if he was around and not on some mission elsewhere.

[Aphel]

He carefully examined the hickory for any cracks and signs of knots that could make the branch unsuited for carving a bow. But he found none, marked the branch with his knife and proceeded with the next.
Work. But it kept at least his hands busy.

Hopefully the Shining Hand has resources free. If not, I need to get myself a larger stick that I can whack that ancient lizard thing with.
Make your weapons sound.
Sound.
He doubted screaming arrows would be useful against undead creatures. But against orcs and such it would be nice. Maybe make some that make them run when they hear it hurling towards them? Or a howling blade.
Maybe some acid enchanted dagger, too.
He doubted he could find JC and bring him in for questioning and a trial. But he was a spellweaver, those were usually tricky to get.

Briardusk.

The sandpaper was torn and no more sand left on it. He would recycle it, together with some of the saw dust and all the other organic side products. Maybe he would add some ash, too. Wood soil was thin and fragile, smaller plants usually had it difficult to grow and without the trees, it would be washed away quickly.
Even if he hunted, he tried to leave something in the wood for the animals and insects to consume. In the end, all was one: it came into being, born by the world; it lived in the world, used it to survive better; and finally it would return to the world. Creation, death, recreation. And as long as the equilibrium necessary for the continuation of life was not utterly destroyed, there would be life.
Aden put the branch away, he would carve the bow later. He needed bow strings first.

Briardusk will remain a wound for long, but in the end it would be a scar. Nobody might remember, but it always will be there. History was  measured in scar tissue written about in books.
Should I ever become what they call a shadowdancer, what would I become for the people that lead war in the name of the Greater Good? To those that hide and weave their nets of intrigue and power struggle? To those that try to go by every day, that just want to lead a life in peace and happiness?
Would I be a spy?
And assassin?
Feared in the dark, my name whispered by enemies and allies alike?
That would mean I need to kill myself first and recreate me – to make myself vanish and stay in the shadows.
It would mean to become mysterious. Cold. Warm. Unpredictable predictable, resourceful and poor.
It would mean to search people I could work with perfectly and yet leave them in the dark about what I am up to. Like living as a thief, it would make a good mask, too. A ranger of sorts, on the fringe of light, nowhere at home.
Nothing to be afraid off.
Unless you intend to destabilize the equilibrium too much, push your destructive and restrictive views onto others, make the world oscillate. Unless you intend to silence the music flowing in all things.
Or hurt the pack, or make the world a garden of flowers for your pleasure.
This world was the hunting ground of the mortals, it had to be protected from itself and from those that sought to destroy it from the outside.
And he needed to understand the intentions of the things, their language and their way to think.
And the places beyond this world.

I need to get a new mask.
I need to become what I always was, am and will be.


Another branch was ready. He took a sip from his canteen and brushed the dust off his clothes. There was still the black thread of wool around his right wrist.

Thread. Filament. Oscillating strings, creating the vibrant sound of all things. It was existence. The shadows vibrated as he left the craft hall to roam around for more raw materials he could work with.

He could move unseen, one with the shadows. Not always, but most of the time. The weaving called True Sight was a real problem, he needed a way to counter it. Just as he needed a way to take away different advantages. He needed to become better than even the dark elves were.

Until I can strike coming out of nothing but shadow and leaving nothing but shadow behind.

And then he was gone, disappeared. The door to the craft hall ajar.

[Aphel]

“What if telling our secret, keeps us safer?”

She was asleep in his arms, relaxed and peaceful; a soft serene smile on her lips. No cold wind around them this time, but not stars above them either. The Buckle was quiet, very quiet. He could hear some of the staff working downstairs and smiled. It was all he could ask for, all that he wanted now: a nice, warm and safe place for him and Breanna. The whole rest of issues was meaningless to him now with her close to him. Something new could start right here, something better.

Thank you, Andrew.

Aden closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep, inhaled Breanna's scent and smiled. How he missed her touch, her eyes, the sound of her voice and her scent, her warmth -


The first thing you learn is how to shiver.
Shivering keeps your inner organs warm and alive if you do it right. Undercooling was dangerous, but Aden worried more about the things in the water than about the water itself. If he shivered too much, these things would feel his presence.
The shadows of this place were odd, and the water made everything he knew about hiding nearly useless. But he needed the greenstone; there was no way to substitute it. His skin was sore from the sand and dirt under his armor, and burning from the salt water. He had applied a thick layer of oil to his skin and to his armor, but the effect was gone long ago.
He waited, the tanto between his teeth, let the cold approach him a bit. Water sloshed around him.

The guard passed by, and Aden swam deeper into the cave. The bag filled with already mined greenstone minerals didn't make it easier, but at least the bag wasn't completely full yet. And so far, he had not been detected.
Fight the cold and the desire for warmth, for the free sky and the sun.
Fight the pain in the feet, the muscles, the sore skin.
But his mind was focused, closed, ready to strike. And the last guard between him and the exit did not see him, either. He would empty his bag and return -

And all this pain only for making healing potions. Pain was weakness leaving his body, endure the suffering and harden – a lesson well learned in Briardusk.  
He ground the minerals to fine dust and carefully collected it in small bags. He needed to collect aloe, garlic and comfrey, too. But the work at least put his hands to work while his mind was milling around in endless paths.
Should he tell Breanna about his room in the Buckle or keep it as an extra card in his sleeve? But it had no to few tactical value, it was not secret, not well-equipped enough. Everybody would knew he had connections to Andrew, therefore, it was already calculated that he would use the Buckle as a hideout at some point. But as long Sadia and JC didn't come knocking at the same time, he could figure something out.
JC.
The next trouble. He should write a report to the Shining Hand, but he forgot about it. He should do it right away, arrange a meeting with Beacon Stuart. Communications were just to slow for his taste, once you expanded the area from a city to a continent, it was horribly, horribly slow. He should sit down and figure out a proper encryption, maybe Breanna could help him with that. Then again, she could give the key away. He wanted to avoid that.


No.
He could not lie to her, they both needed a safe and warm place. He would tell her.

[Aphel]

Maybe she was right. Maybe he could not relax, maybe because he should not. He told Protector Merrit that it was sometimes good to face one's fears.

Maybe it was time to face his own.

He jammed a his tanto between door and frame, let his backpack slide down beside him and inspected the room carefully. He found nothing, not even at the second sweep. Very well.
He had earned himself a bath tub with warm water. And he certainly needed it, too.

Traveling with Ty, Beacon Jillian, Protector Samantha and Knight Naldin had been interesting enough all by itself.
Not only because of the Protector's viewpoints on marriage and relationships – she presented the law, but he wasn't sure if she understood what was written there. Maybe he did not, but either way he should talk with Daniel. It would be certainly enlightening.
And Jillian was engaged to Riley, and the two would marry soon. Made it probable that Sadia would make a move soon or already made one. The look in her eyes when he had given her the dress! With a slight grin on his face he reached for the towel.

And he told Jillian of Merkinson and his skeleton toy. And the rumors from Brelin, too.
Which meant that the Shining Hand might or might not be on the board now, having another thread in their hand. The risk for him and the other adventurers was considerable, they all could end up in prison. Or worse.

The other options he saw weren't better.
What was left to do was to pick up JC's trail again. Which meant traveling to Haven. If the other people would still give him help, there was no telling if they felt “sold out” to the Shining Hand. Or if they cared at all. After all, they had taken the money and left. He had just recently donated the money when he was in Fort Llast – he did not want shady money, and the Toranites could use it to hunt more undead.

He needed aloe and wondered where he should put the white stag skin. Aden had shot the animal when a satyr wizard had messed with his mind. Breanna would be sad about it for sure, but he couldn't just sell it in one of the pawn shop – that would just mean it would go to waste eventually.
It was time to work on plans, caches and potions.
He needed more copper and bronze arrows. A few silver ones, too. Or enchanted ones.

It was time for his evening training. Stretching, combat moves, and acrobatic running. He needed to remain in perfect shape, and the Buckle was large enough so he could do all of his training indoors.

[Aphel]

He sat down on his bed, the sheets clean and soft. The room's shadows and twilight settled around him slowly like old, stirred up dust that lazy sunk to the ground again.  The Buckle was rather quiet at this time of the day; silence and shadows sang a duett, but not for him. He was just listening in silence.

Time has passed. A lot of time.

He remembered the first meeting with Breanna and how she commented on his eyes. He still had that mirror she gave him in his travel equipment. He remembered missing her so much, he remembered hidden meetings and her tears, her eyes and her touch at the pool near Haven.

Promise me that you will never change.

He still did not know why it happened; why he fell in love and turned his back on the hidden life, the life of misinformation, masks and hiding. Maybe because he wanted her to have a strong, not shady shoulder to lean against. He remembered all the travels and all the boots he ruined while wandering back and forth over the continents. He remembered Briardusk and returning to Prantz, he remembered speaking with Storold Doesscha, with Master Enzo and with Daniel Benjamin Poetr. He remembered their words, unsure if he could all trust them or if their words were just that, words, and nothing else.

So what have you done until now?

Nothing. Or, at least, not much. He had a place for his love and him now, had made enemies and friends and was dancing over the social rooftops to better his position. Working endless hours in the Hall of the Al'Noth, hiding in the shadows, scouting out the paths before others.
His spirit has become settled, rooted, boring and just like every other man's. He had fought, bled and died, cast back to the stone – and what for?
He had learned how to hide in the desert, in the woods and in old ruins, in caves and on the street. He had fought more than he ever had wanted to, had seen lifes wasted and ignorance blooming, had seen the lack of someone caring about a great picture, everyone just focused on a small, tiny fraction of the symphony vibrating around them.
And where do you want to go from here?

Gel'larian said that it was sad that he showed no affinity to the Al'Noth and that one part of the elvish heritage would be forever closed to him. But at least he was not as high-brow as the other elf who called himself Night. Establishment.
And then this Samantha and her All-Seeing, she nearly ticked him off with her annoying talk about shared resources and breeding. He never thought humans could have that much of elvish stupidity in them. No matter his personal opinion, he still needed to study the various laws and codes of the various deities so he could understand their followers better. He had begun to thank the Longstrider after an successful hunt, but inside he felt that he could not follow grandfather's path. Yes, he had been in the Den, had offered the Great Wolf arrows he made and things he took from his enemies. But there were no more dreams, in fact, he had no dreams at all.
He did not want to learn about Shadowdancers anymore. It was stupid anyway, if either the Longstrider or the Shadowdancers had an interest in him, they would contact him. Period.
He needed to get out of this spot, this point of weakness where he had no strings to pull, no valuable information to share, no interesting skills to offer. A mediocre scout at best. Nothing to fear, weak, exploitable and currently not needed by anyone.
Ty Reid, Charlie and Tori had skills similar to him, and it could be useful to team up with them or use them to gather information. But he had nothing to give in return, and he do not want be in someone's debt.
It was time to deal with the JC issue, and then with Sadia. He needed some sort of indicator if someone was under the influence of mind-control, he did not want to wake up one day and find himself surrounded by mind-controlled agents of that witch.
And even if he figured out how to deal with that, there still would be the dark elves. Strong, no weak points currently known to him, and just as bad as Sadia, if not worse.

If normal stealth fails, stop sneaking and become different to the others that sneak. Set yourself a goal and see how you can archive it instead of just trying to survive, urchin.
Well then.

Let's dance.

[Aphel]

Andrew's hands are bound, but possible ally. Help him on political path without showing support, but have strings to pull yourself out or remove him from the public interest.

You know Jillian and Quantum.
Only Quantum gave you his word to protect Breanna and you. If your motives and methods remain righteous, they will be good allies.

Breanna's filament is intertwined with yours. Need to secure her against mind control and marking. If relationship becomes public, find out who truly is on your side and who is not, then secure areas. Andrew might threw you out of the Buckle.

Ty Reid can be trusted a bit, same with Charlie and Kate. Robb is loyal. The three are good companions when traveling. Figure out their motives and they might be helpful.

Do not trust the Rofireinites, they seem to care for the law and do not appear to understand why there is a law in the first place. Also, political impractical. Never forget Prantz.

You need to know who sufficiently hated dark elves.

You need to find out their weak point. Work slowly.

You need to discuss strategy and tactics against Sadia with Elohanna and then put up a second and third, hidden line of defense.

You need to study the application of poisons, alchemy and Al'Noth to be able to defend yourself against them.

You need to build a obvious mask and an not so obvious one. One of them must lie to Breanna, but she still have to know who you are.

[Aphel]

The last guard saw him, and Aden let himself slip into the water, hold his breath and rolled towards the wall, shadows swallowing him in the cave's twilight. Time so slow when in this dirty water, fingertips recognizing stone. Waiting. Movement of scaly feet nearby, treacherous waves, the flow of water. He got up slowly, behind the creature and killed it before it could make a sound. Clouds in the water, red clouds, slowly drifting apart.
He made his way to the exit of the cave, dragging his bag behind him. He stank of murky water, blood and Troglodyte. Rain outside, washing away the water and the dirt. Another expedition into the caves was impossible today.  
Nothing out of the ordinary. He washed, cleaned his gear and marched home, back to the Crafting Hall. How pathetic he was, all he ever got done was to collect raw materials right in front of other creature's noses. And even then he got spotted and had to kill them.

However he always enjoyed sneaking barefeet through the wood at night, slowly and careful. Treants moving slowly in the twilight, so serene and tranquil that it was hard for him not to sit there, enclosed by darkness, his cloak and hood and watch them until the sun went up. Crawling around between them, finding aloe, precious aloe; it was both a game and a challenge to him. Just like playing hide and seek with the guards, studying how they reacted when he changed the game, trying to keep them in the dark if they were hunters, pray or simply confused guards confronted with strange situations.

While he carefully worked with the greenstone, he remembered how he placed an empty bottle in a stair's shadows, tied a bit of thread around it and made it fall and break when a guard passed. He looked into the direction, immediately but in slow motion and obviously tired. And then making a obvious step from one shadow to another, from one side alley into the next.
At least he didn't gave the poor guard an heart attack.
But those had been the times of his youth, his younger self. That was before Breanna, before Briardusk; way before he realized that he had to put up with all the stupidity, greed and lust for power too.
Why could he not just appear and disappear in the shadows as he wanted? Why could he not just be little more that an observer of an insane and beautiful world, why did he need to get involved all the time? Why was he so curious about everything – sure, information was power, if he knew things, he got himself into trouble, but he also had some sort of power, a power different than those that was used by kings and other people that thought they had some sort of influence over the world. Fleeting, fleeting, all must fall and be created anew. The symphony was filled with the sound of that, and maybe he should just stop worrying sometimes, clean his mind with hard work and danced to honor the shadows. Yes, he should do that tonight.

Aden sighed, smiled subtly and continued to work. Healing potions, for keeping people alive.
And later, he moved silently and acrobatically from shadow to shadow, finding paths others would never walk.

[Aphel]

Jetta is a merc, either pull her on your side or leave her hanging in between. Hauntingly familiar, the major difference between you and her is her carving for money.

Caly is good-hearted, try to explain to her what the all-pack is. If you would have told her that you think killing members of the all-pack is wrong but might sometimes not be avoided, she would have thought you weak again.

Nym messed with her head quite a bit. But if his heart is not completely lost to the darkness, he might return to the light. If not, he is a thread to my pack and has to be dealt with accordingly. Nym will lie and cheat to save his skin. And so will you. In the end, you are not so much different.

Andrew showed more involvement then expected. Your room at the Buckle stays your room after all.

Harrigan is a druid, no question about it. He keeps out of fights, among other things. He also does not care about the whole power-struggle inside the All-Pack, instead, he just takes care that our hunting grounds do not fall apart and strives towards the hunting grounds – those of stone and those of wood – remain in balance.

Lance Stargazer, Daniella Stormhaven. High-ranking followers of Toran. Do not meddle with unless under extreme duress.

Nym, Duchess; filaments seeking to overpower and subjugate all of us. Claims that this is done by the necessity to showing strength or a messed-up society might hold some truth. You will not let the All-Pack getting taken over by them. Nor your pack. Not on your watch. Never. Those that honestly and with all their heart seek redemption, grant mercy. Those who seek to destroy you, fight. Killing remains last resort.

Throw your dreams of becoming a shadow agent into the trash barrel.
You need to learn Knights and Kings.
And how to hide the truth.

[Aphel]

Work under the assumption that both the conversation with Caly and the conversation with the Illusionist have been compromised.
Also work under the assumption that Nym and Duchess and her handlers and or assets either know or could find out everything about you.
Streets, silent and dirty gray with evening. He wished he had put his arm around her waist and hold her a bit in that room. Why didn't he? It hurt him, now that he didn't. The whole thing hurt him, and he wished he could just be in her arms and she in his. There was a lot to talk about, a lot of things that he wanted to say to her.

All his dreams and plans just faded away after he met Caly in that cave. After they started to talk, because she wanted to get to know him; because she knew that he was with Breanna.
Then he would fight in the open. Either give the Al'Noth a try or ask Master Enzo how one can learn to be a ranger and scout. There was a lot to be done out there, not only on Mistone.
The war left scars, those needed to be tended. The Aftermath needed to be cleaned up either way and the wilderness protected when everyone started to rebuild and used up more resources than usual.
And all of this only because he simply could not lie properly. But wasn't that exactly the kind of life he wanted to leave behind? All this shadow-play, the shady life? He wanted to be part of the shadows, but not that shadows. He wanted to be a good guard that hid in the shadows, watched, observed, was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
And he needed to learn languages.

Caly was a strange girl. She had strong opinions, and she cared about Breanna. Maybe he should have told her that he did not know exactly what happened, then he would have a second account now.
But it was still sickening to hear it. And these women cared about Nym? Either was his he very charismatic, or he was impressive at manipulation.
If he was not evil and just acted evil, then why in the name of the Longstrider doesn't he try to break away from those that try to control him and hurt him and those he love?
Instead, he was a source of hurt, and Caly was deluded by him. Whoever was that Kaelan was, he was heading for some really worse trouble. He lied to Caly and did not tell her percisely what that All-pack was, and that different wolf packs usually fight over territory and prey, fought over control. He needed to talk with her again, even if it was just to tie her and Kaelan into his pack. But he was not ready to defend and care about that many people yet, but eventually he would. Breanna and the people in the Buckle were enough currently, and Sadia enough of an enemy.

Oh yes, Caly, I am weak. You don't like that. But I am an urchin with blood on my knuckles and proud walk after my first won knife fight. Yeah, that guy with the dirt in the face and the schmuck grin. And I do not care about whether you like it or not. If you are so afraid that I might hurt Breanna, well then, come and dance with me for a while. I don't have the time to spit out pathetic words and sentences of how strong, how manly I am.
I actually have to do things and change them for the better. And for all I know, you are just not more than a toy of someone if you don't start using your instinct more. That urge to survive, embrace it and harness it together with your instinct, and the pain will become less over time.

So, he would need to think about a precious ring he could give to Breanna. A wonderful and useful one, but first he should find out exactly what she wanted in that direction. He needed to ask Elohanna if he could trust SehKy, and Breanna if he could trust SehKy and Elohanna.
And then he had to find out if Breanna's answer could be completely trusted.
It was indeed the time now to give up his old self and start learning from books and how to behave in society.

How come you think that when I say I am an urchin I mean that I am worth nothing? I am just powerless, can't play with the other folks in the same league.
Yet.
And I don't care so much about all that power and control and influence stuff. It is just means to an end, and most ends I see around are pretty ignorant and stupid.

He stretches and flexed his muscles subtly. It was about time for his daily training anyway. Spellgard. JC. Undead lizard.

I need a bigger stick.

But at least he did not feel so tired anymore. There was something on his chest he needed to talk about with Breanna, and quite a lot actually. And not all of it would be nice and pleasant and easy. That was part of a relationship, too. He should bring along ... grapes? Odd. He didn't even know basic minor things about her.

But at least he found out a little more about what made her, Jetta, Daniel and Andrew tick. And those illusionist was an interesting fellow. Eccentric. He needed to look into her/his history. Truth and illusion. Very interesting topic. Time to learn about that a bit, too.

[Aphel]

Everything fade away into a bland gray mixture, and he hold her in his arms, felt her close to him and heard her breathing.

Grown from living wood, atop all other trees. Soft warm wood was creaking under her bare feet.
The rising sun flooded the room with light and warmth, and Breanna stood at the balcony running the whole length of the house. One of the large windows was open, the white curtains moving softly in the morning wind. Her silver-gray dress glowed yellow and white; birds sung. He looked up at the entangled breaches that formed their living roof, at the small crystal lanterns dangling from them. Blue, he remembered blue dim light.

The laughter of a child from downstairs, giggling. Breanna turned around and smiled at him as he sat up and stretched.
Her lips moved, her eyes hid a glint of wisdom and something he know very well. He smiled back.
A loud hiss made the world turn cold and gray and she rushed downstairs. Crying, struggling, sound of unleashed Al'Noth.
He looked out of the window and saw his granddad; the old man staring up at him from the shadow of the woods, a big wolf by his side.

You fail me, like your father did.

His voice was filled with sadness and sorrow. Shadows moved and grew into  tentacles that leashed out for him and beat him to the ground, pressing him against the floor. It was cold.

Breanna staggered up the stairs, her clothes rags, a black slave collar around her neck, bruises and whip marks on her skin. She had no face; and he crawled towards her, fighting the tentacles off and she fell into his arms, clawed at him in panic. She was cold, so cold, just like everything else. And then finally the gray swallowed him -

She was still sleeping, and he stared up at the ceiling, tried to breath the tension in his stomach and his head away. Relax. Stay calm.
He got up silently and without waking her. It was time to make breakfast, and then to wake her. Mundane things. Get your muscles moving.

[Aphel]

“We are here.”

Holding hands, their fingers entwined the walked the last few steps towards and into the Den. Just like the valley, just like the clifftop; it felt like home.
Traveling with her was so beautiful, and they should just have stayed up there, forgetting the world. His heart had felt light up there, his spirit free and ready to fly with her wherever the wind would carry them.

The Den smelled of warm fur, campfires, fresh carved wood and stew boiling in a dented iron pot. He could hear voices, but there was nobody around he could see.
Breanna walked close by his side, smiling. The many alcoves in the Den were stuffed with offerings to the Longstrider, from dried meat to arrows or his share of the successful hunt someone had prayed for.
Aden opened to small box he brought along and placed his offerings in a small alcove next to one that was completely filled.

I took from the woods and the land, hereby I give the lands and the wood back part of what I took so the balance is maintained and both land and wood can be cared about by those that step in your tracks, Great Wolf.

A small boy with wild hair and dressed in fur clothes watched them from a distance and silently emptied an alcove. Aden understood, got up, put the box back into his pack and beamed happily at Breanna. She took his hand and led him to a small quiet place, pulled him very gently down to sit with her and cuddle. Here, in the half-light she even looked more breathtaking. He felt how peaceful and protected this place was, its shadows soft, the symphony calming and soothing.
Home.
They cuddled for a while, enjoying the silence, enjoying the safety and each other's happiness, forgetting all the trouble, all the pain for a while.

“Aden I don't want to hide. Not like I wanted to at first.”

He smiled.
All they needed now were resources to keep them safe, assets, alliances, friendships, trump cards up their sleeves. And hidden daggers at the small of their backs.
She was so sweet, so kind and good at listening. But also so afraid to lose him, and she hugged him tightly as if she could not believe that he was there, as if she was drowning and he was a log of wood keeping her afloat.
Emeralds. No, no emeralds. A ring was nice, but also very classical and somehow a bit posh. Traditional. He needed to talk with her parents first anyway, there was no way around it. Running away with her, be frowned upon by the Rofireinites, be smiled upon by those they both know.

As long as she was with him, save and happy; she, his heart, his mirror of thought and emotion. It was scary how good they knew each others emotions sometimes, but soothing and fulfilling in a way he did not know. Beautiful, strange and serene; and he wrapped his cloak and the soft shroud of shadows around them both and hold her.

Somewhere out there in the forest, wolves howled to mark their territory.

[Aphel]

His thoughts were spinning as if they took lessons from an insane cyclone; trying to overwhelm him and take what little he knew with them into the void. Breanna was stirring softly in her sleep, and he clung to her gently for dear life.
The symphony in his head was numbing, breathtaking, trying to violently break the thoughts apart rushing through his head, trying to loose the cold grip around his stomach. He had banished the animal back into a small corner of his head, but it howled so beautiful, so primal and true, rattling on its chains.

Don't be afraid to follow your instincts.
You should know the Longstrider gives them to us for a reason.

But what if I can't trust them anymore?
I understand your love now, your longing your touches your kisses and why you are what you are. Too complicated and too simple to tell you what I feel, nothing kisses and touches can't convey and I wish we could escape to the planes together, just you and me lost in the vast realm of the Strider's domain or simply have no name -
We are, what we are. I love you, and I hope that I can hold your spirit forever against all hardship and all quarrel and strife.
No sign can ever mark you as mine, no ring truly symbol the bond we share. Gifts are meaningless for us as we call freedom our own, yet we will use  them as symbols for the appreciation we have for each other, as if that would mean anything, as if that had helped all the other couples with their problems and their love and their desires and imaginations of what should be. If talk doesn't make a difference, nothing else might help us either. We need to make sense of each others wishes but how can I know what you want if I don't even can't figure out what I want, which is stupid, but still. I want to run away in fear from you, even if I said that I will never fear you, I sometimes still do. I fear myself, I want to run away, I want to stay silent as in silence all words must fail and all things end. I want to be free, but I am chained, I can't breathe or understand, I am lost and proud of us and happy and lucky and just so terrifying stupid that I have no other choice than to love you and strive every day to work towards our love, to show you what I feel and think, to be the wind that carries you far over the land, to be the cloak that holds you warm and the knowledge that you feel the same I will close and hide deep in my heart so it might never be broken and endure everything, a feeling that I can feed on when all seems lost but nothing is lost as long as we know that we love -

And I will unchain the animal; let go it go, lift me up, dream with you and finally become what I intend to be.

He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of night, falling asleep; a new movement had begun, gradually changing the symphony's sound tone by tone.

[Aphel]

Sweat pooled between his shoulders, tickling down his neck, teasing the urge to take the cloak off. It was hot, despite the gray weather, and last autumn's leaves rustled a bit under his boots.
He just pressed his teeth together and focused on breathing, on staying silent and on the creatures that lurked in the underbrush nearby. If Breanna ever would knew what he was doing, she would be infuriated; a notion that was very sweet of her, but sometimes also not very wise at all.
In case of the Satyrs, it was wise. He attuned his breath and his steps with the melody of the forest and melted into it, became part of it. It was a strange feeling, as if he could see everything from a great distance, cold shades and soft wind wrapped around him, invisible to the world. The patrol passed by very close, he could distinguish the different hairs of their beards. He was getting better; but he needed to improve a lot, still. He had gotten a bit sloppy on his training, it was time to catch up.

[Aphel]

This was so easy in a city.
I look down, feel my weight in my arm, boots pressed against the oak's trunk. My palms are sore and raw despite the climbing, despite the gloves. Another deep breath.
I let go of the slippery branch.
Flying, the ground upside down, whirling towards me as I spin.
Rustling of leaves, I land like a panther but louder. Jump up, run, press the boots against the other oak's trunk, grab the branch, pull myself up. My muscles ache, but still. I grin and climb higher.

The land is still gray from the rain and smells of wet bark, mud and rotting leaves. Cities are different yet the same. I remember waking in the night, howling wolves; before the clouds lit by lighting swallowed the stars whole and brought the darkness and the rain. I miss you, Breanna.

I jump down swiftly, grab my packpack and start running. Mist in the morning, hovering over the meadows. A few farmers at work in the distance, I stay hidden. The symphony in my ears, sweat biting my sore skin. Miles pass under my boots, the sun rises and dries skin and clothes. Sore feet, too; I wash in a cold stream and eat a few berries I find on my way. The backpack is heavy, straps cutting into my shoulders. Seeing Jil reminded me of Briardusk, and I need to train, need to become better. A fallen pine I use for target practice, my hands trembling from exhaustion. My aim is bad, unsteady. I focus. I try. I try again, until my quiver is empty, then I collect my arrows.

Stalking, eating elderberries. The orcs left deep tracks in the soft ground, they are still very close to Center. Way to close. At least they still not have wolves that could help them with detecting me, so I stay hidden and unnoticed for a while before moving on. They seem busy with their lives, no need to get into a fight.

Unwanted attention later. I find myself pulling an arrow from my shoulder, snarling at the archer and attacking him with two blades at once. His comrades rush to help him, and I strike them down too. I made a beginner's mistake.
Move on, after rubbing my wounds with a healing potion. More scars, maybe. New orcs will be born, fighting, dying, nature absorbing them.

And then?
Then nothing, listening to the symphony, watching dancing shadows of leaves on a sunny day. Balancing on a tree trunk; fallen trees nourish so many creatures, nourish the forest itself. I nearly cut myself with the longsword, it is to heavy for me, clumsy, slow. It is easier with shorter blades; I balance from one end of the trunk to the other one, jump, salto. Too much noise when landing. Try again.
And again.

Dancing, spinning like a spool of thread on a loom; wrapping the vibrating shadows around myself, becoming unseen to the world, blending into the symphony.

Traveling; I walk uncounted miles in silence wishing; dreaming of ghost wolves by my side, dreaming of Breanna. Exhaustion, finding rest between the roots of a large oak. Hiding.

[Aphel]

Never ask, never tell but always know. If Lady Jil trusted that Aynndel character enough, that was sufficient for him. And he traveled with him and Melodious once.
He was good in a fight, used a shield of Azatta and a katana. Called him lad. That he was close with Jil surprised him, but the belief might be a common connection. Wasn't her husband Marcus also a follower of A'zatta?

So Jil said that he was ready and good enough to achieve anything he set himself as a goal. He wasn't so sure of it. He was still clumsy with all the weapon and fighting things. He couldn't track or survive in the wilderness as good as he wanted to; more practice was needed. It would come over time, sure -
But practicing wilderness survival when trying to make money as a craftsman? There was few people he could sell to these days and doing contract work for the military of various kingdoms or churches wasn't exactly his thing. Maybe he could get a favour or two if he helped with the rebuilding efforts so he could get into a spot where he could ask for a better place to live in.
Breanna and him really needed a good place.

Aden sighed and closed the boxes with all the things he needed to make some more potions. There were letters to sent, too.
But first, combat drill and more practice. Some running.