Nostrum: Tales of Valor

Uncanny Arrival

Jaunty tunes and rigorous boot beating surround a large bonfire, where dozens of men and women celebrate a successful night's work with bountiful meals and upbeat drum works. Their lack of concern for what goes on beyond the light leaves a window of opportunity for one who lingers in the dark, quietly making their way towards the aroma of roasting pork. With a cloak pulled overhead, they step around the backside of a tent, allowing only the base of their chin to be exposed. Once in view, most of the festivities come to a halt. The unexpected visitor remains in place for a moment before continuing towards a table where five men sit, just a few feet away from a wagon full of wheat and dried berries. As they do so, members of the gathering pull their blades free, and once again, the figure stops in place.

"Now, now." The man at the table's furthest end gets to his feet as he speaks, motioning for the others to lower their weapons. "That's not how we greet a visitor, is it?" Doing as they feel obligated, every blade is sheathed, but no one returns to their prior activities just yet. "Young Devough, do tell; What brings you to us on such a glorious night?"

The figure moves to the nearest end of the table with both arms tucked into opposite sleeves and sits without speaking.

"Quiet as always, you are." The man chuckles, with those around him joining in shortly after. At the sound of laughter, the masses begin to pick up their antics again, with the drums to assist. "Fret not. These are some of my finest." Planting a hand on each of the nearest shoulders, the one who speaks grips and shakes them firmly. "Faithful Nostrum, they are. Nothing will leave this table, I assure you."

Hesitant still, Devough looks over each. Then, deciding she has no other option, speaks.

"Well, as you know, Convener-"

"Achlys, you mean? There is no Convener in the eyes of Ryoushi." His raised brow causes several lines to form in his forehead, showing a deep interest in Devough's answer.

"Achlys... has sent every Pureblood away, aside from those who regularly guard The Keep."

"And you come here to tell me this, why?"

"I think you know why that is."

"Tell me regardless?" Sitting back in his seat, the man tosses both feet atop the table and pushes the chair onto two legs, rocking it back and forth. "I like a good story every now and then."

"Well, as you are aware, there have been some... deceptions... within our league."

"Go on."

"Deceptions which... even Achlys cannot thwart."

"So... Achlys has sent her honorary servant to speak with us on her behalf? In an attempt to rally our assistance, I presume?"

"Indeed."

The man runs a few fingers through his long beard and continues to sway his balance against the thin wooden legs beneath him. Then, lets it fall back onto all four with a grunt and heavy sigh. Devough remains silent as she awaits his response, trying not to seem discomforted by the amount of Ryoushi that surround her.

"Let us pretend that I would be interested in helping to remove whoever it is that has fractured your system.... What would be in it for the Ryoushi?"

"The league itself."

All who sit at the table share a look of surprise and eagerness, but also, a sense of distrust in her words. They proceed to lean in and mumble amongst themselves for a brief period, attempting to keep her ears from hearing their conversation. Once they seem to come to a conclusion, they nod individually and turn back towards Devough. The one who has been engaging with her clears his throat and grinds his teeth, clearly ready to say yes, but weary of the reasoning.

"So, your concerns do not surround Pureblood Nostrum, but rather those who guide them, then?"

"Achlys' concerns; That is correct. Our ways have been tampered with for many... many years. Purebloods have been misled extensively. They believe in the word they are given, but regardless of what this word might be, it is meant to work against them, despite the beliefs that have been instilled." Devough swallows harshly before continuing to speak. "The Pureblood League must be dismantled. The Nostrum of whom make it up, spared at your mercy. With one exception."

"What might this exception be?"

Devough swallows hard as she looks over the men, feeling a growing tension in the atmosphere that continues to weigh down on her. Removing her arms from her sleeves, she reveals a pair of gloves and tosses them in the middle of the table. Barking and growling sound out as their scent is exposed, telling Devough all she needs to know.

"These gloves have been worn by a beast, haven't they?"

"One who has been resisting his transformation, yes."

Taking the gloves into one hand, the man carefully examines them. Clearly trying to avoid touching any bodily fluids that may have landed on them, dried or not. Once he is satisfied with their appearance, he stuffs the pair into a pocket at his waist and looks back at Devough, now understanding where her concerns truly lay.

"Tell me, Devough; Who are we after?"

"Belial. Belial Reaver." Gulping once more, as if to be holding back tears, Devough continues to speak in a quivering voice. "He is guilty of killing several of our men already, and attempting to divide us amongst ourselves."

"Where is he now then?"

"I'm unsure."

"You're unsure? How can that be?"

"Conv-... Achlys sent him out with the others so that he could complete one last mission before being exposed for what he truly is."

"It's no wonder your league is falling apart." He remarks, scoffing and shaking his head, but never prying his eyes from the woman out of disbelief. "What leader allows a beast to travel with the unsuspecting? Why was he not put out of his misery before it came to this? Such mishandling... and at the cost of lives. Nostrum lives."

Devough does not speak. Choosing to keep any further elaboration to herself for the sake of her own benefit, she awaits confirmation on what will happen next.

"We accept the offer. First thing tomorrow night, we will set out, starting nearest the base of the mountain, and track down this... Belial Reaver."

"W-would his tracks not grow cold by then?" She blurts out, unable to hold back such worries.

"Not for our hounds. They can track a scent as old as a week." He gives a proud grin and puffs out his chest as he stands from the table. "I'll be hanging this over their kennels for the time being. Allow 'em to get riled up by the scent before this night's end." As he walks off, he shouts back one last comment. "Feel free to pick a spot and rest up here, if you'd like."

Looking at the others who remain, she decides against this offer. Their filthy faces and devilish grins are all it takes to make such a choice. Getting to her feet as well, she stuffs her arms back in the sleeves and looks to those who sat closest to the man who was now petting the largest of four black dogs through iron bars.

"Please, inform him that Belial was last seen heading away from the mountain, but that this doesn't mean he couldn't be heading back."

"And what if we run into a few of your Pureblood friends out there?" One of the men asks, with a voice not unlike that of the swine he is currently eating. "Should we not engage them?"

Devough, with her back turned to them, thinks on this for a moment. Knowing that most everything she has told them has been nothing but lies since her arrival, aside from Belial's condition and the crumbling system she has come to know, she chooses to tell one more.

"Achlys has suggested that your efforts leave nothing living that does not accept you as the new power. Any you may find outside of Keep, and those within it, are considered a threat until proven otherwise." Starting off once more, she navigates through the first wave of dancing peers, leaving them with one last line of encouragement. "The Keep is yours, but The Purebloods must come to an end."