It would have been a lie for Aranida to state that the Northern woman was what she expected. In all honesty she didn't even know what to expect but, the woman standing before her was dressed in a manner that made even the liberal Lady of the house blink twice with a blank expression. It was a momentary pause and then she smiled genuinely, at least it meant that things would remain interesting. She tended to loath diplomatic meeting, and the life sucking dreary details they usually involved.

"Welcome to the House of Lancaster," stated Aranida formally "I'm am Aranida Gwendolyn Lancaster, ruling Lady of this house and Commander of the city's Dragon Guard Forces. However you may simply call me Aranida, no need for lady either." She directed the woman's attention to Dhejuti "This is my loyal and most trusted of servants Dhejuti. Please sit down if you like, and tell me what it is you require."

As Tyr exited, vaguely dismissing Lear's question, Qalim turned to the remainder of the non-inhabitants.

"Yes, it is rather late isn't it?" he remarked before turning to Lear, "And don't you worry about us leaving without you. We don't even have any supplies, let alone preparation for a journey across the land on such short notice. You'll still find us here tomorrow, perhaps so that we may start looking for items necessary for what lies ahead."

With that, his fathered started to shoo away the others as he went inside and prepared his bed for Seras. Tonight, he would be sleeping at his desk.

The details of the journey were already starting to finalise in his head. First of all, he would have to have someone send a message to Tyr's people so that they were not left out. Secondly, he would have to do something about the supposed massacres in Jenogh. They would have to undoubtedly find a way to save the faithful there. Lastly, since the Filistine Desert was now under the governance of Lear's kingdom, he would have to find a way to have the people enter without causing too much trouble. And then what? If he gathered them all, what were they to do? Was there a way she could speak to God? To allow them to once again rejoin him? Perhaps that was Lear's purpose. Now he was thinking too far ahead, forgetting that he had to concern himself with the immediate logistic issues. That and the fact that he had to deliver that Aranida lady's book if he was going to leave town. Another thing he had to do tomorrow.

Lear made his way to the out skirts of the city once more, pushing through the thick black that now covered the streets. As he exited the city gates his eyes met the wondrous light of the stars and moon gazing down upon him as the soon to be late night air twirled about him ever so slightly. He felt his lungs fill with an easy air, an air that he had not drawn the whole time he was in the shambled city. Taking a moment, Lear closed his eyes, drowning out the slight noises of civilization and embracing the wooden excellence around him. Slowly his hand dropped into his pocket pulling out a small instrument he brought it up to his lips. He paused for a moment and opened his eyes before playing a sad, sweet tune, the music lasted for no more than two minutes before he stopped and took a seat. From out in the woods he was answered back by the continuation of the song he was playing and in the distance multiple men darted towards his locations.


Lear stood as the men halted before him and one stepped forward.

"You found absolute gold then." The man questioned as he stepped into the light, he wore a uniform in some ways the same as Lear's but much more formal.

"Yes, it'll be meeting me in the morning here. it's bringing multiple attendants with it. We'll need food and water for them as well."

The man motioned his hand as the others quickly retreated back into the forest.

"We're on it, I expect that they will be here on time." The stranger turned and slowly made his way back to the forest the sounds of horses echoed out from afar.


Lear sat back down and rested against a tree and continued to play, his job was done for now.

“We don’t like strangers ‘round these parts,” came the voice from small rifle-wielding figure behind him. Quozr nearly burst out laughing at the sound of the ridiculously fake accent. “Tokran, you rascal,” he replied as he turned around, smiling. “Threatening your elders with high-caliber weaponry is frowned upon in most societies.” The boy lifted his hood, revealing a freckled face with a wide grin on it. “I got you good, didn’t I?”, he said, obviously quite proud of himself. “That you did,” admitted Quozr. Tokran was a sandy-haired youth, about fourteen years old, though he was small for one his age. A small black tattoo adorned the left side of his neck. It depicted a salamander curved in a circular shape, superimposed on an X. This labeled him as an expert marksman, for those who could read the ancient script. Kringnik was fond of old symbolism, and used such signs to mark all the members of his organization. Quozr himself sported one in the same place, an owl’s head with a dagger on the right. A short black band bridged the gap between the two.

For indeed this young lad was a member of the same crime group as the blind man. In fact, he was one of Quozr’s only true friends. The two shared a brother-like bond, despite the difference in age. Tokranius Mojave Birladano Nokmirenof III, that was the boy’s full name, though he now went by Tokran. He had been sold as a slave when a rival family had taken over his father’s estate through a devious coup that had brought the wealthy Nokmirenofs to their knees, or worse. Kringnik had found him promising, purchased him from the slave traders and began his training as a sniper. The crime king’s intuition proved right, as Tokran had excelled in this particular field.

“And where are you off to today,” asked Quozr, “that such a man would intercept your journey?” The two of them were walking in the streets, having left Tokran’s injured assailant in the alleyway a few blocks back. The patrols would find him sooner or later. “Eh, I coulda taken him,” replied Tokran. “I was just about to get’im in a strangle hold when you came and jumped on his back.” Despite a cultured upbringing, the boy had seen it fit to adopt a slightly less sophisticated dialect. “To help disguise my nobility or somethin’,” he had said. Quozr chuckled as he spoke back, “Indeed, it certainly looked as though you had him on the ropes.” Tokran spat as his response. “Anyway,” he said, changing the subject. “Boss got some reports of a disturbance at the old man’s book store. Wanted me to go have a look.” Tokran leaned close and pulled Quozr’s head down as he whispered his next sentence. “I heard that it’s got somethin’ to do with the yellow eyes.” Quozr’s interest was piqued. He didn’t know much about them, but the yellow eyes were said to have some link to the world’s lost magic. If it were true... Quozr was snapped out of his revery by Tokran’s more material interests. “Some say,” he whispered again, “that the yellow eyes’ blood is actually liquid gold. That’s where the pigment comes from. Could you imagine? Prick a finger, and you’ve got yourself food for a week.” The boy smiled as he enjoyed his own little revery of roast turkey and potatoes.

The two companions had reached a crossroads. Tokran had to go one way, Quozr the other. “This is where we part, my friend,” said the elder. “Be careful. The old man’s son isn’t overly fond of our boss, if you catch my meaning.” “Yeah, I’ll be careful. See you ‘round, Quozr.” With that, the boy pulled his hood back over his head and headed to the right. Quozr turned left, on his way to complete his “assignment.” But his mind was no longer on Commander Aranida Lancaster. As he walked the streets, he thought only of the enigmatic yellow eyes, and whether or not they held the key to his mother’s illness.

Now that Elednor left those people to what they have, he found himself lost in the black market. "Maybe it is time for me to leave this place" Elednor considered once again his chances and decided to return home to sleep it over.

OOC: Remnants group can call it a day, I'll fast forward to tomorrow once we finish with the Jenogh group.
Thai: This is around the point where the differences between the remnant clans is described. Go ahead and write about the desert region remnants, since they can be seen as your creation in a sense.

The woman focused her gaze towards Aranida's eyes, and like many other remnants, set her piercing yellow irises towards her with little content. Her stiff and condescending mature was a frequent issue, being that she saw the humans being below remnants because the humans kill at whim and the northern remnants despise violence because it separates them from the state that they must be in to channel God.

"There is no need, I wouldn't address you with any pleasantries either way. You are neither an elder nor God, so there is no reverence reserved for you."

She paused, as if she realized she was acting rude.
Dhejuti, stared her down, but did not interrupt the woman's time to speak. He would chide her in the future and make sure she understood the full consequences of her tone.

"I am Avia, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Aranida." She continued, the tone of her voice warming.
"Our names have a similar initial sound. Legend has it that every initial sound has a purpose, and A denotes that we may be kindred souls, sisters born separately but are called to return to one another."
A small smile formed on her lips as the last words left her lips.

"However, I'm going off topic. The reason I came to your country is because of the lawless actions of Jenogh. They kill us for no reason other than that we are swine to them. What we seek is some sort of protection. Most Northern countries don't wish to meddle in the affairs of Jenogh because they fear backlash. The King has promised me several small 'platoons,' and yours happens to be one of them. I already contacted the other two, but only one, led by a venerable man called Norman."

Aranida didn't expect the woman to be so curt with her, and she felt that her attempt at being inviting had gone in vain. However once Avia properly introduced herself, even insinuating that they could be sister's from another life, another time, a spark of hope that the entire ordeal wouldn't be painfully formal ignited within her eyes. She wasn't exactly sure what she believed concerning the otherworld, the afterlife or anything that she couldn't physically observe. She wondered how Avia and her people managed to have so much faith even though most of them have never seen their god they constantly mentioned. She nodded once the woman had finished speaking.

"Yes, I've been told that the Jenogh are conducting a genocide of sorts." she said with a frown "I'm glad that his majesty has decided to select my guard force in aiding your people. I feel like the entire world has succumbed to some sort of madness since the disappearance of magic. Everyone has lost commonsense and courtesy, even within this city the crime rate has increased exponentially."

She turned to Dhejuti "Please have the Dragon Guard told to prepare themselves for a journey up North, it surely won't be pretty so we'll need them adequately prepared with durable weaponry, and enough supplies to last us the journey there, a month or so in the conflicted territory and the journey back." Turning back to the woman while sliding her pistols into her belt that had been brought into the room by the servant she had spoken to discreetly, she smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry, I'll do my very best to help your people. Have you already selected a date for when we shall depart Avia?"

Dhejuti stood up at once, bowing to his mistress and leaving the room to contact the guard. He threw a dirty glance at Avia one last time, her behavior still on his mind.

Avia ignored his gaze and still stared into Aranida's eyes with a slight smile.
"Thank you, sister, if you do not mind me calling you that. I suggest that we leave as soon as possible, 5 days at the most. I can wait that long, but no further. The Elder wishes for protection immediately. However, I would like to know this village you call home. Where I come from I have never seen such groups of people so congested in one space. If you could do me any personal favors, it would be that."

"Five days is plenty of time to get my troops ready." replied Aranida in a friendly manner. "And I'd be glad to offer you a tour of our city. There truly is a variety of things to see in this city. I'll arrange for a carriage to pick us up." She then turned to one of her servants, whom she instructed to prepare a small group of guards and her carriage. She was travelling with someone whom people apparently wanted to kill, it would be in their best interests to take all precautions. Speaking of which, Aranida patted her vest pockets feeling for the various capsules of bullets she always kept. She had a random assortment of bullets, tranquillizers, weak poisons, ones that were highly combustible after being shot, another that seemed to be a flare of sorts, and another that released a thick smoke after being fired. Bullets. They were much more reliable than magic ever was.

"That would be perfect. Thank you, sister." Avia responded.

She turned back to grab her ancient bow and placed the strap of her quiver over her right shoulder. The quiver hung low by her left hip, so that she had easy access to the arrows when she was loading another volley.

Dhejuti returned after a moment outside informing the guard of the plans. As he entered the room, he noticed that both Aranida and Avia were preparing as if they were leaving? He saw this as the right time to confront Avia for her behavior earlier.

"Mistress, I see you are leaving somewhere. Town perhaps?" he began.
"If you may, please leave Miss Avia for a minute so that I may ask her for further details about the plan so that I may give the guard a more detailed explanation."

Qalim dreamt of his people that night.

They were devout desert nomads with few select settlements wherever there was water. They held hospitality to be a sacred rule, giving a guest up to three days worth. Primarily earning a living as escorts and trailblazers as well as famous for their roaming medical and police caravans, the nomads plied the trade routes between Jenogh and the realms to the far east of the desert. That was their way and that was how they were able to find out about much of the world. Through their travel and contact with other peoples, the nomad remnants of the Filistine were able to learn of the world as it changed; and they recorded everything. In addition to their hospitality, the nomads of Filistine had learned the value of knowledge and the power it wielded. This was as much a blessing as much as it was a curse. The nomads are not easily swayed and once one has championed a cause, it will only be after he has given it his full consideration. This could take the better part of many years as he sought the information a nomad needed to make a choice. For many, the pursuit of knowledge and information was like an addiction or an insatiable appetite no matter how hard they attempted to control it.

Back when magic still existed, Qalim was told of the power they wielded in secret. Of its greatest and nefarious purposes and how it reaffirmed God for them when they by chance caught of a glimpse of his heavenly domain. Perhaps that is why God had taken away their magic, not that they had relied on it as much as other civilisations. It was merely studied and documented, like everything else in the world, be it fauna or flora, existing or extinct. It could be said that they were a people well aware of the world they lived in.

As such, and due to the nature of the location in which they lived, the nomad remnants were fully clothed, unlike other clans or lineages which choose to forego select articles of clothing if not altogether. Their hooded robes were made of tough fibre from the plants that grew in the driest of patches and were designed to be as comfortable to wear as possible in the heat of day. Their buildings are similarly designed from desert materials, masoned stone and mud bricks, all bleached white be the slow erosion of windswept sand. Otherwise, they would have to make do with makeshift hide tents made from their pack animals called camels. However, due to their remnant traits, their skin had not darkened to the colour of black ash but rather a more sandy brown like the desert sand itself. Many travellers who pass through the area don't even notice the abundance of yellow eyes, considering it to be a reflection of those who dwell in a similarly yellow environment. However, the most peculiar and fiercely hidden trait of all of the nomad remnants were hidden underneath their skin. Their knowledge of surgery had enabled them to turn their bodies in to weapons. This was only undertaken by those who wished for it and proved to be able to handle the duress of having a weapon or blade surgically implanted within them. Qalim himself knew the pain all too well, as well as the pain of having to draw and sheath said weapon. It itched occasionally when he was drawing blood but otherwise it did not intrude upon his life as much as it could have.

Something else that itched was the desert sand itself. To a stranger of the region, it was a harsh and unforgiving beast. Not only was it hot during the day but the nights were devoid of cloud cover and consequently, heat. The mountains of sand were also one of its many obstacles. Thankfully, there are paths that were well carved out by the feet of countless nomads to assist any traveller on their journey through. Only a seasoned trailblazer would dare to stray off of them. A typical journey through would start from the western outpost of Phoenicia, through the heart of the desert and nomad settlement, Filistine, before finally emerging on the eastern side city of Palmyria. This would take at most ten days if the sandstorm around the Hattusa flats and the shifting sands of Damas were at their worst.

Weather. That was something else that Qalim had forgotten to take in to account, not that he could do anything about it right now in the middle of the night. He only opened his eyes briefly to scan the room, ensuring that the messenger and his family slept soundly before shifting to the side and resuming his rest.

((Just tell me when it's morning.))

Aranida nodded to Dhejuti and smiled once more in the direction of Avia, "I shall see you in the front courtyard, the carriage should be drawn up by then." She closed the door silently behind herself and left the room, briefly wondering what Dhejuti wanted to ask her. It was of no concern to herself, and she laughed to herself, wondering how she would function without Dhejuti and Greya.

Dhejuti came up to Avia and gripped her shoulder.
She immediately pulled herself away, a portion of her robe falling from its perch on her shoulder and her robe revealing far more of her body than before. In Northern beliefs, the body was sacred and could only be touched by those with close relationships, mostly that of familial relations. For a man to touch a woman without them being in an intimate relationship is a severe sin in the eyes of the Northern remnants.

Her expression shifting to that of fear and shame, she sloppily tugged the robe back up and ran from the room.

Dhejuti watched in amazement as she bolted out, unaware of what he had done.

Aranida waited outside of her carriage, sitting on the wooden step that allowed the passengers to step into the compartment. Even though she had just returned from an outing a few hours ago, it was clear that her servants had already scoured the carriage, as they traditionally did every time she left. Light blue curtains covered the windows of the sides and the back of the carriage and the spokes of the wheels gleamed as if they were just made. She didn't even have to go inside to know that the inside was pristine, every speck of dust and dirt would have been swept off the floor of the carriage and the cushions of the seats brushed to perfection. Aranida admired the work of her servants, her parents trained them well, and their obedience came through respect of the family, not fear or income. She rubbed her eye briefly feeling them beginning to water at the thought of her parents. She must be strong, for the household, for the dragon guard, and for herself.

She looked up as Avia exited the main doors in what appeared to be a hurry, she seemed distraught. "Is everything alright Avia?" she asked honestly concerned.

Avia decided to hide her shame. No one but God should have to know of her sins, and she would pray later for forgiveness when she was in a private area.

"No." She replied, a slight stutter forming behind the words. She rubbed her shoulder as the robe fell from its perch again.

"We can leave now."

She felt better around Aranida. It was not she did not trust the man, Dhejuti, it was just that he was a man. Aranida was different, there was definitely something about her that seemed so. Though she only knew her for so long, she gave off strong, positive vibes that she had not felt since she left her village a week earlier.