Euphemia Martell

Euphemia Martell

Knight
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It was nice to just finally have a moment to get out of that stiff armor and wear something less constricting, granting being injured on her last trip out was more the reason for that, but she wasn't going as stir crazy as she might have thought. A simple, homespun gown of dark green hung from her shoulders as she walked through the hallways of the monastery of the Order of Anathaeum. A well carved staff in her hand as she walked to make sure she didn't walk into anything, though over the years she'd come to memorize the halls quite well.

People moved about on their own business, their shine within the shroud making it easy to pick out who was who as they walked by. They all looked the same initially, but as she'd grown in her use of the loch they now each took on unique appearances. Whether that was something that she had initiated on her own or something truly unique within the shroud she didn't know, but she was thankful for it either way.

It was thanks to this that she recognized a figure coming down the hall. She hadn't seen Castor about recently, likely on a mission of some kind as happened often enough. He was a member of the Dusk Sanctum as well and they'd trained together a before. "Good evening Castor." She greeted as they came across each other in the hall. "How have you been? I don't believe I've seen you around recently. The Captain keeping you busy?" A gentle smile on her face as her pale eyes looked at where she knew he was standing, even if she couldn't see him, just his shroud.​
 
"Fucking gods," swore the knight as he roused from his bed. Sweat soaked his mattress and brow alike. Visions of ascending into a storm unheralded swam through his memories. He buckled as nausea struck him with unwelcome force. Bile rose in his throat but did not find release. He'd once strode through a necromancer's barrow, the knight would not lose his stomach here.

The dormitory's once fresh air felt unusually stale so he donned his casual tunic and sought for destination anywhere but. He passed a number of knights along the hallways giving them a tried response.

Finally in the Hall of Moon did he find a blissful respite from decorum. Yet it arrived as quickly as it came, familiar voice dragging him from inevitable recollection.

"Better than most, worse than some," he replied with a cynical grin. "Been worked like a drafthorse if I'm being honest but keep that to yourself." Evil didn't sleep apparently but gods did Castor wish he could.

"And you, has our slick-headed Lady of Dusk kept you occupied?"
 
Effie shook her head with a wistful smile. "Will you walk with me?" She asked as she waved a hand in the direction of the doors that would lead out to the gardens and the forest beyond. There was something on the edge of Castor's aura that seemed out of sorts, not that she could pick out much more than that. Yet, she felt that perhaps a leisurely walk in the fresh air might be welcome for them both.

"Not too busy. Just some basic patrol duty. Last one we ran into a bandit camp, so I'm on temporary injury leave as this broken rib finishes healing. The Pursuant of Light healed it the best they could, but still needs a day or two until the soreness is completely gone." She answered easily as they began walking down the hall. The sounds of their steps and the staff moved back and forth across the stone clicking lightly helping to guide her along.

"Now I don't recommend injury in order to get some rest, but you might consider it." She joked lightly, as they reached one of lesser used back doors. Pressing her hand against the wood, she pushed it open. A fresh breeze greeting them immediately, the air cool as winter had started to change to spring.
 
"I suppose a bit of fresh air wouldn't hurt," mused the knight, though his head was telling him otherwise. Any bit of distraction was welcome at this point. He took a glance towards his fellow sworn. Blessed by the Eldyr though they were, a broken rib was a broken rib. Doesn't matter whether it came by cultist or clueless; an easy lesson to forget.

"Bandit's eh?" said Castor with a slight wistfulness. "Be nice if things were always that simple." He ran a hand through his scruff of long black hair in a moment of embarrassment. Why the hells was he whining? Castor knew better than most that a sharp-edge didn't discriminate. "Glad you're walking about," he added in attempt to salvage his previous comment.

The cool winds of the Monastery's elevation was a welcome slap to the face. "See, that's whats got me worried. Some can't see, there's a big bastard without an arm, and one master is properly dead. Not sure 'injured' is going to cut it anymore."

Castor allowed himself a moment to gather his knightly self. "So tell me about these bandits. You're not the type to be caught off guard."
 
Her eyes remained forward as they walked, her staff moving along the ground to be sure that she didn't step poorly. The Order had been through a lot recently, so she wasn't so surprised at the wise for times to be more simple. She'd been just a squire when the Master of Loch had been killed dealing with the blight. They had gone expecting the mission to be just simple, but it had been anything but. Master Hawthorn had helped to teach her about Loch, which had led to her discovering the ability to see via the shroud.

She chuckled. "I suppose if they can all still fight, despite their afflictions, then a little injury shouldn't hold us back right?" Even being among those Castor had mentioned, there were times when she felt that she would still hold her partners on assignment. There were times were she didn't feel strong enough for the fights ahead.

Pushing aside the doubts for now, she focused in back on his words. He wasn't wrong. It was hard to catch her off guard when her vision was based on the shroud. Few could hide the enate glow of the shroud within. "We came upon a caravan that had been attacked and were going about helping the injured that we'd found. I believe the bandits had heard us coming as they were looting their initial target and so set a trap to catch us off guard." It was a trick that seemed much too sophisticated for the lot.

"Defending others makes fighting a bit more complicated." It meant all moves were really defending two, yourself and the others. Even if she'd gotten injured, she'd managed to help protect the families that were traveling in the caravan. "We managed to defend against the bandits. Killing most, but a few managed to get away. Escorting the families traveling was a bigger priority than chasing after the few."​
 
"Well no that wasn't exactly what I was-" began the knight before leaving it at that. He was field-sworn, not raised in the bosom of the Monastery. Most had been here longer than him. The vow was important to Castor but he wasn't a saint. He'd spent too much time simply trying to survive to pretend that he was anything but. The selflessness he saw daily both irritated and shamed him in equal measure.

He considered the other sworn's words. "These bastards sound a little more enterprising than the usual rabble." Occasionally you'd see the more competent bandit. A band of deserters from a proper unit, or simply mercenaries that couldn't find work.

"That's true, still haven't gotten used to it if I'm being honest," admitted the dusker. "Used to think it was easier to handle business without the extra-" He stopped there, no longer confident in things he once believed. "Sounds like you put in a shift. Better that a few got away. If they're as clever as you say, could be a chance to cut the head off the dragon."

Castor wore a casual grin. "Don't leave me out the next go around."
 
Her held tilted to the side as he started to speak and then paused as if thinking better of it. Perhaps she'd misunderstood what he'd meant initially. Then the moment was past as they discussed the bandits.

"I didn't mean to leave you out this time." Effie said, a joke in her tone as she flashed a smile back at the Dusker. "If you'd like to practice more defensive style fighting I'd be happy to spar with you some time. We can find a lovely burlap sack to fill with straw to act as a poor damsel in distress."

"It should be considered that group be created to go find the remaining bandits. Left out there, they'll find more to pull into their group and continue to harass caravans and travelers." The tone turning back serious now as she returned to the topic of the bandits. "I said as much in my report, but it's in the hands of the Captains now." It wasn't that she didn't think they would do what was necessary, she just hadn't heard anything yet about it.​
 
"No, I think I'd rather keep to a normal bout. Gods know there are enough people in distress, damsels or otherwise," replied the knight with a half-grin. He wasn't entirely sure that the other sworn was jesting. It could however make for interesting training among the squires. A suggestion to shuffle up the ladder should the opportunity arise.

Unrelenting chatter paused any thought as a gaggle of initiates passed by. Castor looked to them with vague amusement, momentarily wondering at a past unspoken.

"They'll get their due. The taste of coin doesn't wash off that easily. Can't catch them if they sit quiet."

Castor tossed the dusker a knowing grin. "Just keep yourself keen."
 
"Fine, Fine - a normal bout then." She said with a slight wave of her hand in reassurance. Though she still considered adding such a practice to her own training. The broken rib spurring her on to be better than before. She'd ended up lucky that her armor had taken much of the blow and that the traveling caravan had not been harmed. Luck was on her side this time, but what of the next.

A group of initiates past by and her eyes squinted against the clustered light of the shroud. She probably shouldn't have been relying on it as much as she had while she was healing. She could feel a headache brewing.

Effie nodded. He wasn't wrong. Bandits would continue to engage in banditry until it would result in their end. Yet she couldn't help but be concerned as to how many more might be harmed before then. "I would sleep better at night knowing that they were no longer out there on the road." She supposed that was another skill that just came in time. Accepting that they did what they could and not everything could end with a favorable conclusion.

She followed a well known path around the grounds of the monastery. It would help her from stumbling along the walk as she released the on going spell that allowed her the shroud sight, an attempt to head off the headache early. "What of your last mission? Harder than you expected?" She asked remembering his comment earlier about being worked to the bone.​
 
"Think you've found the wrong profession if you're looking for a good night's sleep," chuckled the sworn. "But aye, I get what you mean. Some of the things we see, well, they're not easily ignored. But we can't always do something about it." A shitty truth, one which any knight worth their salt struggled with. Castor didn't consider himself particularly righteous but even he couldn't turn a blind eye to some of the horrors witnessed. His encounters the Sightless represented the worst among them. Yet he sometimes considered how they weighed against the everyday injustices of this world. "Anyways the scum will get their due, either by your hand or another's."

He nearly stumbled at the inquiry into his last mission. Hard? Oh, that was truly the understatement for the ages. Not that he blamed the other knight, much of what occurred was still only known to a few. Castor could almost feel the nausea of holding onto a dragon's back for dear life as they ascended a vortex. He didn't believe in the gods but surely someone had been looking out for him.

"Never been seasick in my life, turns out the skies are a bit different. Let's just say if my grip had been any looser, I'd be an ornament instead of talking to you here." Castor shuddered at the thought. "Have you met knight Darthinian and her...companion?" He nearly said 'pet' but Norvyk had saved Castor's life, the dragon had earned a bit of respect.
 
She nodded. He was right and her letting her worry win out was certainly not helping herself or doing anything to help the situation either way. It would still likely still bother her, it wasn't something that she could just forget about, but she also had to recognize that if she was meant to do something about it, then she would.

Effie had heard of the knight and the dragon. Who hadn't heard of the knight with the dragon companion? That had been the talk of the squires for months. It was one of the things that she had longed to see more than anything. She'd only managed a glance of the creature in the skies once. The creature so bright in the shroud.

"You rode on the dragon?" She said in awe as she focused on perhaps the wrong piece of the conversation. She would have cherished such an opportunity, at least that's what she thought anyways.​
 
"That'd be putting it nicely," chuckled the knight. "More me holding on for dear life. Had me praying to gods I didn't believe in." The other sworn's expression had him doubting she'd heed the cautionary tale. "Well, maybe you'll take to it better than I did." Castor was usually good to try anything once but he certainly wasn't keen on seconds' in this instance.

"Thrice-cursed cultists," he swore with a sigh. "Be nice if we never have to deal with them again but something tells me that's not in the cards." The 'war' or whatever this contention was, did not seem to be coming to a head anytime soon. He'd considered briefly just walking away from it all. After all, a knight's calling never really seemed right for him. The problem was some of these uptight, righteous, glorious bastards had saved his hide, more than once at that.

Words were wind, but those were debts Castor couldn't ignore. So here he was, and here he would stay. "You had any run-ins with them yet?"
 
"If only I'll be able to get that opportunity." She could only wish. She expected being given the respect enough by the creature to be able to sit astride it was not exactly easy to earn. If it was to happen then it would.

The mood sobered. "Not as of yet. I suppose I should consider myself lucky, but I don't imagine that luck will end up holding out." It seemed that more and more of the Order were ending up in confrontations with the strange cultists. None of which seemed to end pleasantly at all. There'd been injuries plenty and the loss of more than one good person thanks to the cultists and she hated that it wasn't likely to be over soon.

"I haven't heard anything good in terms of what to expect should I come face to face with them." She was also highly aware of their nature toward . . . eye lessness. A strange marking of the group and one that she couldn't help but be apprehensive about it with her own nature, the blindness that she'd lived with since birth.​
 
"That's true enough. Their zealotry takes many forms. Most of the rank-and-file seemed gripped by a singular purpose, madness really. Taking an arm won't be enough," explained the dusker, recounting his own experiences against them. They attacked in seemingly endless waves and water didn't care much if you slashed at it. "Can't let your guard down even for a moment."

Death was always just a breath away. "As for those who serve the 'Watcher more directly, I've only heard stories of his so-called Chosen. Best hope you just don't run into them at all."

"Ah-" he began to say something else but stopped, running a frustrated hand through hair. "Let's stop talking about those bastards lest we lose what remaining cheer we still have." The two walked in silence again as Castor was somewhat at a loss. It'd felt like an eternity since the Sworn had engaged in any manner of casual conversation. This was proving to be a stark reminder of how distanced he was from matters of the Monastery as of late.
 
The blind knight listened as Castor spoke of his experience with the cult. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to fight against an opponent with such single minded purpose that even life threatening injuries wasn't even enough to stop them. "I shall pray that we will find ourselves rid of them soon. Though prayers only go so far. Nor do I expect them to help in this instance." Keeping the her sword sharp and her mind ready, would serve her better than prayers. She wouldn't back down should she end up face to face with the servants of the Everwatcher.

Effie nodded her head as they continued to walk though the monastery grounds, letting the previous conversation slip away. At least in conversation. Like many in the knight's, the Everwatcher's cult was often in their thoughts. Ever lurking in the shadows, the cult seemed to be spreading like the Blight.

"Have you ever given thought as to where you would be if you weren't here?" If she recalled correctly, Castor had come to the Knights later in life, not one of those raised here. She'd found herself thinking about where she might be if they hadn't taken her in as a child.
 
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