The bulls are sedated, and this fight's fixed

"So do you understand now?" Bryn continued to avoid Aran's eyes. She had been avoiding them for almost the whole second half of her story, and she knew that he could tell something was off. And it wasn't just her family this time. She actively avoided certain things. Like the confrontation in the ruins. Like her run in with the people of Evermeet. Like the fact that she wasn't nearly as redeemable as he liked to think she was. He was too forgiving, and the more she looked, the more she saw some of her brother in him. And that just made her sad, because she had only come to terms with the fact that she saw some of Killian in Stalar as well. So that made three people she would be letting down: Aran, Stalar, and Killian by proxy. That was why she had left in the first place. So that she would stop letting people down.

Aran's words finally drew her out of her thoughts. "If you want, we could work on decoding the impossible again." His voice was soft, and the hiss of draconic was a comfort. It was so different compared to the harsh sounds of dwarven that she had been listening to. Even common felt weird to her after she spoke for long enough in her friend's native tongue. She nodded slightly, and the papers suddenly appeared in her line of sight.

Maybe it was the fact that she had just relived the last ten years of her life. Maybe it was the fact that friends were on the mind, or maybe it was the strong drink running through her veins. But something seemed to click, and the symbols on the paper seemed to make sense. Not literally, though. No, they were still just as unreadable as ever. But it dawned on her, the missing piece. "This is a code." Aran looked at her like she had lost her mind.
"Yes, we've established that."
"No, no. Like it's not just encoded. It's a code itself. We have the code and not the key. And it's not just that, but the encoding for the code is in another language translated into another language. There's got to be like two other layers of languages on top of whatever it started as. Look, it looks like regular Iokharic script, right? But when translated, it makes no sense, and it seems really... weird, right? Flowy and flowery and shit? I was wondering why that seemed odd. It's because we're translating into common, when it should be elven! Or whatever they write in." Bryn beamed and Aran just continued looking at her as though she had taken one too many blows to the head. She pointed to the other parchment, the one they had written their makeshift translation on. "That right there. I was wondering where it seemed familiar. Try saying it." There was no need, though, because she attempted the very thing a second later. "It's like one of the words my friend used to say. Whatever this was, it was important enough for someone to either learn a bunch of languages to keep it from prying eyes, or they had a lot of people helping. Because no one just knows a lot of languages." Her mind supplied Stalar, but she ignored it and amended her statement. "Most people don't just know a lot of languages. It's not something you really think of." She saw recognition in Aran's eyes as well, and she knew that they had stumbled onto something.
"You're right. But how do we do this then?"
"I got it. But it's gonna take time. And energy. And you're gonna have to trust me. This wedding comes first, because honestly, I'm still really nervous about it. This has been a nice distraction, but now I have to really focus and make sure I don't screw this up." She left out the again. Aran nodded in agreement, and she smiled. Once the wedding was over and the excitement blew over, she'd ask Stalar for help with all of this. He knew a bunch of odd languages, and since one was Elven, she knew that he could help. It was exciting. Almost like stealing and disarming traps. Almost.

Her thoughts were far from the code, however, when the wedding occurred. They stayed off of it when she followed Rockwell to Goldpoint. And it may as well have been in a different plane of existence when they were fighting off the giants during what should have been the honeymoon. What a way to spend a wedding.

I'm a mascot for what you've become. & I love the mayhem more than the love.

She had seen cities before, but Bryn had never seen anything quite like Evermeet. Small, squat taverns sat in between large buildings held together by magic. One building was twenty times taller than her, and she couldn't even see the top if she bent backwards. It was invigorating and dream-crushing at the same time. Just the kind of place she needed.

The people in said city were about as nice as the atmosphere. Most people ran into her and then ran on, not even mumbling an apology. It was as if even that recognition would be a burden to their apparently busy lives. The change of pace threw her off kilter a bit. And it didn't get better as the day slowly shifted into night. The normally stunning display of oranges and pinks that signaled the end of the day were covered by buildings and smoke, the by product of some spell or another. The result was a dreary mix of brown and grey that honestly made Bryn feel depressed and a tad homesick. But she had gone come to the big city for a reason. And experience, but that was looking less important now. No, now she was focused on two things: getting the information she was looking for, and seeing if any of her friends had made it here. If she could find one of them, maybe she could travel with them for a bit. It would make her feel better after having been away for so long. Something in the back of her mind was itching, telling her that there was no way things were finished, that at very least there had to be others like her & Rockwell.

It took her over a month to finish her search. Over a month of stopping in every arcane store, scouring every library and archive, of visiting and talking to every magic and ritual caster she could find. None of them had what she was looking for. There were a few names she hadn't gone over yet, but her hopes were starting to fall. She looked across the counter and listened to yet another shopkeeper drone on about the period it was from, the fact that she shouldn't have things like this, this and that. It was boring. Bryn interrupted him with a sigh and waved her hand. "Look, can you read it or not? Because if you can't read it and tell me what it is, I'd like to know." The shopkeeper scoffed at her.
"Can I read it? This is older than either of us can imagine, and you ask if I can read it. Do you even know what it is you're holding?"
"I'm pretty sure you just lectured me on it for the past ten minutes. Look, I really want to get something to eat. I'm starving and running out of patience. Can. You. Read. It." A beat, then a sigh.
"No. And I don't think you'll find anyone in this city who can. But you might want to try... Here." He scribbled something onto a piece of paper. When he handed it over, Bryn felt a twinge of recognition, but she couldn't place it exactly. She knew the place written down, but didn't know why she knew it. "There's a guy there who may be of more help. He may not be there, but he shouldn't be hard to find. Only arcane user in that or any other nearby village." Bryn thanked him and left, trying to figure out why the name looked so familiar. It wasn't until she was halfway to the town that it hit her like harder than Rockwell's hammer or Emeire's spells. But she continued on. "Well, this is just going to ruin the surprise now, won't it?"

Bryn hadn't stepped foot into Hartshire since... well, since the incident with the robbers. There was no telling how Aran would react, but Bryn was sure it would be just like old times. He'd be patient, understanding, and she'd just sit there and look as though she had been caught sneaking sweets. Again. It had been a common occurrence when she had lived there. Her hand was poised at the knocker, and although she wanted to just get on with it, something stopped her. Her heart was almost certainly racing around her lungs and through her stomach, doing laps that she had long lost count of. She could have thanked the gods that the papers were in her bag, because her hands were sweating and she could have sworn she saw one shake. The great Bryn Swiftrunner, nervous to meet an old friend. It was almost too good, but she couldn't really appreciate the moment right now, seeing as how she was living it. Before she had a change to act, however, the door swung open and a young lady walked into her. "Oh I'm so sorry, I wasn't... Bryn? Wild Woman Bryn? Well, I'll be! You remember me, right? Little Charissa? Probably not, I was only about seven last you saw me. Oh, I'll let you go, but it's good to see you back!" Her words were a jumbled to Bryn's ears, but Bryn somehow managed to separate them from the noises that she was producing to show that she was indeed listening, and did indeed remember. That's when Charissa decided to do something before Bryn could stop her; she turned back toward the inside and yelled for Aran. "You got a visitor, Ar! Little Bryn's back."

Time seemed to slow down as Bryn watched events unfold. She gave Charissa one last hug and wished her and her brother well (apparently he was off adventuring now), and suddenly copper scales filled her vision. "Bryn. It's been a long time." Everything was the same. It was as if Bryn had been transported back over 10 years to when she was still living with her friend. Before she had gone on grand adventures. Before she found and left her clan again, and certainly before she was the mess she was now. Her feet suddenly became very interesting, and she shifted from one to the other with a nervous energy that seemed unsuited to her.
"Um, hi. I got you something. I hope you like it but I can't find anyone to translate it, and that's actually why I was here, and this isn't going as planned at all and I'm sorry but I tried I can't believe it's really you and you aren't mad at me because I'd be mad at me why aren't you mad at me and the town people still remember me this is - " her long winded rant was cut short by deep laughter. It had started as a chuckle somewhere in the middle of her speech and ended up full blown laughter.
"Bryn, slow down. You're going to confuse me more than I already am. I got that this is mine," he motioned to the papers he now held, "and I got that you're nervous. But that's about all I got." Bryn felt herself go red, and just nodded. He gestured inside and the two of them quickly found themselves seated in the kitchen-slash-workshop. "Please, continue. And slowly this time." She repeated all the information, leaving out details such as where she had come from and where the papers had been before finding their way into her possession. In true Aran fashion, he sat through the whole thing and just nodded, listening and apparently deep in thought. The two of them bounced ideas off each other as to what the papers were, and why they had been intact for all these years when they were obviously so old. It was almost just like old times.

It took another two years to get even close to breaking the code that was in the papers. It was odd, because Aran had all but confirmed it to be Dragonborn text, but even then neither of them could understand it. By that time, Bryn had fallen back into the habit of living with another person. She found comfort in the small village, telling stories both to the kids and to the people who were kids when she left, and were now young adults. Some of them even had their own kids, and those were her favorite. It was odd, because seeing them all grown up should have reminded her of her own age, but she didn't really feel any different. Maybe it was because she had spent the time travelling and training. Or maybe it was another perk of Sehanine's grace. She didn't bother to think too much of it though. By the time they had made any progress on the papers, she was more worried about other matters.
"Aran, what do I do? What do you even wear to a wedding? A DWARVEN wedding! How in the gods name am I supposed to know what to wear to a DWARVEN WEDDING?" Bryn paced about nervously, not wanting to screw this up for her friend. Sure, they hadn't seen each other in ten years. But that didn't change what they had all gone through together, and it didn't change the fact that she considered Rockwell one of her closest companions. Same with everyone she had traveled with. Aran chuckled at her antics.
"Well, you could research it a little. The wedding isn't for another few months, Bryn. You have time. Plenty of time to figure out what you're going to wear, and what you're going to do. And I'll work on the scroll." Bryn whipped around faster than either of them thought was possible, and for a second she was worried about whiplash. But only a second.
"Oh no," she growled, sending a glare at the still chuckling Dragonborn. "If I have to suffer through this, so do you. How amusing do you find it now." An eyebrow ridge quirked up and she smirked in response. They spoke with their actions, and finally she won, earning a sigh from the older dragon. "I suggest you find something to wear too. Nice robes or something. The journey to Stonehaven from here is a good month if we're lucky, so that leaves us just a couple months to figure this out before we have to prepare and leave." Her friend just nodded, and as he stood to leave, hesitated. What Bryn often called "the look" passed over his face. It was that look he got when he wanted to say something but thought better of it. It was a look she had seen on others before too, but it would always be his look first, and Bryn was glad when he let it go and left the room. She sunk into a chair and sighed. It wouldn't be long before he asked about her adventures. He had probably heard stories from the townsfolk, but that wouldn't be enough. That much she knew. Aran was inquisitive, he loved asking questions and finding answers. It would only be a matter of time before he decided to ask her about her own past. And although she didn't mind telling him, Bryn didn't think she could handle reliving all of that right now. It would more likely break her than help her.

The two of them skirted around the issue for the remainder of their time together in Hartshire, and continued to do so during the journey to Stonehaven. The question of just when he would ask haunted Bryn for the next few months, and when he finally cornered her in a Stonehaven tavern, she had already resigned herself to her fate.

Just because I'm losing, doesn't mean I'm lost

It was hot out, that was the first thing she noticed. And not just the normal heat. After all, she was in the desert. Hot was normal.

It had been two years since she left her clan again, but Bryn was gone. She had traveled around a bit, undergoing her own form of "training" as she called it. There had been jokes about her recklessness leading to setting off traps in a very... unusual manner. But her skill was there. Now she just had to work on finding the traps, and learning more wouldn't hurt too much either. So that's exactly what she had started doing. She started in Southvale, making sure to stop and say hi to old friends before moving on. After that, a quick romp through elven territory nearby and off to the desert she went. The Greysand Oasis was where she currently resided, and it really earned its name. Maybe it was minerals in the water, or maybe some sort of magic was at play, but the sand was always ash grey. Not that Bryn bothered enough to actually look up why it was that way. She just went with it. Because that wasn't why she was here. No, she was here for the ruins. Just outside the oasis city is where the real fun was. Some of the ruins had been cleared long ago, little more than tourist attractions meant to draw in trade and commerce. A little further out is where the treasure was, and with it, traps. Lots and lots of traps.

She really should have payed more attention to where she was going though. Maybe researched a little into Dragonborn architecture, since they were the ruins of an ancient Dragonborn civilization. The part of her that missed her companions told her that Aran would have been a valuable asset, but she ignored it. Just like she ignored it when the gang had split up, and when she had left her family for a second time. She was good at that. But no, instead she was here, pinned to a wall, trying to figure out if the hallway in front of her would have blades or arrows. Her gut said blades, but only because she knew Leonidas liked them. For all she knew, they liked neither and acid would spew out at her when she tried to walk. Bryn shuddered at the thought and tried to find the trigger. Keyword: tried. Before she had a chance to actually do anything, some halfwit looking for treasure tried to walk down the path. She blocked him, giving him a sturdy glare. "There's a trap. So unless you want to be mince meat, you'll stay put for a second, sparky." The traveler (a human) just laughed at her and tried to continue on. Her eyes flashed once in irritation before she reigned it in. In the blink of an eye, her dagger was out and pinning his shirt to the limestone walls.
"Who do you think you are? I would like to go down here, and no matter how cute you are, pint-sized, you won't stop me." Again her eyes flashed. This guy was trying her nerves, and she had half a mind to let him just trigger the trap for her. It would certainly make life easier. But instead she held up a finger and threw one of her coins onto the trigger stone. Just as she had hoped, it was heavy enough, and arrows started shooting through holes in the walls. The human just watched, wide eyed as puffs of air disturbed his bangs. As the arrows died down, Bryn pried her dagger loose with a smirk.
"That's why I was stopping you. But if you'd like to continue, than please do. By all means, I'm no longer stopping you. But at least let me finish my work, alright?" She ignored his comments, her mind slipping into diagrams and tools. She knew the stone was the trigger, but she couldn't figure out quite how it would reload. There had to be at least another trigger, because the stone she had thrown her coin onto was still tripped. Finally her guest's words reached her.
"The off colored stones. But that doesn't stop the actual arrows." Her eyebrows shot up at his comment, and she could have smacked herself for not realizing it earlier. The off-color stones were the safe stones, something for someone who needed to get by but didn't want to fully disarm the trap. With careful precision and practiced ease, Bryn hopped from stone to stone until she reached the other end of the trap. Or at least, what she hoped was the other end of the trap. It had something for her to do, and that was enough.

The nice things about ruins was that they tended to be falling apart. This one was no exception. Large portions of the walls had holes, and she was staring into one now. Only, instead of more chambers like most of the holes had, this one was full of firing mechanisms for the arrows. "Why, hello there. Let's just have a look see," she murmured, and her hands went to work. A few minutes (and annoying shouts from her guest) later, the trap was done. She had managed to disarm it without setting it off. Well, without setting it off on accident (she wouldn't count the coin thing.) "It's safe. Keep the coin, maybe it'll bring you luck. You're gonna need it if you keep blundering forward like that." He looked less than impressed.
"I would have been fine, I'm sure. Besides, you look like you need it more. Not many halflings decide to wander through ruins on their lonesome. You sure you don't want a little company?" Bryn gave the human a once over, although she already knew her answer.
"Are you kidding? You were about to stumble into a trap, you're wearing leather, so you don't expect anything to go wrong. Either that, or you really can't get much else, because it's always better to be prepared. And you have no clue where you're going, because the treasure rooms aren't this way, but left at the last fork. I know, I looted them. So it seems like you need my help, not the other way around." A sneer managed to find its way onto her face as she spoke, and Bryn couldn't help but let it stay. She didn't let her eyes go haywire, but she was almost certain her body language spoke volumes about her feelings right now. "Now one of two things can happen: I can let you go now and we forget you ever stumbled across me, or you keep running that mouth of yours and I find a trap that hasn't been triggered or disarmed to shove you into. Because you're testing what little patience I have left. I have been in these damn ruins for the last two days for training, I have had next to no sleep, I want real food not rations, and I'm sick of all this damn sand," she ended, her words coming out more like snarls. She just wanted peace and quiet to do her thing, to look around and maybe find some cool stuff that she could actually use. He was having none of it though, opting instead to be offended by her words.
"Excuse me? I must have you know, even leather is extremely hot in this weather, and full armor would be worse. You're in leather and you seem to be just fine. And who says I'm looking for treasure. How can I even know you actually did what you said. Two days? For 'training'? I think you're full of Minotaur shit and just won't accept it. Who do you think you are, pretending to play the lone adventurer?" His words piled up on Bryn, and she could feel herself snap. It had been four days (two in the ruins and two for travel), she had been plagued with nightmares (which was currently normal) and thus had no sleep, the rations sucked and she wanted real food, sand was getting in her boots, and worst of all she had to deal with this asshole. Her eyes didn't glow with their normal vigor, instead casting an almost eerie, blood red light just in front of her face, illuminating what little bit was in shadow. Ire and some irrational rage seared through her, and before she quite had time to process it, her dagger was back out and pointed.
"Who do I think I am? You really want to ask that? I think I'm the one who's faced down countless creatures you've only seen in your nightmares. I think I'm the only one of us here who's looked death in the eye and lived to tell the tale. I think I'm the one who's been in this desert for a god's damned week prepping in the heat before I even touched these god's forsaken ruins. And I think that, of the two people here, I'm the one who has the map. You know, the one from the archives in the city? No, you wouldn't. Because no one goes to the damn archives. How do I know? Because if they had, they would have known I have the only copy of said map." She left out the part about stealing it, because the nice people in the building hadn't wanted to let her make a copy. That was better left unsaid. "So I think you'd best turn around and walk home, green stalk. Because I think you're out of your league." Before Bryn could do much else, her feet were walking away, through the hallway, past the (now disarmed) arrow trap, and to the next area.

It was a good hour before she calmed down even a little bit. Thankfully there weren't any living things she could take it out on. Well, unless reanimated skeletons could be counted as living, but she didn't count them. Finally she found what she had come there for (besides the traps, that is). In one of the far corners of the ruins there had been an archive, or a library of some sort. And even though she hadn't seen him since before her adventures, somehow Bryn knew that if she could get one of these books for Aran, he'd be grateful. Not that she cared. No, she just wanted to do something for an old friend. He had been on her mind a lot recently, and had their last encounter not ended... well, she just was hesitant to go back. Maybe she'd leave it on his doorstep with a note. And maybe the gods would take pity on her and the earth would swallow her whole before that actually happened. Either way, she found a room that seemed to be mostly intact, and they appeared to be the right area according to the map. Quickly taking whatever was still intact after all these years, Bryn set up the instant camp and called it a night.

For the first time in two years, Bryn didn't see the faces of her family in her dreams, wasn't haunted by the derisive laughter of fate, couldn't feel the pitying stares of her former friends and companions. Instead she slept more soundly than she had in a very long time.

He's got inside my head, got hold of my hand

"Is everything alright?" Bryn blinked and the forest was gone, replaced by dwarves drinking their ale and a worried dragonborn to her left. Well, she knew he looked worried at least. She had long gotten used to his eyebrow ridge things.
"Yeah. Sorry, I lost myself for a moment there." She almost decided to drop it, to not continue the story any further. Aran was looking at her like she would break, and it was starting to annoy her. Not that she would let him know that. "Look, it was nothing, alright. I met up with my family, hung with them for a bit, and left because I wanted to go see more. Nothing big." The look persisted, although it wasn't as strong. That was good at least. She put on a lax smile and tried to convince him. "Really. I'm just being silly and remembering all the good times I had during those five years. It's nothing to worry about, alright?" That seemed to put him at ease.
"If you say so, Bryn. But if there's anything you need," he started, trailing off with another pointed look. The second half was unspoken between them, as it had been when he found her in the woods all those years ago. As it had been when she had managed to find him again.
"I know. Anyway, where was I?"
"Travelling around, something about a desert."
"Oh right! So there I was..."

Please don't forget me. I'm going away.

She left soon after. Killian was waiting for her a little way into the forest. They stared at each other for a minute, neither one wanting to break the silence. Finally, he offered a small smile and a shake of his head.
"Vee will be mad." A nod. "The camp will be disappointed." Another slight nod. "I want you to take this." Bryn was going to nod, but the words sunk in and she just gave her brother a look. "Don't give me that look, Bryn. I want you to have this. And these actually." Her eyes went wide as Killian started taking off his gloves, and had she been in the speaking mood, she would have refused. He just chuckled as he handed them to her. "I know, my favorite set. Take good care of them. I swear, if you lose them, I'm forcing you to make new ones. And here." She almost didn't catch the bright red sticks, although she would have sworn it was because she was still shocked over the gloves. "It doesn't run out, but there are a couple sticks just in case. Don't tell the others, but I've been using them to mark paths through here. It's how I've been able to get us back to camp." Both of them smiled, although with utterly different emotions. One smile was soft, understanding. The other sorrow tinged and slightly apologetic. "There's more in this. Handy items for camp sites and such." He handed over a bundle, and Bryn couldn't help but wonder if he had known she would leave this early all along. "I figured your time here was coming to an end. You never were good at staying in one place, little bird." She scowled as he ruffled her hair one last time, and whispered a quick word of thanks before bolting past him.

Taking the ring of Avandra tied around her neck and bringing it to her lips, Bryn whispered a prayer asking for guidance. There had to be someplace for her to go, even if the way wasn't clear to her now. With that in mind, she started walking.

I used to hear it all so loud, the sound of my heart breaking

The decision to leave Stonehaven was easy. There wasn't anything there for her anymore. She wouldn't go back to stealing from innocent people, and although nobles were usually far from innocent in her eyes, Rockwell wouldn't have been pleased. Besides, dwarves were no fun to steal from. They all had the same traps. Maybe if she could find some elves... But that was beside the point. There was also the fact that the local guard knew her well enough by now that it wasn't really a good idea to stay. And, for all the flack her former companions had given her, she wasn't stupid. Far from it. Sure, she was reckless, and tended to set off more traps than she disarmed, but that was fine by her. Both ways got the job done: no one else got harmed. So it wasn't all that stupid really.

The darkness funneling into the tunnels from outside made it clear what time it was, and Bryn could have laughed. Something about this whole thing reminded her of when she had first left her family. That ring, the one with Avandra's symbol etched onto it, was now around her neck, a piece of leather keeping it in place. The feather was also still on her, wrapped into the handle of her bow. A lot of the trinkets that she had taken managed to stay with her, now that she thought about it. As much as she liked to leave the past there, she also was more sentimental than she really gave herself credit for. With a quick whispered prayer to both Avandra and Sehanine, Bryn started walking into to the night.

She found River's End first. A couple months there got her a pretty penny and more than a few pretty ladies to help her out. Once again Bryn found herself settled in the shit poor part of town. Something about the atmosphere there drew her in. It wasn't that she had no money, quite the opposite. But to see people drinking heavily, laughing and gambling what little they had made... it was intoxicating. People being happy and dirt poor were more fun to be around than stuffy nobles with all their money and angst anyway. Not that common folk and beggars were free from it, but somehow they seemed to let loose more often. At least they did here. For the first time since leaving Stonehaven, Bryn found herself settling into her casual smirks and carefree laughter once again. It seemed like she hadn't freely laughed in far too long, since at least the incident with the drow.

From there it hadn't been too hard to find her old clan. They moved around a lot, but spring time was ideal for selling things in port cities, so they usually drifted there. It was almost surreal to Bryn, how easily she shifted back into nomad mode after so many years in survival mode.The two were connected, sure, but she hadn't really been a nomad in years. Not that it mattered much now. She held her head up high as she entered the temporary camp.

It was different. Normally they had places to stay for the shifting seasons. Spring was normally spent closer to Evermeet, since it was large and tended to have better trade offers than River's End ever did. Plus, they had a permanent fort of sorts there, a place that provided better shelter than the tents that the clan (her clan, she mentally corrected) were currently living in could ever offer. This wasn't normal, and that set Bryn on edge. Still not quite in control, her eyes glowed a faint grey in the low light of the morning. The situation wasn't lost on her in the slightest. How odd, that she had left in the shadow of the night, and now, all these years later, she returned with the first rays of light the sun had to offer. Life certainly had it's ways, and she murmured thanks to Pelor and a quick prayer that her companions (Stalar) were well. No alarms were ringing, and the dead silence was ringing in her ears. She was almost hyper sensitive to noise now, listening for anything at all that would placate her fears. Because even if she hadn't been back to visit, they were still her brothers and sisters, her friends. People she had grown up with. People who threw you out. The thought ran through her head, echoed where there was silence. The sound of arrows being drawn, of leather on leather, brought a sigh of relief to her. Even though she knew that arrows were being aimed at her from almost every direction, this was the clan she knew and had left behind. "It's alright! It's just me guys. Or do you hold grudges that long?" She tried to keep the shake in her voice from showing. It wouldn't due to have them know she was worried. She'd never hear the end of it.

A voice from directly behind her almost caused Bryn to turn on her heels and launch into a hug.
"It's her alright. I'm surprised we didn't smell her a mile off." Instead Bryn just laughed, a quiet but throaty chuckle.
"I love you too Vee." And with that, she did turn around and wrap the older halfling in a hug. Vivian was slightly taller than Bryn was (even if she would never admit it), and as they pulled away from each other, she rested an elbow on the top of Bryn's head, putting a scowl on her face. It was all in good fun though. Her sister turned and made some motions, ones that looked familiar but she couldn't place their meaning.
"So, what a pleasant turn of events! What brings you back to us, Bryn?" Vivian's face held a smile, but Bryn couldn't help but feel like it was off somehow. She hadn't been around her family in a while though, so she just shrugged it off. Not seeing someone for over ten years meant she couldn't judge, could no longer read her sister's face with the startling accuracy that she used to.
"Just in the neighbor hood, and I remembered you guys used to camp around here. Why aren't you using the forts?" A dark shadow passed over Vivian's face, and it surprised the young halfling. Her sister had always been so vocal about not being sad, about how happiness could be found in everything. Sure, Bryn always tried to be cheerful and vivacious, but only because her sister had been first. Just like she learned all her physical skills from her older brother. Sensing that a change of topic was in order, she went to that instead. "Where is Killian? He should have been easy to spot, given how tall he is!" That did the trick. The light returned to her sister's eyes and she giggled.
"He's out hunting today. He's gotten even taller, can you believe it?" A look of false shock was all it took to set both the sisters off in a new round of giggles. Killian was always tall, surprisngly so for a halfling. He was easily four inches taller than their father had been, and that was already quite tall for someone like them. But despite rumors that he wasn't really a halfling, they loved him all the same. He was their older brother, and nothing would change that. Besides, he still had all the skills of a halfling. If it growls like a bear, leaves prints like a bear, and has a coat like a bear, just call it a damn bear. Bryn said as much to her sister, and was pleased to hear a snort in response. "Always the same. Ten years couldn't mellow you out. Let's hope Avandra decided ten years was long enough. Don't want them running you out before the fun starts tonight." At this, Bryn just looked confused. There weren't any holidays coming up, and none of the harvest celebrations were planned. So that only left one thing, something that scared her quite a bit. Her wide eyes seemed to send the wrong message, though. "Yup, we're gonna have a feast to celebrate your return!"

After a long discussion about why that was a bad idea, Bryn resigned. Her sister could be just as stubborn as she was, and Bryn was quite sure that it ran in all of her family. Long-arrow. The name she never got to take. Her sister wondered what name she had picked as a replacement, and found it funny that she took Swift-runner. "You were always first when we held races. I bet that helped you more than once, what with the trouble you've been in?" Bryn just nodded, her eyes just as wide as they had been for the announcement. "Look, how about this. Try it out. See how tonight goes and if it goes well, travel with us again. It'd be nice to have you back, honestly. We miss having the trio. Three's a lucky number for us, and with two, half our schemes didn't work." Bryn thought it over, and just shook her head.
"You're schemes didn't work because you couldn't pull them off without me? Lies. It was because mom and dad were the leaders and let you get away with stuff." Now it was Vivian's turn to feign surprise.
"No such thing! But please? Consider it?" A nod was all it took to set her sister into another round of hugs.

The feast went well, and Bryn would never admit it, but she missed the feeling of family. Of people like her laughing and joking around about the past. Sure, she had felt left out for a few minutes as they told stories that she couldn't relate to. That she would never be able to relate to. But then they had listened to her stories, her grand exaggerations of what had happened with the Beholder, of meeting minotaurs. Of taking on the whole Vorn estate and burning it to the ground. (Obviously she left out any deaths and stretched a few details, but who would notice?) And they had all been more than happy when she announced she'd return for a bit, but that she knew she would have to leave eventually. One of the elders, whose name escaped her now, but she had known it once years ago, said she had a habit of that and habits don't die easy. It rang in her ears and sunk into her head. It wrote itself out behind her closed eyes that night as she tried to sleep, and she could feel it in the sun's dying rays and the moon's normally comforting shine. It hadn't been said in ire or spite. It had been stated like a fact, and had sounded like a word of caution.

Four years passed, and oh how they flew. Bryn felt like a new person. Laughter came easily, and although she never did learn everything that had happened in her time away, she figured it would come in due time. Apparently things had changed more than she had thought. Things like the fact that they no longer traveled as far north, opting to stay to the other directions. Or that they no longer used the forts, but tent cities that would shift a little each day. And the night watches were certainly new, only used before when they were traveling through hostile territory. But every time she tried to casually mention it, something would happen and Bryn would lose focus. Or let it drop. Vivian never reacted well to questions about those things, and it honestly scared her a little how different her sister was like that. So she went to Killian instead. Because after four years, she was going to get some answers. They couldn't keep her out of whatever loop was there for much longer.

"Killian, can we talk?" The two of them were out hunting, although they already had more than enough food for the whole camp between them and the others. He nodded was waved off the others, sending them back to camp.
"What did ya want to say?" He was studying her face, she could tell. Where as their sister was the playful one of the bunch (or so she had thought), Killian had always been studious and serious. That wasn't to say that he had no sense of humor, because that much ran in the family. But he always knew when to just sit down and say things. Bryn couldn't help but wonder if her bluntness came from him, because no one else in their family was quite like that. They liked their barbed jokes, their mean-spirited jabs, but rarely came out and said what was on their mind.
"Why all the changes? Why the night patrols and tents? And where are mother and father?" She saw the slight shake of his head. "Killian, what happened to them? I know Vivian said they left at one point, but -"
"They didn't leave, little bird," he said, cutting her off. A large hand rested on her head, and she pouted a little at the gesture and old nickname. It had been a sign of affection then, but now it only brought back thoughts of leaving, of 'flying away' so to speak. She was so caught up in that, though, his words didn't sink in until he continued. "They were killed. Vivian just can't accept that. You know how she is. They're immortal to her. Always have been, always will be." A sad smile made its way onto his face, and Bryn felt for a seat. This was news to her. After years of thinking up apologies, of wanting to see them, of needing to say a few last words... The air was thick with silence, and Bryn lost track of how long they sat like that. Finally she regained the courage to speak.
"When? How?"
"Five ago. Maybe a little longer." She felt her heart shatter at his words. While she had been going on grand adventures, killing beasts and playing the "honorable thief" in Stonehaven, her parents were killed and the clan was left without a leader. And as she listened to her brother's story of how they had been up in the north, how her parents had been in a hunting party and had come across a group of people, elves mostly. They had traded, but something had gone wrong, and only three of the original six man party made it back to the forts. Packing up had caused them precious time, and they lost a lot of the elders that she remembered from her childhood. Some made it out, but they all watched their backs now, and a lot of them wasted away without their friends and family there. Bryn couldn't imagine why someone would kill others on sight, but images of Burningwood and the drow flashed through her mind at the thought. She doubted it was them, but if there were others like them... it didn't bode well. But that was far in the back of her mind, so far away from her current thoughts that it was more like something from a dream she had once had.

Somewhere in the middle of Killian's story, night's dark hues fell upon them. And dark it was. She didn't, couldn't see any of Sehanine's radiance (goodness, she was sounding like Stalar now), and a quick glance to the sky confirmed that the moon wasn't there. She heard her brother say something, but it didn't register. A shake of her head, and he was on his way back to camp. And so Bryn sat, a stump for her throne as she processed everything that had been told to her. She looked to the sky once again, considering cursing, but she didn't. It wouldn't have been right, because there was nothing that could have been done. She knew this, she knew that the gods couldn't interfere even if they wanted to. But something about the empty slot in the sky where there was normally some sort of light made her feel hollow inside. Maybe it was the fact that it seemed darker than it had been ever before, or maybe it was the senseless deaths of her friends, her clan-mates, her parents. And for the first time she could ever remember, Bryn cried.

Is it still me that makes you sweat? Am I who you think about in bed?

The last thing Bryn expected to see after the thing they had killed in the study was a drow. Much less a drow child. Which was funny, since she knew the mansion was owned by drow, and they had seen drow both before and during the actual fight. Maybe it was the fact that this drow was... different, for lack of a better word. She seemed to want to help, if only for purely selfish reasons. Zel'marle. That was her name. It was pretty. Bryn found herself at a loss for words, opting instead to let the others do the negotiations for a bit. Well... The others minus Leonidas and Quilie. Because one would be an ass and the other would eat everything anyway.

But no, they couldn't let her have this one bit of silence. She always managed to get drug into these things. So when Zel'marle beckoned her onto the bed, Bryn thought little of it. But when her fingers started moving, weaving through her hair, the halfling's blood turned to ice. Those touches felt too familiar, too close for comfort. Not that she did anything. No, because as much as it was frightening her, it was doing... other things. Bryn couldn't quite tell where the sheer terror stopped and the pleasure began, because they seemed to like mixing together to form one weird emotion.

There are few things in this world that Bryn would admit to. One was dozing off, which she apparently had done because the conversation was nearing it's end and all she could really do was nod and try to focus on something other than Zal'marle's fingers. Which happened to be the other thing she wouldn't admit to. Enjoying this, whatever this currently was. Because no matter what it was, it would end as soon as they left that room and she regained control of her senses. Or that's what she thought before the kiss. Her only thoughts then were promptly shoved to the back of her mind and locked away, leaving her mind blank but pleasantly hazy. And with just enough sense to make rude gestures at Leonidas when he decided to add his (much unneeded) two copper. Bryn made sure later to remind him of the drow's stance on men, and how easily she could be persuaded if he continued being an ass.

So why was it still bugging her that she was the one Zal'marle decided to toy around with, even now as they traversed the sewers?

So, here we are again. It's always such a pleasure.

"Let me go back! Let me kill him!" Bryn struggled against the magical restraints Emire used, and she found herself cursing magic casters once again. "I swear, if he so much as looks at Stalar the wrong way, so help me Kord I will smite him. There won't be a single ash left of what once was Burningwood, and the bitch he's got with him can go too." Never mind that the bitch was someone that they had struck a deal with before. Among other things, things that brought the blood rushing to Bryn's face for a multitude of reasons. The silver light emitting from her eyes didn't help matters much. While she'd normally find the effect calming or even funny, right now it was only serving to remind her of the cleric who still hadn't come through the portal. It was only when the man stepped through and the portal shut that she finally calmed down, her labored breaths showing just how hard she had been struggling. "Did he do anything? I swear to all the gods that if anything happened, I will impale him with rusty spoons and get Emire here to heat them up slowly." The tone of her voice left little room for others to think she was joking. It was the only form of torture she could think of that would be fitting for Burningwood. As Stalar tried to talk her out of it (and he did manage to convince her to at least hold off), her thoughts began to turn to what would happen next. When silence settled over them, she even voiced as much. "Well... now what?" Her voice cracked a little as she asked. Bryn hadn't ever had to deal with people leaving. That was normally her job.

They had all separated after that. Well, sorta. Bryn stayed in Stonehaven for a bit, keeping her profile as low as possible. She wasn't quite ready to venture out, and as much as she'd love to have stayed with one of her companions (any of them really), she didn't want to be a burden either. So instead she spent her nights in her favorite low-town tavern with all the scum and drunkards that reminded her of home before the adventure. Or at least reminded her of where she had been, but she couldn't really call that home. Not that it mattered. As she slipped into her normal stool at the bar, she slammed a coin down onto the rough wood. "Whatever this'll get me." The bartender raised an eyebrow, and the unspoken question was easy for her to see in his face. Rough night? A slight dip of her head answered him. The roughest. On the plus side, most of the really bad folk that liked to stalk around the dark areas of the city were all gone or dead. Mostly dead, but Bryn swore that wasn't her fault. Not all of them at least. Her silver eyes hadn't really helped matters. She had taken to covering her whole face, trying to find some sort of cloth she could see through, but even then they could tell. How did Stalar do it? Not make himself stand out like a beacon every time he felt any surge of emotion? Even though she couldn't quite control it yet (although she was getting better. A year of practice would do that), she had discovered some of the nuances of it. Like how when she was happy, the light was more silver, like the moon on a clear night. Or when she was mad, it was more storm grey, and sometimes she could swear she saw hints of orange or red, the same colors that painted the moon's surface during the Harvest Moon. That sorrow held tinges of the dark blue sky interwoven with milky white. It was really amazing how many different lights there really were, yet how they all came from one source. A source that was currently making it hard for her to continue on with her "leave no witnesses" policy since she didn't have the group to back her up.

When Stonehaven's guard burst into her room at the tavern, all they found was a note held down silver coin on the bed, the half-moon etched into it with loving detail. It was her tell, the one thing she always left behind. The note was unimportant, telling what they already knew. Bryn Swift-runner was no longer in Stonehaven.

They say breezes are warm there & people are kind. Maybe it's something like Heaven

There was a slight breeze, the smell of the earth after rain laced with something else. Bryn couldn't place it, nor did she really want to. Her wouldn't open, and she didn't particularly care. For the first time she could remember, she was at peace. Completely and utterly at peace. No one was hounding her to be better, or attacking her. There were no shouted orders or pitying looks. Just silence and peace. It was nice, and she enjoyed it while she could. Because if there was anything Bryn had learned in her time with the group, it was that peace never lasted. Sure enough, she could feel the presence of someone else closing in. As it approached, Bryn felt herself regain movement and she opened her eyes for the first time. It was awe-inspiring, and not in the terrifying way Lloth had been. To say it was beautiful would be lowering it to worldly standards. There were no words for it, at least not in common. And was just describing the place.

Never in a million years would Bryn have thought she'd see a goddess. If someone had come up to her and say she'd see two in one day, she'd have laughed in their faces and called them crazy. But she had, and where Lloth had filled her with terror, Sehanine was different. Instead of fear induced images of her vision, Bryn felt more at peace, if such a thing was possible. Her form was hidden behind shadows, and even then Bryn somehow knew that this was the ideal, the penultimate example of beauty. Soft words were spoken and though the halfling couldn't understand the language, the meaning rang true in her head. What would you do? Do you wish to stay?
She did, oh how she did. But she couldn't, and she knew that. Images of her family sprang to mind. Of Aran. As much as she wanted to stay, not seeing them one last time would haunt her. Besides, her companions, her makeshift family still needed her.

A single tear hit Bryn's face, and it was then that she knew the right choice had been made. The vision Ioun had sent her no longer frightened her, Blackness ebbed into her sight, but unlike the way she had arrived there, which had been full of pain and suffering, an unadulterated sense of joy filled her. Before long, it was gone, leaving her back in the world of the living, feeling slightly hollow but otherwise no worse for wear. She was unaware of the changes that had been made (although her friends would inform her later), only that she felt different. She brushed herself off as she stood, ready for attempt two. "Oh no you didn't. I'm like a plauge, I don't go away that easily."

A casual smirk graced her face even as she stared Lloth straight in the eye for a second time. "Miss me?"

Your boldness stands alone among the wreck

The pure heat eminating from the obsidian relic in front of her caused Bryn to hesitate. There wasn't much she could do though. Her legs wouldn't obey her, her feet glued to the floor. Stupid spell casters, she thought. Her companions voices brought her out of her head though. "Pick it up!" And with an anguished yell, she did exactly that.

It burned. Oh, how it burned. The symbol of Erathus on her right had was throbbing in pain, and between that and the dagger it was almost unbearable. Finally the sensation went away, leaving the young halfling gasping for breath. "Next time the cleric gets burned. Why is it always me?" She growled, although it bordered whining. Thankfully her companions used their time wisely, because the drow bitch was killed soon after. Finding whatever spell had been cast was undone, she moved to rejoin her friends. But peace wasn't coming, not yet. The pool (or what was left of it) started glowing beneath her, and she only just managed to escape as long spindly legs emerged. Spider's legs. The blood rushed out of her face, and her stomach did nauseating loops inside her. Her mind supplied images of her vision, and something inside her pulsed with a frightening energy. Bryn took an instinctive step back as she appeared. The temptress and deceiver herself. Lloth. In aspect form, to be sure, but still there. With little more than a second glance at any of them, the group found themselves trapped. Spiders everywhere, crawling into and out of ever opening, every pore. But not Bryn. No, the halfling say in silence for a bit, awestruck and more than a little terrified at the goddess demanding the very relic she now held. At first she refused. The sentiment she wanted to use was "over my dead body" but Bryn was certain that it would be arranged if she said the words. That's when an idea struck.
"You want the dagger? This ol' thing?" She smirked, a facade that the goddess of lies was sure to pierce through. Not that it mattered. "You won't hurt my friends." The slightest of nods was all it took. Bryn knew the look on Lloth's face. Sure, she hadn't eve dealt with a goddess before, but she knew the type from her days in the cities. The want, the need. The hunger for riches, or in this case, for power. That much was universal. So when the simplest of pricks drew blood from the goddess-turned-mortal, Bryn knew she had done right. Her friends wouldn't be harmed, because technically Lloth had received the dagger.

Too bad Bryn hadn't really thought of including herself in that statement.

Weep for yourself, you'll never be what is in your heart

Bryn sat in the bar, nursing her ale. It was supposed to be a happy time, what with Rockwell getting married. She was excited, happy that he had found someone. Hell, he had gotten a whole kingdom out of it. But ten years was a long time. A scowl appeared at the thought. She knew Burningwood was patient. He would be more than willing to wait a measly ten years for some grand scheme. Sure, they had set back the original plan centuries, but that didn't change much. Every good leader had a plan B. Even she had a plan B, and the halfling was anything but a good leader. Her thoughts turned to her companions. Stalar, the makeshift leader (or at least she thought so) and radiant cleric. Rockwell, their unyielding fighter. Leonidas, who had been a good companion and friend to her, even if he could be annoying at times. Emire, the lethal spellcaster of stone (no, he was literally made of stone! How cool was that?). And Quiliy, who seemed to always be in her thoughts. And it wasn't because of fond memories. No, it was because his "kids" (spawn? Younglings?) kept coming up to her and licking her face. She was certain he had something to do with that. The thought was almost enough to make her crack a smile. But only almost. The unease in the pit of her stomach kept her from truly enjoying the moment. Soft laughter broke through her thoughts, and she turned to her new company.
"You look like you've just eaten bitter-root. What's weighing on you?" The familiar hiss of draconic was a comfort to her, as was the speaker's identity.
"It's nothing, Aran. Really. I just find myself in a pensive mood for once." The remark drew a small smile from the older dragonborn.
"Yes, that is odd. You're tend to be a loud drunk, Bryn." They sat in comfortable silence for a while, each taking tentative sips of the drinks in front of them. Suddenly, Aran turned to Bryn, his copper scales turning appearing dark red in the low light of the tavern. "You never did tell me what you've been up to for all this time, little monkey. I've heard of your grand adventures from others, but what do you have to say?" Bryn debated telling him everything, starting from her departure from the apothecary.

She stared into the amber drink as she started retelling her story, catching him up on all that had been happening these last ten years.

Thank your lucky star you've gotten this far

They peered down a whole, and Bryn wondered why no one just did anything. They were sitting there, staring, like that would solve something. Sure, she knew that planning was important, that it could make a huge difference. She also knew that whatever was happening would happen fast and they needed to stop it. Her gaze fell onto something familiar, and she swore under her breath in draconic. She used that almost more than she used her common. One of these days she would look into that, but not now. A circle of runes, fire (the symbol of Erathis on her hand itched at the sight), drow guarding the room. This would be challenging. With an almost feral smile, Bryn readied her bow. Challenges were fine when they were expected. Those things in the sewers were one thing. Monsters happened. But stopping the resurrection of an ancient god? This would be fun.

Quily was the first of them to move. Bryn swore he moved faster than any creature she had seen. Gods, he moved faster than she did, which was a feat. Bryn liked to think she moved fast. to her side, a newer companion caught her eye and she nodded. The two of them made their way down. She wasn't sure how he did it, but Bryn smiled as she flipped and rolled down. A little voice in the back of her head muttered "show off" but she ignored it. At least she got down safely. Now for the hard part.

The drow guarding the room all moved at once, surrounding her and her companions. Well, the two others who had made it down. As much as they'd love to wait for the meat shields (as Bryn often thought of Leonidas), they just didn't have time. With a sigh, she sidestepped a blade and shot an arrow in response. One down, one to go. 'Scratch that, none to go' she thought as Quily ripped through the other. Not that it mattered. The runes weren't gonna let anyone in, as she soon found out. The hard way. A groan escaped her as she flew back. "Not getting out that way." Suddenly it dawned on her. The fire. There were no runes where the fire was. Obviously they weren't expected to go in that way.

Obviously they weren't going that way. She watched Quily attempt to fight his way through, watched her arrow burn up as though it were made of actual wood. On the other side of the circle, she saw her other companion locked in combat with something. The other two still weren't here, and Bryn knew that Stalar, Rockwell, and Amir had all needed rest and had opted to stay and make camp. Her spirits fell as she realized they had no way to break through the fire. They weren't going to make it. The dagger's weight in her cloak mocked her, and she almost threw it away from her in despair. Her cloak... Her cloak! She had almost forgotten about her cloak, something she had been wearing for most of the journey. Something she hadn't really thought much of. Something that had saved her ass before, and would do the same now.With a whoop and a laugh she charged through the pillar of fire. It was hot, but not unbearably so. No, the heat from the fire didn't get to her. It was the cold energy of death that made her almost fall shivering on the other side. It wasn't normal, this feeling. She had brushed with death many times, and each one was unpleasant, but this wasn't the same.

The water at her feet brought her back to reality. She almost prepped and arrow, almost readied herself to toss the die. It had been known to knock people down, and that should have been enough to stop the ritual. But suddenly Stalar's voice filled her mind. In his soft tones, he reminded her of the dagger she had almost thrown away, of what exactly was at stake. That was really the only reasons she remembered to throw it down with all her might at the thing emerging from the pool.

Success felt nice. She watched as chaos happened. A serene smile stretch across her face as the magic in the ritual caused quite the backlash. It morphed into a full blown grin that stayed in place even as the priestess (Almath, she remembered) started talking. She had done it. Bryn had finally done something right.

See who we can be if we press Fast Forward

Where did it all go wrong? With a muttered apology, Bryn let an arrow fly. It hit her companion, and she cringed as light tore through heir swamp druid friend. Sure, Quily and her weren't exactly best buddies, but it hurt her to hurt him. It was too familiar, hit too close to home for it to sit okay with her. Images of Perun flashed before her, images of Kalen Vorn's laughter taunting her mercilessly. Even in her dreams she heard it, the slow, mocking chuckles, and it enraged her. She would not let another incident like that happen, she had sworn that much. Except she had, and it was. An unholy rage filled her, burned through her veins and clouded her vision with a fine red mist. Before she could properly react, however, Bryn caught sight of a mighty war hammer finishing the job. Her job. Her whispered words fell onto deaf ears: "damn dwarf." The draconic fell easily from her lips, just as familiar with her now as it had been when she learned it from him.


It wasn't until Stalar made his way into the room (much later than the others) that her vision cleared and the world lost its red tint.