The End of the Road to Jadda

A portion of the log of the trip to Jadda.

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The End of the Road to Jadda

Summary:	A portion of the log of the trip to Jadda.
OOC Date:	11/18/2013
Related:	Will be added

Players:

Nearing the Capital of Jadda

Even here in the jungle the smell of cooking fires mixes with the scents of a primitive forge. Children not being tended by their parents trail behind the wagon peering at it curiously. All around there are small carvings of something called a hummingbird on many of the smaller stone buildings. A fountain can be seen between clusters of buildings. As they move deeper through the city and the jungle in this area there are people staring at them. The woman are scantily clad and their ebony hair is decorated with beads, feathers and sometimes gold. Some of the woman's chests are bare and others wearing collars or who have been what looks like ritually scarred are naked. Men dressed in in loin cloths or skirts. Others are naked like the women. They are all staring and watching.

TBD

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Arriving at Jadda

They are at the end of the road, the sun is fading in the horizon as they slowly inch their way towards the temple and fortification of the great god king. The air still humid and thick with mosquitos that buzz and bite at any portion of human skin they can find. The fortification is a tall structure that towers above the canopy of trees. Each stone is carved with fantastic runes and scene depicting strange creatures, armies and death scenes. The air smells sweet and is heavy with heat. When they get closer there are smaller homes to be found and those that reside here come out to gawk and stare at the pasty sickly strangers that have come to here. Many turn their faces away and others grab at amulets as it ward off the fever sickness. (re)

Kieryn rides along on his hotse, still looking rather sick, even though he had been a little better some days ago. He sighs and glances around as they arrive at their destination? at least he thinks that it is and sighs. "so we're finally here?" he asks.

It had been a rather long journey mixed with sickness, dreams, fear, loss. At the moment, Nima is outside the carriage, riding along with one of the Priestesses, since her own horse had been food for the cat. Her brother Altair and her handmaid Syri are nearby as well. As they approach their destination, she looks encouraged and pleased, glancing over at Kieryn with a bright smile. "It seems so, Sir Kieryn."

It's been quite the trip, through vast and bizarre jungle, and the Ranger Victoria has managed to make it through relatively unscathed, a few recently acquired wounds from the land evident on her cheeks and forearms. Riding atop a horse with a hawk upon her shoulder the woman is not far behind the group now that they've come to a stop, wrapped in her cloak, face hidden beneath deep hood and wrappings of scarf, tanned arms covered with gauntlets, her bow strapped to her back, quiver just behind her right thigh on the horses saddle. Seeing the group finally over the crest of a hill and in paces of civilization, the Huntress will send her hawk off with a whistle, Nelan (Hawk) launching up into the air as his hood is taken off, the bird of prey flying back to give signal to Venan that they've found the group.

Eldan is actually sitting up in the carriage, currently listening to Elly prattle on about every important detail he missed while he was so sick. The man isn't well, but he's better which is an improvement from previous days. Of course important details to Elly could mean the card game her Uncle Kieryn played with her, which earns a look from Eldan to his brother about the idea of teaching his daughter poker, to the pretty dresses Nima's handmaiden let her look at while Nima and Eldan were both sleeping, to Nima showing her how best to polish her tiara, to riding around for a time on Cai's massive shoulders… at least that way Cai could keep track of his youngest charge. Eldan seems interested in every last bit of it, at least from all appearances anyway. Having Eldan feeling a bit better also seems to have loosened some of the tension in Cai's massive frame, though he is likely not going to relax until he can get his main charge to proper medical attention and a proper bed.

Using a borrowed horse, and hanging on as best he can, given that he's not fully recovered from the illness, Altair is looking around rather carefully for the moment. Some days have been better than others, and this seems to be one of the good days, although he still feels like he could sleep for a month or something, if given the chance. There's a brief smile as he hears Kieryn's question, or more importantly Nima's answer. "About time…" he mutters, a bit quietly.

Venan pushes his wide-brimmed hat back and looks upward at the sound of the whistle. Spotting the hawk he clucks his tongue and taps his mule with the switch he carries. To the mule's credit it does move faster for a few steps before falling back into the slow ground eating plod that has carried it and the other three mules this far. Venan takes hold of the bowl of his pipe and points with the stem, "Good girl, you just get us there and leave the dashin about to them what traded their patience for prettiness." He chuckles, "Aw, now ya know i don't mean that, you're plenty pretty…such a fine ass." He sets the stem back between his teeth and puffs up a fine cloud of smoke as he settles in for the last bit of catching up.

Kieryn didn't teach Elly how to play poker, he played a game with her called "fish" he wouldn't teach his niece to gamble, would he? Nah, he wouldn't. He then wonders when he became a sir and smiles to Nima when he sees her bright smile, he drops back some and rides beside her, "It is good to finally get to where we were going. I wonder if that means we will start to feel better soon, now that we won't be traveling out in the weather and such." not that he's not used to sleeping out in weather, he is a sailor after all.

Even here in the jungle the smell of cooking fires mixes with the scents of a primitive forge. Children not being tended by their parents trail behind the wagon peering at it curiously. All around there are small carvings of something called a hummingbird on many of the smaller stone buildings. A fountain can be seen between clusters of buildings. As they move deeper through the city and the jungle in this area there are people staring at them. The woman are scantily clad and their ebony hair is decorated with beads, feathers and sometimes gold. Some of the woman's chests are bare and others wearing collars or who have been what looks like ritually scarred are naked. Men dressed in in loin cloths or skirts. Others are naked like the women. They are all staring and watching.

Sitting straight, Nima looks towards the area where they are intending to go before her gaze lands on Kieryn again. "Hopefully everyone can rest and get healed before the journey back." Hearing Elly's voice echoing, a warm smile plays over her lips. "She is such a bright and lovely little girl. I adore her." There is a glance to her brother as well. "How are you feeling, Altair?"

Venan hums to himself around his pipe stem as he works a bag of treats loose from his pack. "A man could get used to this sort of view…" he muses as the mules strive diligently to catch up to the coach whose trail they've been following for days. He pushes his hat back again and gives a short sharp whistle through the gap in his teeth. He gestures towards one of the men, then holds out his palm showing the treats. He picks one of the two up and pops it into his mouth, then gestures with the other towards the man. As the mules haven't slowed there's not a lot of time for decision making. The treat is a small piece of licorice soaked in honey to soften then covered in powdered sugar.

As people wearing very little come into view Eldan slaps a hand over his daughter's eyes, causing her to complain, "Papa, I can't see nufin! Come on Papa! I wanna see!" If there was any need for stealth it has just been destroyed by a 4 and a half year old. Eldan isn't going to let go despite his squirming and protesting daughter. If he needed stealth he'd just slap a hand over her mouth.

"Feeling like I wish I could sleep for a month or something… But I will survive," Altair replies to his sister, offering her a brief smile, before he looks around at the people present, and their fashion, or lack thereof. "That is…" he begins, going silent again now.

Victoria waits on Venan, watching over her shoulder as Nelan comes winging back in with a chirp at her, winging back down onto her padded shoulder, a nuzzle given to the woman's cheek. Only when she sees the fellow come along with his asses does she turn to take in the town, nonplussed by the nudity and the attire of the folk there; she herself is quite used to such things and a steadfaster supporter of such. Dismounting from her mount Victoria will grab the reigns, pressing a soothing hand to the mounts muzzle as she walks him in further to the group that just arrived, "Ranger Victoria Skyhawk here on behest of Count Forrester to provide aide to the King and his traveling group." Greeted quickly and firmly, the woman's whiskied voice carrying easily, her gaze soon shiftin to the natives staring at them.

Kieryn nods to Nima and smiles again, "Yeah, I hope we get better before then too that way we aren't so miserable." he then catches sight of the naked and half naked women, though he doesn't seem to be too phased by it, "You know, some women do that when out at sea and away from land. I guess some things are the same everywhere, aren't they?" he grins and then whistles softly in appreciation, though not loud enough to be heard by the women.

Venan gives a little wave to Victoria when she looks back to him, but there isn't much to be done about the pace of the mules so he just puffs on his pipe and offers the treats to those who are brave enough to accept them. As the crowd thickens he catches up to the King's entourage. He gives a nod to the nearest guard, "Oi, lad. When she's done reportin in or whatever it is ranger's do then have a word with her and she'll vouch for my bein here. Till then you just let me know what sort a distance you'd prefer I'd keep."

Venan tilts his hat back and considers the guard, "Ah, my apologies, you're no lad, least not so young as I thought…just got that sort of boyish face. Must drive the womenfolk mad. You'll have to let me share a drink with you once the pomp is past and it's proper to do so by way of apology."

Eldan drags his daughter into his lap even as he looks at his brother, "Remind me to never let Elly to sail anywhere with you." She'd probably come home with tattoos or something… he thought he was getting past the running naked portion of childhood. This is just going to enhance. Elly just squirms in her father's lap trying very hard to see whatever it is he doesn't want her to see.

The closer the get to the temple men with metal tipped spears can be seen. They are dressed the same as others but small half capes adore their shoulders of brightly colored feather mixed with silver square links. These men eye the travelers warily and they are standing at what could only be described as attention. Others with quivers full of arrows are nearby them. They wait. They block the path to the stone fortress in the in sky.

"Ah, so that is why you go sailing?" Altair remarks to Kieran, unable to hold back a brief chuckle. He pauses for a few moments as he hears Victoria's words, but keeps quiet for now, studying the woman for a few moments.

Venan tugs his hat back down and puffs up a good cloud of smoke under it as he reels in his mules so they're walking two abreast rather than strung out. He gets a firm hold of them saying, "Aye, careful now girlies, this be bought the time when it's right easy to get poked full of holes." He digs into the emergency incentive supply and produces a carrot for each of them. "Now remember that cute and harmless look we been practicing?"

Victoria glances over her shoulder towards Venan and the guards he talks to, a slow smile curved on her lips as she tugs her mount back towards to give said word. Not that her word that he's a trader she met on the road will help any, but perhaps that will give him enough purchase to be able to stay. He's already here after all, "Time to start showing off your wares to the staring natives, yes?" The Huntress will suggest merrily, her quiver untucked from the side of her saddle and slung up over her back and through the bow until they're nearly settled between her shoulders. Despite the heat she wears her full leathers of dark browns and greens, though the hood of her cloak is pushed back and the scarf wound about her forehead and lower face is undone to give her sweaty face a moment in the air. There she's able to be studied more openly, the Ranger moving forwards with the rest of the group, reins of the horse re-taken as she leads it along, steps easy and swaying. Admiring the locals and their clothing she will pine secretly to be able to wear clothing as they do, amber gaze studying as she merely keeps in line with the group, there to assist where she's needed.

Having fallen silent, Nima watches, uncertain of what to say as the temple men cab be seen. It is for the King to decide, surely. Assuring herself that Elly was in a safe place, she smiles to discover her with her father. Casting a curious glance to Kieryn, she laughs softly. "Do they? Out on the sea?"

Kieryn chuckles at Altair's comment and shakes his head, "Oh no, of course not, that's not the only reason I took up sailing, but I would say that it is a perk, wouldn't you?" he grins and then looks to Nima, "I know, I am a real cad aren't I?" he gives her a wink and then doesn't give the naked women another glance, its not like he's never seen then like before and he knows better than to stare openly, especially when there are other women around.

He nods to Nima, "Yeah, some of them do, as I said when out of the sight of land. It's warm out on the water."

Venan tsks and shakes his head in response to Victoria's suggestion, "That'd be poor form, best to give those of highest rank and biggest bank chance to buy first." He looks over the mules, "Also, I've no feel for this King so I'm not certain how much of this he'll consider his due gift and it is best not to come up short on a first impression." He follows her gaze towards the locals a few times then chuckles and says, "Don't worry, mistress, you're better lookin by far."

Venan puffs a few clouds then adds, "But if you should wish to make the comparison fair, I'll not object to your adopting the local fashion."

As he sees the men with with the spears and arrows, Altair instantly moves the horse he's on closer to his sister, just in case. "I really hope the natives are less aggressive than their lands," he says, in their native language, words kept rather quiet for now.

With her horse now well enough to be ridden, Luna leads the group of eight clergy members within the party. Their matching white robes tied with thick golden ropes sway with the movements of their mounts. Vivid green eyes look out over the crowd of natives, her lips curved in only a small, curious smile. The humidity still causes those tight raven curls to poof and halo her head. After all this time in the jungle, her naturally tan skin has darkened to a healthy bronze-brown hue. For now, she remains silent and ever watchful

For a long moment, Nima is speechless as she gapes at Kieryn, but the blush that steals into her cheeks is telling. She ducks her head demurely, but there is a small lilting smile on her lips. "Perhaps not so much of a Cad, Kieryn." His reply was an answer she had expected, and the blush heightens.

"Oh by the rotten toes of Inouv, Venan, all the way here, you never stop." So says Victoria with a low chuckle, her hand extending away from her slowly to gesture towards the man with the missing tooth, "By all means, you adopt their dress and let us compare the menfolk as is appropriate, then perhaps my shyness will fall away and I too will adopt their dress for fair comparison." She won't speak directly to the natives however, going with the others as they move. Stop when they stop.

Venan makes a quick, "At-tut-tut-tut." Noise and shoos some of the children back when they get too close to the pack animals. "Oi, ya scamps. Don't be prying into them. There's many a breakable thing in there and even them pouches what have the treats you're liable to spill on the ground and that'll spoil them." He considers for a moment then pulls round the bag of treats, "Alright, bit of a game while them what do formalities are formalitizing." He grins, "My name is Venan." He points to himself and says, "Venan". He then pulls a treat out, "Right, so Venan." He points to himself, "…gets a treat." He grins, "Now, here's yer chance to win a treat. Say my name, say your name, and say treat." He points to himself, and to them, then to the treat."

One of the party who was hired to be the translator, passed away from the burning sickness. But one of the guardsmen during the travel had been learning the rudimentary basics of the language. The man steps forward. He has long since discarded his chainmail. The man stands about 5'9 in height is much taller than the guards. His is ash blonde and his skin burned a red from the sun when they can find it. He is sweating profusely and he is covered with mud and mosquito bites. He converses with them softly and perhaps it just not their lucky day. He turns to them. "Your Majesty, highnesses, lords and Lady, they say come back tomorrow the God king is busy. We are welcome to stay outside of the city. They say we have the look of the Pigmi on us and we have the burning sickness. But I am not sure, but I think I may have insulted these two guards. Or perhaps one of you can see if you can persuade them that we are harmless and let them allow us to stay in the city?"

Victoria will remain close to the group of people who actually have the ability to make decisions amongst the group, keeping an ear out to Venans' activities which brings a smile to her lips that she quickly suppresses, straightening up her stance as she looks to the nobles, waiting to see which one will go about trying to soothe the natives.

Venan glances over towards the guard at his pronouncement then turns his attention back to the children, "You lot stay put, seems the formalitizing isn't going exactly as one would hope." He rises and carefully stows the bag of treats. He puffs a few times on his pipe and, when no cloud of smoke is forthcoming, stares cross-eyed down into the bowl. "Ah, ya blasted weed, now ya run out on me?" He pulls a twig and candle from his pack and lights the twig from the pipe, the candle from the twig, then blows out the twig, empties and repacks the pipe, then lights the twig from the candle and the pipe from the twig then blows all but the pipe out. Once he's got his cloud going again he moves a bit closer to Victoria, "Oi, Mistress, what's all this then about not getting the royal welcome? Oh, and don't think I didn't hear you askin to see my bum, I just didn't want to say something in front of the youngsters."

Luna moves up to the guard and natives, smiling enigmatically. "Ask them if their King has time for those who speak on behalf of other gods. "

Some Time Later

Eldan doesn't know if anything is stalking him. He simply holds Elly and hushes her, whispering softly to her to keep her calm telling her some silly story that he makes up on the spot. Cai stands near Eldan's chair, alert and ready, his eyes sweeping the surroundings since he knows that Eldan needs to keep his focus elsewhere at the moment.

Shadows grow longer with each breath the campers take. The air remains humid and now is still. The entire forest is holding its breath as if waiting for something. There is another movement. A shifting shadows in the trees or perhaps an animal.

Venan has his mules laying close together with a pavillion like tent spread over them and staked to the ground around the outside. The quartet of animals seem accustomed to this treatment as the man moves about trailing his cloud of bitter smoke. When the preparations are to his satisfaction he comes to check in with the others. He puffs a few deep pulls lighting up his nose with he glow from his pipe then takes the pipe from his mouth and taps it empty. He fusses with it to clean it with a long straw before repacking.

Kieryn lifts his head weakly and looks up at Nima as she says his name and he blinks sme, "Oh.. Nima, hello, what's wrong?" he raises his eyebrow at her, though he's not quite himself.

Once more Nima positions herself between Elly and whatever shadows she can see moving in the trees. Feeling the warmth from the ground, she is not disappointed, as once more she finds that peace, that solace. She closes her eyes against the shadows and draws a fortifying breath, drawing comfort from the sound of Eldan telling Elly the story and Cai on high alert, Altair sleeping and Kieryn sick. She was adamant no one would be touched again. Releasing the breath, she opens her eyes again. "You have no power here," her voice is firm but not biting. Another breath is taken and she allows the warmth to seep into her feet, her legs, from the earth. Hearing Kieryn, she reassures. "Rest, Kieryn. I will tend you in a moment, just… rest, please." Her voice is gentle and she does not look over, her gaze is riveted on the woods, the shadows she wills away.

<FS3> Dair rolls 4: Success.
<JUDGE> Lughdon says, "They were cut and breaking loose, rearing and something was scaring them."

Venan's mules seem to be about the last animals still in the camp for no one seems to be interested in trying to catch the horses as they shy and come free of their tethers. Someone has untied or cut them loose and scared them. The horses go every which way, some of them to run and leap through the camp but in moments they disappear into the night and are soon gone.

All else is quiet aside from some of Venan's mules to try and get up, startled and braying. The frogs have not resumed singing and as yet, nothing else threatens the camp. Whatever is out there has paused to listen.

Venan gets his pipe relit and sends a stream of smile up, his lower lip jutting out. The cloud cascades along the brim of his hat falling up into the sky. "Oi, hang about. If you lot are here, who's making all that ruckous with the horses?" He flips back the edge of his pavillion to make sure the mules are still hobbled and staked then moves to see what is going on with the horses.

<FS3> Dair rolls Perception Please.: Embarassing Failure.
<JUDGE> Dair says, "roller perception please…."
<FS3> Eldan rolls Perception: Good Success.
<FS3> Venan rolls Perception: Good Success.
<FS3> Eldan rolls Perception: Success.
<FS3> Nima rolls Perception: Failure.
<OOC> Eldan rolls for Cai too. I don't care which of those you give to me.
<OOC> Eldan says, "Nima sees pretty butterflies flying up to the sky"

Something else moves and there is slight puff or sigh, then a snort from the shadows. The night around them grows darker still slowly another star winks into existence and the light from cri begins to shift.

Even as the sounds wash over her, Nima is aware of the remaining horses bolting. She could not think about that right now. She hears the silence, feels the weight of the waiting. "You have nothing here," she repeats firmly. She spins a slow circle as if dancing, but pauses once more as she faces the shadows, staring back. She takes a step forward, keeping her feet within the dirt, feeling the warmth stealing over her as if feverish, but she looks quite healthy.

Kieryn nods to Nima as she tells him to rest and he closes his eyes again and lays his head back into his hand, not sleeping, but just sitting there like that and resting. He's not sure he could manage to do anything even if he wanted to right now.

Eldan shivers slightly as he looks into the shadows, a sense of cold creeping over him. He watches the horses flee and can't do much about it. He can only hope they can be rounded up, otherwise they will never be making it back to Mobrin. Cai simply moves closer to Eldan's wheelchair, his hand straying to the sword strapped at his side. Eldan just keeps stroking Elly's hair and talking nonsense to her. The story he tells just seems to get more fanciful as time passes.

There is a sound out there. It starts very faint and then rises suddenly. It sounds like … the laugh of a child. A small child, laughing in the night. And then it's gone and so are the horses. All is quiet for a long span before the frogs begin to sing once more.

Venan curses around his pipe stem, and having seen the mules well secured turns to go after the horses only to find them, gone? "Inouv take ya, ya great beasts. Why coldn't your sire have done the sensible think and gone after a fine piece of ass rather than that nag of a dam of yers." With no sign of the horses he turns back to his mules and sits puffing on his pipe.

<JUDGE> Dair says, "please roll perception."
<FS3> Venan rolls Perception: Failure.
<FS3> Nima rolls Perception: Good Success.
<FS3> Eldan rolls Perception: Great Success.

The shadows were always there, even in the daylight, just beyond where the light fringed the path they had taken thus far. But tonight, they seemed to be trying to reach her. Nima hears the child laugh and a piercing fear shoots through her, a sudden doubt. Once more, she seeks the reassurance of Elly safe in the arms of her father. Relief. Kieryn was ill, she needed to tend him, she needed to push away the shadows, and then there was Venan cursing. So many distractions. She attempts to keep her mind focusing. This time though, she kneels on the ground sinking her hands into the soft dirt, lifting her hands, palms up, twin piles of earth in each hand. "You are not welcome here," she says aloud. "You must go. I will never allow you near any of them." This time her tone is vehement.

Another giggle from another part, but it does not comes closer. It is just a small child like giggle. In the forest there is the sound of something moving through the underbrush crashing through it as it moves away from there. Then nothing, as it all grows quiet again.

Kieryn decides that he can't really rest and he lifts his yead slowly to watch Nima and blinks and mumbles to himself his head starting to drift down again, though he doesn't want it to.'
Kieryn mutters to himself, "… good.. Nima… dancing… us… wind"

After a few minutes of furious puffing Venan moves to go inside the loose pavillion staked down around the mules, "Yes, yes, you're all beautiful and beloved, now stop yer braying and settle." There's a bray, a curse and a thud then a bit more cursing. "I will feed you when the sun comes up and not a moment before, ya long-faced pig. Now stop nudging me about. It be fair likely come tomorrow at least one of you is goin to be a noble steed, which means I need to be generous tonight." He comes back out of the tent and secures the edge then throws the pieces of one of his pipes to the ground and pulls another out, packs and lights it by tipping the remaining embers from the broken pipes bowl into it and puffing madly. He peers towards Nima for a moment then shakes his head dismissing it and makes his way over to where Eldan and Elly are.

Eldan holds Elly to him even closer, his gaze swinging towards where the crash came from. Cai seems to follow Eldan's gaze, both men looking for something… a sign of something. Eldan's voice doesn't stop the soft talking even as he looks around. He keeps his daughter close and secure in his lap. He swings his gaze to Kieryn, and then finally Nima, looking them over for any sign of injury, before having his gaze settle on Nima for the time being.

Hearing nothing else around her, Nima leaves the earth in her hands, closing fingers around it as she lowers her hands to her side and stands. Standing there staring at the forest a long moment, she drops the dirt and dusts off her hands. Looking towards Elly, a smile playing on her lips as she walks over, but only tousles the young girls hair first, brushing her fingers over Eldans shoulder, a nod to Venan and now she is before Kieryn. "I have medicine for you." Where she had left her bag earlier, she takes it now and quietly begins working. While she withdraws the herbs, she grinds them together in a small bowl and mixes it with a touch of wine, all she has available at the moment. She kneels beside him, hand gently on the back of his head as she offers the bowl to his lips. "For your fever, Kieryn.. please."

Kieryn shakes his head at Nima a bit weakly and sighs, he looks up at her and mutters to her, it's about all he can manage, but then pulls his head back a little if he can, away from the bowl, though his head is being held by the back of his neck. He keeps his mouth closed firmly after muttering.
Kieryn mutters to Nima, "… It'd… all… me… to…"

Venan carries his pack over and sets it down, "Milord, would ya do me the favor of letting me make a gift of a few things to your little princess there?" He thunks down on his backside as he makes the inquiry of Eldan and opens the pack. "A very pretty young woman, daughter of the owner of the Riverview Inn, made these." He pulls several long sticks out of the pack. "Now they look to be quite ordinary, I know, but they're just to set the stage. May I?"

Eldan looks up to Venan and nods to him. He'd gladly accept help in keeping Elly calm and feeling safe. He gives his daughter a little poke and she lifts her head and looks to Venan, offering him a brilliant smile, "What's it do?"

Miss-roll-> <FS3> Nima rolls Healing: Success.
<OOC> Nima points out I rolled healing last time instead of healer lol
<FS3> Nima rolls Healer: Good Success.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kieryn=hopelessness+2 Vs Nima=healing
< Kieryn: Failure Nima: Good Success
< Net Result: Nima wins - Solid Victory

"Oh I am sorry, Kieryn, I could never do that." Nima does not leave his side, but she does remove the bowl for now, feeling the heat of his head on her hands. The concern is deep in her eyes and she gently cradles him to her. "Princess Elly needs Uncle Kieryn and Eldan will always need you, Kieryn. I.. I need you as well, please will you at least take the medicine. It could not hurt any worse than it does right now." She runs her fingers in his hair much as she would the little girl, a reassuring touch. She lifts the bowl to his lips again, she smiles tenderly. "I beg of you, Kieryn. Please take the medicine."

Venan sparks a bright grin with a dark spot. He pulls out a holder for each stick setting it down, then puts a curious little cap on the top of each. He holds a piece of straw to the bowl of his pipe and puffs a few times. The straw ignites and from it he lighs each of the sticks which are revealed to be candles. Four in a square with a center one taller. The caps protect the flame from the wind and reflect the light down to the ground. "Have you ever been to a proper circus? One with a menagerie?" He reaches for his pack again. "I have, it was splendid. A great big tent, with a top so high you couldn't see it with a looking glass and walls so far apart it took a day to ride from one wall to the other, or so it seemed." As he speaks he draws the outine of the tent top from the center candle to the four on the outside and circles his hands to define the walls. "And within, so many creatures to see." He makes a sweeping gesture with his hands and scoops up something he had set aside from the pack. Cupping it in his hands he claps them together and as he pulls them apart a fine horse is revealed. "At first I thought it just the prettiest mare I'd ever laid eyes on, but look closely, little princess, do you see? Not just a young mare, but a young…" The little carved wax figure of a horse has a tiny spiraled horn growing from the center of it's forehead.

Kieryn sighs and then he nods to Nima, he can't resist the kindness it seems and he drinks from the bowl and then makes a face, he hates the taste of that foul stuff, though he's probably forced himself to drink worse things before.. who knows what all they sell in seedy taverns and such? "I'll take it for you and for my family.. I just don't think it will work though, it hasn't so far and I'm so tired of it." he shakes his head, "I suppose if I did not have a duty I'd just rol over and die and not think twice about it, or at least that's how i feel right now."

Elly claps her hands, "Look Papa… it's like Butterfly with a horn." Which of course is the best thing in the world to a four and a half year old. Eldan smiles at his daughter, "That's great Elly." Of course he is still on alert, and he casts a worried gaze to his brother, "You will survive it Kieryn… otherwise Tamsin will find a way to make your afterlife more miserable than this."

Venan nods, "It is called a unicorn, blessed by the gods they are and so rare you might go your whole life without seeing one, and if you should see more than one running together, they you've seen a blessing." He leaves the unicorn on display and scoops up another creature, "But that was not the only thing there was to see…" He continues on revealing each of the mythical creatures one by one to distract the little princess.

Helping him drink down the pasty medicine, Nima offers him a drink of wine right after, to wash away the taste. "You will get better. I would allow now different." Though there is a smile playing on her lips, there is a light of determination in her eyes. "You will get well even if I have to will it myself." She offers a patient look. "You will not roll over and die. You are a fighter and you have a ship and family to live for." Hearing the story from Venan to Princess Elly, she turns a surprised look to the man, to Elly and to Eldan. Moving to sit beside Kieryn now, she pats her lap. "Rest, Kieryn, you will be better by morning." She Prays.

Kieryn nods to Nima and then to Eldan, "I know. it is just wearing on me. I am tired of being sick for weeks and feeling better some days, but then feeling worse others. It's not been easy to deal with.. Just been trying to be strong since Eldan was so sick before.. but now that he is better, I guess it is alright for me to be weak." he lays back and lays his head in Nima's lap, "I think i will sleep a while." e closes his eyes, but gives Nima a small smile, "thank you Nima." he tells her, before he's drifting off.

The last creature in the menagerie is the phoenix and as Venan draws the tale to the close he reveals. "The phoenix is a wonderous bird, it is born from the ashes of it's elder and when it is ready it burns brightly then is reborn again. This menagerie is like that as well, when you are ready to see it reborn you must set each of the creatures alight." He reveals the wick in each creature's back. But not until you've enjoyed them as they are, I think." He leaves the little princess to play with the wax figurines and moves back to allow the lord's to rest.

Dair (D) pages: Also my I please have a +roll
Dair (D) pages: for body?
<FS3> Venan rolls Body: Success.

Venan works at his pipe creating the cloud of smoke that keeps the bugs and the ill humors at bay. Once he is properly ensconced in his miasma he works his way back to his mules.

Venan fusses about inside his pavillion resorting his packs. "Pretty and expensive, pretty and expensive, pretty and cheap, ugly and expensive, oh, letters, I can give them out now, that'll lighten it, cheer a few of the guards up to, I'd wager." Those goods which are not the best of the best go into a seperate pack to be left behind should weight become an issue. A number of food-stuffs and some of the unique but inexpensive drinks get set aside as well. "This all comes of not having a proper wagon."

"Oh sweet toes of Inouv, really, Venan …as much as the melodious cadence of your voice prompted me to feeling quite well on the trip up this way, truly …right now …I could sew those lips shut." Comes a voice from just outside his pavillion, the Huntress curled up in her tent, currently shivering despite the warmth, in the beginning stages of malaria that most others had encountered on the way up. Unlacing the entry way to her tent she will crawl out slightly, turning around and leaving her head hanging out, dark hair piling beneath her head as she eyes towards Venans place of rest as he sorts through things, "Tell me you've something delicious with you."

<FS3> Venan rolls Apothecary: Success.

Venan looks over Victoria for a few moments, "I'll tell you, Mistress, you've looked better." He puffs up a cloud of smoke then walks over and lays his hand against her forehead, "In that river where you took a moment to bathe, for example, or at least my imagination assures me you would have looked amazing." He rises after checking her head and gathers up one of the bottles he'd pulled out and brings it to her, "Early cider, drink it slowly." He then goes back to his pack and rumages around till he finds the herbs he's looking for. He sets one of his pots on the fire to bring the water up to temperature as he crushes the herbs into a small silver ball on a chain. "An I mean slowly, little sips. You'll want to have a lot of that left when I tell you to drink what I'm about to make."

Victoria's skin is clammy, paleness conquering her usual duskiness. Hoarsely she'll laugh, willing her eyes to turn up towards the mans face as he speaks such kind words to her, "Oh? You've allowed that imagination of yours to roam with images of me?" A pause as she clears her throat, shivering violently, a hand coming up to follow after his as he rises up and away from her. Her hand will drop down to her chest, wry smile curving the outer edges of her mouth, gaze trailing after Venan. Pushing up to a sit slowly she will position herself to be able to get that cider, drawing one knee up to her chest, the other splaying out in front of her as she sits in the mouth of her tent, trembling hands raising the cider to her lips. A small sip is taken, her eyes closing in bliss, nodding her head slowly, "M'kay." Murmured between another sip, her chin sinking in towards her chest as she waits for the herbs to arrive before drinking more of the mana from the gods.

Venan shifts his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other, the little clay appendage sending a stead stream of smoke up to pool under the brim of his hat. "You were the best of the scenery on the trip, Mistress. While a bit flashy for my taste a beggar can't be complainin of dressing above his station if a king lends him a cloak." He sinks the silver ball into the kettle to steep. He leaves it in a long time, making a thick and bitter tea. "Asides, anything I tell ya now I can just laugh off as a vision brought on by too many firey humours in your blood later."

Victoria actually manages to blush, which is likely a first for the woman, her laugh dry and humorless as she wheezes a bit, eyes half-lidding, "Flashy, not something I get called often when in the company of Lords and Ladies with ..incredibly finery. But .." A little wave of her right hand away from the cider to dismiss the notion, "Thank you. You're beyond kind ..and this cider tastes like tiny butterflies dancing upon my tongue, feasting on my brain." Compliment, that was a compliment, and it's followed by a dry heaving cough, right hand suddenly pressing down to her belly as she groans. She hasn't been able to eat for a few days now, and the cider in her stomach seems to be too much, "Aha …a convenient way out, I won't forget, no matter the fever …Venan .." Hork. There goes the cider in a most unlady like manner.

Venan nods, "There were a reason I said slowly, Mistress." He sighs and pours some of the heated tea onto a cloth and moves near to Victoria. He takes the bottle away from her and sets it aside then says, "If you struggle, I'll pin you, and tell every man woman and child in the kingdom that I pinned you and had my way with you. If you stop floppin about and let me just see to this then none will ever hear a word of it." So saying he, one way or another, gathers up Victoria's hair, wipes down her face, arms and hands. Then puts her back inside her tent so he can fetch a shovel and remove the mess she's made.

Is she that transparent? She would have struggled, if only to be difficult, especially with how she's feeling right now, which is miserable. As the bottle is snapped away from her she nearly offers up protest, reaching for it before his words sting at her ears and like a sullen child she relents, certainly not in any shape to fight him. So all she will do is cough mightily into the small of her elbow as he gathers her hair, shoulders drooping a little. No words for him for the time being, just eyes closing in welcome relief as the cloth wipes over her flesh, body shuddering, easily moving back into her tent where she draws the blankets over her, peering out apologetically outside the flap if her tents as she watches him clean the mess she made, "I'm sorry, Venan, for being such a bloody pain in the ass."

Venan moves off and gives the shovelfull of dirt a good fling before walking back, "Yer a beautiful woman, Mistress. I'm sure as soon as yer feelin better you'll realize it was all my fault anyway." He chuckles, "Least that's what most of the pretty ones do." He returns the shovel to the tools then goes to check on the tea which is now hot and thick enough to pour into a cup to cool. He then walks over to the kettle he returned to the fire and drops the cloth he washed her with into the boiling brew. He leaves it there a few moments before fishing it free with his knife. He runs a pair of tongs down the length of it squeezing out most of the water then waves it in the air a few times until it is cool enough to touch and hangs it to dry. He pours out the kettle and rinses it while the tea in the cup becomes drinkable then takes it to her. "Now, this time, drink slow. A drop or two at a time, you won't want more than that in your mouth anyway."

Victoria's head flops to the pile of clothes she's using as a pillow, soft chuckle rising in her throat, "I'm not like most women, Venan, as I'm sure you'll find. Not nearly as fickle nor wanting of a man to plop all my woes upon." Her voice is weak, though the humor is not gone from her voice as she allows her eyes to close, listening to him work as she draws up her knees to her chest, feet wiggling in her boots. Her brain begins to lull her away to a nice sleep, though his voice rouses her again. Blearily she will open her eyes, glancing up at him, forcing herself to push up to a half-sit, reaching out for the cup, hand shaking heavily, drops of tea spattering on her blankets as she raises it to her tongue, taking a very small sip. The cup will get drawn back to her throat where she'll hold it beneath her chin, shivering coarsely as she manages a small laugh, "I ..feel like a child. I will owe you—" Cough, sputter, a lick of her lips, eyes closing, "So much ..after this. Too kind. I feel like one of your mules." A joke, or an attempt at one there, a second small sip taken.

Venan shrugs, "I'm fond of having debts to me settled in gold, make as big a pile of gold as you like then just send it along to me." He watches her carefully as she sips at the tea ready to pounce and save it from a spill. "Asides, you can't claim to be treated like one of my mules, I ain't riding you and calling you a fine sort of ass." He puffs on his pipe to restore his protective smoke screen, "Though I'd be willing to have a go at it when ya stop sayin ya feel like a child, which is a bit off putting."

Victoria would choke on the sip of tea she has in her mouth, but it's only enough to wet her tongue at this rate. Impishly her shoulders rise up and she will laugh, chin down to her chest, shoulders rocking. It's so odd to be laughing right now with how miserable she feels, but Venan seems to be doing the trick. Managing to keep a hold of the tea whose bitterness she does not mind she will wait to sip at it again, head shaking. The cup will right, and the fleshy bit of palm beneath her thumb will be used to wipe beneath her nose, amber gaze opening fully to look up at Venan, a faint smile on her face as she continues to tremble. Another sip, enough to whet her tongue, and a nod, "Either it's the gold, V, or a try at me, you'll never get both out of me." Managed, gaze dropping again as a low chuckle rocks through her, the huntress trying for another very small sip.

Venan sparks a bright grin with a dark spot, "I'll take the gold then, and just wait till you come round to your senses and make a try at me." He moves back to his packs then comes back holding his finger out, "Ya will be needing to grant me a bit of a kiss though. The tea should help to stabalize the chills and the fevers and ease breathing, but your goin to be crackin your lips soon if something aint done. So pucker like ya were wantin a kiss." If she does he touches his finger to her lips, his finger is covered in a mix of wax and clove oil that burns like the dickens for a moment before numbing.

"Don't you know, us Rangers ain't got a speck of sense in us. We commune with the trees and winds, and are lovers of the earth and sky …" A bit babbly now, the Huntress not quite feeling as if she's got a hard grip on her mind. A few more words drop whisperingly from her lips, nonesense. A little bit of a heave as she realizes her eyes are closed, and the words 'were wantin' a kiss' reach her ears, dry laugh careening from her lips which delves into a cough. The cup is dropping to her thigh, one hand still holding to it, head tilting back a smidgen as she purses her lips, no more.

Venan retrieves the cup from her and sets the clove and wax to her lips then draws back. He slides the lid of the tin cup onto it and puts it down where Victoria can get to it when she wants it. "From what I hear of the others you've got a few days of this ahead, and you'll need to rest to get through it. You're likely to wake up feelin fine every now and again, but you're not goin to be. So when ya do, ya take care of them things what absolutely be needful, then you rest, and you don't go pretending you're all the way better till you feel better for two days in a row."

Venan adds, "And no sneakin into my tent to have your way with me."

"You ain't my ma." Victoria will murmur, her lips burning fiercly before they go numb, her tongue swiping out and getting a good bite of the numbness to it. Dropping down after he applies the salve she'll reach out to grab the tin, curling a hand around it and bringing it tight to her chest, holding onto it as if it were a lifeline. Her eyes feel so heavy and will lid a few times before finally closing, corners of her mouth curving upwards as she lets out a very softly snorted laugh, decidedly unlady like, "S'if such a bad thing …"

Venan waves his hand dismissively as he puts away his supplies, "I'll not have my reputation besmirched…you'd ruin my chances at a good marriage." He pauses, "Actually, that's not a bad idea, I could get a reputation as a cad and a lechor." He sighs, "But I suppose then mother would just marry me to one of those poor girls who fell under my seductive sway, no, I don't think that would do at all."

Victoria snorts softly, the blankets warmth lulling her into a nice cozy cocoon, "I won't be ..smirchin' no ..reputation for you, not worrying a moment." Mumbled, her smile wide on her lips as she cozies down, "'Sides, ruin /my/ rep if ..I start chasin' to them men ..ain't no one catchin' the Hawk, no one. I fly …" Up above high in the trees lies her hunting hawk in wait, currently snoozing as his mistress down below goes through her fever pains, feathers all ruffled, "I fly free …where only the Gods and Goddesses …dare go."

Venan smiles at Victoria's sleepy protests and offers the old proverb "Fools go gladly where gods dare not dally." He smiles, "And you're a woman for whom a man could get foolish." He chuckles as he moves to his pavillion to get some sleep, "Here's hopin you forget most of this." He crawls into his pavillion and goes to sleep after checking the mules one last time.

Victoria has already drifted off into fevered dreams, body falling heavily into the blankets within her tent and the clothes at her head. Her mind soars, off into the clouds, where great and terrible things await - a few cries out into the night air sounding her trials before she mellows out into gentler dreams, always another demon waiting 'round the corner for her to pounce up and drive her dreams down, though carefully placed updrafts always carry her up further to regain into flight once more, until the morning breaks.'

The next morning

Venan rises earlier than many in the camp. The young merchant moves about not wasting his good fortune and good health. He tends to his mules, carefully collapses the loose pavillion he and the animals occupied the night before, then packs everything. His pipe produces a constant cloud of bitter smelling smoke that trails after him as he criss-crosses the camp lending what help he can but mostly seeing to his own needs. One exception is the pot of tea he brews and gives to all those who wake, "Seemed to do the mistress a bit of good and the woman what sold them to me was of the ernest sort and suggested drinking at least three cups of this a day when traveling to Jadda."

A bit of good is one way to put it. Easing her way back into the camp slowly is Victoria, still experiencing fever and chills, though her appetite has returned enough to manage to keep some food down despite her sickness. Her hair is damp and braided back, though she's fully dressed and looking, well, not her best. Pale flesh with a yellow tinge to it, dark circles under her eyes, but due to Venans mixture she's alive! If not a bit growly at folks. Just a bit. Hence her silence this lovely morning. Her gear is all packed up and ready to go, horse waiting while it chews on some stuff nearby, the woman tossing a seagrass woven bag to her gear near the horse as she moves towards the fire that's cooking the morning food to warm up some.

Venan eyes Victoria as she starts moving about, "Ya give heed to what I were saying last night, only do what ya find absolutely needful and not a bit more till you're feeling fine for a two days entire." He puffs up a bit more smoke and blows it down towards his navel before moving to his pack again, "Though as you're seein to what's left of the horse, give me a count when ya can. I've a few pounds of salted meat here that I'd rather eat than throw aside if my poor mules are goin to be burdened."

"I recall, at some point-" Pause, cough, the Huntress staying hunkered near the fire, "-Tellin' you, V, that you were not my mother." Dryly delivered, the woman not about to laze about for a full two days whilst others are going about their business to try and get back home. Atop the horse sits her hunting hawk, Nelan, the bird currently in the midst of cleaning and preening it's feathers and toes. Hearing the request she will push up with a grunt, pausing momentarily as a wave of diziness comes over her, the woman closing her eyes and standing still before forcing a few steps back away from the fire. Eyes open then and she goes about the task of ..giving a count. Of something.

Venan chuckles, "Aye, Mistress, you did do that. Were I your mother maybe you'd have sense enough to listen rather than arguin against good sense." He takes his pipe out to check it and puts a bit more herb in on top of what is already there, "Though maybe not, did you get along with yer mother?" He walks over and puts another cup of the tea into her hands, "Drink, the horses can wait…or even if they can't they will as you're not up to wrangling just yet."

Snorting softly Victoria will sink down into a crouch, elbows on her thighs, mentally begging her senses to regain their stability as the camp moves around her. Hands will drift up to her face where gloves fingertips will slide against her cheeks and up over her eyes, palms cupping. A deep breath in, her eyes tightly closed as the sensation of a thousand tiny worms crawl beneath her flesh, "My mother wasn't my mother, but ..we got along all right." Her voice trembles a bit, another deep breath sucked in past flared nostrils, the cup of tea pressed into her hands taken gratefully, "Half of what she said didn't make bloody sense …" A peek of those amber eyes of hers as she eyes Venan, corners of her lips twitching towards a smile though never making it, "You're a bloody mother hen though, aren't you." Sip.

Venan chuckles, "I like to travel in comfort, you coughing and snuffling and choking and dying would disturb my sleep." He hunkers down beside her puffing up his protective cloud against the humours. He holds the cup till she's ready, "If you should ever get the foolish notion to accompany me again I'll show you a proper trip, in my wagon, silken bedsheets over mattresses stuffed with the finest goose down." He chuckles, "Or more likely linen over fresh heather, but you've got to start negotiations high with my family."

Victoria will finally force her left hand away from her face, reaching out to grab the cup, and then sipping as she's needed to. Still very small sips, all nice and slow lest she get another lecture, "Oh Gods and Goddesses forbid I travel with you again, my luck I'd be just as ill being coddled over by other of your members." Not unkindly stated, her voice dripping with humor that manages to reach her eyes and dance, "Though, if I do lose my senses, even the linen and heather would be a delight to my bones."

Venan smiles, "Ah, careful there, Mistress. I find once a girl is forbidden to do something with me it becomes an obsession of theirs." He gestures back towards his mules, "I've a special stick used to fend of young women whose father's have forbade them to come near me." He rubs his chin, "I can only imagine the sort of desire that would be stirred if a god or goddess were to forbid a woman from my company." He takes switches his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other, "I think I'm going to need a bigger stick."

After an exhausting and confusing night in which it seems the jungle itself wished to play games with the camp the morning fast approaches. Guards have spread out to attempt to recapture the horses which broke loose during the night. The young merchant Venan has made a great big pot of tea and is forcing it on anyone who wakes. The merchant's quartet of mules were not disturbed during the events of the evening and are some of the few animals remaining in camp.

"If that's the path the Gods and Goddesses will you down, Venan, they are kind enough to dissuade me from following a path so well laid by others." Her tea cup is cradled against her chest, and carefully she will rise up, a low wheezing coming from the Huntress as she meanders off then to find a place to sit by the fire where she can recline and sweat out her fever.

Luna emerges from the tent she shares with the two other priestesses, which may or may not be within hearing distance of the merchant. Although her long, tight raven curls have clearly been brushed, they have not been bound in a bun, as they usually are. Furthermore, she braves the heat of her knee-length cloak, for beneath it her nighfshift shows. Holding her folded white robe, golden rope, and a towels in her arms, the spitting image of Umbra looks directly at Venan with a deep smirk. Arching an eyebrow, she shakes her head and chuckles softly.

Venan chuckles and shakes his head sending his smokey cloud spinning out from under his hat, "I wonder at times where this reputation of mine comes from." He claps his palms together when he sees Luna emerge, "Morning, priestess. Have a cup or two of tea, it comes highly recommended by a woman old enough to have breastfed wisdom."

Luna lightly touches her fingertips together, the best approximation of the standard palm-to-palm greeting she can manage while holding the garments. "Is this the brew which makes those forbidden from your bed by the Eight obsess over doing precisely that?" She eyes the drink warily, as though serious, before the smirk returns deeper than before. "I think I shall pass, thank you."

Venan smiles, "Ah, you've no need to worry over that, priestess, you're forbidden in general, it's only when it is me in specific that things become interesting." He pours a cup and drinks of it himself then offers it to her, "I mean what man wouldn't forbid his daughters from men in general? Asides, as I've said I've a sturdy stick to fend off the womenfolk with and some skill with it, not a one has made it past my defenses and into my bed."

With a soft snort, the priestess counters, "Is that because not a one has tried or because daughters are not as interesting to you as sons?" Despite the cheeky words, Luna's green eyes are alight with humor and a hint of mischief. A quick glance is sent toward the offered cup, then her full hands, and finally the man's face to demonstrate her dilemma. "Thank you, but I prefer to bathe before letting aught but words pass my lips." Curiosity touches her features briefly, causing her lips to gently purse and her cheeks to lift in response. "What kind of goods do you sell, precisely?"

Venan smiles, "Ah, priestess, it is because my stick is so fearsome and large that the girls are scared away, I'm firm in the defense of my reputation as a man who trades on it should be." He considers her stated course of action and questions, "Ye'll forgive the asking but you're not planning on going off to actually bathe are you?" He gestures off in the general direction of the water. "Been told that's unhealthy and seein the state of you lot when we caught up, thinkin there's some sense to that." He looks off to the woods and puffs up a good sized cloud of smoke before continuing, "As for my wares, well, when I'm representing myself, I sell such curios as catch my fancy in one place to the people of another. As I'm representing my family at the moment, I sell such goods as we're able to export profitably to Jadda. I've mostly gifts and examples about myself now, though those might be suffering if the horse remain gone."

That smirk twitches upward, on the verge of becoming a genuine smile. "Then I shall pray you find a woman worthy to wed, lest you spend the rest of your days alone and beating your stick against these imagined girls." Luna glances toward the jungle, then arches an eyebrow at the merchant. "I have bathed in this land far more than once on the way to Jadda and see no reason to cease the practice on the way back. You may have noticed when you arrived that I was tending to the sick, but did not once become ill myself." After a moment, she adds, "I do not fall ill." As a mosquito finds its way to her neck, she tilts and shakes her head to shoo it away. When her curls go flying about her shoulders and the middle of her back, the bothersome insect leaves, but not before taking its ounce of flesh. "Tell me more of the wares you trade when you represent only yourself."

If Venan notices the mosquitto through his wreath of smoke he pays it no mind, "As you say, priestess, I just follow the wisdom of others, I've not much of my own yet." He pours himself another cup of the tea, "I trade in all manner of objects, from the latest clockworks of Weston to the puzzles of people whose names I can hardly pronounce." He considers for a few moments, "If yer plannin on goin out to bathe, priestess, you find a spot where you're out of sight but not out of earshot and I'll keep an ear on you. Odd things been goin about and I prefer to tempt the gods in ways other than dangling a naked priestess out as bait." He produces a wooden ball from his pocket. The ball has a piece of string emerging from a slit that runs round the circumfrence of it. "I'll keep myself entertained with my balls while I wait."

Venan loops the string over his finger and throws the ball at the ground. It whirs on the end of the string for a few seconds before shooting back up to his hand. He takes a sip of his tea and waits for the priestess to lead on.

"Speaking of odd things…" Luna takes a moment to watch the strange stringed ball as it rebounds close to the ground. "Truly, what has happened of late hardly compares to what I have experienced. Umbra's… special attention takes many forms." Her lips curve into a warm smile as she dips her head. "Yet I shall not turn down so chivalrous an offer as a personal guard for my bath. Thank you." Her cloak sways at her knees as she starts for the jungle in the general direction of running water. With each step, her white nightgown grows muddied and gathers various items from the floorbed of nature.

The leathers that Venan wears shrug off the clinging fingers of nature with ease. He pauses to blow a cloud of smoke at a swarm of gnats that block his path and the horde of insects scatter from the bitter smoke. "Fortune favor that I remain a man of little consequence in the eyes of the gods, priestess, I'm content with my travel and my toys." He sends the little sphere shooting out from his hand again towards some underbrush and something hiding within the leaves scampers off and away. "You just be quick as you're comfortable with, the jungle was laughing at us last night and I'm not certain I wish to meet the creature that can laugh at the King's guard. Though I suppose if it lacks the sense to show a proper respect to the King it'll probably lack the sense to appreciate the finery you'll be showing." He tips back his hat to push his hair back into place then tugs the wide brim back down.

"The creatures in question have been laughing at us since long before we ever neared the jungle. The others simply did not hear it at first," Luna calls out over her shoulder. With an air laugh that contradicts the dire nature of the topic, she adds, "They will only appreciate my body and soul as potential meals, of course." It is not long before the sound of her form slipping into the water can be heard. A moment later, her head breaks through the surface and she begins to scrub herself with the bar of lye. Her belongings are neartly set upon a nearby log, with the discarded nightgown tossed haphazardly by the water's edge. "Tell me of your family, merchant." The sounds of droplets falling back to the stream continue beneath her voice.

Venan does as he promised and keeps his gaze firmly fixed everywhere but the priestess. "My father owns a large store north of Weston." The little ball whirs on the end of it's string. "Not all that far from here, actually. If we were to go south through the desert, but I would not recommend that at all. Some time ago he allied himself with several of the noble houses to deal with collecting taxes on goods passing through the area. Over time he's become quite essential to profitably moving goods through the area, my brothers are aiding him in continuing that legacy while I work to find new markets and sources for goods." He laughters echoes through the leaves, "My mother and sisters do what they can to keep my brothers and I from becoming overly ambitious, they've saddled all of the men of my family with wives save me, one of the reasons I avoid most family functions, though I do pay call when a niece or nephew is born, as it would be rude not to."

More laughter can be heard, echoing off the thick trees and vines. "I take it you have no intentions of passing on your legacy through children, then?" For all her lighthearted manner of discussing the danger around them, Luna does finish bathing in record time. She dries her body, then leans over to squeeze what seems to be gallons of water out of her hair. After wrapping the unruly tresses, she dresses in her pristine uniform with alacrity while listening to the man speak.

Venan sends a cloud of smoke upwards as he sips his tea and spins his ball, "In time, priestess, I'm not fond of those that make deals they don't intend to honor and I've no intention of settling down to raise a family just yet. When I've seen enough to know that the place I'm going to live is the one I like best, and the woman I choose to spend my time with is the most entertaining, then I'll make an honest offer to a woman. Though what of you, you seem to have a more permanent version of my temporary commitment, priestess."

Satisfied she will not drip, Luna removes the towel to let her damp hair loose. "If you ever plan to wed, you may not wish to be quite so leisurely about it. One never knows when one's time in this world shall end." After bending down to retrieve her nightclothes and wrap them up with the wel towel, she toes her shoes on and starts back toward the camp proper. The humidity causes her tight curls to frizz up in a black halo around her head. A brush would cry at the sight. "What of me?" She counters easily, although with a touch of confusion. "There is naught to consider, in my case."

Venan chuckles, "Priestess, if I were one whit less of a businessman I'd have cheated on our agreement and be happy to describe all the things about your case worthy of consideration." He sends the little ball whirring to the end of it's string then whips it around in a wide circle before it jumps back to his hand. "But I'm of the opinion that such oaths as you've taken and will be taking are things that should be given due consideration as well, so what of you?"

"The agreement of which you speak exists only in your head and within societal norms. It was not an explicit one between us, although I sincerely thank you for honoring it." Luna's throaty chuckle warms the air as she nears, the passes the man to slip briefly into her tent. Hardly a heartbeat later, she has returned, sans soiled garments, and moves to sit near him. "I shall take that tea now, if you please." The priestess watches her peers moving about as they pray, eat, and break camp for a time. Finally, she says, "There is truly naught for me to consider. I was born and bred to join this service to the Eight. Even if They were to suddenly and clearly remove the requirement of celibacy, I doubt I would ever wed. Perhaps once, when I was yet young, but no longer." So says the woman who appears to be, at the absolute most, in her late twenties.

Venan's own garments have a certain comfortably lived in look about them, though to smell anything other than the bitter weed he's been smoking for the last few weeks would take the nose of a masochistic blood-hound. "Well that's still a fair bit of considering, priestess, bein born and bred to something don't mean it's goin to happen. If you think it is I welcome you to have a conversation with Daisy over there." He points to one of his four mules, "She were born and bred to carry my burdens but I assure you there is considerable consideration and argument come time to set out. If you could explain to her that such is unneeded I'd be mightily grateful."

Luna laughs appreciatively and looks over to the ornery mule. "You have quite a point, Master Merchant. However, the being born to lead this life is a bit more literal in my case. If you do not see how, then I recommend you visit the great Temple in the capitol more often." Leaning back, she inhales deeply, clearly unperturbed by the stench of the strong weed. "More than that, it is my calling. Well and truly. My soul knows no joy half so great as it does when serving the Eight, and especially Umbra."

Venan says, "I've been in many temples, priestess, none quite so strange as the most recent but enough not to worry over a passing resemblence to one artist's vision. If it brings you joy then I wish you the best of it." He checks the tea then pours a new cup for Luna, "Mind the taste, it is…unique?" He searches for the word a moment before coming up with that offering.

After an exhausting and confusing night in which it seems the jungle itself wished to play games with the camp the morning fast approaches. Guards have spread out to attempt to recapture the horses which broke loose during the night. The young merchant Venan has made a great big pot of tea and is forcing it on anyone who wakes. The merchant's quartet of mules were not disturbed during the events of the evening and are some of the few animals remaining in camp. Luna has recent seen to her cleanliness while Venan kept watch, they've now returned to see to the tea.

"If it were only one or even ten artists' interpretations, none would give it a second thought," Luna replies with forced airiness, but there is a hint of a grimace to her lips. Or perhaps it is due to the nearness of that foul-smelling brew. "I take it this is not made for flavor? What in the world is it for? It is unlike any medicinal tea I have ever encountered, much less prepared." Her frizzy black hair halos her head even more than usual, for it is freshly bathed.

Venan considers the tea for a few moments then smiles, "Have a little faith, priestess." He chuckles and downs his cup at a draught only coughing a little at the bitter flavor. "It won't do you any harm and I've been told it'll do you a world of good. A bit like prayer only with an aftertaste."

Luna gives Venan a withering stare. "I have plenty of faith in the Eight. Forgive me if I have rather less in mortals." Again, she sniffs at her tea. "Particularly those with neither cooking nor healing credentials who tell me to drink something that seems to have come out of the back of your precious Daisy."

Venan chuckles and coughs as he draws in to create a new cloud of smoke for himself. "Suit yourself, priestess. I give credit to age and as I said, the woman I bought this mix from could have breastfed wisdom when it was born." He shrugs, "If that innit enough for you, then give a pass on the tea." He moves over to ready his mules for the road checking in with the guards as to whether any will be required for those who can't walk and have lost horses.

"Or idiocy, wisdom's evil twin," Luna retorts before taking a small, cautious sip. Her lips twist, eyes shut, and face screws up. After a long moment of recovery, she sets the cup down and gives Venan a pointed look. "Large, sagging breasts and overlapping wrinkles on a woman do not indicate she nursed anything more than many babes and, perhaps, too much strong brew." The words are nearly choked out. "Have you anything palatable to wash that taste out of my mouth?"

Having slept with his head in Nima's lap for as long as she let him as morning comes along, Kieryn wakes up slowly, still sick and still pretty much in the same mood he was in, before Nima finally got him to sleep, which was rather fitful at best, as he's tired of being sick.

Venan waves over his shoulder with a hand as he helps redistribute the packs about, "Aye, but you'd have to ask a fair sight more nicely than that." He coughs again on his pipe smoke and spits, "Ah, suck a duck." He curses then walks over and pours himself a big cup a tea. "Priestess, it innit polite to think bad thoughts about people, specially when you're on the good side of the gods."

Eldan is thankful Wenna gave him some things before he left as the travels have left him open to various things, including sores. Sure he seems to be free of the malaria which plagued him, but he's not feeling 100. At least Cai found the sore and placed the poultice he was given on it, so hopefully it won't plague him forever. Now that he is awake, Cai gets him set up in his chair with some tea and breakfast before he goes over to get little Elly set up with something to eat.

Nima had slept leaning against a tree with Kieryn on her lap and her handmaid beside her watching warily until she realized Kieryn was entirely too sick for anything. Now that it is a new day, and she is waking as the rest in the camp are, she bends her legs, stiff from sitting in one position all night. "Kieryn, how are you feeling?" Then automatically seeking Eldan and Elly and Altair.

Luna chuckles, then dips her head toward the merchant. "You are absolutely correct. That being said, please recall that age does not automatically equate with wisdom. Experience counts for more, and even then, it depends upon the subject." With an easy smile, she adds, "Thank you."

Kieryn blinks as the first thing he sees when he wakes up is Nima's face and smile. He must still be dreaming and he shrugs a little, "I feel about the same, though I am in a bit better mood I think. I am sorry how I was acting last evening, I am just tired of feeling sick and let it overcome me I guess." he gives her a smile as he begins to sit up slowly a little dizzy as he does so, but he glances around for the others as well, "How are you lovely desert flower?" yeah he must be ok, he's flirting again at least it seems.

Venan roots about in the equipment he was setting aside to leave behind and carries a bottle over to Luna, "Be mindful, it has some kick to it." The bottle contains strong cider. "I like to think the best of folks, especially them what have a few years behind them. Saves time and makes me a happier man."

"Think the best of them, but do not entrust your life to them out of hand unless it is necessary." Luna glances at the cup, then looks about the camp. Her gaze suddenly focuses on the far edge of the encampment. With a furrowed brow, eyes still trained on that distant point, she absently finishes her train of thought. "And drinking a strange, unverified brew may well fall under that category. At least, in my experience." Who knew a priestess could be surrounded by such danger?

Eldan eats his breakfast, then looks over at Kieryn. He catches Kieryn's answer to Nima, so decides not to ask the same question again. He hands over his dishes when he is finished to Cai, and smiles at Elly. He waits for Cai to clean her up and then holds out his arms for her to come to him. He doesn't like having her far from him these days.

Venan laughs, "You've an odd sense of caution, priestess." He coughs again then extinguishes his pipe putting it away. "Goin to be a long couple of days, I'm thinking." He takes off his hat and pushes his hair back before resettling it again, "Folks been sayin a fair number of odd things past couple of days, what with the visions goin round and odd humours. Were almost regetting that I'd not get the chance to enjoy granting my tongue the same liberty, seems that were a concern I'd not need have had." He takes a rope and loops it around one of the mule's saddles and wraps it loosely around his wrist so neither he nor the mule can go stray when the troop sets out. "There's some cured meat left if any should wish it."

"We found another horse!" A servant cries out. "Make that two horses they are alive and well." It is starting to get muggy already. Frogs begin to sing. One hops on by Elly it is bright blue and green with splashes of red on it. A caterpillar covered with lots of brightly colored hair inches its way across a leaf.

Kieryn says, "smiles to Nima and then he stands and goes over to sit beside his brother and he gives Elly a hug and kiss on the cheek, "Hi Elly" he tells his niece. "What are you up to? Anything fun?""

Eldan is glad that horses have been found. He's pretty sure he can get one for the wagon, if nothing else because now that he isn't completely ill more people can be put in the wagon so less horses are needed. Eldan seems distracted currently by something, though there doesn't seem to really be anything that most can see in the direction he is looking. He keeps a good arm around Elly, wanting to keep her in his lap. Elly, looks up at Kieryn, "Hey Uncle Kieryn. I not doing anything. Are we gonna get there soon?" Well all this travel is working on the youngest Mowbray.

Victoria wanders in, cloak wrapped tightly about her, steps staggering, the woman wheezing heavily as she stops just within the camp, "I ain't found none." Offered out amidst a coughing fit, Huntress moving in further, tugging off her gloves and stuffing them in an inner pocket of her cloak, hard swallow done against the back of her hand before another cough wracks her. Stabbitystabstab - her lungs feel on fire. But she will shuffle her way to go and help with the loading of supplies, not much of a help but gives it a good go.

Then frog hops closer to Elly. They continue on with their chorus. A toucan calls out and it shows off its plumage and its long beak. Another bird chatters as if reminding the Toucan not to come into its tree. The forest is alive with sounds. The frog hops closer to elly and the air seems to get hotter. Shadows shift as sun move in the sky.

"For what it is worth, I grant your tongue full liberty with me, so long as it remains respectful to my person and the Eight," Luna offers amicably to Venan. Still, she is quite distracted, and eventually sips the hearty spirit while forcibly blinking her eyes. Only a small, dainty cough escapes her, indicating perhaps some familiarity with the beverage. After setting the cup down, her legs move almost of their own accord toawrd that far edge of the camp as she stares unblinkingly at… something.

Venan looks over at Luna and sparks a bright grin with it's dark spot, "Thank ya for the absolu…" he trails off, "Oi, priestess?" He coughs but unwraps his hand from the lead, "Oi! Don't you go off and dreaming on me now." He looks around to see if anyone else is drifting. He puts his fingers in his mouth and blows a whistle that'll send a dagger into the brain of a sober person and with the number of headaches going around should be absolute torture to most. "See to your own, Jungle be playin tricks with our priestess. Traveling only works if we're all moving in the same direction."

Kieryn nods to Elly and gives her a smile, "Yeah, of course we'll be home soon. You miss aunt Tamsin?" he grins to Elly and then peers up at his brother and winks. "You know we still need to show Princess Nima your uncle's ship on the way home too."

Eldan holds tightly to Elly, though not enough to hurt her. Eldan will be even more protective after this trip. She may never be allowed to walk again. Eldan is quiet as he holds Elly, his attention remaining focused elsewhere. Elly seems contect to sit in her father's lap and talk to her uncle, "Yeah, I miss my bed too. I don't like sleeping in the wagon no more." It's no longer the great adventure it started out being, "Seeing your ship would be cool too. I'm sure Princess Nima would like it lots."

Hands go up to touch tightly to her ears, Victoria sending a baleful look Venans' way, though a respectful nod will be given to Luna as she walks by. Into the camp she will go, easing her way back to the fire, dropping down to her knees and glancing off into the distance through the fire, leeching the warmth as she listens to the conversations around her.

Luna halts at the sound of the whistle, but keeps her gaze trained where it is. With an edge to her voice, she calls out, "The last time the jungle was /playing tricks/, as you say, those /tricks/ decided to shoot darts at our mounts and wound them. Do not assume that something does not exist simply because /you/ do not see it, master merchant." With that, she continues on her path until she moves close enough to ask the thing only she (and perhaps Elly) seems to notice, "Are we disturbing you?"

Frogs move closer one of them hops across Nima's shoe. This one is purple and green and once again it has splashes of red. It does not pause nor is it phased it just keeps moving towards his Eldan and Elly. The horses that have been caught being to snort and paw the earth, they are getting skittish.

Venan says, "Seems a dirty trick, but still a trick." He squints and looks where she's looking then shrugs when she starts talking to nothing. He coughs a few times, "Seems it's your turn to go a bit curious, don't worry, I'll not hold it against you as you were kind enough to absolve me already."

Eldan glances over at the horses and keeps his grip on Elly. The last time the horses got skittish they ended up running off. Cai moves closer to his charges, his nerves on edge as he looks around for signs of danger. Eldan looks around the camp, "If everyone has eaten then perhaps we should move a bit further along the path. We should have enough horses if some people double up." Mainly those who don't need to be fighting ready. And basically the wagon can hold himself, Elly, Kieryn, Altair, Nima, and Nima's handmaiden… as well as Cai and the other servant that was brought with the group largely to drive the wagon. The whole place makes Eldan nervous.

Luna's brow lifts considerably at the reaction of the creature the others seem unable to see. Attempting to be diplomatic, she presses her palms together and dips her head in a clearly reverential manner, as though she were addressing a king. Even her fellow clergymen are looking at her askance now. "We wish only to pass through here in peace." Her arms motion smoothly toward the group of people, then point toward the way out of the jungle.

Victoria listens to the tone of Eldan, and even in her fevered state she can understand the seriousness to it. Easing up slowly from her spot by the fire she will move back towards her pack, slinging it up over her shoulder with a heavy grunt. A little of a wobble this way, then that, and she will reach down for her bow and quiver, slinging one on her back, the other held at her side, gaze shifting to try and look off into the forest.

Venan starts his mules moving along with some of the guards, "As you say, milord." He coughs a few more times then takes up the trace and walks along with the mules. "Mistress Victoria, care to walk beside me for a time, I'm looking forward to a grand vision shortly and can think of few things I'd rather have inspiring my fantasy than your company."

As the mules and others begin to move along the hundreds of frogs hop along and seem to fill the area. There is manic laughter, tiny but quiet but it is there. More frogs appear.

Victoria kicks at the frogs with her boots, grimacing heavily before her gaze turns upwards to look to Venan, eyebrows raising, "I'm sorry, what?" A blink as a flurry of wings suddenly batters into the air, Nelan landing on the womans shoulder, one clawed toe tugging onto the hood of her cloak, "Mmmm? Oh, certainly, of course, of course." Murmured, the Huntress steadying her stride to make time with Venan, bow held closely to her chest as things tickle at her ears, causing her to turn her head, hearing the frogs in tune with something else.

Luna sniffs indignantly as the maniac male laughter begins. Turning on her heel, she comments to nobody in particular, "How rude and crude he is!"

Venan coughs and pats his pockets till he finds his pipe. He sets the stem in his teeth, "You ever get the feeling that there are gods laughing at you?" He inquires as he works a pouch of weeds loose to stuff his pipe. "I can't stand that feeling, thankfully I find myself entirely amusing so most often I feel they're laughing along with me." He chuckles till it devolves to a fit of coughing, once clear of the most recent fit he works at getting the pipe lit while he's walking.

Once they begin to move, Eldan is placed back in the wagon, along with Elly. It is likely Kieryn, Nima, and Altair join them to cut down on horses needed. Eldan keeps Elly close to him the whole time, only willing to let her go to Kieryn or Nima or Cai. He'll be so very happy when the whole trip is over and finished.

"No, not laughing at me. Conspiring. They can be cruel. Just as much as they can be loving, in whatever capacity tha-" Hack hork snort cough, wheeze, hiss, snnkktt, "Sh-ttt.. Cap-acity. They are able." The Huntress wheezes amidst coughing, her bow slung up and over her shoulder to free her hand which comes up to press to her chest beneath her cloak, faint smirk playing over her lips, "Perhaps they enjoy you more."

Venan nods, "Oh, aye…the goddesses love a man with a fine ass, and I've four." He pats Daisy affectionately, "You've a fine as too, though, but maybe the gods are pickier."

Venan shakes his head, "That, didn't come out quite the way I meant it." He tilts his hat back to run his forehead before tugging it back into place.

"Eh, when you've five fine asses in all, competing against a mere one, the larger numbers will always win out." Victoria murmurs, boots crunching through the forest floor as they walk, "Not a worry, I'll shuffle it with the other things I shant remember once this trip is done, hmmm?"

Venan takes a shuffle step to put himself back into cadence, "Kindly of you, Mistress. Though be careful, I do have my stick within reach if you get overly familiar." He gestures to the walking stick stuck into the pack of the mule ahead of himself. "Were just speakin of it a bit earlier." He shuffle steps again before adopting a more determined plod, "Though I suppose you give a man long enough he'll start bragging about his stick sooner or later."

"Bragging or desperately trying to hide it while bandying about another object in it's stead." Said as she eases a hand out to one of his mules to touch her hand against it's neck, fingertips gently mussing against it's hide, "Ah, dear V, if I were to get overly familiar with you, it would send you into dreams you would wish you wouldn't wake from." Teasingly murmured, though her attention is ahead, on their path, "What've you got in that pipe anyhow."

Venan turns his attention to the pipe again and loses a step that he has to shuffle to catch up, "I don't know…nice old woman, sold it to me. Was doing well by it till we lost the horses then I let it go out." He starts trying to light it again the previous effort having been forgotten at some point, "As for my dreams, Mistress, if you were bein overly familiar with me then I'd regret ever dream as time wasted that could have been spent with you." He gets tugged forward having stopped to concentrate on his pipe and rhetoric. A few quick steps later he's back alongside Victoria.

"Oh please, wasted whacking me over the head with that stick o'yours. Rather you dream than cause me more pain than I'm already in." All said with good nature, the Huntress padding along, chest rising and falling slowly as she smiles to herself, head shaking slowly, "Nice old lady, hmmm? What you're smoking smells pleasant enough, 'erbs to ward away the sickness, then?" When she's ill, and tired, her Forrester accent comes out strong, slight drawl to her tone that's pleasant enough, despite the hacking cough that seems to follow it.

Venan nods, "Aye, bitter and cold to ward off the fever." He remembers that he was working on the pipe and gets it going again. He puffs a cloud up for himself again but starts coughing, "Ah, did well enough when the humours were fighting in the air about me, but not so kindly when fighting in my chest." He draws a breath then reaches for his skin that had been filled with the strong tea. He takes a swallow of the tea, "Ah…delicious."

After Storytime

Venan coughs a bit as he trudges along, "…an that…is how Jack the Rabbit outfoxed Inouv and made off with Jill the Deer, his dearest." He shakes his head then pushes back his hat to rewet the bit of cloth hanging over his forehead before tugging the hat back down. "Now, t'said that Jack never recovered from the stag party Jill the Deer's brother, Buck, threw him, but…" he coughs, "…I happen to know, heeeee" the last sound rattling into a forceful intake of air, "did cause, the Buck sings like a bird after drinkin like a fish."

Once more, Luna glances about, hoping to find a good excuse to escape the pun-filled tales of the ill Venan. Suddenly, her eyes alight and she smiles secretively. Head swiveling toward the man, her jungle-afro following suit, the priestess asks, "Do you feel lightheaded, master merchant? Any dizziness or shortness of breath, aside from directly after coughing? I fear the jungle fever may have gone to your head." Her tone is pure sympathy, despite the mischief in her gaze.

Venan turns his head 'round to look at Luna, "Priestess, I get a bit lightheaded and short of breath every time I look at ya." He coughs a few times then says, "Reminds me, of a story 'bout Buck the Horse." He gestures but the leather strap he's got on his wrist to keep him from falling behind as he walks beside the horse tugs him a step to the side when he does. "Jus mentioned Buck, Jill's brother, ye'll remember. Good fella, never did understand why he were called the Horse but all the girls assured me that was his nickname." He takes a breath to start into his next story but it seems that the intro would be a bit too much for his lung capacity and he starts coughing again.

Venan looks entirely confused as he stares at the horse. "Somethin, not quite…" He gets tugged again by the strap and stumbles forward. His expression brightens as he realizes he's supposed to be walking next to a mule, not a horse, and shuffle steps to catch up to the proper animal giving him much more slack on the strap.

Luna pins the man with a flat stare at his first words, although she cannot hide the twitch at the corner of her lips when he speaks of the protagonist's byname. As unladylike, and un-priestess-like, as it may be, a warm, rolling laugh fills the air when the man realizes he is beside the wrong beast. Moving up a bit quicker to bring herself next to him, she quips, "Mayhaps you should save your flirtations for dear old Daisy to prevent her from running off like that. I daresay the girl is jealous."

Venan pats the mule, "Ah, who's she to be jealous. She's bein ridden by some handsome guardsman she only met this morning." The mules have been serving as relief mounts for those faring worse with the illnesses than Venan himself. "Ca…" he cuts off as he hacks a cough, "Can't be upset with me." He rasps before drinking another swallow of the bitter tea he's carrying. "Asides, I'm not flirtin, you asked, I answered, can't be blamed for you bein a fetchin lass."

"Indeed, you cannot. Try not to curse the Eight for failing to make me a haggard crone with a large hooked nose and puss-filled boils all about my person, though." Luna's smirk returns, her gaze shifting to the drink. "That tea seems not to have helped you in the least, master merchant. Would you care for a bit of my healing instead?"

Venan says, "I prefer ta think…it has helped me tremendously, I'm still walkin." He isn't at the moment but the tug of the leash a moment later corrects this. "Though I don't see why ya worf." He coughs again, "Worry over bein pretty. Can appreciate a pretty girl what's not available. I mean ya don't see me humpin every well sculpted statue and I can still say they're beautiful." He gestures grandly or attempts to, gets tugged, shuffle steps along then says, "Though I'd welcome any comfort ya be willin ta give."

Luna quirks a brow at the idea the strange brew has been of any use to the man. With a light shake of her head, she says in a business-like tone, "We should be stopping soon. When we do, I shall need to inspect you from head to toe to ensure I am aware of all ailments. Only then can I effectively treat you." As though unable to remain serious for too long, mirth slips into her voice when she continues. "As for the other matter, all I can say is I have never seen you near beautiful statues, so I cannot predict how you might react."

Venan says, "I thought the ones in Jadda were quite lovely, actually." He coughs a bit, "As for inspecting my ailments, will I need to bring out my stick or will you be behavin and just take my word on what ails me." He takes another slug from the skin holding his tea, makes a face, chews then swallows. "Them little gods ya were talkin to a bit earlier, they didn't forbid me for ya, did they?" He draws another breath, "Could be troublesome if they did, amusing…but troublesome."

Luna suppresses both a groan and an eyeroll, managing to lightly arch her brow. "I will check you myself, but shall be as uninvasive as possible." There is a flicker in those green eyes before she glances off toward the heart of the jungle. "They were not gods." Her voice is quiet and subdued, for once. "The man — if he can be called such — was simply the leader of those strange, and I beleive poisonous, frogs. A filthy, crass, crude little man." Her lips twist in momentary anger, before smoothing once more.

Venan walks along quietly for a while, "Best I just see to myself then, priestess. Ain't had any hurts I can't describe and not so far gone that I can't describe my hurts." He coughs a few more times, "So, if a man ain't a man and commands the frogs, what sort of thing is he if not a god?"

Venan is fending Luna off by threatening her with his stick. The march has not done him a world of good and he's been tugged along by the strap securing him to the mules on a number of occassions. He remains cheerfully lucid, or at least conversationally delusional.

Letting out a small sigh, Luna nods. "I will listen to your descriptions, then, but I warn I may be less effective." Wrinkling her nose, "He was… a creature of the jungle. Not a god, to be certain, but one of Umbra's servants."

Victoria has managed to catch a few winks, slouched over something that was attached to another thing that was moving. Snork. A sliding skiff behind a wagon, truly a wonderous ride, but one she's waking up from now. Right within conversational distance of Luna and Venan, "S'that what's been stalkin' us?" Asked blearily, the woman remaining as is, on her back, scarf pushed off her face a bit to give sight to her eyes, slow blinking done as she tries to orient herself.

Venan makes a little puzzled strangling sound then coughs again, "I weren't aware there were a difference. Thought there were just us, the fae, and the gods." He empties the last of his skin of tea into his mouth and chews the wad of leaves contemplatively. He spits then says, "As fer me…"

<FS3> Venan rolls Apothecary: Success.
Venan describes his symptoms with commendable accuracy.

Venan falls back as he hears Victoria waking and hands her the skin of tea he brewed for her while in camp, "Oh, an my fever do seem to get worse when I come near this woman, I think our humours are as compatible as we are not."

"I do not believe so, no," Luna says to Victoria. After listening to Venan, she purses her lips and thinks for a moment. It takes a moment before she gives her recommendations. "I have the ingredients in my bags, mostly, and the rest can be procured from the jungle itself, I believe."

Venan nods sagely. Venan pushes the little curly leaf trying to escape from his chewing wad back into his mouth. Bad sage, bad.

"Oh please - " Victoria will murmur, reaching out for the skin and bringing it to her lips to drink slowly of the tea within, feeling every bump and cajole of the road as she's dragged across it behind the wagon, "I believe mine gets worse when /you/ come near." A glance to Luna, the skin dropped against her chest, exhaling out a little wheeze, "Oh, you've a cure for our ailments?"

Venan nods, "Shee" He coughs a bit then spits about half the wad of leaves he's chewing out. "See," he attempts again, "she admits it, she's gets the hots for me." He coughs, chokes, spits out the balance of his leaves then gets tugged by the mules and has to shuffle step along while choking. "Suck a duck." He mewls after he manages to sort out the difference between breathing and swallowing.

A small shake of the head is all Venan receives from the priestess. "I have been healing those with the worst jungle illness, but our merchant friend here has contracted something else." Luna waves a dismissive hand and grins. "It will be far easier to cure and the medicine will not be nearly as vile as that which many here have to endure. I apologize for the taste, but I have nothing to mask it." Despite the smile, her tone sounds genuinely sympathetic. "How are you feeling today, as compared to yesterday?" Her gaze turns inquisitive on the female hunter.

Victoria drinks a bit more of the tea, drawing in a deep breath then as she chuckles, eyes rolling briefly before she closes her eyes, enjoying the feel of the ride as it hits all her sore spots, "Haven't they a word for that sort of affliction …delusions or some such …" Murmured in response to Venan, smirk playing on her lips, a turn of her head bringing Luna into her vision, tea once again plopped against her chest as she untucks a heel and stretches her leg out, boot heel dragging across the ground now, "When was yesterday? I haven't the faintest …hot, cold ..can't keep food down worth a boot - every time I stand …I feel as if I'm going to plant right into the ground for next seasons crops."

Venan is a bit raspy from choking as he replies to Victoria, "They call it hope, Mistress." He coughs a few more times then uses the strap connecting himself to Daisy to gain ground, reeling himself in like a fish till he can get at the packs. A few moments spent hunting then he unties one of the flasks and lets himself slow till he's even with Victoria again, "As fer the taste, priestess, ya don't worry about that. I've had my foot in my mouth often enough there's not likely to be much worse I can taste." He gestures forward, "I am walkin behind a quartet a mules ya know."

Although Luna chuckles lightly at Venan's comment, her concern seems to overshadow her mirth. Pace slowing, the priestess waits until she is a bit behind Victoria before peering at the woman's face while they move. Pert lips turn into a soft frown and her brow draws towaard the center of her forehead. "Have you had the paste recently? Well, you lack a concept of time at the moment, so I must assume not." She pulls a satchel from her mount's sidesaddle, then roots around for a small container. "Aha! Here we are."

"That's the word …" Victoria says, snapping her fingers loosely, faint smile on her lips as she shakes her head, "Ah which? Paste? I've had …tea ..bathed in tea …" Slowly nodding her head in response to Luna she will struggle to try and sit up before a wave of nausea runs over her and she collapses back down, eyes closing tightly as she coughs mightily. Hack, cough, hack, "Nelan wouldn't shut up last night, either. Kept jabbering at me about mice an' ferrets, said they're much plumper closer to the forests of home, whinged the whole time at me while preening his feathers, like t'was my fault or some such." Mutter mumble.

Venan chuckles, "She had a bit of the paste as well, she were just hoping real hard at that point." He coughs and spits again, "Been a while now though." He looks up at the sky then back down, "Best to dose her again, priestess, it's amusing to watch if nothing else." He keeps shuffling on, "Oh, an what sort a thing do ya plan on giving me?"

"Be nice to this woman in pain, merchant, else I may mix in some of the aromatic essence found on the sole of your boot into your medicine." Luna sniffs primly, then turns her attention to Victoria once again. Carefully, she measures out a deep spoonful of the ill-tasting paste from the clay pot and holds it out. "Open your mouth and stick out your tongue," she instructs. "It is best to swallow it all at once, then chase it with whatever drink wipes away the flavor."

Victoria finds herself really liking this priestess, even in her state, an amused curve touching her lips as she does as she's told, sticking her tongue out to take the disgusting paste, her tea at the ready. And when the paste is given she will quickly swallow it, chasing it down with the tea and trying not to sputter from the bitter taste. When she recovers she'll hoarsely thank the priestess, a glance given to Venan, "Wait till I'm up and at 'em."

Venan watches Victoria with the paste and tea and glances down to the flask he freed from the horse. He works the wax seal off the metal container then uncorks it. He sidesteps a few time until he's close to her conveyance then offers it to her. "M'bein nice." He says sulkily, "Ain't been nothing but nice." The little flask contains a distilation flavored like licorice. "Mind the kick, and little sips." He coughs a few times then chuckles, "This be the brew that do bring a sensible girl to your bed if you beckon. Fortunately, I've no bed and there's no room for me in hers."

Unable to fight the deep smirk begging to break through, Luna quips while she puts the medicine away, "Has it never occurred to you, master merchant, that some women may not join your bed in that manner, no matter the influence or price?"

Victoria drops the tea skin to free up her hands, reaching out with one for the wrist of Venan as he offers that flask, fingertips light and cold, "I know, I'm just teasing, you've been nothing but kind to me, Goddesses know why." Yes, a moment of lucidity, the Huntress releasing his wrist, should he have allowed her to capture it in the first place, before the flask is taken and small sips are taken, listening to Luna with a chuckle, "And yet, dare I say dear Priestess, that there are some who would with nary a complaint no acceptance of coin for the pleasure." A cough, then another sip, "Thankfully no room in mine .." Echoing his last words with a smirk, her eyes half-lidding.

Venan smirks, "Aye, priestess, for I've my fearsome stick to protect me, but what yer probably wantin to know is if I've ever considered that a woman might not wish to." He coughs a few times, "A possibility which has never crossed my mind or theirs."

"Of that I have no doubt, Hunter," Luna acknowledges Victoria's retort with a smirk. Upon hearing Venan's words, her brow lifts. "Then I am honored to be the one to break that streak, master merchant. I have neither the desire, nor the inclination to rut with you."

Venan waves his hand dismissively at the priestess, "Ye've not seen my bed…it's glorious. Silken sheets and goose down." He then swings back over towards Victoria pendulous on the end of his tether, "Asides, I just said a girl'd want to come to bed, you're the one what's thinking of rutting with me." He tsks as he reels himself back in to Daisy, "Naughty-naughty."

Venan's Doom

Venan gets his pipe lit and smokes up a fresh cloud of bittersweet smoke. The young merchant has such an aire of meloncholy and around him that even the smoke of his pipe seems heavier than normal sinking to the ground in depression.

Victoria fell asleep mid-conversation with the poor Priestess, and now awakes in the darkness as the road is travelled, still on her skif, bouncing along lightly with the road taken. A hand weaves up to tug down her scarf, the flask she had earlier still with her and sipped from. Down her head will go, woman curled up in her cloak, watching then those on the road around her silently, light brown gaze happening upon Venan. It's not far of a reach, enough to find something to tug, and Victoria is giving a tug, "S'what 'as yer spirits so dashed, Vee-naan. So low, 'nuff t'bring me down wit' you." Murmured into her scarf, a sniff taken in.

Venan looks at Victoria for a few moments, then unwinds the trace from his hand so he can walk closer to her. He puffs contemplatively on his pipe a few times then removes it and blows a stream of smoke up. He takes his hat off his head, removes his pipe from his mouth, gestures pointedly at the sky, opens his mouth and "…h…" there might have been a little hiss that came out as he talks at length about his woes. When he's finished he pushes his hat back down on his head and crams his pipe back into his mouth. It seems the priestess was correct in her estimation, the affliction he is suffering from is not the fevers that brought low the other men, the little merchant is entirely without voice.

Victoria hoarsely laughs, sympathy plainly written on her features as she shifts on the skiff being pulled by the wagon, easing back enough to offer a spot for the man to sit, patting the place between her knees and just behind her ankles, "Oh no, the Gods must truly be laughing at you, taking your favorite instrument from you. Come. Ride with me. Rest. I'll fill your ear with talk enough to send you off to sleep."

Venan eyes Victoria for a few moments then picks up the pace for a moment until he draws even with Daisy. He works his stick free of the pack then brings it back with him and brandishes it towards her menacingly. He points to himself, he points to her, he points to her skiff, then shakes his head negatively. The next bit of pantomime is a bit harder to interprit, it seems he'd like to be thrown by a trebuchette into a wall made of pudding.

Laughingly Victoria will raise up her hands, waving them in the air before they drop down to her knees, "Sweet toes of Inouv, I wasn't /trying/ anything, you'd think that of /me/?!" A mockingly offended look is given to Venan and with a huff Victoria will roll/hop off the skiff which is moving slow enough not to cause her injury as she hits the road and pops up, coughing mightily though she will wave at the skif now as she begins to walk behind it, "There, merchant, set your backside down and relax."

Venan points to his eye for a moment, then clasps his hands together palm to palm as one would in temple. He then points to Victoria. Finally he points to his stick, the side of the wagon, and one of the passing trees.

Victoria hasn't the faintest what Venan is trying to gesture, eyebrows raising up, woman doing a little twist as she sniffles, brow tugging close down into a frown, "You afraid somethings' going to attack us and you need to ..be ready or …you're praying for my mortal soul?" See, she's terrible at this game. Just terrible.

Venan looks upward to the sky, then points to his occular cavity once mor and waits for her to guess.

Victoria blinks, still walking slowly, her cloak unclasped and folded up before she tosses it into the cart. Stretching out her limbs a little she'll hazard a guess, "Ah, you can see …things?"

Venan shakes his head then points above his cheekbone and below his eyebrow, he then points towards the same on the horse, and to the knot on a potato from the provisions.

Victoria stares blankly - She never claimed to be the most intelligent of women, completely riding through in life relying on her beauty and her hunting/tracking skills bestowed upon her by Skyforest. And now she's a bit rueful at the fact. She always hated this game as a child. Pressing hands back through her knotted hair she'll give a grunt of frustration, winding fingers through her hair with a look of defeat, "I don't know, ahh ..I'm sorry, Venan, I haven't the faintest what you're trying to relate. What you've and the horse to do with a potato. .."

Venan sets the potato down, walks over to Victoria and grins then reaches up to tug at her sleeves so she looses her fingers from her hair. He then waves his hands about dismissing the effort entirely. He shuffles up to Daisy and roots around till he finds a very small packet. He brings it back to Victoria and opens it revealing several broken pieves of dark brown chocola. He takes a tiny piece and pops it into his mouth before presenting the packet to Victoria if she'd like a piece.

Victoria feels like an idiot, and due to that her cheeks are bright red, lips pursing a but before they pull to the side, gaze dropping down. Hands will drift out from her hair and reluctantly she'll reach for the chocolate, avoiding looking at Venan as she takes a small piece, fingertips plucking it out, the piece brought to her mouth where she'll set it under her tongue, hands pressing into the pockets of her pants as she patters along behind the wagon.

Victoria manages a rough, "Thanks."

Venan twists the small packet shut and stows it once the pricey treat has been shared. He also returns his stick to it's place amongst the packs. He returns to her and smiles at the thanks. He pushes his hat back to fix his hair then tugs the brim back down. A quick rub of the scruffy chin is given as he tilts his head to the side so he can look at Victoria as he walks along. After a bit of consideration he shrugs then extends his hand towards her.

Victoria is lost in thought for the moment, kicking along the road, the chocolate savoured, allowed to slowly melt under her tongue. A glance off to the side as the hand comes into view and she'll flush deeply, nodding her head as hands come up to feel along her chest, a few laces on her top undone as fingertips dip in, quickly digging in for a pouch that she snags out, quickly spilling coins into the palm of her left hand, "Just a moment - I ..always forget the prices."

Venan blows out a breath between his lips, "Pbpbpbpbpb." He then carefully reaches over and places his hand on top of Victoria's so they're palm to palm. He turns their hands over a bit to the side and gives a little shake so that the coins will fall out into his waiting hand below. He'll then reach across to put the coins back into the pouch in her right hand. He keeps hold of her left hand in his right and when all is done continues to hold it as they walk along, until she shakes him off, punches him, stabs him, etc.

There is a certain disarming disinterest about Venan that allows him to make statements about women that would get another man drawn and quartered. However for a moment as Victoria is tucking her gold away Venan's considerable curiousity is singularly focused. You can almost hear someone yelling, 'There's gold in them thar hills.' Venan shakes his head and tears his eyes away from the treasured chest. He focuses on Victoria's face then shrugs, gives her hand a little squeeze, and continues marching along.

Victoria shakes her head with a self-depreciating grin, "You know why she asked you, yes? You tolerate me. I'm quite the beast when unless, completely irrational and full of sourness and spite." Said as she gives Venan a sidelong glance, amber gaze softening as she squeezes his hand back, bottom lip tucking upwards as she eases into a matched pace with him, bringing herself up along him so that she's shoulder to shoulder with him, "If asked, you know, I'd have asked for you anyhow. You've an aura about you. I enjoy it. Though I'm sorry you're to be stuck with me." Rabble rabble.

Venan follows along as best he can, while he's certainly not suffering the way the others did he's still not in top form. He shakes his head as she calls herself sour and spiteful, then shrugs when she says he's got an aura. Eventually he works his little flask free and takes a few sips, then passes it to Victoria if she'd like some of it.

Victoria has tempered her pace, and tempers it more so they're at a plodding pace. A lackadaisical smile will brush across her lips and she'll shake her head a little, "I find myself missing your voice, how strange. Some tart reply or other disarming word to send me off." Right hand will come around and she will grasp his arm attached to the hand holding hers, drawing in a deep breath noisily and exhaling it out just as loudly, glancing to the flask as it comes up, "You know, I owe you quite a bit for this trip. Seems I ended up needing you more than you needed me, and all the care you've given me. I'll hunt for you during the winter to pay back your kindness-" A tip of the flask once she's plucked it away, grateful look on her features as it's brought to her lips, slow sip taken. But a small one. And back it goes to him, hand returning to his arm to grasp it, "I've tanned hides I could give you if you'd prefer, as well."

Venan puts the cork back into the flask and secures it to his belt, he pats her hand gently as they walk along. When she speaks of paying him back he laughs making a small hiccup noise and waves his hand pointing towards her bow.

Venan considers then holds up his hand. He points to her, points to the bow, then brings up his arm as if drawing back a bow, then…he waves his hands again. Making an annoyed hiss through the missing tooth in frustration.

And there it is; a snorting laugh that suddenly rips from Victoria's lips as she nearly doubles over with the sound that fetters out of Venan in the form of that hiccup noise. Her hand tightens on Venans as she gives him a companionable bump with her hip, unable to form a phrase for a good minute as she laughs, staring at him with a wide teeth baring smile, tongue tip bitten down on between her teeth as she tries to quell it. Finally the laughter will drift off into a series of chuckles then a sigh, "I'm going to pretend that …was a 'thank you Victoria for using your mighty bow to hunt game for me'." Quick wink given his way before she looks to the skif, "Why don't you lay down a bit, we can still talk and I can pretend you're wooing me."

Venan makes the 'pbpbpbp' noise again, as he has few options of expression at this point. He eyes her as she tries to put him to bed again, then shrugs and nods. He holds up his hand though and points to Victoria mouthing the word, "You." He then shakes his head and mouths, "No." He then grins a little and gives a tug with his hand in a curious manner to pull her off balance and towards him that results in…
<FS3> Venan rolls Dancing: Success.
…a quick spin around as he circles his arm around her waist then sets her steady while he mouths, "Dance." He then points to the woods, and when she returns her attention to him mouths, "Trees."
<FS3> Venan rolls Body: Failure.
Venan's expression indicates that he's damn near the end of his rope as he sways a bit.

Victoria can't let go of the potato for some reason, and for a brief moment wonders if this has to do with that. As the party continues to trundle along slowly, the Huntress will watch his hand as it moves, amber eyes finding his mouth and the words he forms with it, finally able to understand him, "Me, no?" A laugh then, oh so soft, so as not to wake the slumbering, "I was just tea-" She tries to assure him but is cutoff as he tugs her, the woman not on her game and not nearly as quick as she would usually be, tumbling into the pull, her eyes widening. Finding herself going into a quick spin and then finding his arm about her waist she will stare up at the gap-toothed man, a bit bewildered. Dance. Then to the forest where she squints a look, then back to Venan. As much as what he's indicating tickles her, concern creases her features and she will put a steadying hand up to the mans chest, her head shaking, her steps circumventing and lead to the forest to instead lead him towards the skif she's been sleeping on, "Venan." Softly, gaze searching his face, "We'll dance tomorrow with the trees." A promise, though she's clearly angling to get him into the skif, "For now, you sleep. Come. Lay down for me."

Venan closes one eye studying her with the other to cut down on the number of Victorias. After a few more moments he nods in agreement and puts a hand on the side of the skiff, when the next nearly smooth stretch allows he lowers himself into it. He's barely got himself knotted in before both his eyes close.

Victoria will keep pace with the skiff, one knee pressing into the side of it once Venan is in to grab her cloak, left foot dragging behind her as she unfolds it and shakes it out, covering Venan with it and tucking it in around him, checking his work at the knots before undoing them and securing them much more tidily, ensuring he won't flip out accidently. As his eyes close she reaches out to press a hand to his forehead, fingertips lightly pressing back into his hair to smooth it out of the way. Down the hand goes to his cheek and she'll give it a gentle pat before easing up out of the skif with a dancing twist, taking up a walk beside it now, leaving the man to sleep as she wills her own body to keep awake till morning.

Wise men and philosophers spend a great deal of time coming up with questions which have no obvious answer. The sound of one hand clapping? If a tree falls in the forest and no-one is around to hear it, does it make noise? Can fish sneeze? These are pointless nonsense compared to the great truth that is revealed to Victoria as she walks beside Venan that evening, the sound of a voiceless man, talking in his sleep.

Victorias fever rises up now that Venan isn't in a capacity to mother-hen her so justly, and so as she's walking alongside the skif she will take those silent secrets, adding in her own through mumbling words and occasion snippets of song, the cries of birds out in the night causing her to engage in conversation with them, relaying to them bits of gossip here and there. The troupe continues along, and eventually she will slip onto the skif, legs quaking and shaking, the visions dancing before her eyes too much, plus the birds are cajoling her to sleep. Eyes so heavy, and the merchant won't mind. Beside, the birds reason, his stick is with his mules which are up ahead walking beside the horses of the wagon. Carefully, oh so carefully, the Huntress will curl up down the bottom of the skif, like a dog at the feet of Venan, a bit of cloak pried up through the knots to cover her as she tucks an arm under her head before drifting off to sleep.

<OOC> Venan says, "Random chance roll for chivarly!"
<FS3> Venan rolls Chance: Good Success.

It would be nice to think that deep down in Venan's subconscious there was a good an honorable man waiting for the chance to spring into action and see to Victoria's comfort. The unfortunate reality is that after a short while the pressure of Victoria weight in one spot had drawn the ropes of the skiff so tight Venan was in a great deal of pain as circulation was cut off to his legs. With many a mishap the young merchant worked most of the knots free, reached down and tugged Victoria up till she was beside him.

Victoria isn't waifish, like noble women, and no doubt the mass of her muscle and bone is quite vexing to nerves and tendons. The tugging easily draws the woman up, though she will mumble in her fevered sleep childishly how she didn't wish to be left in the moss. Covered in sweat and producing more she will clutch at Venan, whimpering softly, curling in beside him, her hair slick against her scalp and face, more fevered words, mumbled and undecipherable, creeping out through her lips, the occasional twitch and soft cry raising from her lips before a few calls from the tree lines above caress down, seemingly to soothe the Huntress who eases into a fitful sleep beside Venan, clutching his tunic as her head presses against his upper arm. She's not at her finest right now. Ruefulness at this fact will likely haunt her in the coming days once she regains lucidity.

Victoria can take some comfort in the fact that, for the upcoming week at least, Venan won't say a word about it.

Insufferable Silence

Venan shuffles along behind his mules. The last two days haven't been particularly kind to the young merchant. He's down to one pipe, the stem of which broke off at some point during the night before so he's got the shortened length clamped between his teeth with the bowl stuck out to the side.

Victoria has been off in the woods, horking up in an incredibly lady like manner, bent against a tree while the bits of meat she ate come up and fetter to the ground to be picked at by the local wildlife. Oh but it was soooo good coming up. Wiping her mouth with the back of her gloved hand she'll meander out from the forest line, walking slowly back to catch up with the party, her bow and arrows left in the skif being dragged behind the wagon that also doubles as a bed for the woman. She will pick up the pace a little, shuffling her way up beside Venan, "You've any more tea, Venan -" A hand over her mouth to shield her acidic breath from him, "Hmm?"

Probably riding along in his brother's carriage, seeing as Eldan is better, but Kieryn is still rather sick as a dog. He just pretty much lays there, not moving around too much because he just doesn't feel good. He's also still just tired of being sick and doesn't really know what else to do.

Venan nods and produces the skin of tea, at each stop he's been rebrewing the bitter batch. He hands it over to her, then pulls the little flask from his belt and passes that along as well. Only a few mouthfuls of evil remain, but it only takes a few. He puffs a few times on the pipe then has to reach up to right the barrel as it tries to twist in his mouth, he scowls, spits then chomps down on the stem again.

Victoria feels as useless as Kieryn does! Only she doesn't have a fancy carriage to ride about in, instead she's reaching out for the tea and taking a few deep drinks, sputtering a little, feeling dehydrated. Clutching the skin to her chest she'll mutter a hoarse thanks to Venan, glancing around at the others all around them, taking mental stock of who she can see that is sick as well. A hand raises away from the skin, Victoria shaking her head at his flask, sucking back another drink of the tea, "No thanks, just burns a hole in my gut .."

Kieryn sits up slowly in the back of the carriage since he just can't sleep anymore, he has done enough of that and he looks out of the flap for a few moments, "are we out of the damned jungle yet?" yeah, he doesn't think he is going to go visit any jungles anytime soon, there's just too many things to make you sick out there. He'll just stick to the sea thnk you very much.

Venan shrugs and takes a drink, at the question from Kieryn he stops walking till he can wave for Kieryn's attention. He waves a hand till he has his attention and then holds his fingers over his palm wiggling to of the fingers like a person walking. He then points up towards the sun folds his arms one over the other, and pivots his arm so his hand raises till his arm is straight up and down. He then points to the jungle and with a sweep of his arm dismisses it.

Victoria will stick to forests that aren't tropical after this trip - and cozy tree hovels, "Are you kidding, we've all decided to live here now!" Victoria announces dryly, coughing, right hand coming up to pat her chest firmly. Her steps will slow until she falls back to be able to converse with both men.

Kieryn nods some to the motions and sighs, he asks Cai to stop the carriage for a few moments and he gets out of it and decides to walk for a bit. Besides it might do him a little good to not just lay there even if he's not feeling well, "You know, I think I'll stick to the sea from now on, if I want to go see exotic locales." he snickers some.

Venan laughs near soundlessly, little hisses of air followed by gulps as he inhales. He claps his hands together and gives Kieryn a thumbs up.

Victoria curves a wide grin, her head shaking as she looks between the two men, "Probably the best idea."

Kieryn nods and chuckles some, "Much less chance of getting sick at sea, well, unless you get seasick I suppose, but that usually passes pretty fast." he shrugs and then shakes his head, "I bet we could have even taken my ship to get around this jungle. Ah well, didn't think about that before now and I guess it wouldn't have been such a grand adventure, right?" he smirks

Venan waggles his hand from side to side. He points towards his mouth and opens and shuts it trying to make noise but only a weak hiss emerges. He shrugs again.

"Honestly, I could have done without a grand adventure." Vic says with a low chuckle, taking another drink of the tea from the skin held against her chest, "Didn't think I'd be so keen for home,and yet here I am. Keening." A glance to Venan, "Fish to eat as well."

Kieryn grins and nods some and then shivers as a chill runs through him and he sighs, "Ah well, it's usually doom for a sailor when he goes along on a trip just because a pretty woman asks him to. I guess it's a weakness." he winks, "I've got a soft spot for a lovely woman though, so I couldn't just say no."

Venan tilts his hat back looking up to the sky for a moment. He then tugs the wide brimmed cap back down. He he waves his hand dismissively at Kieryn then points to Victoria, makes an hourglass in the air and wolf whistles. Then he flexes making muscles out of his loose attire. He then points to himself and lets the wind deflate his shirt-muscles.

"Women'll do that to you, every bloody time." So says the Huntress, bringing up an elbow to her mouth as she coughs into it, the Huntress careening her hip carelessly toward Venan to try and hipcheck him gently, "Watch it, merchant. I might forget to forget certain things."

Venan takes his hipcheck in stride, that is to say he staggers a bit then rights himself. Once upright again he moves forward to his mules that are still carrying those in worse conditions than he and retrieves his walking stick or more accurately his walking staff as it is enourmous.

Kieryn takes a few moments to observe Victoria and then nods to Venan, "I agree, she isn't unpleasant on the eyes either." he grins and then shrugs some. Yeah, so he's an unrelentent flirt and cad and he knows it. "and I agree, women are the downfall of most men, most of the time, but who can resist them?"

Venan raises his hand in response to the question.

Venan then points proudly to his stick, for some reason.

Making a crude gesture Victoria will unwind her scarf from about her neck and wrap it around her face and head, tugging her cloak closed and popping up the hood in reaction to both the men, "You both don't watch it and I'll find reason to practice roping with my arrows during this walk." A hacking cough then from the woman and she will do something to assure that none find her pleasant to look at as she calls up a rather large wad of spit and phlegm to spit it on the ground, kicking a bit of dirt towards it before she continues onwards. The shake of Venans stick as her snorting as well, eyes briefly rolling beneath the cowl of her hood, "Women get blamed for many things, but in the end it's the man who has the most choice, and chooses to roll with it, regardless of the effect it may have on a woman." Bitterly stated, Victoria breaking off from the group to fall back and move her way to the forest edging their path, ducking into it to enjoy the relative silence over thar.

Kieryn chuckles a little as Victoria wanders off though he blinks and then nods, "Well, she is right about that too. I suppose we men are at fault sometimes too.. even when we don't think that we are." he grins just a bit, "Though sometimes I guess they get little huffy about small things sometimes too." he shrugs, he's a sailor, but still he could be a bit nicer he supposes

Venan removes his hat, holds it over his heart and bows deeply to Victoria as she moves off into the forest. He straightens up and offers a grin towards Kieryn. He points towards Kieryn then taps his head and gives a thumbs up before putting his hat back on.

Victoria is just grouchy. She doesn't tend to be a happy camper when sick and useless. A few whistles will sound, and a lovely hawk will wing out over head, off into the forest, disappearing. A few minutes later out it darts, up into the sky, and out from the forest will come Victoria, the woman having sent her hawk off to go scouting. Gathering items to bring back to let her know how far along they are, when the scenery begins to change. And plus, well. She needs a refill of the tea.

Kieryn nods to Venan and chuckles, well at least he's a little distracted from feeling bad and he's not longer really wanting to give up. He winks at Venan, "I don't think she likes me very much, what do you think?" he rubs people the wrong way sometimes, but that's just the rogue in him he thinks. "Though i have a feeling by the time we get back to Stormvale, my sister will probably have me married off, wether i want to be or not.. to some woman I don't know."

Venan chuckles with the little hissing rasp he can manage. He takes the little metal flask from his hip and offers it to Kieryn as a condolence at the news of the marriage. The little flask contains some quite evil distilation of licorice flavored drink.

Victoria will trudge her way back, only coming in to the end of the 'some woman I don't know', wrinkling her nose a bit as she reaches out to flop the skin at Venan, remaining silent to let the men talk about their manly woes as she eases on in silence.

Kieryn chuckles and takes the flask and takes a swig, not even flinching at the taste as he's probably had worse at some taverns around the sea and such. he hands the flask back once he's done and chuckles, "that's an interesting brew."

Venan gives a little whistle and waves at Victoria. He points to the flask then opens and closes his mouth a few times making hissing noises before pointing to the flash again and making a grand sweeping gesture introducing her to Kieryn.

Victoria's lip curls and she will fall in alongside the couple once again, forcing herself to be a delightful member of the conversation, skin flicked around like one would playing with a paddle and ball, only there is no paddle, nor ball, just a flopping slosh of remaining fluid, "It'll burn a hole in your gut iffn' you're not careful." Said, Venans gesture leading her to look at Kieryn more closely, "Well. I don't think I've talked to you since we left Jadda. Ranger Victoria Skyhawk, of house Forrester, personal, one of a few, escort of Count Harmon Forrester." There, as much politeness as she can muster up. She'll even kick a foot back to manage a bit of a bow, though the motion has her staggering as she falls back, sudden roiling sensation taking over her with the sudden lowering of her head - woop. Skin is pressed to her head and she'll try to orient herself again, blinking hard as she focuses on ..where she was going —- that way. To the …right. And she goes left.

Venan gives a squawk and quick-steps over to Victoria to keep her from going too far astray. He gives another whistle then extends his hand to her. With his other hand he removes his hat and fans Victoria with it.

Kieryn nods to Victoria and he gives her his best bow, "I do not think we have at that. I am Kieryn Mowbray, youngest brother to Baron Eldan Mowbray, from Weston and Captain of the cargo ship The Rosey Dawn, one of the finest ships in our businesses fleet, if I must say so myself." yeah he's pretty proud of his ship, but then again, what good captain isn't? He looks to Victoria with concern as she starts going off in a different direction "Are you sure you don't want to ride in my brother's carriage a while? I do not think he would mind and it is comfortable.. Though I wouldn't be responsible for my niece Elly asking you half a dozen questions."

Victoria waves off any help, sliding one foot back and kneeling down as she clutches at her head, "I got them fancy pickles all trussed in lard an' I am beckoning to the warmbles." So not what she meant to say, but that's what Malaria'll do to you. Palms will press hard into her eyes and she will shake her head. Inhaling deeply she will force her way up, reaching out for the hand Venan had offered, hoping it's still there as she keeps her eyes closed, "I fine. I fine." Shaking off the offer from Kieryn, a grimace lighting her lips - The Huntress has lost a good fifteen to twenty pounds since contracting this sickness and is gaunt and just …not the picture of health. Aside from her shiny hair. Which might be shiny due to the sweats she's had, "So ..Captain ..Mowbray …I thank for the offer, but ..no. I have never been …fine company for noble sort."

Venan is there and takes Victoria's hand offering support. He pops his hat back on his head and helps her get moving again, though he does start angling her back towards the skiff they have been using to rest while moving with the caravan. Venan takes hold of his pipe as it starts to twist again and just gives it a toss out into the jungle. He points towards the skiff when they get close then points to Victoria.

Kieryn nods, "Well if you change your mind the offer is open. I know Princess Nima has been riding in it some, keeping Elly company especially while her dad was still sick.. and please, just call me Kieryn, not captain, or lord or anything like that." he chuckles, he's never been one for such titles, but then again, he's not ever considered himself a "proper" noble of any kind. "Besides, this isn't really a formal get together or anything and don't you think those who insist on such titles all the time are a bit too stuffy?" he raises an eyebrow

Not fighting Venan the Huntress will easily move to the skif and drop down into it, one knee first, leg dragging behind her, before she tugs that in too and twists around onto her back with a grunting chuckle, "You kidding me? I've been lectured by Prince Tyrel for being nude on the beach while bathing, I'm not about to get my knuckles rapped ….Count Harmon …I'll call him by his first name when I'm in his company …all you others …Stuffy or not, not 'bout to lose my 'ead to make you feel closer to us common folk." A grateful look to Venan, his skin given a little toss back to him, "Venan, if you keep mother-henning me I'm going to start calling you mum." Indeed, a quick smile given as she closes her eyes, exhaling out, arms crossing over her chest as she settles into the bumpy road the skif rides over, "So, Lord Captain, what the hells brought you to this trip."

Kieryn chuckles and just shakes his head and he salutes Victoria with a bit of a cheeky grin, "Alright, if you insist on calling me Lord Captain, then I will just have to call you Ranger Victoria, I mean, it is only fair to use your title, if you are going to do the same isn't it?" he raises an eyebrow again and snickers, which then turns into a cough and he sighs. "What brought me here? Well, Princess Nima had invited my brother the baron and his daughter, my niece to come along on the journey with her and the others. I commented that I'd like to see the desert, because I've heard that it was as vast as the sea and I wanted to see it for myself as I had never been. I promised the princess I'd show her around my ship at the docks in Stormvale when we got back. So she decided to invite me as well. The only one who didn't go was Eldan's sons, our sister Tamsin and our two younger sisters and well our brother Dayvyd, but he's off doing secret Ranger things, so we don't see him too often anyway. Tamsin stayed behind to manage the house in Stormvale and the business in Weston."

Venan rolls his eyes as he takes his waterskin and carries it over to the mules to stow it as Kieryn responds. He roots about then walks back over with a small white ovoid in his hand. He places the egg in beside Victoria clucking his tongue as he does so then makes sure her cloak is keeping her and the egg warm. He clucks his tongue a few more times as he walks along.

"Actually, the most proper form for address in that case would be Ranger Skyhawk, so you are free to use that as you will, Lord Captain-" Wheeze, then she continues on glibly, " -or bandy about any other number of slights to my name as you wish. Though I see most of you nobles are quite —" Ahhh there she trails off, the sudden appearance of the egg at her side causing her to blink up at Venan. And then as he checks on the cloak, a look of incredulity creasing her features. A blink to Keiryn, right corner edge of her lip twitching. And then Kieryn turns out to be incredible verbose and she'll reach out to clutch the outer edges of the skif at her side, steadying herself as she works through a coughing fit, words on her lips just waiting to spring out, "Oh …that all …" Huff, wheeze, then to the egg she'll go, plucking it up and giving it a shake near her ear to see if it's boiled or not, "Quite the ..tale, Lord Captain. And the reason to get stuck here." A look to Venan again as she shakes the egg, "Would you be most insulted, mother, if I ate this child?"

Venan feigns shock, then shakes his head and waves his hand dismissing the concern.

<FS3> Kieryn rolls Acting: Success.
Kieryn chuckles and he salutes Victoria again, "As you wish and so it shall be Ranger Skyhawk then." he can't help but shake his head a little though, while he doesn't mind calling others by a title he doesn't usually like being called Lord, when Captain suffices just as well.. but then again, he's also secretly a pirate. He does like the name/title he takes as his pirate personae though, since it sometimes instils fear in people who've heard of him and his pirate ship, but he's not going to tell the ranger, or the merchant, hey did you know I'm a pirate? Nope, not a good idea if he wants to keep his hide, not even his brother knows he's one though and he's keeping it that way. Though he does snicker at the chicken egg a little though.

Venan wheezes a laugh then waves moving forward to catch up with his mule Daisy.

Death of a Salesman

Venan rubs the side of his nose looking around for a few moments. He takes off his hat inspects it, puts it back on then tugs the brim down low. He pats about himself then looks a bit glum as what he's searching for isn't found. A quick check on the wellbeing of his mules and then he falls back into stillness.

Victoria has been absent for a few hours now from her skif, having gone off to the woods to relieve her poor bladder and other things that a woman apparently never does, because, well. Women. They fart rainbows. Subsequently she fell asleep against a tree and awoke nuzzling into a moss covered rock. And while it took a few minutes to wipe the sleep from her eyes, she was soon up, leaves betwixt her hair, dirt smudging her face, to wander back along the road with the aide of her hunting bird Nelan to find which direction she was to go. Once oriented properly she walked the road until she caught up, and is now entering back into the fray, her coughing having announced her a bit ago. For those who bothered to hear. And for those who didn't, the absence of the Huntress was likely missed, given her predilection towards sleeping most of the time.

Venan is bereft of his normal pass-time and as he cannot speak has had wandering eye syndrome for the better part of the day. When Victoria's cough announces her and she appears from the path rather than where he suspected she would he reverses and walks back to her. His brow is furrowed with a mixture of confusion and concern and when he's close enough he points to her and makes a helluva rasp that comes out as a just recognizeable, "Where?"

Victoria would have stopped along the way to catch up with the caravan if it wasn't for the hunting hawk brow beating the woman with his wings to keep her going. Another nap would have been lovely. Caught up in thoughts and images that her mind plays for her it's with a start that Venan is suddenly in front of her, the caravan group itself not having been entirely noticed. If allowed, she might have walked on through and onwards. Nelan is now at this point on the Huntresses shoulder, one taloned foot rested up on her ear and tangled in her hair, head twisting round to look at Venan as he rasps out. The where is what catches her most off guard, "Venan, why are you talking, save your throat." Her voice is nicely hoarse, though that warm whiskiness of it is still present as she reaches out, reversing the concern and ignoring his question.

Venan tries another go at the question, "I t…" the next sound is a disconcerting tear of a noise that brings Venan's hands quickly to his throat and a pained expression to his face. He grabs his hat off his head, throws it on the ground and stomps on it letting out an uninflected howl. His face goes quite red then he snatches the bedraggled hat off the ground, pulls it back onto his head and points at Victoria then forward towards the middle of the caravan.

Victoria looks stunned, a hand reaching out to try and soothe him and perhaps chide him softly with the pained look he gives - but the outburst has her stopping in her tracks, staring at him as that hat goes down. Lips will part, tongue bitten down on with her back teeth - ignoring the looks that are cant from head peeks out of wagons and startled looks of others. Suddenly she will break into a luminous smile, amber gaze warmly lighting up as she lets out a soft laugh, eyes drifting up to the sky as she tilts her head back, inside of her cheek bitten down on. A shake of her head and she will exhale out a sigh, the laughter pewtering away as she moves to step in alongside Venan, tugging his arm with a brief caress of fingertips before reaching up to tweak at his hat a little, before she continues on to the middle of the caravan, "Yes Master Merchant."

Venan makes the "Pbpbpbp" noise with his lips. Then tugs his hat back round the right way. He points at her, points to the trees, then does a quick intricate move with his feet from a jig, then puts his hands flat, palms down, arms crossed and uncrosses them quickly. Message broadcast loud and clear, maybe, he starts walking back towards the center of the caravan. Though after the gesture he does drop his hand back held slightly away from his side so she can take hold of it.

Victoria needs a bloody interpreter with Venan - but she gets the gist. After a second soft laugh she will roll her eyes and continue the slow walk back to the middle of the caravan, his gestures noted, "I don't know, I went to commune with the trees briefly and woke up. About to snog a rock. I haven't the faintest why, or how, I got there." A pull of her lips to the side as she gives Venan a sidelong glance, "Perhaps the Fae are trying to claim me." A tease of sorts, though her own tone is worried as to the lost time. The hand at his side, extended for her benefit, is glanced down to. For a brief moment there is heavy hesitation in the look she gives Venan's hand, a distinct look of lack of surety. If she takes it and it wasn't really offered then what?! Awkward fist bump? Plus, really, she's not going to disappear again. That's what the hand is for, afterall, likely to tether her to ensure she doesn't walk with the fae once more. Or she's reading into things and being extremely creepy, "You've in need of something to soothe that throat of yours, Venan. Suckling more of that treat you gave me before may help." Said as she walks alongside him companionably.

Venan winced when Victoria spoke of almost snogging a rock, when she uses the term suckling he shuffle steps once then gives a rock in the path a solid kick sending it off into the trees. Following that he uncorks his flask and upends it over his mouth, not a drop to be found. He then recorks it and afixes it back to his side. Once the flask is secured he points back to Victoria, sticks out his tongue, then makes a face like he's eaten something terrible. He then points over to where Luna has stored the paste and makes a shooing motion at her.

<FS3> Victoria rolls Body: Success.
"I hope this trip ends soon, another day full of that bloody paste …" So says the gaunt Huntress sourly, trailing off away from Venan and his empty flask to go where the paste is stored to get another spoonful. Its a terrible, terrible taste, and one that Victoria has grown accustomed to. The near snogging of the rock may have helped her, because she is feeling better, and this paste is likely to blame. So down it goes once she's got a spoonful of it, the huntress turning aroung to make a show of putting the spoon in her mouth and taking down the bitter stuff, her face screwing up into a horrified grimace. Hacking up a bit she'll twist back around, replacing the paste to where it belongs, and the spoon to a pouch at her side, continuing the walk then. Bitterly. But in better spirits than the day previous.

Venan offers Victoria a slow clap at her accomplishment with the medicine. His own medicine taking has been done in private so far, whatever evils Luna has prescribed for him he's been suffering in isolation. They must not be that bad however as he hasn't voiced a complaint, or at least that has been the running joke from those who suffered with the merchant's puns when he did have a voice. The drink selection has dwindled down to some weak tea with a frew drops of wine mixed in to give it a flavor other than warm muddy water.

Victoria forgoes the muddied tea this time around, waving a hand at Venans clapping with a soft snort, pressing in once again beside him as they walk, Nelan continuing to keep close to her atop her right shoulder, the hawk snoozing, or giving the image of doing so. Feathers all puffed out, head cocked back into his back, just adorable, "You gave that rock quite the kicking earlier, did that make you feel better any?" Said with a sidelong glance up to Venan, the Huntress curving a half-smile.

Venan waggles his hand from side to side, then spying another rock he kicks that one too. Unfortunately this rock is the deceptive sort that looks like a pebble but is actually the tip of an underground mountain and as Venan's foot comes to an abrupt stop he stumbles forward then starts cursing silently. This is probably for the best as there are clerics present and based on his expression and gestures at least one of the gods or goddesses would be intimately famliar with something quite large should his curses be carried out.

Victoria is a terrible person, and starts to laugh hysterically, both hands up to her mouth, gloves pressing into her flesh as she wheels about a quick turn as she laughs, body doubling over and a crouch dropped into. She's definitely in better spirits. The silence of the whole thing has her in stitches even moreso, and she will rock onto her back out of the crouch. Brevity sought and caught. Pushing up into a sit, with her knees at a wide stand, leather pants keeping everything nice, woman slapping the ground in front of her as she dissolves into further chuckles, "Shoot me in the eye, Venan - come here now. Let me check the foot, make sure you haven't broke a thing. All we need, your foot to rot."

Venan is still in full swing, despite half-hopping on one foot as he only puts pressure on the heel of the other his cursing has now grown to encompass the noble's carriage, his mules or possibly the guards that are riding them, something back in the jungle, something ahead, above, below, a little to the left of him, his own foot, his stick, the skiff, and finally Victoria, then back to the rock, the trees, the rock, his foot, the trees, Victoria, his foot, his stick, his flask, his stick or maybe that was his mule, the carriage, the rock, the skiff, and his hat.

<OOC> Victoria says, "Hrm, would I roll +melee to make a try at grabbing him?"
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Victoria=Melee Vs Venan=Defense
< Victoria: Success Venan: Good Success
< Net Result: Venan wins - Marginal Victory

Victoria doesn't giggle, by virtue of her upbringing, but she will allow for a throaty chuckle that will dissolve again into bright laughter, elbows pressing to her knees as she stares at Venan with just pure amusement - she should feel bad, right? She should. She knows it. Hands will lift and she'll gather up her hair, twisting it around and neatly knotting it before she forces herself up into a push, a groaning laugh preceding the actual stand until she's up. And stepping towards Venan as he continues to curse and make a show, a delightfully hilarious one. Stepping in front of him she'll arch one brow, some of her pale coloring having faded allowing for more of her usual dusky complextion to come through as opposed to the yellow undertone. Not a word - no, she will reach out to try and grab him, arms and hands snaking out, her hands going for his shoulders to tug him in towards her.

Venan apparently has quite a bit to not say about his hat and gestures at the brim several times until Victoria steps in front of him, then his attention shifts and he shoots a hand up in the sky inquiring about something from the gods his other hand rasing to gesture towards Victoria as her hands snake out. Startled out of his monologue he goes to sidestep, puts pressure on the bad foot and jumps in the opposite direction surprising himself and apparently Victoria as he lands heavily upon the ground leaving her grasping at air. Venan pinwheels his arms while he's laying on the ground then just goes limp. A "Pbpbpbpbpb" sound can be heard from the face hidden under his hat then he sits up, pushes the hat back, and rests his elbows on his knees looking up at Victoria as the caravan continues to move away from them.

Do you hear that? It's the sound of an entire caravan dissolving into laughter, or at least those who caught the sight of Venans insane fall. Sides of the wagons are slapped hard with the laughter and the story is quickly spreading through folks so that they too may laugh heartily.

Victoria blinks as she's evaded, a bit too slow, her fingertips curling in the air. Down her gaze drops to where he fell, light warm brown eyes staring down, her mouth agape in the most disgustingly amused grin ever, silent laughter wracking her body as she closes her eyes and lets her head fall back again, arms hugging about her chest as she does a dizzying little walk around Venan while tearing up. Right hand unwinds from the hug as she steps back in front of Venan, a wheezing whisper coming from her as she drops down, hand pressing into her face where palm will press at her eyes to sweep away those tears, "What'd I have done without you on this trip, Ven …" Wheeze, chortle, hands both pulling away to pull for his boot, "Come on, you silly goat, give me a look."

Venan shakes his head then straigtens out one leg, he stretches and marks a spot just below the bottom of his foot in the dirt of the path, then he measures from his butt to the top of his head with his hands and marks another spot in the dirt. He measures his shoulders, marks two spots halfway between the top and bottom lines about that width apart. He draws an eightpointed star above the top line then starts picking up little handfuls of dirt from the center of the box he's drawn and throwing them to the side.

"Oh, what I wouldn't give to be talking to one of your mules right now." Said with a smirk, Victoria moving then to sit beside Venan instead, which involves a lean forwards and a half-crawl there, leaning into him to look at his handiwork, "You know, I bet we would get the whole caravan together, hmm, to help dig your last resting spot if we asked." Said as she presses her chin to his shoulder as he digs, watching with bemusement, one hand going to her thigh, the other out at her side in the dirt, as she took kicks out one leg, the other crossing beneath her thigh on the ground, boot resting along her lower hip near her buttock, "If I help, may I have your hat?"

Venan removes his hat and clutches it to his chest, as he continues to dig his grave. He might have gotten distracted for a moment when she was crawling towards him, probably those coins that keep catching his attention, but his focus returned and he soldiered on, determined not to burden them with his burial.

"Well, might as well make it extra deep.'" Victoria will push up, dusting off her pants before she moves to where he's digging, walking to the edge of it where the bottom would be, crouching down and laying back, arms curving under her head, ankles crossing as she gets comfortable, "And the lovely priestess and her disgusting paste. Come, make it wider, dig my portion first." Wiggling down she will unknot her hair with hands beneath her hair and fluffing out the knotted locks to make a pillow, "Can't have your hat, no point in living. Do me in quick, would you? I asked that Lord Captain last night to take me out. Nice knife through the eye, he wouldn't do it."

Venan eyes Victoria, then his grave, then Victoria again. He checks his hip to make sure his flask hasn't gone missing then makes an odd clicky sound in the back of his throat that would probably have been a growl. "…. … ….. .. … …… .. … ….. ……" He curses and gestures a bit more then falls still. He points to Vitoria and gestures to his foot.

Venan fixes his hat back on his head then turns it round the right way.

Victoria has gotten quite comfortable, her eyes having closed, a light sniff done as she settles in for the long haul, perpetually smiling lips nicely relaxed, "It is a lovely day for a death. Not a speck of rain to turn dirt to mud." Murmured, the ranger actually enjoying the lay down on the ground because things aren't moving. The sound that the man beside her elicites is enough for her to peek one golden eye open, head tilting slightly his way as a breeze comes in and plucks up locks of hair to spatter them across her face, sticking to her lips, "Mmm?" A glance down with one eye to what he's gesturing at, "What? The idea of spending eternity with my bones is enough to give you the will to live?" A gutteral sigh, her eye closing again, "Men. All the same." Said in a mockingly annoyed tone, Victoria uncurling arms from beneath her head so she can slap them down to her side and sit up. With a twist she'll curl legs into a cross-legged set, using her hands to pull her in closer to Venan, patting her lap, "Come on then. Give it here."

Venan raises an eyebrow as as he's classed the same as other men. "…" he comments dryly. Then he carefully works his boot off his foot before putting the already swelling appendage in her lap. Of his family of toes the longest member is most swollen, yes, one long swollen member resting in Victoria's lap.

<FS3> Victoria rolls Medicine: Good Success.
<FS3> Venan rolls Chance: Good Success.
<OOC> Venan says, "(It is probably not broken, just feels that way)"

"Oh my, look how itty your toes are." Said in a sing-song sort of way, Victoria tugging off her gloves and reaching down to her hiprig to pull out a leather packet. Never know what she might need. Gingerly, once she's set aside the packet on her left thigh, she'll take his foot - which is no doubt hairy and made uglier with those swollen toes, to press that one down onto her right thigh, "See, this is why you need to stuff the toe of your boots with reinforcements like us rangers do. Never know when an errant kick will have you sprawling and your adversary laughing at you." And then with an apologetic smile at Venan that seems more wicked than sympathetic, she'll hold his heel with one hand while the right begins to work it's way along his toes carefully, feeling for anything broken. Which is likely painful.

Venan very deliberately clears a bits of grit from his boot and knocks some dust off of them. He blows breath through his lips at her teasing of his foot which, truth be told, is actually well made. The pads of his feet and toes are heavily calloused as any walkers would be but his ankles and what shows of his calf is well turned. When she takes hold of his heel he grips the boot and as she starts working her way along her toes he squeezes the little bit of leather. He keeps a straight face though and no pain is so spectacular that it causes him to cry out, though his foot does jump and flinch as she hits the long toe. He sets the boot down when she seems done and points to the long toe and makes an 'ow' face.

"Don't judge me, Venan but —" She'll lean over his foot with a little noise made in her throat, nodding her head, "I know, I know. Just hold on, I'm sorry -" Not getting to finish what he might have judged her for, Victoria will press fingertips gingerly around the toe, bending down even more to press her ear nearer, listening for little crackles. At this distance, with her head turned, she can likely smell his feet cheese, but it's hardly a thing to fuss over, "I think …you're okay. It's just badly bruised from what I can tell. The newer rangers tend to get this sort of injury, bravado, you know." Murmured, woman sitting back up, brushing back a tendril of hair behind her left ear before the hand drops down to her satchel. Out she'll bring cut bandages, all made out of old shirts, but clean, and wraps that long toe against another, carefully, "So you'll have to go without the boot, you don't want the swelling to cut off your foot, you know?" She doesn't have technical terms for any of this, just knows what she knows from her work, "You'll have to stay in the skif, since I know you're a bit daft and will try to walk on it, or will kick something." Said as she remains bent over his foot, working on it deftly, "Unless you want to ride about on my back." That said with a slight twitch of her mouth, gaze flicking up to eye the man briefly, "Teasing." Back to the foot, "Okay?"

Venan does not smell of foot cheese, he smells of leather and corn chips. As she informs him he'll be on the skiff for the balance of the journey he squawks and when she makes the crack about riding her back he just points at her front. He makes the clicking growl then starts working to push himself up. The caravan hasn't waited for them of course. He points foward and makes a shooing motion. The starts walking on his heel to try and catch up to the caravan.

Oh that dusty driness of feet. Just. Amazing. Chuckling as he pushes back and works to get up she will close up the leather satchel and put it back into the leather hiprig at her thigh, snugging it in and rising up as well, a hand out for him to help him up, "Fine, but you're going to tire twice as fast bouncing about like that, Venan." Walking along side him she wears a silly grin on her lips, ensuring he makes it back to the caravan in one piece.

Venan accepts the help and when he's caught up to the caravan he falls into the skiff. When he's got his teeth ungritted from pain of hopping about he looks over at Victoria and touches his forehead, his chest then points towards her before laying back.

Victoria unclasps her cloak along the way, draping it over one arm. Just in time to fling it over Venan when he falls into the skiff. A quick jump with one foot to press it into the skif to keep it from topping over she's smiling down at him, "Told ya." Letting her other foot drag behind as she surfs the skif she'll flop the cloak onto Venan, leaning forwards to tuck it in around him, watching his gestures, "Oh please, you'd have done the same for me, minus watching me try to dig my own grave. Sleep."

Fever Dreams

Venan whistles an intricate tune.

The evening has come to pass, and due to wind, darkness, and a general tiredness of bouncing along across the road, the caravan has stopped for the evening in a small clearing off the road. Wagons have been set for sleeping, lean-to's and other shelters set up around a fire. Currently setting up her own tent is Victoria, the woman listening to the soft murmurs of chatter that rise up around as people settle in for the evening, happy chatter happening, even a few stories for the young ones. The whistling only helps to highlight the lightness of the evening, a few others, including Victoria, joining in. Finishing off the setting of her tent with a smack of a rock she carried about in her gear to posts at the edges of her structure she'll stand up, hands pressing to the small of her back, to stretch a moment, turning to look over the camp in the glow of the firelight and moonlight.

Venan pauses in his piping as the pulls the trade goods he acquired in Jadda free from the pack. He checks the covering then replaces it into the pack. With many members of the group on the mend the young merchant has been able to reclaim two of his animals and while the goods left behind cannot be retrieved he does at least plan to ride rather than be dragged tomorrow. He looks around to see where Victoria is then quickly stands and shuffles over to another pack before sitting again and adopting an innocent aire as he continues to sort and catalog what had survived the trip.

Victoria had inquired, earlier, amongst the group if any had a spare comb or brush. Not a necessity, but with the upswing in her state of illness, the Huntress has become increasingly aware of the state of her mane. Not something she needs to worry about, but something that had been itching at her. Sadly, none were available, and so now she will wander the camp, walking between hide structures, wagons, whislt tugging fingers roughly through her hair, frowning a bit as she does so. Eventually she will wander by Venan, rips of knots sounding in the air softly, woman coming 'round, "See you're up and moving …"

Venan manages to look only a little guilty. He looks over at her as she rakes at her hair then holds up his hand to stop her. He fetches an arrow and a bit of wood. He drills a series of holes in the wood witj an awl the cuts the arrow into stubs and forces them into the holes. A bit of lashing around the handle. A quick rasping and he hands the brush over.

Venan rolls Carpentry: Failure
<OOC> Venan says, "It is poorly made and will pull hair"

Victoria's eyes narrow a little, her head tilting down as she crouches to look at his foot, lips pulling to the side. Reaching out she'll give his leg a little swat with tip of her fingertips, hands pressing to her thighs then as she straightens up to move on in her walk. But there's that stalling hand and she will watch as he works, one hand to the small of her back, the other trying to pull thumb through a knot. When the handiwork is finished she will hesitantly reach forwards with the hand that was in the small of her back, other hand falling from her hair, to take the brush. Eying it she will do the polite thing and …brush her hair with it. It pulls her hair. Indeed it does. It also, thanks to the edges of the arrow stubs, cuts a large chunk out of her hair which causes some panic. Just a little. You know, the horror-filled stare as the brush goes too easily through a chunk of hair only to get pulled away to see a fistful of dark raven hair there. Oh. No words. The huntress just stands there and stares. Pleasepleaseplease be a fever dream.

Venan blinks as Victoria manages to pull a chunk out of her hair. He reaches over tob relieve her of the brush then gives it a toss into the campfire. He opens and closes his mouth a few times but there are no words and even if there were he could not say them.

Victoria flushes deeply, speckles of red rising up along her neck and cheeks as the brush is taken from her, hand still hovering in the air. Fingertips will curl into her palm and she will ever so hesitantly reach her hand to the side of her hair to feel - thankfully she has thick hair to begin with, and long, so ..it'll grow out, "That is …" Trying to make light of the situation, "One way …to …get rid of the knots." But no laughter. Just a slight smile as she forces her hand down from her hair, "Ah, but ..I do prefer long hair, Venan, I thank you for the ..thought." Reaching out she will gently touch his shoulder to give it a light pat. It helps to keep her from strangling him.

Venan nods then reaches out and taps her curls with his finger. He then bunches his fingers, puts them to his lips and makes a kiss noise as he spreads hours fingers moving them away from his mouth.

Victoria has a weird relationship with her hair, like any self-respecting woman does, and does feel a keen sense of loss. With Venans gesture she will sputter a little, managing a little bit more of a smile, "Did you just tell me to kiss my hair goodbye?" Oh, she could kill him.

Venan tilts his head then shakes it. He digsb around till he finds his Ledger then writes on it. "Can you read?" Then shows her the still wet and dripping ink.

Victoria's eyes narrow at the ledger and she'll lean in to look at it, "Oh …that's pretty." Read, what are words? Then she snorts softly, a smirk on her face, still flushed from the hair loss, her hands slinging back into her hair, "I'm a Ranger of House Forrester, of course I can read." Said with a bit of a stung tone to her words, trying to gather up her hair to wind it around into a bun before Venan can cut off anymore.

Venan takes a moment to write, "I meant your hair is pretty. I do not know many Rangers. Thank you for helping me. You are remarkably lovely. " He then runs out of space on the little page.

Victoria finishes twisting fingers through her hair, one of the shorn locks curving away from her head to stick out the side like a cowlick, just hanging out. It would draw her ire but the ledger is soon back before her and she'll look to it, brow tugging down, amber gaze lit in the firelight drawn up to study Venans face, "You are ..of course welcome. And. Thank you." A slant of her chin down, lips parting as tongue comes between teeth to run between them, a slight bite done on the tip before she exhales out a breath, "You must be ill, I look like a wolf has drug me through the forests and shat in my hair." And up her hand goes to touch said hair, feeling that chuck of hair sticking out, fingertips twining about it, woman having the good sense to tug it out, "But I appreciate the attempt to lessen the sting of my recent loss." There, see. Some humor. Even a bit of a smile, her eyes rolling.

Venan spent several minutes considering his ledger before writing over the previous words in thick strokes. "When can talk, will talk." With that said he continues working with his equipment. Later he goes to trouble the little princess and trade her shiny things for one of her brushes then leave it with Victoria's gear.

Victoria had wandered off, back to her tent to crawl into it, and drifted off to sleep. Somehow, over the course of time between the last conversation on ledger and now, she has managed to get worse. Perhaps it's the wind, the dampness to the air, but she's woken up in a deep sweat, drenched, and so now lays with her head outside of her tent to try and get cool air, hair pressed into grass and dirt. She talks to the air, "Oh, no. No. I couldn't. Far ..far .." Wheeze, "Too rich for me." A giggle, a bonified giggle, the huntress reaching her hands up to press them over her eyes, "Okay ..one …two …"

Venan freezes as he moves with admirable silence to place the brush where Victoria will find it. He considers her for a few moments then moved slowly off to fetch something to ease her fever as well as a spoonful of the paste.

Venan rolls Apothecary: Good Success
Venan gathers cool cloth and such herbs as remain to comfort her.

Venan rolls Body: Failure
Venan is not doing his foot any kindness and will be limping tomorrow if able to walk at all.

Victoria rolls Singing: Failure
"NO. You won't trick me tonight. You tricksy little creatures." All said with her eyes closed, though her eyes will open to look up into the forest canopy, hands draping over her chest as she begins to sing a tune, horribly, horribly out of tune about the fae, "They tell me ….his eyes of blue are like waters to my ..my ..my …" Droning off with a giggling snort she'll roll her head to the side, cheek pressing into the dirt and grass, "My ..something, something …something about his …eyes …"

Venan kneels carefully before Victoria's tent. He clucks his tongue a few times to see if he can catch Victoria's attention as he folds a cloth to place under her head. He whistles softly the tune Victoria was singing as he watches her to try and place the cool damp cloth yon her brow, mindful of startling her.

Victoria will see Venan, not startled at all, her attention caught good and easily, a wide smile curving her lips, "Oh - they've brought you to me again. Did you know-" Whispering now, still in that off tune sing songy voice as she carries on the awful tune, "~/o They're conspiring against us. ~/o" Her head will lift easily, settling back down against the cloth, her eyes ever watchful of Venan, even as that cloth comes to lay upon her brow, both hands reaching up to try and capture his in hers, "~/o Your byootttiifffulll eeyyyeees …haunt my dreaaaams. o/~" If there were a dog about, or wolf, it'd howl right along with her.

Venan blinks those pretty blue eyes of his at the declaration, then smiles and makes a tsking sound. He taps her nose lightly then produces the spoon with the paste. He sticks out his tongue at her then holds the spoon forward to dose her when she does the same. He wiggles his other hand to show he had some sort of treat but only once she had taken her medicine it seems.

Victoria chuckles and sighs, watching as that paste comes out, all of a sudden realizing …within her delusion, that this is real. The nose boop though got a thpt of her own tongue out, and then the paste materializes, "Ughn, I can always tell …" Not explaining further she'll stick her tongue out again, taking the dose of paste and letting out a few curses as she forces it down her gullet. A lick, and smack of her lips and she'll lift up her left hand to wave it in the air at him, "Gimme."

Venan checks the spoon to be sure she's cleared it. Seeing the paste gone he offers her the contents of his other hand. A small piece of honeycomb from the scouts. The comb is sticky bit full of sweet, paste erasing taste. Venan gives a cherry whistle as he reveals the little treat.

Victoria sees what it is, and shakes her head, reaching out with both her hands to close over his, even in this state mindful of his own state, oddly worried for him, "No, no. No." She will struggle a little to sit up, still sweating out beads of moisture, sitting up on one elbow, paled considerably, but, still cheery, "This ….so good for your throat." Letting one hand loose from his she'll reach out to gently press her hand against his neck, thumbtip caressing against his adams apple, "Eat it, please?"

Venan considers for a moment then taps the spoon, points out towards the camp, then points to himself. He sticks out his tongue then makes a face. After that he points to the honeycomb and points to Victoria. He extends his hand again towards her offering the treat.

Normally Victoria is sorta okay at this gesturing thing - for the most part she's gotten used to it over the last few days. But in her fevered state, what he's doing makes absolutely no sense - and besides. She's watching those eyes of his, sucking in a deep breathe with a broad smile that suddenly hits her, "Did you know, Venan-eran-ameran- that you have ..these eyes that are just …" Up her hand goes to her lips to kiss it, and then the hand is flung clumsily into the air, "I'd sooner look to them than the skies." Oh, she's about to break into song again.

Those pretty blue eyes roll up to glance at the sky for a moment, then drop back down to look at Victoria. He gives a little low whistle then breaks a corner off the small comb with his finger and moves quickly to curtail the onslaught of song by giving a quick tap on Victoria's chin with the back of his pinky. He then holds the small piece of comb just above her lips. He gives another short low whistle and taps her chin again before turning his hand almost threatening to shove the treat into her mouth.

Victoria is successfully swayed from her song, the tap on her chin causing her head to snap back, which only turns out to be a shiver as her eyes cross. There she'll stare at the pinky, the whistles a bit confusing, the woman expecting Nelan to be there, lips parting to take the treat. But not before she snags the wrist of the man. To his his hand there as she tilts her head forward to take the treat from Venans fingertips. Like a bird pecking off a bit of seed. Nip.

Venan tilts his head as Victoria strays into more curious behavior but as his fingers don't appear to be bleeding he breaks off another piece of the honeycomb for her and tries to get her to eat as much of it as she's able. The sugars of the honey should help to give her a bit of energy while soothing her cough. He then brings round the little flask that has normally been holding tea but this time the warm skin holds a small amount of broth. He makes sure she tastes a little of it before giving her the skin and encouraging her to drink more, a mouthful of broth when expecting tea could be a surprise and as much fun as bathing her is, it's late and his foot is already throbing.

Victoria adores sweets, anything sweet, so as soon as that honey comb hits her tongue she's humming out pleasantly, dropping back onto her back, one hand coming to her lips where she'll press thumbtip to her lips with a smile up to the sky, Venans' wrist loosed free. The broth that follows is not as well received and she will sit up suddenly, gagging a bit, a hand coming to her stomach before - woop. There she goes. Upchucking into her tent. Falling back she will grunt, a deep breath sucked in, "Don't-" Odd moment of lucidity, "I can't, I feel as if something has hatched in my gut and is trying to kill me." A bit of fevered worry, woman turning that bright light brown gaze up to Venan, absolute distress in her eyes, "Are you well? You're well, yes? You're well. You're here. I know the Fae told me things, and they were very honest about it, and I said-" A wipe of her hand against her lips then, before it flops down to her chest, "Did you know? Are you well? I lost you, you know. You were so far away. I saw him, and the blade …but you're here. Did you get away? You ran? You must have." Babble, a reach out of her hand for Venan, "Those eyes of yours …And I saw your calves, so well made, you could hunt along me without falling back …" Wonder in her voice as she stares up at him, beads of sweat dripping down her face and along her neck, knotted hair soaked, "They stole your voice from me …punishment, they said. Do you know why? Because I made the Goddesses so angry …So focused on your eyes …"

Venan blows out a little exasperated breath as Victoria fails to hold down her broth. He takes her hand as she reaches out and pats it gently before setting it on his chest so she can confirm he's sold and his heart is beating. He holds it there for a few moments before lifting it clear. He takes a moment to tighten the straps on the boot of his bad foot. Then pushes himself up to standing. The line of his jaw twitches as he clenches his teeth but he doesn't let the limp show as he helps to clear the mess. When done he makes a gesture for Victoria to stay put, and looks at her for sign she's understood.

<FS3> Victoria rolls Mind: Success.
Victoria feels that heart beating and draws in a deep breath — the fact that he cleared up the mess is just ..horrifying. She's mollified. Even in her fevered state she's pushing up, sliding out from the tent to try and help, "Look at this mess …" Muttered, woman then noticing his boot on his foot - somewhere in her brain she connected that it shouldn't be on, and she will stare up at Venan, absolute irritation on her face, "I /told/ you, keep it off, what are you doing? Are you trying to make it worse?" Shakily she will try and get up ,not about to listen to Venan if he can't listen to her, "Come here, now." Slapping the ground in front of her as she sinks down, one knee up near her chest, other crooked out to the side and curved in, "Take it off, it needs to /breathe/. Why would you do that-" Herp - hork. About to puke again she'll slap the back of her hand against her mouth, fingertips curving into her lap, eyes closing tightly —- a countdown mentally. And a hard swallow, "/SIT/." A commanding tone tickled with a grimace, "Take ..off. You ..can walk, just ..no boot. Why would you do that." The last said meanderingly to herself, though she's at the moment hyper focused on the issue at hand, "I know …the wraps good."

Venan eyes Victoria for a moment then reaches down and undoes the straps on his boot. The color drains away from his face and he pulls his bottom lip in to bite down on as he works it off. Once it is clear he puts it down a little ways from her tent then points to her, and gestures for her to stay put. Then turns and moves off. The limp is more obvious now despite his attempt to hide it as he moves around the camp. He returns with a plank of wood and sets it down then leaves agaon to come back with a short thick log. He departs again and returns carrying two buckets and his tea kettle. Both buckets are filled with water. This last trip appears to be giving him a fair bit of trouble as his lopsided walk was causing the buckets to slosh so his pace has become a very deliberate and slow matter.

When he's back the Huntress is sat on her knees, butt set back on the heels of her feet, elbows on her knees, hands up cupping her cheeks, eyes wide. Watching every trip back that he makes, and even vomiting one more time. That she had covered up with dirt, and now she sits with a guilty expression expressively written across her features. The last trip has her pushing up, quick and light, stumbling forwards to help him with the buckets, straying from her tent to do so. To his side she'll dash, her walk very unsteady, sweat dripping down on her as if she were being showered with rain, but she will grab for the bucket in his hand that has the injured foot below it - and if successful hefts it up to her chest, staggering back but half-managing to mostly veer back to her tent.

Venan gives a quick hiss as Victoria rises. He eyes her tent and the mess she's made of it and herself. When she grabs and hoists the bucket instead of fighting her he just keeps his hand on the rope handle and leads her to the loose pavilion where he sleeps. He sets his bucket down then helps her do the same. Then he points to her, and points to the ground, then takes hold of her shoulders to help her sit down. Once she's seated outside he makes another trip back to hers to retrieve the plank of wood and the chunk of log.

Victoria is a right pain in the ass. Led easily by the rope on the handle she'll go to his pavillion, only having tugged away once with confusion, but with another tug she's back where she needs to be plopping down the bucket, water splashing out violently over the sides, even with his help. With the grab of her shoulders she suddenly finds herself sitting down when she had every intention of wandering off back to her tent. But there she is, back on her knees, sat back on her heels, blinking. Unable to keep her head up she will slide to the side, then flop down ,curling one arm beneath her head as she stares out, watching Venan as he disappears, waiting for him to come back with all the eagerness of a puppy.

Venan returns in short order with the plank and log, as well as the brush tucked into his belt. He sets the log on the ground then the plank against it so it is on an angle. He parts the entrance to his pavilion and pulls out his bedroll and lays it over the plank. He nudges it a few times to make sure it is settled. He stops then for a moment just standing there. His eyes close and the fingers of his right hand stretch out then curl into a fist. When his eyes open he focuses on Victoria and kneels beside her. This requires an awkward flop forward onto his hands as he avoids putting pressure on the toes of one foot but he's soon righted. He then points to Victoria, then to the bedroll covered board and very, very cautiously helps her to settle herself on it so that her back is on the incline with her head almost hanging over the lip fo the top. He folds the bedroll over a few times to support her neck.

"Why are you doing this?" You know those creepy moments when people who are sick/dying have those sudden moments where they're completely lucid - or seem to be? This is one of those moments, the young woman easily moves, not in any shape to give up a fight, a wince and soft groan of pain coming to her here and there, but regardless she moves where needed, the gentleness of Venans movements to get her on the roll not in vain. She gets there, a heavy sigh escaping her once she's not moving anymore, legs sprawling out before her as her hands fold over her stomach, clutching lightly, chest rising and falling quickly, amber gaze fixated on Venan in the dark the roll folding beneath her neck to a comfortable height, her eyes finally closing in bliss, "I've figured out you're a wisp. A figment." Whispered, soft smile coming to her lips, cheek turning to the side so that her cheek presses into the bedroll, tendrils of hair falling to cushion her cheek and ear, one eye opening to look at Venan, "That makes me sad."

Venan dips a finger into one of the buckets and flicks a bit of water at Victoria when she declares him a figment. Then he drags himself around to sit beside the log pulling the buckets and kettle over beside him. He pours some of the kettle water into the bucket and checks it with his hand before adding a bit more. When he has it to his satisfaction he suffs it along the ground till it sits behind the incline. Once there he slides himself a bit closer, clucks his tongue once to get Victoria's attention then lightly presses a finger on her forehead to keep her in place. His other hand takes up a rag, dips it in the bucket then brings the rag up and squeezes it running some water into her hair. He shifts a little awkwardly then has to remove his fingers from her forehead to wrangle her hair into some semblance of order so the water will run down and into the bucket below.

With that flick of water her eyes tightly close as she recoils back, a quick shiver running through her, face screwed up, "I didn't say a nice one .." Amended with a sharp exhale of air, both hands coming up to rub at her face, though those drops felt wonderful on her heated flesh. Soon enough, with that fingertip in the middle of her forehead and the clucking to get her attention there, she will allow her body to relax, taking up the talking since the wisp Venan can not. Moving not a bit she will sigh out in calmness as the water trickles it's way down her hair, and eases even further into stillness as his hands try to wrangle her hair. What girl doesn't like her hair played with, "You know. I figured it out. Because you're /always/ there when I need you. Always. And no normal person does that, right? So …maybe the Gods sent you. But then /why/ are you so clumsy." Rabble, eyes still closed, her words a breathless whisper, "But then, maybe so that I would trust you. And your eyes and smile, no mortal holds those both at once. So …soo …" Losing her train of thought, hands listlessly on her stomach, ankles crossing, "So. Perhaps they favor me, for my offerings during my hunts. And sent you to me."

Venan gets a bit lost in what he's doing and when Victoria starts asking questions he answers, "…" His movement stops for a moment as the rasping whisper is all he manages then he just makes a little "Pffew" sound as he blows air up from an outthrust lower lip. Once he has her hair thoroughly wetted he works up a small lather in his hand. A mixture of fine sand, mint, oil and soap. Starting at her forehead he works the mixture into her hair working it through her curls down to her scalp. He pauses frequently in his efforts to run the cool cloth over her face to keep the water from troubling her.

Victoria chuckles lowly in her throat, a contended sigh escaping her lips as she gives in. Just enjoying the feel of his hands in her hair, the cool water being pressed to her face just the icing on top of the cake of everything else. Pure bliss is written all over her features, her muscles completely relaxed in her body. Were she well, there is absolutely no way this would be happening, allowing her guard to be set down enough to allow anyone to do this. And to be fair, this is the nicest her hair has smelled in a while since getting sick, unable to go and bathe herself adequately along the way. Important bits washed, hair left by the wayside. Too much to wash, though Venan helped to relieve some of the burden with his brush previously.

Venan continues working the pleasantly gritty paste through Victoria's hair, loosing tangles and snarls. Once done he repeats the process with the warmed water washing out the grit and leaving behind relatively clean hair. He then applies one of the towels working gently but quickly to get her hair dried. When finished he places the little brush he traded for on Victoria's stomach, drags the bucket out from behind her, and places the towel down so her damp hair can't brush the ground. He shifts and moves to stand with the bucket then just stops, and turns his leg again sitting down. He pulls the bucket a little further around so that it isn't in Victoria's way then waits.

Victoria has managed, for the most part, to lull off to sleep, her chest rising and falling slowly with the breath of relaxation, pleasant hums rising up in her throat to reverberate about as his hands work away all thoughts of the Fae and Wisps. When the towel comes into play she will inhale deeply, nostrils flaring a bit, Victoria feeling very light with her clean hair, and very, very cared for. Weight of brush is felt, her stomach muscles flexing in response, light brown eyes sliding open, right hand sliding up over the brush, suddenly feeling a panic rise in her stomach, "Please don't go." Said into the starry darkness, hand leaving the brush to reach out to Venan, fingertips uncurling from her palm to reach out for him, "Stay with me, please. Brush my hair?" Anything to bribe him not to leave her right now, "I promise. No squirming ..or complaints. And I'll be quiet, yes?" Keening tone, her jaw tightening, muscles along jaw and cheek tensing, "Please."

Venan rubs his face for a moment, his fingers spread to touch both cheekbones and his forhead. Then he reaches down to pick up the brush. It is a little thing, more a toy than a tool but it was the only one he could barter so it is what he has to use. Fortunately it was designed by someone who had a better grasp of what was needed and better tools and materials so as Venan applies it to Victoria's hair it glides through without trouble. There are tangles to be dealt with, of course, but the brush is so small that it only picks up one snarl at a time and Venan patient works through each as he encounters it. He checks the cloth on Victoria's forehead every so often dipping it into the cool water and ringing it out then replacing it when it grows warm, then he returns to brushing her hair.

Victoria veritably purrs, relaxing completely, though her eyes remain open as she tilts her head back some, chin rising in the air, to look back at Venan as he works. The camp all around them is settling further into the evening, bedding down, voices quieting and words becoming soft whispers that barely carry out over the caravan camp. The fire pit has burned down to mere coals, warmly exuding heat only to those nearest, leaving the rest to combat the chill of the evening with blankets and covers. As promised however the ranger doesn't put up an iota of complaint when snarls are untangled, not a bit of a word comes up from her lips as she promised to be quiet, but those brown eyes of hers hold a look of softness they don't oft carry. Reaching back behind her she'll grab for one of his wrists, trying to capture it with searching fingertips.

Venan has started drifting again, falling into a hazy spot where he just continues the brushing until Victoria's fingers come into his field of vision. He pauses, his brow furrowing slightly as he attempts to puzzle out her intention. His wrist is easily within reach and the feel of the brush in Victoria's hair gives good idea where it lies so she has little difficulty laying hold of him. He shifts his gaze between her face and her hand waiting for some sign of what she's after.

Victoria draws his wrist in over her head, prying out the brush with her left hand to set it down beside her, letting it fall to the ground, then kisses his palm. It's a soft kiss, one that grazes swiftly over flesh. Another tilt back of her head to look back at him, bottom lip puckering up, given a little wiggle, corner of her mouth tugging upwards, "I have you in my line of sight again, Master Merchant, as I did the first time my arrow focused upon you." Completely out of nowhere those words will come, the huntress completely at ease. Her booted feet will lift up slightly, heels digging into his bedroll, though she doesn't make a move to get off it, instead tries to draw him towards her with his wrist in her capture, "Lie with me and allow me your heat, my wisp?"

<FS3> Venan rolls Deception: Good Success.
Venan considers the invitation for a few moments, then gives another 'Pfew' breath causing the hair to shift back away from his eyes. He plants his free hand on the ground and shifts round to be alongside Victoria. He he leans forward so he does not have to support himself with his hand. He leans forward awkwardly but manage to get to a position where he does not need his hand for support. He touches the back of his hand to Victoria's forehead and gives her a sternly apraising look. He turns his hand over so his palm is against her forehead then gently runs his hand down over her face to her nose before pulling it away. Once this is done he lays back carefully hooking his free arm behind his head to act as a pillow.

"Don't worry, your stick of anger doesn't need to be brought out." Murmured, woman shifting slightly so she can lay on her side, making more room, "You will remain …virtuous to the end of your days when the Gods decide to tug you back to their realm." As lucid as it seems those words come out, what actually come out is, "You stay safe. I not touch." Delectable cave-woman speak. Grunt. It definitely sounded better in her head. Plus the hand that ran over her face of his caused her eyes to close and a wamth to grow in her belly, enough to make the fever not seem so bad. But she will turn into him, to press her forehead in against his chest, tucking her head in under his arm, damp locks sweet smelling thanks to his careful work, and tomorrow will be her crowning glory once more, frizzy to the world and happy to show off such.

Venan meant to glance down at Victoria for a moment, but it is several long moments before he shifts his eyes back upwards. He flicks his eyes towards the stick leaning against the wall as she assures him that he'll be safe, and she'll not touch. His gaze flicks downward again then back up. What did that mean, she won't touch, did she notice? He puts the thought out of his head as he tries to push out other thoughts that threaten to betray him. He concentrates instead on his foot, which pulses angrily, and anything other than having a woman in his bed he could not in good conscience evict, again.

"I wish you could talk ..tell me one of those stories you told the children when we arrived in Jadda." Murmured in against his chest, her promise to not touch seeming to only extend to certain touching, because she eases an arm in across his stomach, tucking hand in under the other edge of his waist, keeping close, "If you wanted, I could tell you a story that I was told as a child .." A sleepy set of words from her, "Or …the tale of the ..mystical merchant ..who ..appeared one day before a Huntresses bow in the midst of a fierce battle. With eyes so blue and such an angry look on his face at the thought of the woman bringing harm to ordinary citizens." Keeping her nose pressed in along his ribs she'll exhale a warm breath, still dripping with fever, though it's calmed some due to his careful tending with cold cloth and the hair wash.

"When she didn't shoot him he was so ..grateful. Told her that he owed her a debt, given by the Gods, but she rarely believed in them, with everything so lacking sense in life .." A pause, sleep tugging at her, though the presence of Venan next to her is enough to keep her on the edge a little longer, "But by some …fate, perhaps the Gods …they sent him on the same road as she to save a great man who did not need saving. No, because the woman Ranger, she needed it most. She was full of herself …nothing could touch her. Not the Gods, and not a man any longer. She was a stone fortress . Until the mys..mystil. ..cmy.." A struggle with a few words, "Mystical …merchant ..helped her when she was struck down. Man with one missing tooth ..With a stick of thunder he used to beat the huntress away." A soft laugh, her eyes opening just to look at his tunic in the dark, smoothing fingers along his side, "Please don't smack me with it now." Entreatingly murmured, body shifting so she can curl her own arm under her head, dampness of hair sinking into the fabric of her own shirt sleeve, "I promise …at the end of this all …it will be nothing but a fever dream ..as some of it has no doubt been." A sacred vow to the man who has no doubt saved her life. The least she can do.

<FS3> Venan rolls Body: Failure.
Venan clears his throat once and opens his mouth, "…", but no, there's no voice to be found to respond. He puts his free hand over his eyes for a moment then drops it down to his chest. His fingers twitch a few times, then he finds the fingers that Victoria had run along his side, he pats her hand gently, then reaches up to tap her nose gently with his finger, run his palm gently down her face again encouraging her to closer her eyes, before resting his arm across his chest with his fingertips set to Victoria's forehead rubbing gently across her brow and down the side of her face before moving back up and repeating the same along the other side.

It doesn't take much coaxing for those eyes to close, "Remind me to tell you of the rabbit ..and the hawk ..one time." Her words are laden with tiredness, each one rubbed even deeper to the realms of sleep as muscles in her body let go of tenseness one by one, her head getting heavier with each caress across clammy flesh. As breathing deepens, the sound of rattling in her chest becomes evident, deep and throttling. Not a fleck of knowledge is held in regards to his attempt to perhaps say something, indeed, she's warm and feeling safe beside him, eyes never having strayed upwards, "It's …amusing." Upward tick of her lips in a smile, head turning slightly into his hand with those gentle fingertips, the sands of sleep soon taking her away to rouse once again tomorrow on another leg of their journey.