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Rhoda Dunoir

"I've been given the power to save Humans from external evil... but can I save them from the evil in their own hearts? And... is it selfish to wonder if I can save myself, too?"

0 · 303 views · located in Soria

a character in “The Legend of Soria: The Sacred Swords Part I”, as played by Tsukiakari

Description

Image
Basic Information

Name: Rhoda Alamarc Dunoir
Age: 17
Appearance: Standing at a total height of five feet, seven inches, with a physique clearly slanted towards her limbs, Rhoda possesses a fairly striking appearance despite her rather average size and build. Her legs, long and limber, seem thin and yet powerful, bearing notable traces of muscle despite their deceptively slender surface. Her waist seems equally thin, with her legs only rounding slightly into a flat stomach and an arched back. She possesses a mature, curving figure, running up into somewhat narrow yet firmly set shoulders that neither slump nor hunch as they form into her long, thin yet strong arms, terminating in a small but firm pair of hands. Her skin is a shade of pinkish white, neither overly tanned from excessive exposure nor excessively pale with years of being shut up inside. Yet, it seems somehow fragile, fitting snugly to her figure almost as though it was crafted from porcelain to fit just that shape. Soft and smooth, with nary a blemish on it, its tender, effeminate appearance clashes slightly with her somewhat rigid posture and firm build.

Her face is by far her most distinctive feature. Held proudly high atop a short neck, her features are neither angular nor overly puffy and childish. With a small chin leading into round yet ever-so-slightly shallow cheeks, a pair of firmly set, pale pink lips hiding behind them some decently white teeth, and a petite nose and ears, her most notable features are her most prominent ones: her hair and eyes, both of which are of a rather unusual shade. Her eyes are a bright scarlet, while her hair is a silvery white. Her tresses are not the faded grey of age, but rather a natural shade of almost luminescent silver, more like the color of new-fallen snow on a moonlit evening than the hue most would associate with "white hair." Not only is it clearly the natural color of her hair, but it seems to have always been that way. Her hairstyle is also quite distinctive. Her long bangs are trimmed and parted aside, framing her face with two shoulder-length side-tails that expand outward, covering her small ears and joining with her bangs to shroud her forehead, framing the red eyes they don't quite reach. The main portion of her hair, meanwhile, is combed straight back, cropped short at the base of her neck but allowed to flow freely in a single ponytail, bound by a silken yellow ribbon, that runs all the way down to the small of her back, an impressive mane of surprisingly soft and silky locks that further contributes to her somewhat eye-catching appearance.

Her general attire is a fairly simple one. Over her main garment - a lace-trimmed gown of white silk, its puffy sleeves tied back with thin purple ribbons and its skirt cut somewhat unusually high to allow for greater freedom of movement - she wears a peach-colored dress made of a thicker, rougher material, with all but the very top buttons fastening its ankle-length skirt closed left undone so as not to restrict her movements, whilst also allowing the garment to provide some protection from dust, as well as from prying eyes. Short white stockings and thick, featureless leather boots cover her feet, and her ensemble is at last completed by a loose belt of purple fabric from which hangs her sword, Eclipse.
Personality: Quiet, polite, and helpful, one couldn't accuse Rhoda of being a cold person. Rather, she's simply... distant. Rarely actually trying to initiate conversation, she instead remains quiet unless directly addressed. Although there are a few subjects about which she becomes somewhat enthusiastic, and she is always polite and kind in her speech, her stoic, quiet behavior remains constant, and, in large groups of people, she always seems to just fade into the background, emerging and joining the conversation just long enough to say a few things when people ask her something, then returning to her usual silence. She's not exactly antisocial, oblivious, or uninterested - she always quite plainly pays attention to what those around her say - just... quiet. Rarely does she volunteer her own opinion, and generally just goes along with the suggestions, requests, or commands of those around her, until sometimes it seems like she has no opinions of her own. If she does, anyway, she rarely gives any voice to them, although she's quite plainly capable of acting on her own when it comes down to it, and, when not in the company of anyone who tells her to do otherwise, she'll always do things how she sees fit. It's clearly not a lack of self-confidence she suffers from. Rather, it's more like she just doesn't feel like getting close to anyone. Considering her wandering nature, this is actually fairly likely.

Despite her aloof nature, it's quite clear she cares for those around her. Although she always seems rather melancholy, sometimes even to the point of outright defeatism, she'll always try her best to help others, be it by cheering a friend up, protecting someone, or performing some other task. Seeing her around her close friends when she's needed is a very surprising thing to behold, as the usually stoic, isolated individual shows how kind she can be best in this situation, revealing a motherly side most don't realize she has. When she helps others is perhaps one of the only times you'll ever see her smile, and even then, it seems somehow wry, or sad, but despite this, her smile clearly shows a kindness reflected in her actions. It's strange, and rather inexplicable that someone so distant and quiet could be so kind, but perhaps her mysterious, ever-present melancholy has something to do with her outward demeanor...?

In battle, Rhoda can be... frightening. Not because she changes her mood, mind you - rather, the opposite. Even when locked in a struggle for her life, she still remains quiet, calm, and polite. Looking down at a severe wound, she'd be more likely to sigh and murmur "How problematic..." than she would to scream in pain or rage against the one who had dealt it, and, upon landing her own strike, she would more likely give a quiet apology, or reassure a dying foe that their death was necessary, rather than gloating or claiming her victory. It's clear that she cares about these things, and yet, in spite of that, she's quite deadly and very serious when fighting. She's a gracious loser, a magnanimous victor, and a very dangerous combatant over all.
Background: Rhoda is the heiress of the famous Dunoir house, legendary for its school of swordsmanship, founded by one of the 10 survivors of the Shujaa of olden times before he was killed in battle. Her parents died when she was only in her teens, leaving the family's affairs in her inexperienced hands. It's been speculated that this responsibility, even with the assistance of her new guardians - her aunt and uncle - was simply too much for her to bear, causing her to abandon her inheritance and leave the clan for good. Although nobody knows if she actually has formally resigned her position as heiress, and the family itself refuses to reveal the details, what is known is that she no longer lives at the clan's ancestral home. To those who discover her identity, she claims to be on a traditional journey throughout the country in the name of self-searching, experience, and enlightenment, but it's also unknown if this is true or not. In any case, she has been wandering the world for several years now, armed only with her wits and an old sword, the blade known as "Eclipse," wielded by her great grandfather, the "First Ancestor" of the Dunoir. Rhoda took this sword when she left the family, which has raised suspicions that she fled, stealing the weapon, rather than having simply departed, since the family would never willingly surrender this famous heirloom. Performing various tasks to keep herself clothed and fed, she's become a fairly well known wandering mercenary. Recently, her travels have led her to Peacemark, as, having received some ominous news about a prophecy, Rhoda has decided to go in search of a tower known only through tales and myths... and for the weapon her grandfather left there. Although she's not a true master of her blade, she has enough confidence in her skills to make the attempt, and to see if she can't complete the legacy her direct ancestor began...

Likes & Loves:
Helping others.
Training with her sword.
A finely crafted blade.
Well-prepared meat, a rare luxury for her nowadays.
Comfortable, non-restrictive clothing.
Admittedly, a good fight.

Dislikes & Fears
Being by herself.
Being useless, unneeded, or unwanted.
Weakness.
Sickness.

Sword Information

Sword Name: Eclipse, Heaven's Emperor of Vermillion Shadows

Sword Appearance: Eclipse takes the form of a single-edged, straight-bladed sword with a general shape much like that of a dao or a falchion - a single blade that slightly curves back into a razor-sharp tip - but a blade more similar to a straight tachi sword, being folded into a thinner, longer blade than the more broad, heavy swords whose shape it otherwise favors, with a flat only about an inch wide that broadens only slightly upward at the point to increase its thrusting potential. Forged of an unknown metal, the blade is second to none in craftsmanship, folded upon itself again and again more times than any mortal hand could possibly manage, without a single impurity in its construction. With a softer, more resilient core at its center, and an edge made from the keenest, hardest material imaginable, it is without a doubt one of the sharpest and most durable weapons ever made, having a peerless edge that never dulls, chips, cracks, or breaks and a core that is tough enough not to bend nor warp while also not being so brittle as to shatter with the force of a blow. Despite its ancient nature, time and use hasn't left a single mark on the weapon's smooth, gleaming surface, showing just how incredible a sword it truly is. With a jet black blade polished so much as to shine with reflected light, especially along its edge where it is marked with a wave-like pattern of a silvery hue - known as a Hamon line, a hallmark of the differential hardening technique used to create it - it actually becomes seemingly transparent when swung against an object due to how reflective its surface is. When used during the day, the light shining off of it makes it seem like it glows with its own light, and at night, the weapon seems to be darker than the night sky itself, save for the radiance of the moon dancing along its gleaming edge.

The hilt is a simple one, crafted of an unknown material that resembles wood, yet has a texture more like glass, or some exceedingly smooth stone. Carefully wrapped in tightly-woven scarlet silk to form a grip, and ornamented only with a single, thin band of gold around the center of its grip and a small, gilded cap of the same metal as its blade to end its pommel, its hilt is clearly focused more towards practicality than needless decorations. Nevertheless, its handguard both serves its purpose and shows off its maker's skill, being a roughly circular plate of the same unknown metal leading into a thin band that helps adhere the blade to the hilt into which it is built. Both of these bands are gilded, and the larger ring is decorated with countless different ancient runes in an unknown script, which seem to writhe and glow with a faint reddish-purple light when the sword is drawn, resembling the halo surrounding the darkened moon during an eclipse, the same "Vermillion Shadow" for which the blade is named.

Eclipse is generally hung in a long, plain black sheath at Rhoda's left side, made of the same glassy black wood as its hilt and suspended from her belt by a single cross-crossing golden cord so thin as to be almost invisible. Neither this cord nor the scabbard possess any signs of wear or age, much like the weapon itself.

Sword's Ability: Eclipse possesses a very interesting and potent ability, one that is dangerous not only to the wielder's enemies, but to Rhoda herself. Simply put, the sword has the power to solidify shadows under its control or turn solids under its control INTO shadows - things under its control being its own mass, its wielder's mass, the shadow cast by it, and the shadow cast by its wielder, as well as any shadow it or its user happens to be physically touching - and to manipulate said shadows. Make no mistake, however. The blade does not give its user control of these abilities. Rather, the sword seems to possess a will of its own, so long as it has been drawn, with which to utilize these abilities as it sees fit. When its wielder needs assistance, the sword itself will choose a suitable power to use, the nature of which is determined by what the wielder needs most. It also knows what its wielder is thinking, so it can act according to their plans, if it wants to. For example, say the wielder can't reach a target. The sword, noticing this, might solidify the shadow cast by its own blade, extending this and manipulating it into a bladed tendril that lashes out at a target when swung.

There are a couple major downsides to this power, though. The sword, having a will of its own, has a tendency to do undesirable things at times. For example, if it sees its wielder isn't moving fast enough or striking powerfully enough, can solidify the wielder's shadow and wrap it around them, then manipulate this shadow to speed up the user's movements and increase their strength... at the cost of their power to control their movements, as the sword essentially uses their body like a puppet. Or, it might transform their entire body into a shadow, and manipulate them against their will thus. And, although it can work with its user's plans, generally it acts entirely on its own opinions and analysis of situations, making its actions unpredictable to its wielder, whose plans are oftentimes thwarted by sudden, contrary actions of the sword. And, naturally, shadows don't equate darkness, so if the weapon is cut off from all sources of light with which to cast a shadow, it's essentially just a normal sword. And, if sheathed, it loses the power to do anything, period, as it only seems to exhibit its autonomous nature once it has been drawn.

Additional Information

Themes
General: Answer
Battle: Ultimate Truth
Battle II: Scarlet Chain
Battle III: Ihojin no Yaiba
Sadness/Loss: Moon
Light-Heartedness/Humor: Hane

Physical
Handedness: Ambidextrous. Favors her right hand for swordfighting, however.
Fitness: Physically fit, but not overly strong. Has a very flexible, acrobatic build rather than an overwhelmingly powerful, muscled physique, relying more on precise strikes with a light, sharp blade and hasty evasion in battle than she does on powerful, sweeping movements with an overwhelmingly large weapon, or on direct defense and clashes of strength.
Allergies/Medical Conditions: Has a somewhat fragile constitution. Either she catches colds very easily, or suffers from some sort of chronic illness, as she frequently succumbs to fits of weakness and coughing, sometimes even collapsing.

Others
More to be added later, perhaps.

So begins...

Rhoda Dunoir's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Anguish Clamor Character Portrait: Caine Crosswell Character Portrait: Leo Collander Character Portrait: Rhoda Dunoir Character Portrait: Aislyn Shields
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Caine Crosswell


As the five of them, each sitting an a fine horse, all most likely as parched as he was, trudged on, the horses panting and kicking up sprays of yellow grains as they walked, Caine was fiddling unnecessarily with his sword, holding it sideways as it burned back and forth from a dim red to a brilliant white. He observed the blade, curious of it's odd powers. He ran his hand along the hot steel after the fire had dimmed, feeling it's smooth metal. He suddenly swung it right, the left, almost accidentally taking his horse's ears off in the process. He then decided to return the blade to it's scabbard, before sighing, and slumping forward, observing his four companions.ย 

First of all Leo, his long-time, and really, only real friend. Not to mention partner in crime. When they'd first met, Leo had been nothing more than a street urchin, and Caine had been nothing more that a angry, spoiled (Yet dashingly handsome) brat. Now they were well known associates of Peacemark's underworld, stealing from the rich, selling the trinkets and bobbles to the fences, and giving the proceeds to the needy, and although the poor weren't exactly Caine's top priority, they were Leo's, and he would help his friend no matter what. Besides, it was a great source of fun, and an excellent boredom reliever. Caine had managed to stay out of trouble with the gaurd, seeing as he was Lord Crosswell's only son, but he wasn't sure he'd ever know how Leo managed.

He looked over to the silver haired haired girl, who was tied with him for the youngest of the group. He didn't know much about Rhoda, as was the case with most of the others, but he could tell she was just as deadly as she was beautiful. What he did know, or rather heard, was that she was a traveling swordsman...Er, swordswoman, who was somehow tied in with the ancient warriors. What scared him the most however, was that sword of hers. He didn't know exactly what it did, as she hadn't said, or if she did, he wasn't paying attention as usual, but for some reason he couldn't put his finger on, he thought that if if he tried anything with her, it'd be the last thing he ever did.

Then there was Anguish, the stoic cloaked guy. He couldn't seem to figure this guy out. He was usually somewhat good at reading people, or, at least he thought he was...now that he thought about it, he had been slapped in the face by quite a few girls..."Nevermind", he thought, "That's not important now.". Anguish seemed to be a sad fellow, but didn't give off any particular signs of sadness, which, now that he considered it, didn't make much sense, but he still maintained the thought. He seemed nice enough though, and he was sure they'd get along, or at least not get in each others way.

Finally, was Aislyn, the Interfector. As the son of a lord, he'd already known of there secret order, but that didn't make them any less mysterious and badass. Hell, he'd have wanted to join them of their job didn't consist of babysitting Lords and Ladies all day. She seemed fairly nice, if a bit controlling, but Caine was sure that came with being part of the Emperor's secret service. Not only that, but she was technically in charge of the rag-tag group.

Becoming bored with his observing, he decided to unhook his feet from the saddle, laying them forward, crossing his arms and laying down along the horses back. This however, was an absolutely idiotic idea, and no sooner than he'd became comfortable, he found himself laying uncomfortably face-down in the sand, his horse quickly galloping away towards sweet freedom.ย 

"Hey! G-get back here you long-faced tail-swisher!" he yelled at the beast, sitting up and spitting sand out of his mouth.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Anguish Clamor Character Portrait: Caine Crosswell Character Portrait: Leo Collander Character Portrait: Rhoda Dunoir Character Portrait: Aislyn Shields
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Rhoda A. Dunoir


Sighing slightly as she brushed a strand of white hair from across her scarlet eyes, forcing her flowing ponytail down over her shoulder for what seemed like the thousandth time, the young traveler looked up slightly at the sun blazing overhead, and adjusted the hood of the white mantle she'd purchased for the trip and now wore over her usual ensemble, pulling it down over her face in a futile attempt to keep the light out of her eyes. While the thin fabric of the cloak ensured that it wouldn't overheat her greatly, and the airy nature of her high cut dress - combined with the fact that she was currently riding at a fairly brisk pace on the back of a horse - meant she'd probably stay reasonably cool, it was still a desert they were traveling in, with all the burdens that entailed. Already, she was feeling a thin line of sweat settling into place over her brow, and they'd only recently begun the journey.

Ah, yes. The journey. It had been one that she had been planning for a long time. Yet, despite that, she hadn't really expected to make the trip with company. It had been almost a month now since she'd heard the ominous news, supposed sightings of the Shari and their dark masters, creatures that, since their defeat, had only really been known in legends. Yet, their presence was unmistakably a reality, and it was a grim existence that would have to be dealt with. The sword hanging from her side told her so, and, although she couldn't exactly describe or explain how she perceived this fact, she knew it to be so. It simply wasn't a matter that could be questioned. And so, guided by the blade she now carried, the sword her First Ancestor had carried long before she had even entered the world, she had set out. She was no stranger to traveling, having lived the large part of her young adult life wandering from place to place, and this trip had, at first, been no different. She had gone from town to town, either bargaining as best she could for food and lodgings, or working for those necessaries as well as for transport. Bit by bit, mile by mile, she had made her way alone across the country itself, slowly growing closer and closer to her destination. At first, her arrival in Peacemark had seemed like it would be just another such stop on her journey. And yet, in that city, things had suddenly changed somewhat. In asking around for supplies and guidance toward the legendary tower - although nobody seemed to know of its exact location, the city and its people were rich in old tales and legends that could tell her the direction in which she was supposed to go - she had abruptly been confronted by a girl, one of the companions with whom she now traveled. This girl, a member of an apparently mythical order even she had doubted the existence of, had, to her surprise, apparently already gathered several other individuals with blades like her own, the legendary swords of ancient times. Although she wasn't surprised to be found, she was slightly surprised to know that these others were also headed to the same destination as herself: the tower. Although she'd been somewhat reluctant to join, being rather wary of other people, there was a certain strength in numbers, and she couldn't have hoped to acquisition the supplies she needed in any reasonable amount of time otherwise. But, with the assistance of the Interfector girl, she could procure the necessary rations and horse for her own use. It had been a tempting offer, one she had ultimately agreed to. And now, here she was, an unknown number of miles out of Peacemark, riding alongside people she hardly knew to a legendary destination, with a weapon at her side that most people of the present age would have thought was just a fairy tale. There was a certain sense of awe to the whole situation that wasn't lost on her despite her calm, stoic demeanor, a sense that had remained with her from the moment she'd been guided to this place up to the present.

The silence that had fallen over the group hadn't been broken for some time now. Each rider merely stared ahead, guiding their horses only in the vaguest sense and simply scanning the horizon idly with their eyes. The only sounds were the quiet whine of the wind across the endless sea of sand, the measured breathing of the mounts beneath them, and the dull noise of hooves kicking up sand with every step. Idly, Rhoda reached down and patted the neck of her own mount - a fine mare with a soft gray hide; a large, strong creature that was probably descended from some breed of warhorse or another, considering its rather formidable build - which, compared to the horses ridden by the rest, seemed rather fresh. She hadn't exactly pushed it very hard, simply going alongside the other riders at whatever pace they chose without ever really forcing her mount to move out of its comfort zone. Besides, she traveled light, and wasn't much of a load herself. The beast chuffed, leaning slightly into her hand as she gave it a few reassuring strokes. The traveler had found that if you treated your horse well, it would do much more for you than if you simply ignored it. There was a certain loyalty and respect that even the smallest kindnesses could instill in the noble beasts of the sort she now rode. This horse was no exception.

An angry cry of surprise from next to her attracted her attention. At last turning her gaze from the long, featureless path ahead, she glanced out from beneath her white hood, her scarlet eyes settling on the source of the sound in an instant. One of her traveling companions, a noble boy of some sort, if she had his manner pegged right, had evidently gotten tired of sitting up - she wasn't surprised by this, as personal comfort was usually more important to members of the higher class than physical endurance or training - and had decided to try lying down on the back of his horse, perhaps hoping to fall asleep. Well, that wasn't likely, considering the moving nature of his would-be bed, but it seemed that the horse itself had problems with the idea, as it shifted uncomfortably, evidently made slightly nervous by how its rider was moving about on top of this. This slight jolt was all it took to shake the silly boy from his precarious perch, dropping him face first into the sand while his horse began trotting out ahead. Reaching out, the white-haired rider casually caught the reins of the horse, gently prodding her own mount to stay alongside it while she brought the wayward beast to heel, slowly stopping both mounts and then turning back toward the fallen rider. Swinging out of the saddle of her own mare, she hopped dextrously down, letting go of its reins - it was well trained enough not to bolt and run like the boy's mount had attempted just a moment before - and reaching out with her now freed hand to the fallen rider, offering him some assistance in getting up while at once calming his horse as best she could.

"Are you alright?" She asked quietly as she helped the boy to his feet, speaking one to one with another member of the party for perhaps the first time since she had joined the group. Her voice was gentle and soft, an airy sound that emanated from the slightly concealing hood of her mantle. Yet her speech also held a certain firmness to it, a calm yet direct tone that, although it most certainly showed emotion, seemed to cast this aside in favor of a pointed, straight-to-the-point manner of address.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Anguish Clamor Character Portrait: Caine Crosswell Character Portrait: Leo Collander Character Portrait: Rhoda Dunoir Character Portrait: Aislyn Shields
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Leo Collander


Sitting on a well groomed horse in the annoying blaze of the sun, that Leo hated with a passion, that burned almost as bright as the sun. Everytime he looked at the sun it reminded him of that fire which scarred part of his body and took away his family. Turning his eyes down from the sky Leo looks at the reason he was brought on this journey a sword that rested on his hip. This sword and the swords his companions possesed were supposed to help somehow. Leo didn't really understand all he knew was that he needed to help.

Leo only knew one of his companions before they set out, Caine Crosswell. A noble who hates other nobles, who helped Leo steal from the nobles to make money to give to the poor, which unfortunatly got Leo into a couple tricky situations. One of these situations was where he found Dust, his sword. All in all Caine was a good friend and someone reliable to have around, however sometimes Leo wished Caine would fall off his high horse.

Suddenly a loud sound snaps Leo to attention noticing a cloud of dust nearby his horse, all Leo can do is chuckle as Caine is helped up from the ground by one of the girls. Then with a sigh Leo kicks his horse into a gallop for a short while to see if he can catch Caine's horse. Stopping before rounding a large hill Leo turns around abandoning the futile chase of the horse and returning to the group.

The setting changes from The Iron Desert to Soria

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Caine Crosswell Character Portrait: Rhoda Dunoir
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Caine Crosswell


He looked up from his sandy resting place to see Rhoda effortlessly calm his horse, bringing it back, and helping the young noble up.ย 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." He said, tugging at the neck of his parchment-colored shirt, sand falling off of his chest, and smiling sheepishly at the hooded young lady. "I've uh...never really been an animal person." He said, thinking back to the time when his sister Viola first brought home her stray cat, Lord Whiskers.ย The mangy feline had been surprisingly good around the rest of the family, but the second he saw Caine, it was if the boy had murdered the cat's family in cold blood, and drank an entire mug of milk right in front of him. He still had scars on his back from that day. Not to mention his immobilizing fear of birds. He shuddered at the thought.

He carefully got back up onto his horse, being careful this time to sit in the proper riding position. He reached into his saddlebag and withdrew his canteen, taking a long overdue gulp of the luke-warm water.ย 

"So," He began looking over to the fairer rider. "Where are you from?"ย 

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Anguish Clamor Character Portrait: Caine Crosswell Character Portrait: Leo Collander Character Portrait: Rhoda Dunoir Character Portrait: Aislyn Shields
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Aislyn Shields

No one ever expects their first to be anything amazing or something you'll look back on with pride; it generally involves someone unimportant, the action is lackluster, and the result is both disappointingly early and unsatisfying to any degree. Most won't even talk about their first unless they're drunk and feel like joining in on the self-deprecatory ridicule of each other. The obvious reason for this lack of quality is, obviously, the lack of experience the person has. It supposedly gets better after a few times, you have more experience and are generally given more opportunities once you complete that awkward first time. That's what they say anyway, but Aislyn wouldn't be able to find out if it was true for quite a long time; journeys across the kingdom don't tend to end quickly.

Though, it must be said, that after a few horror stories about what other Interfectors had to do for their first assignment, escorting a bunch of children around doesn't seem too bad. The Rhoda girl seemed pleasant enough, even though being around her put the older girl on edge, and Anguish, from that house who seemed to have a tradition for passing down a horrible name, was at least quiet. Caine, someone who likes pissing away the comfy life thousands would gladly kill for, was another story, and Leo suffered from being his associate. After assembling all the people she had been able to find who had acquired, through legitimate means or thievery, one of the sacred swords, they made their way through the Iron Desert. She had received the five fine horses from her commander in Peacemark and was to take both them and their swords to the Tower of Istrikahn, a mission of apparently divine importance, but not one that required a more seasoned Interfector, or ten of them for that matter.

The workings of both the Gods and the upper echelons of the Interfectors would likely always be a mystery to Aislyn, because she was very aware of what was strapped to her back. A weapon that incredible, that destructive, and four others just as powerful were being carried by children across the desert, alone, without any proper security beyond the only recently accepted Aislyn. Forget about demons and the Gods, what were they supposed to do in the event that bandits showed up, or rebels, or any other force more organized than these five? Yes, the Interfectors are skilled warriors and excellent guards, but there is a limit to their skills and it likely falls short of an opposing army.

Regardless of her worries over what her commander's were thinking assigning her to this mission alone, she was now leading these people to do their gods' work against something that means to kill them along with everyone else. So, with that pressure weighted on her shoulders, the sudden sound from behind her and the loud calls that followed; apparently, the young lord had forgotten how to ride a horse and fall off. While some unbroken horses might throw off a rider, the ones that they were given were certainly well-trained and, therefore, the blame could solely be placed upon something the rider did. To prevent something like this from happening again and slowing them down further, Aislyn turned her horse as Caine and Rodah remounted theirs.

"It's good that you are unharmed, but we need to hurry and cross the desert before anything happens. Please refrain from doing anything that will delay us further." Turning back around and continuing with the pace she had set prior to whatever accident had just occurred, a slight smile appeared on her face; it wasn't often that she was able to tell others what to do.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Caine Crosswell Character Portrait: Rhoda Dunoir Character Portrait: Aislyn Shields
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Rhoda A. Dunoir


The enigmatic cloaked figure simply nodded in response to the boy's sheepish reply, gently releasing his hand, turning, and hopping up onto her own mount once more. Her movements were fluid, swift, and seemingly effortless, almost as though she was some kind of a ghost simply floating back up into the saddle instead of actually having to climb it. Her scabbard clacked softly against the saddlebag, the only sound she made save for the quiet hiss of the sand as her feet left it, causing countless tiny grains to cascade down into her wake, obliterating her footprints the second she left them.

For a moment, she was completely silent, and it seemed as though perhaps she wouldn't answer the young noble's question, as the party's guide quickly interjected with a gentle scolding. In response to the Interfector's admonition, Rhoda merely nodded, and remained quiet for a moment. However, just when it seemed like she wouldn't speak any further, her quiet voice once more emanated from her white hood, nearly drowned out by the wind that spent the desert continuously.

"Wargleam," Rhoda answered in a single word, her voice quiet, stoic, and perhaps even somewhat unnerving. "Dunoir House. It's... just outside the city." It was strange, listening to her speak. Her words came slowly, and were very subdued and soft. Neither her speech nor her demeanor betrayed any of the thoughts going through her mind at the moment, both being concealed behind a calm, tranquil mask. Hearing her, one couldn't be sure if she was quiet because of some sort of shyness that crippled her attempts to speak, or if it was because she for some reason had literal difficulty talking. She was a mystery, and she was one that became only more enigmatic the more you knew about it.

Drawing forth her own canteen and taking a small sip, she quickly capped the waterskin once more and returned it to the saddlebag, giving a slight nod of her her in the direction of the rest of the party to signal that they should probably start moving. Gently prodding her mare, she once more set off at a slow trot, quickly coming alongside the others and simply joining them in mutual silence. What had been asked of her had been answered, and what she could do to help had been done. Now, all there was to do was to continue on their journey. It was as simple as that.