Blind to the World--------V6, Turich (3rd Board)

Well, Celera thought she had heard enough, though she didn't understand entirely how the dragon communicated, she thought she had all the pieces of the puzzle she needed, and then there was the male avian who also had done a good job of mustering up some words...Although she still felt that if she were to go, she'd be betraying her hometown by abandoning them...But surely, from the description of this new threat...If worst came to worst and they did nothing to stop him, wouldn't the worst betrayal to her home be to just sit here, well and truly blind to the danger, and allow an enemy to steamroll through and burn away generations of folklore and knowledge?

They had only appeared moments ago, but she knew this could be no coincidence, god Celtus would have sent these foreigners with a meaning...Who was she to refuse a divine sign?

"In that case, I'll travel with you to Racksom..." She wasn't sure she could hold her own in a fight, but perhaps she could help with her knowledge of power transfer from beasts of magic to others? And possibly with some of her limited knowledge of healing. "Even though...I know nothing about this uh" She took a moment to find the word "This avian, he speaks honestly. But how about all of you? I, I may not know much about what this devil is like, but any effort to keep Dragons Cove clean of evil is....is a good one." She paused awkwardly for a moment, "Oh and, I am Celera by the way, everybody..."

Was that really all the interest these people had in a goblin? A few glances!? Kagan switched his false curiosity look for one oof dissapointment. Granted, there were dragons ih that group, but still, goblins weren't that common either! Well, if they don't ask me for help, He thought, letting a puff of smoke escape his lips I'll just have to offer it. But if he came on too strong, which was sadly all-too-easy for a goblin, they may not trust him. And so, there was only one thing he could do: Act disgustingly meek and nervous, while at the same time being interested. Just the thought sickened him, but for some reason or other the more compassionate races seemed to go for stuff like that. Well, the children and the high class snobs did anyways. So, resisting the urge to throw up, he shuffled foreward, making his ears droop sadly as he moved.

"Ah..." Kagan began articulately, jarring his brain for the common language. "You all ur, ah, goin' fer Zurtear? I, ah, want tur help, if das okay?" Smooth, Kagan. Smooth. That didn't sound wierd or anything. Well, as long as it worked.

((Gah! Short, uninteresting, and the accent is terrible. But I had to post.))

A sense of pride blossomed in Talos' chest at hearing everyone agree with his idea that getting out of Turich was a good one. He wouldn't be able to leave with the dragons, they simply didn't need to carry gear and supplies like he did. Not to mention... He spared a glance a Mai, who was looking timid as always, clinging to his arm. There were a few goodbyes he would have to say before running off to play hero on the battlefront. His train of thought was interrupted by a gravely voice that came from the amoebas blob that had detached from the building as a separate shadow some moments ago. Though he couldn't make out the specific form of the person speaking, he could hear them just fine, and wondered vaguely from what sort of place an accent like that would hail from.

"The more the merrier." He replied in the general direction of the speaker that was Kagan. Whoever or whatever he was seemed a tad nervous, then again, the woman that declared herself as Celera seemed so be likewise cautious about getting involved in all of this. With those thoughts out of the way, he lifted his head to speak to the rest of them. "I've got things ter pack and people to say goodbye to. Racksom don't need more refugees without a penny to their name 'an nothin' ter fight with but sticks 'an stones. I'll talk to who I can, 'an see if any of 'em that are sleepin' are willin' to fight once they know 'bout it. There's no point in passin' up willin' bodies. Yer the messenger, right, Rilos? Then keep flyin' an' tryin' ter spread the word. The rest 'o us'll go 'an fortify Racksom." Then he grinned, a low chuckle escaping him, and to the group simply said. "Happy huntin'."

The streets of Turich were silent and black again once the mismatched party had disbanded and gone their separate ways. The morning saw the small village as a lonelier place, a few members of their sparse population having left for the southern regions. Their journey was nearly of mythical status among the remaining villages, for peace had been so commonplace for so long, that hardly anybody in the little town nestled among the mountains could really fathom what it meant for their loved ones to go to war. So far removed from the action, it could take weeks or months to hear of the fate of Racksom, if their own kin weren't the first to bring it back to them.

All across the realms of Dragons Cove, echoes of the terror that befell the city of Quinsilla was whispered from door to door, a tale carried on the tongues of bards and gossipmongers. As interest grew, so did the number of willing fighters that gathered behind the walls of Racksom, or made peace with the invaders in the south and joined their fell clan of usurpers. Dark times were on the horizon, and the winds of change blew ferociously as the gears of time began to grind and creak with renewed vigor after generations of stillness.