Grace suddenly burst through the door, and gave Perrigan a quick salute. "Headmaster! Headmaster Brallin is here to see you, I tried to get you first, but . . . . "

Striding through the door and past Grace was a large man with a ragged red beard that could be seen jutting out from beneath a green hooded cloak. Slowly the man pulled his hood back to show a pockmarked face with a cold, hazel eyed stare. That stare landed on Perrigan, and the man known as Brallin crossed his arms. "Headmaster Perrigan."

Perrigan set his jaw again and stood up from his place at the table. "Headmaster Brallin. What is the reason for this interruption?"

"This can't wait, Perrigan. Your Rangers have been intruding in my territory on Double Rock Ridge."

"I can assure you my Rangers know to stay away from that area . . .”

"Then how do you explain the broken bones my men suffered just this morning?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about, but I will look into the matter immediately."

Then Brallin noticed Gren and narrowed his eyes at him. "You", he pointed a finger, "I saw you personally. Two days ago in Persetti Village."

Izira took a drink of her water as the men exchanged words. A brow lifted when he pointed at Gren. "If you saw him, then I take it you saw me as well then Sir." Izira stood up, allowing the man to take her in. "I am no ranger, I own an inn." With a short smile she said,” Is it your intention then to tell a citizen that I cannot walk in certain territories because of my companion?" Tilting her head, "I was not aware rangers had taken to discouraging others from enjoying nature."

Brallin's cold stare landed on Izira. "I have no problem with enjoying nature, woman, I have a problem with other Guilds sending their Rangers to encroach on my territory. How do I know that one of Perrigan's Rangers didn't just bring his 'companion' along with him for a convenient excuse? This argument is not between me and you, it is between me and a fellow Headmaster." Brallin leveled his index finger at Perrigan. "This is my final warning. If I catch any more of your men where they don't belong, there will be more than bones broken. You've own me a debt of blood for years and this time . . . I intend to collect." Brallin swept the Cafeteria with one final glare, then replacing his green hood he marched from the building, slamming the door behind him.

Izira was tempted to scorch the man but remained looking at him with unimpressed amber-brown eyes. She didn't move as he left, watching the door. She glanced back at the table, "Pleasant sort." She said with a thin smile.

Grace rolled her eyes and scampered out behind Brallin to make sure he left the Compound. Perrigan, too, stared at Brallin's back as he left the Cafeteria, then he grunted a bit in displeasure. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Izira, especially today of all days."

"No need to apologize Perrigan. It is information to have, if nothing else. And now I have a face to put to the name." She moved back to stand behind Gren and put a hand on his shoulder. "I apologize that our trip into the territory added to your trouble with the man."

Perrigan waved it off with a hand. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. I'm more concerned with what supposedly happened on Double Rock Ridge. Crawford, do me a favor and go check at the guardhouse to see if anyone knows what happened." Crawford nodded and quickly hurried from the Cafeteria. Perrigan then focused his gaze on Gren. "So I take it you found Izira's ring at Persetti then?"

Gren gulped and nodded. "I didn't have my cloak on, I hoped he would have just seen us as two tourists."

Perrigan chuckled, "Well, it almost worked. Maybe you should stay away from that cave until things cool down, hmm?"

"From the sounds of the exchange, I would not wager on it cooling down within a lifetime." Izira looked down to Gren, "Perchance I should return there on my own to hinder them from making unwarranted accusations?"

"No, I don't think that would be a good idea. Brallin's seen your face, they probably will think we've sent you as a spy. It's alright, we'll think of something if the need arises. I've been in and out of his territory during tense times before”, Gren replied.

"Hopefully that won't be necessary", Perrigan added. "We haven't had a Ranger War in years and I'd like to keep it that way."

"I cannot begin to think why one would even need to spy on them." She shook her head, tucking a length of hair behind her ear. "Brutish foolishness."

"Logic and Brallin don't necessarily go together. He's a very untrusting, combative person. We just need to be cautious for a while." The door opened again, and Crawford walked in with two young men in their twenties with grey cloaks. One was being held up by the other and covering his eye.

"Headmaster, we are here to report on the incident at Double Rock Ridge."

"Go on, Rendrick", said Perrigan.

"Sir, Sorrel and I were doing our patrols on the eastern edge of our territory. We heard cries of distress coming from on top of Double Rock Ridge, so we climbed up to investigate. Brallin's Rangers were waiting for us. They said we invaded their territory and we had to pay. They . . . . they beat us pretty bad, Sir. We were lucky to make it without any major injuries”, Rendrick reported.

The other Ranger who must have been Sorrel spoke, "It looked like a setup, Sir. There wasn't anyone up there other than Brallin's folk." Sorrel was sporting several large bruises and a cut, bleeding lip.

Izira nearly muttered something again at the report the two rangers made but she bit her tongue. Literally. It was ranger matters, best left to rangers. Surely, having dealt with them for this long Perrigan was better versed in how to deal with it. The air was warm around her, however. Izira disliked bullies.

"Yolene, take Rendrick and Sorrel to the House of Healing. The other Rangers and I will clean up here", Perrigan said, then turned back to the two. "Rest and Heal. I'll check in on you later."

"Yes, Sir." Yolene removed her apron and escorted the two wounded Rangers out the door.

Perrigan leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. "What is Brallin's game? Why start a fight with us now? This is more than just mere guild rivalry."

"Have you heard any news coming out of his territory?" Gren asked.

Perrigan shook his head, "Nothing more than rumors. But a little information wouldn't hurt." Perrigan snapped his fingers. "Bernard. He hasn't seen Bernard's face. I'll send him to ask a few questions. Discreetly of course. Haddon, go let Bernard know what I need him to do."

"Whatever you say, Headmaster", Haddon said, and left the Cafeteria to deliver Perrigan's message.

"I think the party is over." She gave a slow exhale, "Would you accept assistance on cleaning up?"

"Not at your own engagement party. We'll handle everything. Gren, why don't you take Izira home? I need to make plans once we are done here." Gren nodded. "Yes, Headmaster. Thanks for the party. Sorry about all this."

Izira softly nodded. It was hard for her to not start stacking up the dirty plates, but she resisted. "Thank you for the party. I hope this ugly business does not hinder you returning the inn for too long." Izira offered good-byes to those that remained, small nods or a light touch, depending on how she knew them. Perrigan was afforded a light hug.

Perrigan returned Izira's hug and offered her a smile. Moriana waved goodbye, then set about cleaning off the tables with some of the other Rangers in attendance.

Gren gave his goodbyes as well, then ushered Izira out the door. "Hoo boy, let's just hope Perrigan can handle this and everything blows over soon."

"Indeed." Izira stayed close to Gren, thinking of the marks upon the other two rangers. "I fear I have a poor understanding of the rangers... I did not know you could... war with one another."

"Well, that is very rare. Normally, like Perrigan said, it's more rivalry type stuff. 'My Guild's better than your Guild', so it's just bar brawling or petty squabbling. We all realize how unproductive a war would be, the Rangers are stretched thin enough as it is. But that doesn't mean a War can't, or hasn't happened. Usually it’s when things have been pushed to the breaking point for whatever reason." Gren walked with Izira to the gate, and led her out of the Compound and up the forest road.

"I hope Perrigan is able to resolve the issue soon." She ran her hand down his arm to wrap her fingers with his. "We have better things to plan for."

He entwined his fingers with hers and squeezed. "Yes, we have our whole life ahead of us. And speaking of planning for things, there's the Baron challenge coming up."

"I was thinking more toward... how long you wanted our engagement to be." She softly grinned at Gren, "But I can wait until after the challenge. I assume we are not going to need to be married before it."

Gren laughed. "No, I don't think that is a requirement. But sure, after the Challenge is decided, I'm all yours for planning out the wedding. Did you have anything specific in mind, other than having it at the Inn?"

"A couple other things, but they can wait. We need a date first." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "There is also a honeymoon to think of..."

"Ooohoohoo, the honeymoon! I wouldn't even know where to start with that! Someplace romantic to spend a week or two at?"

"What would you consider romantic?"

"Well . . . . somewhere secluded, private, but also someplace where we could have fun, like dinner and dancing . . . "

"Sounds like the inn." She chuckled softly.

"No offense to the Inn, but we'll be there for the rest of our life. I'd like to go someplace that's . . . different. Someplace where you and me can enjoy each other's company without anything . . . or anyone we know around."

"We could go to a beach." That would be very different from their day to day surroundings, "Sand, water.... swimsuits. Or no swimsuits, depending."

"Hmm . . .” Gren turned a bit red thinking about the possible implications. "That would depend upon how . . . private the beach is. But that would sound nice. A private seaside beach house, near someplace where we could go for a nice meal. I think that might be nice."

She smiled more, seeing his reaction. "Then I put you in charge of finding the perfect private spot for us..."

"Eh . . . uh . . . okay, I'll do it." A bit flustered at being put on the spot, but he liked the idea, so he agreed.

"And be rewarded handsomely for your efforts." Her smile was suggestive.

Gren pursed his lips thoughtfully and suddenly realized the benefits of taking responsibility for that particular task. "Well then, I'll have to do a good job. I see how important a honeymoon is for a new bride."

"Mm... I am looking forward to being your bride, my ranger."

"I'm looking forward to our honeymoon, my innkeeper."

With a soft chuckle, "I am happy to give you a preview when we get back to the inn... help to forget the ugly business with those other rangers."

"It's only natural, I mean there's a lot of planning that goes into a wedding. And maybe we could practice for the honeymoon . . ." Gren tried to look upwards and innocent but he failed miserably.

"I heard it makes perfect." Watching his failed innocent look, her eyes roamed over him as she lightly bit her lower lip. "I would... hate for our honeymoon to be a failure due to lack of preparation."

"Then I think it's our duty to make this the most perfect wedding ever. We could start right now . . . your place or mine?"

"So not right now...” She chuckled up at him.

"Practice, remember? We have to imagine my treehouse is a romantic beach house."

"Lead the way."

And he did.

Walking back from the Market, Gren was still eating what was left of his pecans he had gotten from Ebon. "I wonder what was supposed to be so funny about pecans?"

Izira walked behind Gren, silent for a second, lost in her own thoughts. Her lashes fluttered, registering the question but forgetting the reference. "Hm?"

"Pecans?" He held up the bag that Ebon had given him. "Hey, what's wrong? You've looked a little sad ever since we left the Market."

She gave a slight shake of her head to the offered nuts. She missed the chance to turn the offering into some playful innuendo. "I... chose to take my mother's name, Gren. After her death... after.... what happened to her."

Gren blinked for a moment, then lowered the bag of snacks. "No, Izira, I know that. You've told me before. Is this because of what I said about your name?"

"Yes... spooky as you might think it is... it is my name. It is who I have been for so long. I am... not sure I wish to shed it like a skin I am done wearing."

"First of all, if I really had that much of a problem with your name, do you think I would have dated you for four and a half years, or got engaged to you? Second of all, I know how you feel more than you think I do. Blockman is the only thing I can remember from who I was before. So do you think I want to shed that name and become Mister Nyte? Lastly, your name sounds like Night. Night is spooky. It's just a silly pun, like when Tara calls me Blockhead."

She chewed her lower lips, "Would you... want to share?"

"How about we make a compromise a lot of couples are making nowadays. How about "Nyte-Blockman"?"

"You are okay with me coming first?" She looked sideways to him with a soft smile.

Gren blinked. "Wait, you want me to take the Nyte name?"

"And I take Blockman." She quirked the side of her smile amused. "Why not? We are partners."

"We are partners. Well, there's nothing that says either of us have to change our names. You can be Nyte and I can be Blockman."

She softly laughed, "I take it you prefer to stay Blockman?" She shrugged a shoulder. "Time enough to think on it."

"If you're that attached to Nyte, then I'm that attached to Blockman. Yes, there is time to think about it." He paused for a few moments. "You know . . . Sapphire said you were Lady Blockman in her world. Apparently your alternate version doesn't have a problem with it." He glanced at her to see her reaction.

"Perhaps my alternate version has a living mother and father and was raised by them."

"If that alternate world has Harris and Jewell as a couple, then I guess all kinds of things could be going on there." He sighed. "Look, we've been together as boyfriend and girlfriend for four and a half years. We took things slow, so we could get used to each other. Being engaged is like the same thing. This just kind of happened a few days ago, but there's no rules saying we have to get married right away. Just like with the name thing, we might have to ease into things slowly. Let's just get used to the idea that we're both engaged, and the rest will flow from there. Alright?"

"I can agree to that", she said with a soft nod and light smile. "Perhaps in that alternate world, you were married to Tara before me."

"Oh, don't even say that! Can you imagine the complexes their poor children must have? Oh man, I just thought of something. If Harris' alternate children can invade RhyDin, then what about . . . ?" Here he pointed to himself with a pale look on his face.

"The alternate you?" She looked him over and got a wicked hint in her grin. "Hmm."

"You know . . . cheating on me with alternate versions of myself is still considered cheating."

"Even if you are there too?"

"I have enough problems getting naked myself without seeing multiple versions of naked me's. Geez, how did we get off on this subject anyway?"

"You brought up the idea of another you."

"Yeah, but I didn't say I wanted to be with multiple versions of you. That sounds . . . exhausting."

She softly chuckled, "Good. I have no interest in sharing you."

"Well, I'm glad we've got all the 'alternate versions of ourselves' ground rules laid out. See? This engagement phase of our relationship is coming along nicely."

Her laughter bubbled out, a smile breaking wider. Izira leaned into him, tilting her lips up for a kiss.

Gren shared the laugh, glad the tension had been eased. He leaned forward and placed a firm, loving kiss on her lips. "I'm sorry I called your name spooky."

"You can make it up to me..."

"You know, I feel I might have to . . . right after I finish my giant turkey leg." He pulled the large piece of meat out from his backpack and took a gargantuan bite. "This might take a while . . . " He said, muffled, although he was already starting to smile big.

She picked a bit of meat off the leg and ate it. "Eat up, you will need the energy My Ranger."

As they approached his treehouse, he held his turkey leg up in the air, "Suddenly I feel like one of my alternate personalities, Super-Gren!" He tucked the leg away and swept Izira up in his arms. "Come, my love, it is time to enjoy the rewards of a long day of Super-Gren-heroics!" Opening his door, he strode inside, shutting the door behind them.

A serene smile remained on Izira's features after parting with Eva for the night. It had been a while since the two had been able to get together and the night proved to be what Izira needed. Now she walked through the evening’s peaceful woods, looking oddly at place despite the fashionable attire she wore. The light maroon cloak drifted with her movement as she headed for Gren's treehouse.

Gren was sitting at his table by the window in his treehouse, looking out at the night sky. He had the green leather bound journal with the leaves etched in the spine that Izira gave him. He had always thought about keeping a journal, so he decided that night to try. Scribbling some things into the pages, he hoped it would be enough of a start that he would want to continue it.

Approaching the tree house, Izira looked up to the window to see if Gren still had the light on. She smiled to herself to see he was still awake. Despite having a key, Izira made it a habit to let Gren know when she arrived, given his previous tendency to attract crazy women that enjoyed breaking into his home. Izira moved up to the door giving it the special knock/whistle combo that would allow her access into the clubhouse without getting water dumped on her.

Gren's head could be seen, peering down at the door to see who it could be this late at night, and his face brightened as he saw it was Izira. He jogged down the steps and to the door, still holding onto his Journal. He opened the door with a big smile. "Izira! What are you doing here?" He stood back enough to give her room to enter his home.

Stepping in, Izira gave him a kiss. There was a curious tingle of chill from the elemental wine still present in her lips. "I thought I would stay here tonight, if you will have me. I was in town to see Eva." Her hand moved to take off her cloak.

His lips pressed against hers as he took her cloak, resting it on a peg near the door. "Well, sure, I'm always glad to see you. Eva, huh? How has she been doing? Wait, why don't we sit at my table upstairs, and you can tell me all about it."

"She is doing well. Mason too. They send their congratulations on our engagement." Starting to tell him as she moved for the stairs, brushing her hand over his arm when she passed. As she walked upstairs she took down her hair, brushing her fingers through the strands to fan them out.

"That's nice to hear. I don't think I've had a conversation with either of them since the family dinner they had a few months ago. I think our fondue was a big success." Gren lightly chuckled at his own ingenuity. He followed her up the staircase and past the kitchen. "Did you have anything to eat? I can get you something if you want."

"It was a success, though I think you were the biggest fan." Soft chuckling. Izira appreciated the enthusiasm in which Gren enjoyed things. It was one of the many things that made her love him. "I had a small dinner at home before meeting Eva for drinks." She stopped in the kitchen, fixing herself a glass of water. "But if you are hungry..." Ice formed in the glass as she moved on to the bedroom and the table by the window.
"Oh, no, I'm fine. I ate a little while ago. Nothing great like you would have cooked, but that's alright." Gren sat down at the table across from Izira. "I was just writing things in the journal you gave me. Or trying to anyway." He briefly held up the journal to prove his point.

"Does trying mean you have not written anything or that you have not gotten far in your writing?" Setting the glass down, Izira slipped out of her heels and tucked them under the table. Her feet finding a resting spot on his lap.

"Well, I haven't gotten very far, but I hope to mmmmm . . ." Her feet in his lap caused him to momentarily lose his place. He nicely recovered by setting the journal on the table, then massaging one of her feet. "I always wanted to keep a journal. Your gift will make that happen."

She was sipping her water when his thoughts lost their place and the glass could not hide the curve of her smile. Her eyes briefly closed as he started to massage her foot. "Mm. I am glad it can be useful to you."

He began working on the other foot as he spoke. "Maybe one day we can both meet Eva and Mason, like a double date. Whether somewhere in the City, or maybe just at the Inn."

She nodded to the idea, "I suggested that they come out to the inn sometime. Given they have already gone through the process, they could lend some pointers on setting up a wedding ceremony."

Gren kind of smirked. "The way I remember it, Eva and Mason had a private ceremony. Not exactly what you would call a traditional one. But hey, every little bit helps."

"As Eva said, Mason is more the event planner... but I thought it a good opportunity to have them visit. Any help with it would be appreciated given it's barely been a week and we already had a hiccup over names." She poked him with a toe, teasing him.

Gren chuckled over that. "Hey, when we're married, we'll argue over lots of stuff, that's what married couples do. So do you think Eva would be your Maid of Honor? Geez, I haven't even really thought about who my Best Man would be."

"Haddon?" Izira chuckled at the suggestion. "I intend to ask her, when more details are ironed out."

"Good Lord, not Haddon. I can only imagine the Bachelor Party he would throw. Maybe Bernard. Or Crawford. I didn't think there would be this many decisions involved in a marriage!"

"Hm. Yes. Though, knowing him, he will use the excuse of you being married to throw one anyway. Be mindful of that." She took another drink of her water, "There is the decision on who will marry us... the... type of ceremony. Are there any ranger traditions?"

"I know one tradition is that we can be married by our Headmaster, considering he is in a position of authority. Several Rangers liked that idea because it was like they were getting the blessing of the guild. We could always get a priest if you prefer that way."

Izira laughed lightly at the suggestion, then shook her head. "No, I can think of no one better than Perrigan to do the honors."

"Great! I think he would love to do it." Gren smiled broadly at that and looked into her eyes. "If only all our decisions were that easy, hmm?"

"The decision to accept your proposal was not too difficult." Izira set her water down, her feet moving back to the floor. Standing up, she moved over to settle in his lap, her fingertips moving through his hair.

"Well, it's one thing to ask it, and it's another thing to plan for it." He rested one hand on her back and one on her thigh. "When I asked you to marry me, I wasn't thinking about who my Best Man would be or what our last names would be or where or when it would take place."

Izira considered telling him about the conversation she had with Eva on the name she once held, a light nibble of her lower lip as the thought ran through her mind. Looking at Gren she saw no need to bring it up, it was a different time. It was her past and this was her future. "I have faith in our ability to weather what comes our way." She ended her words with a light kiss. "Perhaps Alfred would like to be the ring bearer?" She softly chuckled. "Though, if Yolene is the flower girl, Crawford would be best for that role... unless you have him as your Best Man." All the complicated details.

"Unless you want to hear Alfred let out a string of obscenities in the middle of the ceremony, I suggest we keep him on the sidelines. Bernard as the Best Man and Crawford as the Ring Bearer sounds fine with me." Gren sighed. "I hope Bernard makes it back in one piece, so he can be the Best Man."

As amused as Izira was with the idea, it would probably not be as entertaining the day of. Gears switched as Gren mentioned Bernard's mission, "You have not heard anything yet on the matter?"

"No, not yet. Although he's going deep undercover, so to speak. We probably won't hear from him for days, maybe weeks. Everyone seems on edge about what happened. That's the last thing we need is to get into a war with Brallin."

"Weeks?" Izira frowned, "I will keep him in my thoughts." A pause before adding softly, "I am glad it is not you in his place."

"That's the silver lining to the cloud of Brallin catching us at Mannix's cave. I'm sure Bernard will be alright. He's done missions like that before. Besides if he can get to the bottom of what's going on, we may be able to avert any more bloodshed."

"That is good." Izira said, with another brush of her fingers through his hair. "I spoke with Eva about the cave, you can thank her for talking me out of the idea of returning there until after this mess is sorted."

"Point for Eva." He chuckled. Her bringing up the cave made him think about the book again. "Were you able to read any more of Mannix's book?"

Izira lightly shook her head, "Not as of yet."

"Then we won't have anything to worry about for a while." Since they were on the subject, Gren thought of something else. "You said that Alain found the book. Did he find anyone from your past? Your family? I thought you might want to invite them to the wedding."

"I think the wedding will be happier the fewer people from my past are present." She frowned, "I am only Ny'Halian by blood. They would not have me."

"Alright, I was just wondering. I wonder what I'm going to do with my treehouse . . . . ?"

"Perhaps another ranger would be interested in taking up residence?" She was happy to change the topic.

"That could happen. I can only imagine what would happen if Haddon or Moriana took over this place. I can see empty food containers stacked to the roof."

"Crawford? Bernard?" Izira offered other suggestions.

"Now there's an idea. This could be Crawford & Yolene's new love nest. Although Yolene being our Healer, I don't think Perrigan would want her out this far. And Bernard is always on missions. This place might end up in the hands of one of the newer recruits. Like Gerard and Allen, if they ever decide to stop following Brienne around all day."

"I do not see that happening for a while." She kissed Gren's forehead, "There is time to think on it." Her fingers left his hair, trailed down his neck and over his chest.

"I, uh . . . . hmmmmm . . . yeah, let's think about it later. Much later. Right now I'm thinking about you . . . and me . . . oh, man . . ." He gulped as her fingers ran down his chest. "In fact I can't think of anything else right now."

"The good news is... you do not have to think." Standing up, her hand taking his, she drew him to the bed.

Gren walked toward his own barracks there at the Compound to secure his gear for the impending mission. He was rubbing his temples and had a paranoid look on his face.

Haddon was chuckling to himself. "I must say, I gotta admire the guts of the Little Missy there."Fire burns in my veins"? "There are those that know me as Lady Death"? Haw haw! She spends all day drinking tea and playing piano! I just hope you know what you're doing, Gren my boy."

Gren didn't say anything back. Part of him wanted Izira on the mission, and the other part was cursing him for being the worst fiancee in the history of romance to willingly let her walk into danger. Finally, he got the nerve to speak. "Haddon, right now, I just want to get Bernard, and get myself and all of us, including Izira, back home safely. I'll deal with the "Lady Death" speech later."

Haddon shrugged, "Alright, buddy. You know I'll watch out for her. And so will Mori and Crawford."

"Yeah, I know."

Meanwhile, Moriana led Izira to her bunk. Her room was a spartan one, just her bed, a table & chair, and a cabinet & dresser with her clothes. Moriana rifled through her belongings, looking for something Izira would be able to wear. She held up a brown shirt and pair of pants. Not very fashionable, but fashion wouldn't be needed where they were going.

"Boots." Izira was not bashful about her body, nor put off by the clothing. Need trumped fashion by far. She was getting out of her clothing and putting on the articles Moriana had given her. "Do you have a tie?" She gestured to her hair, "I need something more secure for this."

Moriana nodded. You have to put on the shirt and pants before you put on your boots. She came up with an old pair of leather boots from beneath her bed. A leather strip was given, enough to wrap around her hair. She also produced face paint in forest green, brown, and black. She waited for Izira to finish changing before she would apply it.

Izira dressed in the brown shirt and pants. Boots, at least, were a familiar thing - even if not stylish. She tied them up. The iconic bun forsaken, Izira pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "If Gren does not recognize me, it is likely the other rangers will not either." With a thin smile, she stood still for the face painting, a far cry from the one she'd gotten during Beltane.

Moriana quirked her mouth at Izira's comment, then applied a base paint of forest green all over Izira's face. She finished it off by giving her brown and black stripes so she would blend in with the foliage. Once the face paint was finished, Moriana opened her cabinet and withdrew a spare grey cloak, holding it out for Izira to wear.

Taking the cloak, she wrapped it around her shoulders. Standing at attention, "Well, Moriana, what do you think?"

Moriana tilted her head, sizing Izira up. Then she made the "so-so" gesture, wagging her hand back and forth. A spare backpack was pulled from the cabinet. Moriana unclasped it to show Izira knives, food, water bottle, fishing line, rope, compass, and bandages within. She pulled her own over her shoulder, and nodded at the door for them to leave.

"Good enough." Izira took note of the contents of the pack, shouldering it in the same way. She marched outward and toward the front gate with Moriana to meet the others.

As Moriana and Izira approached the front gate, they would see Gren, Crawford, and Haddon standing there waiting for them, geared up and dressed much the same as they were. Haddon had a camouflage bandana tied around his bald head to cover the shine. Gren breathed out as if to steady himself. "Alright, let's go get Bernard."

The mission would be carried out on foot, horses would make too much noise. Silently, the group of five made their way eastward into the dense pine forest. "We'll stick to the forest, if we go out on the Silver River, they'll see us coming a mile away." Gren said that more for Izira's benefit. The pine forest got thicker and denser the farther they got into the hills east of Perrigan's Compound. Various birds and woodland animals could be heard, but not seen, as they skirted through the foliage.

Izira gave Gren a short nod to his explanation. Being mindful of her position within the rangers - or lack thereof, she followed their lead. Perhaps it would be surprising to the others how she managed to keep up and move silently.

A few miles went by, and they came to a muddy wagon track. Gren was in the lead. He perked up as if he heard something, and raised his fist. Immediately Haddon, Moriana and Crawford dodged behind a tree, Moriana waving at Izira to follow her lead.

Seeing the others hide, Izira moved behind a tree as well even as Moriana waved at her to do so.

Gren slowly snuck behind a tree himself, then from off in the distance a rumbling could be heard. Over a rise, a wagon could be seen pulled by a team of horses. A single, grey haired farmer was steering them. Crates were piled up in the wagon behind him. Gren slowly lowered his hand to signal there was no danger, then held his palm out to mean hold until the wagon was out of sight. Slowly the wagon meandered along the path, and finally disappeared from sight as it dipped below a hill to the south. Gren motioned everyone forward, and they continued their journey.

Silently, Izira followed behind the group - keeping an eye on them and their surroundings as best she could.

The miles of pine forest went by as they approached the border between Perrigan's and Brallin's territory. As the sun was beginning to set, they came to a wooden split rail fence that divided the forest. There was a cabin in the distance that belonged to a logging crew. Once they jumped that fence, they would be in Brallin's woods. Gren squatted beside it and gestured for everyone to huddle up. He spoke in a whisper. "That's Jorgenson's Lumber Company. On Brallin's side. We can cross here. It goes without saying. Don't speak unless it’s an emergency. Try not to step on any branches. Watch out for sounds, movements. The outpost we want is about five miles due east of here. Is everyone ready?" Haddon, Moriana, and Crawford silently nodded yes.

Another nod followed from Izira, following a weak smile to Gren.

A nod from Gren, then he hopped the fence first, peering down towards the cabin to make sure the coast was clear. He waved them forward, and the three rangers followed, while Gren held out his hand to Izira to help her if she needed it.

Taking his hand, more for the comfort than for the need of help, Izira made her way over the fence with the others. Squeezing his hand softly before letting go, she hoped she had made the right call in coming. It was too late to change her mind. She focused her thoughts on staying light on her feet, keeping herself from breaking anything underfoot that she wouldn't otherwise see.

Advancing through the lumber yard, they could see large piles of logs, freshly cut timber waiting to be transported to the City. They didn't get far when Gren put his fist up again, and they dove behind a particularly large stack. Nothing could be heard for a few moments, then far away towards the cabin, two male voices could be heard.

". . . . . happened again last night. Same as the night before."

"Aw, you're just hearin' things, there ain't nothin' to be afraid of, not with Brallin out there."

"I'm telling you it had to be a ghost or something. I ain't never heard an animal make a sound like that. This place is haunted, I tell you. Too many strange things goin' on. I think Brallin is asleep at the wheel."

"Well you better not say that too loud. The forest has ears, you know."

A long pause followed.

"Hell, let's just call it a night. I gotta get home and make sure Ness is alright."

"Fine by me. See you tomorrow. Let me know if you see another ghost. Hah hah hah."

"Yeah, real funny, smart ass."

The faint sound of footsteps could be heard as the two men went back to the cabin. Once Gren was sure he couldn't hear anything more, he motioned everyone to follow him eastward and out of the lumber yard.

From her hiding spot, Izira closed her eyes and focused on the voices of the two men. She wondered to herself what the one had heard to make him think the woods were haunted. As the steps faded away, her eyes opened, and she scanned her surroundings until Gren gave the signal to move on.

They hopped another fence and maintained their course. Even though the sun hadn't fully set, it seemed murkier than usual for that time of day. The shadows in the trees became darker and the woods became so dense it was becoming tough to find a way forward. Every once in a while they would hear a strange howling sound, and not that of a wolf. After about three miles, they could hear the rushing of a river. Gren motioned them to halt for a moment, then he crept towards the tree line, and he could see the Silver River flowing beneath him. He was grateful to know they were still on the right track. He did a quick weapons check, and the other Rangers followed suit.

Izira had the knives provided to her by Moriana, but they had never been her weapon of choice. Mostly words... and fire. A lot of fire. She felt the ring on her hand warm in response to her thoughts. She was as ready as she could be in the situation.

They kept to the trees as they hurried as best as they could, while still trying to be careful. The sound of the river was on their right. After another mile, they came to the edge of the forest. Gren signaled them to take cover as he scanned the area. The Silver River Bridge could be seen off to the distant right. It was an old stone bridge that looked like it had been there for centuries. Before them stood a series of outbuildings that surrounded an old stone fort, which had moss growing along its walls. They waited a few minutes to see if they could hear anything, but no one could. Gren motioned for Haddon, Moriana, and Crawford to fan out and check the outbuildings, while Gren gestured to Izira to stay with him. As the other Rangers did as they were told, Gren broke cover with Izira and went up the central path. Thankfully the sun had set by now, and the darkness provided them with some cover. As they approached the fort, they could hear voices coming from within. Gren hid behind the nearest building and held his finger gently to Izira's lips.

Izira stilled as he placed his hand against her lips. She remained silent, tilting her head to see if she could hear the voices any more clearly.

Silently, the other three Rangers slipped over to Gren & Izira's hiding places, all of them nodding their heads. Gren pointed to the fort, then held up three fingers, then pointed at Haddon, Moriana, and Crawford in turn. They each signaled their understanding, then crept off towards the fort. Gren gave them a ten second head start, then motioned Izira to follow. They could see Haddon approach the wooden door, brace his shoulder, then break into a run and slam into it, causing it to crash inwards. The faint voices turned into startled cries as Moriana and Crawford pushed past Haddon and into the fort, Gren & Izira made it up to Haddon, who was rubbing his shoulder, but gave Gren a thumbs up and a grin.

They ran after Moriana and Crawford, and found them subduing three of Brallin's green cloaked Rangers. One man was already slumped in a corner, having been brained by a club from Moriana. Haddon ran up to another man that was struggling with Crawford and leveled him with a punch to the face. They then grappled the last of Brallin's men down, tied and blindfolded him. They heard a whimpering from a nearby room. Grabbing the keys from one of the subdued men, Haddon opened the door. There sat Bernard, with his shock of red hair, tied to a chair. It looked like they had beaten him for information, considering the bruises on his face and arms. Haddon pulled a knife, cut his bonds, and removed the gag from his mouth. "Thank God you guys made it . . .” Bernard began, but Gren made the "Shh!" gesture and waved them out of the fort. In the moonlight, they could see a clear path to the forest edge. Gren waved them on, breaking into a jog. It looked like they would get away clean before an inhuman shriek erupted behind them. "OH @#$%!!!" Haddon exclaimed and pointed past the fort. They could see skeletal shapes appearing from the murky gloom, outlined by the torches from the outbuildings, as well as other monstrosities whose details were lost in the night. "GO! STAY IN THE TREES!" Gren broke into a run, while Haddon hefted Bernard onto his back.

May 3, 2018



Gren slept soundly that night, and into the morning. Around 9 o'clock, there was a knock at the door, then another. "Hey, are you guys in there?" The door opened just a little, and Gren awoke in time to see Yolene's face peek inside, then her eye widen and she quickly shut the door again. "Ohmigod! You guys are like . . . together!"

Gren groaned and sat up in the cot. "No, it's alright, Yolene, we were just sleeping. Nothing to see here."

A few seconds of awkward silence followed, then he heard Yolene's voice again. "Um . . . Perrigan wants to see you as soon as possible. To go over what happened last night."

"We're probably going to need a shower and some breakfast, but after that, we'll be right there."

"Okay! Sorry!" Gren heard the sound of hurried footsteps as Yolene ran off, then he looked down to see if Izira had caught the exchange or was still sleeping.

The events of the previous day had worn Izira out in such a manner that she hadn't woken up before Gren, or until midway through the exchange with Yolene. She rubbed her forehead, finding paint still on it. Truthfully, she could have gone back to sleep easily, but instead offered Gren a smile when he finally looked her way. "Good morning."

He gave her a rueful smile. "Sorry to wake you, but it seems Perrigan wants to talk to us. Sooner rather than later. There's a shower through the back door there and to the right. When we're finished, we can get something to eat."

"Are you showering with me?" With a tilt of her head, she smiled to him in that way despite her exhaustion.

"As tempting as that is, I'm afraid if I tried that we'd make Perrigan awfully upset over the . . . long delay. Let's go get this over with Perrigan, then we can have all the long showers you want."

She lifted herself up, another touch to her head. "Mm. Scratch shower. A long soak in my tub." Standing up, Izira looked around as though trying to piece together Gren's simple directions to the showers before heading that way.

"I wouldn't argue with that either." He watched her walk away, before standing and going over to the window. The Rangers were going about their daily chores. Here and there he saw someone he knew, like Moriana hurrying over to Perrigan's house. He stretched his arms and tried to piece together what all happened the night before in his mind.

Halfway to the showers, Izira thought to suggest to Gren that he get the food while she showered so she could eat while he did the same. Grimacing at her lack of focus she moved on, hoping the water would help in making her more alert. Finding her way, Izira showered. She used her gift to deal with the coolness of the water's temperature. Spirals of steam lifted from her. She tried not to linger, but with or without Gren she wanted to stay under the water's flow. Forcing herself to keep the shower short, she stepped out and used her gift for a speedy drying. She pulled her hair into a makeshift bun and made her way back to where they had slept the night before. Izira felt only slightly more alert than she'd been before.

Gren turned from the window and smiled as he saw she has finished. "Alright, my turn. No peeking." He gave her a playful poke as he walked back to wash the grime, sweat, and paint off from the night before. He let the cold water run on his face for a while, before using plenty of soap and shampoo. Turning off the water, he dried himself and went over to the dresser. Thankfully there were still some spare clothes there. He got a brown shirt and pants for himself. "Are you in the mood for anything in particular for breakfast?"

While Gren showered, Izira had pondered laying down again. That sounded like a bad idea if Gren intended them to leave soon. She looked through the room, exchanging the old clothing for an oversized shirt that she turned into a makeshift dress. There was little to be done about the boots. Gren would find her leaning by the window when he came back. "Anything. I find myself unusually famished."

"Hopefully there's some food left for us at the Cafeteria. It probably won't be as good as something you'd make, but it'll get the job done." He smiled as he put his arm around her shoulder to walk out the door. "Love your new dress."

"It is the latest fashion." She put her arm around Gren's waist as they walked to the cafeteria. She watched the coming and goings of the rangers around them.

Gren was still in a bit of a haze from the night before, but he made it to the Cafeteria, rubbing his eyes here and there. Because it was later in the morning, there were few Rangers there enjoying their breakfast. Gren walked over to the chow line and grabbed a tray, handing one to Izira. As they set them down on the counter rails, Gren peered at what was being offered. All that seemed left was a few pancakes and some unappetizing looking eggs. Gren sighed. "I thought there'd be at least something left. How am I supposed to eat this?"

"You got a problem with my cooking, buster?" The voice came from beneath the counter.

Gren at first looked stunned, then leaned forward a bit. "Eamond? Is that you?"

"You're darn skippy it's me!" Suddenly a three foot six inch gnome popped up, climbing onto a stool to be eye level with Gren. He had a long, grey beard, a bald head, and was wearing a bright red pair of overalls with a plain t shirt underneath. "It's bad enough I have to cook for all you ungrateful gluttons, but you could at least show some appreciation for all my hard work around here!"

Gren gulped a bit and tried to smile. "Sorry, Eamond, I didn't realize you were there. I didn't mean any disrespect. This is my fiancee, Izira. Izira, this is Eamond, our head cook."

Unlike Gren, Izira had no issue with the food. Being famished had not been a lie. By the time Gren was introducing her, she had picked up two pancakes, holding them together with a hand to each side, in the middle of another large bit. She smiled apologetically. She tipped her head to bow because her hands and mouth were full.

"A pleasure, my lady. See? She likes my cooking just fine”, Eamond observed.

Gren looked a bit abashed. "Hey, uh Eamond, Izira and I were on a rough mission last night. Do you think you might have anything left? Other than the last two pancakes?" Gren gave Izira a little look, even though he was smiling as he said it.

Eamond sighed and crossed his arms. "Weeellll . . . I might be able to scare up a few more eggs. And some pancakes."

"With blueberries?" Gren asked hopefully.

"Don't push your luck, kiddo." Eamond hopped down from his stool and waddled over to the stove to begin cooking.

Izira managed to look a little ashamed. That did not, however, stop her from continuing to consume the two pancakes. When she found a moment with her mouth not full, she asked, "If you happened to have any lingering bacon or sausage or ham you would be my hero, Eamond." She then finished off the pancakes in a quickness that was not typical.

A string of grumbles came from the kitchen. "Fine, fine. Just have a seat and give me a few minutes. I swear, the young people these days . . . "Then the sound of frying could be heard.

Gren shrugged and gestured to the nearest table.

"Thank you Eamond." Izira's eyes lingered on the remaining eggs and likely would have dug into them were it not for Gren moving them to a table. She sat down, watching the kitchen with ravenous interest.

After a few minutes, Eamond ambled out of the kitchen, holding a plate in each hand. They both had two large buttermilk pancakes, a helping of scrambled eggs, and a grilled slice of ham. "Bacon and sausage are the first to go, but this should fill your bellies." He set them in front of the two. "Say thank you, Gren."

Gren smiled big for Eamond. "Thank you Eamond."

"Crap, forgot the coffee. I knew I forgot something." Eamond went back into the kitchen, and return with two mugs, a silver coffee pot, cream and sugar which he sat down on the table in front of them. "That mission better have been something important. Impatient ruzzamuzzawuzza . . . "He continued to complain as he shuffled out of sight.

"Thank you, again." Izira said almost off handedly as she started eating in such a fashion that it would have given Haddon a race for his money. Easily as fast yet managing to be tidy at the same time. Izira ignored the coffee, it not being her beverage option of choice. Moving her coffee toward Gren allowed her an opportunity to steal a bit of the food from his plate.

"Hey, leave me some! I'm as hungry as you . . .!" He redoubled his efforts, putting away the pancakes and eggs as fast as he could, then finishing off his meal with the ham. He made himself a cup of coffee and sipped on it, giving his meal time to settle. "Ah. Not bad for a grumpy gnome, you think?"

"Do you think there is anything more?" She looked back to the kitchen and the leftover eggs. "Might not be too bad...."

"Hey, knock yourself out." He poured himself another cup and gave her a sideways glance to see if she'd go through with it.

Picking up her plate, Izira moved to the leftover eggs and put them on her plate. Eating the eggs on the way over to the table, her plate was empty by the time she made the short distance.

Gren kind of gaped at her. "I've never seen you so hungry before."

"I..." There wasn't really anything she could say to it. She at least felt more alert. "We should not keep Perrigan waiting any longer, Love."

Gren raised his hands defensively as if he wasn't trying to argue, and stood up from the table. They moved out of the Cafeteria, and back east towards Perrigan's home. Walking up to his door, Gren let them inside, then over to the office door, where he knocked. "Headmaster, we're ready."

"Come in then."

Gren opened the door, and there was Perrigan sitting behind his desk with a concerned look. Westerguard stood beside him with his arms crossed. Bernard sat in the chair immediately across from Perrigan, while Haddon and Moriana sat off to the side.

"Have a seat", Perrigan told Gren & Izira. There were two chairs next to Bernard, so Gren sat down in one.

On the walk, Izira chewed her lower lip, trying to suppress a lingering hunger. Walking with Gren and touching their hands together was something small to distract herself with. She released his hand when they reached Perrigan's office, following Gren inside and taking the remaining seat.

"Alright, Bernard. I want you to tell us what you can about what happened", Perrigan said.

Bernard still looked shaken, but at least he was cleaned up and bandaged. He rubbed his head and started. "I went to the Silver River Bridge outpost, trying to see if I could get any information on what was being planned. The Rangers that were stationed there all seemed afraid. They said that they heard weird noises and howling in the forest, but whenever they tried to track the noises down, they would disappear. No one there had seen Brallin in months, he's always out on patrol, they said. They think some kind of . . . dark power has taken over their forest. But they can't be sure about it."

Perrigan took a breath, then sat back in his chair. "How did they catch you?"

"I was shadowing two of the Rangers who were on their usual patrol in the forest. A bear found my hiding place and jumped out at me . . . I couldn't help but scream. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, the bear alerted the Rangers. They grabbed me and tried to interrogate me, they thought I might have had something to do with the strange disturbances."

Perrigan rubbed his forehead, then looked at Gren & Izira. "Do you two have anything to add?"

"Do you think it is possible that the Brallin we saw was not truly him? It would be curious that he storms into your territory when his own men have not seen him." She leaned forward, picking up the dish of nuts from Perrigan's desk and eating several. She paused, then explained why her mind went there, "I... such a trick was used on me." Eating again, Izira glanced sideways to Gren as she chewed, looking to see if he had anything to add.

"That's a possibility, or else Brallin is not himself." Gren cleared his throat. "We did see skeletons and werewolves at the outpost. They didn't seem like they were connected to the Rangers, but on the other hand, it felt like . . . they were waiting for us. Like this whole thing was a trap. I mean, if Brallin wanted to keep Bernard for questioning, or even as a hostage, why would he keep him in the outpost closest to us?"

"This whole affair feels like someone's playing a game with us", Perrigan agreed. He then glanced to Izira eating his snacks. "Did everything go alright with you last night, Izira?"

With an apologetic smile, she put the dish back, nearly empty. "I was... touched... by one of the skeleton creatures. There was... a sort of magical element to it, but I could not read it. I did not get the chance before it was..." She looked to Gren, then unconsciously took a few more nuts. "Set aflame." The creation of the ice raft did not seem important to her. "It did not seem to enjoy it."

"At least you came back to us in one piece. This is why we don't want you going on missions. This is dangerous work, and I'd rather not have you getting hurt or worse on my conscience."

"Headmaster, sir, she did help us. We were cornered at the river, and she created an ice raft with her powers to help us get away", Gren said.

Perrigan paused for a moment. "Be that as it may, I don't think Izira should go on any more missions. At least until this . . . situation is resolved."

She had taken the remaining nuts as Perrigan spoke, likely why there was not an immediate disagreement. Her thought was much that as foolish as it might be, she would go where Gren went. She looked to Gren.

". . . For now, maybe that's for the best. Until we figure all this out." Gren gave Izira's shoulder a little squeeze, and a pointed look. Having been with her for almost five years, he hoped she would take his hint that they should play along for now.

"Speaking of figuring things out, I believe I should have a talk with Brallin, face to face."

Westerguard immediately spoke up, "Do you think that is wise? Considering all this trouble going on, you might be walking right into a trap the way Gren and the others did."

"At the end of the day, I believe Brallin respects me. I believe I can talk to him. I will take some of our Soldiers with me, and set up a meeting at a neutral location. This might be our last chance to avoid open warfare", Perrigan added.

If Izira looked less than pleased at Gren's agreement, she could barely suppress the look she gave Westerguard. For love of Gren she bit her tongue and schooled her face. A glance to the dish, having not noticed that she emptied it. "Is that all then?" She looked around the room after asking if the meeting was at its end.

"You may go." Perrigan released Gren and Izira.

"But don't go too far, Captain", Westerguard added.

Gren nodded, and led Izira out into the foyer. "I was just trying to play it cool in there. I can tell Perrigan and Westerguard are upset and on edge. They're just looking out for you."

"They should consider watching out for themselves." She looked back toward the building, then offered another apologetic smile to him. Her hand lightly brushing his arm.

"Before we get in any more trouble, maybe we should go back to the Inn. I know you'd have to get back soon anyway, plus you can finish curbing your hunger."

She shook her head, despite the fact that she was biting the knuckle of her other hand. She took her finger from between her lips, "Perhaps you have a point. Very well."

"Perrigan will take care of it. He always does." His arm hooked around her waist as he led her to Moriana's barracks so she could get her clothes. "Thank you for your help last night."

With a soft smile, Izira kissed his cheek as they moved on to get her clothing. "Anything for my ranger."

May 11, 2018




Izira sat at the piano in the large main room of the inn. Her fingers, traveling the keys with ease, produced a sweet melody that warmed the heart. The ravens and cat were out of sight, and the bunny had not escaped his hutch recently, so the innkeeper enjoyed playing in the serene solitude. A simple navy blue shirt dress, belt with a fabric tie at the waist, paired with simple summer heels of dark brown. The lady had her hair down for the day.

Gren came walking up to the door, having spent most of the day on patrol. He dusted off his cloak and wiped his boots on the mat before walking inside. He had heard Izira playing as he was approaching the Inn, and now he stopped and smiled as he listened to her playing the sweet melody. He waited until the music finished so he could hear the whole song.

The song concluded, Izira turned and offered Gren a smile, "Did you enjoy it?"

He clapped as she finished. "Oh yes, very much. I miss not getting to hear you play when I'm away."

"All the more reason for you to keep returning." She slid off the piano stool, moving over to Gren to kiss him. Her arms wrapping around his neck, fingers toying with his hair as she pulled away, "How was your day?"

He gave a pleased little grunt as she kissed him. "Better now. Just a usual day of trekking through the forest, looking for danger. Thankfully today was a slow day."

"I enjoy your slow days, I get to see more of you."

"You know, I hate to break up your romantic greeting, but you wouldn't have something special made up for a weary Ranger who's spent all day protecting the forest, would you?"

"Hm. Did you propose to me only to solidify your source for good cooking?" Pulling away from Gren, she headed toward the bar. "I might be able to find something." Slipping behind the bar, Izira set out a Broot and a glass. Frost covered the glass as she set it down.

"No, it was to solidify our relations. The good cooking is just a bonus." He smiled and sat down at the bar across from her, pouring some of the Broot into the glass. "Would it helped if I told you how appreciative I am of all your good cooking?"

"Perhaps. If you show me later." With a playful grin, she went through the kitchen doors to rustle him up some food.

"Sounds good to me." He watched her walk through the door, admiring the way her butt swished back and forth in the blue dress. Then suddenly he got self-conscious and cleared his throat, taking a long drink of the Broot. Wiping his forehead, he glanced around the Inn to see if anything was different.

Nothing appeared amiss at the Inn. The scent of the honey-soy-glazed salmon filled the air as Izira exited the kitchen. Several thinly cut portions of salmon sat on the plate along with roasted spears of asparagus and mixed rice. A small basket of rolls with a dish of butter in the center was in her other hand. She set these before Gren, then handed him a cloth napkin holding silverware from behind the bar, "Did you get any news of what is happening with Brallin?"

"Oh, man, what a wonderful looking meal." Taking the silverware from Izira, his hunger took over as he started eating the salmon. He almost forgot to answer her question. Taking a quick drink of Broot, he replied. "Yeah, Perrigan got a messenger through to Brallin. He asked to meet him at the Jorgensen Mill cabin. You remember, that's where we were when we crossed into Brallin's territory during the mission to rescue Bernard. They both agreed to bring ten Rangers with them for security and protection. Perrigan said they have a lot to talk about, and I don't disagree."

She nodded, taking the information in. Several responses came to mind, but were not voiced as she got herself a glass of water. Finally, "I hope the meeting goes well for Perrigan." Water in hand, ice forming as she moved, Izira came around the bar to sit beside Gren.

He buttered a roll as she sat next to him. "I hope so too. I kind of thought they'd be past the point of talking after what happened with Bernard, but I think Perrigan realizes the consequences of a Ranger War, not just in lives lost, but what might happen to the forest if we're not there. If Perrigan makes a good enough case, Brallin should see that too."

Izira slightly worried her lower lip, but nodded in support. Lifting the water to drink, she stroked Gren's back with her free hand.

"They'll have the meeting tomorrow evening. I didn't get picked to go, so I'm in the clear for this mission, at least. Hopefully there will be some Rangers on hand on our side if things go bad." Gren stuffed the roll in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"Do you know any of those that were picked to go?" She felt slightly relieved that Gren was not part of the mission, but was concerned still for Perrigan's sake.

"He agreed to bring faces that Brallin knew, like Rendrick and Sorrel from the Double Rock Ridge incident. The rest are rangers that patrol the territory on the border. Westerguard said he'd stay behind and look after things."

"Will you want to be there the day after, to know how it went? I could stay at your place tomorrow night to be closer."

"Yeah, sure, that'd be great. Since you're coming over, I'll have to . . . oh, wait, I have an even better idea. How about we have that fancy dinner we talked about before you stay the night?"

She nodded in approval of the suggestion. "I will pick out something special to wear for the occasion."

"That sounds awesome. Hah. Now I have to actually think of a nice restaurant in the City. I might have one or two in mind . . . unless you had someplace you'd like to go?"

"Anywhere with you will be perfect."

"I know some friends in New Haven. The Rockinghams, to be exact. I made their acquaintance when I was Overlord for a while. I'm sure they can point me in the right direction. They know all the classy spots."

"With a nice private table?"

"Yes, indeed. Nice view, excellent food. It'll be great. You'll see."

She smiled widely and took another sip of her water. Her other hand moved from his back to his thigh, "How is dinner? As good as it looked?"

"Oh, it's amazing. The salmon . . . I love that glaze. Really tasty." He hurriedly ate the rice that was left to make sure his plate was clean. "Ahhhh that hit the spot."

"Glad you enjoyed it." She grinned a bit more, "Now... there was some talk about relations and thanking me for dinner?"

He pushed the plate away from him and smiled. "Well . . . I have to do something to repay you for this fine meal."

"Well, what do you think so far? This place is beautiful. And . . . . Large."

"It is nice." Agreeing in her own manner, she smiled across the table to him. Picking up her glass and taking a taste of the wine, she ran her foot against his leg. "The company makes the evening, however."

Content with her answer, he raised his glass of wine to give it a taste. Her leg rubbed him in mid-sip, and bubbles appeared on the wine's surface. Gren swallowed and cleared his throat. "I do love the company as well. I could get used to this." Trying to steady himself after, he tried to change the subject a bit. "Do you think we'll get salads? Bread?"

She smiled into her own glass before setting it down. "Perhaps? I am not well versed in fancy dinners outside of my own establishment."

"Well, nothing beats your cooking. If there was such a thing as a six star restaurant, that's the ranking I'd give you." Gren gave her the love-struck eyes with a big smile on his face.

"I much prefer the current ranking system." She grinned, then covered further comment with her wine as the waiter returned with the cheese tray. Bread accompanied it. "Do you require anything else at this time?" He picked up the wine bottle, allowing Izira to set her glass down before filling it. He then added more wine to Gren's glass.

"No, this is fine for now. Mmm, Gorgonzola." Gren snagged a piece of cheese and put it on one of the little crusts of bread. "Not bad. It's not fondue, but hey."

Once more the waiter bowed out. Izira picked up a bit of pear and cheese, tasting the two together.

"They caramelized these walnuts too, mm that's good." Gren started taking a little of this and a little of that from the plate. "I better save room for my entree. Especially after what I'm about to pay for it." He added that last part with a slight rueful smile.

"Perhaps they do that thing with the leftovers.... ", Izira gestured, "I saw someone at an inn once, with leftovers wrapped in foil and it was in the shape of a swan."

"Hey, that's a neat idea." He thought about it for a moment. "Well, if we're going to do that, I'd rather take the cheese and apples home, since I don't have to reheat that." He took another sip of the wine. "Wooo. I haven't had this much alcohol since . . . ", he blinked and mused, ". . . . I can't remember, really."

"The Great Helm?" She recalled that Gren would order Ales so that she would not think less of him.

He nodded in agreement. "That's probably right. Although this time, I'm not drinking this wine to impress you. I'm trying out this whole 'Fine Dining' thing." He waved his hand around a little, and took another little sip of the Merlot, making a face afterward like he sucked on a tart lemon.

"Does that mean we will splurge on dessert?" Izira picked at the cheese plate as they spoke.

"If I have room, then certainly. I want to get the full experience here." He breathed deeply as if taking in the restaurant's ambiance.

The waiter appeared, bringing out plates of fresh salad that he placed before each. The salads were tossed in a light housemade vinaigrette.

"Thank you! I won't argue with veggies." Taking a fork, he took a bite of the salad. "I like the vinaigrette. Light on the oil, but enough to give it some flavor." He at first reached for his wine glass, then thought better of it and took a drink of water instead.

"You might look a bit foolish if you argued with them." She took up her own salad fork and enjoyed the salad, as well as her wine.

"Oh, I could have argued. I could have asked if they'd take back the salad and bread, and could I get a dessert instead? I don't think I would have won that argument, though." After another sip of water, he asked, "Have you ever been in a restaurant this fancy before?"

"But that is not arguing with the vegetables. That's arguing with the staff." Izira grinned playfully. Sipping her wine before answering his other question, shook her head, "I have not... you?"

"I don't think I've ever tried arguing with a vegetable." He looked at the carrot on his fork. "Why can't you be a radish?" When he didn't get an answer, he shrugged at Izira. "No, not that I can remember. I went to Margaret Rockingham's Manor for a fancy meal when I was Overlord." He shuddered at the memory. "She put aioli on everything." He mouthed the word 'mayonnaise' afterward as an explanation.

Izira's delicate chuckle filled the air at Gren's antics with the carrot. "You poor thing. However did you manage?"

"I threw up a lot", was the simple answer. "But I forgave her. It was her great-great-grandmother's special recipe."

"Oh my..." She gave Gren a concerned look, then took a sip of her wine again. She patted his hand.

"I . . . survived." He gave her a tragic look after the hand pat.

"And I am glad you did, otherwise I might be here with myself with noone to talk to but for the vegetables." And not even that as her salad plate was cleared.

"Yeah, I wouldn't suggest you talk to vegetables in a public restaurant." He finished right behind her, nibbling on some more cheese while he waited for his entree.

"I have done worse." Picking up her wine, she looked to the waiter as he approached. His timing was spot on, setting the entrees before each guest. He topped off the wine glass for each. Picking up the empty plates, a hand to the cheese board, "Shall I box this for you?"

Gren gave Izira a worried look when she said she had done worse, then he snapped out of it when the waiter spoke. "Uh . . . Yes, please! Very tasty. Oooh." He looked at his chicken and it appeared, as well as smelled delicious. He had his fork and knife ready but he waited for Izira to start first.

The waiter took the board away with the plates, leaving them to enjoy their main course. Izira picked up her knife and fork, cutting a small piece from the pasta to try it. She nodded her approval, offering Gren a bite from her fork.

He reached forward and ate the tortellini from off of Izira's fork. His face brightened as he chewed. "Very good." He cut a piece of chicken off and nibbled on that next. "I can taste the Thyme, awesome." He washed it down with a little of the wine. Then he risked a look at Izira. "Uh . . . what was it that you had done that was worse?"

She ate a bit of her food, thinking. Truly Izira could not recall all the things she did in her altered state of mind when her gift had affected her. "I went to an inn once in nothing but a towel..."

Gren got a slightly paranoid look on his face, but that didn't sound horribly bad. "Well, you were still covered up . . . uh, why were you wearing nothing but a towel?"

"Come to think of it... I do not know. I suppose I must have gotten out of a shower when the need to explore hit me."

"Pommes Frites . . . . Wait, these are just french fries . . ." Momentarily distracted, he gulped, then ate another slice of the chicken. "Wouldn't the need to put clothes on be stronger than the need to explore an inn right after you got out of a shower?"

"Oh, I was exploring the city of Rhydin.... I happened to end up in an inn. Not the Red Dragon..." She pondered, "I do not recall what the place had been called." She took a sip of her wine, casual about her exploits from a prior time.

"Huh." A strange story indeed, but since there was no nudity involved, Gren decided to move on. "How does your cheek taste?" He was eyeballing that particular item of food on her plate.

"Quite good. Would you care for a bit?"

"Certainly. I've never ate a cheek before."

Taking a bit of the cheek, she paired it with the pasta for a full bite for him. "Trying new things, maybe later you will be wandering in a towel." teasing him playfully.

He leaned forward and scooped the cheek and pasta into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "I'm pleasantly surprised." Then he went back to eating his own meal. "Heh, I wonder what Haddon would say if he found out I ate cheek. As much as he likes to eat, he's probably never heard of that one before."

"Knowing him, I would wager he would take the opportunity to turn it into something colorful." Clearing her throat a bit at the suggestion, she smiled to him. The fork set down, she picked up her wine glass. "I believe a proper fancy dinner calls for a toast?"

He smiled, then raised his glass. "Far be it from me to be so ungallant as to refuse a toast."

She paused, waiting to see if he would begin one. Chuckling softly, "Uh... to our engagement, since that is why we are here. To past and future discoveries of one another."

"To me having the courage to ask, and you having the courage to say yes." He smiled. "And here's to the rest of our lives with each other."

Chinking her glass against his before taking a sip, she leaned around the table after to offer him a kiss.

Mimicking her actions, he took a mouthful of the wine, before returning her kiss. "This is a public place, remember." He gave her a mock wave of his finger, then laughed.

"Do not tempt me ranger." Sitting back with a smile, her foot brushing his leg under the table. She took another drink of wine, looking from him to their surroundings and back again.

He jumped a little at her foot running up his leg. "Hey! I hope cheek isn't like oysters or avocados or whatever other romantic foods there are . . . . Well, I at least hope its effects won't kick in until we're home again."

With a soft chuckle, she looked back into plants around them, "Or we find a quiet secluded glade?" Still, her foot moved to more innocently touch his ankle.

"We haven't even had our dessert yet. I was looking forward to the blueberry and pear cobbler." He popped the last of the pommes frites in his mouth, holding up the last one before he did so. "I still say these are french fries."

Izira had not cleaned her plate, long gone was the curious hunger that had taken her. Her smile turned appreciative for Gren, she spotted the waiter and lifted a delicate finger to gain his attention.

"Mademoiselle?"

As he stood there seeking her need, he topped off the wine in their glasses. "I believe we are ready for dessert. If you would box the remainder of this for me?"

"But of course, Mademoiselle. Would you like to see tonight's offerings?" Izira glanced to Gren.

Gren had the last bite of chicken in his mouth when Izira looked at him "Yufffa . . ." He swallowed and smiled sheepishly. "Yes I would. Pardon me." He lightly tapped his chest with his fist.

"I will have them sent your way." He bowed his head as he took Izira's plate, a moment's pause and the he took Gren's once sure he was done with it.

A moment later another waiter arrived with a small tray of expertly laid out desserts, each looking more tempting than the next: The blueberry and pear cobbler, a slice of layered chocolate cake, a thin decorative glass filled with swirls of decadent mousse, a small fruit tart topped with seasonal berries, a dark souffle topped with powdered sugar, and a ceramic dish of creme brulee. "Any questions?"

"What are those two?" She pointed between the souffle and the creme brulee.

"Chocolate Souffle with an Orange Sauce and a Caramelized Honey Creme Brulee."

"That one, please." Izira indicated the Souffle.

Gren eyed the desserts, which mostly looked too rich to him, so he settled on his first choice. "I'll have the Blueberry & Pear Cobbler, please." When his choice was placed before him, he took a scoop of it with his spoon. "Mmm, this is great. Especially with the vanilla ice cream."

The waiter bowed and left, leaving them to enjoy their desserts. Izira took a taste and made a soft, if somewhat guttural sound of enjoyment. "If nothing else, and your company aside, the dessert has made the meal entirely worth the venture. I would happily visit with Margaret for an afternoon to have this again."

He chuckled. "Be careful what you wish for. But I'm sure she and her husband would like to be invited to the wedding." His cobbler rapidly disappeared into his mouth. "Well I'd say this restaurant has been a more than pleasant experience. If I was a critic and could give them five stars, I would." He set his spoon down on his now empty dish.

"You could write to the post?" She offered once her own dessert was gone.

"Gren Blockman, restaurant connoisseur" He thought that one over. "Nah, I'm more of the blue plate special type." Just then the Maitre'D sidled up to the table, and set the bill down in one of those fancy plastic trays. Gren looked at Izira, smiling, and picked up the paper bill. Then his eyes got big as saucers, and he coughed into his hand. The Maitre'D looked down his nose and raised an eyebrow. "Eh, um, yes . . . just give me a minute." Gren frantically dug through the pockets of his suit, letting silver noble after silver noble drop into the plastic tray. "Twenty percent of that would be . . . " Gren muttered to himself, then after turning his pants pockets inside out, he held up a finger, then took off his left shoe, and deposited the silver noble he had in case of an emergency in with the rest. "Excellent meal, my compliments to the chef."

The Maitre'D had not dropped his eyebrow, but glanced down at the plastic tray, before gently lifting it in his left hand as if it would need to be hosed down afterwards. "Do come again . . . . saaaahhhhh . . . " His tone of voice made Gren doubt he meant that as he walked away with his nose still in the air.

Izira watched Gren's reaction to the bill with curiosity, wondering how prepared he was and if they'd end up doing dishes. At least it was a skill she had well underhand. She sipped her wine as he found the silvers to cover the meal. "Mm. I daresay next time you might be better prepared." There was amusement in her smile. "I hope that was not our wedding fund..."

"Let's just say I hope you don't want to stop for drinks on the way home. Unless it's from somebody's garden hose." He stood up from his chair, and offered her his hand. "Shall we?"

"Noted." She chuckled softly, taking his hand as she drained her wine glass. "Since there's no stopping on the way." She stood up with a little wink for Gren. "Thank you for the lovely dinner Gren." She kissed him there by the table, one chaste enough to not get him concerned.

A gentle kiss and a little squeeze was given to Izira, enough to be romantic without causing the Maitre'D to get his feathers ruffled any more than they already were. "It was my pleasure, Lady Izira." As she curled her arm around his, he walked her back towards the waiting room. The Maitre'D was there, still giving Gren an odd look, but Gren just nodded and smiled in return as they exited the Restaurant. "I think that went well for our first five star restaurant experience."

May 13, 2018




Noira's tired feet found their way to the Forgotten Layers, knowing better than her that she needed the rest and that this sanctuary was closer, and better, than any other. The familiar tree-line and the shadow of its roof beyond tipped her off, and she smiled at the sight and trudged down the track a little faster. She was armored but lightly, dressed in a hauberk, leggings and boots better suited to travel than a siege. Much of her once-grey cloak was several filthy shades of brown, much the same as her boots, and mud and ichor spattered her face and torso as well. Far noisier than the mail that shifted under a padded layer was her heavily laden backpack, filled with rations, cooking supplies, climbing gear, a torch and lantern, and numerous carefully wrapped ancient tablets, urns, and coffers. She tugged one of her filthy gauntlets free with her teeth (blech!) to push open the front door with the much cleaner hand underneath.

Even with the daylight shining in through the windows, the candles and fireplace of the inn were aglow. Their light offering more comfort than warmth. Given the summer season, the additional heat was not needed. Izira sat on the couch by the fire with a glass of Fae Wine. The liquid swirled in blues and silvers. A book of poetry, written by her father's people in their native tongue, sat in her lap. She read through the verses, occasionally looking toward Gren with a warm smile. Silas, curled up on the back of a large armchair, slept soundly. The sound of the door brought Izira's eyes to the entrance.

Gren read an Arachnid Man comic while sitting in an easy chair near Izira. Concentrating on the panels, he looked at Izira now and again as well. Trying to keep his own thoughts to himself as he read the comic, he didn't want to disturb Izira as she studied her poetry book. He looked up as the door came open, and smiled as he saw it was Noira. "Noira! It's been a long time! Come on in, it's good to see you!"

The past year had been kind enough to the elfess, with few new scars to show from her adventures since that unlucky night at Crosswych. Her left ear was still notched from the claws of a beast and a trio of lines curled out of her collar, but none of it was new, and the mud and ichor were familiar in their own way. "Hallo, Gren," she half-sang in his direction, and grunted as she slid the heavy pack off into one hand, keeping her filthy gauntlets pinned under one arm. "It is good to see you, and Izira as well," she added, seeing the woman rousing in her armchair. She made her way towards them. "It has been... ten months? Longer?"

"I'd say it's been more than a year. How've you been? It looks like you've been . . . busy." Gren eyed Noira up and down, seeing her dusty traveling gear.

Izira set her book and drink down, standing up as Noira approached. Izira wore a cozy white dress, her hair up. The heels were a soft gray. Moving to Noira and greeting her warmly with a delicate, mindful of the mud, hug and a soft kiss to the elfess' cheek. "Noira, it has been too long.... what can I get you? A meal? A drink? A hot bath?" The last bit offered in caring and not judgemental tone.

Noira suppressed a soft laugh at the daring gesture, however delicately she executed it. "All of them, all of them sound lovely," she replied, and set her bag down carefully to dig through it. She removed an old urn wrapped in oiled leather, and now that it was exposed to the light, it shone with the flecks of silver and gold that had been mixed into the dark clay many centuries ago, giving it the appearance of starlight. The rim was etched with phases of the moon, set with remarkably intact white stones, minus a few chips and cracks. "I think I was meant to come here, as usual," she said, holding the urn up by the base as she examined it, "and offer this for your mantel. Taken from a shrine to a three-winged wheel worshipped by ancient aasimar, and guarded by a rather nasty troll," she added with a wry smile.

Izira's smile warmed at Noira's response. Stepping back, she gave her room to remove the artifact. Amber-brown eyes admiring the craftsmanship of the piece. "He had his work cut out for him..." She looked to the mantle, "Would you do us the honor Noira?" A gesture of her hand offering Noria to place the artifact where she thought best.

"That looks awesome, Noira. Hope the troll didn't cause you too much trouble." Gren admired the craftsmanship of the old urn.

"Clove the nose right off my helmet when he tried to bite me," she murmured, this for both Gren and Izira, "but I do not think he was prepared for a diet of distilled starfire..." She placed the urn carefully, adjusting it so that the full moon was about center, and let her feet fall flat again as she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

"It looks lovely." Izira admired the urn now upon the mantle. "I think you are right, it was meant for this place." She glanced to the cat, finding he had vanished during the greetings.

The elfess turned her head, her ears twitching at the tips as she looked at the back of the armchair, now empty.

Izira got right down to business. "I think... a bath would be in order, first. You can have a glass of wine or a cup of tea, coffee, to enjoy as you freshen up" She moved from the fireplace toward the box with keys behind the bar. "Gren and I will fix you something to eat."

"Yeah, take your time and relax. Is there anything special you'd like to eat or drink?" Gren asked.

"Something that is not dried, salted meat or stale bread would be perfect," Noira smiled at Gren. "I think wine to accompany my meal, and tea and brandy for my bath, if that can be done." Her gaze turned distant, borderline misty-eyed, as she stared off. "Six weeks since my last warm bath... I have almost forgotten the feeling..." She sighed wistfully and overdramatically, managing to follow Izira to the bar as she rambled.

"Tea and Brandy it is." Izira first went to set the kettle on, then she took out a small tin, setting it before Noira to pick which she wanted. She then moved on the get the brandy.

Gren chuckled at Noira. "I'll go in the kitchen and start cooking. Enjoy your bath." He pushed through the door, letting Izira finish mix the drink.

Noira let the bag dangle ponderously from one arm as she bent to inspect the tea, too distracted by luxuries and the promise of them to respond to Gren. She sniffed carefully, then selected one that reminded her of honey and ginger with its aroma. "Is there a room open that looks out on the gardens?" she asked, looking up from her selection at Izira as she placed it beside the tin.

"That was just the room I was intending to give you." Izira grinned, taking the tea and the tin. She set the tea to seep. Moving back to the box and the key, her fingers pausing in the air as she found it missing.

"A room with a view." Jeremiah's voice came from the top of the stairs, holding the key up that Izira had been reaching for. The redwood of a man seemed to fill the stairway. Brown hair flecked with copper was cut close to his head, but not enough to hide the would-be curls that fluffed up his beard. Bright green eyes sparkled in a merry, if weathered, face. He wore a long cream tunic over tan slacks. Tan sandals adorned his feet as he moved down the stairs. "I took the liberty of starting up a hot bath. Even set the oils out."

Noira's freckled cheeks turned pink as Jeremiah spoke and descended the stairs. She gave him a warm enough smile, though it flickered uncertainly as if nervous, and dipped her head to him and to Izira in turn. "Thank you," she said to the innkeeper, and turned back to the rather woodsy man at the base of the stairs, managing to meet his gaze as she held out a dusty, scraped hand for the key, palm-up (and quietly cursing her filthy, road-weary state).

Izira looked curiously at Jeremiah before moving to finish fixing the tea and brandy. "Noira... this is Jeremiah... he is a..."

"Very dear friend." Jeremiah dipped his head, moving to take the hand that awaited the key into both of his. "Well met." He drew his hands away, leaving Noira with the key. "It is my personal opinion that the corner suite has the best view of the garden. You can even see the pond. There's baby ducks now." He grinned, apparently not put off by the road-weary state of Noira.

Izira came up from the bar, carrying a mug for Noira. "Shall I show you up?"

Gren curiously peered out the kitchen door at the 'Very dear friend' comment, then shrugged and popped back inside.

Noira's smile stretched a little wider at his grin, and she held his gaze for a beat before Izira's question seemed to startle her out of her... state of mind. "Yes!" she replied to Izira and flashed a somewhat tamer smile to Jeremiah as a farewell. She then fell in behind Izira, ducking her head to conceal the deeper shade of red now burning her cheeks.

Leading the way up the stairs, Izira went down the hall to the last door on the left. As Noira had the key, Izira would leave her to explore the interior. The suite was open and the windows extended around two walls of the room, offering a view of the garden and the pond Jeremiah had mentioned. The first room is a small sitting area that also contained a desk, chair, and chest. Through a door, a medium sized bed could be found, curtained to keep light away if needed. The bath sat just off of the bedroom, a large clawed foot tub that could comfortably hold two Jeremiahs... if that was a thing someone wanted to do. A silver tray had been placed by the bath with a selection of oils. Steam rose from the water. Izira followed Noira in only so far as the main room, setting the mug down on the desk for her friend and guest.

"Thank you," Noira said to Izira as soon as she had stepped inside, dropping her bag in the sitting area. She wasted little time in unpinning her cloak and unbuckling her boots, but looked up from her work to smile at the innkeeper again. "I am lucky to have found this place... today, and before."

"We are happy to have you return." Warmth showed in Izira's smile to match the words, "I will leave you to it." She gave a tip of her head to the bath. "See you downstairs, Noira."

Meanwhile, Jeremiah had moved to the bar, taking a seat.

Gren peeked back through the door, seeing Jeremiah sitting there. "Joining us for dinner . . . 'Dear friend'?"

"I think I will." Jeremiah beamed. He tilted his head, looking to the kitchen, "Need a hand 'Chef Blockman'?"

"For once, I think I can manage it. I've got this great recipe for Crusty Dinner Rolls I wanted to try. Let me see if all my training is paying off." Gren smiled, then went back inside the kitchen, kneading dough for his recipe.

Noira took her time with her bath, though not so much to be unmindful of her company. It was less than an hour before she descended the stairs, her hair twisted into a much neater bun, and dressed in a soft white tunic with pretty red, black and gold trim, and soft grey leggings. The mud and ichor was gone, which was a definite plus. She hadn't taken anything with her downstairs except for a small wooden pipe, stained a deep, handsome red, and a black leather pouch of pipe-weed tucked into the thin black belt that cinched her tunic.

Gren was casually chatting with Jeremiah when he saw Noira appear. His face brightened as he saw her cleaned up and looking refreshed. He quickly moved back into the kitchen to get her meal. Not long after the door opened again, and Gren had two plates, one for her and Jeremiah. "Here you are! A seared porterhouse steak, a baked potato with sour cream, and fresh steamed broccoli. You need your green veggies!" Gren wagged a finger at Noira like a parent teaching a child. He also had brought out a basket with his Crusty Dinner Rolls, and a glass of wine. "Red Merlot. I hope you enjoy the rolls, I baked them with my own special recipe." Gren smiled, then suddenly looked nervous as if he had said too much, and sidled back into the kitchen.

"If I do not mind my greens, I may never reach my seventh century," Noira replied to the wisdom Gren offered, and couldn't help a grin and a quiet chuckle at his nervous look and the way he backed off. "Thank you, Gren! I am sure it will all be lovely." She set her pipe and tobacco aside, a dessert of sorts to go with her second glass of wine, and settled in for her meal. When she brought the wine to her lips for her first sip, she shut her eyes and savored it for a long moment, as if committing every note, every aspect of it to memory.

Jeremiah nodded his approval at the plate. He watched with silent amusement, as he enjoyed his large tankard of ale, Gren's interaction with Noira. Those bright green eyes taking in Noira enjoying her wine. "Izira does have the selection."

Noira's eyes slitted open to look aside at the large man. Sometimes there could be a dangerous sort of cleverness about her gaze, and this was one of those times. "Jeremiah, yes?"

"Yes, Noira."

"I know how I feel about this wine, but I fear the words elude me." Noira frowned delicately, swirling the wine in the glass as she clutched it in her slender fingers, and turned her head to look at him a little better. "Tell me... what do you like about it?" She set her wine down, neatly cut a piece of steak, and bit down while she listened to him.

"It has an alluring spirit to it. Somewhat subtle, but still bold." There was a sparkle to Jeremiah's look that suggested he maybe spoke of things beyond the wine. He picked up his silverware and started to cut into the steak before him. "But I'm a simple man of simple tastes." He pointed to his tankard with his knife.

Noira chuckled warmly and enjoyed another sip of her wine to accompany the flavor of her steak. Their initial interactions had thrown her off balance, but the elfess had gained confidence over the course of her years in RhyDin. "Cheers," she murmured, and settled contentedly into the rest of her meal. A smile was never far from her lips.

"Cheers." He agreed easily, lifting the tankard and taking a drink.

Izira looked up at Gren as he returned to the kitchen, she had taken over doing dishes since he had done the cooking.

Gren walked over to Izira at the sink, and after a look towards the door, he kind of waved his finger in that direction and asked her, "What's all that going on out there?"

Izira shrugged, looking upwards. "I have long since given up trying to guess at Jeremiah's actions. Are we... staying in here?" Izira dried the last of the kitchenware, putting it away and looking to Gren curiously.

"Well . . . I . . . "He rolled it around in his mind. "Maybe we should check on them. I want to know if they tried my rolls yet." Gren tiptoed over to the door, opened it just a smidge and peeked out.

Jeremiah had not touched the rolls yet. He was enjoying the steak and the ale and the company.

Gren shook one fist downward in frustration, then looked back at Izira. "He's too busy flirting!" He whispered at her.

"Flirting?" Izira's tone asked if Gren was sure that was what was happening in the other room.

When someone decided to poke their head back out, Noira seemed to be in the middle of discussing the proper way to enjoy the aroma with Jeremiah, and had her fingers against his on the base of the glass, moving it in a slow circle as he took a whiff. She had, however, eaten one of the rolls.

"He's giving her the moon eyes and drinking alcohol", Gren looked back out and noticed Noira fingering her wine glass. "Crap. I should have given her Cherry Kool-Aid instead."

"They are adults, Gren." Though the idea of Jeremiah.... it... well it was a new occurrence in her long time there. Izira heard Jeremiah chuckle from the area of the bar, "They might need... something?"

Noira appeared to be whispering something to Jeremiah, and when she did, her lips curled.
"I think they are spying on us."

"I agree." The large man taking in the planes of her face.

"Something. Oh, alright." Gren stopped spying and walked through the door, plastering on a smile. "So . . . are you all enjoying your dinner? Can I get you anything else?"

Izira followed Gren out from the kitchen, moving back to the fireplace to fetch her wine.

Jeremiah winked to Noira as he leaned back and smiled at Gren. "You've outdone yourself, Chef."

"This was wonderful," Noira said to Gren, smiling up at him from her empty plate. "I seem to have developed quite an appetite."

"Uh huh." A few quick glances between Noira and Jeremiah. "Well, thank you for the compliments. There's seconds if you'd like to have more."

"Wouldn't want to ruin my figure." Patting his solid stomach, Jeremiah reached for a roll, now that everything else was gone.

Izira returned with her wine, taking a spot on the patron side of the bar beside Noira.

"Could I have seconds of wine, please?" Noira asked Gren with a small smile as she started carefully packing her pipe.

Gren's eyes went from Jeremiah, to the roll, back at Jeremiah, then Noira's empty wine glass. With a perturbed look, he took a bottle of the Merlot from under the counter and poured some into the glass. But not too much.

Setting her own glass down, Izira cleared the plates. Standing again, she eyed the amount of wine that Gren poured and lifted a brow at him.

Noira thanked him with a smile as she bent a few fingers over her pipe -- not a matter of rote, but of evoking a feeling, one that produced a spark and lit the pipe-weed with a soft glow of embers.

Gren looked back at Izira as if he was going to put a stop to this. Right at that moment, however, the door of the Inn burst open. Crawford, Gren's fellow Ranger, was standing there. The young man's eyes swept over those assembled and landed on Gren. "Gren, we need you back at Headquarters right away. It's . . . It's Perrigan. He was ambushed at the meeting with Brallin." Crawford again looked at the others as if wondering if he should say more.

Noira doused the embers with her thumb, seemingly unharmed, as she abruptly stood to stare between Gren and his fellow Ranger, alert and attentive.

Izira had made it to the kitchen doorway and now stood frozen, looking from Crawford to Gren with increasing concern.

Jeremiah, ever the watcher, watched. Though, his brow creased and he regarded Gren with a level of concern all his own.

Gren's face flashed also with concern, then determination. "I've got to go everyone." Coming out from behind the bar, he went over to the pegs at the doorway and began to hurriedly pull on his cloak. "If you want to come, we'd better go now."

"I need three minutes for my armor," Noira said, already moving to the stairs as any previous expression she had held was replaced by the cold, grim determination of a soldier. "Less," she added with a glance at Izira, "if I have help."

Izira set the plates down at the end of the bar, looking to Jeremiah. He nodded, waving her on.

Quickly she moved to follow Noira and help her get her armor on. Jeremiah in turn looked to Gren and Crawford.

Gren nodded at them both, then looked at Jeremiah. "We're just going to the Headquarters. I'll bring Izira back as soon as I can." His grey cloak on now, Crawford went out to secure the mounts. Crawford had his own horse, and he had brought Alfred for Gren.

Noira was good to her word, well-trained in the fine art of rolling out of bed at some ungodly hour, scrambling into her gear and getting right down to marching or killing. In less than three minutes she was hurrying back down the stairs, tightening a belt across her hauberk, taking with her a smaller pack of her gear and a long, jagged knife at her hip.

"I trust that you will." Jeremiah had stood, taking up the plates. He now stood in the kitchen door, "Safe travels, Noira." He simply nodded to Gren and Izira.

Izira moved, getting her own light cloak from the hook beside where Gren's had been.

Noira's gaze lingered on Jeremiah for a fraction of a second, allowing herself a quiet, wistful sigh at an evening that could have been. "Thank you," she said with a flicker of a smile; her cloak flared out as she fastened it quickly, stalking over to the door to join Izira and the Rangers.

"Noira, you can ride with Crawford, Izira and I will take Alfred." Walking out the door with the other two, Crawford was waiting there with the two mounts. Gren helped lift Izira onto Alfred's back, before climbing on himself.

Alfred grunted. "Have you put on a few pounds there, Gren?"

"Not now, Alfred." Gren hissed.

Crawford was already on his horse and offered Noira a hand up.

Without hesitation or ceremony, Noira took Crawford's hand and climbed onto the horse behind him, settling in like a capable rider.

"Tell me where you need me, and I will follow your lead," Noira said to her companions, simply, as they headed out.

They followed the main road until they crossed a wooden bridge, then turned abruptly east, following the river towards the border of the ranger's territory.

Crawford, meanwhile, went up to the Houses of Healing and entered. He handed Izira the hastily written note. It said, "Izira, Westerguard has sent me to deliver a message to Outpost Blue. I have taken Noira with me. We will be back soon. Love, Gren."

Reading the note, Izira squeeze Perrigan's hand gently. She offered a soft thank you to Crawford.

Noira urged her horse on along with Gren's, riding low in her saddle. She squinted hard through the trees ahead of them, searching for any sign of trouble, ambush, anything at all out of the ordinary.

Most of the land they passed was grassy along the riverside. As the miles went by, the countryside turned more hilly and forested. Slowly the track pulled away from the riverbank and headed up a high ridge. There at the top was a structure that looked like the Ranger's Headquarters in miniature. It had the same log wall and gate, but much fewer buildings. There were a few grey cloaked forms patrolling the walls. Pulling to a halt at the gate, Gren called out to the gatekeeper. "It's Captain Blockman, here on orders from General Westerguard."

The gate swung open, allowing the two entrance to Outpost Blue. "Captain Rodan is over on the far wall."

Riding through the small collection of buildings, Gren dismounted at the stairs leading up the wall. He hurried up and noticed a man with long black hair, staring out over the forest towards the east. He had studded leather armor under his grey cloak. Gren waved to him and approached. "Captain Rodan, it is good to see you."

Rodan smiled "Captain Blockman, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Perrigan was ambushed at the meeting, I have orders here from Westerguard." Gren pulled the papers out from his cloak and handed them to the Captain.

Rodan read over them and turned pale. "How am I supposed to hold this outpost? I have barely ten Rangers here. We cannot fight an army of undead. Gren, we must withdraw. I have heard all afternoon strange sounds coming from these woods."

"What sounds?" Noira asked. She hadn't dismounted yet, and wasn't going to until she had to. "Friend of Gren and Izira's, adventurer, battlemage, at your service," she quickly added, in anticipation of a question.

Rodan looked at Gren and pointed at Noira. Gren said sheepishly, "Sorry, her name is Noira. She's with me."

Rodan shrugged. "Low moans and a few shrieks. Crashing of trees. Considering what I've just read in this letter, I think it's obvious what's going on out there now."

"How many Rangers did Perrigan have with him when he met Brallin?" Noira asked, frowning at their surroundings from her relatively high position atop her horse.

"Uhh . . . . I think he said 10 . . . “Gren gulped and looked back out at the forest.”This doesn't look good. Maybe you should evacuate now, while you've got the chance."

Rodan frowned and rubbed his chin. "Well, I don't know . . . ."

Suddenly, far to the north, they heard an explosion, and a ball of fire and plume of smoke rose into the air. Rodan turned paler than he had before. "That . . . that's where Outpost Green is! Holy . . . . GET THE HORSES READY!" Rodan called over his shoulder.

Noira cried out something in Elvish as she steadied her horse, spooked by the explosion, and urged it on towards the north wall of the compound. She jerked her head to find Gren in the confusion in the camp, then called out to those few manning the walls: "Sentries! What do you see?!" She was a stranger among them, so she might be ignored, but her voice carried the practiced authority of an officer.

The horses were already being pulled out of their stables when someone called down to Noira. ". . . . Jesus . . . . There's skeletons! Skeletons pouring out of the forest! North, East, and South!"

"We need to go!" Gren urged Rodan, while running back to his mount.

Rodan didn't look like he needed any encouragement and followed Gren down from the walls. "EVERYONE EVACUATE! GET TO YOUR HORSE NOW!"

Noira snapped her reins in response to the sentry, and seemed to be one of the first out of their small fort, galloping her horse through the gate to the west, ready to race back to the compound -- but as soon as she was through, she wheeled around to the north, angling herself towards the northeast and the hissing, clacking shapes clambering through the treeline. Her head bowed and her eyes flared an eerie, unearthly black lit by countless stars, one hand clenched around the reins while the other circled through the air and pushed straight out. What looked like swift, angry heat waves rippled through the air, landing among a cluster of the nearest undead shapes with a low hum and a concussive blast, scattering searing dust in the vicinity. The plants caught within withered instead of burning. "Captain Blockman!" That was how she thought she had heard him addressed, earlier. "I'll join the rearguard!" she shouted over her shoulder. Hopefully she would be heard.

Gren had leapt upon his horse, and turned his head, hearing the blast from Noira's spell. "Alright, Noira, be careful! Back to Headquarters, everyone!" Rodan was not far behind him, and the other Rangers began spurring their horses out of the main gate, following Gren and Rodan back home. Gren looked into the treeline and saw the vague shapes of the undead creatures as they shambled towards the abandoned Outpost. Here and there, he thought he saw a black robed figure who must have been the sorcerers who were leading them. They look familiar, he thought.

Noira's face twisted into a scowl as she dug deeper into the passion, the energy that connected her to the magical power of the stars, forming cold fury into a blast of void-like energy that whipped into an advancing skeleton and exploded its ribcage. Immediately over its collapsing form was a similar flare, a blast of necrotic power that disintegrated tree branches and cracked through a trunk as Noira ducked low in her saddle. Somewhere behind the advancing minions, one of those sorcerers was giving her a malicious grin. She snapped her reins, dug her heels in, and joined the last of the Rangers in their desperate retreat, galloping away from the fallen Outpost. It was her and two other Rangers bringing up the rear, one to either side, racing to break line of sight with the sorcerers mixed in among the undead. She looked behind her as much as she dared as her mount plunged ahead, waiting for a surge, a flicker, any sign at all... There. A flash of angry red in the distance, and she threw her hand out behind her and cried out in Elvish, and the sorcerer's nascent spell fizzled out.

Their fast mounts soon carried them out of range of the undead horde, and they sped through the hilly region into the grassland surrounding the river. In the distance, Gren could see farmers and workers fleeing west from the advancing horrors. After they had gone a mile, they heard a similar explosion to the one that claimed Outpost Green, and looked back to see a pillar of smoke where Outpost Blue had been. They reached the river bridge, and found it guarded by a handful of Rangers. "Get back to Headquarters as soon as you can, you won't be able to hold here!" Gren told them. "Yes, sir!” they replied, and began to pack their things as the group from Outpost Blue rode on to the gate. There was a flurry of activity at the gate now, as scared refugees began seeking the safety of the Ranger's walls.

The strange light had faded from Noira's eyes by the time she reached the gate with the last of the Rangers. Her gaze danced over the stream of refugees, frowning at this troubling new factor. She had usually been on the other side of sieges. "Someone should task the able-bodied to man buckets -- and find every healer among them!" She turned her horse about, anxious to get inside, but there was a whole mass of people ahead of her.

"Clear the road!" Rodan bellowed, and some of the Rangers at the gate began pushing the crowd back, giving them room to maneuver their horses into the gate.

Westerguard was still inside, barking out orders at his available soldiers. More and more Rangers began to appear on the walls as they ushered in the refugees. Westerguard's eyes landed on Gren and Rodan. "What the hell happened?"

Rodan approached Westerguard and saluted. "Sir, Gren and his friend arrived just in time. We saw Outpost Green explode, and the trees became filled with skeletons. There was no hope of a proper defense, we evacuated immediately."

"Damn, I was wondering why I hadn't heard from Green. Alright, Rodan, get your men to the main gate, you'll be in charge there."

"Yes, sir", Rodan replied, and wheeled his horse, waving his Rangers to follow him. "General, Noira said we could get the refugees to help, man buckets & help with the healing."

"I won't argue with that. If she's got any more advice, now would be the time."

Noira finally made her way into the fort, catching the end of that conversation as she handed off her reins to a younger Ranger who seemed to be handling the stables. "Any task that is not fighting, find someone else to do it -- three farm hands to keep control of the horses in the stable, keep them from bolting. Set up bucket lines in," she looked briefly around the compound, "three places, and name a foreman to each. Any timbers that can be spared should be brought to the gate, and a few bodies strong enough to brace with them. Take legs from tables, anything big and flat, and put someone in charge of using them to brace gaps -- these are wooden walls, they will make gaps. And everyone who is not helping should be under cover. Now where do you want me?" she added, looking to Westerguard. She did not salute or call him 'sir,' she was not in his army, but he was still the man in charge.

Westerguard looked at Noira for a long moment, then looked at Gren.

Gren smiled sheepishly. "She is my friend." He seemed to be repeating that line often, as if that explained everything.

"Well, since these are your bright ideas, why don't you organize the refugees?" Westerguard replied.

"Give me a Ranger. That one," Noira nodded, pointing out a girl who looked more squire than full Ranger, currently making a valiant (but inefficient) attempt to distribute arrows, while most ignored her.

Westerguard looked over at the girl Noira had pointed to. "Miella, get over here!" The young woman fumbled with the arrows she was holding, then ran up to Westerguard saluting. "Miella, do whatever she tells you." Westerguard finished, pointing his finger at Noira for emphasis.

"Um, yes sir", Miella agreed.

"Miella, I am Lieutenant Sibreth, and I am here helping Captain Blockman," she said as she strode away quickly, forcing Miella to catch up. "When I ask you to do something, I need you to say 'yes, lieutenant.' Your job is to see that every task I assign is getting done, and tell me anything I need to know. Is that clear?" Noira paused for only half a step, looking sharply at Miella, before she heard a stammered, "Yes, lieutenant." Good enough. Using the added authority of having someone in uniform next to her, she made her way down the list of tasks, in order of the time they'd take: moving people inside, moving timbers and breaking down furniture, bucket lines, healers, and stable hands, with Miella keeping an eye out and pulling aside those best suited to the tasks. It meant splitting up families, more often than not, and it darkened and strained Noira's expression, but she kept herself pushing forward as fast as she could. There was no time for anything else.

"For a minute there I thought she was going to ask me to relinquish my command", Westerguard said to Gren with a pointed look.

Gren rubbed the back of his head. "She has been a help, General."

"As much of a help as one bossy battlemage is, an even bigger help are the sorcerer's guilds I have converging here. Those pansies owe us and now its time they make themselves useful. The Order of the Flaming Crow", Westerguard stopped reading and rolled his eyes, "are coming from the north. The cadets from White Cedar Academy will come up from the south."

"But sir, they're mostly younger children", Gren protested.

Westerguard continued, "They have enough older pupils to get this job done. Our job is to hold these walls long enough for them to get here, then their magic will do the rest. Let's just hope we can hold out long enough. Good job bringing Rodan and his boys back."

"Sir, can I go to the House of Healing before you assign me any more duties?"

"Fine. Your troop are mostly here anyway. Just be sure you report to your section of the wall as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir!" Gren saluted, then hurried up the road to the House of Healing. He pushed through the door and looked around to see if Izira was still there.

The panic of the situation had quickly moved throughout the compound. Haddon and Moriana had left with the other rangers as well as Yolene to help tend to those that needed it. Izira has promised to all that she would stay with Perrigan and watch over him. The sleeping man's hand was still held in her own. When the door opened, Izira eyes burned with ready fire but relaxed the moment she saw it was Gren. "Noira?"

Gren blew out a breath and moved over to Perrigan's bedside with Izira. "She's out there taking charge of the refugees. She seems like she was born for this type of thing." He managed a nervous chuckle. "How's the Headmaster doing?"

"By the bones of the elders, if you put that hand on me one more time, I am keeping it!" the elf's raised voice could be heard through the windows of the Healing House as she strode past, followed by poor Miella and a couple of burly lumberjacks she seemed to have recruited for one task or another.

Looking up, Izira was momentarily distracted by the call that was obviously Noira. A light smile of appreciation touched Izira's lips. Her eyes lowered down to Perrigan, "He rests, that is good. How are things out there?" She looked in the direction of Noira's voice.

Gren opened his mouth and pointed his thumb at the window at the sound of Noira's voice, but then he sighed and shrugged. "Things are getting taken care of, by the sound of it. With an army of undead this size, Westerguard has called in the local mage guilds to help out. The Order of the Flaming Crow, and White Cedar Academy. You remember Arillon and Shann, right?"

She nodded, her hand reflexively squeezing Perrigan's gently. "Yes." Looking over Gren's features, she continued. "I will stay here and keep Perrigan safe."

"Magic students?!" "Yes, lieutenant!" "Will they be arriving before or after we are set upon by an undead horde?!" "I, um, I don't know, lieutenant!" "Then find out." Noira was rather small, but she was also rather loud, and more so in the event of a battle.

"That's good. I'm sorry about this." Gren knelt down next to Izira and kissed her on the lips. "I better go, they need my help. Stay alert and be safe."

A brief touch of passion was offered in her kiss back. "Be safe my ranger, and return to me."

Gren nodded and smiled, before moving back out of the House of Healing. Dodging the rush of people, he moved over to his section of the log wall, just to the left of the main gate which faced south. He patted the members of his troop on the shoulder or back as he moved to his place in the line. "Keep a sharp lookout, call out those skeletons when you see them. Everyone have their bows ready? I don't know how much good the arrows will do on skeletons, but there are robed sorcerers out there that you should aim at first." Gren watched the road leading up to the gate, as well as looked out over the fields to the east.

Miella scurried off to see to the distribution of what maces, clubs, and other cudgels could be spared, and as she did, Noira turned to Gren. "Izira?"

"She's alright, she's watching over Perrigan. That's as safe a place as any for now. How are you doing with the refugees?"

"They have found cover, except for the people we'll need. And so far they seem to be attending to their tasks," Noira said while looking over her shoulder at the two burly men from earlier, who were currently in the process of moving broken tables and crates where they could be easily reached to reinforce breaks. "Miella tells me we're getting reinforcements. Mages?"

"Yeah. The Order of the Flaming Crow. They're about as colorful as they sound, but they know enough Black Magic to be of use. White Cedar Academy, mostly neophytes, but Masters Arillon and Shann will be of great help. The former is coming from the north, the latter from the south. Westerguard said the plan was to hold out until they get here, and hopefully their magic will tip the scales in our favor."

Noira nodded, turning her gaze in either direction as her lips thinned. "The trick will be holding our attackers at enough of a distance to benefit our reinforcements. Combat magic is less effective when you have walls, buildings, and people you'd rather not set on fire within a hairsbreadth of your enemies. What can you tell me about the lay of the land? Any choke points?"

Gren swept his gaze from north to south, getting a thoughtful look on his face. "The only one I know of is the bridge to the south, but that won't help us much if the attack is from the east. If you notice, though, the eastern side is not forested, and slopes low and away from the wall. We should have an unobstructed field of fire. Plus, Westerguard supposedly has built some kind of traps out there for defense."

She nodded, and breathed a slow sigh. "Then we shall hope they attack from the east." She was not sure how long they had until the attack came, but from the sound of things, most of the tasks had already been attended to. Additional weapons and ammunition had been placed at strategic locations. The bucket lines were ready to put out fires. There was a low murmur of conversation in the air, though far more from the refugees than the Rangers. The calm before the storm.