Flakes of snow fall from heaven to the world below like glinting flecks of starlight in the afternoon light. They dance in the air, flitting back and forth in the gentle sway of the wind until they are caught and cradled by the land. Like ash they fell and painted the world around them, but instead of shades of grey and black, all the world became glittering light under their gentle touch.

Iryla had felt breathless since she landed in Frost Gale with Cirice by her side. It was like she had set foot onto another plane here, she could hardly imagine that a place like this was really connected to the dim lands of Ash she hailed from. So this was snow…?

She had heard that snow was cold and brutal. That the Frost Gale was not a place for those of weaker hearts. But Iryla hardly felt the cold she had been warned about and warned again. Perhaps it was the thick scarf and cloak wrapped around her, or maybe it was something else entirely. She wasn’t sure.

All she knew was that this place was beautiful. Indescribably so.

At least that was how it felt to her. Maybe it was only so beautiful because she wasn’t yet used to the look of frost. Maybe it only felt indescribable because of her admittedly limited vocabulary. Maybe after a day in this place she’d grow to hate the wind and the cold and the snow and think it bland and irritating.

But that was a question for later. In this moment, there is nothing on Iryla’s face but a look of childish awe as she holds her hands out in front of her to catch snowflakes and watch them melt while she walks with Cirice.

The half-elf girl hadn’t exactly known what to expect when given another mission from one of Zarius’ many contacts to be done with Cirice’s aid. Not that she was complaining about the other girl’s presence. She simply wasn’t sure what to expect. But she never really was sure of what to expect at all these days. Life has had a way of getting away from her it seemed. Thwarting her expectations at every corner. Leaving her floundering to try and grow to fill in the gaps.

Maybe that was just growing up.

Her life was changing, she was changing. It felt like the world itself was shifting under her feet. Though logically she knew that the world, more likely than not, was simply carrying on as it always had and always would. That knowledge didn’t stop things from feeling so different to her, though. That was the problem with being young and small. Maybe her view of the world had simply been too narrow, instead of everything changing, now she was simply seeing through a larger lens.

“Have you ever seen snow before, Cirice?” Iryla looks to the other girl and asks out of genuine curiosity. Iryla wasn’t entire sure of Cirice’s life before they met, despite her ability to talk a mile a minute. The elven girl said surprisingly little about her life. It was a habit Iryla had noticed, and yet would never press.

She was the same way after all.

“It’s so… Small. Every piece of it is so tiny, and yet there’s so much of it everywhere. For some reason, I thought snowflakes would be bigger.”

Iryla blinks her eyes quickly to clear some of the tiny flakes clinging to her lashes and laughs a bit at herself. “I don’t know why I thought that, I guess it wouldn’t make sense for snowflakes to be much larger, would it? They’re not all that different in size from rain, and I’ve at least seen that before.”

The Ice Fields were quiet outside of the soft sounds of their voices and footsteps breaking through the top layers of snow. There were few trees stubbornly clinging to life in this desolate place, and even fewer animals to come across. This didn’t seem like the kind of place that would be easy for a caravan of supplies to traverse.

It really was a shame that Iryla and Cirice were here to no doubt make the lives of whoever was manning the caravan a little more difficult.

Whoever they were, it benefited Zarius to make sure their business here could not be completed. And it benefitted Iryla to make herself useful. With Cirice, after all they had been through before, they could handle this, that much Iryla was sure of. All they had to do was keep following these tracks through the snow, and make themselves a problem when they finally caught up to their target. Being a problem was something Iryla thought herself quite good at.

"It probably won't be long until we catch up with the caravan. Are you ready for this?"

“I have. This will be my second time in Frost Gale actually. The first time I helped a caravan. With…” Cirice trails off without finishing as she looks over at Iryla. The wonder in her eyes as she catches the snowflakes on her palms and just watches the tiny crystalline structures break down slowly into little puddles on her palm. Its the first time in the months Cirice has known Iryla that the younger girl looked… young. Childlike. In their travels together Iryla has always been so cool and confident, taking charge of the situation and handling it with the confidence and knowledge of someone much older and hardened by years of harsh life. But here in this moment, surrounded by the strange and beautiful scene of the snow, Iryla had a true child-like wonder.

The snow blanketed everything in a soft white sheet, rounding harsh corners and making the world look pure and untarnished, and so too did it remove some of the shadows from Iryla’s face. Cirice can’t help but smile warmly at her friend. This was a side of Iryla she’d never seen, curious and genuine. Her white hair and pale skin making her look almost as if she belonged here, fresh and unburdened, like one of the snowlings she carried around with her always. Delicate and beautiful Iryla looked in the snow.

“It is small. Small and soft. Wait until you see a blizzard. Snow falling so heavily, wind howling, and you feel lost in the great expanse of white. It's terrifying and beautiful. Just like you.” She’s not sure why she said that part aloud. She knew how Iryla took compliments, dismissing them uncomfortably like they’re pests. Cirice couldn’t help it though, she adored Iryla and she had a hard time not expressing it.

“Right, yeah. I’m ready. We just need to stop them from going this way and scare them off. This will save the most lives in the long run.” Cirice nods her head, justifying their actions to herself more than talking it over with Iryla. Sometimes bad things had to be done to help people, she’d spent a lot of time getting used to that idea but it still bothered her at times. But it was good to prune the wilted parts than the whole plant suffer. She takes out her tiny, comical hammer, ready to fight. "If anything really bad happens hide behind me and I'll make us an escape route. I've gotten much better at magic now, we've got this!" 

“With…?” Iryla prompts, her eyes turning from the world of glass around her back to Cirice. It wasn’t like the other girl to leave any thought unfinished. No, there were times when Iryla suspected that leaving thoughts unvoiced simply was against Cirice’s nature.

But when Iryla turns to look at her, there is an expression on Cirice’s face that gives her pause as well. It’s something softer than Iryla knows how to give name to, like a snowflake, melting on the tips of her fingers. And Iryla… Iryla cannot help but smile in return, a soft and fragile thing that takes to her lips unbidden but not unwelcome.

Cirice was still so strange to Iryla. So, so strange. She had never met someone so full of genuine… light. So full of that radiating happiness. It was as if all the world was awash with softer colors in Cirice’s eyes, and at first, Iryla could hardly believe that it was real. Surely, Cirice was lying on some level. Surely no one could see the horrors of this planet and still remain so alight with happiness through it all. But Cirice was-- she just was. In all of their travels together, though sometimes Cirice seemed to be seized by her own lack of confidence in her abilities, never once did her faith in the world come crashing down with it. There was a kindness alive in Cirice that Iryla could hardly comprehend, and yet, having stood so close to her warmth over their travels together… Iryla could not help but… But…

“T-Terrifying and- What? Beautiful?” There is a squeaking edge of surprise in Iryla’s voice, the same edge that comes out when she is most caught off guard by Cirice’s compliments. Really, Cirice complimented her more than even Cyran did, and that was saying something. Just as predicted, a flush overtakes Iryla’s face as she attempts to dismiss the compliment with a small scoff. “I- Hardly. I’m a teenager with a knife, Cirice. I think I’m a bit more… More… I don’t know the words for it. I’m probably too scrawny to be compared to something like a blizzard.” She was just some kid, after all. Just another orphan from those ashen streets who happened to get lucky. To this day she wasn’t sure why exactly Cyran and Zarius took note of her the way that they did, even if she was still grateful for it. But she was certainly not so impressive as Cirice seemed to believe…

“Really, I… I’m just good at stealing things, at sneaking around, Cirice.” Liquid drips down the side of Iryla’s palm from a vanishing snowflake and the young elven girl draws her hands away from the sky, tucking them underneath her armpit for warmth. “It’s not that impressive, anyone can do what I do if you have enough… Experience.” Iryla just happened to have a lifetime of hiding and thieving and surviving under her belt, even at her tender age.

It was something she had a hard time taking pride in. Something she could not bring herself to feel grateful for.

“You’re probably going to be much more useful. Your magic is… Incredible, really. Being able to do the things that you’re able to with magic is pretty unheard of where I come from. Much more impressive than my ability to nick someone’s wallet.” She looked to Cirice with a serious expression. She always looked so serious. So dour and grey it made her look so much older than she really was, sometimes. “All I have are tricks, Cirice. But with your magic, you can do things someone like me can only dream of.”

“I wish I could show you how I see you…” Cirice sighs softly, coming over and taking Iryla’s hands gently and looking into her eyes with a loving smile. “Magic means nothing without experience and you’re so experienced and clever and careful. You handle things with confidence and a will to survive and succeed. I admire you so much. I wish I was half as sneaky as you. If it wasn’t for how stealthy you are and good at sneaking then we might have gotten hurt in that ruin. You’re amazing, believe that.”

Cirice pulls Iryla tight against her in a hug, “Your skills are based off your experience, your will to live and be strong. My magic was granted to me through Mother Moon, I’m just an agent of her power. Your power is your own, be proud of that.” She gives Iryla another gentle squeeze then draws back with another encouraging smile. “Besides… You’ve got so much time to learn magic if you want! Maybe you could go to the magic school and learn there? We could get you the money!”

Internally Cirice decides that she’ll need to maybe calm down on the magic if it makes her friend feel sad. Iryla deserves all the opportunities to shine in her own right and she’ll make sure she has them. After all they’re best friends, building Iryla up is Cirice’s job.

“I wish you weren’t so hard on yourself, Iryla. You work so hard and you don’t let yourself relax or be a kid… You can relax with me. I’ll never think less of you for smiling. And I won’t let anyone hurt you or talk down to you for being young. You’re my role model, you know."

Cirice’s love is warm.

Not like the stifling heat of the desert. But more like… The light of a candle, burning in the darkness, shedding it’s light to guide the blind, with no thought of how it will eventually burn itself out. Cirice’s love felt like a cloak wrapped around Iryla’s shoulders, inviting her to sink down into it. Inviting her to take a moment to just breathe, to be.

Her hug feels even warmer, though at first, it leaves Iryla squeaking with surprise before she sinks into that as well.

“If I could see myself the way that you see me, I wouldn’t be myself at all. And you wouldn’t be you.” Iryla isn’t quite sure where the words come from, but they rise to her lips with such a confidence she cannot deny them life. “That’s the point of having friends, isn’t it…? I may not be able to see the qualities in myself that you see, but… I have you to remind me that I’ve come so much further than I ever thought possible. We can see the world from two different angles, and maybe come together, somewhere in the middle of it all…”

She trails off with a small laugh at herself and a shake of her head. “Look at me, trying to be optimistic and all that shit. You’re a bad influence, y’know?” The smile on her lips is rife with a wry merriment as she makes fun of the both of them. “Really Cirice… I don’t think I’m suited to be anyone’s role model. To tell you the truth, I’ve just been… Making all of this up. I’m not a skilled adventurer, I’m just someone who knows how to survive.”

A small sigh escapes from her then. “...But maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ve done more, and can do more, than I ever thought I’d be able to… I guess there’s just still a part of me that’s lost somewhere, wandering in Darkveil.” But just like Cyran found her, and Zarius and Cirice too, maybe one day Iryla would be able to find that piece of herself still wandering and lost, and guide it somewhere better.

Maybe she too could be that candle, pouring her light into dark places. Maybe one day.

“Magic, though… That might be a bit of a tall order for me. I don’t have a talent for it. And I’ve tried before. All the kids in the orphanage always did. We all wanted to be mages or knights or some long lost princess, anything other than an orphan. And there were one or two that ended up being just that. Showing some kind of spark of magic early on.” She’s still smiling as she looks to the cloud covered sky and breathes in the cool air.

“That was never me. But I have other things I can do. I’ve learned a lot from Cyran, after all. So, I’ll leave the magic casting to you, yeah? I won’t need my own spells if you’re here.”

“I’m the worst influence, I’ll make you happy as a clam and one day you’ll just want to leave this silly life of adventuring and just run a flower shop with me somewhere warm,” She teases with a laugh, kissing her cheek. “If everything you’ve done has been made up then you’re quite good at improvisation. You’re resourceful and I don’t think you could ever get lost and wander, you’d find a way to make a niche for yourself. Knowing how to survive is a very important skill.”

She pulls away, still holding Iryla’s hands and spins the two of them around in a small, joyful circle, “You’re my princess. My knight. My mage. I believe you can be anything you set your mind to. You’re not a lost orphan anymore, you have a home and a family. A dad who loves you and is proud of you. A best friend who wants to give you the world! Just because you didn’t have magic before doesn’t mean you can’t get it now. One day maybe I could teach you? But I’ll always cast spells for you, I’m here for you any time you want me, happy to be by your side.”

She pulls Iryla back into her arms and gives her a squeeze, “I’m just so happy to get to adventure with you. To see the world and do good and help people. You and me, we’ll change the world a little bit at a time.”

“Like right now, we’re going to save lives!” She gives Iryla one more squeeze and then they walk hand in hand towards the road where they’ll be playing bandits.

Curse this cursed snow. Curse it. It’s hard to see, impossible to hide in, and the sun’s reflections burn at Perrath’s retinas. Why did he agree to this mission? “Oh, sabotage some caravan traveling through Frost Gale. If it makes it to the ships, you’ll need to sabotage the ships. If the ships make it to Arid Mesa, you’ll need to sabotage them there.” That’d be the most expensive bet, but the most arduous.

Sigh.

Perrath is all for causing the greatest inconvenience possible to people who oppose his faith or his employers. Coin speaks a lot for one pursuing glory. Weapons, armor, and lodging are not cheap. But why is he here in the north attempting this? If ice collects on his wings again, he’ll have to land. It makes it much too difficult to fly, but walking through this disgusting blanket of white bullshit is far more difficult.

At least any dark shapes on the horizon are dark against the snow. After quite a while of flying, Perrath can finally make out the caravan. Good. Now he can cause quite a bit of chaos. How much blood will he get to spill today?

“Okay Iryla, you go hide and I’ll spook them from the front, sound good?”

Cirice waits for her best friend to slip into the shadows before she steps confidently in the slightly more kempt divot that passed for a road. She rolls her neck and pulls the hood of her dark cloak low over her forehead and the scarf up to conceal most of her face. Summoning her sword into her hand she tries to make herself look as big and intimidating as possible.

“Halt!” She commands, threading magic through her words to amplify her voice and make it sound more deep and intimidating¹. “I’m afraid I cannot allow you to continue forward for the expedition. Turn around and go back the way you came or else.”

The horses in the front of the caravan are still careening forward without slowing. Perhaps she’ll have to use a little force. She raises her sword and points it at the lead horse, the runes on her arm begin to glow violet under her gloves. The glow travels up the blade and shoots from the tip and hits the animal center-mass².

The effect is instantaneous and devastating. Overcome with fatigue, the horse buckles to its knees, dragging the horses behind it down too and causing the entire first cart to tumble and roll. The chain reaction spreads to the cart behind and the other waggoneers try desperately to get their animals to stop or else they also get caught in the carnage.

Maybe that was a little too much, Cirice winces looking over her horrible handiwork. Oops.

---

1 Sound Throwing
2 Desperation

Just as Perrath starts to approach the caravan, sword at the ready, one of the horses suddenly collapses, dragging its partner and the wagon behind it crumbling into a pile. What on earth caused that?? His eyes dart around at the scene until he spots one small cloaked figure at the head of the caravan, the faint glow of magic about their person.

The dragon’s scaled brow furrows deeply. Did his employers hire someone as backup? Should he be offended that someone else is attacking the caravan? If they think he’s incapable, then he rightly will be offended. Even still, if this person is here to do the same job as him, then he’ll at least use them to his advantage.

Without saying anything to his temporary partner, Perrath dives toward the back of the pack of caravans. Wisps of shadows collect around his body, obscuring his form and making him appear like a creature of darkness diving at the traders. Sickly green flames dance about Perrath’s blade, and in a blur, he swoops by another pair of horses. The twisted blade snags the equine flesh, blood and flames bursting from the wounds. In a chorus of screeches, the horses fall forward, throwing their riders from the driver’s seat.

---

Cloak of Shadows
Soul Slicer

Caught off guard Cirice blinks as a shadow seemingly falls from the sky and rends through more of the horses. The snow is painted red and green from the blood and flames and she takes a step back. This wasn’t what she’d planned, what is happening? That is certainly NOT Iryla, speaking of she looks to where her friend is hiding and motions for her to run.

Cirice runs forward herself, but into the fray rather than away. Its a mess, men and animals splayed everywhere with little bits of wooden wagon and supplies littering the area. Its a mess of carnage and the shadowy figure is in the heart of it, enjoying the thrill of blood sport.

“What? Who are you?” She asks the figure, holding her sword unfurled as a whip, ready to defend herself. “Were you sent by Zarius?”


She doubts that, she doesn’t think Zarius would send anyone else after them, especially not someone who would murder so wantonly. No monster she’s ever seen has carried a sword.

A few of the men who were not terribly injured scramble to their feet and try to run away. She ignores them, focused on the threat before her.

“I don’t want to fight you, but I will if I have to.” The runes on Cirice’s arms and her many blades of the whip begin glowing with violet light.

As his downward arc comes to an end, Perrath’s wings flare out, catching the wind and stopping his motion, two black sails made of webbed fingers. Two heavy crunches mark his feet entering the snow on the ground. Smoke collects around his person, and his eyes seem to glow a purple from within the cloud. Equipped with a gnarly black greatsword dripping with blood and green flames, his imposing silhouette tells exactly what he is: a dragon.

So who is this then? A girl? Young by the sounds of it. Her magic also contains hues of purple. Perhaps she belongs to Lunala as well? Despite the screams of terror and whinnies of panicked horses, the moment between Perrath and Cirice is as still as the winter’s air, equally as cold too.

“Zarius?” he finally says, his voice commanding the presence a paladin deserves. “No, and who sent me matters not.” One clawed hand motions to the carnage beset around them, put into motion by Cirice’s own doing. “However, it seems we share a goal here. I see no reason to come to blows.” Some of the carts have collected their bearings and are making an escape. That simply cannot be allowed.

"Either stand aside or continue your assault. If you stand in my way, then by the might of the Moon, I will smite you where you stand."

A dragon? Surely that was just a trick. She pulls her hood back, showing her tattoos that mark her as a priestess of her faith and her grim expression.

“By the might of the Moon?” Cirice echoes, “So you’re of my faith? You seek to stop this caravan from Arid Mesa as well, that’s… Enough to have us work together. Don’t underestimate me sir. I am the Maiden of the Eclipse, favored daughter of Mother Moon and if you want to fight it’s not me who shall fall.”

She sees the men trying to escape and grabs the nearest by the foot with her whip and flings him back towards the mess of a caravan. She raises her voice once more so the men can all hear her.

“You stay still. I came to stop you, not kill you. Your chances are better with me than out there in the ice.”

She retracts her whip back into a sword and looks at the dragon sidelong, sizing him up. “I’ve never met anyone like you. Mother Moon says to trust those with horns, so you’re likely trustworthy and she also said I should find an ally in the shadows soon. Perhaps that’s you. Who are you?”

With her hood pulled back, Perrath can see now who his standoff is with: a moon elf, and one who claims to be the Maiden of the Eclipse? Interesting. Mother Moon? Well, he’s called Lunala the Moon Mother. Perhaps her branch of the faith has different monikers.

“I do not wish to battle one who shares my faith,” Perrath says just as Cirice whips a man into submission. An amused smirk pulls at his draconic lips. Watching the man cower in the snow, he folds his wings along his back beneath his cape. Even without the wings, his figure still appears boldly draconic, fit with claws, horns, and a tail. He watches Cirice carefully. Trust those with horns? That seems both vague and specific. Well, why shouldn’t he use it to his advantage?

The movement of another cart catches his attention. Gathering magic in his hand, the paladin pushes a sickly beam of swirling purple energy, sending it careening toward the draft animals pulling the cart. The horse struck by the withering magic struggles to hold itself up and drags the other half of its pair down. Both animals trip, but they didn’t gather enough speed to send the cart careening.

Perrath turns his attention back on Cirice. “Perhaps we worry about introductions when we don’t have escapees to worry after, hm?”

---

Desperation

Maybe this strange dragon man really is a friend. She smiles a little and nods.

“Fair enough.”

She shakes a bracelet made of bones off her wrist and it falls to the ground and unfurls into a snake-like creature¹. Immediately it burrows into the snow, starting a slow circle around her to look for anyone hiding. In mere moments he alerts her to a presence cowering behind the smashed remains of a cart. She strides over and pulls the man to his feet.

“No use hiding, go sit with your friend.”

She starts walking around trying to find other hidden people and collecting interesting bobbles and things that came off the cart. Kevin alerts her to someone in a toppled cart and she pries the door open and pulls their unconscious form out. Soft violet light illuminates the runes beneath her silken gloves and the woman awakes with a start, dazed and confused². She carries her over to the others, huddled together and shivering, and conjures a large, warm fire in front of them³. They do not relax or look any less scared but their shivering stops at least.

“You’ll return to where you came and tell your masters that the Arid Mesa is not a place that people are meant to be. You’ll refuse their demands no matter the money or you’ll suffer this same fate again.”

---

1 Kevin the Bone Naga
2 Major healing
3 Camp Fire

To his surprise, the little moon elf has an undead pet. Perrath thinks little of it for now. There is still one cart making an escape from the situation. “I will return for our conversation,” the dragon declares, then he unfurls his wings and launches himself into the air to chase after the last cart. With another cast of the weakening magic to slow the last beast of burden, the cart comes to a slow stop. Perrath drops on the cart and with a plunging motion, drives his blade into the horse, putting it out of its misery. It wouldn’t survive out here on its own anyway, he reasons.

The driver and the passenger of this cart could very well piss themselves. It might keep them warm briefly. Perrath looks at them over his smokey shoulder, reveling in the terror in their eyes. “Do either of you revel in the moon’s light?” he asks, pointing his blade at them, warm blood dripping into the snow at his feet.

“T-The moon is only a weak reflection of Solaria’s lig-”

Perrath does not allow him to finish. In a swift motion, he removes the man’s head from his shoulders, and without waiting for the passenger’s response, he drives his blade straight into their neck. Both bodies collapse into the snow. Solaria's light. Bah. How dare they discount the moon's power? Hopefully, the little cleric has made quick work of the rest of the targets here.

Flinging the blood off his blade, Perrath flies back to Cirice only to find she has gathered the traders. “What is this?” he asks as he lands. Despite the obvious weight, his landing is only marked by the crunching of snow beneath his talons.

---

Desperation (use 2/2)