In hindsight, she should've known this was exactly how it would turn out.

Between her and the mysterious case of copious amounts of Astrid, they’d plastered a ridiculous number of posters across the city—more Astrid's copies than either of them combined, not to mention the efforts of half a dozen other volunteers.

She should’ve known it would leave behind enough trash to last through the entire winter.

She wouldn't be complaining if she had the faintest idea what the posters were about. As she stared at the unfamiliar symbols scrawled across each one, she couldn't help but scoff. Someone had mentioned it was all promotional material for the festival—one she'd accidentally attended—and yet it hardly seemed necessary to blanket the city in so much garbage.

She really wouldn't be complaining if it weren't for the strangers poking around her favourite spots, claiming they were cleaning up for the 'city.' She was half a breath away from hissing them off. Not to mention, the paper was excellent kindling. With winter closing in, she needed to stockpile whatever she could to survive another season without a roof over her head.

She’d come up with a clever trick to keep the locals away from the places she didn't want them. With a plan forming in her mind, she began making her rounds across Frost Gale, seeking out the usual gossipmongers who thrived on whispers and scandal.

Her first stop was the old herbalist’s shop, where a few regulars always gathered to exchange the latest news over bitter tea. She lingered near the counter, pretending to browse the dried herbs, before casually mentioning to the shopkeeper, "So, I heard one of the volunteers already got bitten by a rat in the alleys near the market. Nasty little creatures, aren’t they? Must be some kind of infestation."

The shopkeeper’s eyes widened, and Eva could practically see the gears turning in her head as she mentally filed the information away to tell her next customer.

Satisfied, Eva moved on to the bakery, where the smell of fresh bread drew in early-morning crowds. She struck up a conversation with the baker’s wife, known for her chatty nature. "Word is the alleys have become quite the rodent resort. If you have a fondness for your ankles, I’d suggest steering clear."

The woman gasped, already looking horrified at the thought. Eva knew that by noon, the entire town would be buzzing with the news.

As the day wore on, Eva made her rounds through the city, weaving the tale with just enough nuance to keep it intriguing without causing a stir. The blacksmith was told of rats nosing around in the shadows; the tavern owner heard about a few sightings near the bins out back. By the time she chatted with the fishmonger at the docks, the rumour had settled into something more of a mild inconvenience—enough to make folks think twice about cleaning up those corners, but not enough to spark any real alarm.

Her final stop was the market square, where she knew a group of traders often gathered to swap stories and news from other parts of the city. Here, she planted the final seed, ensuring the rumour would spread like wildfire. "It’s starting to be a bit of a nuisance, isn't it? Rats scurrying about. I even heard someone got nipped while poking around the alleys. Probably best to leave those spots alone for now, don’t you think?"

With her groundwork laid, Eva let the rumour fester and spread throughout the city. She didn’t have to wait long before the town started buzzing about the supposed rat infestation. People were already avoiding the alleys, and city officials began discussing what to do about the clean-up operation.

When the city finally decided to tackle the problem, Eva conveniently volunteered to handle the most infested spots herself. "I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty," she assured the city officials. "Let me take care of the main city areas while you focus on the underground passages. I’ll make sure everything’s handled. I'll deal with the infestation, too."

Her offer was quickly accepted, with grateful nods and murmurs of appreciation. Little did they know, Eva’s plan had worked perfectly. She now had free reign over her favourite dark spots, free from curious eyes, and the opportunity to gather plenty of paper and supplies to last her through the winter. While the city itself looked upon the young dark elf who volunteered for the task.

So selfless. So brave.

Let them think that, she mused as she crumpled another handful of flyers into her bag, humming a cheerful tune. The locals were more than happy to let someone else do the dirty work. No one was particularly eager to clean up anyway. Sure, it was slow and grimy, but this way, Eva could keep an eye on her hiding spots and gather materials to keep her warm during the freezing nights creeping ever closer. Frost Gale was never warm, but in winter, it was downright unforgiving.

---

SPOILER: Click to show

Quest Name: Out with the trash

Participants: Two or more

Location: Anywhere

Post Requirements: 4 post per person, 200 words per post

Reward: +1 Renown

Description: This years Summer Festival was a success, with cities and villages all over Charon ending their big blow out parties. Now it's time to welcome in Fall, but before we can, Summer needs to be cleaned up. Banners, flyers, trash and party favors line the sides of streets and overflow public trash areas. Local governments are asking for help in the general clean up. It's not as glorious as fighting a dragon or arresting a crime lord, but it's work that needs to be done. Help out with cleaning up after the festival and help keep our wonderful cities clean!

Unfortunately, for all of Eva’s efforts, they could not keep one foolish Fellblood determined to do some good for the world from investigating the back alleys. Since he offered to help clean up the posters – of which, there are far too many for him to count – and many of the volunteers have been scared off by the tales of diseased rats, the man twice as tall as most of the population of The Pale City bravely ventures where no unarmored person dares to go: the seedy underbelly alleys.

It’s no dirtier than Thunderhoof or Lillicors or anything in between. Rats? Hah, he’s eaten them spit roasted before! Rats don’t scare Das. He’s a brave warrior! More courageous than those city guards, anyway.

As Das goes about collecting handfuls of posters, including some posted far too high for him to think any dwarf could have reasonably reached in the first place (Little does he know, a little half-dwarf posted them there.), he hears the plucky tune being hummed by Eva not so far away. Oh no, someone shouldn’t be back here! Ripping the poster down, Das barrels down the alley to find the person humming.

Spotting her, he calls, “Hey! Miss! You shouldn’t be back here! Haven’t you heard about the diseased rats? You at least need some better shoes. Look, I’ve got armor all over, I’m not worried about myself, but you should be especially careful. They say the rats are the size of a child!”

He, of course, has absolutely no idea that these rumors are just that, and he has unintentionally found the source of them.

..Huh?

A towering slab of crimson muscle is talking to her. And Eva, as she stops humming (almost like a cicada suddenly scared into silence at the first sight of danger) realizes that it's already too late to avoid an interaction. It takes her a moment to grasp what he's saying, her eyes narrowing even as the unseeing one gazes past the fellblood.

Oh. Right. The rumor.

Specifically the one she was responsible for.

She hadn’t expected her little efforts to keep the locals out would attract the big guns, possibly directed through the city officials. It would've been too good to think they'd let a single person deal with the whole city, she supposes, though it's a little disappointing. She gives the soldier a once-over, noting how he holds himself tall and strong, but with a softness in his tone that reminds her of well-meaning city guards. The ones who tried to solve the issues by talking first. It wasn't that she particularly cared for violence, and she didn't quite enjoy it when it was mostly directed at her, but she'd also be the first one to say talking solved nothing.

"It's alright, sir!" she shouts back, a frown creasing her brow. "Actually, I'm an Official Rat-Wrangler to the Crown. I've been specifically tasked to take care of the problem and the clean up." *¹  There's an edge to her voice as she mimics the kind of professionalism she's seen from others in her observations, a hint of melody to her voice that comes from her elven heritage - as out of character as it was for her, it was also second nature to her to pick up a mask and adorn a different personality. The way she spoke left no room for doubt, with an authoritative gaze, believing in what she's saying before she's pushing the fake truth out. It helps that she's camouflaging the lie with the thin glaze of truth, where she's managed to get the officials to agree to let her deal with it. As for whether Frost Gale ever needed an official rat-wrangler? Well, Eva doesn't know if that's a title the crown offers, but stranger titles have been awarded to people before.

She pauses, glancing at her shoes. "These are my rat-wrangling boots. It's easier to dodge their attacks in light attire, you know. How are you going to chase them down in that heavy armour?"

Confident in her ability to convince him, she continues tearing posters off the walls, then continuing on to collect the fliers she found off the ground, while still keeping an eye on her new companion. 

---

*1. Smooth Talking:
Your lies can no longer be decerned, allowing you to say whatever you want, no matter how wrong it is, to be taken as truth. This skill is useful for getting away with things you normally would not be able to. Friend, family and foe will think you are always telling the truth, no matter what.

Das’s eyebrows arch in surprise upon hearing Eva’s supposed position. His left eyebrow is unmarred, but his right eyebrow peeks up from behind his eyepatch, revealing rough scars that must rake down behind it. Presumably, these scars are the reason for the eyepatch in the first place. “Huh? Really?” he says, flabbergasted that the city would ask someone unarmed to deal with killer rats. If anyone knows that looks can be deceiving though, it’s Das. He’s a pretty intimidating looking individual until one realizes that he is a softy at heart.

“Wow, the rats are such a problem that there’s an official for it,” he says, looking exasperated with his hands on his hips. “Well, the guards asked me to assist, so I’ll lend you a hand.” Walking closer, heavy footfalls with each step, his armor clanking together, the clattering suddenly stops. He hadn’t thought about how exactly he’s going to catch the rats, he just knows that he’s going to try.

“Uh…” Das carries the note out with a blank expression that indicates some thoughts are spinning but not fully formulating. “You know, I hadn’t gotten that far, but since you’re the official rat wrangler, I’m sure you have some good tactics. If I’m honest, I thought they might come try to bite my ankles, and I could just grab them then.” While the Fellblood knows how to set traps for wild game, rats are an entirely different entity, plus he doesn’t have traps with him. “Don’t have to dodge them if they can’t get through the metal.”

“Anyway, I’m Kar’Das’Dun,” he says, extending a hand for a handshake if she wants to take it. “Just Das for short. Good to meet you, miss.” His head tilts seeing her taking down the posters. “Oh, I suppose the festival is coming to an end. Taking down the posters now will get ahead of things for the city workers. Good idea. I can help with that, too!”

Eva raises an eyebrow, noting the surprise etched on Das's face. "You’d be amazed what cities deal with when it comes to pests. It’s not just crumbs they’re after, they can ruin everything," She tries to keep up the charade, her tone void of emotion- serious as she's seen the officials behave in the past, but perhaps still more amicable than she'd have liked - considering she failed to convince the other to leave. 

There's that saying about how life is a balance of good and bad. The dark and the light. 

Eva's lived long enough to know the balance is tipped by neither. The good is balanced by the power. It's how positive actions and intentions require strength, influence, or authority to be effective. Must be why all the heroes come with a heavy armour - whether it's represented by silver plates, or just a clever mind.
And the bad, it's balanced by the needs. Negative actions arise from unmet needs, a constant reminder in her life that desperation can lead to morally ambiguous choices.

There's a certain empathy owed to those who act not out of malice but out of survival.

There can be good without the bad. 
Just like how there can be bad without the good. Eva's surely experienced it.

And so, this towering figure, is stronger than Eva, in any sense of the word. It must be why he offers his help so casually, she muses, but as her defences go up subtly - hidden behind the façade of a working city official, she keeps her tone light, friendly, unsuspicious.

"Kar’Das’Dun. Quite a name. Seems like it should come with a title." She glances at him while tearing down another poster, her fingers deftly peeling away the remnants of the festival. There’s a hint of amusement in her eyes, but it’s quickly masked by her guarded demeanour. "I'm Eva. Eva, for short. Nice to meet you too, sir Das."

"Best to avoid any strategies that allow ankle-biting. Might want to watch your heels, rather than your chest. These rats aren’t your typical street pests. They’re clever and larger than you’d expect. Last year, I saw one dragging off a whole loaf of bread like it owned the place." She rolls her eyes, a fleeting flash of irritation crossing her features as she thinks back to that day. Of course, it had to be one that she was saving for another day, as stale as the bread had been. 

"Alright, if you’re going to tag along, then keep those eyes sharp," she instructs, thinking quickly on her feet to see if she could give the man another duty to keep his focus off of her. "I’ll handle this delightful mess, but I need you to play lookout. If those little pests think they can form a counterattack, we can’t let them catch us off guard. And if you spot one, I'll let you handle it. I’d rather not end up as part of their dinner plans."

It's partly a joke, as Eva knew full well that the city isn’t battling any giant pest issues--except for the usual amount of rats that skitter through her the streets. But really, she wouldn’t mourn the loss of a few if they happened to meet an untimely end right about now. Besides, there’s no greater satisfaction than watching those little nuisances scurry away in fear.

If she was truly honest, she was starting to think this whole rat-wrangling gig might have its perks after all.

To keep him distracted, she quickly turned back to the work at hand, while starting a casual conversation. "Say, where are you coming from? You don't seem like you're a local, or else I think I would have seen you before. I wouldn’t have failed to notice a mountain of a man like you." 

“Ah, no, that’s just my name. It’s… I suppose similar to first, middle, and last names?” He thinks that’s the best way to compare it even though the order of operations for his name is family name, personal name, and clan name. Not that others all need to know that. Still, he’s embarrassed at the thought of having a title. “No, no, not ‘sir,’” he corrects. “I’m not a knight yet. But someday soon, I hope to be. Miss Eva Rat Slayer, it’s good to meet you too.”

His hand goes unshaken, and he thinks nothing of it. Eva’s hands are full with posters.

Though his head tilts to the side with slight confusion, accentuated by his tall horns. “Are elves able to sharpen their eyes to match their ears?” He means nothing offensive by the comment, he’s just stupid and the turn of phrase goes completely over his head. In fact, he's very impressed by the idea. “That’s an incredible ability.”

At least being asked to keep a look out is a clear instruction for the man. He gives a salute in acknowledgement. “Ah, right! I can do that.” He turns with his hands proudly on his hips and scans the area for the danger of these particular rats. “These rats must be incredibly smart to plan a sneak attack like that. I can’t believe they’ve developed so much. Rats are tricky, but usually just to avoid getting caught, not to actively plot against people. I really underestimated them.”

While keeping watch, he glances over his shoulder to look at Eva when she asks where he’s from. “Oh, my clan is originally from Zeinav, but that was a few generations ago. They sailed south and landed in the valley, so I myself come from King’s Valley.” Das’s eyes snap back to keeping a lookout. “What about you? Are you a local or did your expertise in rat dealings land you a well-paying job with the city?”

Eva’s words came with a casual, almost playful insistence. "Well, if I'm just calling you Das, it's only fair you call me Eva. In fact, I insist." She adds as a last second thought, trying to navigate between her words and the way he took all of them very literally.

She found herself in an odd space between amusement and low-key terror, caught in the delicate game of managing every word that left her mouth--ensuring none of them could be twisted or misunderstood. Not that she owed him any honesty. That thought alone tipped the scales in favour of amusement, and she leaned into the game, her words slipping into a crafted exaggeration. "Oh yes, absolutely. It's quite a painful process but very handy. Especially when you want to be able to see things from far away."

She climbed down the wall to another section, eyes darting toward a cluster of posters she suspected one of Astrid’s duplicates had slapped up. "These rats aren't ordinary, you know. I think they've been charmed." Her voice took on a matter-of-fact tone, masking the lie that formed almost instantly. "Some say they used to be humans, cursed to live out the rest of their days as rats. No one’s been able to prove it, of course." She let the claim settle, a thin veneer of uncertainty giving it just enough edge to toy with curiosity. "Still, if you come across one, avoid looking them in the eyes. You might end up wanting to show mercy."

She hummed thoughtfully at his mention of Zeinav and King’s Valley, places she had only heard of in passing stories. "I’m a local," she added with a shrug, as though her origins weren’t a near-constant question she avoided. She supposed it was a honest answer regardless. She had been found in the mountains, so she may as well be of this land, even if she didn't know where exactly she was born, maybe it didn't matter in the end.

She didn't have any family history to offer Das in return, but he didn't have to know that.

"My family’s been here for generations," she lied, voice easy. "I’m not just a rat-slayer, you know. I deal with all kinds of dangers. But I like to keep it quiet--discretion is key when you’re helping the government." The final flourish was delivered with such calm conviction that it was hard not to believe it, even if it was miles from the truth.

As Eva worked on peeling another layer of posters from the wall, she heard the distant murmur of voices. Not from the alley, but from above. She glanced up, squinting as the sound grew closer, and saw a pair of children perched precariously on a rooftop ledge, peering down at them. The younger one held a paper bird, folded neatly from the familiar design that Eva had been trying to clean off the streets. 

With a sudden flick of his wrist, the boy released the paper bird, and it soared through the air, wobbling unsteadily before nosediving right toward Das. Eva stifled a laugh as it narrowly missed his head, bouncing off the cobblestones near his feet.

"Well, look at that," Eva mused, leaning against the wall for a moment. "Local air traffic’s getting out of hand."

The boys above giggled, clearly amused by their misfire. Eva tilted her head at Das. "Think you’re up for handling this one, Das? Maybe you can negotiate a cease-fire before they start aiming for your head on purpose." Her tone was light, but there was an underlying curiosity--watching how someone like Das would respond to something so unexpected and harmless could be more interesting than any dangerous encounter.

“Alright, alright,” Das says with a smile, holding his hands up in defeat. She has a point. If they’re going to be on equal footing, then they should be. Though he gets the feeling she’s on much better footing just by the fact that she has two feet when he does, in fact, not.

His expression, of course, changes to complete awe as Eva explains loosely about this ability he now completely believes elves have. “That…. That’s incredible. No wonder elves make such skilled hunters and archers. Truly eagle-eyed, your kind are. Amazing! You’ll have to show me once we’re done with the rats!”

And to his surprise, she elaborates more on these crafty critters. “Charmed?” Das has no reason to question Eva who is obviously the expert in this situation. His one eye blinks, considering all the information he’s just received about the rats. “...You know, if you wanted to make sure that I don’t show mercy, you probably shouldn’t have told me that rumor. If these were really once people cursed to be rats, shouldn’t we do something to try to help them? Or at least prove it wrong?” The very large Fellblood seems genuinely mortified at the idea of the rats possibly being people. To kill them would go against his whole “trying to be a better person” thing.

Das doesn’t have to know any of Eva’s lies. He eats them up like good soup because obviously someone doing the city such an important service is trustworthy in every capacity. He nods vigorously, his one eye glancing around to keep watch. “Yeah, I’ve heard similar things. There are a lot of whispers that the crown can’t be trusted. I can’t say I was ever in a position to care what they did or said, but now I guess I need to at least be aware of it.” His life with the Red Riders meant that the Riders were the most important thing. Anything else was secondary, even his own life in a lot of situations.

Vigilant as he tries to be, Das doesn’t see the paper bird. Instead, he sees the movement from its shadow and assumes it’s a rat. “Oh, there goes a rat now! Watch your feet!!” In a swift motion, Das snatches his greatsword from its place at his back and clomps after the shadow. The blade glows white hot as he strikes at the shadow only to find that it was exactly that. “Huh?” The paper bird flies between his horns and loops around to land at his feet. “What is…?”

Before he reaches down to pick it up, he hears the kids giggling above them and looks up to see them duck behind the edge of the roof. “Oh! Rascals!” Realizing his mistake, Das breaks down laughing. What a buffoon he is. “Had me thinking this” –He swipes the paper bird off the ground and holds it up.– “was a rat! Flying rats, that’d be something, wouldn’t it?”

Stowing his blade again, Das looks over the paper bird. He’s never seen one before, so despite his large size, he handles it with great care. Delicately, he fixes wrinkles and looks at the kids. “Not sure if I can make it fly back to you, but I’ll try.” It takes… several tries to actually get the thing to fly. There’s a certain finesse that he doesn’t possess required to throw it properly. Once he finally gets it to actually soar through the air, it doesn’t go far, but Das still finds cause to celebrate. “AH HA!” He cheers somewhat childishly in his own right, letting a little bit of his inner child out that probably hasn’t seen the light of day very often.

Regaining his composure and looking much more like an adult, Das clears his throat. “Ahem, uh, anyway, don’t litter the streets, kids!”

Eva held back a grin at Das' enthusiastic belief in her exaggerated claim, watching his awe unfold as if she had just revealed some grand elven secret. His wide-eyed admiration was almost too good. She could’ve told him the moon was made of enchanted cheese, and he’d likely agree without a second thought.

Her eye sparkled with amusement, especially as he began to take the rat rumour seriously.

Maybe I shouldn’t have gone so far with that one.

The moment he expressed concern over the idea of cursed rats, Eva’s smirk deepened, though she hid it behind a contemplative hum. "You’re not wrong, Das. Maybe there is something we can do for them," she said, maintaining just enough sincerity to keep him hooked. "But until we have proof... better safe than sorry, right?" The words rolled out easily, weaving the lie further, though the challenge of seeing how far she'd lead him was becoming more fun than it should’ve been.

His seriousness over government whispers intrigued her. There was something about Das' total trust and wide-eyed honesty that made him almost charming. The fact that he was so genuine, so unguarded, felt like both a puzzle and a contrast to Eva’s world of half-truths and misdirection.

Then came the paper bird.

The sight of the massive Fellblood lunging after a shadow with his greatsword, ready to smite what he thought was a rat, was too much for Eva. She let out an unguarded chuckle before covering her mouth with a hand, eyes gleaming as the paper bird made its unexpected cameo, soaring between Das’ horns. His bafflement as he held up the delicate origami creation, trying to reconcile the sight with his rat-hunting mindset, was priceless.

"You certainly scared that bird into submission," Eva teased, her grin impossible to hide now. "I think they are evolving to fight back. What next, fire-breathing rocks?" Her words were light, but her gaze was sharp, catching the flicker of his childlike joy as he attempted to send the paper bird back to its creators.

When he finally managed to make the bird take flight, albeit not very far, his triumphant celebration was endearing in a way she didn’t expect. She let out an amused chuckle. Watching him transform from battle-ready warrior to awkward, playful giant was oddly refreshing, especially considering Eva's usual crowd of people weren't usually as friendly. The kids' giggles echoed as they seemed to have started to run away from the bird that was attempting to make its way up back to them.

"Well, look at you. Slayer of rats and tamer of wild paper birds," Eva quipped, her tone playfully teasing. "You’re full of surprises, Das. Maybe we’ll get through this without a rat uprising after all." She flashed him a knowing look, still amused by the absurdity of the situation, but also... intrigued by how someone like him could be so different from the cynical world she knew.

After tearing down the last of the posters plastered on the wall, Eva made her descent with practiced ease. She leapt off the final ledge and landed gracefully on her feet, shoving the crumpled papers into her bag with a casual flourish. An idea was already forming in her mind.

"We’re all set here," she called to Das, dusting off her hands. "But I think I saw another alley earlier, absolutely covered in litter. If you’re still up for it, you can help me clean up a bit more. Just hand me whatever papers you find, and I’ll make sure they’re put to good use later. The city burns them during the bonfire celebrations."

Of course, there was no such celebration, and the papers were as good as trash for the city. But Das didn’t need to know that. As she led the way to a spot she knew was plastered with posters and littered with flyers, Eva was also aware that the location had its fair share of rats... Those pesky creatures that often raided her food stashes. Why not kill two birds with one stone?

To break the silence and keep Das engaged, she kept her expression neutral, casually glancing over her shoulder as they walked. "So, what brought a soldier like you here to Frost Gale? Pleasure or business?"

“Well, yes, I suppose, but shouldn’t we capture them to look for that proof?” he asks with a remarkable spark of wisdom. “I’m sure someone could speak with the rats through druidic magics. Then we could learn for sure.” Das places his fist in his hand like the gavel of a judge making a decision. “That settles it, we’ll wrangle the rats instead of exterminating them. You are the Rat Wrangler, after all! This is completely doable.” He has points A and B, but how to get to the latter completely escapes him. Eva, the genius between them, would obviously have a plan with how skilled she is at this. All he needs is to be told what to do.

This, of course, goes dashing out the window when Das perceives a tiny threat that he immediately lunges at. It of course is all for naught as it turns out to be a paper bird, which gives him a good laugh, and to his surprise, Eva as well. “Ah, so you don’t take everything so seriously!” he chides with a grin that shows wrinkles beneath his beard. “Actually, fire-breathing rocks are entirely possible. I’ve yet to see them myself, but I have heard of something similar in the Ashlands. I just haven’t made my way there quite yet. Soon, though. If I do come across them, I’ll be sure to remember it for you.”

After many attempts, the bird returns to its makers, soaring peacefully over the rooftop. Das rests his hands on his hips, looking rather satisfied that despite the struggles, he still managed to get it to fly again. It’s an encouraging sight in his eye.

His attention turns back to Eva again, eyebrows arched. “Oh yes, I don’t mind helping. I can reach some of the higher ones. Or you could stand on my shoulders if you need to. Whatever works best!” The idea of a bonfire really jives with the big Fellblood, especially in a cold place like Frost Gale. Gods, why do people live here? No wonder the dwarves made a whole city underground.

It doesn’t take long for Eva to distract him from what few thoughts he has. “Hm?” After a moment, the question processes, and Das tries to keep a straight face, but his brow furrows. “Soldier? I don’t know about that…” He does. But the Red Riders would call themselves raiders, warriors. 'Soldier' is just another term for that, isn’t it? “Well, maybe that is what I am. Uh, a little bit of both, I guess. Seeing places I’ve never seen, helping people who need a hand. Whatever needs to be done.”

Admittedly, making up for his past transgressions would be better spent on the communities directly affected by him and the Red Riders in King’s Valley and the Marsh Flats, but being there puts too much risk on being found out. No, he can’t do that yet. He needs to find the strength to stand up against them.

"Proof..." She furrowed her eyebrows, letting the story momentarily eclipse reality, amusement and curiosity blending in the dangerous glint of her eye. "Ah, no, it wouldn’t work. Druid magic only lets you speak with animals, you see. Since these rats aren’t actually rats, they wouldn’t understand the rat language druids use. There’s a bad loophole." She paused, then added thoughtfully, "Though it’s also possible they’re just a different species of rat that doesn’t talk. I’ve met people who don’t talk before. So, it’s perfectly possible, yanno."

The street slang slipped into her otherwise proper reply, her words tumbling over each other as she enjoyed the mental gymnastics it took to weave more lies into her growing web of deception.

She should feel guilty, but the other was just so... light-hearted, that Eva’s resistance was thin as a single hair, easily snapped. She blinked in surprise when Das called her out, a faint blush giving away her age in the quick change of her expression. She quickly schooled her face back to seriousness, as if to pretend the lapse had never happened. But her efforts were in vain, as the mention of fire-breathing rocks captured her attention almost instantly.

"Where’s Ashlands?" she asked, a bit too quickly, before clearing her throat to sound more composed. The façade was slipping, though. "Wait, is that, like, magic or a pet? Because I don’t know how to use either, but a portable fireplace would be really handy..." She paused, scrambling for justification. "For winter night patrols, you know. It’s going to be freezing out here in only a couple of months."

She stole a quick glance at Das, the curiosity now pulling her forward. He’d seen things, surely, things far stranger than even the tales she’d overheard in passing.

"So what kind of things do you do?"

This wasn’t quite like Eva--letting her usual cold exterior fall away, genuinely drawn to the tales Das seemed to carry. Or perhaps it was exactly like her, hidden under the surface. She’d always loved bardic stories, the tales of distant worlds and legends woven with a flair she couldn’t help but admire. But she rarely got the chance to hear them, only ever catching fragments from travellers or murmured boasts from drunken adventurers. Now, standing beside Das, she felt that longing stirring again, the old thrill for stories of strange places she hadn’t yet seen. Collecting the kind of information that might help her if she ever found a chance to travel again. Stories, experiences, names from faraway lands.

She couldn’t help but wonder what tales he might have. The way he carried himself, as if the world were simply a large room waiting to be explored, gave her hope he might also have some hidden bardic spark after all. A personal storyteller of sorts, if she could coax him into it while they hunted for non-existing human turned giant infesting rats. She liked to think he’d tell the stories without the usual flourishes, but she also wouldn't mind if Das chose to embellish it a little, painting himself a hero bigger than he was.

Seeing as Das is neither a druid nor particularly magically inclined, he looks thoughtful while Eva describes the reason that talking to the rats with magic won’t work. Well, she is an elf, and elves tend to be more in tune with nature as far as he understands. Disappointment crosses his face. “Oh… This issue is a lot more complicated than I thought. Of course, you’ve already considered all the options. That’s a shame. I hope that by exterminating them, we’re at least doing them a mercy,” he says somberly.

The melancholy doesn’t last long though, as the conversation quickly evolves due to the appearance of a paper bird and a handful of laughs that follow it.

“The Ashlands are…” Das pauses while evidently mentally mapping out a compass. “North is up, down is south, west is left, so east is…” He points confidently to his right. “To the east!” His hand is pointing north. “They’re not pets, but I suppose someone bold enough could make them a pet. I can’t remember what they’re called, but I heard they appeared after the volcano exploded. I haven’t gotten to see it for myself.”

The idea of Frost Gale being colder than it already is, which is quite chilly for fall compared to more southern regions like King’s Valley, causes Das’s brow to furrow. He’s always preferred the warmth of the sun, so he doesn’t think he’d like Frost Gale too much as a home.

As he follows Eva to their next destination, assisting with whatever she points out that needs to be done and thinking very little of if it’s the right or wrong thing to do (because clearly she knows what needs to be done), he thinks on her question. What kinds of things does he do? “Um… Well, fighting, I suppose, is what I’m best at, and even then I don’t hold a candle to some of the folks I’ve met since leaving the Valley. Maybe I am just a soldier… Taking orders is easier than thinking, but thinking for myself has gotten me this far.”

Admittedly, “this far” is farther by distance than it is by progress. Das has found plenty of new directions to take yet still doesn’t know exactly what path to follow. He has a pretty good idea, but there’s still work he needs to do to be worthy of taking those steps forward. “It’s hard to take steps to get out of a situation you’re not happy with, but doing it is worth it. I’ve learned a lot more in a short time than I did in all the time I spent doing what I was familiar with.”

Das looks at Eva with a surprisingly encouraging smile. “You seem pretty curious about the world. If you want to see what’s out there, then you should.”

Das is… interesting, for lack of a better word. Eva’s never met someone who trusted her so completely, especially not with her particular set of 'skills.' She’s a good liar, she’s always been proud of that, and he barely seems to question her intentions. Anyone with even a scrap of conscience might feel bad about that, might second-guess taking advantage of someone who thought the world was a better place than it really was.

"Yeah, I think we do." She keeps her face solemn, matching Das’s disappointment as if she, too, feels the weight of it. "It’s the least we can offer to them."

She watches him as he points to a spot in the distance that means absolutely nothing to her. North has somehow shifted into East from where she’s standing. She nods along anyway, humouring his enthusiasm. "I’m not sure I’m bold enough," she muses, keeping a straight face. "Seems like it’d be a hassle if it kept going off on its own. Then we’d have a fire problem on top of everything. Rocks should be harder to kill than rats, anyway… not that I’ve tried to kill a rock before."

She lets him help her this time, only asking for the papers he’s already collected when they’re done. For now, they work together to stack everything neatly in a corner. She nods as he talks about his experience with fighting, tilting her head, a bit skeptical but curious. Fighting, to her, is the opposite of what she’s good at. Eva is good at running. Fighting is for people who choose to stay.

Das seems like the kind who stays. He stayed to help her, after all, even after she told him he could leave and that she had things under control.

"What if you don’t agree with what you’re ordered to do?" she wonders aloud. "Is that still easier than thinking?"

To put your orders above your own thoughts, your own soul, even your life... Eva has a hard time relating to that. To fight for a cause instead of mere survival, to become just another tool in someone else’s hand... that’s a kind of loyalty she can’t quite grasp. But before she can press him with more questions, Das’s answer sheds some light on things, offering her at least a bit of understanding. Maybe he did leave his order, then--a soldier now choosing his own way because of some conflict, a disagreement?

"It’s been my experience that you learn to deal with things faster when you’re on your own." Not that she has anything else to compare it to, of course. "Though…" She frowns as if a contradictory thought has slipped in. "Sometimes other people help you see things you wouldn’t be able to on your own, I guess."

Das's sudden smile catches her off guard, and for a split second, she feels almost… shy. She’s still not used to people seeing through her, as obvious as she is. Turning quickly, she busies herself with the nearest stack of papers, hoping the motion hides the flush creeping up to the tips of her pointed ears.

"Ahem, yeah, maybe. Um, it’s just... a lot of planning. Takes a bit of saving up, yanno." She gives a small shrug, still avoiding his gaze, her eloquent speech fading into a more casual, street-like speech pattern. "So I like to know my options before I make any big moves."

Das doesn’t think he’s all that interesting, and he has very little reason not to trust Eva. As far as he’s concerned, she’s the authority figure here, and the guards didn’t make mention of anyone suspicious on the streets to keep an eye on. Besides, he doesn’t know much about Frost Gale enough to know what is or isn’t out of place.

“I haven’t tried to kill a rock before either, but then again, most of them aren’t alive… As far as I know… I could be wrong.” The realization hits him like a brick. If there are living, flying, possessed magic hot rocks in the Ashlands, then are there other living rocks throughout Charon? How many of them has he chucked into a lake or creek without much thought?? The world is so confusing when you stop to think about the consequences of your actions, a recent development for the Fellblood.

While they collect flyers, Eva hits him with a question that actually makes him pause and think. “Well…” he starts, considering how it is he would answer this. Finally, with a somber tone, he admits, “No. It’s a lot harder. It’s easy not to think about what you’re doing, to follow what you know. It’s hard to go against that. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but… In the end, it’s going to be worth it because at least my actions will be my own. I can be proud of the things I’ve decided to do, and I can make up for my mistakes however I see fit.”

He seems pretty resolved about the whole thing, but it’s obvious that there’s wisdom and experience behind his words. It might even be fresh for him. Still, he nods in agreement. He has learned faster on his own. It’s been an unintentional side effect of setting off on his own. He may not be particularly smart, but at least he’s thoughtful. (And easy to take advantage of, it seems.)

“If I waited until the moment was right to set off on my own, I’d still be looking for the opportunity,” he says.

It's always interesting when Eva manages to strip a layer off a person. It's not that often, considering she doesn't talk to people that much to begin with, but she takes pride in her skills to observe and notice things, even when she doesn't expect it. With Das, it's definitely unexpected.

It's not really a lesson that everyone has more dimensions than they let on. Even Eva herself, masks upon masks upon masks, coated with a simple layer of an emotionless façade, carefully constructed to shield the truths buried beneath, truths even she sometimes struggles to face.

Das on the outside, give Eva an impression of someone who's all brawns and little brains. Not that she's judging, she's probably not that different from him and without the brawns to brag about. But when he answers her question, she frowns thoughtfully, changing her perspective of the other. He's serious, she can hear it through his carefully picked words. There's wisdom that comes with the experience, one that Eva couldn't match herself.

He's shown real resilience in how he's learning to take responsibility for his actions. Eva might have learned to hide behind her wits, but she also admires that he's more self-aware than he initially lets on. She's surprised by how much depth he has underneath his tough exterior.

She then reflects on Das's idea of making up for his mistakes. There’s a raw honesty in his words, an innate sense of accountability that she can’t help but compare to her own approach to life. Where he seems to genuinely care about righting wrongs and taking responsibility for his actions, the dark elf's survival instincts lean toward keeping a distance from emotional commitment and moral responsibility. She prefers to look out for herself, because it’s easier than dealing with the weight of other people’s expectations or the consequences of her decisions. Watching Das grapple with his past and strive to make amends makes her briefly wonder if there’s a better way to live than constantly skating by on half-truths and distance. But she quickly pushes the thought aside. It feels too risky—too personal—for someone like her.

"Well, I’ll give you credit, Das. At least you’re out here trying to make things right. I don’t know if I’ve got the stomach for that kind of responsibility. Fixing your mistakes is a lot harder than just pretending they didn’t happen."

She turns back at the posters, continuing to pick them apart from the wall. Her tone is light, but sharp, she's not entirely immune to his perspective even as her opinions are on the more jaded, cynical side.

"Maybe you’re onto something, though. If nothing else, at least you’re not just waiting around for the perfect moment. That’s something, right? I can only wish you good luck."