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A tempest of sparks danced in the air as the blades of twin sickles clashed against the oncoming sweep of a dark, double-bladed glaive. Two female elven warriors dodged and parried each other continuously, their battle dance becoming a mere blur of wild motions. One, with the glaive gripped tightly in both hands, executed a handless cartwheel side flip that seemed to defy gravity. As she swung her weapon, she sliced it through the air in a deadly arc aimed at her adversary.
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Adorning the head of this glaive-wielding elf were two small, devilish horns, piercing through her purple tresses that barely would brush past her shoulders on any other calmer day. From beneath the hem of her tunic—a garment cinched at her waist by a leather belt that offered scant protection—a slender, succubus-like tail was wrapped tightly around her waist tucked safely behind her belt. As her opponent skillfully evaded the attack, sliding beneath her before she could regain her stance, a fleeting glimpse of her undergarments flashed as the hem of her tunic’s skirt, fluttered against one of the two antlers emerging from the mane of her foe. In that moment of vulnerability, the wood elf struck upward with one of her sickles while a gleam of excitement and determination filled her eyes.
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This intricate ballet of swiftly swinging blades and agility spoke of a rivalry as fierce as a dragon’s mighty roar, and of a camaraderie forged in the furnace of countless past skirmishes. Each movement, each strike, was an exemplification of their shared history and the unspoken bond they had forged together through years of combat experience.
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Once more, their blades clashed in a symphony of steel, the horned elf deftly deflecting the oncoming assault before gracefully regaining her footing. Before she could whirl to meet the antlered elf warrior's gaze, she swept the bottom blade of her glaive behind her, instinct guiding her to intercept yet another incoming blow. With a fluid motion, she spun back, her own strike launched in retaliation.
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With an abrupt cessation of the glaive's powerful swing, a small piece of antler tumbled to the ground, coming to rest amidst the verdant grass at their feet. A moment of shock enveloped the glaive wielder's countenance as she beheld an unexpected sight: the blade of her weapon she had been striking with had become ensnared within her opponent's antlers.347Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyYG3grnqbT
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A devious grin flickered across the wood elf’s visage as she deftly continued to ensnare her opponent’s blade in her antlers. She lurched forward, swinging her sickles with abandon as their razor-sharp edges barely grazed the fabric of the devil elf’s black tunic. Her sickles, only slightly curved compared to most, measured barely longer than a foot each. Both had been refined from a rare dragon obsidian alloy, adorned with intricate golden elvish symbols along their spines.
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Before her adversary could muster a counterattack, the wood elf snapped her head upward, a swift motion that sent her opponent's glaive arcing unwillingly skyward. Capitalizing on this disruption, she delivered a forceful kick to the abdomen of the devilish elf, propelling her backward into a somersault, her weapon clattering to the ground. Despite her slightly shorter stature compared to her foe, the wood elf stood tall and undaunted, though one antler was now conspicuously shorter than its pair. Her hair cascaded in hues of rich brown and amber, ablaze within the radiant light of the struggling sun as it fought against the encroaching shadows of the imminent dusk. Lengthy bangs framed her face, descending just to her shoulders, while shorter locks of hair in the back barely brushed the nape of her neck. From beneath this mane, her antlers gracefully ascended, symmetrically branching in majestic arcs akin to those of a young stag just entering the prime of its life.
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While clad in a dark green tunic, cinched at the waist with a belt, and a cloak of an earthly brown which danced majestically in the wind's embrace that swirled around her, she playfully said, “It looks as though you have been defeated— “
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In the blink of an eye, and before she could utter another word, the devilish elf girl seamlessly transitioned from rolling backward to standing, then charged toward the wood elf with her weapon already back in hand. With lightning speed, she began swinging her blade from behind as she executed a backward corkscrew side flip, her movements resembling a whirlwind of ferocity. Her actions were so swift that they seemed to defy the laws of mere mortals, appearing as if she had traversed the realms through magic rather than simply sprinting.
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While the devilish elf warrior's maneuvers were swift as the wind and her glaive's swing was as precise as a striking serpent, the wood elf gracefully leapt into the air. With the agility of a forest sprite, she deftly stepped off the blade of the incoming attack and propelled herself over the head of her adversary.
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After a nimble and theatrical display of acrobatics, the wood elf found herself crashing face-first into the ground as the devilish elf's tail ensnared her ankle, dragging her directly downward.347Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3r07OuK6rC
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With a swift spin and a gesture with one of the blades of her glaive toward the wood elf's neck, the devilish elf girl spoke sternly, "No, It appears you have been defeated this time, Gwen." She withdrew the blade from the wood elf's neck and continued, "Though I've lost count of our sparring matches, victories and losses alike, I dare say I am in the lead." With a smirk, she clasped her glaive to a leather strap and hook like holster on her back before turning away, making her way toward a large bonfire nestled between the caravan of wagons that surrounded them. The hood and paludamentum she bore billowed behind her as she stormed off, almost as if she were pouting.
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With a much-exaggerated moan and groan, Gwen got to her hands and knees and spit out a mouthful of grass and dirt before complaining, “Geeze, Ifera. You didn’t have to slam me down like that.” She rose to her feet, wiping the grass and dirt from parts of her antlers.
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Ifera quickly fired back, “You kicked me in the stomach, so you deserved it.” Then flopped down on a stump, that was sitting next to the bonfire.
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Encircling the camp was a series of large, double-decker enclosed caravan wagons forming a protective circle. These substantial vehicles, typically drawn by a combination of horses and dragon rhinoceros, were strategically positioned to encircle a spacious communal area. Each rectangular wagon was made up of two slightly shorter units linked together, much like train cars. The animals were harnessed to the lead wagon, which then towed the trailing one—a configuration repeated across the other two caravan units.
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The exteriors of the caravan wagons, from the wheels up to the first story's ceiling, were constructed from a sturdy combination of wood and steel panels. Small windows with retractable shutters were evenly spaced down the sides of each wagon, each adorned with a torch-mounted fixture near every windowsill, enhancing both functionality and security.
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Although each caravan car consisted of two large, conjoined wagons, there was only one primary entrance to the living quarters from ground level. This main door, located on the first wagon of each caravan car, provided access to the inner chambers of both wagons. At the rear of the second wagon, there was a large bay door that also led to the interior, but it was less frequently used—mainly during the setup or breakdown of camp, when loading or unloading supplies and cargo, or when Nox and the other animals needed to board.
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The front of each wagon, leading all three caravan cars, featured a coach driver’s quarters that could comfortably seat up to six people under a soft canvas top. The canvas peaked at a triangular point at the front of the car, while the wooden structure underneath closely resembled the prow of a wooden boat. Known as the cockpit, the coach driver’s quarters were elevated high off the ground, deterring any intruders from easily scaling the walls.
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The ceiling of the second story across all the wagons in the three caravan cars was covered with a soft canvas top. This upper level, beneath the canvas, was primarily used for storage. It housed crates filled with a diverse array of supplies, spare parts, and tools necessary for the maintenance and repair of the wagons and other equipment.
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Additionally, a sophisticated system of large barrels was strategically strapped together and interconnected by an advanced piping system. This setup distributed various liquids to each cabin, including fresh water for sinks, toilets, and showers; ale to the kitchen and dining areas; and an assortment of potions, draughts, and elixirs to the armories of each caravan car. These provisions were crucial for restocking before mercenary deployments, monster hunting jobs, or various quests.
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Each wagon was equipped with a basic defense system that included small catapults and cannons, integrated into the walls and floors of the second story and concealed beneath the soft canvas top. These were strategically positioned between each storage row on both the port and starboard sides of the wagons. Two out of the six wagons sacrificed a significant portion of their storage capacity for a more advanced weapons system. This system was comprised of cannons and catapults as well as large modular ballistae on rotating platforms that could be deployed by retracting the canvas top.
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A gunner could operate each ballista from a control seat equipped with numerous levers and triggers, allowing precise manipulation of the weapon's movements and firing mechanisms. Each ballista was outfitted with two magazines, one on each side of its rotating platform. These magazines were automatically fed bolts from the ceiling via mechanical springs located in the lower deck. When any section of the modular canvas top was retracted, the walls beneath it could fold outward by ninety degrees, effectively expanding the usable area of the upper deck.
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In each of the three duo caravans, the first wagon featured a mid-level split staircase at the front that provided access to both the upper and lower floors, as well as leading to the cockpit area. Internally, each wagon was uniquely configured. Typically, the front car of each caravan, which contained the cockpit, also housed a dining area, sets of double bunk bed cabin rooms, a toilet, and basic storage facilities. In contrast, the secondary cars in each caravan displayed significantly different interior arrangements.
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Although all wagon cars were fully furnished, their interiors varied based on the type and extent of weaponry integration. Wagon cars with basic weapon systems installed on the second story generally included additional cabin rooms, kitchens, multiple toilets, and bathing areas. Conversely, the two wagons equipped with more comprehensive weapon systems featured larger armories and weapon staging areas. These were better equipped to handle confrontations with large ground and flying monsters, which would typically be challenging to tackle alone on foot.
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At the helm of the lead wagon, under the shadow of a large, wide-brimmed hat sagging backward toward the staircase entrance, sat a man of average stature. His attire, a faded dark brown cloak and shaggy medium-length brown hair, blended with the rustic ambiance of the caravan. Atop his hat, a cat slumbered in silent repose. The man lounged comfortably, feet propped up on the rail before him, hands cradled leisurely behind his head. From his lips, a trail of smoke gently wafted upward as he puffed on a long cob pipe, exuding a calm mastery of his convoy.
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He observed Gwen as she wearily made her way to the bonfire, reeling from her sparring defeat by Ifera. She securely fastened her sickles into sheath-like grips attached to the outer sides of her boots. Her cape billowed gently behind her as she staggered, her movements exaggerated and slow, limping from side to side. With each labored breath, she let out soft moans and groans, playfully muttering curses at Ifera under her breath.
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Around the bonfire, several tripods with pots simmered over the flames, and makeshift tables were constructed from empty crates. Ifera sat on a crate, devouring a large piece of steak-like meat with both hands. As she bit into it and tore off chunks with her razor-sharp, shark-like teeth, the juices from the undercooked meat dribbled down her chin and rapidly dripped onto the plate on her lap. Unlike Gwen, who was a full-blooded wood elf, Ifera was of mixed heritage—half lunar elf and half scarlet devil. The scarlet devils, a succubus-like race, were demonized by the Valmosian Empire regardless of their moral alignment after its rise a decade ago. Across the continent, most dark races, as well as other demi-races and beastmen, faced persecution and were largely enslaved in the lands loyal to the empire.
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Gwen stood beside Ifera, her voice tinged with humor as she quipped, "Have you even allowed the meat to cook thoroughly, or are you devouring it raw like some feral beast?"
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Ifera, tearing another voracious bite from her steak, replied with a savage grin, "I favor it rare and bloody." As she chewed thoroughly, her expression softened into a frown. "I apologize for the damage to your antler."
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Gwen, ladling some stew from a simmering pot nearby into a wooden bowl resting on a wooden crate, responded warmly, "Think nothing of it. They've grown overly long; I needed to trim them before we reach the capital anyway." She raised the bowl to her lips, slurping noisily, then added, "I abhor navigating through crowded places, dodging passersby as they brush against them."
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Her words blended with the crackle of the fire, as a six-inch fairy came crashing down on Gwen’s head while she began slurping from it, causing her to drop her soup onto the ground. Clutching one of Gwen's antlers, the fairy proclaimed, "Your antlers are a mark of pride, not shame! We need not appease those bigoted fools who grovel at the empire’s feet, simply because they take offense at such noble traits."
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As Gwen bent over to retrieve her bowl, she scowled and said, "Damn it, Esmerelda! You shouldn't just crash down on me like that." She reached for the nearby cooking pot to refill her bowl and continued, "And it's not about appeasing those pretentious sycophants." Gwen returned the bowl to her lips and began devouring its contents. After a moment of vigorously inhaling her food, a burst of soup—laden with partially chewed bits of shredded meat, boiled potatoes, and long noodles—erupted from her nostrils in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
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Esmerelda, the tiny fairy, grasped Gwen's antlers as Gwen's head rocked back and forth crazily, noodles swinging wildly from her nostrils while she continued to laugh uncontrollably. "Have you gone mad?" Esmerelda cried out.
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While Gwen continued to laugh, oblivious to Esmerelda’s outburst, Ifera commented wryly, “After the way you ensnared my glaive with your antlers, I wouldn’t be surprised to see you charging down the capital’s streets, headbutting unsuspecting townsfolk as they pass by.”
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She placed the final morsel of steak between her lips, but before she could savor its flavor, a massive dire wolf, its fur a tapestry of dark grey and white, stealthily approached. Unnoticed until it was too late, the beast affectionately assaulted her face with its tongue, eagerly lapping up the remnants of her feast in a display of wild affection.
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As the wolf enthusiastically bathed her face with its tongue, Ifera scooted backward in an attempt to escape, tumbling off the crate and crashing to the ground. There, she was greeted by a second large white dire wolf, which also seemed eager to help remove the steak juices from her face.
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The large wolves, overwhelming in size compared to Ifera, continued to lick her face enthusiastically. Meanwhile, they also sniffed around her pockets, searching for any additional food and crumbs that had scattered across Ifera’s tunic from her messy eating.
Gwen's laughter ebbed into soft giggles. Regaining her composure, she finally spoke, "Forgive my mirth; I was picturing all the bewildered faces—and Isaac’s likely jest—if he had witnessed my tumble into the earth, courtesy of Ifera’s tail ensnaring my ankle."
With a tart edge to her voice, Esmerelda inquired, "Is that really what amused you? That’s not even humorous! He never utters anything intelligent or funny.”
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Struggling to her feet amid the wolves, Ifera countered, "That's not true. He’s always making jokes in that gruff voice of his."
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Esmerelda shot back instantly, "Well, I wouldn’t know since every time he speaks, all I hear are pigs squealing and the ghastly wails of a perishing banshee."
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As Gwen tugged on a noodle still dangling from her nostril, she remarked, “I rather like his voice; it’s soothing, like water from a babbling brook gently flowing past a gathering of moss-covered rocks.”
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After loading large portions of various foods into two bowls, Ifera set them down before the two large dire wolves. She stroked their backs and ruffled their fur as they began to devour the feast she provided. Turning to Gwen, Ifera imaginatively said, “I always thought his voice sounded more like a gentle, cooling spring breeze rustling through the leaves of an elder sassafras at dusk.”
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Perched atop Gwen's head, Esmerelda watched with a look of distaste as Gwen and Ifera laughed, while continuously and playfully comparing Isaac’s voice to various sounds of nature.
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Esmerelda, a woodland fairy, stood merely six inches tall and donned a worn, green tunic akin to Gwen's. Around her waist, she snugly wore an enchanted gold ring of strength—barely large enough to fit the fattest finger of an average-sized ogre but perfectly suited for the waist of a six-inch fairy.
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Despite her diminutive size, Esmerelda had discovered that she could harness the enchantments of jewelry designed for much larger beings by wearing them like belts.
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With the ring of strength, even a simple punch from Esmerelda packed the force equivalent to two punches from an average-sized human male. This newfound power enabled her to carry, move, and wield objects that would typically be impossible for a fairy of her size.
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Like Gwen, Esmerelda had short, thin antlers peeking through her short brown hair. Her wings were bright pink, and her eyes a vibrant blue, both emitting a soft, natural glow. She wore tiny, cloth-like socks on each foot and consistently displayed a demeanor that was both sour and sassy.
Ifera seized two more steaks from a tray resting beside the fire on a crate, clutching one in each hand. She ripped a chunk from one with her teeth and began to chew as she called out, "Theo! They've been absent for ages. Perhaps you should try contacting them with your telepathic thingy."
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Theo, the coach driver, who was still seated in the coach's quarters of a nearby wagon, took a thoughtful puff on his pipe before replying, "I was pondering that very thought, Ify-kins."
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Ifera, her mouth brimming with food, stood abruptly and proclaimed, "That's not my name! Address me as Ifera, as does everyone else!" With a huff, she swallowed her bite, took another, and continued, muffled by the food, "Nor am I to be called Ferri-doodle, Ify-pie, or Ify-licious."
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Theo chuckled softly and said, "You don’t seem to object when Kjell bestows those names upon you each time we stop through Blue Wyvern."
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Ifera, her visage once again adorned with steak juices and morsels of food, countered, "That’s because he's the tavern master and he rewards us richly for our services. I assure you, if I encountered him in as compromising positions as I do you, or shitting with the privy door ajar, I would not permit him to call me such names."
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Embarrassed, Theo responded with sudden sternness in his voice, "The door was BROKEN. How many times do I have to tell you that?"
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Ifera retorted, "So you couldn't find another one with a door that works? It's not as if there aren't four others available."
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Gwen chimed in playfully, "I think he likes pooping with the door open. He's like those voyeurs, who get people to pay them so they can peep through a tiny hole in the wall at their inappropriate scenes."
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Ifera, looking puzzled, shot back, "Well, that explains where you've been hanging out while off duty."
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Gwen quickly defended herself, "NO! I was just making a point because he's been doing it for years!"
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Ifera responded with a hint of sarcasm, "Yeah, right. At this point, he should just start going in the woods with Ragnar and Ragnus instead."
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Upon hearing their names, the two wolves' ears perked up as they continued to eat from their bowls. Ifera caressed Ragnar’s white fur with a hand still glistening with meat juices, while Theo declared, "The other privies lack the comfort and security that the broken one offers."
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Gwen asked, “How in the hell does a toilet provide security? Especially one with a broken door?”
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Theo explained, “That beguiling throne of porcelain and dragon glass not only sits opposite a large window across the hall, providing a vantage point to keep watch for preemptive strikes against us, but it also boasts a thick plate of black dragon steel fastened to the outer hull directly behind it, protecting its king from any surprise back attacks.”
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With a disgruntled look on her food-laden face, Ifera scoffed, “Good gods, Theo. You're a grandmaster spell sword and you can’t fix the blasted door? And can't you sense people and monsters' essence, alerting you if they’re nearby presence?”
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Theo said arrogantly, “First off, not everyone skilled with magic parades around with their cocks swinging about, heralding their arrival. Second, I’ve tried to mend it, but the screws stripped the wood in the door frame, refusing to hold in the hinges any longer. I've brought it up with Morak, but he always brushes it off, saying he’ll deal with it later.”
Gwen chuckled and remarked, “See? I told you he just wants to poop with the door open.”
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With a sudden yelp, Esmerelda exclaimed, “Enough! I can’t bear to hear any more of your excuses and crude talk about bodily functions. or how Isaac's voice, soft as the verdant moss on an enchanting tree stump glistening in morning dew, could soothe even the most restless infant trolls to sleep.” Esmerelda soared into the air, her tiny yet powerful voice booming, “Now cease your chatter and contact Osira or Osirus like Ifera suggested.”
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Theo retorted, “Hey, I was just defending my honor while these tiny prepubescent gremlins were attacking me.”
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Gwen responded sourly, “I am neither tiny, nor prepubescent, or a gremlin. I'm almost forty-four, thank you very much.”
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Theo countered matter-of-factly, “Both of you barely reach five feet in height, I've never seen either of you with a partner, and you both cackle loudly into the wee hours of the night from your rooms, keeping the entire caravan awake. So, I'd say my previous statement was accurate. And even if both of you are in your forties, that still makes you babies by most elven standards.”
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"Ifera savored the last bites of her two steaks and spoke, “Actually, coach driver, I cannot discern my true age. My father never bestowed upon me the celebration of birthdays before selling me off to slave traders after my mother passed. So, until your guys' noble rescue, I have just been telling anyone who asks, that I'm the nice youthful age of one hundred."
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With a graceful motion, she rose from her seat, her paludamenta draped regally over her shoulder while she arched her back, stretching her hands skyward. But before the group could dwell further on her previous statements, Ifera's tone shifted, as she asked, "Could you believe those cultists were trying to sell me off for only one hundred gold coins??'
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As she concluded her stretch, she declared with conviction, 'I am worth no less than a thousand gold, or perhaps even twenty Dragonstone coins.' Her words hung in the air while she began counting her fingers pondering the amounts in her head."
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Gwen sprang to her feet, her hands thrusting upward, causing the remnants of soup to splatter out from her bowl as she exclaimed, “I would have gladly parted with a million Dragonstone coins for my dear Ify-poo!”
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Meanwhile, a furious Esmerelda hovered above, her voice echoing with frustration, “Are any of you even paying attention to me?”
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Theo, sensing the urgency, sat upright and brandished his sheathed sword before him. With a swift incantation, the gem nestled at the sword's hilt began to emit a soft glow. He then addressed it, “Osirus, are you present? What is causing the delay?”
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Osirus's voice resonated from the gem with frustration, “Finally! It's about time you checked in! We wrapped up the job hours ago, but these delinquents decided to take a nap just as we finished. We need a pickup pronto.”
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Theo chuckled in response, “Sounds like you guys got put through the ringer.”
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Osirus snapped back sharply, "Watch your tongue, coach driver! We executed our mission flawlessly. We just encountered a few minor hiccups."
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Theo nodded, "Alright, we'll wait for Lizyra and Isaac to return, then we'll come get you. Hang tight." He terminated the communication before Osirus could retort. Standing up, he stretched his limbs and called out, "Everyone, pack up! We need to leave as soon as Lizyra and Isaac return. Osirus and crew need rescuing."
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With a gentle hand, Theo carefully lifted the slumbering cat from the brim of his hat and placed it on the seat behind him. Gripping the side wall of the cockpit firmly, he vaulted over the edge, his cloak billowing behind him as he descended. He landed gracefully on the ground, executing a perfect somersault before coming to a standstill. Nearby, a collapsible stable housed a variety of horses and dragon rhinos, quietly munching on their feed. Theo began packing supplies into a compartment on the side of the wagon, preparing for the rescue mission ahead.
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A man as tall as Theo, his long spikey brownish-red hair bursting out from behind the head band that hugged his forehead, emerged from one of the other caravan cars clad in lightly plated leather armor. Worry etched his expression as he addressed Theo, "Are they truly in danger? Or are you merely dancing with your words?"
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Theo's response was swift, "Not at this moment. Osirus mentioned the others were taking a nap, which likely means they sustained injuries and Kitsune went overboard with her healing. But if we delay too long, the creatures of the night will undoubtedly emerge."
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Esmerelda descended gracefully from above the spiky-haired man and interjected, “Vyncent, it seems you'll have to assert your authority and instruct them to prepare, as they're not heeding my words.”
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Vyncent nodded in agreement, "Very well.” He then called out loudly to everyone, “Let's all prepare to depart the moment Isaac and Lizyra return so we can pick up the others." He swung open the Dragon steel-plated door, but before re-entering, he reached into one of his pouches and retrieved a silver ring. Turning to Esmerelda, he called out, “Hey Mer! I nearly forgot to give you this.” He extended his hand, offering the ring, “It's the enchanted fire ring we discovered in the temple of Emberix. Isaac modified it so it should fit around your waist. He mentioned something about the possibility of combining it with your wind magic to create lightning or plasma.”
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Esmerelda elegantly floated down, landing in the palm of Vyncent’s hand, and remarked, “Thank you, Vyncent. I’ll pretend it was a gift from you instead of Isaac.”
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With a smile, Vyncent responded, “You know, you ought to be nicer to him. Over the past five years or so, he’s done more for you than anyone else here. He even hand-tailors all your clothes when most fairies I’ve encountered on our adventures tend to fly around in the nude.”
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After picking up the ring, Esmerelda replied exquisitely, “I am not one of those miscreant Fae who provocatively flaunt their bodies for whimsical amusement. It’s been almost two hundred years since I arrived on this continent, and I’d say that the Fae here must suffer from some sort of curse or mental disorder to constantly fly around in the nude and only concern themselves with humor and pranks.”
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Vyncent retorted, “I’ve traveled to many continents, with you in fact, and I’d say you are the oddball. The only other fairies with your mindset are the ones you’d meet running market stalls, shops, or those of high nobility within the bigger cities.”
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As Esmerelda flew back up into the air, Vyncent stepped into the wagon, his voice echoing loudly as the door closed behind him, “For all we know, you have us under one of your enchantments and have been playing ruses on us the entire time.”
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Meanwhile, Gwen and Ifera busied themselves packing up supplies and moving crates into the back of one of the larger wagon cars, that had its rear ramp door down. Ragnar and Ragnus ascended the ramp into the back portion of a different wagon that featured an interior resembling a barn and collapsed into a large pile of hay. Perched above them in the rafters was a small black crow, observing intently as the wolves rolled around in the hay.
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Two female caravan members emerged from the main cabin portion of the wagon and passed by Ragnar and Ragnus on their way out the back ramp into the campsite. One of them was Riley, a demi-human feline of the Nyan race, with short locks of sky-blue hair and barely noticeable whiskers adorning her human-like face. She stood a few inches shorter than Vyncent, wearing a brown tunic with her tail wrapped around her waist. Unlike Kitsune, who displayed slightly more fox features than human, Riley had a predominantly human appearance, with only her cat ears, whiskers, and tail revealing her feline heritage.
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Letting out a loud yawn, Riley greeted the group, “Good morning, everyone.”
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Esmerelda snapped back, “Good morning? The moon is almost out.”
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The other girl, nearly as tall as Riley, was human with long vibrant crimson red hair. Unlike Riley, who was dressed like someone about to go to bed, she wore a headband and attire reminiscent of a stealthy ninja who was slightly revealing a little more skin than intended.
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Upon hearing Esmeralda's remark, she retorted, “Well, you aren’t the one on watch tonight, now are you, buttercup.”
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Both girls began helping pack up the camp as Gwen addressed them, "Good evening, Riley and Sakura! Did you both sleep well?”
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Sakura replied, "Not really, kept having weird dreams. This evil kitty here, though, slept like a princess and kept talking in her sleep. I had to keep kicking the top bunk to get her to shut up."
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Riley chimed in happily, "Yes, I did. And I can't wait for my next catnap.”
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As they set about the task of tidying up the camp, the ethereal melody of distant wings unfurled through the air, drawing their gaze skyward. From the heavens above, Nox and Lizyra descended gracefully, their forms alighting beside the flickering bonfire with a soft thud.
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After dismounting from Nox’s back, Lizyra called out, “I’m back everyone! Sorry to take so long.”
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Gwen's voice rang out joyfully, “Welcome back, Lizyra!”
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The group gathered around the majestic dragon, showering Nox with affectionate gestures—gentle pats, soothing scratches behind the wings—as if he were a cherished family pet. Ifera produced some steaks from one of her pockets, that she had been hiding from Ragnar and Ragnus, and extended them to Nox with a respectful nod and a sharp grin upon her face.
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At the sight of everyone's affection for Nox, Lizyra turned with her nose up slightly and chirped with sarcasm, “Well, it's good to see all of you too.” After a moment of pouting, she glanced around and noticed Isaac's absence. Concern creased her brow as she pondered how Isaac should have returned by now.
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“Has Isaac already made it back?” she inquired aloud.
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Ifera shook her head, her attention still focused on Nox. “Nope! You beat everyone else here,” she replied cheerfully before returning her gaze to the dragon, who was eagerly devouring the steaks.
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Theo appeared from behind Lizyra, his hand resting gently on her head, dislodging her hat and ruffling her hair. “There's no need to worry. Isaac can handle himself. I checked in with him earlier, and he mentioned you were on your way back. He just had something to attend to.”
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Lizyra spun around, her smile radiating as she exclaimed, “Master Theo! I got to use some of those new spells you taught me, and it was exhilarating!” Swinging her staff with practiced grace, she recounted the encounter with the thieves, mimicking their voices and adding sound effects to enhance the tale of Nox's rescue and Isaac's metamorphosis into a tree.
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As Lizyra regaled the group with her theatrics, Isaac emerged from the distance, riding atop his horse with a large boar-like creature slung over its back. He waved in greeting as the others turned to welcome him back. Vyncent emerged from the caravan he had been occupying, drawn by the celebratory commotion, and approached Isaac as he entered the camp.
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Isaac beamed, “Look, Vyncent! I stumbled upon this creature on my journey back and couldn't resist capturing it.” Dismounting his horse, he continued, “It's an extremely rare red-tail hog.” Vyncent inspected the creature from head to toe, nodding in agreement.
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“That is indeed rare,” he affirmed, “and it will fetch a hefty profit!”
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Isaac glanced at the hog, then back at Vyncent. “Actually, I was thinking of cooking it up for dinner tomorrow. There’s more than enough to feed everyone, and after countless nights of dragon raptor steaks, I thought it would be a welcome change.” With a grunt, he hoisted the hefty hog over his shoulder and ascended one of the caravan's ramps into the carriage housing most of their reserved food supplies.
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Vyncent nodded in understanding. “Ah, I see. Well, good job, Isaac. That's a rare find, and I'm sure everyone will appreciate having something different to eat.” Turning to address the rest of the crew, he announced, “Everyone, we're departing in five minutes! Make sure you have everything you need, because after we rendezvous with Osirus's party, we're heading west to meet up with Vlad and his group.”
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"No stops until then," he added firmly.
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Gwen turned around with a pleased expression and shouted, “Huzzah! It has been an eternity since our fellowship was reunited and not divided among other missions.”
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Ifera retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes, “Yey, Vlad, the horniest guy on the planet. I cannot contain my anticipation to hear his crude remarks and jokes again.”
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Isaac, his countenance adorned with a mischievous grin, descended from the wagon ramp after stowing the hog, and interjected, “Come on, Vlad is not without his virtues or a bad companion.”
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Ifera continued, “I feel like it was only yesterday he was leering at me through the crack of my door while I was changing into my clothes.”
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Riley cut in and said, “That’s only because you leave your door ajar for him to leer at you. I believe you still leave your door cracked open every time you change, hoping his wandering eyes catch a glimpse.”
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With her words laced with a touch of disdain, Ifera sharply retorted, “Aye, at least I’m not leaving the stall door wide open, allowing the entire realm to bear witness to the cacophony of my bowels emptying after a heavy night of smoking and drinking ale like Theo.”
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Theo came walking over after hitching all the animals to the reins and said, “Alright, rumpus time is over. We need to get going and stay on watch for any predators of the night.”
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Isaac packed away the last of the gear spread throughout the camp into a storage compartment near the bottom of one of the wagon cars. He then introduced Theo to the new horse he had taken from the thieves to be inducted into the caravan.
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Theo asked, “You stole a horse? That’s a little low for a knightly man such as yourself, don’t you think, Sire Isaac Leolar of Enos?”
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Isaac hastily responded, his tone tinged with urgency, “I assure you; I did not pilfer it. Lizyra unleashed her arcane might upon their carriages, rendering them useless. With no need for excess steeds, we merely appropriated one for our needs, indefinitely. After witnessing Lizyra's peaceful and completely non-violent diplomacy, they were left with little choice but to acquiesce. As for the title of knighthood, it remains beyond my grasp, for the kingdom fell before I could be bestowed such an honor.”
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With their preparations complete, they welcomed the new horse into their ranks. Each member took their place within the carriages, and the caravan began its journey under the cloak of nightfall.
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