On A New Path

[Baleron87]

It had been a long night. Such an grievous understatement given the years of dreaming that had just recently ended, but in all he couldn't help but feel thankful for such a dream. He recalled so many important life-changing moments from it, and he knew he still carried within himself those same values. However, he had to recognize that they were all just dreams. To believe that they were anything else would have torn his thoughts and mind asunder. It had taken the entirety of that last night to sift through his memories and pick out reality from fantasy, and as the sun rose above the horizon, he had pretty much pieced together what had happened to him.

Now with his history in place, he was once again the quiet and reserved traveler he had always been. The Blood Gift, as he had liked to think of it while it resided within him, was now gone. That was all thanks to the wonderful Archmage Armand, and his vast knowledge of the darker magics that encompassed the world. The book that had given him the curse had been destroyed before he had left Rivenfelde, a final task that he saw to himself before the Yuurei had taken control of the city. That he had escaped such a massacre unharmed still puzzled him to this day, but it was a welcome path, considering the other path led into his dreams and inevitable death.

The months following, including The End, were a bit of a blur. He remembered going through some towns and working small jobs along the way to pay for food and supplies, but the faces of those he had met were unattainable. It wasn't something he wished to peruse, as it only led to that island of unimaginable pleasures. That place couldn't have truly existed, which made his decision that it was a dream all the easier. Regrettably, he did wish to himself silently that his dream self had spent a little more time in that dark room with the very willing young islander. Perhaps the next time he fell asleep, his dreams would award him with such visions.

Having sorted out his past, the young adventurer took it upon himself to continue to look to the future. His things from the night before had been packed, and he had continued down the road that was nearby. There had been only two choices for him to make once he had reached the plain dirt road, but for some inexplicable reason, he had immediately taken his turn to the right, and had since then kept walking. Without a map, he had no way of knowing exactly where he was going, and the need for a village of some sort became apparent quite quickly, as his remaining rations would only last until tonight.

It was mid-day before he came across any sort of definable marker to tell him where he was headed. Against the side of the road, just before a fork, stood a battered and weather-torn signpost. It pointed down the left fork, supplying the young man with the name of a nearby village and the distance to reach it. Thankfully, it was close enough that he would reach it before dusk. His stomach rumbled with the promise of a hot meal, and he was quick to re-secure his pack against his shoulders before moving down the left path.

[Nayt]

The old signpost pointed towards a town known only as "Sadovoui." It was only five miles away, a fair hike, one that would take only an hour and a half of walking, but at the end of that time and distance, there was the potential for a place to rest and warm, fresh food.

Down the road, though . . . confusion was almost guaranteed. A similar signpost pointed in the same direction, but had a completely different name: "Paraiso." There were no other routes to take, no forks in the road, just the same dirt path as before. It stated that there were four miles to go. Further on, at the three mile mark, a signpost reading "Alegria." At the two mile mark, "Tougenkyou." At the final mile to go, the sign was slightly more . . . recognizable. The name was, at least. "Eden, 1 mile." The actual town was still unseen, but a spec in the distance, atop one of those rolling, green covered hills, with higher elevation blocking the view of everything but the archway welcoming visitors suggested that it was, indeed, only a mile away.

The archway was blank where it was most important, though. There was no declaration of a town's name--there was no name at all. "Welcome to." That was all it read.

From the wooden archway, tall and wide enough that traders could come in with carts down the dirt road, the dirt road lead down the rolling green hill and down into a temporary basin. Scattered farms on either side of the dirt road--some with offshoots from the path leading out to their individual farm houses--benefited from irrigation from two nearby streams, and the amount of farmland lasted for a good few miles, all housed within that large basin, with scattered forestation between estates. The path twisted and turned accordingly, altered due to property issues--crops spilled into the path and it had to be adjusted. Amongst the farm houses and fields were some scattered businesses, a clinic, perhaps, or even a small market. Today, it didn't seem lively enough to tell, 'less one stood right in front of those shops and investigated from the outside--the doors, of course, being locked.

The basin ended with a long road leading up a large hill of exponential incline, on top of which seemed to be quite a collection of structures packed together, but until one peaked that hill, it would be altogether impossible to tell. The closer one got, though, the more voices one could hear--how many hundreds could there be? This held promise to be much larger of a town than what Baleron originally expected . .

[Baleron87]

Baleron's stomach growled angrily at him as he continued down the road toward the village. He had been keeping an eye out for the various signposts after the second one had appeared along the roadside, deliberating as he walked on what would compel a town to have various names. He didn't know if he liked being reminded of every long mile he walked with every checkpoint, but after the final mile marker, he imagined this village of "Sadraleggenen", a name he figured was easier to remember then all five in order, was going to be an interesting stop on his various locales he had visited.

As farms began to sprawl out among him, the sight of freshly grown crops made him eager to find the nearest inn or tavern, so that he might find himself a warm bite to eat after days of simple bread and rations. He was tempted to grab a quick snack from one of the nearby fields, but he talked himself out of it, if only to not be called a thief by any farmer that might be watching. The better standing he was in as a simple traveler, the more chance he had to find himself a job in the area to do a little work for money.

The road began to draw up to a large hill, and as he silently hiked up the path, the din of many voices was beginning to be heard from the nearby center of the village. It somehow amazed him that such an out of the way place would have so many people present, but for all he knew, it could have been just a simple gathering of the nearby farmers to do market with their produce. However, if all of the time he had spent as a traveler, in both this life and in his dreams, things certainly weren't always as simple as he would first think.

[Nayt]

Until he crested the hill, Baleron would see not a thing, not a structure nor a body--but the sound! The whole town was alive with cheers and joy, with such a rapturous sound that even the most melancholic of travelers would be compelled to speed up the ascent to find the source of this joy.

Over the hill lay the town: the rolling hills had come to an end for the sake of a long stretch of flat land and well kept dirt roads for wide streets between rows of quaint single story homes. Space was set between each home, yards were provided or claimed, an issue that may well have been the only dispute between citizens! Although a fairly large town set upon this elevated patch of earth, it was small enough that it seemed truly peaceful, at ease--

paradise?

--with their state of being. The farmers could ascend the hill to sell their goods and the townies could make their money banking or moving or building--or even small manufacturing; truthfully their options were quite endless! On the main wide road coming from the farmlands and cutting through the middle of town set a majority of the profitable shops, some two stories tall, some only a single story, and each with a sign in front declaring what wares were for sail. A blacksmith, a pub, a beautician, barber, clothing, printing--everything that a citizen in a small town could ever want. Jobs were plentiful, indeed. On the intersecting streets were the single story homes, slightly visible from the hill Baleron ascended. Oddly, the shops were not open.

From there, though, the sounds of pleasant times and merriment were simply that much more audible! On the first intersecting street of the main drag ran three children, difficult to see from Baleron's locale, but visible nonetheless. They ran not out of urgency but playfulness, one chasing the two others.

And down that street, a collection of citizens so vast that the entire collection of farmers and townies and every other niche this veritable close knit county had to fit must have been outside crowding the streets and cheering and laughing in jovial celebration all at once . . .

[Baleron87]

The sight that was laid out before Baleron was incredible. Any prior thoughts of this town being a simple farming community had all but disappeared. Such a gathering reminded him more of a celebration, and his knowledge of the area didn't encompass social events. Actually, even though he knew nothing of what was transpiring before him in this odd town, he was quite happy for it. Something like this, where many people from the surrounding areas would be present, would allow him to move about without seeming like a complete stranger. After all, the best place to hide was in plain sight, although why Baleron felt the need to hide at all was beyond him.

Still, he was more than slightly curious about what was going on today. He desperately worked his mind over what the date was, the region he was in, and if there was any sort of less subtle reason that a place that had experienced The End was so jovial only months after. When nothing came to mind, he turned to the more direct method. As he began to approach the gathered mass of people, he picked a person out from those heading to the event, tapping them lightly on the shoulder to gain their attention. "Hey. I was wondering what's going on here today. Maybe you could fill me in?"

[Nayt]

The man Baleron tapped on the shoulder was on his own, just a middle aged man of average height and weight for his age. He was a bit on the balding side, but he shaved well, and wore his best button up shirt and corduroy dress pants. Judging by his build, he most likely worked one of the less physically active jobs, but still supported himself--and a family, if he had one. Whether or not he had one, he was currently alone, moving along down the wide dirt road to where the majority of the crowd could be found.

He wasn't too surprised to hear someone asking about the celebration, though. It wasn't uncommon to get that question--he'd already been asked a few times today already! That bunch was just uninformed, but it wasn't a problem. This man certainly didn't mind it.

He turned to Baleron, smiling, and declared, "Well, lad, it's the one hundred year anniversary of our city! Down this street there are innumerable events to commemorate the anniversary of our town's founding."

Which would explain the lack of open shops, farmers with their crops, and the number of homes whose families were simply out--and relatively early in the afternoon, at that. Further down the street, the crowd was fairly dense, but it was possible to squeeze through, or just follow the flow of the crowd--one flow going down the street, the other up the street. It was an easy flow to get accustomed to.

"Food vendors and stalls up one side of the street and down the other with cuisines from all over the world, and at the end of the street, there's a community fair. Horse rides, games, and all the like," he continued. Baleron didn't seem like he was from around here, but that didn't mean he couldn't partake in the festivities!

[olive juice.]

Stupid celebration.
Stupid town.

She sat relatively still with a hand cupped beneath her chin as stared aimlessly into the crowd. She seemed obviously uninterested, but that was to be expected. Celestine was not one for this yearly 'birthday', in fact, she loathed it. Not necessarily due to its meaning, but rather towards the actual events that came to pass during its endless hours of revelry. She pursed her lips to allow a hollow breath to escape her throat, and turned from the window in her home. She had outright refused(again this year) to partake in any ridiculous assembly to honor the founding of this town. It was not that she did not respect her ancestors, but she blatantly was not one for the excitement of a place that seemed to hold her prisoner. For years had she felt as though they were overly protective of what they did not know, and therefore, held her like a criminal in jail from what lurked outside its region.

"Celestine, come on."

The voice came from a silhouette behind her, one that lurked in the doorway with a disappointed expression. Such a merry time it was, and his daughter spent most of her time here day dreaming.The man was her father, of course, and as usual this time every year, he was trying to coax her into joining the celebration. She did not move, as he had expected.

No.

"Celestine. Do it for me, at least. There is so much food and cheer."

His voice had become more pleading, but the young woman was unmoved. His form returned to the depths of the crowd, leaving her to her solitude once again. She turned, however, when he exited, and sighed to herself. For her father, always. Mumbling incoherently, she began to approach the festival, planning to at least escape momentarily during its events to her secret place. If she had to suffer for a few hours, it would be only right to reward herself.

Soon.

Whisked away into the crowd, she began to trudge through the streets with a quick pace, for she knew she'd either have to keep up or be lost within its wave. Bustling along with the families and their kin, she sharply turned to an alley, and suddenly took off into the woods. Though no one would particularly notice, or so she hoped, her silhouette jogged through the soft brush and into her sanctuary.

[Baleron87]

An anniversary celebration of the town... And its one-hundreth at that! Baleron couldn't help but smile at his luck. "From one party to the next..." He whispered quietly to himself, so as not to bring about questions from the man he had inquired. After all, the party in question had been one in his dreams, and to relate to him that the last party had ended with his death would probably have brought on more than just a confused response.

Still, the promise of good food and fun times definately made Baleron excited. With as much as was going on, though, he was at a bit of a loss as to where he would be able to drop off his heavy traveling supplies. Thankfully, the man hadn't quite started off toward the celebration just yet, and he hoped that one more question wouldn't annoy him. "I don't suppose you could tell me if any inns are still open for those traveling here from far away. It would be nice to have a place to spend the night after a long day of fun."

[Nayt]

The man wasn't bothered by it at all. Foreigners last year had asked a lot of questions, and this wasn't a time for stress or anything of the like--people didn't often feel any sort of discontent on this day, so why not have the patience to help educate a traveler?

He jovially motioned behind him. Currently they were on a street that intersected the main road of the town, perpendicular in two directions. Down the road behind them were a few more shops, but mainly houses--as most shops seemed to be on the main road--and a few structures that were a bit taller than the rest. While most homes had between one and three floors--economic standard depending--a couple of these had four or five floors. This didn't make them stand out much more than any of the others, but they had shop signs indicating that they were lodges, pubs, and the like. While a blacksmith was unlikely to be receiving orders for steel on a day like this, people were bound to seek out drinks, merriment, and places to lay their head down at night.

"There are a few popular--and fairly good!--inns down that way. I suggest the Paradigm Lodge. It's not all that big, but it's the finest quality inn and pub in town."

Just like last year, the crowd was intense--able to be dealt with, but intense nonetheless. It could be traveled; one just had to work with the flow of traffic rather than against it. Walking into a horde of people traveling the opposite direction was bound to end poorly, even on a day of merriment like today. Celestine had experienced it often enough, and seemingly navigated the traffic perfectly, passing into and through it as quickly as she could, and it worked. It worked wonders. She got out of the crowd, through an alleyway, and into the brush subtly enough to go unnoticed.

As it was, the town was on a large patch of elevation, with four large rural districts (distinct enough to potentially be their own individual towns!) to the north, south, east, and west. To the south there was a farming community and to the north the forest, which was generally scattered around the town, was thicker with a less gradual slope, and with good reason: those that lived there often preferred to keep to themselves. The trees here went uncut, and for anyone seeking out refuge from commotion and rapturous social disorder, it was the perfect place to go. It just took a little more work than usual to get back from . . .

[olive juice.]

Salvation!

The young woman was padding through the brush with ease, her feet having walked such a way many times. Though many tended to steer from the outskirt of town, Celestine enjoyed it. The trees were thick and untouched, the brushes full and adorned with wild flowers. To her, it was beautiful, peaceful, and most of all - different. She knew her father would be most disappointed with her, but at this exact moment, it didn't bother her. Another step and she was almost there. Her hands came outward to brush past the stray branches that had come to block her vision, and came to stop just outside a small independent clearing. It was small, it was uninhabited - save for the animals of the forest, and incredibly beautiful. A small stream was running through its center, the sunshine was billowing through the branches that hung like decorations within the area, and one single boulder lay astray to the stream's left. It seemed like a perfect hideaway.

It did not take Celestine long before she became acquainted with her sanctuary once more. Though the celebration would continue without her, she still felt remorse for not finding her own part within the entire event. Why did she long to escape? What was causing this feeling of rebellion? Sitting upon the boulder, she gazed into the stream, losing herself into nothing but endless dreams.

This was her paradise.

[Baleron87]

"The Paradigm Inn, you say? Sounds like quite a nice place indeed." Although Baleron was running short on coin, and his currency was what was still left from Rivenfelde. It was the last few pieces of gold he had recieved from Armand for his services as his bodyguard before the grand mage had left. He wasn't sure what the reaction from the innkeeper would be for money coming from so far away, but it was still gold, so he figured it wouldn't cause him too many problems.

With his more basic questions now answered, he figured he would begin with a quick trip to the inn and drop off his things before he would start wandering around the town. He gave a quiet nod and thankful smile to the old man that had taken some time to help him. "Thank you for all of your help. I hope you have a good day, and that you enjoy the celebration." He placed his hand to his heart, a common practice that had stayed with him since his guard duty days, before turning off toward where the man had directed him.

The crowd seemed to swallow him up as he began to work his way down the road, patiently allowing those in front of him to move before he continued along after them. He had never been in the middle of a group of people as large as this. The closest thing he had seen to it was the various gatherings for the former Queen of Xexoria, who he had seen before at various times but never talked to. The one time he could have talked with her, his nerves and position held him from getting to know her personally, even though at the time she seemed like she could have needed the advice. Thinking back, he realized that moment was the one where his dream had started. He couldn't help but breathe a quiet sigh of relief that he had never become involved with the half-demon queen, given how his dream had so abruptly ended.

After a few minutes of working through the mass of people, he found himself at the door to the Paradigm Inn, knowing it only by the quite well-kept sign that hung above the doorframe. Relaxing at having a short reprieve from the large gathering of people outside, he slowly opened the door and moved inside, side-stepping various small groups of revelers who had taken up positions in the main hallway until he was able to reach the bar. From there, he contented himself with watching the many patrons of the pub while he waited for the innkeeper to notice his presense.

[Nayt]

In the brush, a sigh and a laugh . . . "Heh. Looks like I'm not the only one who likes it out here."

As if he were originally hiding, the source of the voice voice stood up for a full and clear view. He had been knelt down behind brush thick enough to let him go unseen. Once he knew that he wasn't dealing with a threat--or someone specifically looking for him, he rose. It was pointless to hide, anyways; he'd have been found out eventually, creating a much more awkward scene.

The sight would be a familiar one: a tall man in his late twenties with short blond hair like a small matted down flame--perhaps lending to the deep maroon burn scar running down the left side of his face, from his ear, down the neck, and even to the shoulder--but he was clothed; only so much of the scar could be seen. The permanent damage to his body restricted a bit of hair growth; something that any self respecting man wouldn't have been pleased with. Every other time he had been seen, he'd been wearing outlandish styles of clothes, from leather jackets to intentionally torn up fashions that confused most who saw it. Today, though, he wore a pair of slacks and a button down shirt--matching the man he was seen with most often (although he was currently alone, besides Celestine).

Even out here with a complete stranger, he'd still be recognized. It was really pointless to try and mask himself--so he didn't, but at least tried not to let his "status" get in the way of anything. Serj Goiyer was one of the more valuable denizens of the town, if only because he was amongst the town militia, and with the town militia directly affiliated with the mayor, it was impossible for him to ever go unrecognized.

"I heard someone coming. Got me all paranoid, you know?"

There weren't all that many patrons within the Paradigm. It was still early and drinks were being served outside for a bit cheaper than within most of the pubs, taverns, and inns. The business was open, though, and amongst the few shops that weren't abandoned for the sake of the festivities.

Although the bar-side of the structure was only populated by a few, only one of them truly stood out. From Baleron's view, he'd see the young man wearing what seemed to be a button down slate gray shirt and well kept dark slacks. He set down a small stack of coins on the counter and stepped back. The youth--a boy; he couldn't be any older than sixteen or seventeen!--faced Baleron for only a moment, a split second that may well have felt like an eternity. Pure, pristine white shaded every inch of the youth's skin, drastically reducing the details on his skin that could be seen from afar--all those little imperfections like freckles, bumps, or body hair. Even his hair had a white tint; gray--or silver? There was a hint of both, despite his age. The obvious signs of albinism were even more clear when looking upon his eyes: they were a piercing crimson--and the smile upon his lips was one of true joy, despite what seemed to scars of shadows upon his powder white skin, dark scars splotched down his forehead and right cheek; a similarity he seemed to share with at least one other in the village. It wasn't a burn, though--the scar tissue was too rounded, but slender like blade wounds--perhaps! This, too, was permanently without detail, or at least visible detail from long range--just black on white.

"Excuse me," remarked the albino respectfully as he eased towards the side to avoid bumping into Baleron on his way to the door.

Getting a room wasn't difficult at all. Since most people here had their own houses and there was a shortage on travelers, taverns like this made most of their money on drinks, with spare rooms available for anyone who needed to shell out the money for them. This meant the rooms were a bit expensive, but there was no shortage of rooms, and Baleron only had to pay up front, and the room key was his: third floor, end of the hall--boasting a single a bed, large window, a nightstand, reading material, and an oil lamp if needed. It was a bit pricey, but the room was high quality, all things considered. It wasn't fit for a king, but one never found places like that in towns like this.

[olive juice.]

The voice startled her, but only for a moment. Once the figure showed itself, she was more at ease. He was most certainly recognizable, and she simply returned her gaze to the stream that trickled down the length of the clearing. It was Serj Goiyer, another one of the militia, though better dressed than any other time she had seen him in town. It seemed she could truly get no privacy anywhere, but didn't really show any disgruntled notions. She leaned forward to let her fingertips touch the surface of the stream, and turned to him once he spoke again. It was funny, his statement, and she couldn't help but be curious.

Paranoid? Of what?

She turned to face him more directly, her arms coming to wrap around her knees. It was ironic that he seemed to carry some type of.. fear. He especially, was not one that would ever be held in a negative reputation just for wandering to the stream. If anything, Celestine was more likely to get an earful from not only her father, but the mayor as well. Time and time again did she wander off into these forbidden woods, and each time came with a new punishment. A repeat offender, most definitely, but she cared little though, and still yearned to escape.

You're a hero for finding me, and forcing me to return to the town, didn't you know?

It was a dry and coarse statement but seemed the most logical to herself at the time. It would not be the first time that her captor returned her to the town and became renown for returning a poor 'lost' girl to her imprisonment. In ways, she felt like an outcast. All of the town loved their home, and here was Celestine, filled with sorrow and grief, dreaming of the day where she could wander free - like her brother.

What are you doing out here, anyway? Shouldn't you be celebrating?

[Nayt]

"No--no, I'm out here to get away from the noise."

Scolding perhaps from one of the mayor's associates, no doubt. The mayor himself, though . . . if it was a crime to feel joy in this town, then he would be the worst offender of them all. A repeat offender that never stopped--a constant feeling of serene rapture that no one person could ever break down. Some of his associates though . . . they could be a little much at times--the militiamen, that is. They weren't outright cruel, but if anyone doled out punishments, it was them, and it could only be assumed that they came from the mayor himself--but did they? It was a question worth considering for any person, as he never personally declared punishment for anyone.

Serj scratched the thin goatee that extended from the bottom of his lip to his chin--a thoughtful consideration of what Celestine was saying. He'd never brought her back to town for leaving; one of his associates, yes, but never him. In fact, he rarely did much of anything to anyone . . .

"The mayor is going to make an announcement here in a bit, but there's still some time," he shrugged his shoulders, "Wouldn't make any sense if I went back so soon."

[Baleron87]

Such new sights seemed to be in endless supply in this small town! Only in books had Baleron ever read of the rare condition in which a human would be born with pure white skin and red eyes. He was once capable of the latter, but it was from dark magic, and not from simply being born as such. Of course, he was sure to make sure not to overly stare at the young man who passed by him, partly out of common courtesy of him being a fellow human, but mostly out of understanding of how physical differences affected the views that most people had on those that did not ask for such afflictions. He offered a polite nod in response to the man's apology, and then turned his attention back to the bar as he waited for the attention of the innkeeper.

Thankfully, he did not have to wait long for that attention, and the transaction between them went quickly. He soon found himself up in the quaint little room, surveying his temporary lodgings with a satisfactory sigh. Still, the din of the crowd outside beckoned heavily to him, and he was quick to drop his bag and heavier traveling gear off along the side of the bed. Out of necessity, he kept his sword on his belt, but he removed the leather armor he had been wearing and sorted it properly, leaving himself in only a black shirt and pants, along with his simple traveling boots. It felt quite comforting to remove most of the heavy garb, and he couldn't help but stretch out his somewhat sore muscles before quickly leaving back through the doorway and heading downstairs and out toward the street.

Once back within the crowd, he managed to move in tandem with the townspeople and visitors toward the various stalls that sold various treats. Although more in the mood for a warm meal he could sit down and enjoy, he made sure to gather to him a few tasty snacks with another one of his gold coins, thanking the vendor happily before continuing on along with the movement of the crowd. He situated his load of goodies in his arms so that one was free to bring the food to his lips, but he soon found it quite cumbersome to actually enjoy them as he walked, as the section of town he was in was especially packed, and there was little room to move his arms at all.

Becoming somewhat frustrated, he took the first chance he was presented and ducked down a small passage between the buildings, strolling on towards the nearby forest while chowing down. The party was most certainly going to be continuing by the time he finished, so he imagined he would be able to enjoy the festivities then. He certainly hoped that the descent of the sun would bring all of the true revelers out of their hiding places, as he was in the mood for a good time with fine ale. Of course, a pretty lass would be a wonderful addition to that list, but he was willing to take things one step at a time. And with every step he took, he drew himself further and further into the deep, dense forest.