Kjan made a noise that was somewhere between a scoff and a barely-stifled laugh. "Hardly," he replied. "You insult our new friend. The Phaerin I recall was far more reckless and far less...how shall we say...intelligent, than our favorite young noble. Sir Jate, here, would at least never lead me into a pitch-black, slime-ridden cave full of slugs, or into an abandonned mine, or expect me to cross a raging river on a rope barely thick enough to support one man, much less two. I'm still not sure I've entirely forgiven Phaerin for this, you know." He reached up to finger the scar over his left eye, only to immediately wince and pull his hand away as he recalled that it coincided almost perfectly with the place on which Dante had chosen to bestow his...affections. "Anyway, don't listen to him, Jate. His memory of young Phaerin has obviously become distorted over the years."

Jate coughed a laugh at the dry tone of Kjan's voice. Apparently, some things were just better left unsaid. A small glow warmed him as he thought of Kjan's words. Intelligent? He, who managed to get captured by the rebels? Not quite, but he couldn't deny that the compliment was appreciated.

"Well, a cave full of slugs may not be my style, but I can't say that one full of bats is out of the question..." Jate murmured with a small smile. "And of course I would never make you cross a raging river with a rope. Why bother with the rope? Swimming out to be good enough." Jate lauged outright at the look on the other's face.

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going on a journey through my old claims

"Ungrateful whelp," Kjan muttered, feigning offense. "And to think, all this time I've been sticking up for you. Should've let him stick you in a cage; it would've served you right. Then you never would have gotten to go on this lovely excursion with us, and you would have missed the lovely view." He made a discreet gesture toward the ladies walking behind them before adding, "And the scenery's quite nice, too."


Silvryn was even less enthused, if that was possible, than Eledhe about crossing the river. She, too, was trailing behind, though her reasoning had more to do with the fact that she'd barely slept the night before and had nothing to contribute to the conversation going on at the front of the group anyway. "I do hope you're not planning on using that any time soon," she commented lightly without so much as glancing in Eledhe's direction, though it was evident that she meant the blade that had made its way into the mercenary's hand.

"Ungrateful whelp," Kjan muttered, feigning offense. "And to think, all this time I've been sticking up for you. Should've let him stick you in a cage; it would've served you right. Then you never would have gotten to go on this lovely excursion with us, and you would have missed the lovely view." He made a discreet gesture toward the ladies walking behind them before adding, "And the scenery's quite nice, too."


Silvryn was even less enthused, if that was possible, than Eledhe about crossing the river. She, too, was trailing behind, though her reasoning had more to do with the fact that she'd barely slept the night before and had nothing to contribute to the conversation going on at the front of the group anyway. "I do hope you're not planning on using that any time soon," she commented lightly without so much as glancing in Eledhe's direction, though it was evident that she meant the blade that had made its way into the mercenary's hand.

The Phantom raised one eyebrow fractionally, in an attitude of mild amusement. "I hope all you're doing is enjoying the view of our resident shuriken-equipped mercenary," he commented, deadpan. "I'd be worried for your health otherwise." No comment was made, of course, on the second half of the mentioned 'lovely view'. A glance over his shoulder directed the next comment at Jate. "I don't believe that Phaerin ever stumbled upon a cave full of bats. I should mention it to him if I happen to ever renew our acquaintance."


"Only if it's needed," returned Eledhe, a response made not entirely reassuring by the vague undertone of her voice. 'Need' as a concept differed between personalities, she reflected, but did not voice aloud. Petty banter was all very well, among the type of personality Phantom Grey attracted, but it distracted from other and rather more important matters. Odd, how one could be a snob among those who were almost unanimously of higher social standing than oneself. She twirled the star recklessly.

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"I do wonder, on occasion, what's become of him," Kjan replied contemplatively, his gaze flickering briefly toward the surrounding trees, then back. "At least I had fun putting my life in danger with him." There it was again- movement off to their right. He caught the Phantom's eye and indicated the spot where he'd last heard the noise. Then, without so much as a slight shift in expression to suggest that something was amiss, he resumed their casual conversation. "Anyway, I never said to which of our lovely ladies I was referring."

If possible the Phantom's easy loping gait grew more casual, giving a false impression of careless confidence. He folded his arms across his chest, which conveniently positioned his sword hand very close to the hilt of his weapon, and shrugged nonchalantly. Which also accomplished the purpose of pushing his cloak out of the way, should he need to make a speedy defense. "Phaerin was a rather reckless fellow, as I remember," he commented lightly to Kjan. "By rights you should have just as much fun with me as you did with him."

Eledhe was already scanning the thick brush, toying aimlessly with her black braid as if bored. Only the Phantom knew just how fast she could whip out the tiny dagger concealed there. A twig cracked suddenly and her steps faltered just for the barest second; long enough to loosen her scimitar in its sheath.

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White. Fluffy and stinging white. Cold white. Lots of white. Everywhere. Beyond any doubt, the snow drift that he was currently extracting himself had ambushed him. It most certainly had caused a tree branch to clear all of the snow off of itself as he passed underneath, which caused him to trip, and then the snowdrift pounced on him.

Pulling his head out, finally, Ayden sniffed, loudly. It wasn't that he was indignant about meeting the snowdrift, it was merely that the contents of his nose were running away. Hence the sniff.

Ever since he had left his impromptu camp that morning, things had gone amiss. He had tripped earlier when a tree root shoved itself in front of him while he wasn't watching, and his pack had decided to release some of his lovely supplies. Now he had no frying pan, no dried meat, and no more bowstrings. If his current one frayed through, he would have to be far more wary about the wolves that haunted this area.

Then he had cut his finger trying to whittle on a staff as he walked. In five years he hadn't cut his finger, and it had to happen then, of all times. He sighed. Really, though, the worst thing was that he missed home. In a way. Ever since he had been old enough to realize that his 'siblings' all had markedly different complexions than he did, he hadn't been able to reach the same level of closeness that he had enjoyed before that. He still missed them, though. Home was far more enjoyable than his present conditions.

Shaking the snow off of himself with another sigh, he floundered on through the snow. At least it seemed to be getting shallower.

He reached a thicket. And glared. It was quite a long thicket, as thickets go, but it didn't look very wide. Still, it was in his way, and he knew it would do its very best to scratch or catch him as he went through.

Ducking his head and holding an arm in front of it to shield his eyes, he pushed through the thicket, stomping on that which wouldn't yield until it bent, or just pushing aside that which did bend.

Reaching the other side, he straightened--and stiffened in alarm. Of all the things that he had been dreading, travelers weren't it. Wolves were it; however, the term wolf could also apply to men. Or women, he amended as he noticed the two women in the group of people.

"Good morrow," he said faintly, wondering if it was too late to bolt for safety, and simultaneously wondering what their nature was.

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"Good morrow," returned the Phantom, relaxing. He wondered with a detached sort of air if they'd have any more strangers pop suddenly out of bushes that day. With any luck, they could pass by this one without having their identities discovered. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Silvryn was unobtrusively attempting to keep her face hidden, knowing she would be recognized.

The fellow looked a bit intimidated. Eledhe's half-drawn scimitar probably wasn't helping. The Phantom shot her a look and held out his hand, seeing no reason not to be somewhat welcoming despite the need for caution. And no reason not to reuse his previous alias. "Ardan Merrell."

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Ayden half-sagged with relief. They weren't going to rob him. The reason he only sagged halfway was that they might plan to rob him later, when he was unsuspecting. Still, later was not now. And now was when he was happy to be living, with prospects of more life in his immediate future.

"Ardan Merrell."

The words jolted Ayden. He hadn't expected someone to introduce themself.

"Uh, Ayden," he returned. "Ayden Mandar." It was true...to a point. It was true to the legal extent of what he knew, though what his rightful name was, he had not been blessed with knowing.

"Might I ask what you're doing out here, so far from the road?" Ayden asked Merrell. By all rights, nobody else should be so far off the road. The odds of him running into them seemed vastly small. Who could have good intentions if they avoided the road in such a way?

Of course, there was always the chance that their purpose was as innocent as his, but so many? He doubted it.

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Kjan disliked psuedonyms. Hated them, really. They caused far too much confusion. Not only were they hard to think up in the first place, but they were even harder to remember. By the time one came up with a suitable name, remembered to answer to said name every time, and remembered to call others by their respective 'names', it probably would have taken less brain power to simply give one's real name, get caught, and think up a way to avoid capture. It'd taken him almost six months to get used to calling Phaerin 'Phantom' (which was actually a fairly short time considering he'd spent twenty-eight years calling him Phaerin), and now he was expected to remember 'Ardan'?

"He has a debilitating phobia of open spaces," he said in response to the stranger's query. "And efficiency. Has to do everything the hard way. It's tragic, really." He pulled a sympathetic face before seeming to realize that he hadn't given a name. "Kjan," he said, abruptly extending a hand. Hah, no pseudonyms for him. Gesturing over his shoulder toward Eledhe, he added, "That's Sunshine. She likes meeting new people."

Jate snorted at Kjan's introduction of Eledhe. Sunshine? The man certainly had a way with words. Jate examined the newcomer, eventually coming to the conclusion that he'd never set eyes on him before. Mandar...nope, never heard the name. Well, he might as well introduce himself too, as there seemed to be no reason not to. Perhaps Mandar had heard of his family before...?

"Jateyani Ralkaien," he said, keeping his arms crossed and still a half a pace behind the others.

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going on a journey through my old claims

Eledhe shot Kjan a look that could have accompanied the word 'homicidal' in a dictionary. It didn't do a whole lot for one's credibility to be introduced as 'Sunshine'. Her scimitar, which had been almost sheathed, came out a few inches. However, she did possess more self-control than that...though, as she communicated with another look, he could fully expect retribution later. She folded her arms, expression impassive, fiddling impatiently with the hilt of her scimitar, and echoed the Phantom's thought unwittingly - how many more strangers would they pull out of bushes today?

"To the contrary," the Phantom was saying, "we're headed toward Kingfisher pass. Our guide here would be happy to give you instructions to wherever you're going." He indicated Dante.

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Ayden blinked, mind in a whirl. Debilitating phobia? Efficiency? Sunshine? He hardly knew them enough to contradict them, but if that woman was sunshine, then his shadow was a candleflame, at least to all appearances.

He squeaked as she bared several inches of her scimitar. Swords. Weapons! He could handle them well enough, since he had been required to learn, but they frightened and disgusted him. Warfare was merely a problematic necessity, and not one which a person needed to get accustomed to. Just accustomed to enough to avoid getting hurt.

"It--it's nice to meet you," he said, his sentence interrupted by a gulp.

Wait--Kingfisher Pass? He managed to suppress his groan, but he felt like sicking up. What were the odds!?!

"I too am going to the pass," he said with a sigh. He was never going to forgive Jaer for daring him to a race--cross-country against following the road. And of course, Jaer had definitely tricked him into picking the short straw, somehow. The one that signified cross-country.

"But you have a full party, so I'll just get a move on now, then," Ayden said, starting to flounder through the snow in the direction of the pass, and hoping to get well ahead of the strangers.

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The Phantom bowed courteously, relieved somewhat that he didn't have to contrive a reason not to travel with. Under other circumstances, he would not have been averse to traveling with Ayden for the small distance to the Pass, but secrecy was hard to maintain when every questionable acquaintance one met was liable to give out delicate information about one. "I wish you a safe journey to the Pass, then."

[hope you don't mind, Reindeer]Over the next few hours, Ayden and the Phantom's small party stayed roughly in the same area. Being alone, the young man traveled somewhat faster, but most with the Phantom were seasoned travelers - and their haste was augmented somewhat by gathering dark clouds on the horizon.

The Phantom stopped to shade his eyes with a hand. Through overcast clouds, the sun was sinking westward, and with its descent came the encroaching edge of what looked an intimidating storm. Glancing behind him, he quickened his pace. There was no nearby shelter - the river was cutting a path in between mountains that was littered with sparse foliage and little more - but if they could make it to the entrance of the Pass before dark, that would at least be something. The unfortunate failure of the rope idea was proving an annoyance; if it had succeeded, they could have conceivably reached and even be a ways into crossing through Kingfisher Pass. The Phantom scowled once, and resumed scanning the river.

At one point, the valley widened somewhat, and there was a sheltered stand of pine trees. He halted momentarily, interested, but the idea of haltiing vanished when he noticed another helpful trait of the area. Where the valley widened, the river narrowed somewhat, condensing into a frothy rush of rock-interspersed rapids banked on either side by sheer stone. Across it stretched the fallen trunk of what had once been a spectacularly large pine tree.

Eledhe, as interested as any of them at the prospect of a shortcut, leapt nimbly up onto the trunk and tested it, stepping a little ways out over the river. "Seems stable," she commented over her shoulder, Elven agility granting her ease on the narrow passage and seeming unconcern over the formidably quick-flowing river below. The Phantom eyed its profusion of sharp rocks with some wariness, and went forward after her to test the log himself. Eledhe was already in the middle, testing every footstep as she went, and it seemed solid enough; but she was lighter than most.

"Hope none of you have an especial fear of walking over a raging river on a log," he quipped.

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Kjan considered pointing out that he was rather averse to crossing any flowing body of water at the moment - his boots were still making a lovely squelching sound every time he stepped, though his toes were too numb to really register this sensation - but judging by the Phantom's expression, he'd be coerced into crossing sooner or later, so he might as well get it over with before Dante got the idea to try to cross at the same time again.

Waiting until both Eledhe and the Phantom were safely across, Kjan took one tentative step onto the log, then crossed in one quick burst, refusing to look at anything but the other side. Stepping down to dry land with questionable grace, he let out a short breath of relief - still relatively dry.

"Next potential victim?" he called across cheerfully.