In contrast to the recommendation regarding sleep of the experienced hunter, turned to noodly puddle of mewling womanhood beneath the powers of his hands, they did not return to their blankets that night. Instead, they passed the night discussing more the prospective plan Ulric had for trying to get those ships by an exchange of prisoners. Or rather, a prisoner, given that between Taipan's poison bomb, Mage Brodin sucker punching the mage cadre while they were still half dead from the lingering toxicity, and Ulric finishing off the remaining men, only the Captain still lived.
When they weren't hashing out kinks to the scheme to coerce the ruling powers of Kistalfer to come to the table for negotiating in good faith, they were cuddling, flirting, and playing games of skill with knives. It was a fairly typical example of Iriel'en pair bonding, and Ulric appreciated the hand eye coordination involved in it, along with the various competitive bragging rights earned. Not by him, of course, but one day he'd be able to...well, lose by less of a margin, Taipan must have been playing with knives in the womb or something. Anyhow!
The Captain in the corner they ignored, she might as well have been a rolled up rug for all the attention she merited. Now that Ulric didn't have to worry about some creeper sneaking up and drinking her blood through the night, leaving her alive to serve his purposes, he couldn't care less about her. By the Captain's muffled curses, shouts, and complaints, she did not much find the carrying on through the night to her liking.
So it was, when the Twins rose, Ulric had not slept but nevertheless felt invigorated. His reforged body took sleepless nights far better than in the Before. Not to say he loved not sleeping, but he could do it and function perfectly well for a few days. He tended to either wax goofy or become a grouchy sonofabitch by the second or third day though, so it wasn't something to make habit of. Last night had been somewhat stressful, but spending the witching hours rubbing down the velvet over steel that was his wife's body, minus those exceptionally squishy bits, did wonders for his attitudes.
They had a plan. That alone made him feel far more confident in prospects for the future. Varda liked to kick his plans in the balls and make off with their purse but it still helped to have some general guidelines to fly by. He hated that out of control feeling of simply responding to life, racing from fire to fire to put them out before they became a conflagration that would consume his hopes for the future. For a former control freak, Ulric had come a long way in learning to go with the flow, to play along with the extemporaneous Jazz session that was Vardan life. That didn't mean his engineer's training and OCD tendencies didn't stop trying to impose order on the chaos around him, just that he grew less aggravated when those efforts inevitably failed, either whole or in part.
Ulric stood in the morning light, Twins scattering their dazzling light through the foliage of the coastal forest, in another one of those displays that made him grateful to have died. Smelling the loamy, sandy soiled dirt, the organic detritus, plant smells from all the undergrowth, and the distinct odors of the varieties of trees, eucalyptus oils, resiny pine smells, bitter tannins, it all combine to create an olfactory wonderland. Bared toes clenched, digging into the substrate, reveling in the post dawn cool of the ground. Sea breeze gusted lightly and the whispy cirrus, streaking white on infinite blue above promised rain anon.
Gods he loved this fucking world.
"Ulric Glade Chief, you are still naked." Reminded his Shadow gently, from the entryway to their shelter.
So he was. He'd forgotten to clothe himself in his eagerness to greet the day.
"Eh. Let them look, my love, for I am glorious this fine day." Ulric replied, unbothered by his bare skin.
An amused chuckle behind him preceded his partner coming to stand by his side. Taipan too was wearing only her birthing attire. They made quite a pair, the reforged human with his lightning scars, rippling musculature, and sturdy frame, accompanied by the lithe athletic femininity of the Iriel'en Huntress, that perfect combination of soft curve and toned, wiry limbs.
They took in the rising light of the Twins and enjoyed spring's idyllic splendour, standing hand in hand for an uncounted moment.
"Are we supposed to be able to get anything done around camp with those two basking in their skins?" Asked one of the Elf men about to begin readying breakfast, the cooking knife held easily and one eye covered by an eye patch, staring with the other at the Lord and his Lady unabashedly.
"Shut up, Idiot, you might spook them! I'm enjoying the view!" Cried another, being certain to pretend hushed tones at a volume easily heard from thirty meters away.
A Celestin woman peeled off her shirt and flung her pants aside in show of solidarity with her benefactors.
"Ahh! Now that's the stuff! A rousing wind across the cheeks and the Twins' light for contrast. Our Lord has a taste for the sweetness of life!" The Elf declared to her ring, and they joined her in a sky bath..
Several more followed that example. Soon enough, most of the camp was in varying states of undress and Ulric wasn't certain, but it would appear he had founded a nudist colony.
About that time, the general bustle of camp chores and rising daylight roused the Prespangers from their blankets, those who were used to waking past the rising of the suns for their tasks. They beheld a scene from some sort of barroom brag, hundreds of naked Elves sunning themselves under the open sky.
After a few shared glances and more than a few nonchalant shrugs, the Beastkin shed their garments in solidarity with their comrades in nature, not being entirely keen on the idea of full body clothing in the first place. The rest of the Prespangers awkwardly started going about their business or, some few, joined the rest in observance of the strange traditions of their hosts.
Ulric enjoyed some more the golden rays of the Twins and the refreshing air, alongside the comforting presence at his side. That is, until a naked Brodin and his Leor woman, also in the finely furred buff, marched up and presented themselves as supplicants to the whims of the DMV clerk, ready to receive what mercy they might.
"Greetings, Lord Ulric, I did not know the customs of your people included wind baths but it is surprisingly pleasant, if a small bit disconcerting." The young man confessed, before continuing on gamely, trying not to stare at either Ulric or Taipan, "We would make ourselves available to be of service, in whatever way we might."
"Ummm…we were simply wandering if this place is to become a more permanent encampment or if it merely serves for the moment." Ventured Chrissa, trying not to ogle openly as she soldiered on, "My Brodin wishes to weave the trees around this place into a Greenwall, to better repel the beasts or any who should seek to bring trouble."
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She was completely besotted with her Brodin, but that didn't mean she had gone blind. As fine a rump as had ever graced a man was before her, and she wasn't certain if she'd ever recover totally her confidence after being witness to the full glory of her liege's mate.
For a moment, Ulric had to think that one over. It wasn't a bad idea, not at all. Even better, the tree weaving mage could do it without killing the flora, which appealed greatly to his sensibilities. Ulric certainly acknowledged the need to acquire lumber and create more robust shelters, but he didn't like damaging the woodland any more than necessary. This was a fine alternative, in his eyes.
"Thank you, Chrissa, Brodin, for bringing this to my attention," Ulric told them warmly, glad that somebody was thinking with their dipsticks, to employ an anachronism from the distant past of his world referring to quick thinking, "This is as good a place as any to hold out, and your suggestion is a fine one. I am grateful to you Adept Brodin for your efforts to secure our defenses and improve the lot for these peoples."
He was being formal, partly because he wasn't entirely comfortable with being anybody's lord and didn't know how to behave under those circumstances, and partly because Taipan was dragging her hand down slowly from his lower back to cup his left butt cheek. Minx.
The black-hearted savage herself offered a melodic and entirely decorous, "Your services are entirely accepted, with my Lord's thanks. Please, break your fast in your own time and be not rushed to labor. The days lengthen and we will meet our needs with hours to spare."
Her slow spreading smile turned to a pout when he caught her hand and held it to his chest, out of harm's way. The pair of attendees had the grace to ignore their lady's pouting discomfit at being caught.
No objection did Ulric have for the enjoyment his mate found in his body, but being diddled in front of a live audience was altogether separate from being unconcerned about been seen. There were some things that were simply undignified.
Now that the day was on in full and the camp was fully roused, Ulric supposed it was about time to dress and start putting balls into the air. He'd taught himself to juggle in the glade, for fun and to test his new reflexes. The mental juggling to balance events current was far more challenging. That made success in the doing proportionally more satisfying. If only he managed to make this thing come off properly.
When he strode into the pair's teepee to don his gear, the rest of the colony followed suit and collective sighs of gratitude rose from the more conservatively minded of the camp. What tortuous paths his life led him down.
Thin woolen undergarments, akin to tights or hose, went on first, then the heavy, durable canvas pants. Ulric pulled on the thinner of the robes he had, buckling his belt to hold pants and flaring waist of the robe tight, and Xef'tocht's sheathe he pulled over his shoulder, securing the great sword to his back. Then he pulled on the thick woolen socks and stomped his feet into his calf height boots, boots that were a touch on the ragged and floppy side, the leather thoroughly abused by thousands of kilometers having passed under them, through whatever terrain Varda had to offer between Iriel and the Vatyn.
Ulric hadn't shaved in a few days so he was starting to beard thickly, full on chin, cheeks, and jawline. His white hair had grown out into a wild tangle that just barely didn't get into his eyes. He'd need to shear it off short again soon.
Taipan reached readiness about the same time that he did, her tall boots terminating at mid thigh, hugging closely to the athletic legs beneath, sturdy pants flaring out before being gathered narrowly to her waist by the complex arrangement of knife sheath, leather pouches, and belt that made up her Hunter's kit. The quiver for Blinder hugged her back, high between the shoulders to make a quick over the shoulder grasp for arrows without interfering with her belted knife, poison vials, or other oddities carried around her hips. Her bow was strung and the new [Direhorn Ox] sinew string pinched the fabric of her grey-green coat, even that light draw creating significant tension from the powerful composite laminated recurve stave.
Attired for the duties that awaited, Ulric left the shelter, his Shadow clinging as her position suggested.
Almost as an afterthought, Ulric turned back into the teepee, rummaging around a moment before coming back out with the bound Captain, dragging her by her feet from the remnants of the woven rope by which Taipan had hung her from a tree branch. The gag must have gotten worked loose because a stream of invective suddenly pressed against his back.
"You savage fuckers! You will all burn when Prosper sends her arms to cleans this traitor's nest! That Brownie wench will serve her betters for centuries, then we shall see how gladly she wiggles her rump, and how eagerly she barks when her masters call! You will pay for laying hands to a Praetorian's body, you knife earred bitch!"
Ulric looked back to his wife who made a hand sign that wryly said "This one is dissatisfied" before crouching over the prisoner.
He was a bit surprised that less of the tirade was directly towards him personally, given that he'd been directly responsible for removing her arm, crippling her hand, and the vicious wounds across her body. All of that paled, so far as he could see, to the pain and indignities visited on her by his Iriel'en partner. The race hate was strong in this one. Perhaps it was her pride that was wounded, at having been so easily broken by Taipan's questioning.
At attempt at biting was rewarded by an elf fist breaking the Captain's nose and knocking her unconscious, before the gag was reset.
"Thanks lass, that was noisy." Was Ulric's only commentary on the whole thing.
He was coming to terms with the intensely hateful and prejudiced attitudes of the more fanatical elements of Prespang's ruling Valin classes or those entrenched in the indoctrination of Prosper. They must take this stuff in with Mother's milk.
It all smacked of a careful societal engineering designed to alienate and dehumanize the Elves, to make it easier to commit atrocities. Ulric had read once, long ago, that a problem had existed amongst the soldiers in the Pre-Collapse wars in which they would refuse to aim their weapons directly at the enemy personnel shooting around them and wasting ammunition while appearing to fight. It took a drastic overhaul in combat training to remove those reservations from green troops, to convince them to intentionally take the lives of the enemy combatants. Sounds like the Merchant Lords were ahead of the game on that score.
Resuming a stately course through the camp, baggage in tow, letting his eyes drift over the hustle and bustle of fortifying the camp. The new folk were industrious, Ulric had to give that to them. They were also losing their reservations at being surrounded by those people who were their historical and present enemy. Ulric had to wonder how much of that was a result of seeing the Elves unclothed and the evidence of the horrors visited on them by Prespang's own hands. That kind of vulnerability couldn't have been easy for the normally proud Aes'r and Ulric was suddenly finding his respect for their strength of will deepened. His Elves were not weak, that was for certain.
His Elves? That had happened fast.
*PING*
An eyebrow twitched at the notification, the Akashic record having changed in some important way before sending that shivering indication through his being.
image [https://imgur.com/LWgBUAv.png]
A new title! The first in a long, long time, and with a fairly significant boost to those creepy fucking status things. But why?
Hmm...probably because he had finally accepted his lot as official guardian of his tagalongs. Apparently, it was a significant enough decision to warrant official notice in the Akashic, and a slight lift to his personal strength. Not that he had any certainty toward the stranger parts of Varda's odd rules. Maybe taking these people in represented a major shift in the lay of Varda's web of interconnected histories. Ulric shouldn't have had to have that spelled out for him, but the notification sort of did just that. He was the defacto guardian of the treasured grove memorial of the First Race, and, now, he also had a people that would dwell under his protection. Maybe they would eventually colonize the entire [Plateau of Ancients].
Ulric had a hard time imagining anyone would ever tame the insane Greater Beast Thunderdome that was the Canopy of the [Forest of the Forgotten] but stranger things were possible.
He must have sighed, he suddenly felt a probing digit poking him from behind, insistently jabbing into the meat of his shoulder blade until he responded.
"Will you stop tenderizing me by the fractions woman?!" He demanded of the grinning harpy behind him.
"You are too receiving of the All Knowledge a new title? Yes?" Questioned his partner, her features radiating smugness and the viridian flecked with bronze eyes narrowed with suppressed humor.
"Maybe, why?" Ulric returned, now suspicious.
Her poking and that look in her eyes indicated that she was enjoying herself at his expense. That in itself was not so unusual, but the timing was impossible coincidence. Wait, did she say "you too?"
"Spill it Taipan, what has changed for you?" Ulric probed, now intensely curious as to how a ripple effect of this Akashic horseshit might occur.
He had his hypothesis that there was a quantum entanglement of some kind going on involving mana acting as a common link between all the biotic and abiotic features of Varda. Perhaps the Watcher acted as an arbitrator or system moderator of some kind, imposing rules on the whole network.
"You first, Glade Chief, it is you that has set this into motion." Teased the almost skip stepping Elf behind him.
"Fiiiine." Huffed the disgruntled man, he wanted to have the information so he could try to find some connection, some logic to this whole thing, but he knew Taipan would stonewall him effectively, dragging this out because she had his curious nature pegged.
He explained the title, its flavor text, and the bonuses to his stats. None of these things made him happy. Imagine, just for a moment, if you were actually a believer in a higher power and that higher power leaned over your shoulder and said "Good going, I increased your bench by five kilos". That's what it felt like. Having come into contact with some of the superlative existences of this world, Ulric Einar, a devout atheist in his former life, was not thrilled to have higher powers taking interest in him or the quantum foam popping around his very toes while walking around this joint. Magic was a fascinating puzzle to solve, like discovering electricity. Akashic shit just made his skin crawl.