Rebuilding and Defending (Open)

[Ophelia]

Ophelia panicked.

Her emotions had already been running high as she struggled against the confines of the situation she found herself trapped in, completely out of her element and unsure how to adapt, but she had tried to find her way by thinking of Vardrache as the one she was supposed to protect and aid for the time being. Not as an actual master, perhaps. Not as Master, certainly. But it had been a line of thinking she could understand and taken refuge in. Familiar. Easy.

But when the man attacked Vardrache, all of that just... disappeared. Evaporated into thin air. Her already strained emotions frayed and snapped into a holocaust of fear and anger and raw unrelenting fury that consumed her whole, wresting control of her mind and body away from the quiet little girl and illuminated the guard dog usually held in check. The grief-stricken horror was still on her face, as much as what had happened as the knowledge of what was about to happen, as one manacled arm raised into the air, her chains jingling as they never did - no need for silence now - her upraised, open palm spasmed for only the briefest moment before a meter-wide magic circle erupted to life about it in sickly purple hues, the intricate detail coursing through it difficult to see from that angle.

But it was not so hard to see the three nearly identical circles appear, flanking the hatchet-wielding man from both sides and behind, each only about a foot across and difficult to place one's eyes on from the pulsing maelstrom of raw Arcane energy emanating from them. She closed her hand into a fist, and in the same instant that the circle above her pulsed, a line of unrelenting force spewed out of all three simultaneously, not bursts so much as sustained torrent that screamed and crackled through the air towards their victim. If she had been thinking more clearly, she would have regulated her power lower, or better yet NOT used the magic that was fueled by her emotions in such a moment, but well, Ophelia was not quite in her best state of mind right now, and the triple blast would quite literally evaporate the villager instantly.

[Vardrache]

It was funny. Vardrache's logic had always been “I'm stronger, so I can take more.” He didn't want to hurt anybody, ideally, and yet it was the great power that he possessed that allowed him to do so. Even now, with much of his power sealed away, he could still use his body as a shield. As something to absorb the rage and depression of who was likely an otherwise innocent man. Some could call it noble, in fact some had, but Vardrache had never seen it that way.

Especially in a case like this. He was acting as a shield against a man whose best efforts barely left a scratch on Vardrache's body. So he had been entirely prepared to accept the brunt of his anger. Perhaps when he tired himself out him, and by proxy the rest of his kin, would listen to reason. A proper discussion could be had, and they could all come to a conclusion.

However Vardrache...felt something strange. Before the man's first blow could come down on him. The very air around him seemed to stifle and tighten. It became heavier. Next he heard it, the gentle clinking of metal on the wind. Vardrache's closed eyes shot open and he saw Ophelia, wide eyed with shock and...rage...as she produced a magic circle. No...three magic circles?!

“What the hell?!” The man paused his attack, but it was too late. His head turned around to face Ophelia, but it was far too late for him. The circles, no, gates, had opened, and a rush of raw magic ripped their way towards him. The man's eyes went wide, while Vardrache's narrowed.

He didn't spare a single thought. He stepped forward and carefully shoved the human out of the way. With enough force to safely remove him from the range of the oncoming attack. The man went flying backwards a good ten, no, fifteen feet, his weapon spiraling out of his grip to land in the snow with a muffled thud. Unfortunately Vardrache was not fast enough to move himself out of the way, or even fully brace himself. All he could do was grit his teeth and face the magic that screamed his way.

The collision hit with a resounding “boom”. The force behind the three beams was enough to force Vardrache flying backwards. He a scream of shock and pain was forced from his throat. Gods how it hurt. The magic burned at his flesh, digging in beneath his skin and aggravating the cursed seal in his torso, amplifying the pain even further. The seal glowed in response as Vardrache fell to the ground, smoke rising as his tough flesh burned against the raw power of Ophelia's magic.

“Vardrache!” Rolf roared before he hurried over to the Vardrache's side. Even though he gave up his position between the village gate and the vagabonds, not a single one of them made a move towards it. The other villagers barred the path as well, but both groups had their eyes fixed on either Ophelia or Vardrache. “Vardrache! Are you all right?!”

The dragon's jacket and cape were burned. Not completely destroyed, but chunks had certainly been eaten through, notable the front of his jacket, which left his bare chest exposed. His chest had suffered quite the wound, stained red and black, blood dried from the pressure and heat behind Ophelia's magic. Vardrache himself was conscious. He'd been through worse pain before, but...he had certainly not expected this. Not from Ophelia, at any rate. Ancestors...he wasn't sure how many hits like that he could take. He felt weakened, drained, and the pain continued to throb throughout his entire being. Especially his chest.

“Th-that...that little girl is a witch!” One of the villagers pointed out to Ophelia. “A monster!”

“No more than I!” Vardrache forced himself to roar, his voice far more firm or loud than it had ever been. It seemed to boom throughout the valley, and silenced any uproar before it could begin. With a strained grunt he forced himself to sit up, and he looked at Ophelia. There was no anger or hatred in his gaze, not even fear. Through the pain he simply nodded at her before he looked between both groups.

“Please...everyone. Can we talk now? This...this does not need to become more violent than it already is.”

[Ophelia]

It was far too late to stem the tide by the time she realized what Vardrache had done. The pint-sized abyssal could only watch in unadulterated horror as the Arcane magic tore into and obscured Vardrache, time feeling as though it was gradually coming to a halt around her, a cosmic clock winding down to zero. Her upraised hand dropped to the chain hanging from her neck, somewhat akin to how a more normal woman might cross her hands before her neck; a motion of uncertainty and familiarity entwined. It was small joy that Vardrache did not share the fate she had intended for the villager - certainly she was not disappointed, but knowing that she had been the one to injure him nonetheless sucked any real pleasure out of seeing the tall man's survival.

"V-Vard!" Her small voice rose up, not quite loud enough to approach a screech or shout but certainly possessed of more force than she was usually capable of. Villagers and invaders alike were instantly forgotten as she scampered through the snow closer to the fallen dragon, either unaware of or uncaring of the displeased speech; all that mattered then was Vard. She was brought to heel by his shout, though, dropping to her knees a short distance from him with fear and worry writ across her face in scarlet, probably the most emotion she had evoked in this adventure, not that she realized it. "I - I was trying to protect you, I'm sorry!" Her head dropped and the kneeling abyssal repeated the words one more time, as if that somehow magically lent them some meaning they had not possessed before. "I'm sorry."

[Vardrache]

That magic had hurt a great deal more than Vardrache had expected. Since he'd lost his old body to this...altered version of his human form, he hadn't really come across much that could truly harm him. Even beasts that could deliver a blow hard enough for him to feel never left a mark. Yet Ophelia's magic had definitely charred his skin, and left him with stinging pain throughout his body. Honestly there was a small part of him that was impressed.

Unfortunately, though Vardrache had succeeded in silencing the unwarranted judgments of the villagers, poor Ophelia was still distraught. She stated that which he had already know, fear and worry clear on her face all the same. Even if Vardrache's objective, right then and there, was to get the villages to come to some manner of peaceful agreement...he couldn't leave Ophelia feeling the way she did. He harbored not negative feelings towards her. If anything it was his fault that she wound up feeling the need to protect him: he hadn't told her what he was, or stated what he could take.

Steadily Vardrache pushed himself to his feet, some smoke still rising from the burns across his body. The pain had begun to subside a bit. Steadily he made his way through the snow, stopping before Ophelia to speak. “You're not at fault, Ophelia.” As much as Vardrache had tried, he always thought himself to be very poor at consoling or reassuring another. Still, as he spoke to the small, apparently magical young girl, he reached out and gently pat her on her head. “Thank you for trying to protect me. I appreciate it a lot. But I'm stronger than these humans...you don't need to attack them. I can take any hit they throw at me.”

Vardrache looked up from the small girl and blinked. The man whose life he had saved had stepped in front of his crowd, silencing them. Apparently Vardrache's actions had been enough to show him that nobody here meant anyone any harm. This was good, and it seemed Rolf had seen this as well. The large, bearded man stepped before the leader of the vagrants and held a hand up.

“I'll say again: we don't have the resources or the space for all of you...but there is a place that has the shelter you need.” Rolf began. He gestured towards the north with a bulky arm and grunted. “You head through the forest there's a big cave. Huge, could fit you all comfortably. Only problem is well...there's no telling what lies in the woods to get there. 'Nother storm could come by too.”

The crowd began to whisper amongst each other, curious but also fearful from the sounds of it. The idea of finding shelter, at least to lay low and recover during the poor weather, was surely preferable to their alternative.

“I don't know what you can do for food either. All I know is that cave's got the room that we don't have. The rest is up to you.” Rolf's statement was fair. Vardrache agreed that the village simply did not have the room or space to hold all of these people. There were only so many houses and buildings. Most of them would be forced to sleep outdoors either way, and that's only so much better for them than sleeping in the wilderness itself.

“How will we get there?”

“What if there are raiders or monsters living out there?


...Though obviously there were new concerns that had been raised. The wilds were always dangerous, all manner of man and creature alike living throughout them. Some, though powerful, were harmless. In fact they may be sympathetic to the plight of the vagrants, much like Vardrache himself. Some would not care either way. Mean no harm, but not willing to do any good. Some however...were malicious and deadly. Not to mention everything in between. Life and living beings were far too complex to break down in such a simple matter.

All Vardrache could really do was decided for himself. He could affirm his own course of action. What he would do, and what he wanted to do.

As the vagrants continued to talk their options over, Vardrache looked down at Ophelia and began to speak softly. “I want to help them. If they need an escort to the cave, or if the cave is inhabited by monsters, I want to be there to protect them. You do not have to come with me, but I would...appreciate it if you did.”

Ophelia was powerful. Far more powerful than Vardrache had guessed. In fact there was a chance the small girl was even more powerful than himself, had she been holding back with that last attack. Vardrache would love for her to use that power to help the vagrants, but by no means did he have any right to try to force the duty upon her. He would go regardless but...well, he also wanted to get to know Ophelia better. Clearly there was more to the girl than meets the eye.

Something that, given all that he was, should not have taken him getting blasted by magic to figure out.

[Ophelia]

"I..." She didn't FEEL 'not at fault,' the uncertainty crawling up her spine whispered mockingly. It recalled the pained grunt Vardrache had uttered when stuck by HER magic - the one who had thought to protect him. It noted the strangely glowing green scars on his chest, suggested by his reaction that she had exacerbated whatever problem he had - or possibly a vulnerability, it giggled gleefully, a thought even more odious than the rest. He wasn't master, after all, what did she care if he got hurt? It wasn't her job to care about anyone else.

"Yes," she said, but thought no. That mindset was... poisonous. Ophelia didn't know much about what she was, but she knew what she wasn't, and she didn't want to just go around killing things. Vardrache had been kind and gentle to her; he still was, she noted as he patted her head, hands rustling through smooth blueish-black hair. He wasn't master, but that didn't mean he was an enemy, either. She didn't really know how to differentiate from friend and foe, master had always simply told her which was which and that was that. But as she was, she had to at least gain some understanding of which was which.

...And she wanted to help.

"I will... aid you." The words came out a little uncertaintly, the smol abyssal somewhat fuzzy on exactly what they were supposed to be doing, but she at least understood the cave-escort paradigm, and more importantly she WANTED to do something. For Vardrache, if only to make up for what she had already done to him. And these people didn't seem as bad as she'd thought initially. Or maybe they were just scared. She wasn't really sure which, or if it mattered in the first place. Looking slightly more confused than usual - a feat in itself - Ophelia picked herself up off the ground, rising to her full height - still not saying much standing anywhere near Vardrache - and realized almost immediately that she had literally no idea what she was supposed to do. The Taygete could wait, that much was certain.

It occurred to her that before meeting Zach and the journey here, the priorities would have been reversed. She didn't know what to make of that.

[Vardrache]

Despite what seemed to be reluctance, or at least uncertainty, Ophelia agreed to help the dragon. He was pleased to hear that, but he did harbor concerns regarding the restrained nature of her answer. Even more unfortunate was that Vardrache didn't have the luxury to give Ophelia the extra time to decide. Already he could hear the crowd begin to muster up what little remaining will they had. Indeed, they were going to make the journey.

So instead, “Thank you,” was all Vardrache could say for the moment. He walked over to the group of vagrants, all so caught up in talking to their friends and loved ones that they scarcely noticed the near-giant that approached him. Given that they didn't see him, Vardrache politely cleared his throat to grab their attention.

“If you're wishing to depart now, then I and my colleague offer to escort you to the cave.” It wasn't until after Vardrache spoke that he realized a new dilemma. He already promised to help the village as best he could. So the dragon's gaze turned briefly to Rolf, but the bearded man merely gave a nod of approval. Vardrache was even certain he could make out a small smile on his otherwise hard face.

The vagrants whispered amongst themselves, discussing whether or not to accept Vardrache's offer. The snow crunched beneath Vardrache's boots as he took a few paces back. Had to give the vagrants their privacy. It was the polite thing to do.

Of course the vagrants all turned to their supposed leader, the man whose life Vardrache had saved earlier. He took some precious time to weigh their options, casting a brief glance towards Ophelia, before his gaze settled on Vardrache. “We don't have nothin' to give you for payment. Scarcely have enough to survive as it is.”

“I know.” Vardrache had no interest in payment. What would he require as payment? Currency? He had no need for it. Food? He was still capable of hunting for himself. The dragon had already pledged his services to the village free of charge, and even if either of them had any means to pay him he would politely decline. That said he couldn't speak for Ophelia...but if she did want something then it would be from him, not from those who had nothing.

“...Thank you. We accept your help then, gladly.”

Vardrache was happy to hear this. He smiled and nodded in the direction they needed to walk to. “I'll follow you with my colleague, then.”

The vagrants seemed happy with this answer. They organized themselves, the leader exchanging some words of gratitude and apology with Rolf. Before long the two men shook hands firmly, and Vardrache instead turned to Ophelia.

“I didn't know you knew how to cast magic.” He...didn't really know how else to approach the subject. He was still fairly certain she was a Human. She at least didn't seem like any other species that he could think of, and she doubted she was a dragon. At the end of the day it didn't matter to Vardrache, but the dragon was curious all the same. “How...or perhaps where, did you learn?”

As the vagrants began to tread on Vardrache began to follow them. Rolf grunted out a farewell, with a few of the villagers behind him uttering their thanks. Vardrache never really knew how to react to gratitude, so he simply shot the group a small smile and a nod as he passed them by, headed towards the tundra that lay ahead of the vagrants.

[Ophelia]

Ophelia was smart enough to knew that she'd just get in Vard's way if she tried to pipe up so she followed along as he took charge of the situation almost immediately, staying at the much larger man's side like a lost child. Which wasn't entirely inaccurate, as it happened. She didn't have much to contribute to the actual effort as each group decided on their own, so she just... waited. She was very good at waiting. Perhaps she was just a naturally boring person, but being on hold until needed led one to learning very quickly how to handle boredom and nothing happening.

As they began to move out, the smol abyssal treaded closer to Rolf and bowed politely. "I'm sorry for the trouble." It wasn't much of an apology nor did she stick around to wait for a response, retreating to Vard's side as quickly as possible without actually teleporting, but she felt as though it was the right thing to do in the situation nonetheless. If not for Vardrache's efforts the confrontation would have turned into a bloodbath, and while she wouldn't have attacked Rolf's villagers, it was... probably not a great deal of reassurance to them given that they didn't actually know that anyways. So it at least seemed polite to say something when parting.

Vardrache's question as they began to head out did serve to throw her for a loop though. Not because she had made a great secret of it, it just... usually didn't come up. She didn't fight much if she could help it, and when she did things usually at the point where it was a necessity anyways. Or ordered by master, in which case they WERE a necessity. So it was actually a fairly new question to her. Not especially creative at the best of times, the pint-sized abyssal decided that honesty was the best policy and answered simply without intonation. "It is... was," she amended, "my primary function." She wasn't actually sure what to add to that; Ophelia was not a great conversationalist at the best of times and less so discussing herself. But Vard was nice and she wanted to make SOME effort to... try to contribute to the conversation, so without actually looking at him, focused more on trekking through the snow without tripping or meeting other assorted mishaps. "Master taught me the basics of Arcane magic. He said I had an affinity for it. It's - it's fueled by emotion, so..."

[Vardrache]

So far, so good. The trek wasn't exactly going to be a smooth one given the terrain, but Vardrache was glad that they hadn't been IMMEDIATELY jumped by some territorial animal or a hungry monster. Or even just some raiders that would take even the ragged clothes off the backs of the vagrants. Where he was from, even deeper into the north, storms brought more than wind and snow. Man and monster alike followed storms to scavenge off of those who had not survived...if he could help it, neither fate would fall upon these vagrants.

Still, the journey's start was a peaceful one, so Vardrache was free to focus on Ophelia, and what she had to share with him.

There was...quite a bit within Ophelia's reply that had Vardrache concerned. Casting magic had been her 'primary function'? That was...an odd way to putt it, to say the least. Most sentient beings didn't refer to abilities they had or jobs they were capable of as 'functions'. Vardrache wasn't sure what to make of the wording, but he couldn't exactly make a judgement based solely on it alone. So he didn't push that angle.

“So...your emotions are what led you to use your magic earlier?” Perhaps that was stating the obvious, but Vardrache wanted to know where Ophelia's trailing off could have led. Despite his investment in the conversation the dragon's gaze remained forward. On the snow covered coniferous trees and snowy brush that surrounded them. On the vagrants who remained huddled together as they pushed onward.

“And you say your 'Master' taught you how to use Arcane magic? Who was your master, then? Just a teacher of magic?” It seemed odd to refer to one's teacher as a master, but...perhaps this was a common term south of Vardrache's home. His teachers had been family and close friends of his family. Members of the tribe he had been born with and raised by. Even the tribe leader was never referred to as a master.

Hmm...Arcane magic, though. That was the magic that Vardrache channeled. His natural affinity or “dragon element”. His moonfire that he'd not been able to breathe, cast, or manipulate since he was struck with his curse. Though the art was lost to him he couldn't recall a time where he truly needed someone to teach him. It all felt so...natural.

It pained him to know that this was no longer the case.

[Ophelia]

She'd never seen snow before this trip, or even that many trees, so it was a bit of a winter wonderland for the abyssal as the group slowly wended their way between the seemingly lifeless trees, standing like silent guardians of their frozen domain. A sort of surreal slog, but a slog nonetheless, an unending journey which likely taxed humans - and in time would tax her as well, she was not entirely superhuman in that regard - but it was apparently the boredom of it that struck Vardrache first. Unsurprising to some degree, given that he was certainly not the type to get exhausted taking a casual stroll through the forest, but she still wasn't quite sure what to make of his newfound propensity for interest in her personally. Nor that it kept coming back to magic, given what she had done to him not long before.

Still. It fell to her to answer him regardless. If only for the sake of truth, and his kindness to her. "I-" At least that was what she thought. In practice, SAYING any of that was a different story entirely. She was neither human nor whole, and it... seemed somehow wrong to admit it. Not that she would actively deceive another, but she had learned the hard way that simply not volunteering information about herself tended to work out more simply and with less would-be warriors of light. "-Wanted to," she said simply, not quite denying Vardrache's theory but neither exactly confirming it. "I was born to... protect others." The words did not come easily, her tone hesitant and a little jumbled, but as simplistic in its truth as in its content.

...At least she thought so. It didn't quite come out as she had intended - to protect master - but Ophelia found that she actually liked the sound of this... not BETTER, perhaps, but almost as well. She wasn't really sure how to explain that her master had stopped having ever existed, so the small abyssal didn't even try. "Master said that arcane was more offensively versatile... and faster... than my Nether magic." She wasn't exactly used to two sided conversations, but Vard kept acting like he wanted it, and she was loath to disappoint him... again. So Ophelia tried to make conversation, looking up at him in a vaguely hopeful manner that at least they might have something in common; she didn't know much else to talk about. "Do you know magic?"

[Vardrache]

Ophelia had a tendency to speak with few words. Vardrache could relate. At first the young woman's words were more certain and...almost blunt, he supposed. Yet since her attack earlier she seemed a bit more hesitant or uncertain. Was she really so badly shaken from the incident? Vardrache hoped that wasn't the case. The pain had since subsided from the injuries she'd dealt him, and he hadn't even been her intended target. There was no bad blood whatsoever, as far as Vardrache was concerned.

Granted he could also be jumping to a conclusion, and he wasn't fond of that. So rather than voice these concerns he simply trudged on through the snow, gazing around as the frozen forest grew thicker around them. There was a strange beauty to the barren trees, covered in ice and snow, yet it was also...ominous.

“Mhm. I...feel the same, I suppose.” Born to protect others, hmm? It was a noble aspiration to some, but to Vardrache it was simply what made sense. He may have understood a more selfish lifestyle and the merits that would have, but...it wasn't for him. All denizens of Elibe needed to stand together: to be strong and prosper. There was already enough working against them, from the harsh environments to the various monsters and creatures that would feed upon them, or even slay them for sport. “I live to protect others as well.”

Some dragons felt as though their natural power earned them the right to rule over lands and other Elibeans. Even a few of the Unaragga felt as such. But Vardrache felt they had this power for reason, that they were nearly immortal for a reason: to protect. To stand guard and help their fellow dragons and other Elibeans prosper. It hadn't truly dawned upon him when he was with the tribe, but when it was mere humans who saved Vardrache's life, not the mighty dragons who he lived with, he saw the truth.

They were all equal, in their own way.

As for the topic of magic, well, Vardrache wasn't certain about the differences between Arcane and Nether. As far as he was concerned, the bolt of Nether magic that sealed his true form away and severed the connection to his own magic had been as fast as lightning. But he had been locked in battle at the time, and perhaps that rule was more general than actual law.

Hm, Vardrache also had to note there was no elaboration on who this “master” was. He supposed he was best off not pushing the subject further, then. “In a sense. Though I may not look it now, I am a dragon.”

It felt weird to say aloud, and a few of the vagrants ahead of him shot back looks of either shock or confusion. He merely met their gazes with his own, impassive stare, and slowly their heads turned forward once more. Strange. “I AM magic, on some level. I could breathe silvery-blue flames that I called 'Moonfire' and manipulate them as well. The magic was classed as Arcane, not tied to any element but instead to my own will and emotional state...”

Vardrache held a gauntlet clad hand over his body. His shirt, though still damaged from Ophelia's magic, covered up most of his scar all the same. But some of it was visible, and the dull glow was still a bit brighter than normal, likely from the earlier agitation. The steel of his gauntlets felt cold against his skin as he looked over to Ophelia.

“My home was attacked, a few months ago, by powerful hunters who killed my kind for sport and profit. We managed to barely fend them off, but the surviving members of my tribe had all scattered after the battle. I was left with this scar. It is filled with Nether magic, and severed my connection to both my dragon form and my own magic circuits. I cannot shift into the form of my birth, nor can I harness my Moonfire.”

There was a twinge of sorrow, almost longing even, in the dragon's voice. He had almost forgotten just how...incomplete he felt. Like half of him had been lost to the void, and the worst of it was just how accurate that description was. It pained him to think on it. A part of his identity stolen away by a man who harbored senseless hatred for his kind. Or worse: a man who just wanted to earn some gold and have a "good time". It was cruel, in Vardrache's eyes...yet he would not let that cruelty overwhelm him.

Pulling his hand away, Vardrache gazed forward, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. “I intend to restore my body, and regain what I have lost. Until then I shall wield this sword and use what remaining strength I have to protect the innocents that dare to survive out here.”

[Ophelia]

...When Vardrache said it, the words sounded far more noble and genuine than when coming from her mouth. She had... twisted her meaning in a way, not quite lying but not entirely accurate either, whereas he spoke it as thought it were the truth of the world, a simple fact of life. The abyssal would have apologized if she could think of the words with which to do it, but explaining the why and the how would take too much time and she didn't quite understand it herself. Regardless of her waffling, though, it did serve to set Vard higher in her estimations again, not that he had really needed the boost.

"A... dragon?" Ophelia cocked her head, somewhat confused and not smart enough to hide it. She had heard OF them before, and seen a few in Arcadia, but they had been... much larger than humans, and also covered in armor-like material called scales. Or, uh, sometimes fur, or feathers, or... other things she didn't recognize at all. But the point was that they were like, a lot bigger than Vard - who was pretty big to be fair - "I- I thought dragons were bigger," she blurted out, her mind catching up to her mouth a little slowly. Hm. That could be taken badly, couldn't it? "N-not that you aren't big!" Yea, that would definitely absolutely totally help.

His explanation of dragon forms and shifting went a bit over her head, but Ophelia at least caught the mention of Nether magic, and vaguely understood that he had been hurt enough that he... wasn't a dragon, or was but couldn't be one, or... something? Not for the first time, Ophelia wished she had been somewhat more... proactive in understanding what master had been working with or used his resources to learn more, at least as long as it wouldn't have bothered him. She also wished that she had kept her mouth shut during the earlier parts of his explanation. "...Sorry. And um. Thank you. For sharing." She had absolutely no idea how to respond to the whole story, her origins had been woefully boring in comparison and her motivation much less... noble.

[Vardrache]

In retrospect perhaps Vardrache had said too much. Ophelia looked a bit overwhelmed, and it seemed to be much for her to take in. Hm, Vardrache would have to keep this in mind the next time he decided to share his story. Really he didn't mind, he was not the type to keep his own history secret, but he didn't want to overwhelm others or make everything about him.

So instead Vardrache chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “In my original form, yes, I was much bigger than I am now. I had wings as well, and while I did not fly well I could still fly.” Funny enough Vardrache's dragon form was among the smaller of those of his tribe, despite the stature of his human form. Granted “smaller than other dragons” likely wasn't saying much. Some, maybe even most buildings, were smaller than dragons. That didn't speak much for the buildings of course.

“Mhm, but yes. Thank you for listening.” Though he didn't mind sharing his story, Vardrache noted this was the first time he'd actually done so since the events occurred. Nobody had really asked, nor had the topic been brought up in anyway. Few had seen his feeble attempts to call upon his magic, and fewer still had successfully cast their own. Vardrache never went around stating that he was a human, but he figured that most assumed that he was one. He didn't necessarily have any outstanding traits that spoke otherwise aside from his stature/size, and even then there were humans larger than him.

Not many, but still.

The wood around the group had grown denser. The trees were all either dead or deciduous, but the area had still become noticeably darker. For all his focus on the conversation the more ominous turn their surroundings had taken was not lost on the dragon. Such thick woods made for good territory for predators.

So the dragon's eyes began to search for signs of such creatures. Pawprints in the snow, claw marks on the tree bark. How he wished he had found either of those, for instead he saw minor burn marks in splotchy patterns across the tree bark. Rather than impressions in the snow his eyes managed to catch silk tethered between bushes. If not for the ice and snow that had gathered along the threads he no doubt would have missed them...

“Hold. Everyone stop.” Vardrache did not shout, but the deep bass of his voice carried well. The vagrants slowed to a halt and turned to him, eyes now wide with worry as to why he stopped them. “We're heading into Bael territory. I want you all to stay here. I will go on ahead.”

Baels. Gigantic spiders that were sturdy enough to survive anywhere. Weaker, younger dragons could be killed by just one of them, and they were rarely alone. Vardrache's abilities may have still been far above that of the average human but he still needed to be cautious with such an enemy. It could be easy to become overwhelmed, and as Ophelia had proven earlier his skin was not invincible. His flesh could be pierced or burned by a great enough force.

“B-Baels?”

“You all should be fine if you stay put. If I go deeper into the territory of the creatures, likely the cave that is to serve as your shelter, they will not seek you out.” Instead their many eyes and sharp fangs would be turned on him. It was better that way. Vardrache could take it...these people could not.

His worry, of course, was mostly with Ophelia as a result. Powerful magic yes, but she did not look durable. Her aid could be invaluable but Vardrache would need to act as he shield. In truth he...hesitated to turn towards he. In truth he would rather she stay with the vagrants, but Vardrache knew better.

“I...ask that you accompany me, should you be willing.”

[Ophelia]

He... did not fly well. She found herself stuck on that line, trying to put together a mental image that simply slipped into stupidity every time she attempted to envision it. She had only seen competence and coordination from Vard so far, aside from possibly that one episode where she, uh, magicked him in the chest, so seeing him as blindly flailing around the sky was an odd and incomprehensible concept. Ophelia had never flown before, further complicating things, so she had no idea what it was like to actually fly, for good or ill. It was just some mental image of Vard flapping his arms like a bird, panicking as he flew through the air like an arrow, unguided and -

"Of course," the smol abyssal agreed demurely as Vardrache thanked her for listening to his story. It was... no trouble at all. Even if it had left her with some very, very strange thoughts that refused to be beaten down and dragged out back to be summarily executed for crimes against the state. She couldn't think of much to respond in kind - Ophelia didn't think she had any secrets that interesting. The biggest she could think of was that she used magic, and, er, that wasn't exactly a secret at this point. Would he find it interesting that she knew Arcane magic t-wait no that was what she had hit him with, of course he knew. Ophelia found the ground extremely interesting and worthy of extensive study as they trudged through the forest, not in the least interested in the other humans. While she was by nature good at comprehending and parsing multiple simultaneous tracks of information as they related to a singular goal, she was NOT good at doing so in depth or in manners not regarding that one goal - usually her master - and quite frankly had no idea how she would even begin to actually keep an eye on all these humans simultaneously.

Or why, for that matter.

Wrapped in her own thoughts she was brought back to reality by Vardrache's comments about Baels and the diplomacy that followed, something Ophelia knew better than to try to inject herself into. Her place was not to tell these people what to do, or how. "Baels..." the pint-sized mage blinked blankly, her voice neutral as she thought back to what she knew of the creatures. Well, had read of them. Obviously she had never fought one. They were large creatures, spider-like monsters said to be as physically strong as a dragon (uncertain claim - variable metric), and almost as tough (again - variable metric - regional mutations further clouding assessment). Unlike dragons, they were not split into coherent elemental distinctions along with strongly defined universal subspecies, rather evolving to match their locale and sometimes developing additional abilities in a manner unlike most.

...She had no idea if she... 'wanted' to fight them. It sounded exhausting at best, considering that some tales told of them coming in great numbers. But Vardrache seemed to want to, for reasons of his own, and he was asking her to help. Something he had not actively done of his own accord. She didn't know enough about Baels to really understand why, but if Vardrache thought it was a significant concern, it must be. She nodded her head, hands held together, hanging before her as her dark hair rustled. "Understood. I am yours to command."