RP:Priestess Taken

Part of the Thy Kingdom Come Arc

Summary: Krice goes to Xalious after hearing rumors that Hildegarde and Leone may be there. He has a hunch Josleen may know where they are. His hunch is right. Josleen leads Krice to her father’s house to visit Leone, but when they get there they discover that the room Leone was in suffered a fire and Leone was taken by a death knight.

Xalious Village

Krice sat outside Xalious, roughly ten metres up the mountain, staring southward into the magical town. A large boulder served as his perch, atop which he rested with both arms loosely folded over his chest, and legs crossed at the ankle - right foot in front of left. The trio of scars that once so clearly marked his left cheek were nothing more than a barely-visible blemish, now, having healed cleanly over the course of several months. Now, sporting long hair, his usual black garb, katana strapped to his back, and an expression that was modestly contemplative and more-so guarded, the warrior waited and watched; listening, wondering.

Ansel's cabin sits in the north western outskirts of Xalious Village. From its north-facing windows Josleen spies a familiar man and his monochrome aesthetic. She dries her hands on a kitchen towel and takes two full minutes to layer on the spring-colored outer wear she dons in winter, always refusing to be slave to the bleak, even in dress. She hikes the frosty distance between them and waves overhead when she is still five meters out. "Morning Krice!" She shouts when she is still way too far to actually converse, and thus an awkward silence fills the gap between the initial greeting and dialogue. Though it isn't pure silence. The sounds of her boots scraping frozen blades of grass, then the gravel of the road, then stone fills that silence. Stripped bare trees creak in the wintry wind. At a conversational distance, she greets him again, the first one rendered inert by time and distance. Relationships work like that too, don't they? Need attention to keep past attentions from fading. "Hi." Her breath steams in curlicue shapes that vanish as they rise above her nose. "You alright?"

Krice's attention shifted toward the door of Ansel's cabin as it swung open. Though he had been watching that general direction, hoping for news of injured folk tended to somewhere in Xalious, it hadn't been the warrior's intention to spy. As such, the door opening was an unexpected development that drew his eye and held his focus. Josleen's emergence from the cabin inspired in the warrior curiosity enough that one eyebrow quirked upward, but his expression relaxed to a calm, amicable one upon hearing her distant greeting. Ever polite, the silver-haired enigma pushed off his boulder-seat and took just a few steps closer to the approaching healer, at least meeting her on her way up - though closer to his rock than to Xalious. " Hey," he greeted once close enough for their voices to be shared between only them. Josleen's query after his well-being earned her a simple nod, and a truthful, " I'm fine." After passing a quizzical glance across the broader expanse beyond the healer, Krice asked of her, " How're you? How's Xalious?"

"Alright, quiet, cold." She glances towards the village, then down at the ground between them. "Rebuilding." She looks up at him. Her replies answer both his questions equally well. Up close to Josleen's face it's possible to discern her exhaustion. She isn't getting much sleep these days. Between making the Anesko cabin run on rails, hiding Frostmaw dignitaries at her parents' house, managing a political revolution in Xalious, and, of course -- the big kahuna -- a sudden descent into crushing poverty, it's a wonder Josleen sleeps at all. But the poverty she hides well. She looks simply tired. The poverty is new, and thus clothes have not yet aged to the tell-tale fray and fading of the impoverished. "What brings you here?" The bard doesn't miss the fact that once again she has found Krice on the outskirts of Xalious, looking in like a stray dog at just outside the door of the butcher's, wanting to come in but repelled by an unspoken rule.

Krice glanced past Josleen as she spoke her succinct but informative description of Xalious' current times, coupling the image to the words. As his gaze returned to the bard's face, he did notice her apparent tiredness, her expression not quite as bright as he had seen it in past encounters; this he kept to himself, however, even more so aware of Josleen's predisposition toward keeping a healthy, happy, beautiful exterior. Instead, the man focused on her question, which in turn lead him to his own. "I've heard that Steward Hildegarde and Priestess Leone are here in Xalious, being cared for. Do you know anything about that?"

She sighs heavily at his question, and pauses before saying somberly. "You know I do." Josleen and Hildegarde's friendship is no secret. Also no secret is that Krice is an ally of Frostmaw, and Josleen knows he is close to Leone. "But Leone..." She shakes her head grimly to indicate Leone is an especially bad way. "We're doing all we can, but there's little improvement. Hard to explain. It's best to see for yourself. I can take you to her if you like. I'd rather not say outloud where they are just yet." A finger lifts and spans the width of a circle twice, like a satellite in orbit around them. "Spies. I am told there may be spies and thus I need to be careful with my words in public." She blinks, then laughs tiredly, covering her hand with her mouth. Some of her spark returns, in part in surprise to the sound of her own laughter. How long has it been? "Perhaps I have put myself at risk if spies have heard I know where they are. Though, gods, a kidnapping sounds like a much needed break right now. Maybe catch up on some reading, sleep." She winks playfully at her dark humor, though she doesn't smile. As soon as the humor of the joke fades, her tiredness returns like the faithful tide. "Shall we?"

Krice's expression softened as that familiar glow winked at him through Josleen's gaze, though her following words regarding 'spies', and Leone's condition, earned her a distantly grim shift in his expression. Never mind talk of kidnapping; the bard could consider herself safe. "No one within earshot, right now," he murmured reassuringly, though what was meant to be a tease came out flat, compressed by his concern for the ill priestess. His supernatural senses told him as much, and he spoke the words with confidence in belief of them, before gesturing to the south with a wave of his right hand. "Lead on. I'll make sure no one kidnaps you on the way." The warrior adopted a subtle smirk, which faded quickly as he stepped forward to walk abreast his healer companion.

"My hero," she flirts in a deadpan tone. It feels strange. When's the last time she flirted harmlessly, for fun, with no intentions? Or even with intentions? Her life is bereft of carefree moments these days. This feels foreign. And perhaps it is by force of habit of serious topics and inquiry that she asks him, after traversing some distance, a more serious question. "I don't mean to pry. I know you don't like that. But. This is the second time I find you lurking just beyond Xalious's borders rather than coming right in. Is there a reason you wait outside the borders?"

Krice couldn't quite accept Josleen's flirtatious reply, likely because of her tone, and because of the dire straights in which his good friend Leone had found herself. Silently, he assumed a comfortable gait beside the bard. As they entered Xalious, he shifted his attention to look around, subtle changes in the angle of his head sending his gaze left, right, straight ahead - scrutinizing the various aspects of the town's rebuilding process. He seemed relatively comfortable, despite the fact that he was well within Josleen's field of reach, perhaps even distracted by his surroundings; the furrow of a brow, the slightest tension in his jaw, portraying his concentration on the world that encompassed him. Leone had been in such a state before; she would come through it again. Of that he was certain. The bard's question broke through his thoughts in a belated echo, reverberating against the walls of his unspoken observations. " You -are- prying," he answered at length, spoken on a kind tone lacking aggression despite his unease. He even wore a slight smile to further soften the accusation and spared a sideways glance at the woman to his left, though it too was an expression that .

Krice's alertness convinces Josleen that something is amiss between him and Xalious. She doesn't note his proximity as anything special because she fails to realize it's noteworthy for -him-. But for her to have someone stand close feels normal. She draws people in. It's part of her affect. "I don't deny prying, but I pry with nothing but admiration and concern. Besides, if it's a personal problem with some scoundrel here, perhaps I can make the problem go away. I know most residents, can shake the right hands and all that."

Krice smirked, more wryly than arrogantly, and lowered his head into a shake of the negative. " I don't have a problem with anyone here," he said, his tone casual but underlined by slight incredulity; if he had a problem with anyone, he likely could have worked it out on his own. " No, it's just... not my favourite place. I prefer a cooler climate - like Frostmaw."

Never underestimate the usefulness of a good diplomat! But that's neither here nor there. Krice doesn't need a diplomat at the moment. So Josleen opts to be his friend. His answer does not satisfy. It's not a good enough reason to lurk beyond Xalious's border, where the weather is same as it is inside it. But Krice is the type of man you either don't ask, or you only ask once, and that's it (at least until time resets the counter; Josleen may try again in a few months). Southbound, they turn right at the Xalious Tree much like they did the last time they walked Xalious together into the mountains, but this time they deviate from the garvel road onto residential dirt paths into a meadow. Squat, wide houses with wintry lawns stand sparsely. Joslen and Krice follow the main path to her parents' home. The bard stops short and gasps. Her eyes fix on a house with black smoke billowing out of one bedroom. The smoke fades slowly, suggesting the fire has stopped, but that there was a fire. Josleen breaks into a sprint for the house. As soon as she crosses the threshold she shouts "Mom!" It's a white ranch-style house with a white-fence and a quaint garden. Inside, the first room is a living room with lots of floral prints, ceramic antiques (oft chipped), lace doilies, and the general aesthetic of aging middle class country people. It's also clear where Josleen picked up her love of floral prints. On the right side of the living is a hallway, now smokey. Josleen sprints down the hall passed two doors, to the third door where a human woman waves a blanket to try and blow the smoke out through the opposite window of the room. "Mom!" Josleen shouts again as she goes to help her mother. "Jos!" her mother shouts in surprise. The woman has been crying. "Oh gods, I couldn't stop him." The words tumble out of her mouth a mile a minute as she tries to explain in broken fragments and unfinished thoughts what has happened. "Priestess Leone, she" the woman's hands make an exploding motion (??), "then the fire, and then the man. So evil." She sniffles loudly in the same way Josleen does when she cries. "He came, and I couldn't stop him, and oh gods, I didn't know what to do. He took her! I don't know where they went, or if she's..." The word Jessa can't say is 'alive'. "I sent word to Bertram, and your father, and Steward Hildegarde, and Mikael and Lisbeth, and anyone I could think of." Jessa still hasn't noticed Krice. Josleen breaks into the smoke-choked room and immediately begins coughing loudly. It's her childhood room. Power pink walls (now stripped by fire and smoke in parts), white mopboard and door frame, toy tea set and doll house in one corner (covered in smoke and ash), and a wallpapered runner of ribbons and ballerina slippers like a crown on the walls, tarnished now and peeling in one corner. Josleen left at a fairly young age for Cenril to study music,and the room never finished growing up. The twin-sized bed has a Leone-sized hole burned through the mattress. Josleen can't stay in the room for long and quickly exits out onto the hall where the smoke is slightly less intense. She looks to Krice to lead them through this. This isn't a time for diplomats. Soon a male elf and mage joins the group and Jessa explains to him what happened as well. He doesn't seem bothered by Krice's presence in his home. All manner of strangers have come through here lately, and if neither Jessa nor Josleen are alarmed by Krice, then Kyl'oriel isn't either. He does look at the man for an introduction at some point, but doesn't press the issue yet.

Krice wasn't noticed by Jessa because he hadn't yet entered the home. The warrior's mind had been preoccupied halfway through the trip through Xalious, his attention stolen in random directions by something unseen, unheard. Many steps from its source, he had detected the aroma of a dead fire in the crackling of magical energy in Xalious' air, along with trace other scents that had been dispersed and obscured by stronger smells - but were masked no longer. Seconds before the healer ran for her smouldering home, the warrior slowed and adopted a thoughtful frown. What had been guarded concern before was now unfurling in his gut as a barbed-wire whip, snapping through him with fleeting intensification of panic. Leone was in trouble. It was only as they neared the charred home that Krice's mind looked beyond his immediate concern to spare a thought to the other inhabitants - at which point, Josleen's screams for her mother's safety pulled him clear of his internal thoughts and he walked briskly ahead. Whilst the bard rushed into the home, the warrior felt a pang of hesitation, wanting to stop her, but ultimately he did not impede her need to check on her family. Standing a couple metres back from the front door threshold, the silver-haired enigma scanned the charred home from end to end, a quick but calculative once-over to determine its structural integrity. He emerged through the halls upon the conclusion of Jessa's story regarding an 'evil man', his features drawn into a stern, cool expression. Sparing a second thought, this time for Jessa's struggles with her damaged home, Krice reached out to ask for Josleen's hand, his fingers spread, aimed at her, before breaking his silence to enquire after her mother's story, "The male who took Leone - what did he look like?" His features twitched slightly as the varied scents in the smouldering home assailed him once more, clamoring for olfactory comprehension. A squint of one eye, subtle so as not to disturb the even stare he had leveled upon Josleen's mother, and he offered, " White hair, grey eyes, armour, morose--sad-looking...?" If the bard took his hand, he'd curl his warm fingers around hers in silent offering of security. The other people present in the home were scant acknowledged, not yet.

Josleen accepts Krice's hand and squeezes it gently. Hands hold for an extended moment, then the bard, ever sensitive to social propriety, releases him before things gets weird and shift (around the time Krice is finishing his description of Grailan). She smiles gratefully to him then slinks an arm around her mother to guide the group out of the smokey hallway. In much the same way Josleen has ushered Krice about with just her small body (at Frostmaw's clinic most notably), she does it now again to the warrior and her parents. Jessa walks and talks, urged on by Josleen towards the living room. Kyl'oriel follows, listens. A typical elf, he is composed. His concerns are all internalized. Jessa blinks up at Krice in disbelief. "Y-Yes...you know him?" In the living room, Josleen without a word gestures that she will bring a roundof water for everyone. Kyl'oriel gestures for Krice to sit if he so wishes, but the elf does not insist.

Krice released Josleen's hand per her cue and turned to move with the group into the living room, though he did not sit. Jessa's confirmation of his guess earned her a harder look - due to internal thoughts not related to her - before he flicked a fleeting glance at Josleen. " I've gotta go." Evidently, the evil who had taken Leone was someone with whom Krice was very familiar. Bowing his head shallowly in as polite as possible a gesture of gratitude, Krice voiced a final enquiry. " Did he say anything? Did -he- cause the fire?"

Josleen returns with waterfor everyone, including Krice, just as he hesitates upon departure and asks a second question. Jessa shakes her head to Krice. "No, to both questions. He didn't say a word, and he didn't cause the fire. Leone has been burning from the inside out for days." Kyl'oriel interjects and explains further, "I asked mages to come from the Tower to try and extinguish the fire within the priestess, but her trouble was holy, not arcane. We've been working diligently to solve the problem permanently but hadn't yet succeeded. You say you know this man? Tell me his name." A little anger flashes in the composed elf's green stare. He stands. "I have a right to know who barged into my house, took my guest captive, left my--" He doesn't finish the title but looks to Jessa. "Left her in a fire, to grapple with a fire."

Krice glanced briefly at Josleen upon her return, but the male elf's questions drew his attention back. He lifted his chin slightly, meeting composed exterior with composed exterior; both men felt the ire of a wrongdoing, and each was dealing with it in his own way. " I am uncertain of his name. I've seen him before, that's all." The warrior bowed his head in polite farewell to Jessa. " I'm sorry for the damage caused to your house. Take care." And then, he glanced at Josleen. " I'd like to talk to you outside," murmured the warrior, just firmly enough to let her know that he -wanted- to tell her something, but not so firmly as to be perceived as rudeness. After a nod given to the others, Krice turned to exit the charted structure at a brisk pace, continuing several meters out from the front door.

Kyl'oriel and Jessa nod farewell to Krice. Josleen follows the warrior outside. The smell of smoke clings to her coat and hair and ashens her complexion. Once he stops a fare distance from the house she glances over her shoulder. Her father watches them from the window. Josleen stiffens her upper lip, lifts her chin, takes a deep breath, then looks back to Krice. "Sorry about him." Sorry about what exactly? She shakes her head then asks, "Yes? What's going on?"

Krice tilted his head to glance past Josleen briefly, acknowledging her watchful father. To the woman herself, he murmured, " He's fine," in dismissal of her apology before going on to speak about why he had lead her far out from her home. " The man who came and took Leone is a Death Knight named Grailan. For some reason, he has attached himself to her like a leech. Every time she is in such ill health, he comes to get her, to watch over her, to ensure that she heals. I don't know why the hell a Death Knight would care if a person lives or dies but that's just how it is. He seems to have saved her life more than once and she doesn't seem to mind his presence. Regardless, I don't trust him. I don't know what his game is." A beat. And then a softer, " I didn't want to alarm your mother by telling her this. I'll leave that decision up to you, though someone needed to be made aware that such a creature had entered your home." Hence, he told the healer, herself. After a light press of his lips in denotation of distant distress, Krice asked of Josleen, " Will you be alright? Do you need help here?"

Josleen's face draws inwards in confusion at the phrase 'Death Knight'. She's heard the term before, but never fully understood what they are beyond a dark force with a role similar to that of a knight. Who do they serve? What is their creed? The bard takes a mental note to do some research. "Thank you. I'll find a way to tell them. My father may know more about Death Knights and their motivations. He is an educated man." She smiles reflexively at his last question; her answer is automatic. "I'll be fine. Don't worry. But where will you go now?"

Krice nodded and shifted only his eyes to look past Josleen's head, once more regarding her father where he lurked in the doorway of her damaged home. " I'm gonna look for Leone," he said flatly, though quietly, before inquiring after Josleen's well-being again, this time along with a modest dose of skepticism shadowing his gaze. " You sure?"

"Yes, but where will you start to look for her? How can I help?" She can feel her father still staring at them and makes a point to ignore the staring. She nods twice to indicate she is sure. "It's just clean up now. If it is this Grailan as you say, a lone character with a strange infatuation, then I doubt anyone else will come to cause trouble."

Krice said, " He's part of a group. It's possible that his infatuation is not something he alone feels for the priestess, so just be aware. In any case, now that she's out of your home, there shouldn't be anymore trouble. Hopefully." A beat, and then, " You just take care of your family, your business. If Xalious has any medical facilities, you can check them for Leone when you get the time. I'm going to look for her in Kelay, then Gualon." He pressed his lips together in subtle portrayal of hopefulness, his gaze guarded but otherwise harbouring concern for Josleen in her plight. " She didn't mean to damage your home." He spoke this in such a way as to intimate that the bard knew as much. " The burning, when she's in such bad shape... It's something she can't control." Krice's features became a little more grim as he spoke of the wounded priestess, but his overall vibe of apology remained.

Josleeen agrees to his plan, though she knows intuitively Leone is not at the local clinic. Her gut is rarely wrong. "Oh, oh of course not. I know she wouldn't do such a thing on purpose. I regret we couldn't find the right help in time." His expression elicits a frown and she takes a quick step toward him as if afraid he'll escape before she can ask. "But... I don't want to keep you, but you keep saying things I want to unravel. What do you mean he's part of a group? Of death knights?" Krice tilted his head and regarded Josleen quizzically, though not with ignorance. In response to her enquiry about Grailan's alliances, he offered a quiet but clear, " I'm actually not sure if he still is, but last I knew for certain, he was a Death Knight who belonged to Aethlinga Gedriht. A clan led by the big bear-guy, Eboric." The warrior's mouth twisted in displeasure. " I don't trust him, either."

Josleen's lips purse cruelly at the words Aethlinga Gedriht. Her look squints shrewdly. It's an expression that borders on hatred, and one that she rarely wears. Few have seen her hate, and it's because she hates so few, Eboric among that select minority. "If he belongs to them, then you must find him. His infatuation cannot possibly be harmless. No aid without theft for those who follow in Eboric's footsteps."

Krice couldn't help it; Josleen's expression was so purely of hatred, so rare for -her-, that his own shifted to reflect his surprise. It was subtle, but there, a cloud of intrigue and understanding shadowing the contours of his face. What Josleen -said- about Eboric did not take him by surprise, but her disdain for the bear-man did - only because it didn't suit her. " He's not a nice guy, I agree," muttered the silver-haired enigma, wearing a vague snarl to accentuate his own dislike. The warrior had to look for Leone, but first, " Tell me quick, before I go... What is your experience with him? Or his group?"

"I lived in Venturil when he took it for his own." She speaks through a barely there snarl. "I never bought his phony story that he intervened to save Venturil from monsters. Really? Then why was his hairy, excuse my language, -arse-, on the throne when the dust cleared? I was engaged at the time. He died in the raid. I fled to Chartsend like so many other refugees. Eboric, who is no real king in my book, never had to answer for his usurpation." She shakes her head then waves the entire story away. "That's in the past. We need to look to Leone. I shan't keep you." Krice watched Josleen attentively as she recalled her encounter with Eboric, direct or otherwise. Her description of the bear-man earned her a slightly amused albeit wry smirk from the warrior, which quickly faded due to the humourless revelation that she had lost a loved one during the self-appointed king's occupation of her then-home. His sentiment of sympathy and empathy carried on through to the bard's conclusion. He reached out, gently resting his right hand around her upper left arm just beneath her shoulder, for a light, reassuring squeeze to hopefully offer some comfort for her loss. She didn't appear to have moved on, yet - not completely. The contact lasted all of two seconds before the silver-haired man nodded firmly in agreement that he needed to look for Leone. " I'll let you know where I find her," he said, before sending a final thoughtful glance toward Josleen's father as he turned to depart.

Josleen squeezes his hand over her arm in acceptance of his comfort. She forces one of those thin, pinched smiles that confirm his suspicions that she hasn't fully moved on, that her hate for the king burns so long as she misses the trampled dead. She nods as he goes, unable to say anything more. With her back to the house, she takes a moment to compose herself and put on a little armor. Josleen forgets Krice's super sensitive hearing and mistakenly thinks he is out of ear shot when she says to her father, "He is just a friend. Stop looking at me like that." And her father quips back, "And how am I supposed to look at you? Ever since you divorced Ezekiel I don't know who you are anymore." She pushes past her father into the house to help her mother clean the charred room.

Whatever Krice thought of Josleen's words with her father, he kept to himself, moving at a brisk walk away from the bard and her damaged home in search of the wounded, 'kidnapped' Leone.