Valensandr's Calling and Origami Things

<-- I anticipated being late, but I was about an hour later than I anticipated getting home (it was for a goodly reason!) so I fully expected there to be 0 response to continuing training things ;-; But Gurashi yeeted themselves into the realm and first thing went to tell the goodest krokani they were READY TO LEARN... Following THIS Log: https://controlc.com/45f95edb

Passing by the bulwark.
Grey stone walls align here in an angular fashion, taking the vague shape of a chevron with its pointed end narrowed into the vast expanse of the Istaldon Fields. Above, shadows cross back and forth along the ramparts: warriors and soldiers of the Even Bladed who intend to keep an eye on things from such a height, their hands clenched around crossbows and longbows to safely attack at a distance. War flags wave along the stone, thin and weathered from the elements and battle; below them lie the calvary obstacles, the fog of war weaving through the spears and pikes ominously. A siege ladder leans against the curtain wall here, its distant platform stretching high above as if attempting to reach the heavens.
You see exits leading north, south, and west.

You pant like a dog.

You fret over everything that might go wrong.

You think to yourself: Late am late am late am late.

The inner courtyard of Fort Vigilant. (road).
At the heart of the courtyard, one finds the beat of activity. Tracks and trails cut across the rust-red ground, stamped into the dry earth by the boot-heels of marching warriors and guards; the grunts of training echo against the tall-reaching walls, and even the occasional snarl and neigh of beasts rumbles in accompaniment to the orchestra of work. Where the faithful of the Even Bladed roam to their duties, departing through the gate to the outer courtyard beyond, some find themselves heading into the keep of Fort Vigilant: the mighty stone temple of the Goddess. Clouds of kicked-up dust rise up into the air before dispersing, and thus causing the air to smell earthy, raw, and edged with the bitter burn of metal. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground.
You see exits leading north, northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, and northwest.

You fret over everything that might go wrong.

You think to yourself: Late late late late late.

You pant like a dog.

A dueling pit marked by sword-carved plinths. (road).
Sharp and distinct from the reddened ground of the rest of the courtyard, this far corner sports a broad circle of clean white stand that is surrounded by marble plinths carved with downward-pointing swords. Careful inspection reveals its purpose: a dueling ground, where those who wish to test their mettle against live opponents, or perhaps regain their lost honour just the same. Patterns of feet disrupt the what-could-be smooth sand; however, it is clear that the rules of out-of-bounds are obeyed, as only thin ribbons of scattered grit escape the determined border of the pit. Nearby, a few benches are set here and there, as are jugs filled with water and racks of immaculately-maintained weapons. As the day passes, one finds that no shadow falls upon this space, as if it were built to remain in the eye of the sun. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground.
You see exits leading north, northeast, west, and northwest.

You think to yourself: Heckity! Will have to checkity.

<-- run run run

An open-air rookery.
Long, paneless windows expose the top floor of the watchtower to the outdoors, bringing the humid, green scent of the valley beyond as well as its sounds. Yet, whatever noise that would echo through the raftered ceiling is overwhelmed by an altogether different chorus of squawks, caws, and chirps from birds encaged in golden cages. These wiry contraptions stand about freely on tables, chests, and chairs, and each harbours a feathered friend or two: from the dark-plumed crow and severe peregrine, to the gentle mourning dove and cruel-looking ossifrage. Attendants gather around these birds, feeding them, tending to them, and often attaching small notes to their legs before releasing them into the skies; some return quickly, while others take hours to wing their way back. Central to the room is a large, wooden table, its surface papered over with battle plans, intelligence reports, and all manner of hastily scrawled notes. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Claymore slung across his back, Captain Valensandr Paavik thoughtfully observes the communication table with his hazel-gold eye. You notice a variety of WARES for sale here. You may MAIL letters from here.
You see a single exit leading down.

LOOK VALENSANDR WORKING THERE, OBLIVIOUS OF ME
Not bulky or particularly muscular, Valensandr Paavik is a lanky krokani man of tawny-pale skin and messy dark hair. His handsome face is youthful and eager, though it is marred by a pinkish scar that splits down his cheek to the corner of his mouth. Just above his aquiline nose rests his singular, hazel-gold eye that frequently narrows in consternation as he thoughtfully chews upon his lower lip. Instead of a breastplate or cuirass, his core is protected by chainmail that is covered by a white-spun tabard; this surcoat sports both the arms of the Even Bladed and House Paavik alike, and it drips with ornate medals of valour, many historical in design and clearly passed down and gifted for him to wear. Slung across his back in an elaborate sharkskin scabbard is his claymore that is half his size.
Valensandr Paavik has an air of extreme strength.
Your eye catches upon one of the medals pinned to Valensandr's tabard: a simple, circular medallion imprinted with the visage of Empress Inalai III that hangs upon a crimson ribbon.

You have emoted: Gurashi pokes their head up from the top of the stairs, grimacing, the very picture of apology. "Uhm, Mister Valensandr...?" They chime towards Valensandr Paavik. "Sorry...am late - soul, was uhm..."

Bright and clear, you say to Valensandr Paavik, "Was worried would not be waking at about same times, and was so...! But," They shrink back down a step, "should not be samely cases next month. Or later? Am so sorry."

You have emoted: Gurashi bobs their head side to side. "Really, am very very sorry. Promise will make it up to you, yes."

You have emoted: Gurashi bobs their head, sinking back down into the stairwell, quickly fumbling with the straps on their bag. "Outta make a letters," They mutter to themselves, organizing the mess spilling out of their pack onto the stairs.

Nodding his head, Valensandr Paavik says, "It is all right, my friend. I am still in need of finding an assistant to help us too." <-- UNEXPECTED

Bizirik, the leothin snorts, snuffling at you, eyeing the mess before snatching up one of their notepads helpfully, holding it between their secondary limbs. "-Thank- you," The human pouts, flipping it open and starting to scribble something inside.

You blink.

"Perhaps next month?" Valensandr Paavik he asks.

You stare blankly into space.

You have emoted: Gurashi scrambles to their feet and climbs back up, now visible again at the top of the steps. "Ah!"

Clasping their hands together, you say to Valensandr Paavik, "That would be perfect! Haha, it sounds like worked out, anyway? Ahhhh."

You fret over everything that might go wrong.

You sway anxiously in your spot.

Valensandr Paavik nods vigorously in agreement. "Also, you can venture into the rookery, you know. You need not stay at the stairs."

You blink.

You have emoted: Gurashi shuffles, still lingering at the top step. "Ahhhh, did not want to be rude - are many peoples going ins, and outs," They gesture with a smile. "...is this where you always work?"

You think to yourself: *a ripple of color reflecting the colors cast down by the sky through the paneless windows - the smell of so many birds and paper and wood*.

"Aye," Valensandr Paavik he gestures at the table in front of him. "Always here, dealing with all missives and reports from the myrmidons who venture throughout the realm." He shrugs, his shoulders jumping up as he sinks into the back of his chair.

Speculatively, Valensandr Paavik says, "Unless I am called by the Lady to do something else..."

You have emoted: Gurashi's gaze follows Valensandr Paavik's gesture to the table. At this, they frown, finally moving away from the stairwell to approach the front of the desk. "Is it a fun job?"

Bright and clear, you say to Valensandr Paavik, "...like - do have fun...?" They look over the table, their fidgeting hands keeping to the straps of their pack instead of picking up and examining the quills. "With the missives..."

You think to yourself: *remembering the look on the krokani's face as they emerged after many long months of training - excited! was excited - he seems excited to be...not here! a ripple of blue*.

Papers fly as a strong gust rolls through, causing them to spiral through the air before a myrmidon catches them and slaps them still with a small book.

He laughs. "Fun?" Valensandr Paavik considers the term for a moment. "Sometimes it is fun. Some of the myrmidons write interesting reports, sometimes sad ones. Then sometimes I receive communique from others--other folk within the Dagger. Which is more fun. Folks tend to write very philosophical letters." He looks down, his eye focusing on the sheets of paper, scrolls, and a few folded origami upon the table. He picks one up--a folded dragon--and he smiles. "It is not always fun, but someone has to do it. And my rank ensures that I serve."

You have emoted: Gurashi watches Valensandr Paavik speak, their own face reflecting the krokani's joy as he recants his experience. "Ohhh, so it is like always getting to read stories." They spot the dragon, then GASP in delight, lifting a hand to their mouth to stifle the sound.

Valensandr Paavik's gaze flicks to you when you gasp. "Is... is something wrong?"

You have emoted: Gurashi bites their lower lip, excitedly and suddenly producing a sheet of vellum from seemingly nowhere. They lean forward and, using the other end of the desk, beginning to fold it into their own design, corner of their tongue sticking out of their mouth as they concentrate.

Concentrating intensely, you ask, "Do you make the folding things too?"

His mouth opens. That familiar 'ahh' shape as realisation dawns upon him. Valensandr Paavik smiles, still holding the dragon up. "I try. I am not too good on folding vellum or paper yet. This was a gift from a cousin of mine, who sent a brief letter letting me know of their move to Gaudiguch." He sets the delicate thing down. "Do you?" he asks, "Fold things?"

You have emoted: Gurashi lets out a soft "Aha!" of delight as they finish folding the little leothin-shaped origami. They hold it up beside the actual creature, who looks less-than-impressed standing side-by-side with its miniature vellum replica. "I try! Sorry," They laugh, "got excited when saw it. Bet will make lots of nicely things if keep practicing, yes? It must be nicely to get so many letters, still." They grimace, shoulders bunching apologetically. "Oh, right. Uhm!! I-I was going to ask, what brought you to Her order, though! How you got to be where are!" They offer the origami now to Valensandr Paavik, leaning over the desk. "She must think highly of you to send you to helps me, yes!"

Orange-red torchlight creeps in from the paneless windows as the evening guards cautiously patrol the curtain wall.

A golden firefly squid drags itself in.
It bears the distinctive mark of Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk.

A golden firefly squid flails about helplessly.

A golden firefly squid scuttles away.

Valensandr Paavik's eye widens, fascinated by your folded leothin. He agrees, his nod a sharp and quick motion. "Indeed. It is fortuitous that I receive so many letters so I can practice with them." He laughs, a gentle chuckle, and when the squid appears, he blinks. "... how odd."

Distracted by the squid still, Valensandr Paavik says, "... erm, what did you ask again?"

With great reverence, you give a springy leothin origami to Valensandr Paavik.

You have emoted: Gurashi glances askance, their gaze briefly drifting to their sword before they smile at Valensandr Paavik, their enthusiasm waning the barest amount. "I asked about how found Her Order, yes. What brought you here, to Her. Got you here to where are." They bob their head side to side, watching.

You think to yourself: *the arrival of the squid cuts through all the color, bringing with it inky darkness, spreading - the sensation of shooing away, like dusting cobwebs, little skeins of saffron appearing instead*.

Again, Valensandr Paavik's face breaks open--"Ahh"--he says. He leans forward, placing his forearms upon the table. "I was a Paladin by profession, and like so many, I felt a particular void in the aftermath of the guild's dissolution." He glances down, briefly, as if passing the merest moment of silence for the long-gone institution. "I tried to remain within New Celest for the longest of time, briefly spending a time with the Cavaliers of Light, before visiting family in Gaudiguch, Paavik. I tried to work there as a guard for the longest time..."

Softly, Valensandr Paavik says, "It was quite a dark time, I will admit. How do you handle the fact that something that you dedicated your life and heart to, just gone?"

You have emoted: Gurashi leans against the desk, rapt with attention, sinking enough so that their face comes to rest between both hands, palms squishing their cheeks. "...have heard similar sentiments from other peoples who were around during those times." They frown deeply, expression sympathetic. "Am sorry."

You think to yourself: *another ripple in the color - acknowledgement - even if you are crumbled to little pieces and the rest of the world falls away, -you- are still there - and you -must- move forward*.

You think to yourself: *a fluttering in their chest, an empathetic pang - losing something your whole everythings was dedicated to... an internal sigh, deepening of color and shade*.

"It is fine... it has been a long time since its dissolution, you know. I've had a lot of time to think about myself." Valensandr Paavik pulls his gaze to you, just staring, almost unnervingly, unintentionally. "When the Lady came, I hoped to garner Her attention--like so many others did. All Paladins knew of the Even Bladed, She championed us for many, many years."

A sudden croon of one of the bird's disrupts the otherwise silence of the place, the creature soon returning to its slumbers once more.

You have emoted: Gurashi too leans forward slightly, holding their breath as they hang on the krokani's every word, still frowning, face still smushed by their own supporting hands.

You nod your head at Valensandr Paavik.

Still soft in voice, Valensandr Paavik says, "And I will not be ashamed to admit, I pleaded. I cried. For days. And perhaps She took pity on me. But one day, She came to me in vision. Placed Her hand upon my chest, and I felt something that I hadn't felt in a long time."

You have emoted: Gurashi inhales through their nose at this, their own eyes growing shiny. "Ohh," They whisper, offering no other interruption, listening on.

Valensandr Paavik grows quiet, his lips forming a tight, thin line as he then folds his hands together. "I can't describe it. It is like warmth. Like my heart was aflame."

You think to yourself: *the skein of saffron continues to wildly drift about in their head as they envision the Even-Bladed's piercing gaze, Her commanding tone - the way She fawned over Bizirik - yes, could see why loves Her so muchly*.

Bright and clear, you whisper, "Together, yes."

Valensandr Paavik nods in quiet agreement.

You have emoted: Gurashi leans back a little, bringing their left hand away from their face and reaching down to tap their own heart with a smile wordlessly, listening.

You gaze softens as you smile at Valensandr Paavik.

You think to yourself: *grateful - am grateful for, yes*.

Shifting in his seat, Valensandr Paavik clears his throat gently. "So, I pledged to Her and I am thankful She took me into service. I began to train the myrmidons, moving to organizing our intelligence within the Istaldon shortly thereafter."

You have emoted: Gurashi stands up fully again, swaying as they rest both hands on the end of the desk, just by the barest hint of their fingertips. "Am glad too!" They chime back, looking about. "Because you get to have goodly company, with all these birds and myrmidons...! And getting to read many interesting letters?" They pluck another piece of vellum from thin air, waving it about. "And learning to folds!" A toothy grin. "And training peoples!"

You bounce up and down.

Adding a bit of moisture, you fold, cut, and shape three sheets of vellum into a chubby bumblebee origami.

Making the origami gently 'buzz' it's way into the krokani's hands, you give a chubby bumblebee origami to Valensandr Paavik.

Valensandr Paavik laughs with a snort. "That is true," he shares. He picks up the origami dragon, "Hopefully my folding skills will sharpen soon. It will be fun to send origami rather than simple letters in the future."

Bizirik's head begins to droop. It opens its great maw and curls back its lips to allow its forked tongue to unfurl as it yawns before snapping its mouth shut.

Your shoulders bunch as you let out a short giggle.

You face lights up as you smile brightly at Valensandr Paavik.

Enthusiastically, you say, "Practice! Just with all the things! And all the times! Will get really goodly soon too!"

Grinning toothily, you say to Valensandr Paavik, "Anyway, know are not trainings to-day and was -late- anyway, but, THANK you, yes." They puff their cheeks. "She must have lots of faiths in you to send you to train -me-, because am always having -many- problems."

You bounce up and down.

Golden shades radiate from your chest and your heart beats faster with newly-appeared determination.

Bizirik, the leothin rolls its eyes nearby, tail gently slapping the ground as it snuffles softly, then begins to  sniff pointedly at the wicker basket hanging off of Gurashi's pack, impatient.

Valensandr Paavik takes your given origami--the bumblebee, the leothin--in one hand, setting aside the dragon for now. "Aye. Practice--the thing that connects our swordtraining and vellum folding." And then, he blinks. His lid folding over his singular eye, reopening to reveal the hazel-gold iris. "Your problems. Have they accelerated, friend?"

You have emoted: Gurashi opens their mouth, then puzzles over the question, scrunching their nose. "I do not know." They look down at the krokani, blinking. "Not -obviously- bad. Have been no new developments." They pause thoughtfully. "And ...think someone told me once... that, no news is goodly news?"

Valensandr Paavik shakes his head in disagreement. "Only good news is good news. In the arts of war, no news only means your opponent is gathering strength, is seeking something to cut you more deeply."

Valensandr Paavik says, "If there are no new developments, that is fine. But that only means that the threat remains."

You think to yourself: *swirling recollection - the lumbering Glomdoring man's voice, so close to their ear, breath making the hairs on your neck rise, drawing the line through the heart... why did agree to make a deal with him? a mental smack to the face - but...*.

You have emoted: Gurashi's smile withers slowly at this, the confusion creeping into concern as they study Valensandr Paavik's expression, consider his grave tone. "Oh." They respond, soft.

You think to yourself: *another fleeting recollection - Her kelpie approaching you, thanking you for the tart...asking about Aknarin, oh NO right THAT task, the Glomdoring, Her misunderstanding, someone else's lie - a ripple of white overtakes the color, terror beating birdlike in their chest, quickly passing, washed out with saffron - ...these lesson would not help with that, a thoughtful internal 'hoom'*.

Valensandr Paavik's expression changes as he sees you deflate. "... I am certain that things will be all right," he offers, attempting to change course.

You huff, puffing your cheeks.

You have emoted: Gurashi bobs their head once strongly at this, looking back up.

You have emoted: Cheeks still puffed, Gurashi smiles, bouncing in their spot. "Is why am training, yes."

Releasing their silly expression, you say, "So can at least be a little ready, if have to be. Only if have to be!"

Valensandr Paavik nods. "Then we shall ensure that you are ready," he remarks. "I will be sure to have something here next month for you for additional training."

You have emoted: Gurashi's face lights back up, and they laugh. "Ah, will be back earlier than this months. Will be around basically all months." They wave a hand, "Will probably be swimming in the seas, gathering -squids-, or... making foods? Probably one of the two. Will be ready!!"

You flail about helplessly.

Clasping their hands together, you say to Valensandr Paavik, "Many thank yous! Thank yous so muchly!"

A smile cuts across Valensandr Paavik's face. "You are most welcome, Gurashi. I'll be sure to send you a letter when all things are in order."

Valensandr Paavik says, "Hopefully, it won't get to you while you are swimming. I don't think I have any water-impervious ink."

You stare blankly into space.

Bright and clear, you say, "Mmm, uhm."

Bright and clear, you say, "Oh."

You have emoted: Gurashi frowns. "I will do my best." They look about the rookery, squinting. "C...can... can these birds... dive?" They ask, voice rising an octave in concern. "Or swims..."

You fret over everything that might go wrong.

You think to yourself: *envisioning a pigeon swimming down to the ocean's depths to find them - what the actual heckity*.

Valensandr Paavik pulls his attention to the many, many birdcages. The krokani seems to have ignored their squawkings this entire time, for indeed, they are a chorus of trills, twitters, calls, and croons. "No, I do not think many of these do. But I can always be sure to send a gull."

Your shoulders bunch as you let out a short giggle.

You have emoted: Gurashi seems overtaken by some mental image, scrunching their face in delight, shoulders shaking. "O-K, please send someone who can swims just in case." They wriggle a finger near one of the roosting creatures, moving towards the stairs. "Do need any things of -me- before go? Are doing lots for -me-."

"Of you?" Valensandr Paavik thinks for a moment. "My only suggestion would be to save your strength for next month. And I will be certain to send someone who can swim."

Outside, the snarl of some beast echoes loudly and causes the birds to grumble and shudder with concern.

You have emoted: Gurashi glances about, just as startled by the birds as they stir and settle. "O-K, O-K. I will do that. I will go to bed...-right now-," They insist, finding the stairs and descending, only to stop and scramble back to the top. "I will be off then! Thank you so muchly! Stay goodly - stay kind!" They stand up straight, saluting.

Returning the salute, Valensandr Paavik says, "Take care, Gurashi."

You wave goodbye.

At the bottom of a watchtower.
Rings of stone fit together to form the walls of this watchtower, which ascends several stories before stopping at a distant, topmost floor; to reach this height, a wooden staircase crawls the perimeter of the tower, the treads held in place by a lattice of rails and balusters with no riser in sight. But here, at this lower level, the circular room is nothing too impressive. It is a storage room, and it is filled with boxes nailed shut; boxes empty and awaiting stores; racks of shields, weapons, and wine bottles; and anything else that an army might need tucked away for safe-keeping. Ensconced candles illuminate the space, some burning against the stone of the walls and while others along the stair posts. Red-hued dust covers the hardwood floors, blown in from the doorway and in need of being swept. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground.
You see exits leading southwest and up.

You beam broadly at Bizirik, the leothin.
Perking up, Bizirik, the leothin begins to chitter and thrum, its tail sweeping back and forth across the ground. It cranes its neck to gently headbutt your side contentedly.

Bright and clear, you say to Bizirik, the leothin, "O-K, you heard hims. Gotta keep up up strengths."

Bizirik, the leothin narrows her eyes at you in an unnerving manner.

Bright and clear, you say to Bizirik, the leothin, "...carry me home!"

You have emoted: Gurashi moves to vault onto the leothin's back, but the creature side-steps, causing the human to stumble. "Oh do -not- be cute now, is ORDERS--" The leothin chatters mid-statement, breaking into a run ahead of the human, "--from a persons who is doing a FAVORS for a DIVINES!"

Bizirik, the leothin chatters excitedly, running in a wide circle until Gurashi eventually catches up, wheezing. "You thinks," They slap the creature's haunches lightly, "are SO FUNNY. Am telling," They boop the leothin on the snoot, scrambling into the saddle and slumping forward. "You are costing me years."

Bizirik, the leothin snorts, pleased.

<-- poof!