Poor Lin looked heartbroken when it seemed that Goblinda didn't recognize her. She seemed to have forgotten everything. 

Morthil could tell that Lin probably needed comfort. He was beginning to make his way over to Lin when he was snatched off the ground and found himself in the goblins arms again. 
"Listen this isn't necess—" his sentence was cut off because Goblinda was holding him quite tightly.
His ears laid back, he gave Goblinda the most exasperated side eye he could.
"I am most certainly not hers! I am my own man....cat....thats besides the point!" 
Then he remembered that she's probably been through a lot worse. She was close to death. She was the reason he was alive. 
"Do you...remember anything? The village...the goblins...you actually rescued me," Morthil explained, gratefulness in his voice. Maybe telling her what had happened would help jog her memory. 
"And then your friend Lin nursed us back to health. You were close to death."
Morthil looked at Lin. 
"Do you know if anything was left of my village?"

"Wait a minute, 6 or 7 years...so she's not a kid then? I thought she was a kid." 

Morthil, as soon as Goblinda loosened her grasp, shot out of her grip and hit the ground hard. 


He groaned and slowly stood up, gingerly stretching each paw with the exception of his injured one. 
He then tried to shift again. 
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Wonderful.
Goblinda also had fallen to the floor, and he glanced at her with concern. 

"Are you alright?" He asked, his minor indignation from before completely forgotten.
But she seemingly didnt recognize Lin. Or remember anything. 
"Is that normal? Has that ever happened before?" Morthil worriedly asked.

Morthil listened to her story with a lot of sympathy.
"I'm so sorry that happened to you...seems that Goblinda has helped a lot of people."
"My clan...it was close knit, but very strict on customs and tradition. I-I pushed the village witch doctor too far. He had a short fuse, I shouldn't have done what I did..." Morthil trailed off, regretful of the past. 
"So how long have you and Goblinda known each other, then?"
"It's ok....not many people I've met have even heard of the type of magic I was cursed with...someday I hope to find a cure—all of a sudden, he felt Goblinda bite him AGAIN! But this time on the head.
Wonderful. He desperately wanted to clean his head.
He let out a very strong, long string of his clan language, cursing up a storm.
"Excuse me," he apologized to Lin.
And then, half out of retaliation and half out of desperation, he bit her arm. Hard enough to hopefully wake her up. 

Morthil sighed, sulkily lying in the goblin's grasp with eyes that looked ready to murder someone. 

"She can do what now?" Morthil incredulously asked.
"Practically heal herself by taking a bath? Why doesn't she just carry around an empty barrel and pray to the gods that it's raining."
Despite his outwardly annoyed and potentially ticked off demeanor, inwardly he thought the goblin that had him in an iron grip was cool. He wasn't about to say that though. 

Linda came back with two steaks and Morthil really hoped one was for him.
Luckily one was.
"Thank you. For taking care of me and giving me food."
But now there was a problem. He only had one paw and the other was injured. 
He managed, and in between bites of steak he answered Lin's questions. He owed her that much at least.
"Oh? What gave it away besides the fact that I can talk in this dratted form?" Morthil wryly asked.
"You are correct, I'm not human either. I...well...I'm an elf. When I was younger I was a prankster...too much of a prankster, for I got cursed to shift into the form of the creature I hate the most...a cat." 
Morthil finished the steak but not the bone, and started to clean his paw the best he could. 
"I had finished a job in that last village and laid low for a couple of months...seems I attract trouble wherever I go."

Morthil shot the lady a withering glare when he heard her giggle.

"You think she's attached?" He grumbled quite ticked off, his tail now moving agitatedly from side to side.

But his annoyance slowly faded when he heard what the girl had done to get here.
"She almost died—SHE CARRIED ME ALL THE WAY HERE?!"
He managed to turn his head enough to gaze at the sleeping goblin which was currently holding him captive.

"How long has she been, well...like this?" Morthil asked softly, turning inquiringly to look at Lin.
"No way. I don't believe it. I slept for three days?!" He believed that she did.
From what Lin said, the girl almost killed herself just walking here. 
If it's been three days...maybe...Morthil tried to shift again. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Was he stuck as a cat now, forever—his thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of the goblin moving alittle, and then feeling teeth sink into his neck. Not deep, but enough that he could feel it.
"Oh HELL NO!" Morthil yelled, half out of shock and half out of indignation. The goblin just flat out bit him! 
"Nuh uh, I'm not about to let myself get eaten by a goblin that's SLEEPING!"
Lin managed to pry the goblin's teeth off of him. 
Morthil was staring daggers at Lin.
"Is this a normal thing? She compulsively eats in her sleep?! And why was she trying to eat ME?!"
His tail whacked the goblin hard, out of protest. 
He had stopped trying to get out of the goblin's grasp, and now, with much exasperation and resignation, just laid there, nerves ready to snap and the exasperation evident on his feline face.
"So...." Morthil, after much contemplation, asked. 
"How long is she going to sleep for?"
His eyes drifted to the food.
His stomach growled. He himself hadn't eaten in at least 4 days.

Morthil tired himself out. And then someone came through the door. He stiffened, not knowing who this person was either.

He hissed at her at first, trying to keep up the illusion of just a stray cat. But this lady saw right through it. 
How did she know...then the lady mentioned tending to Morthil's paw.
"I do thank you, it feels slightly better. Although it is hard to tell, I haven't walked on it since because I've been stuck with this KID?!" Morthil's voice raised a few decibels at the last part. He was more frustrated at how strong the kid was than anything. 

"First question, where exactly am I?" Morthil asked, and then followed that up with "Who are you?"  His feline voice was soft, but still masculine. His emerald eyes glanced uneasily around the room, finally resting on the lady, who had introduced herself as Lin.

"My name is Morthil...Morthil Tyrion. I do wish we could have met under less..." Morthil searched for the right word "weird circumstances." The whole situation was rather hilarious, really. 

"I uh...I don't exactly know how I ended up here..." Morthil shifted again in the goblin's grasp, also realizing that the blasted goblin was drooling all over him. 
"Oh for the sake of catnip," he muttered to himself, and then remembered the question Lin had asked.
"Anyways, the village I had been residing in got attacked...I was captured by the attacking goblins and was almost," Morthil took a calming breath, "almost killed. And then this...this kid just shows up out of nowhere and rescues me."
He managed to get his uninjured paw free and whacked the sleeping goblin on the nose.
"Wake up!"
His tail twitched anxiously. He hoped this goblin was just as friendly as this other lady.

Morthil woke up with a disoriented groan. What had happened? He couldn't remember. Oh...the village...goblins....the village had been sacked...he had been captured. And killed...but no, he wasn't dead. Where was he , exactly? In the arms of some...goblin....no, that goblin kid, he realized as he woke up more. 
He noticed she had taken care of his paw. 
Very nice of her. Now to get up—oh no.
The kid had Morthil in a vice grip. 
"Oh come on," he muttered angrily to himself, seeming to notice his surroundings for the first time.
Where were they? 
The place was cozy, and comforting.
And the bed was soft. 
Morthil tried to wake the kid. He tried moving around, he tried growling, he tried yowling. Nothing was working.
So, his ears flattened in trepidation, he yowled again...loudly.

The goblins were going to kill everyone. And there wasn't a thing Morthil could do about any of it.
He heard the order relayed to kill all of them, dread settling in his chest and his heart racing.
The pressure of the blade lightened-no, left his neck completely. He waited for the blade to come back down and end his life, but somehow more chaos reigned. 
He felt something sharp graze the back of his neck, but with the startled cry he had heard he doubted that was purposeful.

....A goblin....KID?!

Morthil had to concentrate on the task at hand. Which was escaping. 
The ropes were tied so tight his wrists were raw just from the rough rope chafing against his wrists. 
With great difficulty he rolled onto his side. The goblins all seemed to be concentrated on her. Which was good. 
Morthil tried to push all of the thoughts out of his head. He'd shifted too much already today. If he shifted again he could be stuck longer than he liked....but he didn't have a choice. 
He shifted, the pressure of the rope fading as he changed into cat form. 
Morthil gingerly took a step forward on his cat paws. He favored his front right leg...where to go? 
That goblin girl had introduced herself as goblinda...Morthil wrinkled his nose. But she was a kid! Kids had no business being out of the house, let alone on a battlefield! But...his leg was hurt. Not having much of a choice, Morthil continued walking Goblinda's way, before stopping in front of her. 
"Uh...kid—i mean goblinda—where's the rest of your tribe...." Morthil winced as he accidentally put weight on his paw, his orange tail anxiously twitching behind him.
He had shifted too much and pushed himself too hard. If she answered he didn't hear her, for he swayed twice and then collapsed right in front of her, utterly exhausted.

Olwyn took a bath, sighing with relief. Finally she didn't smell like an abomination. 
It dawned on her then what Fletch had said. He wanted to leave tonight?!?!
He was probably right though. They couldn't afford to sleep. 
So she went into the room and fixed herself as best as she could so she didn't look like she had just practically swam in a sewer, then, sighing, opened the door. 
"You're right," she half grumbled to Fletch. 
"We should leave now, before—"
A commotion out in the tavern sounded. 
The guards had found them.

After Morthil's last mission had almost got him killed, he settled in a small village nestled in the foothills of the Thunderblacks. Away from trouble. Nice and quiet, and with a beautiful view, to boot. 
Morthil had been in this village for a month. He was tempted to retire early. There was only one problem. 
See, sometimes, Morthil stopped being Morthil and became a cat. Much to the absolute chagrin and detestation of himself.
Then it was blasted kids chasing him all over the village, Morthil escaping by the hair on his back and then sitting on a roof glaring at the blasted things.
Then he'd carefully climb back down only to be startled by some old lady (how did she know he was up there in the first place) cooing at him and offering his cat self a bowl of milk. 
The last couple of days, Morthil had been perched on top of the village watchtower. 
It was so peaceful and nice.
Until all hell broke loose.

Of course it had to be goblins. 
Morthil slid down the watchtower and hit the ground running, quickly ducking into an alleyway and shifting back into elf form. 
He hurriedly grabbed his sword and started to run out of the alleyway, before something in a puddle of water on the ground caught his eye. 
"Are you kidding me?"
His cat ears had not shifted, comically leaving him stuck with cat ears.
Suddenly, a loud explosion shook the whole town. The ground vibrated violently beneath Morthil's feet.
He peeked out of the alleyway and was met with absolute chaos.
There were goblins everywhere.
Suddenly he felt himself shrinking.
"Really?! Right now? Come on!" He chided himself, before finding him back in cat form.
He was exasperated for all of two seconds before he shrugged, picking the closest goblin and launching himself at the goblins face.
"Pick on someone your own size, you vertically challenged piece of green meat!" Morthil yelled, shocking the goblin for two reasons. One, cats don't normally talk, and two, Morthil had a mean set of claws. The goblin tried to fight him off and Morthil scratched him again before jumping off of the goblin and running away.
The horde of goblins worked scarily fast. Soon, the town was ablaze, and there were just too many for the villages hunters to deal with. 
Morthil found himself cornered in an alleyway, four goblins had him trapped against a dead end. 
For a while Morthil was able to cause chaos, but then the goblins figured out it was a cat that probably normally is not a cat and chased Morthil. 

Morthil looked around the alley way with wide eyes. He truly was trapped. He didn't think he had the energy for another shift. 
It just might work...
"You might want to sit down," he advised the goblins, before he started shifting in front of them. As soon as he was fully into his elf form he ran.

He utilized their shock to push past them and make a run for it. 
Until he ran right into another goblin, who knocked him out and dragged him into the town square. 
Morthil awoke flat on the ground, his face pressed into the dirt, his hands tied behind his back and the feeling of cold steel on the back of his neck. 
The goblins were going to kill him.

QUICK STATS


NAME
Circe

Age
24

Gender
Male

Sexuality
Pansexual....probably

Species
Human

Height
5'8

Occupation 
Mage

Residence
Serendipity


IN-DEPTH STUFF

Physical Description
Circe is 5'8, lithe and generally athletic. Circe has got brown eyes that seem to sparkle, and they kind of are reminiscent of doe eyes. His skin is lightly tanned.
He wears a white tunic, with tan pants, brown leather boots, and a leather belt with a few potions. Accessorizing his clothes are two leather brown shoulder pauldrons. Not because he fights. Far from it, actually, he's never killed someone before. Or harmed someone. He just wears them because they were cool and he saw them at a merchant stand and had to buy them. 
Circe's hair is sandy brown and slightly wavy; and he keeps it cut shoulder length.
His staff is an enchanted green and silver rod, and he can activate it to be longer if needed. He wears two silver chains for jewelry, and wears several simple silver bands on his hands. 

Personality
"Diamonds, if you think about it, are just polished coal." 
Circe has got this innocence to him. He sees the best in people and genuinely believes that even the worst people can be redeemed.
He's shy, and doesn't go around telling people he's a mage. Which can result in some funny situations when he just casually whips out his staff when he thinks people aren't looking. 
Circe is slightly religious, believing in some higher power, for how else could he have gotten his magic? That's what he thinks anyways. 
Circe is scared to death of dragons. He's never seen one and does not plan to. 

Magic/Abilities
Circe is a mage, and can heal significant, fatal, and minor injuries.  He doesn't know this yet but he can also use his magic to fight. (Good luck getting him to do that lol)

Pyla was concernedly quiet the entire journey back to their home base. 
When they got back, Pyla took care of her camel, and then headed to her room. Her arm was throbbing.



Once Pyla got to her own room, she practically collapsed onto her bed, letting her knapsack just fall onto the floor.  Anger was building in her.
She just wanted to scream at herself. She had failed. She had almost gotten both her and Jelani killed. And she lost a hand, potentially hindering her ability to fight. 
Pyla angrily sat up.
And then there were the relentless memories. 
She just wanted to forget the last few days.
She wanted to forget those awful men. She wanted to forget everything.  She let out an angry, painful yell. 
"I'm useless!" she angrily yelled to the empty room. Pyla stood up and grabbed her knapsack that had fallen on the floor and angrily launched it at the opposite side of the room, the knapsack hitting the wall with a crash. 
"Fucking USELESS!"
And she collapsed to her knees with an angry yell before breaking down into sobbing.


Zephyr had watched the whole thing happen and anxiously flew off to find Jelani.

It took everything within Kaela not to bolt for the den and just never come out of the den ever again. Only thing stopping her from doing that was the fact she had no idea how to get back without Raxta. 
So she walked quietly next to Raxta, the quietest she had ever been. 
Mentally Kaela was kicking herself. Why'd she have to go and say that? 

In the distance, thunder could be heard rumbling through the clouds, and the wind was beginning to pick up, whistling through the tops of the trees.

They got back to Raxta's den. Whether it was because of the impending thunderstorm or because the sun had sunk low enough to cast the jungle into shadowy dusk, it was now quite dark. Occasional flashes of lightning could be seen through the dense jungle foliage, and Kaela uneasily muttered a curse at whichever god chose to gift the jungle with a storm. She hated, absolutely hated thunder. 
Kaela ducked inside of the den and stood near the entrance, waiting while Raxta retrieved clothes. 
"I...I can sleep outside"—a loud crash of thunder interrupted her sentence, and Kaela jumped, right into Raxta's arms.

Kolara switched moods faster than Arlen could comprehend. 

"Who do you think you're talking to?"

Arlen's mouth hung slightly open in suprise.
"An angel that fell from heaven too hard?" He meekly offered in reply.

She told him to sit still and seemed like she was trying to mend his wing before she just passed out in his arms.
"Kolara!!!!" He anxiously checked her pulse. Her body was cold but she was still breathing. 

What could he do? He definitely wasn't going to try to use another one of her feathers. 
On the island....on Yoreiq where he had been exiled from...his village. He knew a friend there. A healer. Maybe his friend could help!
But that would require having to somehow find that boat again...so Arlen picked up Kolara in his arms as gently as he could, and set off for the shoreline.


By the time Arlen had made it to the shore, a full day had passed and it was night again. He was exhausted. He carefully set Kolara down in the small boat and got in himself.
Across the channel between Le'Raana and Yoreiq he rowed, having to take occasional breaks and check on Kolara. 

Once he got on the Yoreiqi side he wanted to do nothing more than collapse and sleep for a very long time. He pulled on energy he didn't even know he had in him and got her out of the boat, and ran toward the Yoreiqi village. He could see his friends hut. Just a few more strides...one Yoreiqi guard on patrol saw the fleeting shadow and telltale wings of Arlen and quietly slunk off to report that the exiled assumed murderer was in the village.
 Arlen ran around to the back; he knocked and then didn't even wait, going inside anyways and laying Kolara's limp form the table. 

Irak was an old Yoreiqi, the ex-village healer who was now seen as a bit of a crazy insane person by the village. 
Irak came into the kitchen, having heard Arlen knock.  "Arlen Id recognize that knock anywhere—mother of trees what happened to you? We thought you had died!!"
And then his gaze fell on Kolara.
"A Phoenix-kin...is it alive?" He asked in wonder, stepping closer to it. 
"You really shouldn't be here...if the village finds out they'll kill you!"
"She's my friend-got in a fight with gigantic serpentine monsters, I've never seen the like of it!"  Arlen swayed on his feet. His wing hurt.

Irak concernedly looked over Kolara. 
""How is she alive still..."
Arlen didn't even hear Irak's question. He fainted out of exhaustion. 
 
Irak tutted and moved Arlen off of the floor and into the living room onto the couch. 


Meanwhile the guard had reported the supposed sighting of Arlen and now five guards were on their way to Irak's house. 

Kkärsvig's eyes went wide as he saw the carnage in medical.
Kkärsvig muttered something in the language of his people before rushing over to Elara, trying not to panic. He had left her here. He had abandoned her. His breathing quickened before he got ahold of himself, seeing Fletcher put a hand to Elara's neck, seemingly searching for a pulse.
"Oh gods...she's dead isn't she..." and then his eyes landed on Fenris. Fletch was a step ahead of him, and was already telling him to help him turn her over.
He dropped to his knees beside Fletcher and set his frying pan down that he was still holding.
"Aye, I can help," his voice was tinged with sadness. He cared for Elara...he saw her as a daughter.

He helped Fletcher turn Fenris onto her back.

"Erm...I don't know much about medicine...but she don't look good..."

Fenris was still in her shifted form. Fenris's chest wasn't moving at all, and her eyes were frozen open, staring blankly at nothing. Blood leaked from her mouth. Her pupils however, had changed into eclipses, a strange light emitting from behind her pupils, giving her eyes a sort of ringed light effect.
Kkärsvig looked around.
In the chaos, the map that Elara had been so obsessed with had landed on the ground, and despite being soaked in blood, had the same eclipse on it, and was slightly glowing. Just enough to look unnatural.
——————————————————

The fighting on deck had stopped. Much of the ship deck was stained red.

Aikios meanwhile, had spotted Nik and made a beeline for him, murderous intent in his eyes.
"Oh Nik...Elara I always knew was a fool but you?" Aikios laughed. A cruel, taunting laugh.
"You I thought would figure it out. You seemed like a smart one but what can I say?" Aikios shrugged.
"Birds of a feather I guess," and then he lunged at Nik, intent on ending his life.

Morthil flattened his ears and hissed at the man, nervously backing away towards the tent flap. 
How did the man figure it out so fast? He had to get out of there.

Pyla gratefully took the tea, slowly sipping it.
The tea tasted bitter but had a slightly sweet aftertaste. Pyla wrinkled her nose at the taste but finished it, setting the cup down carefully on the side table. 
The tea seemed to put Pyla to sleep, and she slept till the next morning. Pyla woke up with a start, the intense pain in her injured arm having faded to a dull ache. 
She felt much better. 
"I think....I think this is as good as I'm going to feel," Pyla quietly said, before sitting up and forcing herself to swing her legs over the side of the bed. 
"Thank you for the tea...and for taking care of me." 
"If you'll just lead, I think I can walk." 

"I don't think so...." Kaela said cautiously.

She looked down at the ground and rubbed the back of her neck.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything," Kaela quietly said. 
Would Raxta hate her now? Did Raxta hate her now?  
She didn't know anything about the culture Raxta was from.  

Arlen worriedly looked at Kolara. Coughing up blood was never a good thing.
"Are you sure you're alright?"

Arlen cautiously moved his injured wing, and winced at the spike of pain that shot through his wing.
"It's been better. It's fine." He tried to shrug it off but it was quite clear that it was not fine.

"Can you stand? Or do you need help? We need to get somewhere...less out in the open." Somewhere where they could heal better. Arlen did not like being out on a wide plain like this. He felt exposed.

Vae stood up to his full height.
"It's none of your business what it is!" Vae snapped, visibly irritated.
He took an angry step towards her before he stopped, trying to get ahold of himself.
"Look, that has been in my family for generations," Vae lied, his horns subtly growing as he spoke.
"I would get in huge trouble if I lost that."
Vae had a knife in his right hand that he had drawn. He was keeping it hidden. For now.
"Look...just hand it over, and I'll forget you ever even bumped into my table."