Cameraderie

It didn't take long for the atmosphere at the campfire party to become more relaxed and comfortable.

They were conversing in a casual banter, making jokes and bringing up topics on politics and mythical creatures that inhabit the realm.

Amidst the banter and laughter, the topic took a spicy turn as the men delved into the realm of harpy lore. The fat acolyte, never one to miss an opportunity, shared a peculiar fact that elicited a mix of disbelief and amusement.

"You know what they say?" the fat acolyte began mischievously, capturing everyone's attention.

Aden raised an eyebrow, curious to hear what peculiar tale the aspiring scholere had concocted this time.

"What?" he replied, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

"Harpies procreate by having a man lay with them," the fat nerd proclaimed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

A burst of laughter erupted from the group, some dismissing the claim as mere jest, while others entertained the notion. Aden turned to the fat acolyte, an incredulous expression on his face.

"You're kidding, right?" Aden challenged, hoping for a more rational explanation.

But the scholere-to-be stood his ground, his confidence unwavering. "Actually, it's true," he insisted. "Harpies are all female, and the texts speak of their unique method of procreation."

"After mating with men they would eat them," Gilbert added more facts about harpy.

The men exchanged amused glances, their disbelief tempered with a sense of intrigue. Rumors of the harpies' alluring nature had circulated, whispered in the taverns, and heard in the tales of old.

"Harpies love to eat innards, men." The old man couldn't help but be included in the discussion. He made the group frightened by sharing either rumors or unconfirmed facts, "Especially human innards. they would swoop at you in two or three individuals. grab you and bring you to their nest to be eaten or they would tear you in half with their claws while you were airborne, sending your two pieces hurtling through the sky to an agonizing demise as you plummet to the ground."

The old man delighted in seeing the fear on the party's faces.

"You know what they say also?" the old man added in, raising his bottle of wine with a smirk playing on his lips. The men were waiting for what came next from his mouth.

"Mating with a harpy is the most wonderful experience a man could ever dream of." The old man described vividly with a wicked smirk on his perverted face.

Aden shook his head in disbelief, unsure of how much of the conversation was rooted in reality and how much was embellished for the sake of mirth.

The old drunk, never one to shy away from spicy conversation, interjected with a hearty laugh. "If the prettiest prostitute were to be given a virgin body, they still couldn't outmatch a harpy in bed."

The men roared with laughter, the cold wind of winter unable to dampen their spirits. It seemed the old drunk had a knack for livening up even the dreariest of moments.

Ser Parcival, the wagon driver knight, who had been silent all along, finally spoke up with a hint of skepticism. "Is this why you eagerly took this job, old man? To have a shot at least with one of the harpies?"

A mischievous glint sparkled in the old man's eyes. "Damn right, I am," he declared boldly, "I'm gonna get myself laid with a harpy before I draw my last breath and it's gonna be magical."

"You overestimate yourself, old man. I don't think even the harpies would see you as a mating material." Ser Parcival made a huge comeback at the old man.

The old man grunted, it seemed like he didn't like being undermined by the knight, "Do not underestimate me, young man. You know I have—,"

"A strength of a thousand men in bed," Ser Parcival and the other Regalyon knights all spoke in unison before the old man could finish his sentence, their eyes rolled with amusement in jest. They were mocking him with their shared inside joke.

"Yeah yeah, we get it, old man." Now Ser Gareth, the strong muscular knight with a shaved head let himself into the banter. It seemed like he had heard the old man say the same thing countless times.

A wave of laughter mixed with disbelief swept through the group, yet one voice cut through the jesting banter.

"You do realize they're likely to eat you afterward, right?" Gilbert asked the old man.

Undeterred, the old man chuckled, unfazed by the cautionary remark. "That's a risk I'm willing to take," he replied with a gleam of determination in his eyes. "Besides, who's to say a harpy wouldn't find me irresistible? Look at myself! Even Lady Light would beg to have me in her chamber."

"You don't look like someone who has a place to stay in the first place, let alone a chamber, old man," Victor added up the joke, unable to help himself. He pointed out the haggard appearance of the sapeur old man who resembled a beggar on the street of Lyondyn.

Laughter erupted once again, punctuating the crisp air. The group found amusement in the old man's audacity and his unwavering confidence in his abilities to please. But amidst the jesting, the underlying camaraderie and acceptance prevailed.

As the banter continued among the party, the old drunk couldn't resist sharing a crude joke about the harpies. With a mischievous grin on his face, he leaned in and whispered the punchline to Aden and the others.

"You know," he began, his voice tinged with amusement, "the first part of a man that a harpy eats after they've laid with him...is his manhood!"

The party burst into laughter, their boisterous voices echoing through the chilly air. Aden couldn't help but chuckle, appreciating the old drunk's attempt at humor amidst the seriousness of their mission.

Curiosity piqued, the fat nerd Acolyte leaned in closer, a hint of intrigue on his face. "Is that really true?" he asked, his eyes glimmering with a mix of scholarly curiosity and a touch of mischief.

The old drunk shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, lad, I suppose you'll have to find out for yourself if you ever get lucky enough with one of them."

The group erupted into laughter once again, their camaraderie growing stronger with each passing jest.

⁕⁕⁕

as the party exchanged stories, Aden saw a figure emerge from the woods and looked like he wasn't alone.

It was Maeda, the top-knotted prisoner back from doing his nature business by the woods, everyone looked at him in shock. Not because he chose not to flee or anything but because he brought something with him hanging on both of his hands, something that looked human, something lifeless.

*Thump!

"Whoa! What the hell," Victor, the flamboyant prisoner, was startled when Maeda casually dropped two child-like dead bodies right next to him.

What Maeda just did bewildered the prisoners altogether. a commotion among the prisoners surrounding the campfire soon took place.

Corporal Knightly was discussing some matters with Captain Willem when he saw Kazama drop something near the campfire.

The corporal rose from his place. He went closer to the prisoners, who were looking confused, to try and figure out what was causing the disturbance.

The crackling campfire shed some light on the child-like corpses that Maeda had dropped near it. They were about 4 feet long and had tan-colored skin.

They were goblins, two dead goblin bodies.

"Captain Willem!" Corporal Knightly called for his captain immediately.

Captain Willem walked closer to the goblin's bodies to check on them. They are wearing some human leather pauldron and wristband while totally naked under the animal hide cloak.

Goblins are ugly human-like creatures the size of a pre-puberty boy with long, beak-like noses and wide-pointy ears. Their teeth were malformed and crooked, and they often went about naked with a long thick patch of beard-like pubic hair covering their genitals.

"Hmm.." He crouched before the two goblin corpses and observed them.

"What is it, captain?" Corporal Knightly asked, this is his first time to encounter goblins as they are rarely seen in the capital city's greater area where he spent most of his time serving the empire.

"Goblin scouts." Captain Willem replied shortly.

Captain Willem turned to Kazama, "Where do you find them? how many did you see?"

"Lurking in the woods I find them, there are only two of them I believe," said the top-knotted prisoner. his common tongue was fine but the sentence structure was usually in passive form and jumbled, showing him that he is not coming from the Wessen continent nor Median, but from the Essen continent where the majority of them are yellow-skinned people.

"If we let down our guard a bit, these goblins would poison us in our sleep," Ser Cedric, one of the recon knights, spoke to Captain Willem.

"Aye, and good job samurai," Captain Willem complimented Maeda.

"verily we should take turns to watch, we can't afford the cargo to be stolen, or worse..us getting poisoned by them," said Captain Willem in an alarming tone.

"Harpies and wyverns in the sky, goblins and wolves on the ground. This mountain range territory never ceased to amuse me," sighed Captain Willem. "We should be ready."

In the depths of the night, the air seemed to vibrate with otherworldly energy. Faint, eerie sounds of giggles and flutters filled the air as if a host of mysterious avian creatures flitted through the darkness. Their presence remained elusive, their intentions unknown.

the party remained vigilant as the moon cast an ethereal glow upon the land Throughout the night.

the prisoners rested in alerted position, circling the campfire. ready for anything that will come up to them.

The recon knights, seasoned and disciplined, took turns standing watch, their focus unwavering. None of them dared to close their eyes, for even a moment's lapse could spell danger.

In the night's symphony of whispers, howls, and eerie laughter, the knights kept a watchful guard. Every minute felt like an eternity as they were on alert for any sign of danger. Despite fatigue, they stayed dedicated to their mission and protecting their comrades.

Aden, the foreign prisoner, stirred from his slumber, a hushed whisper reached his ears, carried on the restless night breeze. He turned his gaze towards the old man, his weathered features contorted with worry, tossing and turning in his troubled sleep. The flickering firelight cast dancing shadows across the wrinkled lines etched upon his face.

"Lororis," The old man's voice trembled, his words escaping in fragmented whispers. He clutched onto a half-empty wine bottle, seeking solace in its intoxicating embrace. The sound of liquid pouring into a cup broke the silence, as he sought to drown his troubled thoughts with each desperate sip.

Aden watched, a mix of concern and curiosity swirling within him, as the old man's slumber was haunted by a name, a plea for forgiveness that lingered in the air like an unanswered prayer. The weight of guilt seemed to burden the old man's soul, his troubled sleep revealing fragments of a past filled with regrets.

"Forgive me," another word escaped the old man's lips in a sorrowful whisper, laden with an indescribable sorrow. Aden wondered what memories tormented the old man's dreams, what actions weighed heavy upon his conscience. The wine, both a temporary balm and a numbing agent, offered little respite from the ghosts that haunted his sleep.

Everyone has their own demons and nightmares inside of them.

In the dim light of the dying embers, Aden contemplated the enigmatic scene before him. The old man's murmurs held a sense of longing and remorse, leaving Aden with unanswered questions that stirred within his own thoughts.

What secrets did the old man carry, hidden beneath the surface of his troubled slumber? And who was Lororis, the name that echoed through the night?

The dancing flames cast a flickering orange glow across the camp, shadows twisting and writhing in a macabre pantomime. In their fickle light, Aden, the foreign prisoner's youthful features were thrown into stark relief - reddish skin seeming to smolder, high cheekbones casting severe angles. His eyes, lost in the hypnotic lick of the fire, betrayed an inner turmoil at odds with his attractive exterior.

Goblins, harpies, wyverns...the dire faces of their foes paraded through his mind in grotesque reverie. Across the small ring of captives, one of the men tended to a makeshift grill, slow-roasting slabs of beef jerky over the coals. The aroma, rich and savory, should have been a balm to the senses. Instead, it dredged up memories more horrific than any nightmare.

He could see them again, clear as the day it happened - three wyverns, their scales glittering crimson in the sunlight as they banked on leathery wings. Their shadows had heralded doom, a darkness that blotted out all hope as they descended upon the battlefield in a storm of fire and madness.

The thunderous report of their earth-shaking wingbeats mingled with the screams of the dying as gouts of flame immolated soldiers where they stood. Within moments, the entire battlefield was transformed into an abattoir, smoke and charred flesh hanging in a noxious pall.

The young prisoner remembered being trapped, surrounded by a roaring wall of fire that blocked all escape as it consumed man and provision alike with indiscriminate hunger...

A tremor wracked his body, tearing him from the waking nightmare as he gazed into the campfire's depths. He could smell the cloying reek of burned human flesh - his nostrils still assaulted by the ghosts of that terrible day. His hunger was forgotten, an emptiness gnawing at his core that no amount of jerky could ever hope to sate.

As the first rays of dawn painted the horizon in shades of gold, the old man's restlessness subsided, his troubled sleep finally giving way to a semblance of tranquility. Aden left to ponder the mysteries that surrounded the old man's troubled dreams.

As the night wore on, the knights' steely resolve held strong. The ominous sounds gradually receded, giving way to the hushed stillness of predawn. The first rays of sunlight painted the horizon, casting a golden hue upon the land. It was a testament to their unwavering dedication, their unity as a group, and their determination to safeguard one another in the face of unknown perils.

⁕⁕⁕