@Zealatom, I get it now. No worries, you explained fine! Poor Kalarix, though :(

Zara watched the boy closely. He seemed to be reviving; color was coming slowly back to his face, and his voice was steadier. But she got the feeling he wasn't very comfortable, to say the least. And then he said he didn't remember pounding at the door. And then - most surprising of all - he said he was a Nobyl.

"Kalarix pur Westchoice!" Alnair stiffened. "You're a Nobyl, then?"

"How can you be one?" Rialtas asked, puzzled. "Nobyls don't go around in pine forests in the middle of nowhere."

"Let him be!" Zara turned to her brothers. "He's probably just lost. It's lucky for him he found our cottage, it's so cold and snowy outside. Kalarix - would you like something to eat?"

"Yes, bring him some of that extra stew,"  Astrakhan said before Kalarix could reply.

Zara gave Kalarix a quick smile and went into the tiny kitchen. It was lined with beautifully carved cabinets of dark wood, and there were white lacy curtains at the windows. The only light came from the candles that were dotted around the room, but she knew where everything was. 

As her hands opened the cabinet door and lifted out a wooden bowl, her thoughts were scurrying everywhere like dry leaves in a strong wind. A Nobyl! A real Nobyl! It had been so long since she had seen any Nobyls but her family. Pur Westchoice... hmm. Hadn't one of her father's good friends been a Westchoice Nobyl? She frowned. Yes, she believed so. But what had happened to him...? Oh well, the point was that there was a Nobyl sitting in her living room, hungry and half-frozen, and goodness only knew why he had come. Flushed with excitement, she ladled the stew into the bowl and re-entered the living room. Phaedron was saying, "Tell us, Kalarix - what brings you here to our cottage?"

KIT--

"Fake names. We need fake names," Aakash said. He was riding on a caramel colored stallion, which seemed half-annoyed to have him as their rider. 

"You need a fake name," I corrected. "I don't. We've been over this."

He squinted at me, considering. Had he forgotten again that not everyone had as much of a reputation as he did? He was a Nobyl, and more importantly, a Nobyl so famously outcast from the rest of his family. I was merely a traveler. 

"Fine," he stated eventually, again bothered by this fact. I wondered if he was jealous of my simple ability to disappear and slide into the background, entirely free of even memory. I knew Aakash wasn't fond of speaking about his past, but I envied him just for having one. Because I was nearly thirty, but I only had a decade's worth of memories. Everything else had been lost.

"Are you going to use the same name as last time?" Our horses began to slow as we got closer to the cabin. Pine trees dotted the land, and there were still piles of snow in the shadows of them. 

"Yes," he said. "Harsith Kanan. And again, we're just travelers, who lost our homes in Paralia ten years ago."

"When Catastrophe took over," I finished. "I know the cover story. Let's go."

We tied our two horses over by a thick copse of trees and taiga grasses, where they'd have something to eat and could be warm. We didn't expect to take long, anyway, though we made sure the horses were in view of the cabin: just so we could reach them quickly, in case the need arised.

Being more talented with interpersonal skills, I took the lead. Aakash trailed just behind me as I knocked gently on the cabin door. "Hello? Is anyone home?" 

Kalarix~

Kalarix's eyes followed the young girl out of the living room and into a nearby dark room, upon which he lost sight of her. He glanced at the two boys remaining in the living room.

The cozy room itself had dropped somewhat visibly in temprature after he had pronounced his name, Kalarix noted. Both teenagers were staring at him rather defensively, but they looked more puzzled than anything. "How are you feeling now, Kalarix?" Kalarix turned his gaze back to the man, still standing where he was. There was a glimmer of something else in those dark eyes now, a faint shine as the man looked over Kalarix's face again.

"I-I'm feeling ok, sir...?" Kalarix attempted nervously, still trying to process what had happened. 

"Phaedron." Phaedron finished for him, a smile warming his grave features. "And these are Riatlas and Astrakhan." He nodded at the two teenagers, who nodded and waved back accordingly.

"Thanks." Kalarix tried to smile back, but it was done awkwardly, and he gave up after one falied try. "I can't really find words to express myself now, sorry..."

"Take it easy." The boy who Kalarix presumed to be Riatlas said, moving to a place closer to the fire. "How long have you been out there? Do you live near here? Is-" A gesture from Phaedron stopped him, but Kalarix could tell that he was full to bursting with questions. The elder, Astrakhan, was also fidgeting a bit at the side of the room. No doubt Phaedron had seen his sons's curiosity too, because he then opened his mouth. "Tell us, Kalarix - What brings you to our cottage?"

"Me?" Kalarix repeated, a thousand answers bursting into his mind like the yearly floodwaters. He really should think things more throughly when it came to names... "I lost my way in the woods while heading through them."

It was at that point the girl re-entered the living room, holding a fair-sized wooden bowl that was filled to its brim with stew. She cocked her head at Kalarix and handed it over, eyes wide with curiosity. "Thanks." Kalarix murmured, accepting it and warming his cold hands on it gratefully. And seeing that everyone was still waiting for him to continue, he exhaled. "I was passing by... and got lost in a snowstorm for two days. That's how I'm here."

"We did have quite the weather for these past days." The girl confirmed, nodding and sending her long hair bobbing back and forth. "Don't you have family? Why are you alone?" 

"Family? I -" Kalarix bit his lip as his vison clouded with scenes of battlefields and fortresses, cities and countryside. Hundreds of fragments, overlapping and fighting. 

He couldn't tell anything...  He couldn't tell anything apart...

"I - I can't say." He stammered, heart starting to thump like a drum.

"You can't say?" The girl glanced up at her brothers as if for help.

"N- I might!" Kalarix improvised. "But I'm not sure-"  He would have said something else, but a searing pain suddenly shot up his neck as the jade ring contracted for the second time. "Argh!"

"Kalarix!?" 

okay I'm finally back!!! Here's Tarava's part.

^Tarava^

Tarava glared impatiently out her window at the crowded streets of Evranel. Kalam should have been back ages ago. Days ago. Weeks ago. How could he spend that much time finding out just a few facts? And the real cause of her impatience, of course, was that she knew something might have happened to him.

A knock came at the door, and she whirled around. A quick glance in the little hand mirror on the wall told her that she was looking composed at least. "Come in."

The door opened, and a young or middle-aged man, not tall and not short, with a secretive, alive face and a way that made him seem as average as anyone could get, entered. "Kalam!" Tarava exclaimed. At last. "What made you tarry so long?"

Kalam shrugged. "These things are difficult to find out, Lady. And I took some precautions to not be discovered, thinking that to be the wisest course of action. But I got some of the information you desire, at least."

Kalam was not a Nobyl, but his family had been linked to the pur Lamours a while back and he was high-up in society, so there wasn't too much eyebrow-raising at Tarava's constant association with him. He was the only person, really, who knew about Tarava's efforts to help the Resistance, and being in sympathy with the Resistance himself, had paired up with her to find out what he could that might help her.

"Well? Tell me, Kalam, or I'll die of impatience!"

"That would be unadvisable," Kalam agreed. "Here is the news, then. From the pur Keteque side, it's certain, or almost certain, that Aakash is still alive. We need to get in touch with him - somehow. And Caladia, from the pur Matian family - I daresay you've heard of her. She might be persuaded to come to our side. I saw her myself."

"Kalam! You didn't!"

He smiled smoothly. "I found a good pretext, never fear. But that's uncertain. And I found more about Kalamix pur Westchoice."

"Oh, yes." Tarava sat down on the bed and looked up eagerly into her friend's face. "What have you found?"

"He's said to have committed suicide. But there seems to be some sort of evidence that he's really wandering around somewhere in Kyngdom, having hallucinations and wasting his time. If we could find him - "

"Yes. Kalam, there's so much to do! I haven't been wasting my time either. There was that Nobyl we heard something about - Phaedron - you remember?" Kalam nodded, and she continued. "I found out about him too. He and his family were chased off their land by Lord Helion, and they just disappeared. They'll surely be with the Resistance, if they're still alive. Kalam, find these people! if you can. I hate to send you away again, but I would appreciate it if you would look for them."

"Of course I will, Lady," Kalam replied. "I have all my life pledged to the Resistance, and I'll help you as long as you help me. I'll start immediately."

"Very well." Tarava accompanied him to the door of her room. "Look among the peasants - you never know which of them might by Nobyls in disguise. Reveal yourself where you deem it wisest. Look in the forests - that's a sure place for Nobyls to hide. But, Kalam, do be careful! I wish I could go with you," she added impatiently, "but I'm stuck here. Good luck!"

Gosh, it turned out long. Oh well :/ Hopefully Kalam, too, can come to Zara's hut. I'll post his form in another comment.

So I was going to post Kalam's form right after I posted Tarava's part but then I had to do something, so :/ Anyway, here it is. Also sorry for all the long posts, admins!

Name: Kalam

Pronouns: he/him

Age: middle-aged? Probably about thirty. I don't have his exact age worked out yet - it might be advisable to actually have him quite young, around Tarava's age, but I don't think so.

Appearance: Average height, secretive face, dark, alive eyes (as in eyes that are dark and alive), a way of "blending in" with a crowd of people and not being very noticeable, rather good-looking.

Personality: Like Tarava, he's able to easily adapt to any situation, and he can get along well with almost anybody. He's usually cool-headed, quick-thinking, and gifted with a fair amount of wit.

Strengths/weaknesses: He knows his way well over most of Kyngdom, and has several friends in good places. However, he isn't a Nobyl and has no magic powers or particular influence to exert.

Home: He also lives in Evranel, when he isn't traveling on errands for Tarava or for himself.

Which Nobyl family is he/she from?: n/a (he isn't a Nobyl - I wasn't planning to have him at all, but he came along and he's useful, so, there you go, he needs his character sheet)

Background: His grandparents were linked to the pur Lamour branch of the Nobyls, and were quite influential at one point. He is still more or less high-class, and though he has never had anything to do with Catastrophe etc. etc., he isn't suspected as being part of the Resistance. He decided to join the Resistance because his position has enabled him to see Catastrophe's cruelty, and also because he's dissatisfied with just sitting around letting other people do things. (He's a very "action" person)

Alright, time to finally remember to roleplay HA

Eon~

The air was crisp, like an apple that had been sunk in cold water. Eon took a deep breath of it and grinned at the moon. 

"What I wouldn't give to dance with her," Eon said as she let out a lighthearted sigh, "but alas she is the moon and I am merely a star."

"Are you done being melodramatic?" A passerby huffed. Eon didn't notice, and kept on waxing poetic.

"The lady of the night, ah, yes. I bet the Earth thinks himself the luckiest planet in the system to have such a dance partner as you."

Eon say down against a wall and brought out a bit of bread and cheese from her bag. A meager dinner, but a welcome one nonetheless. It was gone in a few minutes. Eon scuffed her hands together to get rid of the crumbs.

"That's the last of it, I'll have to perform again to afford breakfast tomorrow. I wonder if the villagers have anything against telekinetic artistry..."

~~

I don't know when this night is going to be over so I'll be on the lookout for the timezone lol 

Oops, it's now my turn to do some explaining. I was thinking of changing Phaedron's name to Astrakhan, so I called him that in my last part, but actually his name is still going to be Phaedron. Sorry for the confusion! Quick recap: Zara's father is Phaedron, her eldest brother is Alnair, and her next oldest brother is Rialtas (oh, and spelled with an "lt," not "tl" :) ). Again, I'm so sorry, that was completely careless of me :/

So, here's the next part.

-Zara-

Suddenly Kalarix gave a short gasp, his face tensing with pain.

"Kalarix?!" Phaedron didn't move. His keen gaze was fixed on the boy. "Are you all right?"

"Father, look," came a quiet voice from the corner of the room. Rialtas was standing there, an odd expression on his face. "Look at the ring. It's contracting."

Sure enough, on Kalarix's finger was a jade ring, looking quite inoffensive. Any Nobyl could have worn a jade ring. 

"I don't see anything odd about it," said Alnair, sounding puzzled.

"Well, it's stopped contracting now," replied Rialtas. He sat down next to Kalarix and looked straight into his eyes. "Kalarix. What does this mean? Are you under some kind of spell?"

At that moment came another knock at the door. 

"Oh lord," said Rialtas. "Not another guest."

"I'll answer it," Zara said quickly, and hurried over to the oaken door. At first it wouldn't open, and as her fingers fumbled with the lock, she wondered what was happening. Something seemed to warn her that this was no ordinary night.

For a moment she turned to look back at the firelit room. Alnair and Rialtas were still as stone, waiting for Kalarix's reply. Phaedron, her grave, gray-bearded father, stood by the fire, its light playing wildly over his features. He seemed absorbed in his thoughts, as he so often was. Zara felt a rush of love for her family, gathered together in what might be the last ordinary night of their lives. She could not have explaiend how she knew that her life was changing, that events were sliding and slipping together in new patterns. But she knew it. Resolutely she swung open the door.

Two men stood there; it was hard to see in the darkness of the night who they were. But they were richly dressed, and the taller one bore himself with the haughty, proud carriage of a Nobyl.

The man in the foreground spoke as soon as Zara opened the door. He sounded polite enough. "Hello. We're two travelers: My name is Kit, and that's Harsith. We're just looking to trade for some supplies," he said calmly. 

"Welcome, sirs," replied Zara, using the old formal way to greet guests. "If you will wait here a moment, I will inform my father of your coming." She turned back to the living room. "Father - a couple of traders have shown up."

Phaedron smiled and came forward. "Enter, enter, good sirs," he said, shaking them each by the hand. Whether he, too, felt suspicious of them, Zara couldn't say - her father was skilled at putting on whatever mood was suitable to the occasion. "My name is Phaedron, and I am a poor farmer living here in this cottage. We have have naught to trade, only a few poor crops and pine-wood - but guests are always welcome with us, and perhaps we can manage a bargain of some sort. Come in, and sit down."

He led the way into the house, but not into the living room where Kalarix was - he went into the tiny room at the back of the house that was used for formal business. So he did feel suspicious. Yes, that was the right move - after all, who could tell if they could be trusted? Or if Kalarix could be trusted, especially since he was a Nobyl? 

A murmur of voices started up from behind the closed door of the business room. Zara turned to close the door, but just then someone emerged from the evening shadows outside and brushed past her, through the doorway.

"Hey!" Zara gasped. "Who are you?"

The stranger turned to face her - and recognition shot through her. Back in her family's palace, so many years ago, there had been one tiny branch of the pur Zaraon family that her parents had been friends with - and that family had had two sons. She didn't recall their names anymore, but one of them - he had been about fifteen when she last saw him - had looked exactly like the boy who now stood before her. It wasn't so much the features in themselves, as the mischievousness in his eyes and the warm smile, that were so familiar. He had gray eyes, dark brown hair, and was rather good-looking - yes, that too was familiar. 

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he said, slightly irritated.

"You just - reminded me of someone," Zara returned.

"Of my older brother? Yes, that makes sense. Everyone always thinks I'm him, until they find out I'm not. Do you remember the pur Zaraon family at all?"

"Why should I remember them?" Zara asked coldly. Since she was a small girl she had been trained not to reveal that she was really a Nobyl, and that training stood by her now. "I am only a poor farmer's daughter."

"You don't believe I'm Arran pur Zaraon? Look."

He held out to her an obsidian carving, shaped like a tiny horse's head. Zara remembered that shape well. It had been the badge of Arran's branch of the pur Zaraon family, and every member had had one. There was a tiny scratch on the left ear.

"Don't you remember that scratch? My brother and I were playing with this horse figure - and it fell off the table and was scratched," Arran said, smilingly. "You were about six then. It was just before Lord Helion came."

"Yes, I do remember!" Zara decided to let down her guard. If Arran had that same horse talisman, he must be the same boy she remembered so well. "You were about six yourself."

"Seven," he corrected, laughing.

"Of course. But what brings you here? Did you come with your family?" How wonderful it was to have her old friend standing by her side again, after all these years - and how unbelievable. This whole evening had something unbelievable about it. 

"No, I came alone. Is your father anywhere on the premises? I was sent to talk with him."

"He's busy with a couple of traders. And my brothers are busy with another Nobyl."

Arran's eyes widened. "Another Nobyl?"

"Yes. Kalarix pur Westchoice. He just - knocked on the door and came in, and he seems ill. His thoughts seem to be wandering. I think he may have a fever, it's so cold outside, and he's not dressed warmly enough. I don't know what can have led him here..." She trailed off. "But you can tell me everything, and I'll tell it to Father later."

"All right," said Arran. "It's a long story, so make yourself comfortable."

-----------------------------------

Arran's sheet:

Name: Arran pur Zaraon.

Pronouns: He/him.

Age: 16 or 17

Appearance: Gray eyes, dark brown hair, rather roguish expression. Slightly on the slender side, though not thin. 

Personality: Very warm and caring, but also quick-thinking and resolute. He loves music. His self-esteem is at the Perfect Level - he's not conceited, and not unhappy with himself. He can accept his faults and appreciate his strengths in a very sane way. He's balanced and intelligent, as well as friendly, and just a little mischievous. He can converse very well, and he's interesting and well-educated.

Strengths/weaknesses: Excellent education and healthy level of self-esteem. Able to enjoy life. But he's just a teenager still, and naturally gets sort of hot-headed and impulsive sometimes.

Home: The southern area of Kyngdom, the same area that Zara is from.

Which Nobyl family is he/she from? You can invent your own branch of the Nobyls: the pur Zaraon

Background: His immediate family isn't too rich or powerful, but they've still held some influence. By now, they've decided to fight Catastrophe.

^Tarava^

Tarava went back to her bed and sat down. "Good luck, Kalam," she whispered, her eyes straying to the window again.

A knock came at the door and she started to her feet, sitting down again a second later as she remembered that she had to look composed - "Come in."

It was one of the servants who helped around the palace. "Forgive me for interupting you, my lady, but you're already late for Lord Helion's ball. I believe you were going?"

"Lord Helion's ball..." Tarava closed her eyes. "I had forgotten all about it. Thank you, Raltara. I'll go immediately." She rose and arranged a delicate ruby necklace against her silver dress - she would have to go just as she was, for she had no time to make any special preparations. Lord Helion... he was the one who had taken over the property of that Phadron, wasn't he? Yes. I'll have to watch my step, Tarava reminded herself as she skimmed down the carpeted, dark wooden steps of her palace. It would be too easy to give herself away at a ball like that.

Soon she was being admitted to Lord Helion's palace, into the gaiety and golden light and laughter of the place. Even after all those ten long years, they were still hosting parties. In a moment Tarava was caught up in a laughing throng of Nobyls from all the prominent families, and any outsider would have concluded that she was one of them.

But she wasn't, of course.

@Night Whispers, I was wondering if Eon could be performing at the ball? Maybe she and Tarava could get into a conversation.

@all, I believe Lord Helion isn't strictly the character of one of us, but I hope it's all right to have him host a ball :/ He won't come out much in my part anyway.

Continuing the Saga~

Zara settled down on the soft-cushioned carved stool that sat in the hallway and fixed her gaze on Arran's handsome face. He was looking at the floor, reflectively, as if he were lost in thought. Then he began.

"Catastrophe's king now of most of Kyngdom - and he's a cruel, murderous ruler. You saw for yourself how Lord Helion despoiled you of your family's ancient lands. But most of the Nobyls have always supported him. How they can bear to, I don't know - but they do support him. It all started at that ball ten years ago. I believe your family didn't attend, but a lot of Nobyls were hypnotized and made to support Catastrophe. Of course, they're happy to do so, because they often get wealthier that way. The old glorious days of the Nobyls are over, Zara - they've turned into a group I'm ashamed to be from."

"Your own immedate family's not like that," she reminded him.

"No. And that brings me to the second part of my story. Not all the Nobyls are so awful. A great many - mostly the younger ones - are tired of this violence and tyranny. They're joining the Resistance. Some of them are doing it openly, but most are joining secretly, and using their wealth and position to help their allies. The Nobyls who support Catastrophe have some idea of what's going on, and they're breaking alliances with other families and investigating their own children to make it stop. They're only doing themselves in." He took a quick step closer to Zara. "A house divided cannot stand - and the Nobyls are divided, all right. I've watched them squabbling and quarreling, and I can see clear as day what's coming."

"But isn't it good for Kyngdom?"

"That's the bright side," Arran replied, smiling. "The Resistance is growing stronger with the influence of the Nobyls who help it. I myself have joined it. And that's why I'm here - I was sent to ask your father if he could join. We know how much your family has suffered at the hands of Catastrophe's generals, and we were sure you'd be willing to help us end Catastrophe's reign."

"Oh, we would!" Zara exclaimed impulsively. "Kyngdom is my home, and even if I am a Nobyl, the Kyngdomers - even the commoners - are my people. They need help, some of them, far more than I ever have, I'll help them with all I have!"

"And your father and brothers?"

"I don't know." Zara glanced outside the hall. The hum of voices still came from the other rooms. "They're taking an awfully long time talking. Arran - do you know of any reason why Kalarix or any other Nobyls would have come here?"

"Frankly, no." Arran did look puzzled. "Unless they were sent by Catastrophe, and I don't see why he would want to keep persecuting you now that his general has your lands. Anyway, as to having a talk with Phaedron - perhaps I ought to come back later? I've a room at the village inn."

Zara nodded. "Perfect. Oh, I'm so glad to have seen you again!"

Arran's face subtly changed expression for an instant.

"So am I," he answered softly.

There was silence for a few seconds, broken only by the regular ticking of the clock in the hall and the voices in the business-room. Zara felt a wave of delicious excitement, and her breathing quickened a little. Then Arran was moving toward the door.

"Well, I'll be off now," he said. "Goodbye, Zara. I'll return tomorrow morning." And then he was gone.

Argh, I've been so busy with homework these days... there's a test coming up in two weeks, but thankfully everything's done tonight.

Kalarix~

It was a few more moments before Kalarix could regain sense of direction once more. Wiping his watering eyes, he glanced up at the two brothers still beside him. Their sister had went to the door after a new knock, and the center of focus had now seemed to move there along with the noise.

"Kalarix?"

Kalarix gave another start, and instantly scolded himself for it. Trying and failng to meet Rialtas's concerned gaze, he just shook his head and pinned his eyes to the carpeted floor, rubbing his neck. "I'm...I'm ok." His voice came out hollower than he expected it to be though, and a instant coughing fit followed, leaving the teenager choking for air on his seat.

"Its nothing." Kalarix muttered half to himself after he had finally caught his breath, and half to the two brothers, the latter of which exhanged uncertain glances with each other. "I'll be fine."

He followed the new visitors who the girl had opened the door for with his line of sight, who had now stepped into the cottage and vanished into its depths, perhaps a back room of some sort. They were quite alone in the main room now.

Kalarix shot a quick glance at the two brothers. They seemed to be busy with exhanging low whispers, and Phaedron, the father, busy in thought. The boy shivered slightly, just ever so slightly. The welcoming aura in the homely place had dropped quite a bit ever since he had said his family name out loud, like when one poked a snail with a stick and it began to draw itself slowly and steadily into its shell, leaving only a hard surface visible to the world.

But who was he to care, if the family trusted him or not? An opportunity to eat was an opportunity to eat, and these types of things only ever lasted so long. Seeing nothing else standing in between him and the stew, Kalarix swiped the bowl over from its idle position on the table and began to attack its contents in a very un-Nobyl-like way.