I race forwards through the caverns, my laughter echoing off the walls. There is no need to fear any creatures attacking- They have long since been wiped from the area. The Tidal Pool Caves now are an obstacle course and race track for the daring. Glancing behind me, I can see the Scoutmaster a dozen paces behind me. His dark brown hair is slicked with sweat, but he is grinning. I take a sharp turn, leading to the next jump. I leap off the moderate height, dropping into the water below. Then I swiftly swim to the next drop and leap from there.

Climbing out of the water, I take off down the path again. Zefwyn disappears from sight, and I smirk. It seems I am going to win this round. After a few more minutes of bolting my way down the twisting path, I come to an opening. The last of the jumps, this ledge takes you right down to the tidal pools. Directly to the bottom of the cave. It is also the largest drop, at least doubling the height of the second highest.

Without a second thought I vault over the top. Why would I have reason to pause? After all, I have been here dozens of times, and the creatures showed no sign of returning.

I hit the water hard, but expecting the pain makes it easier to endure. I begin swimming towards the closest piece of land when a bolt of electricity strikes the water near me. I let out a shriek, unprepared for the strike. I swim faster until I reach the shore and look up to see my assailant. A murghan. No, not just one. They usually come in packs of four. Occasionally with banshaen, which births them. I dearly hope there isn't a banshaen. They're a pain to deal with.

Taking a look around, I only see three murghan. Damn it. I send a jet of ice at my attacker and follow up with the remote fire detonation spell. Using my short teleport I easily avoid the lightning storm they summon. Annoyance takes over me. I cannot reach them with my chakrams from this distance, and my daggers are a laughable tactic. Another jet of ice is released from my hands and the first murghan goes down. I activate the spell, and the other two murghans explode in a burst of flames, but do not die.

With an excited hollar, Zefwyn plummets from the cliff and into the water. I send another stream of ice at the murghans, spreading the shards out so both of them are hit. The Ljosalfar surfaces and quickly takes in the situation, amusement swiftly fading from his eyes. He dives under the water and begins swimming over to the small patch of land the murghan are on.

In an attempt to distract the creatures I activate and throw a shadow prism across the water. It erupts into a small but showy explosion, the attention of the dim witted creatures thoroughly captured. A jet of ice flies directly by me. Shocked, I find myself reeling backwards to look at the creator. An alfar, Ljosalfar by first glance. This alfar is bald, with blue grey eyes glinting at the creatures coldly. He wields a worn staff, and his expression is thunderous. He speaks to me, somewhat shortly in a language I do not understand. I look at him blankly before turning my attention back to the murghan.

Before I can send another spell across, Zefwyn emerges from the water, stabbing one of the creatures and dragging its corpse into the icy water. He disappears under again. I shoot another ice spell, and the last murghan stumbles back. An arrow whizzes past me, and I turn to see a gnome holding some sort of heavily modified bow. Behind him is another man, almain most likely, and a second alfar.

Zefwyn leaps out from the water again, and the last murghan is sunk into the tide pools. He surfaces shortly after with a grimace. "There's blood in my beard! You know how long it's going to take to get this out?"

I can only grin wryly at him as he swims over. "Do not attempt to distract me. I won and you know it, Zefwyn. Pay up." The Ljosalfar drags himself onto the patch of land, wringing his clothing out. With a small pout he tosses me a small satchel of gold. I easily catch it and shove it into my pack.

Then, I turn to who I assume is another group of castaways. "I suppose your boat crashed as well? You are in luck. We just so happen to have a village here. You are more than welcome to stay, provided you make yourself useful." I give them a slight smile as I gesture to the scoutmaster. "This is Zefwyn. I am Eola. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." With a shallow bow, I look up at the four expectantly.

The reaction I get is confusion. The four of them begin speaking among themselves , somewhat frantically in a foreign language. I hum, curiosity shining through. This is not a language I recognize. Usually the accent would at least give clarification but none are obvious. "I suppose we should bring them to Deirdre. She is going to have a field day with this."

Zefwyn laughs. "Her eyes will go all big- not sure how they can get any bigger honestly- and then she'll blink and tilt her head then say, 'A new language?' Then she'll stay up for the next week learning the finer points of grammar for whatever gobbleygook they're speaking."

I cannot help the snide exhale I let out as I smirk at him. "And then she'll beg for them to tell her stories about their culture. They won't be able to refuse, she's too adorable to disappoint."

"Our secret weapon." He grins cheerily, pushing his way towards the group of four. He addresses them with a broad smile. "Let's get out of these dank caves, shall we? Follow us."

The two of us submerge ourselves back into the water, swiftly swimming towards the exit. They pause for a moment and then follow after us. They likely see no other choice.

After a few moments they resurface onto the mouth of a tunnel. I am wary, expecting another murghan, or Akara forbid, a banshaen to appear in ambush. But nothing shows, and it seems the gods show mercy. As we follow the path out, the foreigners are speaking among themselves suspiciously. I pay no heed, seeing as I do not understand them anyways.

We come to the mouth of the cave, and it opens up to a small ledge overlooking the forest. Zefwyn and I both jump down with the ease of a practiced vaulter. The almain man scoffs as he looks down the jump, but goes for it anyways. He stumbles a bit, but ultimately does not fall. With a triumphant smirk he turns to his comrades with a mocking bow as he steps out of the way.

With the exception of the gnome, (Who fell on his ass after clinging to the ledge for a minute or two) they all made it down with dignity intact. Fortunately Gravehal Keep is not far from the entrance, and we have no need to cut through Cape Solace. A smooth, questioning voice jolts me out of my thoughts. I do not understand the words, but I look at the bald alfar questioningly. He gestures to himself. "Solas." Then he gestures to me. His expression is expectant, his auburn eyebrow slightly raised.

I put a hand to my chest. "Eola." Then I point to the scoutmaster. "Zefwyn." I turn my gaze back to the bald man. "Solas."

He smiles slightly, his blue eyes shining with interest. He points to a tree, and says what I assume to be said object in his language. I find myself cracking a small smile as I reply. "Tree."

It is almost a game. I learn that the almain man is named 'Dorian.' The gnome is 'Varric' and the other alfar is 'Mahanon.' We continue with various words until Gravehal Keep comes into view. Zefwyn steps forwards and pushes one of the doors open with his back. A grin grows onto his face as he calls into the courtyard. "Fresh castaways, everyone!"

The moment we step into the courtyard I am swarmed by the Watchers. They wear blank, pale wooden masks and armour coloured with neutral beige and browns. The Watchers are an organization dedicated to protecting the Scion of Akara. It is their only purpose. Since I am the last recipient of this title, they are a little… Overbearing.

"Scion, you've returned!" The only female out of the three calls out as she leaps to my side. She frantically checks me for damage as the other two herd me away from the strangers. I can practically feel disapproval radiating off of her as she notices the scorch marks from the lightning.

At the bewildered looks from the foreigners, I give a wry grin. The Watchers swiftly pull me towards the keep. I send Solas an apologetic shrug as I am rushed over to the keep. Entering said keep, the female Watcher forcefully drags me over to the priestess of Lyria, Jacinda. The priestess raises an eyebrow. "Have you got hurt running that plebeian obstacle course with the Scoutmaster? I expected this to happen."

I shift uncomfortably as her magic sweeps over me. The burn marks quickly fade away, skin smoothing and repaired without a trace. Her magic is rigid, yet also refined. It has a distinct feeling, like frost covering barren earth.

I step away from Jacinda as soon as she finishes with a small smile. "Thank you, Jacinda. You may return to your… Pacing."

Jacinda gives an unimpressed look to me before she saunters off to the reading nook in the corner of the room. I take a few steps towards the throne. Before I reach the elevated platform, the female Watcher steps in the way. "You should rest, Scion."

"I must speak with Deirdre before anything else. She needs instructions. Then I must find the new people a place to stay. I will rest later." I speak sternly, trying to convey my obligations and duties to the Watcher. My eyes narrow as her mouth opens to protest. I continue talking, not letting her interject. "If it will make you feel better, I will have Myfa pose as the ruler of Gravehal."

Though I can practically sense her disheartenment, I will not relent. I am the Fateless one, and I am not to be babied or trifled with. I am pulled out of my thoughts by the auroch letting out a bellow. I tune to the orange-red creature and raise my eyebrow. It had been a diplomatic gift from the Dverga, and it has lived an unfortunately long life. Honestly, I am starting to think they spelled it to curse my halls for eternity.

I step away from the Watchers, who now follow me from a distance. I approach my diplomat with a warm smile. "Myfa, I have a request of you."

She raises an eyebrow, and brushes a strand of her short vibrant orange hair behind her pointed ear. "How may I serve, Eola?"

"We have four new guests. Zefwyn and I found them at the bottom of the Tidal Pools. They seem to be entirely foreign, and speak an unrecognizable language. I wish for you to pose as ruler of the keep, until we know they are trustworthy." I speak to the older woman with a pleading smile as the Watchers loom behind me, their blank masks directed at Myfa.

I turn an irritated smile at the self proclaimed bodyguards. "I would rather Myfa make her own choice, Watchers One, Two, and Three."

The diplomat lets out an amused smile, not showing any discomfort towards her leige's underlings. "I would be pleased to, my lady. It shall be an amusing pastime. What of the throne? Only the worthy may sit upon it, and I dare not take that chance."

"We'll remove it and put it up in my bedroom for now. We can put a lounging couch there instead. That would suit well, yes?" I ask with a thoughtful smile, gesturing to the chaise lounge resting in her corner of the hall.

She nods her head, a smug expression overtaking her features. "I know I am going to enjoy this little venture. I pray you do as well."

I let out a small giggle at her words. "I knew I could count on you." Then I turn to the Watchers. "I suppose we can pretend that I am some sort of priestess. It is close enough to the truth."

The female Watcher grasps my shoulder. Firmly, but not enough to cause pain. "You are the Scion of Akara, voice of our benevolent lord. Not any mere priestess."

Shrugging her off, I sigh and turn to the three Watchers with mild annoyance. "You three, please move the throne up to my room while I speak with Paddy."

Once the blank masked guardians move out of view I roll my eyes. "Honestly," I remark to Myfa, somewhat exasperated. "It is as if I was an unruly child."

She lets out a quiet laugh before waving me away, towards the steward of Gravehal. I obey with a shallow mocking bow and make my way over to Paddy. Said gnome looks up at my approach. "Mistress! How may I be of assistance?"

"Myfa will be pretending to be Gravehal Keep's mistress until we know the visitors can be trusted. I hope you will make the arrangements?" I ask the architect.

He nods enthusiastically. "Of course, my lady. Or, I suppose, Miss Eola."

I shake my head a slight smile on my face. "No. Scion will do. They already think I am someone important because the Watchers swarmed me when we entered. So I will just be Akara's Scion, plain and simple."

"I understand. The preparations shall be made immediately. Perhaps you should return to Zefwyn. He is not a skilled host." Paddy suggests with a fond chuckle.

My mind blanks for a minute. I spin around and quickly stride towards the door. Zefwyn is a good fellow, fun to hang around with, but he is a little much sometimes. It would not be kind of me to leave them with him for too long.

I push the doors to the keep open, gleefully escaping the Watchers for the second time today. Stepping into the courtyard I take a sweeping glance around. My eyes land on the mismatched group by the fighting pit.

Of course that is where Zefwyn would take him. Not to get food, not to the bathing chambers, but the the fighting pit. It seems someone needs lessons on hospitality. As I draw near to the pit I see Ollie, the fighting instructor brawling with Mahanon. It seems light hearted, laughter flowing between the two males. I come up right behind where the others are standing. I take hold of Zefwyn's pointed ear, my grip tight. "What do you think you're doing? They are tired and weary, not your entertainment!" I chastises him, my other hand on my hip. Dorian, Varric, and Solas spin around in surprise, not hearing my approach.

Zefwyn twists. He ends up bending backwards slightly, looking up pleadingly at me. "Ah- I'm sorry, Lady Eola, I swear! I didn't know what else to do and Ollie called me over so… yeah." He finishes lamely.

I release his ear, rolling my eyes. "Go look for their ship. There might yet be other survivors."

He sticks his tongue out childishly before turning to the scout quarters and ducking inside. When the door shuts with a loud thud, I turn to our visitors with a smile. Mahanon has rejoined his companions and I nod to each of them in turn. "I am going to take you to the baths." I make a scrubbing motion with my hands to demonstrate.

Solas immediately understands and speaks to his companions. Dorian grins with a flourishing bow. He starts speaking quickly, but I am left with no impression of what he is trying to convey. The gnome smirks and tugs at his shirt, making the scrubbing motion over them.

Oh. New clothing. That I can do. I round them up and bring them over Ambrose Flora's merchant stall. I give the dokkalfar woman a warm smile. "Ambrose! I have a request for you."

She leans forwards, only her eyes visible from the veil covering her face. Her voice practically purs. "What may I do for you, my dear lady? I have the best wares on the island." Ambrose's tone is suggestive, but I brush it off.

"These four need new clothing. I was wondering if you have something that might fit them." I speak as I gesture to the males standing behind me.

She casts an appraising eye over the newcomers and hums lightly. She turns and ducks under the counter, pulling a crate out. "This is what I have or peasant clothing. Then she pulls a smaller, second crate onto the counter. "This is what I have for mages. I do not carry armour, or gnome wares. You might have to ask Paddy or Bertrand for spares."

I smile. "Thank you." I motion for the three taller males to look through the boxes while I turn to Varric. I point at Bertrand and motion him to follow me. The blond gnome exchanges a look with Mahanon before following after me with a shrug. On our way over I listen to him speak, but do not understand what he is saying. I only give a soft shake of the head before leading him to Bertrand. The red headed gnome looks up as we approach.

"Miss Eola, I see we've gotten another gnome on board. I am glad to see another of my race." He offers with a smile, turning towards Varric.

I nod my head and introduce the two "Varric, this is Bertrand. Bertrand, this is one of the new castaways, Varric. He does not speak our language."

The rouge dwarf blinks at the name before offering a cheery grin and offering his hand. Bertrand takes it and the two shake. I let out a small laugh before turning back to the alchemist. "Ambrose does not have any gnomish clothing. I was wondering if you may be able to spare a few of your own? Else poor Varric will be wandering bare whilst his own are being washed."

The ginger gnome lets out a loud laugh, and pats Varric on the shoulder. "Sure, anything for one of my kin. I'll be back momentarily." He departs from his garden and casually walks towards the living quarters.

I lead Varric back to Ambrose's stall where the others each had picked a few bundles of clothing. Dorian is practically vibrating in glee as he swings a set of blue mage robes around, presumably bragging to his companions. I subtly cringe. Most of the items picked out have heavy enchantments. It seems I shall have to redo my finances. "How much for what they've picked out, Ambrose?"

"60,000 gold, dear. You are quite the generous soul." She speaks with a wink. I wince at the steep price before nodding in agreement.

"Come up to the keep later tonight, I'll have your gold for you then." I say, quickly ushering the four away. I had seen a tinge of a blush on Mahanon's face and felt I should intervene. The first time I met Ambrose, she insinuated that I was calling her a prostitute. Teasingly of course, but I wouldn't submit anyone else to that sort of embarrassment.

I lead them towards the underground tunnels. We had only expanded under the keep a few years ago, but we found something that was indeed worth our time. An underground spring. Now we no longer have to drag water from the well everytime someone wishes to bathe. The underground also houses most of the living quarters and emergency supplies.

As we approach the entrance I heard my name being called. I turned to look, only to see the Watchers exiting the keep. I quickly dart into the cave, out of sight of the busybodies. Solas raises an eyebrow as I press a single finger to my lips. "Shh." Varric winks as they all hurry into the caves.

The group gains a mischievous air as we venture into the caves. Dorian, Varric, and Mahanon chatter amicably as Solas attempts to make conversation with me. "Eola, wiht si pisiitin hetre?"

I only blink at the unfamiliar language. "I'm sorry Solas, but I do not understand." I offer him an apologetic smile as we come to the dividing path. He hums contemplatively, returning to his silence. I lead them down the left side, and a few moments later we reach the hotspring.

I encourage them towards the pool and walk to the side of the opening. A large curtain is tied to the side. I untie it and let it fall, allowing it to become a screen for their privacy. I turn to leave, but am stopped when the curtain is pulled back. The group of them are looking at my with curious expressions. I smile and tug my clothes. "I am going to get clothing for Varric. I will be back in twenty minutes." I use my hands to demonstrate the number twenty, opening both hands twice.

Dorian offers a brilliant smile before dropping the curtain. I take my leave of the caverns and head towards Bertrand, who is looking around and holding a bundle of clothing. "Bertrand!" I call as I approach the gnome. "Thank you for giving Varric some of your clothes. I will have you appropriately compensated."

"No need, Miss Eola. But if you were so inclined, I could use another herb gatherer.." Bertrand trails off, a cheeky smile on his face.

I laugh, exasperation ringing clear. "Akara preserve me from the ruthlessness of gnomes. Yes Bertrand, I shall find someone to help you with herbs."

He gives me a sharp smile and turns back to the garden. "I'm sure you have things to do, Miss. Like avoiding the Watchers and playing hostess. Best get back to it."

"Very well. We shall speak another time." I reply, an ashamed blush growing on my face. It is somewhat of a poorly kept secret that I make a hobby of frustrating the Watchers.

I turn on my heel and start towards the library, intent on speaking to Deirdre. Only to be stopped by the sight of the Watchers, prowling around, still searching for me. I roll into Ambrose's stall, hiding behind the counter. She looks down at me with an amused grin, but says nothing as she continues sorting her wares. I wait a few moments before popping my head over the counter, my eyes searching the courtyard. Seeing nothing, I launch over the counter and sprint to the library.

Once I reach the large wooden doors, I shut them behind me quickly. My best friend's large brown eyes blink up at me. "Welcome to the library!" She lets out a light, girlish giggle. "I love saying that."

I gesture for her to take a seat at the table. We both sit. She leans forwards eagerly, tucking her chin length brown hair behind one of her pointed ears. "Have you found another text for me to translate? It has been quite awhile since the last."

"No, but I have found something that will surely be a greater challenge." I reply, my voice teasing.

She claps her hands together excitedly. "Oh! What is it? A unique dialect? Perhaps ancient runes of an unknown civilization?"

I cannot help the worried expression that takes over. "We have four new castaways, and they do not speak our language."

Deirdre's eyes widen. "But that isn't possible. When the Tuatha came for the island, you and Akara ripped us from that plane of existence. We can't be getting visitors. Not unless…"

"Not unless this plane is not as barren as we first thought. Is it not possible Akara's residual power shielded us from view and prevented us from leaving? Its intent was always to protect us." I reply, my voice growing grim. "Which can only mean that the one behind the shipwreck…"

"Dead Kel." Deirdre breaths, horrified. "But you killed him! It isn't possible."

"Fate's tapestry is gone. Anything is possible. Especially with residue power from a World Tree." I reply to her, somewhat chastisingly. "I did not truly think Dead Kel truly passed from this world. The fight was too easy. However, I was inclined to accept Akara's judgment on the matter."

Deirdre frowns. "I suppose you want me to help them learn common, then?" Her fingers tap the dark coloured wood table. "Very well, I accept."

"Let them think we are an isolated island, with only castaways as population. Let them know nothing of Amalur. We need information on this world if we are to survive." I speak to her, rising from my seat.

Deirdre nods. "Be careful. Even as powerful as you are... Be wary."

I bow my head in acceptance of her words and gather up Bertrand's spare clothes. "I will speak to you later."

"May Lyria bless your path."

I crack the door of the library open, warily casting a glance across the courtyard. I see the Watchers speaking with Zefwyn, over by the fighting pit. The ljosalfar winks at me as his voice grows louder. "She told me she was going to Souldeep Fasting to look for more information on Akara."

The three Watchers rush for the doors, quickly out of the keep and presumably to Souldeep Fasting. The ruin will take awhile to search thoroughly, so I should have a few hours of peace. I grin at Zefwyn and shake my head. The Watchers fall for it everytime.

I turn from the common area and start towards the caves, ready to retrieve our new visitors from their bath. The stroll is quiet. Usually there are reserved times for who may bath when, but generally newcomers get to go first. Only fair, since most newcomers had just survived a shipwreck.

I turn down the corridor to find three of them chatting on the outside of the curtain, Varric still on the other side. "Hello!" I call out as I approach, a smile on my face. "I have clothes for Varric." I offer the bundle to Mahanon, the one closest to me.

He accepts the bundle with a smile, and ducks through the curtain to give it to the gnome. A moment later Varric strides through the curtain, exclaiming something to his companions. He winks at me, his tone teasing.

I roll my eyes and move forwards to tie the curtain back. I gather up the white cotton material and sweep it to the side, tethering it there by the small hook that juts out of the stone cave wall. I turn back to them and lead them out of the caverns.

"Eola, ar'an ane serannas sul mar halani." Solas speaks, his eyes glinting. I pause, and turn to face him. It sounds like a different language, one that is much more fluid than the one they usually use. That does not change the fact I do not understand his words. I shake my head. "Forgive me, but I still cannot understand."

He frowns, and the spark in his vivid blue eyes dim. I pat him on the shoulder lightly before starting to leave the cavern. The group follows behind me. "We are going to meet Lady Myfa, and then get you something to eat."

They follow behind me as we exit the caves and make towards the keep. Zefwyn jogs up the path to greet us, a grin on his face. "Did you see how quick the Watchers took off? They'll be in Souldeep Fasting for ages until they figure out we've given them the runaround again."

I let out a soft laugh, bumping my shoulder with his own. We continue walking towards the keep. "Shouldn't you be gone by now? Every second wasted-"

"Is an opportunity gone. Yeah, I know. I'll be back tomorrow. Have fun with your charade!" He says, giving me a flippant wave as he dashes down the path and out the front gates. I sigh, shaking my head as I halt the group in front of the doors to the keep.

I try to demonstrate we are meeting someone important, by giving a bow and pointing at the door, but give up after I am graced with blank looks. Fuck it. I shove the doors open, a tad dramatically. The entirety of the hall stops to look at the visitors.

"Presenting Solas, Varric, Dorian, and Mahanon, recent castaways." I call across the room. I conceal a smirk, seeing Myfa lounging on top of a chaise. She regards us with an amused and lethargic air. She very much fits the picture of a ruler, elegant and poise unlike any other on the island. Except Cirdan. He is the literal epitome of the greatness that used to be the Winter Court.

I guide them around the table towards Myfa. I offer her a shallow bow, stepping to the side to allow her to see the guests. Solas is hiding poorly concealed shock. Perhaps it is Myfa's clothing? She is both flamboyant and revealing. Scandalous to some.

Myfa runs her fingers along the side of the cream colored chaise, delicately setting her book down. She raises an arched eyebrow. "Castaways, Eola? It cannot be so."

I bow again, playing the part of a meek underling. "Zefwyn and I found them in the tidal pools, my liege."

"Ah. What is this I hear about them not speaking any known language?" She asks, playing the part for all it's worth. Her gaze turns to the newcomers. She places a hand gracefully to her chest. "I am Myfa. I hope that the shipwreck has not done you too much harm. We were all once victims of such unfortunate circumstances."

They cannot respond, unknowing of the words spoken around them. Uneasiness creeps up on the unfortunate travellers visibly. I step in front of them. "Might I suggest we house them for the night, and have Deirdre examine their language tomorrow? We are not showing proper hospitality."

Myfa's eyes glint. She lets out a light laugh, politely covered by her hand. She motions for me to come forwards. When I am within range, she pats my head. "I assume you want responsibility over them, Eola?"

I shoot her a disapproving look. "I want to learn."

Her smile sharpens. "I would but- oh. It seems your wayward guardians have caught up with you. It seems Paddy shall have to go in your stead."

I spin around, startled at the proclamation. The four visitors recoil at the quick action, but I look past them. Indeed, the three Watchers are leaning by the only exit to the keep. My shoulders slump. "Ah."

The female one marches over and grasps my arm, pulling me to Myfa's old area, which now holds a small elevated platform and another lounging couch. I am practically pushed onto it as one of the male watchers forces a cup of water into my hand. It seems I have been retired for the night. For a second time, I offer the castaways an apologetic shrug of the shoulders as I am scolded for running off. I tune the Watchers out as I observe Paddy leading them up to the third floor, likely to make use of the empty attic room. Trying to follow is pointless. Now that the Watchers have found me, I will likely not be able to escape their gaze again till tomorrow.

Solas glances at me as he turns to the staircase. I nod my head encouragingly as the Watchers shove a plate of cut up fruit at me. Feeling my patience waning I sigh. May as well indulge them this once. Tomorrow, the evasion game shall begin anew. I stifle a smirk as I pick up an apple slice.