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Thread: [M] UKC3: The Great Pandemonium IC (F)

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    Default [M] UKC3: The Great Pandemonium IC (F)

    Rated M: For mature themes such as excessive violence, gore, sexual contents and sexual insinuation and the like. Oh, and mainly for the fact that I encourage my players for creativity.




    Prologue- The Great Pandemonium

    One more day by the pits of hell...
    Just one more, when even yesterday was too late!
    One more thought that I had to sell...
    One last trick that you can't debate!

    And my eyes sweep a shore that was always there
    A blood red line through the sonisphere
    I can't resolve where it's coming from...
    I sense it's the great pandemonium



    ***


    Norgard-Two miles outside of Toria-Zelvad's safe house-One week after Bria's arrival


    Zelvad's mind was a wreck as he leaned back and sighed, rubbing the sides of his head.

    The scrolls were in the most perfect cipher he had seen in a long time and it would've taken him months to decode it had it not been for Helena's aid. Her reasoning for wanting to help him still evaded him, but he figured if she was going to say anything it was going to be on her time and terms... plus an extra set of eyes allowed him to see things that he would've originally missed.

    Though the first scroll was done, his work was far from completed.

    He sighed as he looked at Bria. She had just recently fallen to a deep sleep, the tear streaks drying on her face. At least she could sleep...that was good.

    "No child should ever have to go through what she has to get these to me....Widow curse your soul Cronus."

    He was itching for action. It was evident by the way he slouched in his chair, rapping his fingers against the table with one hand and now flipping his dagger around in between his fingers with the other.

    "I'm slaving over a goddamned six volume codex that has ciphers layered on top of fucking ciphers ...instead I should be in Chanclera right now gathering information and allies, slowly tearing apart Cronus's hold over the Fangs!"

    He stabbed the dagger into an area of the table not cluttered by the work they had put in so far and stood hovering over the scrolls, letting his hair fall over his left shoulder while resting his hands flat on the table as to hold his weight as his emerald eyes frantically darted around the table.

    "But I'm not. I'm standing here serving Lieroian's dying wish...as Roseabelle before him for the good of my clan and country. I'm slowly losing my damn mind because of this conflict Helena...and it seems that my only salvation lies here scrambled in at least three different codes. Widow's grace guide me...".

    Helena chuckled, "And what of me? I was to be sent here on a request made by Father Augustine. This was never a fate for me to bear upon my shoulders.... ", Helena took a deep breath, gazing quickly over the little child that rested peacefully not so far from her, "You mistaken a word here... Let me...", she took the second scroll while writing up the next lines.

    Then she pulled the chair she sat upon backward, the wood making a sound against the ground as it was pushed while she slowly got up. Without armor and without much of sleeping hours, the image of Helena, the cold warrior woman, didn't seem so frightening as she should have been seen. She took a deep breath, "High Priest Tik'Va wanted me to learn this... around the time my father died he just convinced everyone to let me be. So instead of training I spent hours on this kind of scripts and ancient languages. He said I had a talent for this... But now I think there is more to it...".

    Hearing that her father agreed to some deal with the demon lord Emonalach was not easy news to anyone, but only now Zelvad seemed to realize how horrible was the news to the lady Paladin.

    "The cruel truth is that fate never gives you a choice at times. That being said, know that it is always something more than what you see at face value Helena, you just need to dig a little. Whether it be with yourself, others, or even if you actually have to physically dig for it." He chuckled a little at himself before turning his attention back to the second scroll. "Now if I move this letter here...so that means this is that which means this goes here...." He wasn't sure what it was, but something about Helena had surfaced rather quickly in the week they had spent revealing the mysteries of the scrolls.

    Her usual distant, defensive attitude had evolved to something he couldn't easily identify...not yet at least. Whatever it was, it caused waves to echo within. They were small, but enough to be noticed. Though to be honest the two of them had never really actually had a conversation since Ascara, so it could very well be nothing.

    He needed to know for sure though.

    Zelvad cleared his throat a little before he spoke again. "It's a good thing you got to study as much as you did though, otherwise we'd probably still be stuck on that first scroll for another day or two. Though I guess the isolation just comes with the stigma of red hair, eh? I know the feeling well...".

    Helena smiled and nodded. Zelvad, too was belong to the same bloodline of the ancients from Chanclera. Now that she learned that her mother originally came from there, she wouldn't be surprised if there was much deeper connections between the two of them, "The habits of solitude are not new to me. You are right, it has much to do with the stigma I bear within the top of my skull", she chuckled, "But I would like to think that someday in the near future I shall take pride of it... Somehow...", she nodded, "I'm sorry that the little child now shares your fate... Or that you are forced out of your family yourself... It must be hard".

    Blue orbs danced eagerly within their sockets as Helena forced Zelvad to gaze back at her. He seemed to be weary himself and she thought it was much more to do with recent events than the fact they both missed their nights of proper slumber.

    Zelvad smirked lightly, "I think it's gotten to the point that I'm not worried about being an outcast anymore. Now I'm more worried about the process of changing the clan's opinion on magic now that Cronus is in control."

    Zelvad rested his quill on the table and leaned back in his chair as he locked eyes with the Paladin.

    "Magic is only as corrupt as its user. If the talents gifted at birth are being abused for sake of personal gain or wanton destruction, then yes that person should be permanently removed for the safety of all. Though if a person truly wishes to help the world with their power, to do as you will while harming none in the process...then I believe we can rid the world of the fear of red hair and allow the Ancient blood line to flourish once again."

    The smirk on his face quickly faded as his eyes left Helena and found their way to Bria again. "I feel worse for her than for myself though. Losing her home, her parents, and Lieroian all in one night had to be devastating. I couldn't imagine not having my parents when I was her age." Zelvad slouched in his chair again as he crossed his arms in a worrisome manner. "I just wish that I could offer something more than comfort for her right now...".

    "Be strong for her, Zelvad", Helena nodded, "Create a better world for her. Create a future for her", white teeth landed peacefully upon red lips as Helena considered her next words, "Be sure to do all that you can do... But be sure to guide her path as well...".

    (Done with the help of the Amazing Repent!)
    Last edited by Chat Noir; 07-21-2013 at 10:21 PM.

  2. #2
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    Default I had help with this from Kris, and a long lost friend

    Chapter 1- Fire Within

    Norgard: Toria

    The streets were riddled with casual passerby on their way to do whatever errands heir day had brought before them. It was cold, but not too much. The unlikely couple emerged outside, Raphael dressed in a fine white silk shirt, the sleeves and collar decorated with a hint of lace. A new vest of soft leather adorned his torso, stained a rich shade of blue and decorated in golden filigree about the breast that formed a pain of simply roses. Wren, in comparison, was dressed like a noblewoman for perhaps the first time in her life. Her fine figure was hugged snugly and accentuated within a fine silk gown of cornflower blue that went beautifully with the vest of the man who had purchased it for her. It flowed about her with a natural elegance all its own, the bodice supporting her bosom comfortably while also a teasing bit of it to be visible for the viewing pleasure of any and all men she might pass. She had been a little nervous about it at first, of course, having never worn such a thing but the way Raphael’s eyes had sparkled seeing her in it had dispelled all of that in an instant.

    “Now where to, prince charming?” The healer asked, a playful little smile upon her face as she twined both slender arms about his own.

    “I’ve some friends in the city that haven’t seen me in a good long while. Care to make a visit?”

    Of course she readily agreed, always eager to meet some of the people that her newfound love called friends, and so into the market within the city of Sonata they went. At first Wren had thought this was where said friends resided but after a bit of watching Raphael move methodically form store to store, purchasing strange toys and other childish objects such as tops, teddy bears, and sets of carved soldiers fashioned to seem like the guards of Damas. Perhaps the people they were going to visit had children? In truth her guess was close but she had no way of knowing that and the curiosity boiled deep within her. She asked nothing though because she was starting to get this sneaky suspicion that Raphael enjoyed leaving people in the dark, offering no answers so that they are left wondering just what the hell he was up to. It was maddening, the not knowing, but at the same time cute because he seemed to enjoy the game so very much.

    They soon found themselves in the more common area of the city, the narrow streets a little less well kept as those nearer the market. Both sides were lined with quaint little homes, simple in design and built very near to one another as if those who had constructed them had been given a limited amount of space and had crammed everything together to ensure it would all fit. Raphael was speaking as they walked, a large sack slung over his shoulder which contained all of the things he had purchased along the way, toys for both boys and girls and suitable only for children. Wren still had no real idea as to the nature of people they were headed toward and the pirates words were not exactly revealing or all that comforting either. “There is quite a few of them.” He was saying in a light and joyous tone. “Don’t be intimidated by their numbers though. I swear they can sense weakness just like your average predator.”

    The turned down a street, Wren’s apprehensions growing as they approached a large, two story building that looked as if it could be some sort of simple church or perhaps a monastery. It stood apart from the rest of the buildings, surrounded by low walls that were just high enough for them to be unable to see over and glimpse what might be going on within. The gates were open though, silently welcoming everyone who should decide to venture within. They did so easily and the sounds of laughing, playing children filed the air the moment they had. They were all over the courtyard, playing tag and racing one another, paying with old and battered toys. One little girl stood in the doorway, watching them all with haggard looking stuffed teddy tucked within her arm and a thumb within her mouth. Why she was not playing as well was a mystery but if Raphael had to guess he’d say it was because she was in trouble and the aged, motherly woman clad all in dark robes who stood beside her watching everyone seemed to enforce the assumption.

    No one seemed to have noticed them apart from the woman in the doorway. Her eyes shone a dark shade, her slightly wrinkled face composed in a state of quiet happiness as she watched over the children from across the courtyard from the pair who had just entered. When her gaze settled upon them, however, that slight smile grew into open joy and those dark eyes sparkled with the kind of happiness a mother might have when seeing her child be made happy. Tossing his beloved healer a wink Raphael lifted his hand, placed two fingers between his lip and gave a sharp, distinct whistle that had every single child present stopping in their tracks to regard the source. The little girl in the doorway was the first to react, an excited squeal escaping her throat before she was bounding toward them as fast as her little legs could carry them.

    “Uncle Raphie!!!” She called, arms held wide open as she neared and the ruthless, infamous captain of pirates smiled warmly, dropping the bag to catch the girl as she leapt full on into his arms. The laugh that bubbled from his throat was friendly, open and true amusement displayed as naturally as the cold intimidation he seemed to surround himself with in combat.

    The other kids were quick to follow, clambering around Raphael and Wren both excitedly as they called out questions of where he had been and who the pretty woman was. Some of the newer additions to their ranks had never seen either of them and so were a bit more shy than the rest but even still they stuck around, smiling and laughing as if caught in the tide of the sudden mood that overtook the entire place.

    “Lily, I thought I said you weren’t allowed to get any bigger?” The Captain asked, frowning in mock anger at the girl in his arms. She knew the act for what it was, giggling helplessly and hugging the man so tight that, had she been bigger, he might have had difficulty breathing. He simply laughed some more and returned the embrace.

    “Munchkin’s, meet Wren. Wren, meet the Munchkin’s.” He rattled off the names of the ones he knew, pointing to each in turn though he needn’t bother as they waved frantically once their names were called. Those he didn’t know he learned quickly, asking after them all with a smile until everyone was properly introduced.

    “You’ve never brought anyone with you before, Uncle Raphie.” The little girl in his arms said, smiling shyly at Wren while half concealing her face in the man’s neck. “Is she your girlfriend?”

    “Why yes actually. Something like that.”

    “It’s about time someone caught you, My Lord.” A feminine, alto voice called from behind the crowding children. All eyes went to the woman who had been standing in the doorway when they had arrived, the smile still on her face. “I was beginning you worry that you would grow old all alone. Finally it seems my prayers were answered.”

    “What treachery is this?” Raphael exclaimed, lifting Lily up over his head and turning much to the girls delight. “I knew someone was responsible for my falling for a girl at long last. This betrayal shall not go unanswered Sister Mary.”

    “You brought toys!” Lily suddenly squealed, completely ruining the Pirate’s playful act in a moment of sheer, innocent obliviousness. She squirmed out of his grasp, moving to inspect the goodies he had brought him as all of the kids crowded even closer to get a look for themselves. It was impossible to deny them any longer and so Raphael shoulders the sack once more, tossing Wren a wink before he marched off at the head of his small army.

    Sister Mary remained behind, smiling after them before making her way over to the healer who suddenly realized she had been smiling so hard her cheeks were beginning to ache. “I am thankful that he has found someone, My Lady.”

    Wren blinked, turning her green eyes upon the woman, her smile softening now. “I believe I’m the one who got lucky, actually.”

    Mary nodded. “Both of you are, perhaps.”


    ****

    Wren blinked, turning her green eyes upon the woman, her smile softening now. “I believe I’m the one who got lucky, actually.”

    Mary nodded. “Both of you are, perhaps.”

    The healer nodded and allowed the older woman to usher her inside. Wren's eyes met Raphael's as she passed him in the yard, and the two exchanged smiles before he turned his attention back to the children.

    "Can I offer you some tea, my lady?" Sister Mary asked when the two woman were through the doorway.

    "I would love some. I confess I'm not quite used to this Norgard chill," she replied, taking a seat at a modest table nearby. "But please Sister Mary, you don't need that title with me. I'm no noblewoman."

    Mary's eyes dark eyes flashed as she laughed to herself. "No? But you're on the arm of a nobleman."

    She poured the tea from a kettle and turned to hand the small cup to her guest. But Wren looked to be in a state of shock. "You mean, Raphael..."

    "Came from a high class family, yes," Mary said in a matter-of-fact way, setting the cup down on the table instead and pouring herself one. "You're questioning his choice of profession now," she continued, taking a seat across from Wren at the table.

    After a moment's thought, the girl shook her head. "No, I always knew he wasn't a pirate to get rich or terrorize people." Her thoughts drifted back to their first conversation. Well, their first civil conversation, Wren corrected herself. In her mind's eye she saw Raphael standing on his ship, watching the sun come up over the horizon, his eyes afire with the adventure of a new day.

    Wren took a sip of the tea, mentally shaking herself, bringing herself back to the present. "Is that how you know him then? Through his family?"

    Sister Mary's laugh echoed through the walls of the small building. "Oh no," she replied with a shake of her head. She pushed a strand of graying hair from her face and continued. "He just showed up one day, saying he wanted to make a donation.

    "I had a mind not to accept it," she said with a frown. "Even years ago, all of the kingdoms knew of the dreaded pirate Raphael Sinclair. I recognized him from the wanted posters around town. But in person, he just didn't seem so vicious as the talespinners said about him. So I took his money and used it to buy new clothes for all of the children."

    Mary paused to sip at her tea before continuing. "Since then he's stopped by whenever he's in town, no matter how many guards are looking for him or how busy he is with his own business. He always made the children a priority. And they can tell. That's why they love him so."

    "They are all so sweet," Wren said with a smile. "What..."

    But her question was cut off by a cry from outside. Seconds later, Raphael was strolling inside with a crying Lily in his arms. The other children were at his heels, their little faces wearing expressions of great concern.

    "She slipped while running," the pirate explained before Sister Mary had a chance to ask. "Skinned her hand on the stone."

    As if trying to prove his words were true, Lily held out her palm to show the women her torn skin. "It's bleeding!" the tiny girl yelped between sniffles.

    "Now then, I told you to be brave," Raphael said gently. "Do you want to see something amazing?"

    Lily turned her watery blue eyes up to the captain and gave the slightest of nods. In turn, Raphael looked towards Wren, but the healer was already on her feet.

    "May I see your hand again, darling?" she asked. Lily gave the new woman a suspicious look, but complied. Wren softly cradled the tiny hand between her own. Her powers had been restored by Gilliam, and though the fallen Oracle had warned it was only a temporary fix, Wren felt instinctually that she could help the little girl. The child gave a startled gasp as her hand grew suddenly warm. But when she pulled it away, there was no trace of the cut.

    Lily stared at her, and a smile crept over her face. "You fixed it!" she cried, beaming. The child's joy was infectious, and Wren found herself grinning back as well.

    "The day is saved!" Raphael exclaimed. "Wren is the heroine!" The pirate leaned over to reward his sweetheart with a peck on the cheek (to which the children all objected loudly) before ushering the kids back outside. "Don't go running off again, Lily!"

    Her face feeling a little warm at the display, Wren turned back to Mary, who was watching her with raised eyebrows. "With all the scrapes and bumps we get around here, you're going to have to visit us more often," the woman said.

    Wren felt her smile widen. "I'd love to."

    ***

    A few short hours passed before Raphael and Wren begrudgingly agreed that it was time to return to their friends. Raphael's fine clothes were dotted with smudges from playing with the children outside, and Wren sported a braid in her hair and a bracelet woven out of string. Sister Mary, in her watchful way, waited until all the children had said their goodbyes and reassured the little ones that "Uncle Raphie" would be back before they knew it.

    The pirate and the healer made their way down the steps of the orphanage, arm in arm, the sound of their laughter dancing through the air.

  3. #3
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    Default Head to Norgard, your mission starts there

    Norgard; The cold kingdom within the borders of the world as we know, Probably the only safe heaven we have left.

    Rumors are carried by the wind like dust from the sands of Ascara. They speak of bloody war.

    Brothers war...



    They people of Ascara lift their daggers and swords and shed blood, blood which is precious just like the little source of water they have left. All in the name of a change. A new world. A better world.

    But will it be enough to make a change?



    Even now. The rest of the world is tormented by the ghouls of darkness that appear in the shadows, "The Nephilim" and the evil clan of the Assassins, The Once prideful order of the "Lunar Fangs".

    Is there no place for pure souls to hide?

    The oracles are dead...

    But in Norgard... In Norgard lies the answer. The fire within. The oracle of Fire still lives.

    'Head there', the visions speak to you.



    'Head to Norgard'.

    Why?

    You are not so sure yourselves.

    But there, in Norgard, you may find the answers you seek.
    Last edited by Kris; 08-11-2012 at 08:40 PM. Reason: Head to Norgard, your mission starts there

  4. #4
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    Default

    Lydia hadn't been there at the time when the man she came to know as the infamous pirate Raphael Sinclair had decided to donate a rather hefty sum to the orphanage she had grown up in. She had left the squat little building before most of the others would have, learning about her ability in magic when she was still too young to grasp that it was not the evil that most people saw it as. She had ran away, but her problem followed her until she was forced to face it, control it, and eventually master it. That was only a few years ago, and she had been tempted to return to the orphanage then, to see how it was, to see if anyone remembered her.

    However, something made her stay away. Maybe it was the man she saw handing a rather heavy looking money pouch to Sister Mary. Maybe it was the fact that all the children seemed much happier than when she had been there. She no longer felt like she belonged there, and thus moved on with her life.

    And yet year after year, Lydia found herself drawn back to the orphanage, to look on it from afar, sitting atop a different building that gave her just the right angle to see into the walls. She might not have been allowed up there, but she did it anyway, simply to watch the children play. She eventually even came to recognize the man she had seen with the money pouch, a wanted man known as Raphael Sinclair.

    Why he was giving money to the orphanage baffled Lydia. As she watched the children, she always pondered that at least once. She had never heard the stories of the man like other people had, but she knew of him, knew his face, knew his crimes. Why would he give his 'hard-earned' money to these children? It made them happy, sure, and by a strange extension it made Lydia happy, but why? The question tormented her, kept her staring long hours after she thought she should have stopped watching the children play. She felt she might go mad simply sitting there, wondering, watching, waiting.

    Waiting for what? She didn't know. And she hated it.

    It was only on this day that Lydia finally realized what she wanted. The man himself, Raphael Sinclair had shown up at the orphanage... An epiphany hit her like a lightning bolt when the man showed up: that this was what she had been waiting for, the chance to question him face to face. It was odd, having such a feeling, the feeling that years of waiting, watching, finally paying off in one moment... She felt like she might have a problem, but was too blinded by the chance of victory to truly care.

    As the pirate and the woman he was with left the orphanage, the mage girl deftly hopped down from the building and landed lightly, following the sound of their laughter. For a moment, she wondered what she would say, what she expected he would say. So many possibilities raced through her mind that for a moment, all she could do was stand there in front of the two, looking quite silly with her mouth slightly open, words dead on her tongue. Finally, though, she found her voice, looking the man dead in the eyes.

    "Raphael Sinclair. I never would have imagined a deadly pirate like you might have a soft-spot for little orphans."

    Thank you Hayabusa for the Sig and Avi.

    Alright everyone. Thank you for your time. This is a link to the thread explaining my departure from RPA. Stop by for the read if you have a chance. And catch you all on the flip side

  5. #5
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    Default Norgard: A Road to Sonata

    The heavy boots pushed the snow down under their weight leaving behind an imprint. Even with the winds and blowing snow one could still make out the trail left by the moving armor. Looking back the eyes behind the helm rolled, if everything left such obvious tracks it wouldn't be too difficult to hunt prey. Yet, it was the peoples of Norgard that were known for their skills in hunting, but if it was this easy to track just how skilled would they be? The question cascaded down in her consciousness, truthfully Claudia found it quite uncomfortable to be leaving such a trail. Now wasn't the time to be worrying about such trivial things, she was on a job and she had to develop some sort of strategy or plan.

    With the recent change in leadership in this land came many new opportunities for those who walked the way of a mercenary. Many sought some sort of security during a regime change and mercenaries were skilled at securing such things. Their arsenal was vast and ranged from blackmail to intricate dethroning of certain people in power. With this new boom started there were many who headed toward the capital to find work. Claudia was no exception, her guild had been hired by a certain wealthy man that wanted status security during this transition. Suspecting that his position would be at risk he made a wise choice and Claudia was sent to keep her eyes ever watching.

    However many of the other guilds would find that Claudia being sent to these frozen lands strange especially on such a job as watchdog. Rumors had begun to circulate in the mercenary circles as to her real reason. The suit of leather and plate stopped the winds sweeping stronger. Her movements were stiff under the cold conditions and old injuries had started aching. She found it almost pleasant to think that she was becoming a topic of conversation and it was true her reasons for coming were more personal.

    '....I hope the springs are warm.'

    Her thoughts mingling together as she rubbed her shoulder. Her reasons were indeed personal but personal to the guild as a whole. Vengeance she thought was always a dish best served cold. The locale was perfect she would just have to locate the backstabber during this job and be the the hand to deliver the guild's wishes. Slowly her legs began to step forward again, she had made good progress but was still perhaps another days journey away from the capital.

  6. #6
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    Norgard, Capital Sonata


    Preparation to the wedding- The Lady quarters


    It was a lovely early morning when Helena has returned with Bria and Zelvad. Departing with him and the girl, Helena rushed into the town, to the castle of what used to be the property of the former queen.

    Now it was the soon to be palace for the new king Arjak and his soon to be wife. Helena made sure she would be there for the promising day, no matter how important solving the scroll was, or how much more she needed to train.

    She saw the maids carrying flowers bouquets and cleaning the floors and walls, all in ready for the holy ceremony. She smiled as this lovely sight, thinking it's been a long time since they had celebrated in such a manner. The kind woman that was Ciara sort of insisted to wait with the wedding at the sight of the torn girl, Bria, but the others convinced her that she was deserving of this happiness.

    Climbing upon the stairs of the tallest section in this tower was no easy task, but Helena found herself excited. True, the wedding wasn't planned until another day, but she knew that today the bride was supposed to measure her wedding dress.

    Opening the door in the lady quarters, Helena stepped inside slowly, giving a soft knock on the door, "I came here with Zelvad as promised. And as we know, men are not permitted to witness the bride before the wedding. And so, he was left outside to take care of Bria. I came to assist as best I can", Helena smiled, "I am sure Wren shall join us soon as well", she chuckled, "Maybe the pirate will get the hint too?".

    Ciara had been standing quietly while Arjak's mother, Morrigan, and sister were sticking her with pins as they tried to get the finishing alterations done on her long green gown. Over her gown would be worn a traditional druidess robe also of matching green with a fur lined collar.

    Ciara had her back to the paladin when she entered and turned rather quickly, managing to get herself stuck again with a pin as Morrigan was trying to pin the waist of the dress in to make it just a bit more snug. Satisfied that the dress would fit she smiled at Ciara "When you are ready you may remove the dress so we can get the seamstress to make the final preparations."

    The druid bride smiled as her future mother and sisters in law left the room and she turned fully then to meet the gaze of Helena, stepping forward and hugging her with excitement.

    "I'm so pleased that you made it, Helena!" she exclaimed. "Our journey together has brought us some way now, has it not?" The raven haired woman smiled softly, beaming at the fiery haired paladin. " It would not feel right if my friends were not here."

    She frowned then at the mentioning of Wren. Ciara had come to grow rather fond of the young healer and her presence was missed.

    "I hope the Lady Avari will be joining us, the festivities wouldn't be the same without her. As to the young pirate, if he knew exactly what is to be found in the heart that he now holds, he would take that opportunity rather quickly I should think."

    Ciara wasn't going to ponder on the what if's regarding Raphael Sinclair. She had more important things to think about. She turned then in a circle slowly for Helena to see the dress better then stopped. "How does it look?"

    Then her nerves got the better of her as she took Helena's hands into hers "Helena, Arjak and I..." her voice trailed slightly "We've come together so far but still there is fear within my heart. He is a king and as such he is entitled to many women besides his queen. I am afraid that I will not be able to do as a good queen does that allows her king to bed his concubines. He is a man of great vitality, virile and strong. What if, I am not enough to appease him?"

    Ciara fidgeted with her hands then, wringing them together, the normally confident druid now filled with some amount of doubt.

    Helena's smile wore off a bit. It sure was unlike Ciara to question herself. Was something happening between the two lover druids while she was away?

    She considered the words of Ciara, and then decided to dismiss them. Without further thinking Helena moved forward grabbing the druid's hands within her own as the smile returned to her face again, "The man worships you. You have been his promising anchor and love, his goddess. I suspect someone as lord Arjak would not be easily captured by just any woman, and you are indeed special", Helena played a bit with Ciara's dark hair as she turned her whole body to look at the mirror before the two of them.

    At the reflection was the image of the tanned lady and the head of the tall Paladin popping from above her, "Fear not, my lady. You are a wonderful individual, the perfect missing half of Lord Arjak. Our fire of hope. I am certain that those worries are just fears from the big day tomorrow. Once your eyes are set upon his, as you both shall be brought together upon the altar, all your worries and fears shall be gone as if they never were", Helena kissed the top of the druidess' head, "My blessing with it as well, and I am certain, Wren shall be here soon as well", she smiled, "And the dress looks wonderful too, my lady".

    Ciara smiled at the paladin as she looked at herself in the mirror. "I know you must think me to be foolish Helena but when Brennus disappeared" Ciara quickly corrected herself as although there had been no proof that Brennus had perished, it had been assumed that he had when he never returned. "After Brennus' death, I did not wish to find another with whom I could share my life. Now, I have found Arjak but like Brennus, he is destined for greatness."

    The dark skinned female sighed "Perhaps you are correct" Ciara mused quietly before dismissing the thought from her mind.

    Ciara turned away from the mirror and moved behind the tapestry that hung from the ceiling, stepping behind it and slipping out of her gown so that the alterations would be done on time and began to redress in her normal clothing, talking through the curtain as she did so "I do hope the others will be able to attend."

    Ciara's ears perked and she thought she heard a distant howling of wolves. A shudder ran through her lithe frame. Since coming to Norgard her druid senses had been reawakened, what once had become still within her now burned brighter and she could hear the nature's call in all of its various means of glory. And since coming here many things had been revealed to her. TikVa, the oracle of fire, all of these things were still fresh in her mind. And always in the back of her mind lingered the fact that unrest remained within Allfathers creatures, and evil still dwelled in the lands of Norgard.

    Hearing the cries of the wolves reminded her of Epinala and her voice became filled with excitement again at the prospect of seeing those whom had fought by her side and made this incredible journey with her.

    "We've come so far together, all of us" she spoke through the curtain as she slipped back into her shoes. Stepping from behind the curtain she could hardly contain her enthusiasm "I do hope that Wren makes it on time!" Grabbing the paladins hands Ciara laughed then, her earlier cares having been diminished and forgotten "And Epinala! Soon brother and brother will be together again, and they have mended their ways." Ciara truly beamed, her olive eyes gleaming.

    Taking the paladins hands into her own Ciara stated "It's going to be wonderful, Helena. And please, do not call me lady. I am merely Ciara, your friend."

    "You are right, forgive me", Helena smiled, "Ciara it is".


    * * * * *


    Preparation to the wedding- The men quarters


    Meanwhile, Arjak was in his quarters, the grandiose room that he was to share with Ciara. With a silver goblet of wine in hand, the new High King rested his elbows on the stone handrail of his balcony, watching the ant-like forms of people far below, but the keen eyes of Arjak could see better than any normal man, noticing details that many would require a set of far-eyes to see. Even better than his sight, were his senses of hearing and smell. The city smelled like it should when preparing for a festival - honey on the wind from mead and the baker's sweet rolls, the soft notes of bard performing on street corners, the tickling scent of seasoned mutton, and the clanging of the smithy's hammer and anvil. Having grown up in the wild, Arjak never realized just how alive the city was from the inside.

    Taking a sip of his wine, Arjak's golden eyes settled on the hand holding the goblet; his right hand. The palms and fingertips were calloused and his knuckles bore many scars. They were not nobleman's hands, powdered and soft, but the hands of a warrior and a savage. No jewelry adorned the Wolf King. Even his crown was iron, heavy on Arjak's brow. Silver and gems, while beautiful, were weak. Norgard was a country for the strong, and a strong leaded needed a crown of strong metal, leaving the spared funds to go to causes that truly needed it. The wedding that loomed over the horizon was the only extravagant expense Arjak had permitted. He wanted Ciara to be happy and the people of Norgard needed a boost in morale. Few things made hearts rise like a wedding. Taking a deep breath of Norgard's cold air, Arjak took another sip of his wine.

    Most men would be shaking to the bones or having doubts so close to their wedding day, but Arjak had faced many horrors in his life and he knew that he would be as happy as he ever could be on the morrow. Thinking back, all that time ago, to when she first saved him from the Nephilim, Arjak could not shake the feeling of fate when he met her. Yes, she was beautiful.. stunningly so, but he never imagined marrying her beyond his most fantastical dreams. Yet, here he stood, separated from her until the morning when their rings would be placed on their fingers. What then? He was High King or Norgard, the leader of an entire nation. Would he leave the crown to his stewards and continue to venture with his comrades, and see their plight through to the end? Or would he and Ciara stay in Sonata and rule as King and Queen, sire heirs and be just another pair of kings and queens throughout history? No. Arjak was going to alter the course of history, back to the Sagas of Old, where Warrior-Kings and Queens lead their armies from the front and took their opposition by storm and steel. Ciara was definitely not a woman to settle until she was much older, and it would be wrong to make her change, because it was that free and wild spirit that Arjak fell so madly in love with.

    Epinala walked through the festive town, wearing clean clothes and his hammer, vordr, safely attached to his back. A light smile adorned his face as he waved to those he passed, some waving back, others shying away. He was completely overjoyed at the recent changes in the past month. He had become Thane of the Al Anduun, which had taken him aback quite a bit, and now his brother was getting married and had become high king of Norgard. He looked up, seeing Arjak looking down among the people, and he smiled more. “Who would have thought that you would ever get married? And that my one crazy plan would actually come true!” Epinala said, looking around the town once again. The people here would be united, and finally some balance would come back to their lands. He nodded again as a small bird landed on his shoulders, paper tied to his leg. Epinala quickly pulled it off and read through it. The scrolls from his hidden study rooms were being moved to a permanent study chamber he was having built from the main room. While his brother was more brute, Epinala enjoyed the arts of reading, and hell, someone had to record all this. It didn’t mean that he wouldn’t fight if need be, and would be glad to draw his hammer when he needed to, but he needed to start being responsible, and he wanted to start off with a strong foot. Tying a confirmation onto the birds leg, he sent it off while running up a near building that was low to the ground. Hopping along the top, he made his way towards the large castle, keeping his eyes on the people below who stared at him with curiosity and some shock. Shifting half way into his wolf form, which had changed during the past 2 months, he was no longer afraid to shift in and out with other people around. He danced around the steep castle walls, creating and collapsing small platforms made of earth to reach the top, landing on the platform that Arjak stood. Remaining as a wolf, he sat down next to Arjak, staring out at the people. “It’s nice to see this place in peace again; been a while since these people had something worthwhile to cheer about. Speaking of something to cheer about, are you ready for probably the biggest day of your life?” Epinala spoke to Arjak, watching the forms of humans rustling around, the scents of food and sounds of merriment weaving an intoxicating air around him.

    Arjak's eyes did not move from the grand courtyard of the castle when Epinala appeared, but a small smile tugged at his lips while his brother spoke. Finishing off the rest of his wine, Arjak spoke,

    "A moment, brother." Arjak held up a hand to Epinala and turned to the double doors at the far side of the room, "Feija," Arjak called and a young serving girl, perhaps seven or eight years younger than Arjak, entered the room and bowed to the two al'Andunn brothers. Her eyes lingered on her King for a moment before speaking,

    "Y-yes your grace?" she curtsied shyly, her face red as a beet. Arjak simply smiled and raised his goblet,

    "More wine, my dear girl. One of the Ascaran reds." Arjak's voice was its usual baritone, gruff and deep, but he was kind to those who served him. It was something that he forced himself to do, especially with the civilized serfs in livery. None of them responded well to a Druid's mighty bellow, even in mirth. The girl bowed and left the room as quiet as a church mouse. Turning back to Epinala, Arjak smiled,

    "My dear brother, our father trained me to lead and to fight. Not for this." he chuckled and rested his elbows on the handrail again, "I always assumed I would fight, drink, or fuck my way to the grave before I met the right girl, yet I found her. And to top it all, this the damned Chiefs placed this blasted crown on my brow..." Arjak took off the Iron Crown for a moment, rubbing the groove the metal band left in his brow. Sighing, Arjak placed the crown back upon his head,

    "I need her, Epinala. It is as simple as that. I knew I didn't have room in my heart for anyone else when I was with her in Ascara. I've done a lot of running away in my life, and I won't run any longer. I have the strength of Norgard behind me, and Ciara's heart beyond that. What could a man fear with that in his mind at all times?" Arjak looked out at the mountains in the distance, a soft smile on his face at all times. His smile turned in to a grin when his ears picked up the sound of Freija, the serving girl, approaching.

    "Good! More wine!" Arjak turned to face the door before it opened, and the white-dressed girl approached, presenting the bottle to Arjak, filling his goblet once he nodded in approval. Setting the wine bottle down on the nearby table, Freija looked up at Arjak, face still red and an all-too-familiar look in her eyes. The way her hands fidgeted with her dress and she bit down on her lip. Arjak could only look down at her and chuckle.

    "Is there... anything else I can do for you, your Grace?" Freija was young and foolish, but she had learned her sultry arts well. Arjak smiled and placed a hand on the girl's cheek, soft as silk. He looked her in the eyes as her skin flushed, looking as if she had been burned by the sun. Patting the girl's cheek, Arjak spoke,

    "You can leave the wine and clear your head, then go tend to my fiance." Arjak's voice was calm and steady and the serving girl huffed in embarrassment, walking briskly from the room. Permitting himself a mirthful laugh, Arjak took a gulp from his wine once more, "Care for a cup, brother? This wine is older than you are, and probably twice as smooth."

    “Still smoother than you, dear brother.” Epinala responded in retort, returning to normal. He grabbed the bottle and took a swig, letting the chilled red liquid cool his throat. He looked at the crown resting in Arjak’s hand. It probably wasn’t very comfortable, and probably would be easy to give up. He could feel the minerals hum inside of it, and looked back after the church mouse girl.

    “You are not the only one surprised by this outcome either. I figured I would continue to live in the woods, acting out my own skewed idea of the world. But hey, fate sometimes likes to throw you under the wagon, and then throw you a bone.” Epinala said, taking another sip of the wine and looking over. He rubbed at the slight dirt that had formed under the band across his forehead, but that was a minor mar to this day.

    “What is funny is that I have become thane. Figured you would carry that title and pass that along to one of your … probably 20 sons with how frisky you were.” Epinala smirked at Arjak, leaning against the banister as Raiden, his messenger bird, landed on his shoulder. Another scroll was attached to its leg, but he ignored it for now.

    “So,” Epinala started, raising the wine bottle, “ to new adventures and mending of old ways.” Chuckling, Arjak raised his goblet and clanked it with the bottle in Epinala's hand. Arjak had forgotten how much he missed the banter between brothers.

    "Smoother than me? Whose sheets was the serving girl trying to get in to?" Arjak chuckled, taking another sip. "Unfortunate for her, Ciara is the only one permitted between those sheets with me, and none other. They know this, yet they still try. Force of habbit, I imagine." Sitting on the handrail, Arjak continued to study his homeland from a perspective he never thought possible. It all still felt like some dream or fantasy, yet the tingling burn of the wine and the cold nip of the air told Arjak that it was all really happening.

    "I wouldn't give the title of Thane Andunn to anyone else. You are the only other son of Perrin, and Allfather forbid I give the title to one of our sisters." The High King had started to take another sip when Epinala mentioned children, causing the wine to catch in Arjak's throat and suck the air from his lungs, causing Arjak to cough.

    "That is your title to pass to your children. The Crown is mine to pass on to my children. Like you said, twenty or so." Arjak laughed uproariously, emptying his goblet and filling it again. "Look at me... one year ago the talk of children would have sent me running, but now..." Arjak shook his head and smiled, taking a heavy sip this time, "The thought is... warming."

    “She only wanted in your sheets because you’re the king, nothing more. And as well, I don’t think most non druid girls would go for the whole wolf thing. And I hear that. I don’t know if I will have any kids, because, who knows, maybe I will find that one girl, or go with a hoard. Never had to think like that.” Epinala said, looking up to the sky.

    He listened to the sound of the animals of the town, from the barking of dogs and the hissing of cats, even the squawk of the occasional gull hoping to snag a piece of bread before being shooed away from the food. Each one sung in his ear in different voice, building the words in his head to the a roaring din. It reminded him of how different Arjak and he were. While Arjak had strength and leadership behind him, seeing the people as a whole and cohesive mass, wanting to protect all, Epinala saw the individual, desiring to find the solution for each one.

    “So, ever think we end up here? Not Here here, but us together, chatting like we are two fresh welps still wet behind the ears. Now we are here, planning a wedding after all that fighting, you ruling Norgard, and me as High thane? Not even in my wildest dreams, and I have had plenty, did I ever imagine that I would be in this position. How about you, brother?” Epinala said, that word tasting familiar on his tongue, thought it could have been the wine at this point.

    Arjak chuckled, thinking as he stared in to the bottom of his goblet. There was much he wanted to say, but he was unsure how to express it.

    "I hoped for it, though I never thought a day like this would come. I never dreamed of it." Arjak took a sip, emptying his goblet once more and sighing contently. "Yet here we are, leaders of Norgard, each in our own right. The lives of every citizen rests on our shoulders. We stand on the precipice of history..." Arjak looked his brother in the eye, the High King's thick arms folded over his chest, "What matters now is what kind of imprint we leave on history. In a thousand years, how will we be remembered? Will I be the liberator, or the usurper?" Arjak finally set his cup down and ran his fingers through his long black hair.

    "And you are still wet behind the ears, little brother. Mother is not around to make sure you washed properly, it seems" Chuckling, Arjak gave his brother a firm jab at the shoulder. Arjak would continue with the small talk with Epinala. It took his mind off of the wedding and it was a better way to kill time than drinking himself in to a nervous stupor while he waited for his other visitors to come by.

    (A Kris, Koti~, StormWolf, and Mysteria thang!)

    There's nothing more deadly than slow growing fear...
    Spoiler: Mysti's random stuff and shoutouts. 




  7. #7
    Member Rook's Avatar
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    Norgard: Toria – Marketplace


    Black spots swam before his eyes. Faieth hadn't slept, not in a very long while. But unfortunately (For him, in his own mind. For plot it's awesome), that wasn't why his vision had gone. For a moment, he thought he saw something. Heard something.


    “Um... Son, are you ok?” a raspy, feminine voice asked as his fingers massaged his temples. He looked up. Fuck. The herb merchant. “Where in the seven hells was I just there...”



    “Yes, yes, I'm ok, sorry about that. I was somewhere entirely different. Where was I... A yes, a bushel of Belladonna leaves, three ounces of Aloe Vera, another bushel of Chamomile, and the Ginger Root.” He said, placing his payment on the table. She packed it all up into the sacks he had provided at the beginning of the transaction. And before long, he was back in his covered cart, with everything packed away, and then he urged his horse onward.



    As they traveled the the back roads of a more quiet district of town the silence set in. The clop of hooves and the creak of wheels began to take on a different tone. Further away. Echoing, as if he was in deep water. And then, suddenly those swimming black spots crawled back into his line of sight.

    ~~~~~

    Horrid images. Cruel, desert lands. Looming death. War.

    The darkness had blotted his vision entirely, a new, darker reality began to set in.

    Destructive creatures of dark creation, spilling blood with every unnatural motion. Dark cloaked figures, grisly weapons in hand.

    And then peace. A cold, ice laden city. And a soft voice, as soothing as those chilly winds he could have swore he could feel, whispered in his ear.

    "Sonata... The Flame still burns."

    ~~~~~

    He pulled the reigns. Hard. His vision cleared even more suddenly than it had faded. Had he been driving the carriage the whole time? What was that? Why did he suddenly feel as though he needed to get to the Capital, as if it was his calling.

    He shrugged it off, and the thought was left ignored for a more immediately important question. Where was he?

    He lifted one of the side flaps of the awning over his seat. Three people, and a enormous, walled building. He looked the building over. The signs and high walls brought back memories. Orphanage.

    Young children without parents. He remembered that deep, cutting feeling of longing. His little town hadn't had an orphanage. He stepped down, leaning on his cane, left leg held straight. The people were ignored as he stared past the open gates up to the door at the top of the steps. His right hand came up, stroking the neck of the young horse, willing it to stay steady as he began to limp to the carriage's back doors.

    A smile grew to his face as he glanced over his stock, and then, he gently began to place vial after vial into a large bag. By the end, his medicine stock was dwindling, and he reached for his notes. Unceremoniously, he tore a page from the book, and folded it, placing it in his breast pocket.

    And then, he simply limped past the gates, bag slung over shoulder, and passed the congregated people wordlessly, only acknowledging their presence with a short glance from under his black hood and a smile.

    The stairs were a challenge. With cane and right foot the only things doing the work, it took him twice as long to climb as it would a normal person, but he was good with that stick by now, so it wasn't too arduous.

    Reaching the top, he simply knocked. Moments later, a woman, middle aged opened, quizzical look on her face.

    "Can I help you?" she asked. This wasn't a person she had ever seen, even around town. Faieth returned her quizzical expression with his own, the difference being that it was mixed with the polite smile of an oblivious man.

    "This is an orphanage, yes?" He began, to which she nodded. "I made a decent haul today selling my wares in the market. I do have quite a bit of overstock though. I was an orphan myself. I know how bad it could be for these kids, and I really respect anyone willing to devote their life to helping kids like this lead a life probably far better than they did on the streets. I gotta say, if I had someone watching over me back then, things would probably a lot different for me. That said, I won't waste anymore time going over my life story. It's not pretty and it's not that interesting. What I'm getting at is, here." He said, dropping the bag from his shoulder and holding it out for her.

    When it was taken, he reached in the pocket, and handed her the page from his notes.

    "This is a copy of the dosages for each of those medicines, what they do, and the vials are labeled." He said, turning. "Take care of them. You do good by them, and if they turn out anything like me, karma dictates good things are coming." he said, beginning his long trudge down the steps.

    At the bottom he stopped, glancing the strangers over one more time. He was waiting for a break in conversation. The vision was prodding at his mind again, and all he wanted to do now was ask where he could find a room for the night and a good meal.

  8. #8
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    Default Norgard; The Beginning of the End

    The posse of fooled, grisly, and angry men abandoned by Devon had eventually gone their separate ways, leaving Brem to be the bearer of bad news. Trudging through the cold, harsh land, Brem set out to Sonata, his brow furrowed and expectations shot. "If I ever see that bastard again, I swear..." The hunter wrapped his cloak tighter around himself as a nearby squirrel perked up and sniffed in his direction. "Not you," Brem reassured the creature. He often found himself forgetting that they could understand him in the first place. It was a secret he liked to keep from those that hired him, as Bremmigen figured that surely they would see profit in a hunter who could lure animals into his traps with his voice, had he wanted. But Brem never used his gift while hunting. He did have some scruples and determined that such a thing was wrong, deeming it an unfair and cruel trick.

    After a few days of travel and silent rage brewing under the surface, the hunter made it to Norgard and headed for the capital. The queen would surely be furious, he thought. So he began reciting in his head what he would say, should she focus her discontent upon him. "Maybe it would make her feel better if she knew we hunted Devon down and failed to. We at least tried to find him..." The thought of not reporting back at all briefly ran through Brem's mind, and he silenced it almost as quickly as it had come. "And then what? Come back to Norgard and have a bounty on my head or something? Not a chance," he told himself. "Can't risk that."

    He found himself in the capital of Sonata in time to discover that the queen who had sent them on their failed journey was no more. The words had passed right through him, as he had never really cared what went on in the kingdom anyway and was relieved to be spared from any possible anger or further inquiries as to where Devon might be. All he knew was that his job for now was done and that if he ever came in contact with the snake again...it would not end well. Unsure of where to go from there, Brem wrote to his mother, sent her half the money he'd earned recently, and spent a small bit of what he kept for himself on a drunken night on the town.

    In his drunken stupor, Brem eventually found himself in the company of three pretty young girls in the tavern who had seated themselves on either side of the huntsman, gabbing away about some wedding. "This is what happens when you don't make conversation with women you intend to bed," he told himself wryly. Attempting to join the conversation, Brem said, "Weddings aren't exactly my thing, but I've been told this is supposed to be a huge deal." In truth, he knew nothing of the wedding, or who was getting married for that matter. Anything to get one of the girls to pay attention to him again. The three snapped their eyes back to the man they had so quickly forgotten about, the one on his right side hooking Brem's arm in hers as she squealed, "I know who I'm taking to accompany me, then!"

    "Free ale, remember, Brem. Free ale, and free food...and possibly another night with this one," he told himself on the day of the event. He still had no idea who was getting married or what was going on, but Mae, the girl he'd met at the tavern the other night seemed ecstatic at his side. She led him around by his hand, which Brem didn't like one bit. "Good God, what has gotten into women these days? Have to have their men in sight and nearby at all times? No. Just this one. Why do I get myself into things like this?" He knew it was because of his drinking and irresponsibility. He often got himself into trouble the day after a night on the town. Starting fights, making false promises, leaving behind a trail of scorned lovers, both male and female. He shrugged inwardly and kept telling himself, "Free ale, free food...possibly another frisky encounter in the near future."

  9. #9
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    Default An interview with three very pissed off elemental warriors...

    Somewhere in Sigard

    "Gwen! Gwen wait!"

    Deep blue eyes opened wide as Joseph lay on an unfamiliar bed. His mind raced as he thought of the nightmare he just awoke from. His body was drenched in sweet and his breathing heavy. However, before he could think about the dream too much a throbbing in the back of his head started to bring himself back to reality. With the exception of the fluorescent light about the room was dark. It was obvious that the light of day was a stranger to this room, but considering the circumstances so was he. Remembering how it was he had gotten there Joseph began to wander just how long he had been out. As for where he was, considering the events that lead of up to now, it was easy for Joseph to take a guess.

    Knowing that there was no way he could change his fate now Joseph sat up, but as he did his head pounded with pain. Grunting in pain Joseph placed his right hand over his forehead as if in an attempt to stop the throbbing. After a moment Joseph looked around at the room. Other bed like the one he sat upon now filled the room and it was from these beds that Joseph knew he was in the infirmary in Sigard. He was not in the room alone, however. "How long have I been out?" Joseph finally asked as he looked over to where No. Vii and VIR were standing. When he did a third person caught his attention, causing his eyes to grow wide and his mouth to gape open, "Gwen".

    Gwen looked down at him with a cold glare. A moment passed before her hands slowly moved for the weapon resting within her belt. *cling* the blade sang as she removed it from the scabbard, she lingered on the moment of pressing the sword slowly over his chest. As her hands reached over his throat and the sword pressed down his chest, there was no second guessing. She wanted to kill him.

    "So after two months, the rouge warrior finally wakes. Thought for a while I hit you a little too hard back in Norgard." VIR was still in possession of Joseph's sword, keeping it comfortably notched underneath his own sword as he began to advance toward Joesph while dragging a chair behind him. He placed the chair about two feet away from Joseph, with the back of the chair facing his bed. VIR then sat on the chair like mounting a horse and rested his hands on the top of chair, then his chin on his hands. He took his time with each movement made to approach Joseph before he spoke next. "I'm pretty sure everyone has plenty of questions for you concerning your...absence." VIR reached out a hand to slowly and calmly move Gwen's blade to a non-lethal area. "Though your activities outside of Sigard don't concern me, I do have one question. Why? Why leave?"

    As the silence grew No.Vii watched the scene unfold with a slight tapping of his left foot, his fingers clenching and unclenching on his sword. He was restless and getting annoyed at having been confined to the compound for training for war. That thought alone excited him, but the waiting had been bugging him a lot, making him irritable.

    “Are you going to gut him already?!” No.Vii said in a very aggravated tone, staring at Gwen while breaking the tension in the room. Blade already halfway out of his sheath, he stared down at the man known as Joseph, malice and pent up anger plainly visible.

    “Cause if not, I will gladly do it. I mean, blood is going to be spilt, might as well stop beating around the bush and do it already.” No.Vii followed up, fingers tapping along the edge of his blade in a methodical rhythm.

    "Not yet", Gwen uttered, "But I will.... according to his answer", she looked down at Joseph, waiting for his answer as well.

    Just then a soft knock at the door, "I see that he is awake", said a cold low voice which all of them knew. They turned around slowly, looking at Jared as he entered, "Follow me then, Your next mission is up, my warriors."

    Duty called, and Joseph was safe...for now.

    {From the minds of Troy, Kris, myself, and Koti~}
    <img src=https://i41.tinypic.com/2z6t8j4.gif border=0 alt= />

    You can't wrestle with your demons without becoming stronger in the process.
    The trick is to not grow horns yourself.

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    Leonie had imagined this moment for months and was now feeling the first-hand effects of disappointment. Although not confident in her estimate, she was sure that it had been weeks since she'd arrived in Norgard, or had at least spent that time in the snow. And it was only upon her arrival, that her hate for the cold had reached its full extent.

    She was entering her second day in the capitol, the place of her childhood, but hadn't experienced anything close to deja vu. The only familiarity that she'd found, was a lone Evergreen tree that she'd past not long before. That, along with a memory that was tickled when she stuck her bare foot into the snow, of being buried alive by the mind-numbing cold. But just the thought of that happening to her as a child was enough to stiffen her spine, so she suppressed any subtle hints that the city's history may offer her. It was a decade, after all, since she'd walked on the land, and a decade that continued on without her presence.

    Skimming a local marketplace, she was quickly sorted from the elegant dress of the capital-dwellers, compared to her dressed-for-practicality attire. The unruly trim to her arctic fur coat, paired with the seal-skin leather pants, seemed suddenly rogue beside the softer, flowing materials that were accustomed to this part.

    Hauling the leather sack onto her other shoulder, she stretched the sore joint and headed to the first sight of warmth. As she shuffled her last few coins around in her balled-up fist, she scored the rustic pub for the shadows of the town; the ones who either went intentionally unnoticed, speaking their secrets in the most hushed of voices. Every city had their fare share of these devoted gossipers and if she were to get the answers the was looking for, then her last few coins were to be put to good use.

    What she didn't recognize, however, was how terribly unwanted she was from the land. Her parents had been exiled a decade prior to the upcoming winter and were a sore reminder to the unforgiving town. And if the strictly-foreign dark features, or her almost indistinguishable similarity to her mother, weren't enough to resurface the crime, then her cursed surname would suffice.

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