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Kris
12-13-2009, 10:27 PM
Prologue

"I recall as if it was today
always there by my side
you are reason, and relief to my pain
and one day we will reunite", Kamelot.

A part of a letter writting to high priest of Ivalor from the Emperor of Esgares Empire, Evinadav II:

http://classics.artsci.wustl.edu/files/classics/secondary_inline/Papyrus1.jpg

"Dear high Priest,
It has been a year since you have provided me with your holy assistant. For the last few years there have been a great improvment in my illness, and just the other day I was able to take a walk by myself. I must say that your holy people are indeed powerful and fearsome and I thank you for sending him, despite you being part of the unity of the east. I thank you. I promise that if I live it I'll try my best to keep peace around.

Emperor Evinadav II"

A reply was sent soon after

http://www.thekeytoislam.com/en/assets/images/g_letter_heraclius_rome.jpg

"Your highness,
Forgive me but we did not know about your illness, for any matter about your health was never to be published outside your borders by the order of the prince, so we heard. Therefore, we have never sent any aid to you. We are still willing if you wish us to.

High Priest, Tik-va"

But apparently the letter never reached the Emperor. Rumors said that it has something to do with his son. 2 years later the condition of the Emperor was for the worst and he died. His son, Morgan, inherit the throne.

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

11 years later.

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Chapter 1- Requiem For The Innocent

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Esgares Empire- Capital Logres

He heard the footsteps behind him, yet the young lord didn't notice them or at least pretended to never hear them.

"You called for me m'lord?".

The youth didn't even bothered to turn around and look at the man who entered the throne room. He passed his gentle long nailed hands upon the colorful glass of the window and continued to look through it, "Has answer been given from Ascara?".

The soldier didn't answer at first, and the silence was what made the young lord to look behind him, “Well?”, he asked.

"Sire.... The Sultan has personally disposed of the emissary we sent"

The young man gave a small, somewhat frightening, smirk, "I see..."

"M'lord....".

Only now did the young lord actually took the time to look at the emissary before him. He bowed down, his head lowered and his body was half covered in that pose, but the youth could see, without even looking at the man's face, that he was frightened, perhaps because he didn't expect the young emperor to accept the news. His cloths slightly moved as well, also indicating that the man was unquiet or rather shivering.

"Begone", Ordered the young lord who merely lifted his right hand and pointed at the large door at the end of the great hall.

"Oh, yes! Yes Sire!", The solider's face shone with glee, "Thank you, oh great emperor, thank you!". The soldier jumped up from his place and stormed out of the place.

Alone again, the young man smiled to himself. He fixed his blue robe and turned to take his place upon his golden throne.

It was then that the room was suddenly darkened. The sun was somehow magically blocked and no ray of light was able to entered through the window. The young man, however, seemed to be apathetic to everything that has been going on around him, "You must work on your entrée, Emonalach"

A shadow appeared out of the blue and made it's way for the center of the hall. Little by little it was shaped, taking the form of a human. The shadow-human moved closer to the throne, "You called, Emperor Morgan?"

"I have offered the Sultan of Ascara a generous offer....", started Morgan to say.

"Yes, In return for having Abad Al Aziz's daughter you will agree to offer Ascara a place in your new order", said Emonalach.

"He refused", said Morgan.

"Your orders?"

Morgan got up from his throne and walked for the window, "Can you at least bring back the sun? I am not so found of the darkness... Rather depressing really..."

Emonalach closed his eyes and when he reopened them the light was restored to the room. The beauty of the hall was shone as the candles in the grand golden Chandeliers above were lit by themselves.

"Not exactly what I wanted... But I guess it will do. As for the Sultan, well... I want you to kill his daughter"

"Princess Jasmine?"

Morgan nodded his head, "I don't want it to look like it was something coming from our side... let it be... a man from Chanclera or even Norgard... The Sultan has always rejected magic... Just imagine what he might think when a mage will kill his own daughter..."

"He won't think, He will act", said Emonalach in a cold tone.

"Exactly", smiled Morgan, "Can you smell the war coming already?"

An evil smirk appeared below the gentle shaved handsome beard of Emonalach. He looked at Morgan with blue lifeless cold eyes, "Yes... Yes I can...."

***

Chanclera- City of Lothian

Perhaps it was some change in the climate, Perhaps it was just his wild imagination, but something was not acting right. Some long time before, he couldn't even recall when, the pack started to act weird all at once, hunting outside of their marked territory and even howling at strange hours and then rumors about Queen Kasilica started to spread like wild fire and young girls went missing.

People were scared to leave their houses and the connection with the spirits was starting to get dim, until it faded almost completely. It took him a long while to come with his last decision, but being the Thane, Arjak couldn't ignore the facts anymore. He heard there were other druids around the world, their ways different from what he knew, but he hoped that there, at his kin's homelands he might find the answer.

But now... Now that he was walking upon the lands of the ever-growing forest of Chanclera, he started to have a second thought about finding the answers...

Standing before him was a tall creature with no clear shape or color. Looking at the ghost before him made Arjak feel, for the first time in a long while, a feeling that was very close to fear. He was unable to move, or for that matter even breath.

'What... What is that?!'

Every part of his body yelled for danger, yet his mind was lost in some kind of a trance. He wanted to fight, but at the same time he wanted to sleep and then, just when he almost lost his consciousness, a bright light pierced through his closed eyelid. Someone, or something was making it and it seems to effect his new 'friend' which now backed away and disappeared.

Arjak's senses returned to him all at once, making him a bit dizzy at first but he was able to catch a quick glance at his savior, a black haired maiden holding a torch.

"Come, it is not safe to stay here alone”, she said and was already on her way.

Maybe she leading him to her house? Arjak could care less for now. He wanted answers and more importantly he wanted to get away from this place as fast as he could.

***

From the flora behind them, Otus was watching the two. He recognized the female as 'Ciara', an immigrant who studies the ways of the local druids. He didn't knew who the man was, but judging from his clothing Otus realized he might be an outside as well, but something irked him. There was something about the man that felt very close to Otus... But why was it?

He started to follow the two. He knew far more then the girl about the dangers, yet he was sure that his and her knowledge about those mystic shadows was pretty much the same. Now he needed to choose rather to follow them and learn more about the man or go back and report.

***

Ascara- Port Town of Tamurn

Kilyna cursed under her breath. She was so busy in her rage that she didn't notice how many drinks she already cleared out. 'The Reverse Angel' and her beloved crew now captured and she didn't had any way to get them out.

"Whoy! Don't you think you had enough Missy?”, asked the bartender, trying to prevent her from drinking the next glass, but Kilyna simply grabbed his hand and stroke hit with a deep gaze, while gritting her teeth. The old bartender was hardly impressed but decided to let go and as soon as he did, the liquid was already half way into her belly.

Nothing could have bothered her now.... Or at least so she thought...

"Quick bartender, we need some bandages"

Two men stormed into the bar, carrying a wounded man. The people sitting around the tables stopped everything they did in order to check up on the new comers yet some quickly lost interest and returned to do their business.

"I betcha he was 'ounded by th't ghouls", whispered one man.

"Yeah sure, and little lady tooth fairy visited me last night. Awesome night it was", said a muscular man who enjoyed the last tips of his glass. They all looked at him somewhat surprised.

"What?", he asked once he noticed their glares.

"Yar din't believe th't?".

"Of course not", said the man.

"But that's the 10th victim already", said another man.

Kilyna noticed that at the far end of the pub a person was listening carefully to the talk.

"I'm sure it's just another drunker gotten into some messy fight", said the first guy again

"But.. They were all missing some body parts... All saw and describe the same thing... all..-"

It was then that the person got up from his place and stormed out of the room. Kilyna felt the urge the follow, but at the same time she felt like finishing yet another drink, for the sight of the wounded man before her was too much to stand.

***

Laya lowered her hood. She didn't like at all what she heard back there in the pub. Those events of strange shadows around only increased in number recently and above all... It all happened ever since the emissary from Esgares left...

Kris
12-15-2009, 08:27 PM
Ascara- Port Town of Tamur
[A week before the story begings]

While cleaning the short dagger at the necromancer's clothing he let out a small chuckle before looking again at the small blade and tossing it aside. Funny how that same thing was supposed to find his own heart as a target while the old bones for a hand used it but the well trained assassin slipped it away from his grip.

Getting up from the dead body he looked around as if only now realizing he was inside a room. It was a strange chamber which contained Skulls, books and some captured bugs in a jar. If the guy was to be alive again he might have killed him once more just because of his weird way of decoration.

He hated Necromancers...

"You really didn't have to go that far, Cronus”.

Cronus eyes popped wide open but he remind frozen in place as if not to let the new comer see that he took him by surprise.

"So... Did you knew I was here all along?”

'All along?!', the thought crossed the young man's mind before he answered, "No sir.... I failed to notice you...”

"You keep letting your hatred blind you, child”

The man stepped forward letting the dim light of a single candle which was the sole survivor of the destruction of the room to lit his features. Cronus needed to take one quick look and to recognize the person who was one of the six elders and one of the most respected in the clan, Lierioan.

"So it wasn't him?”

The question caused Cronus to look back down at the corpse of the mage, "No sir. We followed him some days, hoping that he might be the one creating those shadows. For what aim? The elders didn't care. They choose actions of zero tolerance, getting rid of anyone powerful enough and evil enough to do such thing. But they were wrong to assume that he is our guy”

"As I guessed... They started to appear in our lands of Chanclera long before appearing in Ascara and therefore we never had a clean lead, But it seems Ascara isn't the source after all”, said Lierioan, “I really don't get it. In Chanclera they could be found at any given time, but in the desert they can be seen only at night. Why is that, I wonder...”

"There is still one left-!”

"Huh?”

"One more powerful mage is left in town. He might just be the one responsible for...”

"He is clean”, said Lierioan.

"He is still a necro-”

"I don't need a raged greenhorn like you to tell me what he is”, snapped Lierioan.

Cronus kept a poker face but he was clearly offended by that remark, "I am what I am. But I wonder about your motive. Your tone just now is more then enough to tell me that you are hiding something...”

Lierioan chuckled, “Gee... No wonder they choose you for this mission. But remember this kid, ignorance sometimes is a bliss. But you will know about my 'motive' soon enough... Maybe even by the time you get back here”

"Get back?”.

"Of course. We have some new lead... Ivalor”

"Why there?”

"Let's say that the elders suspect that the holy city isn't that holy... Well... Not anymore...”

Cronus rubbed his chin, “What do I do there?”

"For now... You just spy”

***

The beautiful woman looked up at her elderly master, her eyes glowing in the dark.

"So you had the same dream again, Morta?”

The woman nodded, “Yes. This time it was very clear. A caged woman, her eyes closed, was telling me to find a fire which she called 'hope'. She told me I would find a lost friend as well and that I will be needed to free the souls that were captured without right”.

The master nodded, “You were guided to me by the same dreams. You, my dear child, have the most strongest link to life of all my students and you made a wonderful progress while in my care...”

"He will come tonight, that guy Lierioan?”, asked Morta.

"Yes. I lived my life and I regret nothing. Whatever this young man wants from me doesn't have anything to do with you, that's why I ask you to leave on your quest. I'm sure the spirits of life will guide you to that old friend of yours”

Morta nodded and left the room like she was nothing but a cool breeze. She gave one last look at her master before she closed the door behind her.

***

Ivalor- Port of Hope
[Current time]

The nightlife of that port town were very different from the strict holy life of the rest of the kingdom. Since the place was the meeting area of cultures of people came in and out of Ivalor, this town allowed itself to be somewhat cut off in terms of drinking and wild nights. You couldn't find stuff as good as in this city in the whole continent. Actually you couldn't find stuff like that at all for the policy of the holy bans.

The faith of Ivalor spread all over the world and the people that came to get blessing from the priests supplied the money for the Markets and shops which continued to grow. Some often wondered why the government which supported the isolated police of sanctity even allowed such place to exist. Some said that bribes were involved and some thought that the higher ups realized that humans cannot enter such a holy land without having some sanctuary for sins, meaning that without this town the tourists' level will decrease.

Dravon Shylock, one of the most respected Trader has arrived lately to open his store in his usual spot. Since he was blessed with an amazing skill for business he realized that owning a place in this port gonna be paid off in the end. His previous trading was in Sigard, but remembering that there was some kind of holiday approaching he rushed back in here.

Little did he knew that another guy was following him all over from Sigard. His name was Symon Novikov who was in need of goods that could only be found at Dravon's place.

***

Ivalor-Capital Camelot

"You called for me, High priests?".

Helena entered the room, bowing her head slightly before fixing her gaze looking straight ahead at the three priests who stood before her. All were dressed in red robes.

"Yes, you see, there is a growing ill omen at the far kingdom of the desert...", started the oldest looking of the trio to say.

"Don't tell me", Helena sighed, "The dark ghosts". The rumor of mystic beings spread like wild wind, telling of shadows appearing in Ascara, dark images walking at night around the desert, yet like most things she heard in her life, Helena dismissed it as another fable.

"Indeed", said the priest who stood to the left of the first priest who spoke, "We want you to look into it".

"Ivalor is a peace loving country which does not take interest in others' business", said Helena with anger.

"Watch your manners and tone while speaking to us, Paladin", said the third one. His name was Father Boglan, the high priest Tik-va second in commend and the man Helena hated most, "Let me remind you that some matters have changed in our view of life this last war... I believe so did yours..."

Helena tighten her fingers upon the hilt of her spear and tried her best to calm herself down. She knew they were talking about her father's death., "Why is High Priest, Tik-va, not present?", she asked after a long moment of silence.

The first two looked at one another, somewhat lost for words, while Father Boglan spoke with calm, nonchalant voice, "This is none of your concern". He gave the other two a dark look, as if to threaten them not to tell anything, "You will be on your own, Paladin", He said after he turned to look at her again.

"Why is that?", asked Helena.

"Because it's not in Ivalor's nature to look into other people's problems", he said, a grin forming upon his face as he repeated her own words, "One paladin looking around is a rebellious individual. Patrolling squad has invitation for war... don't you think so too, young Paladin?"

Helena was too surprised to say anything.

"Dismissed”.

Helena didn't need to be told twice before she stormed out of the consuls' house , knowing that for some time now those three wanted her out of the picture. Something was going on within the walls of the holy city. The suspicion first arose the moment their ruler, high priestess Noa, was forced into bed by strange illness, allowing the council to have more power then it already had. Ever since then, no one talked about her and now that the elder of the council, High Priest Tik-va, was not present in this meeting....

'Something is wrong...'

The idea of the high ranked priests scheming was revolting by its own and despite the fact she knew it for some time, she decided not to bring it up around her comrades for they were holding an ace up their sleeves which was her mother. Ever since the death of her father, her mother was not the same. Because of some rules which were made by people with old superstition, her mother was to be banished outside the city long ago for the condition of her mental state, but the high priest Tik-Va was fighting very hard to change some laws and accept new ways of healing methods.

Yet now, the high priest was not present and no one standing by Helena's side anymore. If she would dig deep into it, her mother might suffer, which meant that she needed to obey... for now.

***

“Excellent work, lady Avari”.

Wren was breathing heavily. This late spell she has casted took a lot from here, but she was able to save the dying man and earn a nice comforting hand on her left shoulder from her teacher, Father Augustine. Wren blushed slightly and quickly dropped her gaze.

The teacher noticed it, “Don't be like that, lady Avari. You did well and you earned that compliment”

“Thank you sir”, she said weakly, trying her best to keep her emotions in check.

Father Augustine chuckled, “It won't be long before you will pass me. I expect much of you, child. I hope that you will earn a number someday”.

“You want me to be in the consulate of the twelve!?”

“I know it's a bit early to speak of it, but number 9, father Vincent, is getting ahead in age and-”

Wren stroke him with a puzzled look.

“Yes, I know that currently only men were able to take the sits, but with high priest Tik-va, I'm sure that one day even women will-”, Father Augustine said and added, “Only if you wish for it, of course...”

Wren smiled, “Who knows... but... I'll still have to think of it”.

“Of course”.

“I'd better leave. I must rest”, Wren removed herself from her teacher not before noticing that a man came by. From the way that he was dressed, she could tell that he was an emissary sent from the high priest. She was already too far away but she did picked up some lines such as that father Augustine was called for a quick meeting in two days and that all the twelve were summoned as well.

But Wren was too tired to notice this and she headed for her house to rest.

***

"You're leaving? Why so sudden, Captain Leviticus?”.

Helena found herself standing before General Octavius. Despite the fact that the high priest did openly favored her, he never truly allowed her to slack in her job as a paladin. He always knew that she had the potential to become a General, but Helena long ago decided to give up on rising in ranks. She might have also gave up on being paladin at all if it weren't for the high priest.

Despite the fact that General Kolgrim Octavius had better things to do then train a stubborn student such as Helena, he did respected the high priest new task.

"I'm sorry to tell you this in such a short notice. I was informed only recently myself”, said Helena coldly.

"I still don't get why”

"I can't say”

Kolgrim was no fool. He only just recently came back from another great mission, but he quickly learned of the hate deal between Helena and father Boglan. He was also one of the few to realize that the high priest Tik-va's mysteriously disappearance had something to do with Boglan, yet like the others he didn't wante to openly go against him, that is, of course, not until clear evidences were brought before him.

"Forgive me, I better get ready. I must leave early morning tomorrow”, Helena said and added, “Though it was a very short while, I enjoyed our training”, she said and turned to leave.

Kolgrim watched her as she walked away and realized that something very wrong was going on, but he couldn't allow himself to act against his superiors... Then again... He WAS a general... Meaning that he was given some autonomy and freedom.

Maybe he should join her mission....?

Mysteria
12-16-2009, 12:52 AM
Chanclera- City of Lothian

Ciara Anstruther had been walking through the surrounding forests of her cottage deep within the realms of Chanclera gathering a fresh supply of herbs when from above she heard her companion Reyes calling to her. Reyes was the Raven which kept her company. He was not hers, he answered to no man but they shared a special bond. He had called to her and was warning her of present danger.

Moving quietly through the forest Ciara stopped to take in the scene in front of her. A stranger to Chanclera was directly in front of her and had fallen under the spell of one of the mystical shadows of the forest. Ciara did not know a lot about these Shadows but she knew that they were all consuming and dangerous. Their only weakness was the light. Going to the mans aide she approached carefully with her torch in her hand hoping it would be enough to prevent the Shadow from taking him.

The man seemed to be dazed as the Shadow moved away. There was little time.

"Come, it is not safe to stay here alone” Ciara moved away quickly bidding the man to follow her to the safety of her small cottage. She did not speak again until they stepped inside the door and shut it behind them. They would be safe now. Offering him a seat she said "Stranger you should not be in these woods alone at dark, the forest can be a dangerous place for those unfamiliar to what it holds. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ciara Anstruther. I am more commonly known to all who reside within this forest as Raven."

She poured a pot of water and set it on the fire to boil for tea.

StormWolf
12-16-2009, 05:16 AM
It was a great risk, leaving the halls of his house to his sisters, but Arjak wanted to see the world. The rumors coming from the south were too great to pass up. Besides, when he returned with trophies and knowledge from the south, he would be revered a hero like his father was. In truth, Arjak al'Andunn wanted to further his knowledge of druidism past the shamanistic teachings he grew up with.

Indeed, leaving was a great risk. The Norgard had been exploring the forest outside the city of Lothian, troubled by the dreams he had, dreams that only became eerily true. Being a Wolf Brother, Arjak can speak with wolves through mind and body just as well as two humans of the same language can. Just as with humans, bits and pieces of the conversation slip into the mind while one is slumbering uneasily; that is what is called a Wolf Dream.

The packs in this forest were at a severe unrest, a wildness and madness filled them. Arjak could hear it plain as day. The tall and burly man moved with surprising grace through the foliage and felled trees, though not as quiet as a wolf, he was the next best thing. His golden eyes scanned the dark forest, a place that seemed so much darker without a blanket of white.

Frost chilled the air, the old sinking into Arjak's bones. He felt that ball of ice in his stomach, his intuition, his sensitiveness to nature. Very few times has Arjak felt that pit of frigidness in his gut, and it had only been when something was penetrating nature's veil and touching things that should remain untouched. The Norgard turned to see a ghoulish shadow of a creature, the world becoming foggy, feeling as if his head was stuffed with wool. Blackness started to strangle the corners of Arjak's vision. His mind wanted to sleep, but his body wished to fight. Darkness creeping closer, deadly sleep so close. Then came the banishing fire, the light of the Allfather that made the specter seem to evaporate into thin air.

Arjak stumbled for a moment, his head feeling several sizes too big, like he had indulged too much in the mead. With his vision returning, he could make out a muted green blur holding a moving blur of light, likely a torch.

"Come, it is not safe to stay here alone” the person who saved him said in a quite feminine voice. Arjak rubbed his eyes to force those pools of molten gold back into focus. Indeed, it was a woman that saved him, and quite a fair one at that. Arjak couldn't help but laugh,

"Elayne will never let me hear the end of this one." his laugh died down to a chuckle as he stumbled after the woman who saved him, and now beckoned him to follow her.

The wordless walk irritated Arjak, the chirp of crickets was even worse. There were no crickets up in Norgard, it was too bloody cold for any of those vermin to survive. When the mysterious woman in green lead him through the door and into her cozy abode, Arjak's senses had finally been restored to their entirety. He humbly took the seat that was offered, taking the brief moment to scan his surroundings... then give this woman in the green dress a decent scanning of her own.

"Stranger you should not be in these woods alone at dark, the forest can be a dangerous place for those unfamiliar to what it holds. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ciara Anstruther. I am more commonly known to all who reside within this forest as Raven." she said before pouring a pot of water and placing in over the fire. Arjak smirked briefly, tilting his head in a wolfish manner, his golden eyes catching the light of the fire, making them seem to glow like the eyes of a canine did when they looked at a torch.

"'Tis truth you speak. It has been some time since I have seen the nature so disturbed." Arjak cleared his throat, running a hand through his thick, midnight black hair, "I beg your pardon, Miss Anstruther; I am Arjak al'Andunn of Norgard." The Thane thought it unwise to release too much information about himself to a person whom he just met, rescuer or no. If he died, his family would be disposed from the seat in White Forest, seeing as how he has no heir and no male sibling.

"I should thank you for saving me from.... whatever in the Allfather's name that bloody thing was that held me. I owe a debt to you."

Atrum Daemon
12-16-2009, 07:06 PM
Kolgrim had never been the type to be paranoid in any form. However, something about Captain Leviticus’ sudden needed departure did not sit right with him. He was still technically her superior officer and could easily insert himself into her mission using an excuse along the lines of not thinking she was prepared to handle something like this by herself.

Then there was the issue of Boglan. Openly opposing him was a bad idea without concrete evidence against him. Something was definitely wrong and Kolgrim was sure Boglan was somehow involved. He made up his mind, he’d be joining young Captain Leviticus on her mission as an observer of her ability. The priests had already learned that Kolgrim had a pension to simply do what he’d made up his mind to do whether they agreed with it or not. And more often then not, his doing so proved a good move. Of course, he could not just tell the priests that he was going to accompany her as it would arouse early suspicion of his intentions. He’d simply have to waylay Leviticus in the morning and join her whether she liked it or not. Even though she was only placed under him for training, he still outranked her, so there would be little she could really do in terms of stopping him from going. He’d leave instructions with his personal messenger to deliver the news to the priests long after he had left.

Kolgrim stood before his armor stand, a small silver goblet of wine in his hand as he gazed at the armor he had inherited. He’d gotten everything his family owned when he came of age. The house, the staff, and all things his family owned. The silver armor shined lightly against the firelight. The armor’s ornate design gave the impression that it was for show rather than combat, but Kolgrim knew better. Draining the goblet, Kolgrim left his personal armory, knowing he’d have to rise early in the morning to catch Leviticus.

Lacey
12-20-2009, 02:10 AM
Kilyna—Ascara—Port town of Tamur

Kilyna signaled the bartender for another drink, receiving a look that she usually got in Ascara. Of course, it could have been the fact that she needed to pay for all of the drinks, however many there were, and she’d shown no sign of having the money. With a small grunt, she slipped her hand into her purse and pulled out a few coins and flashed them to the bartender. He shook his head in either contempt or annoyance, she couldn’t tell, as he poured her drink, which she downed easily. The captain put the correct amount of money on the bar; it was no use attracting unwanted attention from not paying for a few drinks while she figured out how to get her cherished ship and crew back.

The smell of the wounded man made her bite the inside of her cheek. For all of her pirate toughness, the smell of blood—of someone losing that precious liquid—always made her knees weak. Luckily, she was also a very good liar and could hide this easily.

She stood, blinking in surprise as the world seemed to tip like a ship as she took her first step as if she were a cabin boy still getting his water-legs. I must’ve had more than I thought, she wrinkled her nose and took a few breaths, taking another step. The world was still moving but she could navigate it was more ease. Kilyna knew she should have a glass of very cold water, as it just might sharpen her dulled senses, but her pride wouldn’t let her turn around and ask the bartender for one.

Hoping desperately that she didn’t look like a complete fool, she followed the person who’d left the pub. Reflexively, she was about to call for her crew to come with her, momentarily forgetting their fate. She swore under her breath again, eyes infernos. They will pay, Kilyna thought, gritting her teeth.

A shadow passed over her and she looked up. A falcon screech made her smile, Nesera. Kilyna immediately wished she’d brought her heavy leather gloves so Nesera could give her some company. Lately, she’d been trying to find someone that could make her design of a leather strap that she could wear comfortably underneath her clothing so the falcon could perch there without harming her. The device would make on shoulder look somewhat deformed, but it would be worth it in the end.

She lowered her eyes from the sky, looking for the person—ah, yes, there he was.

Of course, she didn’t want the man to know she was following him; that could be embarrassing. Intending to seem completely normal and non-stalkerish, she strolled at an easy pace (as easily as one could when the earth insisted on making walking particularly difficult), looking at stalls every once in a while and chatting with the people who ran them. Many of them gave her dirty looks but they were all stubborn men. She’d only half mastered the art of blending in, though two of her crew could follow you for hours upon hours and you would never know—even if you suspected someone was tailing you—but she figured she was doing well enough.

Nesera disappeared and Kilyna figured he’d found a nice rodent to eat. The corners of her mouth twitched and she remembered the debate that had been going before someone had stolen two of the most important things in her life; the Reverse Angel and her crew. She knew the falcon was male, her closest companions (a.k.a., her crew) knew he was male, making him both smaller but faster, but she still refused to call him anything but Nesera. Her crew argued that she should change his name to something more masculine but she stubbornly refused. Nesera, she argued, was more feminine than she was at times. He preened often while she kept her man in a tie so she wouldn’t have to bother with its wind-tossed snarls.

Kilyna snapped herself from her train of thought, stopping and looking around like she was trying to figure out where to go: which was exactly what she was doing. A stream of curses went through her mind, where has that bloke gotten off to?

Heirosyth
12-20-2009, 05:04 AM
Ivalor- Port of Hope

"Where is he?!" the middle-aged Merchant Lord growled with impatience.

"I know not, Master Shylock," replied one of his assistants, a merchant in his own right who had at least enough sense to hitch his wagon to Draven's train. The decision served him well, and he received a healthy profit from working markets that other independant merchants were muscled out of, either unable to compete, or procure the necessary goods that people wanted, or able to buy off the local authorities as Draven had always done.

"Well I sent him out a week ago! Blast!" The black and silver haired Merchant Lord's temper was boiling and it was obvious to those present (of which there were three, not counting Dreeg, who sat in a dark corner wiping its nose on its arm and studying the gelatinous snot that glistened upon it with intense interest) that if some kind of answer didn't come soon, Master Shylock would likely take it out of someone's hide. Or their share of the earnings.

The three merchants in attendance of this little get-together would likely have preferred that payment come indeed from their hides instead. Still, they were all three of them powerless to do anything about the approaching storm of Draven's temper, and the three of them sat there, as mute and helpless as the goblin in the corner, though they were hardly as blissfully ignorant as it was.

The silence hung in the air like a terrible doom, suspended above them as the robed figure of Master Shylock passed back and forth, his fingers stroking his chin, his eyes focused, deep in thought, scheming, pondering, wondering; all his thought bent on the information that he didn't have, but sorely wanted. Just as it seemed it was going to suffocate them all in its hanging suspense, a boy burst into the tent, knocking the heavy flaps aside with a flourish. Both parties met the other with stunned silence, wide-eyed and surprised; many eyes upon two, mouths agape and lips parted.

"My Lord Shylock," the boy gasped, panting now for breath as though he had been running through the streets for an hour--for that is what he had in fact been doing, unable to locate the eminant Merchant Lord, who was not in any of the tents or shops littering the marketplace in the Port of Hope that he had previously checked. The young lad soon came to learn, as many did, that Draven Shylock had not one place of business, but many. Slowly but surely, in the guise of competition, "Master Shylock" had absorbed an ever growing number of competing merchants into his fold, who all seemed to be working against each other on the surface, but behind the scenes, all the profits came back to him. He always thought this was an effective way to do business--let people believe all of these different entrepreneurs were in it for their own gain, scrapping it out against each other; it lended the marketplace a vivacious air of fiesty scrapping.

Ha. Many of these scrappers now owed their very existence to his enveloping influence--for a relatively merciful share of their profits.

"Speak, urchin! What business have you with me?" he snapped at the boy, who still seemed stunned and in shock at having found the man he had so diligently sought.

"Y-y-yes, Master Shylock! It is you!"

"Yes, it's me, boy! What of your business, or shall throw you back out on the streets with nary a shred of clothes that you now wear threadbare upon your shivering, scrawny back! Speak!" Draven bellowed, intimidating the small rascal into nearly wetting himself.

"I... I was told to find you, sir," the boy began on trembling legs, "by Master Lucius Valorn, sir!"

"Master Valorn, you say?" Draven question, his eyes wide now with the mention of this name, for this was precisely the merchant he was expecting! "Where is he?!" Shylock roared, stepping forward towards the boy like a great gray lion.

"H-H-He's... he's..."

"Spit it out, or so help me, I'll have you attacked by a pack of wild feral dogs!"

"Dead, sir!" the boy nearly yelped with a cracking voice, choked with shivering fear.

"Dead?! How?"

"H-H-He s-s-said for me to tell you..."

"Yes? Out with it!"

"He asked me to ask..."

"What?!"

"I'm s-s-sorry, sir. He told me to tell you that your s-s-suspicions were right, sir. That there is war coming, sir. That he has witness things that s-s-says that things are happening, sir. Things you had him look into, sir."

"I knew it!" Shylock raised his hand and turned to face the other cowering merchants who wore wide eyes upon their faces. The Merchant Lord's normally dark glittery eyes shone with a bright gleam of triumph in the shifting light of the lamps as his long sleeves shifted, hanging loosely upon his arm.

"Knew what, sir?" Melius Blaylock, one of the three, asked, staring at Master Shylock in awe and wonder.

But Draven ignored him and turned round on the boy once more, and said, "What did he say to ask me? You spoke of asking me? What is it you meant to ask, boy?"

The boy, scrawny and puny as he was, however, just clasped his hands and bowed his head in fear.

"Speak, damn it! What did Master Valorn say for you to ask?!"

"He... said... for me... to ask-k-k... for..."

"Payment?!"

"yes," the boy muttered, barely audible.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" the Merchant Lord boomed with boisterous laughter, slapping his hand down upon the small desk beside him, startling the little goblin in the dark corner and the seated trio of merchants as well as the poor messenger boy, who really did have a stain growing upon his pants down that he tried to hide by pressing his skinny legs together. Draven Shylock then pointed his finger, bedecked by a thick gold ring inset with a ruby, at the boy with a big gleaming smile as the lad shrunk away, "You should've asked! My boy, you will never make a good merchant lord if you know not that even information has its price! Now begone, and the next time you bear something of value that someone else clearly wants, suggest at least some coin before you give it up so charitably, for charity does little to fill an empty stomach or provide you with a warm bed to sleep in! Remember this lesson well!" And with that, the boy dashed out of the tent, needing little encouragement to at least preserve what shred of dignity he yet retained by concealing the stain of wetness upon his pants.

Then Draven turned to face the other three sitting there. Holding out his hand, he raised an eyebrow and said, holding out his upturned palm, "Lords often lose their heads over information they do not have..."

The merchant trio needed no explanation, and each drew out the necessary sovereigns to pay for their share of such information as Draven now possessed, learning quickly from the example made of the street urchin, moments ago. Snapping up the gold coins, Draven turned and offered his share of the wealth.

"I've noticed the signs of conflict rising up in the whispers and rumors of the marketplace and taverns. Merchants travel, and merchants talk--there's no more reliable network of comings and goings than those who come and go--and I pride myself on being a trafficker of all goods, including stores of information, be they rumors or otherwise." The men all listened intently. "A week ago, I bade Lucius to retrieve for me what he could from the Port of Tamur. It is the Port by which emissaries from many other places come to Ascara, and through which they make their way to other kingdoms, carrying with them all sorts of goods and errands."

Draven looked into the oil lamp that was burning now, his shadow shifting upon the canvas of the tent. "It has come to my ears that Esgares has roused itself from isolation and slumber. As that is the one kingdom that I have not broached yet with my suppliers and traders, my cartel has been eager to gain a foothold within their ranks. But as you know, the Empire doesn't stir, it seems, unless it has some interest in the six kingdoms."

"Esgares... yes, a truly insular place, from what I hear," Geordis Dupont muttered. "Never been there myself; is home to many a legend though."

"Rumor was that their Emperor died not long ago..." Figoro Avon spoke up, adding his two cents.

"Ten years ago," Draven confirmed.

"That long?" Figoro replied, somewhat surprised. "Time passes so quickly, I sometimes forget how long ago it was that I was in Tamur last."

"So it seems that the agents of the Empire have recently come into Tamur in much higher numbers than before. My sources indicate that they have spread through the kingdoms and are, of course, not interested in trading. That means they're here for some other reason."

"What does this have to do with us?"

Draven smiled wolfishly at them.

"Because you three are going to be my emissaries into Esgares. You, Melius, are going to shark up some mercenaries for me."

"What... manner of mercenaries, Master Shylock?" Melius Blaylock asked in a trepidatious tone of voice.

"The needy kind. Find a band in a bind, my dear merchant, and buy them at the cheapest price, and you may keep the remainder of the sum that I will grant you. Believe me when I say that my man in Tamur will not release the sum at all to you if you have no proof of your deed being done," Draven eyed him with a glint in his darkened orbs, "And your family will have no trace of you if my money disappears without the mercenaries it is meant for. As Esgares is an island, I'll trust you'll make them seaworthy mercenaries."

"Understood, Master Shylock," Melius replied, not wanting to test the Merchant Lord's patience.

"You, dear Figoro," Draven spoke next to the sandy-haired merchant sitting next to Melius, "will travel the seas to Esgares, presumably with Melius's sharked up pirates, in hopes of buying information and a stake where we can set up shop, and begin getting a real line of information from the horse's mouth, so to speak. Merchants I know will pay good money for a crack at Esgares's citizenry."

"And I trust I'll uh... be staying here?" Geordis muttered with half-hopeful eyes.

Draven shifted his dark gaze to the inquiring third merchant and smirked, "Only if you wish to leave my service; I need someone to go back Sigard. If there is in fact something on the verge of war brewing in the kingdoms, assassins are going to be hired in greater numbers than usual. I'm going to need to make sure they work for me before they work for someone else. Go to Sigard. Talk to this man." Draven handed Geordis a slip of paper with a name on it attached like some tag to a lockbox about the size of a jewel case. "Hand him this," he said, "and be sure that only he sees what's inside. He'll know what to do with it." Geordis nodded reluctantly.

"Off you go then!" And without further ado, the trio departed, banished to their separate missions.

Several minutes later, Draven Shylock emerged from his tent and traveled to the marketplace with his standard-bearer in tow, loping along like a filthy little green chimp. When he approached one of his affiliate's tents, he noticed a long haired pale chap yammering on with the perplexed merchant across the table of goods. Knitting his eyebrows, he approached the odd-looking lad and merchant, eyeing them both, and inquiring to the merchant, who he recognized as Harris Baker, "Master Baker, is everything alright? No trouble with our customers, I assume?"

"No, no, sir," the merchant replied, "It's just that I can't figure out what this young fellow actually wants..."

"Well perhaps I can help with that," Draven replied and turned to the young man. "Master Draven Shylock, young sir... merchant around these parts of Ivalor," he extended a friendly hand towards the pale-haired callow youth. "What can I help you find today? I'm sure we have what you're looking for, for the right price."

Volkov
12-20-2009, 11:16 AM
Ivalor- Port of Hope

“Symon Novikov my good Master Shylock,-“the pale in skin and haired lad greeted in return with the upmost polite tone extruding from him for a time being. He extended his own white gloved hand- the one that was not in possession of keeping his rather odd staff from falling over- after turning to the friendly gesture of Draven to give a firm businesslike handshake, telling from his build even that seemed to be just one of the many odd things about him where what would seem frail and slouched was firm and strong. Symon was speaking seamlessly. Clearly. And coherently. Confidently without stutter contradictory to his slacked appearance as simple as a wheel turning without incident from his former yammerable conversation with the now perplexed merchant. The key being the lad was speaking at a joyless-exuberantly faster pace than possible comprehension for those whom paid half attention to regular conversation even for its coherency without pause and without requirement to stop for breath. And his expression nor tone not changing one bit from the slanted eyed neutral tact aside from the movement of his mouth. What would take a regular Housewife. Woodcutter. Or seamstress a few minutes to divulge with “ums” and “oh’s”. Symon was calculated in his words to the point that it’s possible he got across what he needed in a shorter amount of time than the required lot for the human brain to comprehend what someone just said. There being the cause of confusion and the wedge in communication.

“-Indeed I had been hoping someone or a place might be carrying a bottle of Dhawal- white herbs very difficult to find even more difficult to grow needing exact conditions, a bottle of peppermint leafs a more common rather widespread yet hybrid type of mint, dried slabs of zahira a fish lesser known about lesser cared about by most merchants yet desired and inquired by myself and turned away by many who did not have such a thing. No harm in inquiring here I suppose?.. One other thing if I may be so permitted to ask…”

The young lad for the first time in his long vocal pirouette forcibly held his tongue at the end of his long string of painted words. Speaking in a suspiciously laxer tone yet not letting up on the yammering tendencies of such his mannerisms.

“…Nay a thought in my mind tells me otherwise that I am in the wrong place for such a thing, a book that’s importance ranges like a single long thread from the moon to our very location- the Tomé del Resucitado-“

If Draven was able to catch this or anyone else perhaps red flags might go up upon a mental plane.
More than anything if Draven had some idea of what Symon was talking about he would know this was not something one would speak of in public unless someone was an utter fool. had a death wish. or was willing to risk a great deal.

The Tomé del Resucitado. Men have died. Bribed. Sold their families. Sold their dignity. Everything they worldly had for even the smallest bit of information to this book. Its location never stays the same for long. May it be in merchant’s hand. May it be in a cabin boy’s under duct resting place. The stories vary from place to place
In bars it’s called an impossible treasure for lunatics who want to raise their dead relatives.
To scribe and tome establishments they think it is a fairytale speak for treasure hunters
And To those who have extensive knowledge to things that must not be dealt with. They rumor it to be a powerful tool of intelligence for those who wish to understand the darker dealings of nature. The cruelty of how to destroy a being of flesh and use it for their own some may very well think it to be a crime against humanity to even brush up against the tome should it exist. Other parties think it’s a lovely collector’s item and so on depending on the person’s morals.
Yet if it meant nothing. Indeed it meant nothing such as if a tree fell in the forest with nary a person around.

As Symon went on there was the faintest but for his features perhaps most extreme change to him. A rise to his eyelids and to a slight smirk upon his lips, showing this subject was perhaps more to him, the glint in Symon's eyes through shady strands of pale hair suggested price was absolutely not a problem.

“-Or rather the Tome of the Risen If there is nothing to know there is nothing to know and if the produce I have listed does not exist here I shall bid you both a kind farewell and be on my way.”

Mysteria
12-20-2009, 11:40 PM
Finally being back in the safety of her abode Ciara settled herself into a chair opposite of the stranger and listened as he spoke. Studying his face by the light of the fire she determined him to be not only strong and handsome but also by the band he wore that he was apparently some form of nobility. Nobility meant little to Ciara. She did not measure the goodness of a person by their stature in life.

His eyes were an odd color which up until now she had never seen the likes of before. The smirk on his face when he spoke had not gone unnoticed by the druidess. Little went unnoticed to Ciara and in her mind she questioned just what had given him reason to smirk but as was usual with most things she knew the answers would be revealed to her in their own time.

When he finally spoke stating "'Tis truth you speak. It has been some time since I have seen the nature so disturbed." Ciara found herself to be nodding in agreement. Shaking her head yes she replied "Yes, something stirs the creatures of our forests and you yourself have encountered the dark shadows that have come to walk within our borders." The water had come to a boil prompting Ciara to rise from her chair and fill the cups that she had set out with the tea. Pouring two cups she placed one in front of the stranger and the other where she had just been sitting.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Anstruther; I am Arjak al'Andunn of Norgard. I should thank you for saving me from.... whatever in the Allfather's name that bloody thing was that held me. I owe a debt to you."

With a slight smile Ciara humbly bowed her head. "Tis my pleasure to meet you Arjak al'Andunn of Norgard. That was one of the mystic shadows that have come to dwell in this land. I do not know what has brought them here or what it is they seek. I've much to learn of them yet.' Ciara stood still for a moment and smiling with a slight tilt of her head she quietly said "You owe no debt to me I was merely in the right place at the right time. Had Reyes not warned me of the presence of danger I might not have gotten to you in time."

From outside she could hear Reyes calling to her. Moving to her window she pulled the curtain back and could see him perched near by. The moon was full and the forest filled with eerie shadows that were not normal to Chanclera. Silently she willed Reyes to keep close watch through out the night.

When Ciara finally moved away from the window she again looked at Arjak noticing that his travels seemed to have left him tired and possibly even hungry. Moving across the room she placed on a plate some cheese and bread and from her kettle she ladled out a portion of stew that had been cooking over the fire before she had went on her search for the herbs that she needed.

Turning to Arjak she spoke again. "A fine sized man such as yourself must be hungry." Setting the food down in front of him she simply said " Please eat. Tonight it would probably be safer for you to stay here than to go back out into the forest. You may sleep here, my bed is comfortable." Although Arjak protested she would not hear of it and quickly dismissing his concerns. Looking directly into the golden pools of his eyes she commented "I myself will sleep by the warmth of the fire."

When Ciara was done speaking she placed a thick blanket over the soft rug by the fire and satisfied that it would be comfortable enough to sleep on she tossed a pillow on top of it. Adding another lighter blanket to cover herself with during the night she poured herself a bowl of stew and sitting down she began eating quietly.

Cheshire
12-22-2009, 02:13 AM
Laya had noticed the figure following her since she left the pub, she was a mercenary... it was sort of in her job description to know when she was being shadowed. She continued walking, waiting, she had got a glance or two at the woman following her, as she turned to look at stalls, and various other attempts to blend in.

She wasn't bad looking, though in Laya's experience, one usually didn't generally shadow someone... especially one who seemed to have at least a little grasp on how it's done, in order to ask someone on a date or something. Besides, one also didn't often ask one on a date before seeing their face, and her hood had been on since she came into town. She laughed a little to herself. No, of course not, like usual, someone was either following her to kill her, capture her, or because she looked suspicious.

After a while she noticed the woman distracted and fled behind some stalls, stealthing from hiding place to hiding place, until she could reach a more advantageous position. She did have a job to do, so she hoped their conversation would be brief, but she couldn't exactly do it with this person following her, and for all she knew they were sent after her. She would need to get this woman off her tail here and now, before she could go any further with her job.

A sharp metal object poked against Kilyna's back, as a surprisingly feminine voice whispered quietly in her ear. "I am no one of interest, if you're smart, you'll take your pretty little butt, and find someone else to follow, got it?" She paused for a moment before added, "Oh, and I'm sorry if you wished to confess your eternal love to me, or something like that, I'm busy, perhaps you can give it another try when I'm in town next?"

Lacey
12-23-2009, 05:04 PM
Kilyna wanted to swear multiple times, turn around despite the sword on her back, and bunch the she-devil in the face. Yet that wouldn’t be dignified enough for the pirate image she’d worked to build so she restrained herself. Barely. Instead she laughed, letting the energy building up out through it. There was hardly anything else to do to get the woman’s attention—now that she new the one she’d been tailing was a woman.

“I’m afraid, dear girl, that I do not eternally love you. I’m sorry if that shatters your ego, which seems to be a bit inflated, but it’s true. I am flattered, though, that you believe my butt is pretty. I had been worrying about that.” She smiled, looking up without turning her head. Nesera had to be done with his rat soon, and he would be able to help her because no one really expected a bird to try to kill them these days. No one looked up anymore.

“I should tell you, telling me you are no one of interest just peaks my interest. Anyone I would follow would just seem rather dim compared to you now so I regret to say that I cannot find someone else to follow.” Hurry up Nesera, you overgrown parrot, Kilyna willed the bird, wherever it was, trying to find new ways to stall whoever she’d been following. “Besides, I’ve never actually been called smart. Cunning, yes. Smart, never. Take this situation for example. If I’d been smart, I wouldn’t have followed you in the first place, never getting into this situation.”

A shadow passed over her and the pirate captain relaxed, waited until it had passed over her again, then turned towards her to signal with two of her fingers. “Now, I must also warn you that if you hurt me, a very angry bird—that moves faster than anything alive when it wants to, I might add—will be streaking towards your head and probably taking it off.”

StormWolf
12-23-2009, 05:40 PM
The large Norgard took whatever chances he coult to steal glances at this Ciara, or Raven, woman. She was one of the most exotic and stunning women Arjak had ever seen.

"The pleasure is mine, Ciara. The Allfather has granted me much luck to have my path cross with one as beautiful as yourself." he bowed his head graciously as he took the cup of hot tea, taking occasional sips, welcoming the warmth of the liquid. Whenever their eyes met, Arjak locked his on hers for a moment before diverting them, pretending to look for more of the strange shadow creatures outside.

"A fine sized man such as yourself must be hungry." she said, Arjak just smiled and nodded. Fine sized, am I? he mused jokingly to himself, a deep chuckle sounding in his chest as he took another sip from his teacup.

" Please eat. Tonight it would probably be safer for you to stay here than to go back out into the forest. You may sleep here, my bed is comfortable."

Arjak's tea caught in his throat and caused him to choke, nearly firing jets of the hot liquid out of his nostrils. He didn't really know how to respond to that in a witty manner.

"M'lady! I... That.... You.... This is highly irragular... I will gladly sleep on the floor or on the porch, but if you insist..." when Arjak got her answer to the conundrum, he couldn't decide if he was relieved or disappointed, but he was leaning more towards the latter.

"Oh no, madame. This is your house, I would not be able to sleep soundly knowing I kicked you out of your bed. I am quite used to hard beds, seeing as how mine would freeze occasionally in winter. Please..." No matter how Arjak tried, the woman would not budge. She was as stubborn as any Norgard woman, even more stubborn than Marriane, his youngest sister. That was a statement. With a sigh, he shrugged those large shoulders of his and started feasting on the bread and cheese.

Heirosyth
12-28-2009, 12:03 AM
Ivalor- Port of Hope

“Symon Novikov my good Master Shylock,-“the pale in skin and haired lad greeted in return with the upmost polite tone. “-Indeed I had been hoping someone or a place might be carrying a bottle of Dhawal- white herbs very difficult to find even more difficult to grow needing exact conditions, a bottle of peppermint leafs a more common rather widespread yet hybrid type of mint, dried slabs of zahira a fish lesser known about lesser cared about by most merchants yet desired and inquired by myself and turned away by many who did not have such a thing. No harm in inquiring here I suppose?"

A boy. A very strange boy, but a boy nonetheless. Dravon cordially shook his white gloved hand and marvelled at his manner of speaking; it became quite clear why the merchant had been unable to discern the lad's desires or needs--this was not a typical customer, indeed.

The successful merchant, however, was the one most capable of adapting to the customers special quirks and needs, able to meet those needs in one form or another. Dravon didn't get this far without being able to handle the odd purchaser now and then, and the rarity of goods this peculiar young fellow was requesting put the ball in the Merchant Lord's side of the court.

"Young master, do not be so quick to doubt the depth of our merchandise!" Dravon replied with a broad wolfish smile and a spark of matching interest in his eye. Without letting go, he turned the boy around with hardly any effort (glaring at the idiot behind the stand over the shoulders of the lad as he did so), and placing a warm hand upon his back, led him through the marketplace to his dealers. The shouts and brazen calls of the other merchants who chucked and hurled names at Master Shylock as he led his charge through the bustling market went largely unacknowledged as the Merchant Lord smoothly and professionally ushered young Symon from stall to stall, introducing him to the merchants in turn who would be able to offer him the goods he called for while keeping a baleful eye upon them with the unspoken warning that they were to treat this particular customer with extra special care and hurry while he was in the Master's presence--after all, if any one of them made Master Shylock look bad in front of his customers, there would most assuredly be hell to pay later, before the sun entirely retreated in fear below the horizon.

"My good friend Rosslin will help you with the bottle of Dhawal, though I assure you, it is not part of his common stock, being somewhat difficult to get past border patrols and being hardly native to any land near this one. I trust the price will be to your liking--20 sovereigns for this bottle. Particularly expensive, being that the herbs, as you say are so difficult to procure, and so rare indeed--getting them here involves a number of expensive measures, but you sound like an educated lad, quite understanding of the painstaking effort required to acquire such herbs," Draven said with a gesturing wave of his hand, beckoning Rosslin to bring forth the rare stock from "the back" of his tent, where it remained in a trunk under lock, key, and cover.

"The mint you mentioned is much easier, and therefore, I can give you more at much less cost--shall we say 20 silvers for a bottle? Rosslin, does that sound like a fair price to you?" Dravon winked so subtlely at the merchant that no one else would've seen anything but a slight twitch in his eyes even if they were looking.

But Rosslin knew too well what that meant, "No, sir; that sounds like a ridiculously low price, undercutting the next lowest price by half and not even covering the costs of procuring the herb, Master Shylock. We won't be making a bit of profit off this sale, I assure you."

"Really?!" Dravon replied in an awestruck, surprised and baffled tone that would've made even the best bards in the land applaud his acting style. "Well, I daresay that Symon here is a first-time customer in these parts to my reckoning, and it's his lucky day. Symon, you heard the merchant here; you won't find a better price in all of Ivalor, or any market within two-thousand leagues of here!"

"How about some dried slabs of Zahira, Ross?" he inquired in an equally excited tone, raising a finger as if he had just remembered the pale-haired youth's request.

"No, sir, not here..."

"What?!" Dravon replied in disbelief.

"But, you can find some just across the way there in Denise's Fish Market Shop."

"Fan-tastic, Ross!" Dravon raised his finger again, as if cuing an orchestra to play upon their instruments as one. It was no secret between them that Denise worked for Dravon also. After Rosslin packaged the two bottles expertly and passed them to the boy, he took his money and then pointed to the Fish Market Shop helpfully.

Taking Symon over there, helped him procure some Zahira strips from the equally helpful Denise who eyed her Merchant Lord warily for a very affordable five silvers per slab; a price equally below "any other to be found in the whole marketplace."

"One other thing if I may be so permitted to ask…” Symon started again.

"Of course, my lad! Anything at all," Dravon enthusiastically replied.

“…Nay a thought in my mind tells me otherwise that I am in the wrong place for such a thing, a book that’s importance ranges like a single long thread from the moon to our very location- the Tomé del Resucitado-“

Dravon's ringleader grin turned to a sober frown.

“-Or rather the Tome of the Risen. If there is nothing to know there is nothing to know and I shall bid you a kind farewell and be on my way.”

"Mm," Dravon replied wordlessly in thought, taking his hand from the boy's shoulders and stroking his chin in thought as he tilted his head downwards and cast his eyes darkly to the ground.

"That could prove a little more difficult..."

The boy looked as though he was ready to accept that as an answer, but before he could turn away, Dravon reached out quickly and took him by his closest shoulder and tapped it gently.

"... as I said, it could prove a little more difficult..." he remarked, his eyes rising to meet those of the lad Symon once more, before that tell-tale grin spread across his lips, "but not impossible. Come, come, let me take you to where I can better explain."

Dravon drew the boy windingly back through the marketplace as the shadows grew longer over the stalls and stands, marking the descending passage of the great fiery orb of the sun in the sky towards her final destination below the horizon. Taking him to his main tent, he caught his other two merchants, Figoro and Melius before they had left, much to their dismay.

"Figoro! Melius! Just the merchants I wanted to see!" He welcomed them with open arms and hugged each of them, to which they haltingly returned the separate embraces and watched their Merchant Lord with some sense of hesitation and wariness, for Dravon was not prone to public affection with anyone unless it was in his own best interest. As it turned out, it doubtlessly was.

"These two gentlemen, good merchants of mine, are heading to the Port of Tamur," Dravon explained, turning to the pale-haired Symon. "From thence where they will be departing to go to..." Draven theatrically paused, extending his hand in beckoning fashion towards the both of them for an answer.

"... Esgares," they both answered awkwardly after a moment, picking up on the gesture.

"Esgares! The Empire!" Dravon turned back to Symon. "As it turns out, my lad, I do in fact have just a bit of information which might help you to acquire this particular tome, but it will involve your word, my dear young man, to accompany these gentlemen to Esgares."

"You see, in my youth, I knew book collector, by the name of Vanthirimon--very eccentric fellow--who used to have an obssession with rare and unique tomes of all sorts. If he didn't have it, he had to have it, and it was through him that I acquired some of my most valuable contacts, who... get me things that no one else can find. However, that old codger..." Dravon laughed a practiced and cagey laugh, "oh, he acquired some things that even I could not."

Dravon turned to look Symon directly in the eyes, "My deal is this: You go with these two gentle merchants of mine to Tamur, and thence to Esgares, and they--" and now the Merchant Lord shot a glance to the two merchants standing there, before returning it to young Symon, "they will tell you where the man is, for I know he resides now within the Empire. They will each have a particular piece of information in exchange for Master Vanthirimon which will help him to consider loosening his hold on this tome which you desire--for the right price. Without this information, he would be loathe to part with it at all."

"If it's a deal, then I require only one thing from you: Keep these merchants of mine alive, and see to it that no one "muscles" them out of Esgares, no matter who they are, save myself obviously. Only a Necromancer would be interested in the tome you seek, and I have a lasting respect for the powers of dark magic, and Esgares has kept me and my cartel out of the Empire for a very... long... time. I want to change that; permanently."

"Do we have an accord, young sir? If so, I'll need a moment alone with these two gentlemen to explain a few things to them and then you can be on your way tonight, if necessary. In the meantime, you may wait outside the tent with my goblin servent, Dreeg."

Dreeg happened to be standing there outside the tent, picking his nose again, staring blankly at Symon. And then he smiled stupidly and sneezed.

Volkov
12-28-2009, 11:42 AM
Ivalor- Port of Hope

For a moment Symon’s eyebrow twitched, perhaps in surprise. An only slight change from his usual bluntly uninterested expression. For the most part seemed in agreement the entire time as Dravon smoothly ushered him along to each of the merchants he was introduced to. Playing the cards of Listening and action by paying the good merchants the exact amount specified without hesitation when they had the goods ready from a rather large pouch on the back pocket of one of his many belts.

Though overall it was easy to see he wasn’t interested in any of the goods he was purchasing and carting with him, nor the acting even made a dent in him. regardless of price by the expression that read these items might just be stepping stones, or they were requested by someone he was acquainted with, an errand boy’s job, all Symon wanted to do was step forwards to what interested him the most. though the saying goes business before pleasure. And his pleasure lied in asking about the Tome of the Risen.
His eyes flicking lazily to Dravon as his ringleader grin dissolved into the sober frown. Symon half listening….or seeming to focus on points of interest that he must move towards to get closer to what was nagging on him below the surface.

"... as I said, it could prove a little more difficult..." he remarked, his eyes rising to meet those of the lad Symon once more, before that tell-tale grin spread across his lips, "but not impossible. Come, come, let me take you to where I can better explain."

Symon’s silence remained golden from the moment he halted his speaking in regards to the tome. but went along with Dravon but making a sharp mental note of how the light of day was decreasing by the elongated shadows ranging over the markets. Still the pale haired lad observed as Dravon greeted and embraced the two merchants.

"These two gentlemen, good merchants of mine, are heading to the Port of Tamur,"

This caused a slight eye bat and a twitch at the corner of his mouth at the mention of Tamur. Faint memories arose of his caretaker mentioning he was supposed to come straight back. Though he soon put those thoughts away, as much as he did with life he had little care of anything but the way to keep things always going forwards without stop or retreat as far as his subconscious was concerned

Although for Symon his attention span was a giant ball of waning, he seemed to be pulling extra effort he never seemed to try before squinting his rather pickled green eyes to concentrate and get what exactly Dravon was saying to stick into his brain like the mold on the foundation of an old house. Symon’s minute long silence, observation and information absorbance broke the moment Dravon finished speaking. Again without mumble or stutter lightning jumped one next to the other as if they were simply blocks on a road to be pushed over noting objective And maybe a hint of confidence to the youth's voice with the face above his lips staying to its bored predecessor-expression under shagged bangs of pale hair.

“Why that sounds absolutely magnificent. The obsessed and eccentric tend to be the most paranoid and yet the most useful I would have to say, Indeed I accept this deal to my point of understanding to accompany and guard them from all manner of utterly violent snakes and goats and cows in human disguise on their wondrous adventures from here to beyond so that they may do their work in peace and safety while still retaining their lives…….if so again I shall do this, we have an accord Master Shylock. For some things need to change for the better and good of whatever needs better and good. And if this is a fairy march I do hope your bones rest comfortably….The sooner the better perhalps-“

For one such as knowledgeable as Master Dravon Shylock. In his line of work he must have heard these phrases.
-Fairy March- being the polite way to say -I hope I am not being lead astray- yet;
-Hope your bones rest comfortably- is a darker notion used by the oldest cogger’s of Necromancers from long years past, not quite the popular phrases of today. it usually was taken two ways in olden days based on limited information and perhaps conversational skills;
-I hope to rip your bones out if you lie.-
-I hope to rip the bones out of your enemies and friends for your truth.-

For certain Symon was taking a lot of risk on foreign ground, yet it simply might come off as pitiful confusion. Maybe reckless arrogance. All that could be certain is that he was a curiosity. Of danger, or stupidity? Perhaps it was too early to tell.

“- Ah! What a fascinating existence!”

Symon’s attention soon turned like a smooth carriage ride to look upon the sneezing Dreeg outside the tent and made his way to stand outside of the tent. From his tone he seemed impressed but. His face stayed ever the same to a lax.

Kris
12-29-2009, 11:28 PM
Ivalor-Capital Camelot, outskirts

Helena opened the wooden door that led into her home, an humble house with one floor and four small rooms. Since it was already late, the living room was somewhat gloomy, yet it wasn't completely dark for it was dimly lit by the light of the flame that burnt at the fireplace which danced with rage, creating weak shadows within the room that made the furnitures to look like they were moving slightly.

"Mother, I've returned”.

A chair was found beside the fire upon which a woman was sitting idly and Helena felt that the fire was the sole thing that seemed to be alive in the room and the earlier comment was more for Helena to hear then for anyone else, as if remind her that someone was sharing the house with her.

Helena removed her armor and approached the lady, noticing a tray full of food beside her, “Mother, you didn't touch a thing, did you? You know you must eat....”, The woman's gaze was fixed at something before her and Helena bit her lips, thinking to herself that the maid must have left the house early again, Father Boglan's order no doubt.

How long was the woman in this state? Helena herself wasn't even sure if her mother was ever right in the head to begin with. Helena picked up the tray while grabbing a chair and sitting near the woman. She moved closer in order to feed her, all the while thinking to herself of that day...

Helena's mother, Sophia, was the child of an immigrant family that wished to get within the holy sanctuary and the ways of the new faith and for that they needed to begin from the bottom, as low rankers and workers. The people at the capital never liked outsiders, but the family was shunned mostly because of the crimson fiery hair of Sophia which to them was an some omen of wickedness.

However, it didn't bothered lord Hagia Leviticus from marrying her, but by doing so he was forced from his status, position and land, allowing his younger brother to take over. The couple lived poorly but they were happy and that was most important... At least in the beginning that is...

Days of war forced the men to leave their homes and battle. Helena was fifteen when the news of her father reached them. Her mother took it the worst...

Helena wiped the woman's face as she put aside the tray and the leftovers, while slowly lowering herself to kneel down before the woman as she started to pull aside strips of red hair away from her mother's face, trying to fix, even by little, her appearance.

Her mother was to be removed from the capital as the rule suggest, for no illnesses or maims were allowed in the capital, but the high priest made sure that they will not only have a home, but also personal helpers to aid her mother while Helena was away on her mission... But now...

"Curse it all!”, Helena knocked away the tray as she got up, metal was ringing around her, blazed by the fire that roared with her own sudden outburst. Her mother was still gazing at something ahead of her, her face calm and beautiful and frozen. Tears appeared in Helena's eyes, as the cold truth hit her. When she is gone, no one would be there to protect her mother.

Sounds were coming from the door's direction and Helena swiftly rubbed her eyes and stormed to get her spear as she reached for the entrance. Knocks soon followed, “Who is it?”, asked Helena.

Anne Bonny
12-30-2009, 06:56 AM
Wren was jolted from her light sleep with a start. She rubbed her eyes in confusion, but after blinking several times it became apparent that she was still in her modest home. And still seated at her little table at that. Running a hand through her blond hair, Wren slowly shook her head. She should really be more careful.

The cup of tea that was placed in front of her had gone cold, even though Wren was certain she coundn't have been asleep for very long. She had been trying to relax; she hadn't even changed her clothes from the day. But apparently the healing had taken more energy from her than she had realized.

Wren rose, feeling her muscles untie themselves as she moved, and crossed the room to a small window. Emerald eyes peered out into the starry sky as the healer fidgeted with her hands behind her back. It wasn't her unexpected nap that bothered her so. It was that dream again.

In the waking hours, the details faded into a fog. But each morning, or evening in this case, Wren was haunted by visions of a familiar face, but one she couldn't quite place in her history. And a blazing fire, comforting and hopeful...

She shook her head in frustration. Trying to sort out the details hadn't worked the past three days, and it wouldn't tonight, that much was certain. Wren moved back to the table to retrieve her tea with a sigh.

Father Augustine had spoken of great things in her future, but now that she was a little rested and her head was fairly clear, Wren didn't see how any of those things could be possible. A woman as one of the numbered? And one that had never been formally trained at that? The very idea was absurd. It would be wonderful, but absurd. As it was, Wren was lucky to get the little work she did.

Mysteria
01-03-2010, 07:49 PM
Chanclera- City of Lothian


"M'lady! I... That.... You.... This is highly irragular... I will gladly sleep on the floor or on the porch, but if you insist..."


Ciara chuckled inwardly to herself as the man spit and sputtered making a complete fool of himself although her outside appearance would have never given her away as she stood there one eyebrow cocked slightly. Albeit that the man was handsome it would take much more than that quality alone for any man to be able to share her bed. She hoped that this man in front of her was not nearly as conceited as he was currently appearing to be for if he was then surely she would not be able to wait for the morning to arrive so that he might make his departure in the safety of daylight.

After having explained that she would be taking rest on the floor and he would be sleeping on the bed his protests began to fill her ears to no avail. He was a guest in her home and she would not hear of a guest sleeping on the floor no matter how foolishly they were to try to argue with her. He finally relinquished himself to the fact that she would not accept no as an answer at which point she took her seat and began to eat her own meal.

Ciara's eyes drifted towards the howling winds outside and past the window towards the still silent voice that was calling to her. She could sense that Reyes was a bit edgy and she tried to mentally calm him as she bid him to take shelter from the winds in the safety of her front porch. When she knew he had settled she finished her meal. When Arjak had his fill of food and she was certain that he was no longer hungry she cleared the table and spoke again.

"It has grown late and the dawn will arrive quickly. You should take rest now." Ciara said as she blew out the candles leaving only the remaining glow of the fire to illuminate the room. Turning to Arjak she smiled slightly. "Sleep well Arjak. May the night grant you with a peaceful sleep."

Ciara turned from Arjak and removing the shawl that she had been wearing to keep her warm she slipped quietly under the blanket by the fire place where she lay awake for some time gazing into the fire and listening to the sound of Arjak's breathing until she knew he had finally found sleep. Closing her eyes she then too fell into a peaceful slumber.

Cheshire
01-04-2010, 03:20 PM
Laya laughed, "An angry bird, ya say?" she laughed again after this, and mused on it for a moment, before removing the dagger and roughly shoving the woman to the ground. The metallic sound of a dagger returning to it's sheath was heard as such was done. She then took a quick step back, giving her enough room to react, should she have misjudged the woman's intent.

"Personally, I get along with birds and fish, now if you'd said an angry bear, we might have problems. But either way, I have no intention of harming you, I just needed to figure out if you were tailing me for some nefarious purpose, or just for your own amusement, naive sense of adventure or perhaps some foolish curiosity." Laya spoke with a tone of amusement herself, her thick accent making it clear she was a native of these land. Though her hood covered her face, and her outfit covered much of her body, what could be seen of her skin's light tan would also indicate a local.

Her mouth, shadowed but visible under her hood, curled into a grin, "Since you didn't just have your angry bird kill me while we were talking... and a angry bird is a rather amateur bluff, I imagine it is one of those last few, but perhaps you might simply tell me what it is you are following me for, and I can tell you who, exactly, you SHOULD be annoying, as it's likely not me."

((OOC EDIT: Gah, I need to pick a tense and stick with it XD Changed to past tense XD))

Anne Bonny
01-05-2010, 06:32 AM
Ivalor

A knock at the door, even though it was by a gentle hand, was enough to make Wren jump in surprise. Her tea sloshed in her cup, a bit trickling over the edge and onto her fingers. But the healer hardly noticed. There was only one reason for someone to be calling in the middle of the night.

She moved towards the door, quickly wiping her hands on her skirt before reaching for the handle. In the pale moonlight stood Father Augustine, a subtle smile on his wrinkled face. "Get your cloak, Lady Avari," he said simply. "Your services are needed."

-------

The two healers moved silently through the night, out of the capital and into the rural parts of Ivalor. A full moon lit the path as they walked with hurried steps, Father Augustine silent and mysterious, Wren wondering where it was exactly that he lead.

They drew to a halt at the steps of an older home. Here, Augustine paused and turned towards his student. "Just follow my lead," he said. Then, without another word in explanation, he hurried up the steps and rapped at the door. Little Wren hovered in his shadow anxiously, wringing her hands behind her back.

"Who is it?" a woman's voice demanded from inside.

Father Augustine flashed a smile at Wren before answering. "Someone to call on the Lady Sophia Leviticus."

Silence for a moment, then footsteps on wooden floors and the turning of a lock. When the door opened it revealed a woman, strong and stunning, with imposing posture and searching eyes. "And who are you?"

Augustine lowered his old bones into a somewhat graceful bow, and Wren followed with a quick courtesy as he introduced them both. "You must be Helena. May we come in?"

After another once over with the critical eye, the woman stepped aside and allowed the two healers to enter. Wren's eyes swept the modest space. The small room seemed to fill up with the presence of a few more bodies, but it still had a cozy, loving feel to it. And sitting in a chair by the fire sat an elderly woman that Wren instantly guessed was the one she was meant to see.

Without a word, the girl crossed the room and lowered herself in front of the old woman. Sophia's eyes were unfocused, but not dead. Her body was frail, but not failing. She was alive physically, but even the ever-hopeful healer sensed that the old woman's spark couldn't be rekindled. But that didn't mean she couldn't be comfortable.

One hand rose to rest on Sophia's shoulder and Wren closed her eyes in concentration. She could feel several things through her touch with the old woman. Cold skin, but a full stomach, frail bones, and an aching back. Well, she could help with a few things anyway.

"Her back hurts, maybe from sitting in this chair for some time," Wren said aloud, glancing up at Helena. The younger woman could only be Sophia's daughter, she decided. They both had that fiery hair. "And she's a bit cold. Is there a thicker blanket?"

Father Augustine nodded in approval and turned back to Helena before the woman could answer. "Wren is here to take care of your mother while you are away," he said.

Wren blinked in surprise. She was? Augustine and his secrets! But with another glance at the elderly woman before her, Wren's heart melted. Here on the outskirts of town, in this tiny home, with only her daughter to care for her, and she had to leave... who else would watch over Sophia?

"Yes," Wren said with a nod. "I am."

Lacey
01-08-2010, 09:20 PM
Kilyna tried to land in a roll, but failed quite miserably but she jumped up easily, though nearly falling again because she didn’t have the right balance. After standing without feeling like she was going to fall down, she stood up straight, looking her in the eye. It really isn’t fair, pretending you’re a man. It makes people think you’re less intelligent than you really are…

She impatiently listed while the person spoke, trying not to laugh at the words spewing from her mouth in that accent of hers. This girl seemed to think that she was a lunatic at best.

When the woman finished, Kilyna laughed shortly, making it as insulting as possible.

“First of all, missy, that was no bluff. I may be a liar, but I am no amateur at doing so.” She held up one hand, making a motion with two of her fingers and whistling loudly. A screech answered her and Kilyna smirked as Nesera dove directly behind her, a slight brush of feathers making and she knew from experience that the bird would be just a blur until he pulled up only inches from the ground just to rise into the hot air on the thermals that he instinctively found. She didn’t lower her arm.

“Second, my purpose is my own. The thing is, you have something to do with it.” Kilyna’s eyes flashed dangerously and she took a step forward. “You know about them don’t you, those shadows?” There was an ice cold, steel glint in her voice and a fire blazing in her dark eyes. “You better hurry before my arm gets tired. If I put my arm down before I tell Nesera to relax, he’ll take you head off before you can say, ‘pretty birdy.’”

Kris
01-10-2010, 02:21 AM
Ivalor-Capital Camelot, outskirts

If it was any other time, Helena would have must likely snapped at the thoughts of strangers coming insider her house, deciding for her what was best for her mother and ordering her around.

But this offer didn't sound that bad... Then again... It was too good to be true.

Helena decided to consider her words, wearing a calm cold expression which was rare sight for the new hot headed personalty she adopted to herself. She headed for the near small room, which was close by, considering of course that the whole apartment was rather humble in sizes. She returned soon after holding a blanket in her right hand. She gave a deep glance at Wren, as if trying to X-ray her, before she handed it to her, not bothering to give her a second look as she turned for her next prey, "Should I presume that my mother's new attendant's uniforms are cloaks now?”, she asked, the cynic tune clearly visible.

Father Augustine looked somewhat lost as he answered her direct question. He heard about her nature, he just never realized how bad it was, “Lady Helena, we...-”

"Forgive me, father for what I'm about to say, but I do not recall making a numbered as one of my dear close companions, and therefore addressing me in my first name would be a very rude act, won't you agree?”

It was if only just now did Augustine realized how close he was to the fireplace, as he felt strange warmth in his back, but he thought to himself that this heat was nothing compare to the sensation of rage that reflected in the young paladin's eyes. He realized that by being closed to her, he sealed his fate in some kind of trail where he would be found guilty. What scared him most was the fact that he realized that no matter what he would say to her, nothing would make her feel better or even at ease. She had every right to be angry. He didn't do anything in the past to prevent it, her fury was justified. He smirked to himself as he lowered his head, lines of weak wrinkles curved upon his face from the fire's light, “Yes, you are right, please forgive me, Lady Leviticus”.

He waited some time before he allowed himself to rise up his head again and look at her. Something about her was a bit more calm, but it was still out of reach. She was willing to hear, at least, and that all he needed... for now...

"You realized that I'm one of the choir, or maybe you just sensed that by the way that we reached you that I must be from the clan”, he said with a weak smile, trying his best to break the ice, “You are very sharp”.

"It's true that I do not know you, but both the fact that you came here at night and tried your best to hide the fact that you are present in this house”, said Helena indicating at the dark cloak of Wren who took it down and left it beside the chair near that of her mother's, “And the fact that you are aware of my mission, which was top secret”.

Again Augustine felt that fire's heat at his back, while she gave him another deep gaze, feeling as if he was caged from every corner of the room like a wild beast, unable to escape. Even Wren, that was some inches away from them both, notice the change in present of her teacher, and realized he was a bit uncertain.

"What do you want?”, Helena was the first to break the silence.

"W- what?!”, uttered Augustine in half a tune, as if awakening from some day-dream.

Helena didn't notice it, or rather choose not to as she went straight to the point, “No one in their right mind will go against the three elder priests and their aims to protect the old ways when the High Priest is gone. Wanting to protect my mother? To take care of the holy city's trash. Would you, as a numbered even consider this as an option, when the whole deal is a taboo?”, Helena turned and looked at Wren, “Does she know?!”

Noticing that now she was the subject of the talk, Wren turned to look at Augustine who avoided her and instead gazed directly at Helena.

Helena closed her eyes as a bitter smile appeared upon her face, “I take it as a 'no' then”

"You don't understand-!”

"Oh, yes I do”, said Helena bursting into his words, “Helping my sinful mother, or even myself, the demon of the holy city isn't a pure act of charity...”, Helena looked at her mother before looking back at Augustine, “What do you want from me?”

***

Chanclera- City of Lothian

peaceful slumber...

the warmth and the unusual place she choose as her bed didn't bothered her to fall asleep right away... or even dream for that matter...

"Child...”

At first it sounded like a mere whisper, something like a swift breeze. She tucked in her blanket, taking an embryo form, trying to resist the sudden cold and wind.

"Child...”

But that voice would not let go... as it repeated, louder this time...

Feeling she could no longer face the annoying sensation, she forced herself to get up and close the windows, but then, to her horror, did Ciara realized that they were all sealed shut. Trying to find the source of the sudden cold she ended up looking below her, at her shadow that was created by the fire behind her and noticed that it slowly increased in size, until it split from her.

Ciara realized that she was not alone...

She turned backward slowly, her body shivering from uncertainty. The flames danced wild, bewitched or so and Ciara took some steps backwards before her leg hit something and she stumbled and hit the floor. She then looked up and noticed that something was fighting to get out of the fire.

"You... Children of nature... You who can hear the calls of the wild and spirits...”, the voice that burst from the flamed figure was both heavy and feminine, each word was echoed at least three times.

Ciara, despite the strange vision couldn't help but think who was that figure was talking about... Children? There was only one of her present now...

"...A mission...”, Ciara returned from her thoughts to pay attention to the words of the fiery figure, “All in some mission, you must find that unending fire of hope... Help the world against those who wish to destroy it...”

more then scared, Ciara was actually interested in the words of the flamed figure before her, but the more she tried to listen the more did his lines became unclear and Ciara couldn't have figured most of the speech, "What... I don't?-”

"...No time... a*****.... **** *** ****** ***”

"What?! I don't understand anything!!!”, Ciara yelled, thinking that her voice would reach the other side better that way.

There was yet another great breeze and the flames were back in their place, calm and settled. Cold sweat went down from Ciara's nape to her back spine as she tried to digest what she has just seen. Beside her she noticed Arjak, a worried look on his face.

"Are you well?”, he asked, “You shouted at your sleep”

Ciara looked from the fire to Arjak, “Did I dream....?”

Arjak seemed to be confused more then her, “Yes you did, I had to wake you up...”

"Ascara...”

"Huh?”, said Arjak.

"I... I think I was just told to head for Ascara....”

Heirosyth
01-10-2010, 11:27 PM
Ivalor - Port of Hope --> Camelot

Symon begins his journey with the caravan on merchants early the next morning before daybreak, beginning his duty of escorting the merchants Figoro and Melius to the Port of Tamur in Ascara. Dravon has informed them that without incident, the journey should take between 5-7 days; or "about a week". The Merchant Lord of the Scales remains behind with plans of his own to get in on matters that have been occurring elsewhere in Ivalor.

"Master Shylock, I bring word," a cloaked messenger girl announced in a calm, professional tone as she entered his tent.

The black and silver haired man looked up from his documents and transactions at his desk by the oil lamp and beckoned her forward.

"What news do you bring?" he said with an interested smile, sitting up and back upon his chair.

"The valuable kind. Worth some gold, sir, if you please."

"How many sovereigns do you desire, my dear?"

"I should like to have every king in the world in my pocket, as you do, Master Shylock, but I shall settle for two dozen for now."

The worldly merchants lips parted in a hearty laugh, showing off his glimmering white teeth as he threw his head back in pleasure at her price.

"Ten."

"Then I take my information elsewhere, Master Shylock," she replied quietly, but curtly, holding her ground. Her heart felt like it was secretly beating a hundred times a second.

"Twelve, then, girl. But know that I could easily have you out on the streets."

"I am on the streets already, sir, and I do not think I would fetch you half so much as this information."

Dravon Shylock laughed again. The girl had guts and a sharp wit to boot. He admired her steadfastness.

"Sixteen. That's my final offer. Take it or go."

The girl waited, eyeing the Merchant Lord carefully, trying to read his eyes, but their green shadowy orbs revealed no hint of his true position to her. She expected as much, but she felt it was worth a shot.

"I'll take it."

Dravon nodded once with a reasoning frown, conveying his admiration for her bargaining skills, and counted out the coins, putting them neatly into a nicely concealable pouch for her to hide in her bosom, as many girls often do.

Sliding it forward, he waited for her to approach, which she did. When she reached for the bag, he grabbed her wrist suddenly and squeezed, gazing coldly into her eyes with that same predatory smile. The entire move took her by surprise and left her in shock. She reflexively yanked back, but to no avail; she was caught in the trap.

"Information, young lady," he said through his smiling teeth.

Her wide eyes stared back at him like a deer caught in the hunter's snare, but she relinquished what she had.

"My lord, as have done what I can to procure the information you have wanted from those who serve the high priests..."

Dravon tugged her arm harshly and squeezed harder, eliciting a cry of pain from her lips that was just as quickly silenced.

"... a-a-and one of t-t-the high priests... themselves..." She flushed with shame and embarrassment, "I have uncovered details of the conspiracy and goings on at the palace: of the sickness of the high priestess; of Father Boglin; of Helena Leviticus; of High Priest Tik-va; and others!"

"Tell me everything you plied from the loose lips of these men who foolishly trumpet their proud secrets to young girls in their beds..."

The girl quickly nodded and gave Dravon Shylock the information he desired. When she finished, he released her, and she quickly took the opportunity to snatch the pouch of coins and leave as soon as possible.

Master Shylock sat back, contemplating what she had said and made a decision.

In the morning, on the day after Symon and his merchants left for Ascara, Dravon Shylock made for the Capitol City of Ivalor, Camelot, to ensure that the opportunity to take advantage of the brewing power vacuum there was not missed. On his way, he would need a man on the inside; one who could serve two purposes, if need be. A man by the name of Cronus Audata.

Stream
01-11-2010, 06:22 AM
Ivalor - Capital Camelot

A small amount of light penetrated through the translucent sheepskin awning that shaded Cronus. He had ridden by wagon to the capital city of Ivalor, Camelot, with the intent of spying for his clan. Through the small openings on each side of the wagon could be seen the majestic spires and beautiful architecture of the city of light. Anyone treading on these grounds could feel the immense holy aura emanating within its walls.

The wagon slowed a bit, almost to a complete halt, as it reached the checkpoint gate just before entering the city proper. In front of Cronus he could see large crowds of people diluted by a healthy portion of guards clad in chainmail and cloaked priests and healers walking in formation through the cobbled streets. Several cheaply made stalls displaying a wide assortment of products of equal value littered the central square, accompanied by the few entertainers within.

A sunburned face poked through the cheap cloth covering the side of the wagon, eyeing Cronus suspiciously. Outside he could hear what seemed like three other men harassing the poor trader that had offered him taxi here. With a slight smirk and a wave, the guard retreated back outside with a scolding expression. After several seconds of muffled argument, the wagon began to move forward slowly onto the cobblestone passageways of Camelot.

"Thank you for the service, kind sir. I could've paid nearly three times as much for a proper carriage, though without much more comfort. Regardless, you've earned your pay." the peculiar dressed assassin produced several small silvers from the pouch tied to his belt, thrusting them into the eager open palm of the trader. For a moment he tightly held onto his hand as if to rethink his payment, his eyes narrowing on a small child staring as Cronus, her eyes wide and glinting, a sense of fear washing over her.

"Spend it wisely. A fool and his money are soon parted." he said with a smile, sliding away one silver back into his palm as he walked away from the carriage, toward the child. The assassin loomed over her with a smirk on his face, his shadow completely overwhelming her small frame. The child seemed to be having trouble parting her lips to speak her message.

"I-I… Dravon sent me to t-tell… I mean give you this!" she said quickly, thrusting a small piece of parchment into Cronus's hands. With one fluid motion, his unoccupied hand wrapped around the collar of the child attempting to flee, flinging her back in front of Cronus, an audible yelp escaping her lips. The assassin's fingers slowly wrapped around the neck of the child, his thumb and forefinger massaging the curves of her esophagus, feeling it expand and shrink as her breaths drew deeper. Slight pinches to steal her breath were more than enough to show the child Cronus was not one to be played.

Cronus

I have gotten word that you would be entering the capital of Ivalor soon, and I find this the perfect opportunity to employ your… skills for a certain task I have planned. A handsome sum of sovereigns awaits you if you so choose to accept. You will know where to find me.

As usual, leave no tracks.

Dravon


"So… Shylock has need for my talents yet again…" as the words hissed from his lips, Cronus simultaneously crushed the letter into a ball and grabbed the young girl by her chin, forcing her to look up into his eyes.

"Take me to him. I'm sure a worthless street urchin like yourself would know just where you could sneak a few sovereigns from. I wouldn't put it past scheming filth like you regardless." he said, tossing the child onto the ground at his feet. Quickly she scrambled back up, walking quickly through the winding streets of Camelot, Cronus hot on her tail. No doubt she recognized the insignia etched into his brooch, symbolizing him as a trained assassin, his predatory powers renowned throughout the land.

After several minutes of being rushed through roads, alleys, through shops and an angry Cronus shouting threats of death and pain to the young girl had she been pulling him along, they finally reached the south entrance of the Ivalor capital. The finely dressed Dravon Shylock could be spotted by anyone inherently drawn to wealth and luxury, both of which emanated from the shrewd trader lord. His green eyes wandered to Cronus, a smile instantly produced from his lips.

When someone like Dravon Shylock requested your services, it meant two things; it was something damn important, and you were going to be very rich, very quickly. Though Cronus himself was a master of the blade and of his body, he had a deep respect for someone who could kill you twenty ways with just a snap of his fingers.

"Let's find a place a bit more comfortable than this. It's unlike you to discuss business without a glass of wine in your hand."

StormWolf
01-12-2010, 02:02 AM
Arjak watched Ciara tuck herself to sleep on the floorboards. It did not sit well with him to kick a person, a woman most of all, out of their bed. Still, she was more stubborn that any Norgard she-wolf and he got the sense that she could not be swayed, so he saved is breath.

"Sleep well Arjak. May the night grant you with a peaceful sleep." her voice swept over the Norgard's ears like the finest silk, even making his eyelids flutter with sudden fatigue. He had not realized how tired he really was until he finally got food in his belly and warmth in his bones.

"Sleep soundly and may the spirits of Nature protect you." Arjak said deeply before finishing his tea. Even after Ciara drifted to sleep, Arjak remained awake for a while, the voices of the wolves in the forest keeping him restless. He had to forcefully butt the voices out as he made his way to the humble bedchamber. Stripping down to his smallclothes, he took his seax from his belt and put the weapon under his pillow. He hated to be paranoid, but no matter how beautiful a rose was, it always had thorns. He hoped the blade was an unneccisary precaution, but it was always best to play it safe. Laying his muscular figure down on the mattres and pulling the covers over his body, Arjak quickly fell asleep.

In his dreams, he still walked among the world of the living, but behind the eyes of his brethren. He watched as his wolf brothers and sisters hunted a stag, watching the creature get carried to the ground by his jaws, feeling the coppery taste of warm blood fill his mouth. He experienced everything from their point of view. His mind jumped to another pack, a father wolf laying protectively with is mate around their newborn pups, growling every time any noise came too close to the mouth of the den. Arjak smiled in his sleep. This was why he chose wolves over any other creature to connect to. He respected their close-knit family values and their unbreakable bonds of love.

Suddenly, a scream shattered the tapestry of the dream, ripping Arjak's mind from its surreal trance and throwing him into the living. In a single motion, the Norgard noble flew from his bed, seax in hand. Powerful legs carried him with the swiftness of a wolf on the hunt. He almost seemed to ignore the space between the bedroom and the den. He saw Ciara in the throes of a terrible nightmare and went to his knees, trying to rouse her awake.

"Ciara! Ciara!!!" He nudged and pushed her, trying to get her to oper her eyes. "CIARA!!!" Then the woman's eyes shot open and Arjak remembered that he had lungs that needed filling. After a deep breath, he looked at her intently, worry occupying that hard face.

"Are you well?”, he asked, “You shouted at your sleep.”

Ciara looked from the fire to Arjak, whose eyes burned bright as the light of the fire reflected in those lupine lenses. “Did I dream....?”

Arjak seemed to be confused more then her, “Yes you did, I had to wake you up...”

"Ascara...”

"Huh?”, said Arjak.

"I... I think I was just told to head for Ascara....” A pensive look occupied Arjak's face for a time as he thought deeply.

"A Wolf Dream." He said as much to himself as he does to her. "On occasion, my dreams will bring me messages through the eyes and mind of the wolf. Stilll, mine have never been clear enough to decypher so soon after waking. Mayhap you have a greater intellect than I, and would not doubt it. Such happenings as this are rare in my experience, but not impossible." he snapped out of his thinking-out-loud and focused on Ciara.

"Should we leave immediately or do you wish to wait for sunrise?"

Kris
01-12-2010, 09:22 PM
Ivalor-Capital Camelot, outskirts

Everyone looked from one person to another, waiting to see who will be the first one to talk. Wren only wished that Augustine will speak already and break the deadly silence. Deep inside she knew that Helena wished for that even more then her.

"a demon”, he said at last, earning confuse stare from the paladin.

"What?!”

"No...”, he smirked, “I was thinking how was it rather ironic that the one treated as a demon would know the real one in the end”.

Helena considered his words but before she had any time to reply Augustine carried on, “We know that Bolgan is involved with whatever that happened to ruler Noa and the high priest”, Augustine then halted and added, “Well... If we truly knew we would have acted long ago. Some really hate him just for being above them, but aside from assumptions we got nothing on him. Most of us fear to get close to him, let alone spy on him. He got eyes everywhere you know”.

Helena lowered her head, giving a quick glance at her mother before looking back at the priest, “What do you want me to do? To start a revolt!? You want me to take the blame? To be the first one to fire the first shot? Trust me, for the high priest I would have killed the bastard long ago, but...”, Helena gave another look at her mother, “You know... Maybe I should just do what you all do... What could be wrong with just lowering your head and surrender? What's wrong with thinking that it's rain when in truth it's someone's spit?... After all, that way no one will get hurt. My mother no longer bear a soul within her as far as I concern, and yet just to let her die... I can't bring myself to do it...”

"He wants you out of the way... You are one of his final pebbles on the road. He had already summon a meeting with the twelve and as soon as I got the news I used everything that I could to learn about any sudden change that happened recently to get a better picture of the urgent gathering. Just so you know, even I, as a number, was never told of your mission...”

"You still hadn't answer my question”

Augustine nodded, “I fear of what will come next... Bolgan might be to something and I'm not sure if any of us will be included in his coming plans. It's not personal ill matters between you and him anymore. I fear for the fate of Ivalor”

"I am a soldier of the holy land. I do not bear faith in my heart as the other warriors, but I do heed orders. If you want me to rise a sword I will-”

"No, that would not be necessary”, said Augustine, “Not from you... anyway”

Helena's eyes widen with surprise, “What you say?”

Augustine looked back at Wren. He could already tell that she got most of the picture right now. Well, she was indeed a bright girl. He smiled to her and looked at Helena, “You suffered enough Lady Leviticus, it's time that we, the men who are already protect by the city, will know the pain of lost. It is time for us to stand up for what we believe instead of making people do the dirty work for us. I do, however, have one request of you still”

"What is it?”

Augustine moved closer to her, “Should anything happen, I entrust the fate of the holy city upon your shoulders”

Helena backed away, “What?! Father, what do you mean by that?!”

Augustine nodded his head, “It is selfish for me to ask such a thing from you, you who were hurt and shun by the city and its people, but I do not have any other worthy person in mind. The high priest trusts and respect you. In anything do happen, I want you to promise me that you will find a way to bring the holy city back life, you will create our new Genesis. Should we fell to Bolgan while the high priest is away, I want his light of love to live through you”.

Helena gritted her teeth, “How do you dare... To ask that of me?!”, she took one deep breath before she talked again, “Get out of my house”, she stormed for the front door, “Get out!!! NOW!!!”.

Augustine's expression was dull. He didn't seem too surprised of her sudden outburst. He nodded and marked to Wren to follow him, “Well, that was a nice chat, won't you agree lady Avari? We take part now and will come back in dawn”

"Don't bother”, Helena hissed.

Both healers wore their black cloaks again and stepped outside. Wren was able to catch a last quick glance of the house in which she saw Helena crouching beside her mother, her red hair head falling upon her mother's lap. Before Augustine closed the door behind him Wren heard weak sobs.

***

The next morning Wren appeared alone as she started to take care of the small house. She watched the paladin with cold silence as she finished packing. From time to time Helena would say stuff like, “You don't need to be here”, “You will be damned” and “That piece of jerk”, but as Augustine ordered her, she did not answered to any of her pleas.

Wren was so caught up with the house's chores that it took her a short while before noticing that Helena was standing by the door looking straight at her without moving. When Wren looked up she saw that Helena was fighting as hard as she could against the tears in her eyes. Wren then let go of everything she held and walked for the paladin, "I will take care of her”, she said with a sweet voice.

"I know you will”, said Helena with a bitter tune, trying her best to avoid looking at the healer directly, “I want you to take good care of-”

"Don't worry, I will guard her with my life if needed”

Helena put a gentle hand on wren's shoulder, “That's not what I mean. I want you to take care of yourself. If anything should happen, I want you to consider yourself first, is it clear?”

Wren was so surprised of the sudden change in Helena's nature that she tried to change the subject immediately, “Father Augustine has a wife in a Ascara.... Well... More to say HAD a wife. He told me that in order to become a numbered he gave up on his family. It's an old unspoken strict code of holiness that needed to be made in order to become a pure number. I was also told that High Priest Tik-Va rejected this rule and tried to fight against it... Anyway... Father Augustine told his wife to move on with her life, and he hadn't heard from her since then, but he does know that she can still be found in Ascara. He said that should anything happen, you could find shelter with her”

"In other words, he is telling me that on my mission, where I might find those horrible rumored beings, that I should protect his precious ones as well?”

"Do you really believe that he is like that?”

Helena hesitated for a moment before giving a bitter smile to Wren, “Tell him that I allow him to address me as 'Helena' from now on. I hope this answer your question”

Wren nodded with a smile. Both the girls looked at each other before parting.

***

On her way Helena noticed caravans going into the city. The sight of one Paladin leaving on her own did surprised whoever that knew about the ways of the holy warriors, but with her, in secret followed General Kolgrim.

Mysteria
01-13-2010, 06:13 PM
Chanclera- City of Lothian

"child"....Ciara tossed in her sleep. "child"....Ciara lay on the floor trying to ignore the cold that she felt and the voices that she heard. She must be dreaming. When she no longer could ignore them both she moved to close the windows but found them to be already closed. The voice persisted.

Ciara stood frozen in horror as she realized that the voice was coming from within the fire itself "You... Children of nature... You who can hear the calls of the wild and spirits...”
Ciara shook her head. "Wha..." The voice continued as the shadows grew larger. Ciara backed away from the shadows and stumbled to the floor. The voice remained relentless. Was Ciara dreaming? She must be dreaming and try as she might she couldn't control her thoughts or actions. “All in some mission, you must find that unending fire of hope... Help the world against those who wish to destroy it...”

The voice was fading quickly as Ciara struggled to understand it's meaning. "What... I don't?-”

"...No time... a*****.... **** *** ****** ***”

"What?! I don't understand anything!!!” Ciara yelled as a coldness settled over her and the flames returned to normal.

Ciara felt warm hands on her and heard her name being repeated. When Ciara could finally focus she found Arjak holding her lightly shaking her. She stared at him blankly trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind.

"Are you well?”, he asked, “You shouted at your sleep.”

Ciara looked from the fire to Arjak, whose eyes burned bright as the light of the fire reflected in those lupine lenses. “Did I dream....?”

Arjak seemed to be confused more then her, “Yes you did, I had to wake you up...”

"Ascara...”

"Huh?”, said Arjak.

"I... I think I was just told to head for Ascara....” Ciara replied only to be met with a slight shaking of Arjak's head and the words "A Wolf Dream" Arjak seemed to be speaking to himself outloud but Ciara listened. "On occasion, my dreams will bring me messages through the eyes and mind of the wolf. Stilll, mine have never been clear enough to decypher so soon after waking. Mayhap you have a greater intellect than I, and would not doubt it. Such happenings as this are rare in my experience, but not impossible." Arjak's focus shifted to Ciara. Ciara clung slightly to Arjak her breath returning to normal as her thoughts began to clear.

"The dream was so vivid Arjak. The shadows....they told me to go to Ascara...find an unending fire of hope and help the world against those who wish to destroy it."


"Should we leave immediately or do you wish to wait for sunrise?" Ciara heard Arjak asking of her as she tried to regain her composure and rise to her feet. Arjak was helping her to stand at which time Ciara realized that the Norgard was barely clothed. Moving herself away from him quickly she smiled thanking him for his assistance and took a seat in a nearby chair.

"No we wait for the dawn. Neither one of us has slept. The journey is far and we must be refreshed before we leave. Go back to sleep Arjak. I shall trouble you no more this night."

Ciara was so tired and could scarcely stay awake as the words came out in a barely audible whisper. "Sleep now Arjak, sleep well." Leaning her head against the back of the chair Ciara was fast asleep within moments. Ciara burrowed herself into the chair nuzzling against the soft fabric oblivious to the fact that the Norgard had lifted her and was carrying her to the bed and that it was not the chair she had nuzzled against, but rather that it was his warm strong chest.

StormWolf
01-14-2010, 12:20 AM
Chanclera- City of Lothian


"Of course, milady. In the morn." Arjak nodded an affirmative to the young woman, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He waited for her to fall soundly asleep before gigngerly picking the woman up in his powerful arms. He paused for a moment, his cheeks reddening by just a shade when she snuggled into his chest. He was not blushing! It was the headrush from springing from bed.... yeah... that was it!!!

Arjak walked softly for his size, managing to make little noise as he transported Ciara to her proper sleeping place. He set her down in the side of the bed he slept on earlier, the mattress and sheets still warm from his own body. With a gentleness that was awkward and unbecoming from a man of his musculature and size, Arjak slid Ciara's legs under to comforter, trying to focus on not trying to wake her up instead of how soft and warm her skin was.

Being an elder brother, Arjak had much experience with tucking in slumbering girls. Tread softly, like a wolf stalking an elk, for if you wake a sleeping Norgard woman, you would stand a better chance against a rabid grizzly. Moving her arms by her sides, he acted just as he would if her were tucking in little Elayne. He pulled the comforter over her, to where Ciara's head was free, and he placed a kiss upon her forehead.....

What by the ashes of my ancestors...? He thought, bug-eyed at what he did without thinking. Really? Did instinct really make him do that? Whenever he put his little sisters to bed, they asked for a kiss on the forehead, saying that it would act as a shield against nightmares.

"Burn you to ashes, Arjak al'Andunn, you bloody, flaming fool." Arjak muttered to himself quietly, scratching at the hair on his chin. He grumbled and ran a hand through his thick, black locks of hair. Sighing with exasperation, Arjak went back to the blankets Ciara had abandoned and readied a sleeping spot. He looked at the floor with disdain, thinking about how little room Ciara actually took in that bed of hers. Surly she would not mind if he slept on the edge, on top of the covers?

The Norgard nobleman laid down on the soft mattress and pulled the blanket as well as his fur-lined cloak over himself, closing his eyes and quickly allowing himself to fall asleep.

****

Arjak awoke as the night began birthing a new day, the rays of red and yellow cascading over the treetops as the animals of the wilderness began to stir with life. The large Norgard wasted no time in dressing himself, pulling his sturdy breeches over his muscular legs and his jerkin over his chest. Straping up his boots and bracers, wrapping his fur-and-leather kilt around his waist, and attatching his weapons. The cloak came before the shield, and Arjak was ready to travel.

He walked over to Ciara's side of the bed and shook her gently by the shoulder, just enough to rouse someone. "Dawn has come, milady. Judging by what you saw, we had best make haste."

Heirosyth
01-16-2010, 08:33 PM
Ivalor - Camelot

The finely dressed Dravon Shylock could be spotted by anyone inherently drawn to wealth and luxury, both of which emanated from the shrewd trader lord. His green eyes wandered to Cronus, a smile instantly produced from his lips.

"Let's find a place a bit more comfortable than this. It's unlike you to discuss business without a glass of wine in your hand."

Wearing a light gray robe flowing with a purple sash, distinctive for the small white feathers sewn into the border with several turquoise jewels, and a matching cape is hanging over his shoulder to hide his sheathed sword, Dravon recognized his sometime-employee instantly; after all, the assassin's garb was ironically distinctive, making him easily recognizable to one who knew what to look for.

"Let us step inside my parlor, then, dear fly," Dravon said with a smirk, sliding his arm around the back and shoulders of the assassin as he walked him into the folds of his tent.

"I have a task for you, of course, and yes, you shall be handsomely rewarded, but it is a special kind of task in that it is two-fold in the way of its completion, and your payment depends on both ends being met, lest you put in more hours pro-bono this year than you wish to..." the Merchant Lord of the Scales explained, stepping ahead of Cronus and seating himself in the rich velvet backed throne that he now slid down and rested against. He gestured with his right hand, motioning for the assassin to take a seat, as his glittering emerald eyes remained focused on Cronus.

Interlacing his ringed fingers calmly and gracefully, Dravon continued his explanation of this latest offer: "It has come to my attention, of late, that the high council here in Ivalor is... scrambling... as it were, like a bunch of rats upon a chunk of raw meat thrown their way. You'll notice among rats in such circumstances that there is all manner of hustling and bustling, biting and tussling, clawing and shoving to get at said piece of meat. So you see, it has not escaped my notice." That same slick smile now spread across the lips of the Merchant Lord like quicksilver.

"I have in my possession three such rats, actually, of the scurrying, scuttling lot of them, who have grown quite fat off the scraps they are given, and expect much of me. Particular among them is the fattest rat of all, whom I have yet to completely fit into my pocket, owing to his obscene size. I daresay, that were I to successfully do so, I think you will find me to be an exceedingly generous man."

Dravon then stopped, and took a bottle of red wine, a Chianti by the look of the label, twisted in the cork remover, and pulling it forth masterfully, he poured himself a glass as well as one for his company. "Be careful with that," he warned in a fatherly tone, "Drink too much and you may find yourself spending the last coin you have just to get another..."

"To the point then," he resumed, producing another cork, identical to the one that he had just removed, he put the two side by side, and then stood up, placing the unblemished cork into a vice-like device, placing it over the neck of the bottle and then pushing down on the handles of each side, he put the unscrewed cork into the bottle of Chianti, lodging in it just as if the bottle had never been opened at all. Then, taking his seat with a smile, he pulled forth another, smaller bottle, such as would disappear easily into the purse of any man.

Master Shylock held up the small bottle, looking for all the world to be of clear glass containing a deep amethyst colored liquid in the light of the lamp. "I have here a certain tonic of similar properties," he muttered, studying it as if it captured his sudden interest, with cinched eyebrows, narrowing eyes, and pursed lips, and then those eyes shifted to Cronus. "Very addictive," he noted curtly with a shake of his head. And then he set it down on the table, staring down at it now.

"Father Boglin is a very powerful man, with as many eyes and ears as I have, and I know that we share some of them. It is a silly fool who would try to slit his throat, because his controlling interest in this city is undeniable. To set all the rats scurrying in every direction helps us not. Better instead to leave them as they are."

Dravon glanced up at Cronus for a moment and then raised his eyebrows. "Which is why you'll be threatening his life."

The Merchant Lord gave the assassin a moment to wrestle with the logic of that statement.

"I trust you possess the abilities to get past his guards and into his private chambers. When you do, I would like you to deliver this to him," the Merchant Lord said, sliding a rolled up scroll across to Cronus, with the seal of the High Council of Twelve upon it. "You will hand him this at that moment when you have your blade securely against the warm flesh of his neck, and inform him that you have been paid to kill him. At which point he will of course bargain for his life, and this, I'm sure you'll recognize, is where you will have a chance to fatten your total sum, as well as giving you something to tide you over until you receive your full remittance from me."

Shylock took in a deep breath, "I know that you are man of means, and that is why the nature of this work shall grant you incentive to squeeze from the giant rat as much as you are able. However, retaining such a find requires you successfully negotiating the fee of his life and thus leaving him very alive and well with the scroll in hand. Once done, reward yourself as you desire for a day or two, and then see me again, when I shall reveal to you the second half of this particular job, upon the completion of which you shall receive the payment in full for both halves of the total work."

"I trust these terms agreeable, Master Audata? If so, you must move quickly, as you need to complete this first task in timely fashion with the meeting of the Twelve, which is to occur very soon, quite off schedule with their usual activities."

"In the meantime, I have an entire case of wine to deliver to a certain fat rat," Dravon remarked with a sly smirk, rising to shake the hand of the assassin and seal the deal in gentlemanly fashion.

Cheshire
01-17-2010, 12:54 AM
((I uh... forget exactly which town they're in ^^;; but... it's the same place Kilyna's in, obviously >_>;; )

Laya blinked before bursting out into laughter, "Shadows? Bah... probably just a bunch of drunk idiots who saw a cat and thought it was a monster..." She shifted her weight a bit and sighed, looking up before rolling her eyes.

"On top of that, when you're stalking me, I think that qualifies your reasons for stalking me as sort of my business... and on topic of the bird, nice bird, can he repeat human speech?" she spoke, in a tone of amusement, before laughing again, "You're an interesting woman, and honestly, attractive as any other, and I assure you I would love nothing more than to converse all day, and gaze into those pretty eyes but unfortunately, fate as decided it cannot be so. I have pressing business waiting for me elsewhere, you see" she spoke, her tone completely ambiguous as to whether she was actually flirting, or merely taunting Kilyna.

Adjusting her attire to keep it as continually concealing as possible, she then looked Kilyna directly in the eyes, her own sky blue eyes being clearly visible for the first time in the conversation, "Are we done here, can I go about my business, my dear lady?"

Volkov
01-17-2010, 11:59 AM
Ivalor: Port of Hope- The morn of departure

“S-SYMON!”
A middle aged servant woman came running up to the long blonde haired man as he was readying to board a ship that was heading to Tallas. So they could then head towards Tamur and then to Esgaras on the fools errand the merchant lord threw him on to watch and safeguard Figoro and Melius in exchange for the information that he saught. But he stared for a moment at the young lady. She took what Symon had purchased from the various Merchants in previous hours into her own hands except for one rather pungent smelling bag that he refused to part with along with his codex which he had been writeing in while waiting for Figoro and Melius to get ready.

“P…Please excuse my insubordination…” she mumbled to the onlookers, the lady was flushed like she had been panicking in fright all night. But she sternly looked at Symon and very well slapped him across the face even with what she was holding. The kind of slap that makes all a cowardice men wince and made Symon stagger due to his build. “How dare you- HOW dare you!.. run off. After the master had sincerely accepted you with humble breast abroad all thems' years ago!” She lowered her voice angrily to a harsh whisper to the lax eyed Symon who’s head was bobbing. A hand to the side of his face that still pigminted red with a hand mark “I’m going ta’ have to tell him about you running off. No doubt to try and find some lucky charms. that you are so fond of... skulls? dead animals? Whatever you convinced the master of I’m not having it. We’re going back to Sigurd and I’m telling Master Zarubin about your little excursion-“

He interrupted her by grabbing her by the shoulders and looking into her eyes. nothing about his face had changed at all. And the servant got irritated and was going to continue speaking but Symon cut in first-

“Why my humblest apologies Cisila. The lovliest and humble of maids. You work far too hard for your own good and I am but a worthless war-hound that keeps interrupting what could be your fabulous adventures out upon the high seas like you told me when I was just but a young boy As sure as you may be that I ran stray from you our paths did meet here but they may not meet again for I have a greater calling and you must tell Father of this promise me, promise me that you will tell him that I have gone off to seek my treasure alike no other before me and if I come back that I should be feared more than any other for I will have the absolute power to change destiny itself and the waking seas should know my name-“

At this time it was plausible that people around were stunned at the bravado, elegance and dance in which Symon spoke simply one step away from breaking into song. yet everyone was overlooking the fact that Symon sounded like a homeless lunatic who wanted to take over a kingdom with his fast paced spewling. It was possible that Figoro and Melius were clapping hands to their faces in irritation or looking onwards with bewitched concern knowing that a minute off the hand of the clock could mean their very death by the Merchant Lord’s eyes set ablaze if they did not set sail on time. For time was money and money was everything

“- But alas, not now. stay ever vigilant-“

“HEY YOU LOON WE’RE SETTING SAIL!” one of the ship’s crewmen bellowed from the top as Symon let go of his caretaker and began sprinting carelessly to the ship calling back to her;

“-My morning flower my smiling dewdrop my grateful nanny-“

“I swear if you keep billowing that bull on board we’re gonna toss you OVER-BOARD!” interupted the crewman once again proving the man had an incredibly short temper.

And not a word more was heard from Symon as the ship pulled out of the Port of Hope. On the way to The Port of Tallas in Ascara. The woman however stayed there stunned until someone shook her shoulder asking why she was standing there tilting her head “Who’s this Cisila?.....Master Novikov sure has a sense of….” The red haired pale faced woman dressed in darkened garbs looked around panicked before gasping “Oh-lord-darnet! When Zarubin hears about this he will not be ever so pleased….”


Sailing From [Ivalor: Port of hope] to
[Ascara: Port Town of Tallas] –

Symon spoke nary a word to either Figoro and Melius. During the time set sail.
At a glazed glance he saw the men could keep well care of themselves, seeming less tense. But less than at ease without the eye of the merchant lord hovering over them. Symon just stared off to the shifting waves. Yet keeping close eye on the surroundings of Figoro and Melius. When it was time for them to retire for the eve Symon slept very little. Keeping propped up by his staff. Most of the ship’s crew stayed away from him. which seemed enough for the merchants to respect their Merchant Master’s choice of Symon as a escort. of course all this was just a calculation of Symon’s among the other noise that popped through his mind.
But through the night aside from the creaks and waves that lulled others to sleep. Symon was around the corner from their sleeping quarters digging through a bag he had brought onboard until he heard an unfamiliar creak. Someone was going near Figoro and Melius’s sleeping quarters….but just as soon the man noticed something following him. a boney cat from what the shadows had told him. But what was a cat doing on such a ship of merchants? The man got his answer when the flesh and bone but nary living creature came to attack him. Symon moving in to muffle the man as to attempt to not disrupt the merchant’s slumber. But regardless of his attempts it was more likely they did hear a scuffle and a loud thud. Symon could only hope that the fact their door was not opened was a fact that they were safe. And yet the stalker was out like a light. Symon sealed the deal with help from the cat before with a flick of his staff the boned creature returned to the rotting bag. With no words spoken the one who was once a stalker-esque type of man was put into a closet. To not be found until Four mornings later when Symon Figoro and Melius were by the time gone, with his lower Jaw left arm and right foot suspiciously absent.


Arrived [Ascara: Port Town of Tallas]
(Two or Three Days since departure)

On the morn when they arrived Symon aired his shirt a bit by tugging on it loosely as Figoro and Melius were tying up loose ends from the ship. Ascara truly was a heatstroke’s difference than a blast furnace in Sigurd. And nature had no mercy. Or so that was what he read in books….but the desert they would have to traverse would be another story. Anything could come from anywhere….though this worry was insignificant. Symon would have to see the job through or else. There was no do or die. Only do. And he had to see that Shylock’s Merchants got through this without so much as their lives shattered to the winds. They prepared to face the desert heat of morning on the backs of Camels wearing cloaks Symon did not want to wear one at first but he was encouraged by a concerned onlooker who was leaving Tallas.
Due to the fact that Symon looked like a woman, with female discrimination in Ascara being high it was assumed to be one of the many cases of
"Better safe than sorry"

Ivalor far behind them and the rest of Ascara right on the bridge of their eyebrows.

It was going to be an incredibly long trip full of rather droll silence aside from Figoro and Melius’s jibs back and forth to keep their wits about them.

Kris
01-19-2010, 09:24 PM
Ascara- Port Town of Tamur

A shadow was walking not so far from where Laya and Kilyna were and since they were not bothered by him, so did he cared little for their matters. Hidden he walked until he entered one of the many street oil lamps' light that enabled his outlines to become visible. He was a tall pale human male, with somewhat exotic beauty, yet shy expression. He had spiky short dark red, almost brown, hair and body of a good shape. He was one of those individuals that wished to be swallowed whole by the darkness rather then blending in with some company.. Then again, he had little money to spare on company anyway...

So maybe it was that reason, or maybe because he drank too much, or maybe just because he was moody after losing another job, but apparently, he was finally desperate enough to curse the day he was born.

How long has it been since he last found any reason to live?

As he leaned against some building in one of the dead-end alley he entered as he walked aimless again, he looked up at the sky and then dug his gaze back at the ground. Taking inside him the breeze with a deep breath, Ariel Ridgeworth started to remember his old life in Aerosia. Ariel hadn't returned there since he left while still young, his parents disapproved of his likening towards the blade.

His father was a decent, respected fisher that was known for his skills as a mage and while on travels Ariel learned pretty quickly that family's genetics cannot be cut that simply by denying them. So, as he searched his place in life, while his lust for battle and inborn skills of a wizard guiding him, he ended up taking the path of an elemental warrior.

He found his place in the end as high ranker in Sigard's lab army, but then some new high up showed up and started changing things. Ariel could have stayed and try to adapt or at least fight for what he believed but as always, running away seemed like the better solution and he aimed himself for the quick cash, glory and fighting that life as a mercenary suggest to him.

Another deep breath, and Ariel was back to reality. If only he knew back then, what he discovered about the road for his dream now. If only did he knew how thorny his choice would be...

The thought of throwing away his life already passed in his mind few times, he just never had the guts to do it.

And so... as any day of the last few months, Ariel began moving and strolling up many different alley-ways, trying to find some cheap place to spend the night in. Since he had no money he needed to settle on sleeping outside. It was nice really... Once you get used to it anyway...

Swaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap....

Ariel heard a whistle carried by the night's breezes. The terrifying sensation which followed the sound caused him to shiver slightly. From the shadowy corners of the nearby building something was emerging. It followed a straight trail and stopped beside a stree lamp inches away from him. The new comer halted as he entered the ray of light coming from the lamp and Ariel could have seen more details about it: He (if it was really a he) wore a brown leather robe, which was torn and worn-out. Most of his face was covered by a metallic looking mask and the hood above was covering the rest of his head. Looking closely, Ariel saw that the stranger's hands were adorned by gauntlets made by the same material as his mask along with an impressive looking breastplate made by the same substance. Little need to say that his honorable appearance made Ariel flinched somewhat with fear. It was strange. Nothing never caused him to feel like that before.

"Fear me not, Mr. Ridgeworth", started the cloaked man to say. His voice like a sound of an engravered iron, "I heard the plea of your soul, the anger for this world and here I stand before you... I am called Emonalach"

Ariel Ridgeworth panted heavily. Standing so close to this being was an hard task to do for he emitted some kind of an aura, which caused Ariel to feel somewhat so helpless and tired, as if his life's force itself was draining from him. "What do you want from me?", demanded Ariel, his brown eyes narrowing slowly, trying to hide the fear. Ariel then felt that something was tossed at him, and he quickly looked down and saw a bag of coins lying not so far from him. He returned a surprised look at the robed man, 'How?!', his mind asked, 'I didn't see him move!!!'

"I hope you will find that a reward suitable for you... I have a job for you....".

Ariel swallowed as he opened the small bag, the riches inside glowing so bright at him, and he didn't need to count the money to know that the man beside him was right. For a strange reason, Ariel felt as if the money didn't even bothered him anymore. He just wanted.... to do the job...

"Your orders will be simple, Mr. Ridgeworth", said the man, his voice somewhat more charming and luring then before and Ariel found himself unable to resist him, "You will penetrate the castle in Capital Alexandria, and kill the princess"

Ariel didn't seem disturb as he heard his orders. He found himself unwilling to protest, as if he wanted to do it whole-heartily...

"Will... I.... get... more... money?!", It wasn't Ariel who spoke now. It was something else, another side in Ariel that awoke, a side which cared only about the blood, the killing... and the reward given at the end.

Emonalach laughed weakly, "Yes... If that's what you wish".

"Money... and... fame?!"

"Is that what you wish?"

"I wish... I wish to have it all.. wait-!", Ariel knelt down to the ground in pain as he grabbed his head, "No... no, I... don't want... I..."

"What do you wish?", said Emonalach.

Ariel was still crouching at the cold earth, fighting something, a foe he did not knew he held inside.... Enemy of a man called desires and repression...

"I hope our roads will cross again, Mr. Ridgeworth... As for now, you have your orders... ", Emonalach then turned around and walked back into the shadows, "Good luck".

When Emonalach left the place it felt to Ariel as if the man he met just now, simply ceased to exit and somehow he felt that this guy was never even here to begin with. Ariel grabbed the bag of gold and turned for the nearest inn. After all, he could actually pay for a room now and... He had orders to follow... It was better to get ready...

If eyes were viewing the event, they would either ignore or act before fate made its next move...

Then again, maybe it's all about what Ariel would choose to do as well...

Volkov
01-20-2010, 01:17 AM
Ascara- Port Town of Tamur
[Three days since Symon Figoro and Melius were in the Port Town of Tallas]

After three days of ramped camping on rocks. Nearly sandstorms and scorpion ankle biting… Figoro insisted that what he had was a fatal ankle bite from a scorpion and that they should leave him in the nearest residence…but Melius chortled saying it was none such a thing and there was just a simple desert bristle stuck in his shoe. And indeed it was. the Camels were Camels. they spat. they occasionally got tired. and either merchant during the long trek complained of their stench which was only amplified by the heat.

Symon, Figoro and Melius arrived in the Port town of Tamur in late of biting night, they had gone one day without sleep and it was wearing on Figoro and Melius, as much as they were but Symon however secured the parameter of the INN they inhabited for the night. Tucking his hair in the hood of his cloak and making sure it was covering his face as he wandered about. Figoro and Melius were getting some grand rest from the weary travels. Though they made special mention to Symon despite his blathering to wake them up in three hours. They wanted sleep but they wanted their lives more. Once again not threatening to disobey their Merchant lord’s time schedule, But in his wanderings Symon went far outside the usual patrol routes for a normal mercenary….and when leaning upon the dank of an alley wall he heard something he knew he ought naught have heard.

“….And kill the princess”

Symon brought out a small square mirror from his pack pouch. Yet Symon’s eyes were none too good in adjusting from the dark to lightness from how far away the two were. He could only see the outline of what he thought were figures of people. He wanted to make sure that there was neither hide nor blonde hair that could be seen….his head was feeling clearer than it ever had before. More focused. But still a rampart noise buzzed in his head making capturing the words in his mind very difficult.

Wishes.

Money.

Fame.

These words meant nothing to Symon…
But something in him was conflicting painfully with the chance bits and the tones of voices of the two men that he heard. Perhaps the same feeling when a mortal is trying to snuff out great sins upon their lives to be forever forgotten as they steal the life from another for greater glory. And greater reward.

When Ariel’s form slouched to the ground Symon was holding a hand to his head. As if his mind was going back to the five ways split instead of the linear path those few seconds of relief brought in.

"I hope our roads will cross again, Mr. Ridgeworth... As for now, you have your orders... Good luck"

Symon dropped the mirror in his pocket to gaze around the corner with his own eye only to see Ariel running off. The second figure nowhere to be seen. Symon clutched his head gritting his teeth he felt like he was being blinded with light of a migraine. He staggered back towards the INN as fast as he could. whatever had caused him to focus had now gone. And he could only vaguely hope that Figoro and Melius were not murdered in their sleep. If they were. Symon would have just as little on his mind as usual. If they weren’t things would continue as usual.

As he entered the INN doors the Innkeeper made a rough grunt. Symon just went up to Figoro and Melius’s room opening the door lightly to find both asleep with no horrifying crimson stains to tell of their murder. while they were slumbering peacefully for some time more. Symon took a small wooden stool from the room and sat outside the door. Keeping an eye to the darkness aside from candlelight. Symon moved his sleeve aside and bit into his arm to draw blood for he had no time for ink and used his fingernail to begin writing on a fresh new page of his codex hurriedly. The patch of his face of what could be seen from the cloak was sweating. Something was scaring the blonde haired lad. …and he couldn’t understand what it was as he took a flask of whiskey from one of his pockets and took a rather ambitious gulp….biding his time to return to usual until it was time to wake Figoro and Melius…..whatever they had in mind Symon was not concerned of.

Yet he would keep them alive.
or he would never see the object....
..in which every living piece of him yearns for.

Mysteria
01-20-2010, 01:24 AM
Chanclera- City of Lothian

Ciara felt herself being shaken lightly. At first she thought it was another dream coming to haunt her until she heard the words in a calm quiet voice.

"Dawn has come, milady. Judging by what you saw, we had best make haste."

Ciara slowly opened her eyes to see the Norgard standing in front of her but she wasn't looking up at him. She was looking over at him. Feeling the soft bed beneath her she sat up with a start pulling the blankets with her as she did so before realizing that she was still fully clothed and dropping them. She couldn't help but wonder out loud to the fathers above "How in the hell did I get to bed?" Not really waiting for the Norgard to answer she regarded him thoughtfully as she realized he was already fully dressed and apparently eager to go.

Arising from the bed she continued without giving him a chance to answer her last question that wasn't really directed at him to begin with. Moving past him she brushed against him as his warmth permeated her still chilled skin. The fire had dwindled to almost being completely out during the night. Ciara couldn't quite figure out why she was having the memory of a lingering warmth of his skin against hers. Looking from the Norgard back towards the bed she dismissed the thought and made her way to the cupboard.

"No" Ciara said as she pulled forth some bread and dried meats and set them upon the table. "First we should eat and make sure we have everything we need. Then we leave." Ciara could tell the Norgard was not accustomed to taking orders from a lady by the look that he had shot her after she had said the words. It wasn't that she was trying to order him around. She simply knew it was best if they didn't leave on an empty stomach.

Softening her tone she motioned towards Arjak. "Please Arjak, join me for a light breakfast first. Are you not hungry? Then, we can make our way towards Ascara." Ciara waited for the Norgard to accept her invitation although her mind kept drifting to the night before. What exactly had happened and what exactly she had dreamed were still unclear to her.

StormWolf
01-20-2010, 07:38 PM
"How the hell did I get to bed?" Arjak couldn't help but smrik both at her and at himself. He quirked an eyebrow when he realized that was the extent of the good morning exchange of pleasantries.

"Good morning to you too." he said with a small chip in his voice as she walked by. He smiled as he felt her brush up against him. I do think that was on purpose. Arjak mused to himself as he followed Ciara to her den. When she offered food, the large Norgard gladly accepted, dipping in a light bow and only sitting after Ciara had done so. Arjak dug his almost-wolfen teeth into the bread and dried meat he was given as if he would never eat again. He brushed crumbs from his facial hair before speaking.

"This... Thing in your dreams said go to Ascara, aye? Did it say why or do phantoms dictate your vacations?" Arjak smiled slyly at Ciara, even chuckling a bit. The large Norgard wolfed the rest of his food, washing it down with a swig from his ale horn.

"Now, milady, I urge us to cover as much ground as we can while the SunWolf still prowls the sky. I prefer to not deal with brigands or those Shadows... They complicate things in the worst of ways." He allowed himself a glance over Ciara's form with a smile,

"Thank you for a delicious breastfast... Breakfast." Arjak cleared his throat, cursing himself in his mind. At least he recovered himself... Poorly.

"Ahem. Shall we?" The Norgard Noble said while standing, taking the dishes to the washbowl.

Lacey
01-22-2010, 01:19 AM
Ascara- Port Town of Tamur

Kilyna’s temper started to flair. It took all of her control for her to not charge the woman in front of her, sword drawn. Her day hadn’t actually been the best in her life, and now this woman was making it worse. The captain had been sure that hadn’t been possible until this moment.

“We are certainly not done here,” she unsuccessfully tried to keep the malice from her voice. Memories of her crew came back to her in flashes and she clenched the fist that wasn’t held in the air. “I’m afraid I’ve had some things that are very precious taken from me because of those so called cats. I would to anything to get them back.” This is one of those times I wish I didn’t have that silly code to not kill anyone. I want to run her through and leave her to the rats.

It was all she could to not at least land a punch for what this ignorant chick was saying about Nesera. If she didn’t have information about her crew, she definitely would have; image or no. Or maybe she’d just sick Terri or Seari on her. Either way, there would be laughs.

“I would greatly appreciate your help.” Somehow, she was both begging and threatening. How she did it, she’d never know. Once her crew was good and rescued, maybe they could tell her.

Suddenly she heard a flutter of wings and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. For a moment, she looked towards Nesera, then in the direction that he was looking. A familiar stream of curses flew through Kilyna’s mind and she made a small gesture with her hand, lowering her hand and looking at the bird.

“What now, Nes?” she asked irritably, looking at the woman out of the corner of her eye. “This better be good.” Animals have an uncanny sense of danger. Her animal friends had saved her life more than once with their senses. She wasn’t about to start ignoring them now.

Nesera took off, wheeling over an area not far from where they were standing before returning to a perch on a building nearby.

“Must I? I’m kind of busy right now…” Nesera screeched and Kilyna sighed.

“I’m afraid our business isn’t over but I’m afraid I must prolong it. Don’t worry, though. I’ll find you.” Hopefully. With that, gave the bird a look and he took off. She followed him, even though the place he’d wheeled over wasn’t far and it seemed he was taking an unnecessarily long route.

She would never remember how she got there later, but she ended up on a roof with Nesera perched beside her.

What she heard made her seethe. Nesera looked at her, his wings fluttering and his piercing stare making her sigh once again.

“Okay, okay. You were right. You know, sometimes, I think you’re human with this attitude of yours.”

The bird merely stared at her.

“I suppose we should head back to the end. Who knows what Serai and Terri will do if they’re too bored.”

Stream
01-22-2010, 01:47 AM
Capital Camelot - Ivalor

Cronus nodded slowly as Dravon spoke, taking in every bit of detail about his task. He was a bit of a perfectionist, and never liked to make mistakes, as he saw them as something of a flaw. The task seemed standard for Dravon, though he wouldn't be killing anyone this time; only issuing a threat. His wine sat still in its glass, the red liquid's pungent smell annoying the assassin a bit. Alcohol was something that would slow down his progress and hinder his abilities.

"I'm sure there's no need for me to ask where he's going to be, or what's going to be around him. You probably wouldn't be hiring me to do this if I wasn't skilled enough to do something as simple as finding my target." he said, smirking a bit. Cronus slid the scroll into his sash, the indent hidden by his cape. He would need to be changing his peculiar clothing before continuing.

"It's generous of you to allow me to exact my own price from Boglan. I have something that's surprisingly more important to me than gold I want from him." he said. His lips curled to a devious smile as he stood from his chair, turning his back on Dravon as he reached the exit of the tent. For a moment he faltered, standing with the flap open pondering for a moment.

"I want a nice dinner when I return for my payment. Fish preferred, and a fine wine. None of the cheap frill you use to please those who are none the wiser. And of course, I'd like a reward for the night as well."

Capital Camelot - Courtyard - Ivalor

The assassin clad in feathers and gems wouldn't be able to get close enough to his target without sticking out like a sore thumb. It would be hard enough to blend through the crowds without gaping yuppies pointing and staring. Instead, the poorly dressed and stain covered robed Cronus would be the one to greet Boglan tonight.

Through his shroud of darkness, he was able to some swiftly and unseen, nearly invisible as he passed in front of archers and guards. Boglan had been traveling with the usual entourage of personal body guards and city guard keeping a close on him. Archers littered the rooftops, all seemingly there for the sole purpose of pissing off Cronus; there wasn't a damn place Boglan would enter where he wasn't seen by a guard. It was a bit peculiar really; one would think he would employ one of his guards to do his busy work. It seems these messages were important enough for him to give them personally.

Each location Boglan stopped at seemed more luxurious than the last. Obviously the company he kept and held close had a fine taste for luxury. Magnificent plazas and homes were fine for eye-candy, but a pain to get inside. Finally, it seemed a moment of exploitation had finally arrived.

With the sensory powers of the assassin, Cronus was able to eavesdrop on Boglan's conversation with his guards as if he were one of the poor saps hired to guard this decrepit old man.

"I'll be handling this next meeting without the aid of my guards. You can stand outside; this one will be quick. By no means should you intrude on our meeting. Anyone who disobeys these orders would be punished severely and without remorse." the priest's eyes narrowed onto each of his guards, making sure his point was clear. He walked slowly towards the entrance of the home, and without knocking, stepped inside.

"How odd. Maybe Boglan wants someone to kill him. Even I doubt his carelessness." Cronus whispered to himself. Through a window on the side, two silhouettes seemed to be conversing with each other. One had poured two glasses of what Cronus would guess was wine, and sat across from the other. The assassin crept up to a low window, pulling himself up onto the frame, working his way from stone to window towards the silhouettes.

Kris
01-23-2010, 11:01 PM
Ivalor- Capital Camelot

Half a day has passed since the nuisance known as Helena left the city. For someone who wished her to leave for such a long time, Boglan felt rather uneasy without her around. It wasn't that he suddenly began to grow some likening for the paladin. It was that now, when she was out of the picture that there wasn't any particular person to which he regard to as nemesis.

Nevertheless, even if she wasn't around Boglan couldn't have shock off the feeling that someone was ready to stab him in the back and as he walked the city he kept looking behind him just to make sure that no one, not even his own guards would try anything.

Boglan wasn't the kind of person to be over his head for these kind of thoughts, but ever since he was needed to do certain deeds that he began to notice some changes around him, still, most of his part was about to be over and he needed to inform it to the person who was unable to reach the holy city and in order to do so, Boglan was rushing all over the town making final preparation before setting himself for his office.

The town's folks were surprised to find him marching in daylight, considering the fact that he was mostly kept to himself and rarely seen outside. Some bowed, others gave him a dark look but no one dared to stand in his way and those that were, quickly pushed themselves aside, clearing a way for the high priest.

At last, when he reached his office he quickly took a parchment and quickly moved his hands as words made of ink appeared above the paper. He let his eyes passed upon the letter only once before he carefully sealed it and walked outside. By the time he finished the latter, evening was approaching, and Boglan decided it was time to make himself ready for the meeting planned later with the twelve.

He marked with his hand and a young guard moved closer to him. Boglan looked at the young man carefully before handling the scroll to him, “I let you know, dear boy, that if, by any means this letter shall be opened before it arrives to its destination, that I shall personally rid of every single member of your family, do you understand me?”

The guard swallowed hard before taking away the scroll, he gave one last look at Boglan before disappearing within the crowds of sentries. When he was completely out of his sight, Boglan addressed the rest of his soldiers.

"I'll be handling the next meeting without the aid of my guards. You can stand outside; this one will be quick. By no means should you intrude on our meeting. Anyone who disobeys these orders would be punished severely and without remorse".

Smirking at the surprised and confused look that were sent at him from every direction Boglan thought to himself of the coming events, before he moved to his personal chamber to get ready for the meeting.

***

Ivalor- Mountain Magido

The sun was already gone and trails of orange lines were coloring the sky. Helena looked up and was amazed to find how was the fiery scene before her remind her of her mother's hair. She smiled to herself before looking away. The thoughts of the old woman brought nothing but sad feelings that she wanted to keep hidden. What was the good of having them right now anyway?

She began walking again, thinking it was better to catch more paces before night, in order to advance quickly to the nearest port.

***

Ivalor-Capital Camelot

"I believe we do need to have a word”, Boglan felt a metallic blade forced into his throat.

"How did you get in?”, he smirked knowing that his life was his for as long as the man who attacked him needed him to be alive. Did he rushed a bit too fast, forgetting the feelings he had earlier? He should have known someone would be out to get him now that the young paladin was gone. Could it be that young Sergeant that was trying to hurt him now that his mistress was gone?

"It wasn't that much of an easy task, I tell ya”, said the assassin, “I couldn't even dream of you being alone as you dress... All the better for me”

"May I know your name?”

"Nope, but you can have this instead”, Boglan noticed the piece of paper that was shoved into his hands, but before Boglan could have seized it, the scroll was already lying on the floor.

"Oh, not just yet!”, said the assassin as he noticed that the high priest was about to get down and grab the paper, “I want to know something, old man”

"You demand a lot, and I can't be given of your name?”

The assassin considered his words before answering, “It's Cronus”

"Cronus”, repeated the high priest.

"Now, answer me, why do I feel so uneasy around you. The whole city emits such pure aura and yet you....”

Boglan couldn't help but smirk at that remark, “I am what?”

Cronus pushed in the blade a bit too far, making a clean small trail of blood, “I could have read some of what you wrote back then. Who is that guy, Emonalach? What are you to him? Why can't he enter the city?... and... That girl you talked of in the letter... The paladin... Is there a reason why he requested her out?”

Boglan smile's grow bigger, “I have a feeling, young boy, that you were not paid to learn all of this, now did you?”, Boglan was about to turn around and look at him, but Cronus was quicker. He hit the old man in the face, dizzying him long enough to allow himself to get away from the room. Boglan, now rubbing his face from the impact, looked down at the scroll. He seized it and started reading. A laughter burst out of him when he was done, "Silly boy, your master has nothing to gain now. Their fates have already been written. He's got nothing on me. NOTHING!!!”

***

Father Boglan had dressed himself in his finest gowns for the night. He eyed the guards who bowed and swiftly removed themselves from his sight. He then fixed his collar and opened the doors leading within the huge chamber of the consulate. The room was rather dark, with some lights around, magical made, beside each and every chair of the “god hand” clan. Boglan smirked to himself. They were all present.

Murmurs reached his ears, and Boglan took his sweet time as he reached for the stand, allowing them to get everything out of their systems before he will preach. Once he was standing above them, they hushed almost at once.

"Dear friends, you must be wondering why have I summon you all tonight in a rather short notice, well, truth be told, the answer is rather very simply actually...".

The two high priests now moved in to stand beside him, as if they were indicate to do so in just this very moment. The priests that set close could see the stress reflected upon their elderly faces, that were adding to them a few more wrinkles that were lined by the dim lights. Those that set even closer saw that the two priests shivered slightly.

"Sure it could have waited, father Boglan, until the end of the holiday?", stood up one man and spoke up.

"Insolent as always, number 9 of the consulate, father Vincent. Your impatience wounds me", barked Boglan at him.

The priest returned to sit down, his face burning with rage and embarrassment.

"Thank you. Now, I will attend to the matters at hand. First of all, the high priest have been gone for too long from his seat, due to his illness of course, but still, too long. I'm taking full charges now", Boglan heard the mumbles of the audience before him rising up again, his smirk of victory growing bigger.

"What's the meaning of that?", asked another priest.

"Boglan, although you replaced the high priest Tik-va, you have no right to claim yourself his rank and responsibility without the approval of the consulate", said another.

"You're not even blood-relative to the clan, how dare ya?!".

They all screamed at once, disapproving of what they've just heard.

The two high priests standing beside Boglan shivered even more, fearing the might of the screaming and the accusing claims, for as they stood beside Boglan, they themselves were marked as outsiders and traitors to the clan.

Boglan watched them fight with glee and his smirk turned to be so big that it was almost inhuman. He enjoyed the fight going below him so much: their rage, their uncertainty.

Yes, he has been waiting for this burst of anger for so long, he almost forgot how it felt like feeding off of it. At that moment his eyes changed slightly but the people around him were too busy fighting and yelling then noticing any change in him.

"Now, my first objective would be making an alliance with Esgares. Our paladins will be sent there and will append to their main army's force".

At that moment the doors opened up and a man was carried into the hall by two paladins.

"LET GO OF ME!".

One priest sitting in the audience, number 7 in the consulate, Father Augustine, recognized the voice of the man, for he was no other then one of the most faithful underlings of Lady Helena.

"What's the meaning of this?!", asked father Augustine.

"This one, Sir Leonard Cornelius, ranked Sergeant to the former squad of Captain Leviticus, has tried to openly provoke the young Privates to go against me as soon as words of Lady Leviticus's last mission reached him. Let him serve as a warning to us all”

“Warning?!”

“Anyone who will object me, shall suffer a painful death, starting with this young boy", Boglan moved forward to the man, “Your futile efforts to stop me proved themselves ill, young Sergeant", said Boglan.

Leonard didn't found within him words to reply. He could have told him how foolish he was, for Lady Helena was still free and could repay him one day, or let him know that some people in Ivalor had already planned to overthrow him.

"It's too late for all that, boy... all too late..."

Leonard's eyes shone with fear... Could Boglan actually know what he was thinking about?!

Someone screamed with fear and before Leonard could do anything he noticed shadows from all over the gloomy hall striding down and wrapping themselves around the priests. The shadows appeared to be somehow entering the men's body through their mouths, and before long most of them were already lying dead on the floor.

Leonard, too fearful of what he had just seen, dropped on his knees, unable to fix his gaze from the scene before him, One priest however was able to flee...

***

Ivalor-Capital Camelot, outskirts

Wren woke up in alert as someone broke into the house. She had such a long day taking care of the old woman that she didn't notice that she fall asleep. Looking around her, she half noticed the man that was beside her.

"Father Augustine?", she screamed, watching her teacher who was covered in blood.

"Are you allri-"

"QUICK, GRABE MY HAND!", he yelled.

"What's going on?", she asked as he led her outside of the house. Before long she watched something that looked like black figures gathering around the house the two of them had just left.

"Boglan.... It was a trap... Killed everyone of the consulate... ", uttered Father Augustine.

She tried to take in everything she has just heard, and once she did, stopped in her place, "NO!", she reject him, or at least tried to push his hands from her, "Helena's mother is still inside the house. They could hurt her!!!".

Father Augustine bit his lips but fought the great urge to go back. His grip on Wren was stronger this time and once again he made her follow him. As they ran again, the events of the night returned to hunt his mind, how his companions were killed by some unknown evil and how he alone survived... He couldn't even explain how... All he knew was that something entered into his body, tried to kill him from within as it penetrate his mind to find any weakness to abuse, but all he could think about was his wife, and then.... Within himself... He found the power to resist... He found... Hope...

Father Augustine shook his head. Now was definitely not the time to think of it. Once the two reached a clear place full of flora, he turned around and looked at Wren who was fighting against the tears in her eyes.

"I... I promised... To... To take care of her...”, she sobbed weakly.

"Wren, listen to me, it's important", he grabbed the young healer by the shoulers and tried to shake any reason out of her, “Wren!!!”, when she started to calm down a bit he started to talk again, "I'm going to send you to the Port of Hope. I wish I could have sent you farther then that, but I don't much more power to spend...".

Father Augustine pulled out a small scroll from the sleeves of his white cloak. He started to chant something and waved his hands while he did so, and before long the scroll was burnt in fire and vanished into thin air, while a blue ethereal circle appeared out of the blue.

"Quick, go inside. Find Lady Helena, she would reach you in few days time. She is our only chance. You must tell her everything".

At that moment they heard voices.

"Quick! Go!", rushed her Father Augustine, who already appeared to be too weak to move.

"But", tried Wren to protest, "What about you?".

Father Augustine gave a silly smile and ripped off the sleeve of his right hand. Looking closely into it, Wren saw some kind of a black tattoo on his arm.

"'Sh'a-va'", Wren read aloud the word that was engraved on his hand and knew that in the clan's ancient language, it meant 'Seven'.

"I'm one of the 12 consulate and by magical blood oath I'm bound to this city and therefor, cannot leave without passing the oath to someone else who will take my place... Which cannot be done by simple measures".

Wren was terrified but Father Augustine smiled, "Don't worry, if I stay here I might be able to Save Lady Sophia as well".

The steps increased and were much closer then they were before.

"GO!", the priest pushed Wren into the portal and watched her leave. The blueish magical portal closed few seconds after she was swallowed within it.

Mysteria
01-27-2010, 01:44 AM
Chanclera- City of Lothian

Ciara busied herself with making sure they had plenty to eat before they left and as she did so she looked over to Arjak as he spoke. He was correct. She had began the morning without so much as a good morning to him which was not like her at all. The night had left her confused and still a bit shaken. Composing herself she replied to him "Good morning Arjak. I didn't mean to be brief, my apologies." She felt no need to explain herself to him and she wasn't about to admit that she was still shaken.

As they ate she answered his question. "No, my dreams do not dictate my vacations but I fear this will be no vacation for either of us." Ciara shuddered at the past nights memories but pressed on "I feel a great sense of danger. Things here in Chaclera have been amiss for some time now and I feel a darkness that is trying to consume the lands of our fathers. It appears that we have been called." Ciara ate her bread in silence before finally looking into Arjaks golden eyes. "I can not speak for you Arjak, but I feel I must answer this call."

Ciara fell silent as Arjak simply nodded and began to clear his dishes. "Thank you for a delicious breastfast... Breakfast." Ciara heard the comment but chose to ignore it. Were all Norgards of these mannerisms? She could not help but wonder to herself, this time making sure that her words were kept within her mind and not spoken out loud. Ciara smiled replying "You are welcome, Norgard." Putting her own dish in the basin she threw some necessary items in a bag and tied it shut. She didn't want to forget anything and took her sweet time doing it.

"Ahem. Shall we?"

Ciara turned ready to snap at the Norgard for his impatience but decided against it and simply said "Unless you wish us to leave here without proper provisions, I'd suggest you give me a few moments to gather the items we will be needing." Arjak stepped aside and waited what seemed to be rather impatiently to Ciara and the more impatient he became, the more time she took gathering her things.

When she was satisfied that she had everything they would need she led them out of the cottage and around back to where her horse Gwain was housed. Having prepared the white stallion for the journey she mounted him and sitting her bag in front of her she then spoke to Arjak "Unless you would prefer to walk Gwain will take us to the edge of Chanclera but we will take him no further. When we arrive there we will continue the journey onward to Ascara and Gwain will find his way home." Ciara waited for the Norgard to decide if he was walking or riding, either way mattered little to her. There would be plenty of time for walking later. For now she chose to ride. When Arjak said that he preferred to walk Ciara nodded and spurred the horse on saying only to the Norgard "I'm sure you know the way better than I. Lead the way."

Heirosyth
01-29-2010, 11:43 PM
Ivalor-Capitol City of Camelot

The old man was dressed in his finest dark violet robes, lined with bear fur around the collar, his oily black hair falling from the sides and back of his balding pate. Through his spectacles, his glinting beady eyes took in the measure of the rich Merchant Lord before him, dressed in robes of black and gold, as was his custom. Dravon's emerald gaze, piercing and glittering in the dark, met the dark irises of Boglan's deep set eyes and for a moment of silence, both men enjoyed their respective glasses of wine.

Savoring the unparalleled fine taste of Dravon's finest Chianti, Boglan smacked his lips quietly and then introduced the question that was begging to be asked:

"So what are you here to talk about, Master Shylock. You have delivered your shipment as promised and received your payment, as usual, but I am curious as to why you stay? Your business done, I would think that a man of your stature in the business of selling things would know better than to continue "selling after the close" of the deal, as they say."

"Oh I'm not here to sell anything; I've already sold it. A whole shipment, a whole crate of it, in fact!" Dravon replied with that wolfish smile of his.

"Well then, why do you linger? Surely you have other customers," Boglan noted with an air of skepticism. The corrupt high priest was not a man to be trifled with, and each moment longer that this conversation went on, he grew more suspicious of Dravon's intent.

"None half so important as yourself, Boglan. None half so important, indeed..." Master Shylock replied coolly. Boglan stopped sipping his wine and turned his face to glance sideways at the Merchant Lord, eyeing him closely. "What is that supposed to mean, merchant?"

"Well, the unfortunate death of the Council leaves you with all the power in this fair city, does it not, High Priest?" Dravon asked, raising his eyebrows and sipping on his own glass, poured from his own bottle that he had brought with him.

Boglan narrowed his eyes.

"That makes you a very important customer, Boglan. The kind of customer that can make it possible for a lowly merchant like myself to... ah... take control of the market, so to speak, yes?" Shylock sounded very enthusiastic at this point, broadening his smile to a full grin.

"Why would I do such a favor for you, Shylock? What have you done for me?"

"Why, Boglan! Have I not provided you only the finest, most delicious wine in all of Ivalor?"

"I paid for that shipment, Dravon. I owe you nothing," Boglan snapped back, his fierce glowering gaze assailing the Merchant Lord.

"Oh, but Boglan, you need me, more than you realize," Dravon replied with a cool, calm, almost reprimanding air.

"I don't need you," the corrupt priest spat, "I can get my wine elsewhere. Begone, Master Shylock, lest I choose to make good on my threat and leave you with nary a cent more from my purse!"

"I would hold your tongue, priest; does the scripture not impart to us after all that silence is golden? You should pay more heed to such words, given your needs..." Once again, the Merchant Lord was being reprehensibly arrogant, almost like a schoolmaster lecturing Boglan like some naughty child. The High Priest rankled at this kind of treatment.

"Who are you to lecture me so?! Get out, you low-born peddler! Go now before I call my guard!" By now, Boglan was crimson with furiousness, and shaking with rage as he rose to his feet.

But Dravon rose to his feet as well, and staring the old man right in his face, eye-to-beady-eye, and told him in a firm, unyielding tone to "sit down, priest." Boglan did not back down, but neither would Dravon.

The tension was so thick between the two that you could cut it with a knife. And then Shylock, sensing the taut cord of silence between them was about to break, elaborated:

"The wine you've been drinking; the wine you love so much; the wine I've been supplying you..." he explained, "... is drugged."

Boglan's mouth dropped open.

"Using a quaint little tincture I purchased some time ago, after I smelled your intentions in this gilded cage of a capitol that you've been living in, I decided to make my move..."

"You poisoned my wine? This is treason! I can have you arrested for this!" Boglan retorted, flustered with this newfound knowledge.

"Yes, you could do that," Dravon replied coolly. "Or... you could give me what I want. The poison only takes affect if you do not continue drinking it, in the wine. It's an addictive sort of drug. Without it, you will break out into a cold sweat, get shakes that are very common among alcoholics denied their drug of choice, and after three days, you will die a most horrible death, foaming at the mouth, raving about that drink you need..."

The Merchant Lord shrugged with a smile, concluding, "Everyone will think you were just a lowly drunk!"

"You're a bastard, Shylock," Boglan hissed through his teeth.

"Yes, I am, but aren't we all?"

The High Priest knew he was dealing with a man who knew how to take power any way he could; just like himself. Deep down, a small part of him admired Shylock's scheming ways.

"As long as I keep buying your wine, I'm fine?" he affirmed.

"Indeed."

"Then what is it you're after, Shylock?"

"Power. Wealth. Same as you."

"You hardly know what I'm after," Boglan replied icily.

"Nevertheless, it should be quite an easy service for you to perform," the Merchant Lord of the Scales said, seemingly unaffected by Boglan's pointed remarks. "I want every other merchant in this country, starting with Camelot, forced out, or forced into my service, under penalty of death. Every last one of them is to sign a contract and pledge his service to my organization for the duration of his business and affairs in Ivalor."

"That's asking a lot, merchant."

"I didn't say I wasn't. I just said you should be able to make it happen. Or else that next shipment of wine might be... delayed." Once again, Dravon flashed his signature wolfish smile.

Boglan muttered a curse, but then sneered. "You have no idea who you're dealing with," the High Priest said scornfully. "The one I serve will have your head, or worse, if you try to deal with him as you have dealt with me."

"Then I shall deal with your 'master' as I must. But for now, I am dealing with you. Do we have an accord, High Priest?"

"I warn you, Shylock. From this point forth, I would not rest easy if I were you..."

"I never rest easily, Boglan. That's how men die. However, if our business is in fact concluded here, then sign this contract, agreeing to my terms and I shall leave you to drink your wine in peace." Another sly smile.

Boglan grudgingly signed the document, glaring at Shylock as he did so. Snapping up the piece of parchment and rolling it up tidily, Shylock bowed and said, "Thank you. It's been a pleasure. Really, it has."

"Get out of my sight," the High Priest spat back.

"As you wish, my lord," Dravon bowed once more out of formality and with a grin upon his lips and a lightness in his step, he made his way out of the wealthy priest's estate.

The order would go out in the morning, and by nightfall, Dravon Shylock would have the Capitol City of Camelot with all of Ivalor to follow, eating right out of his hand.

Volkov
02-07-2010, 06:38 AM
Ascara- Port Town of Tamur


Figoro and Melius and Symon advanced to the Tamur port upon the two merchant’s waking. bags held heavy under Symon's eyes yet he did not stagger.

But unfortunately to both of them, they came either far too early or far too late. For most of the captain’s and crew of the ships were out and about and or drunk at this hour of the night and or early morn.

Symon however would stalk behind making sure no wary eye or gruff ambiguous tried to affront Figoro or Melius. But streets were silent aside from the human dirt combing the alleyways. Symon wasn’t paying attention to what Figoro and Melius were saying, but eventually they happened upon a bar. Symon was loosely paying attention since Melius commented rather nicer way than stated that it would be better if Symon’s rather intimidatingly retarded manner stayed out of their business.

So Symon ordered a brew and sat back with a view of the bar to keep an eye on both Figoro and Melius.
A scarred scruffy long bearded man came in and spotted the blonde haired lad when his face was illuminated by a lamp nearby as he drank mug of muddy alcohol. the scruffed stranger sat down across from Symon and he let out out a wheezed cough
“Novikov. You sonnuva….you do know…that your caretaker, is raising hell since you didn’t return?”

Symon would mumble nonchalantly in a seamless stream of silken words;
“But of course I have no recollection of why I should have returned in the first place father is ever the same mother is ever the same the bars are ever the same boring nothing ever happens and it’s too under thumb to let me have my way…nobody opens up to a Necromancer unless it’s in their best interest….”

Taking another drink of his muddy booze keen eye to Melius and Figoro. Figoro seemed to be getting somewhere with the barkeep in his conversation, either that or Figoro just had a good gamble face. Melius was having a trickier time due to the rather criminal and or ship-man looking ruffians intoxication. The auburn haired man shook his head a little of the stun of words Symon threw at him and narrowed his eyes

“Whats it this time? You haven’t been outside of Sigurd in a good long while…I never spoke a word to your caretaker about what you do, or what you’re into. I just drop you back on his doorstep when you get too far. Favor to the old codge…”

Symon stared forwards the man grunted lowly

“You’re watching them two oddballs with a bit more interest then I’d like to believe. You gonna to tell me?”

Symon took another swig of his beer then set it down with a thunk as he watched Melius start to work his charm on getting a cheaper price for the mercenaries as the Pirates appearing folks were dancing around on the tables like a bunch of loons.

Symon slouched in his chair with his hood over his face as the fast paced spew of mumbles started flowing again;

“Honestly none of your wax and I don’t intend to leave without a fight if you so do by force, by my calendar I am approximately old enough to make my own decisions about abandoning the homeland followed by going off on a grand stakes adventure, most likely by falling into the nearest pit like you and caretaker expect me to.”

“Good lad. But that doesn’t answer my questions.”
Symon lips kept moving in incoherent low gibberish as he just reached for his drink again and was grabbed around the wrist by the man next to him whom he was conversed with,

“Down to business. I wouldn’t be huntin’ much less chattin’ to your sorry derriere without a reason, your caretaker isn’t so kind and generous it seems; He knows what you’ve been up to. And was expecting to have you locked away in prison, to be executed, the moment you returned to the abode…”

He dropped his voice considerably with each word to keep it between him and Symon as he let go of Symon’s wrist, even as loosely as Symon was paying attention a slouching scowl seemed to cross the youth’s face as he took a drink of his beer.

“….Wanted posters among the deadliest that were already up in Sigurd are warranting your arrest Novikov. It’s the price that’d make a bride blush a furious red. You better have everything you need. Because you aren’t going to wantin’ to step back into Sigurd unless you got a death wish.”

Symon was irritably tapping a finger on the table top but he wasn’t looking at the man. A scowl seemed to be dead set in Symon’s face. Which proved more than unnerving to who he was speaking to, the man simply wasn’t used to anything but a lax disposition in the lad’s face, so the man continued in hushed lowtones to Symon as a Pirate was trying to get Melius to dance on the table with him.

“I’m not here to bring you in. I just want you to get a damn head start before everything crashes down above you. There aint nobody at home anymore that wants you even remotely alive. And if you’re askin’ me, Ascara’s not any better for a dainty girl like you.”

Symon’s face melded back into a bland bored expression watching Figoro from the corner of his eye before the gruff man snapped his fingers in front of Symon to temporarily regain the youth’s attention. It was hard to tell from a look if Symon was just outright ignoring the man who was speaking to him or was evidently lacking in a brain to listen to him. But Symon still remained silent so the man just leaned back and took a large swig of his mug. The blonde haired youth stared up at the ceiling then reached into his side pockets and pulled out a rather hefty looking small pouch and slid it over to the gruffly bearded man he was conversing with. He opened it and the moment the glint of gold caught his eye he furrowed his brows and looked up to Symon as the youth’s spewing mumbles began again without pause.

“I’ve no need to return yet I have need to deter make sure certian ladies don't follow me spread false information it’s what you are good at just as well that you don’t come into contact with me again or there will be severe consequences I do not mean simply toe carvings or implanting your face within a tree your son and sist-“

The man was struggling to follow Symon’s words but getting redder in the face and angrier until a nerve hit and he rounded on Symon with a firm grip bringing the youth forwards out of his chair and then his head against the wall roughly. The older man’s forearm pressed to Symon’s neck. The auburn haired man was seething with anger; Symon seemed to look off to the side ignorantly as a fly caught his eye.


Figoro and Melius had caught what was going on with their guard as if a noose had caught round their throat. But in an instant, Symon was dropped back in his seat. And the man was gone into the crowd. The money Symon set down for the man was gone as well. the Youth straightened his hood, looking back at Figoro and Melius. Nothing had changed, both of them were having a rough go at getting exactly what they needed, except things were quieting down. It would take time. Contemplation. Symon didn’t care what they were doing as much as where they were going. And what would be the end of this journey.

A new mug of muddled alcohol was put next to him. Stated to have be paid for by a gentleman who just left. Symon put his elbow on the table he was sitting near and clenched his fingertips around his forehead grinding his teeth. He was patient for Figoro and Melius. But what he heard hours prior was still bothering him, the feeling he had the moment of clearance in his mind. The migraine of his usual ineptitude of jumbled thoughts slamming back to him still hadn’t let up.

In a way he was frustrated. To have a clear mind for once in his life, and then have it snatched right from him in an instant. His head lolled heavily from side to side nursing his drink while making sure nobody accosted Figoro or Melius in violent nature

Anne Bonny
02-07-2010, 07:19 PM
Ivalor - Port of Hope

Wren was alone.

Father Augustine's portal had wisked her away to the outskirts of the Port of Hope, just as the old man had promised It had gently set her down in a deserted field, just next to a well worn road. Not far down the road sat the port town, which was already bustling with activity in the early morning light. The calming scent of saltwater danced in the air as if calling the road's travelers toward the port.

Yet for several long minutes, Wren remained in place, rooted to the field as surely as the shrubs around her. It had certainly been the last time she would see Father Augustine, Wren decided grimly. The kind old man had dedicated his life to saving others for years and years. Why would someone destroy him and the rest of the council? Bolgan, she repeated the name over and over in her mind. She had to tell someone what Bolgan had done.

She had to find Helena and tell her... Wren swallowed hard. She had to tell Helena what had happened to her mother. Her mind's eye still saw the shadowy figures advancing on the small cottage. Augustine had suggested that he may be able to rescue the old woman, but even Wren knew the folly of the statement. Augustine had used the rest of his strength in creating the portal, getting her to safely. Sacrificing himself for her to escape.

She wiped away her tears angrily. As difficult as it would be, Wren had to honor her mentor's memory. She would go to the port town and wait for Helena, just as he had instructed. And she would take full responsibility for leaving Lady Sophia behind.

The small girl moved to the road and began her walk to the Port of Hope.

Septimus
02-08-2010, 05:46 PM
Somewhere at sea
One week before story’s start

The night sky was lit in a brilliant glow, making the stars above invisible to all those who shared the island and felt the immense heat emanating from the massive fire that engulfed a large frigate ship. A little bit of oil had been all the aged, weathered wood required to ignite and now the whole of the massive vessel was consumed before the eyes of those grim men who had been responsible. Tortured wood creaked and groan, splitting beneath the pressure those above as every plank was quickly eroded by the thousands of searing tongues of flame. The crew of the Strahl stood well back, a good hundred feet or so because the heat was simply too intense to get any closer. Many had to shield their eyes for not only was the heat immense but the sheer bright brilliance of the flame was enough to blind those accustomed to the darkness. Truly it was a sobering sight as that fire climbed high into the sky, reaching for the stars as it crawled swiftly up the main mast and consumed the canvas sails and towering over the lot of them until it was sure to be visible to anyone who passed within miles of the island. If nothing else that glow would certainly be noticed and if anyone ever got curious they might come looking.

Raphael Sinclair, captain of the Strahl and commander of all those who stood watch over that blazing inferno and a pirate that was as sought by any and all men of the law as even the most famous of their trade, stood a ways apart from his men. Unlike them however he spared little attention for the blaze not so far away and instead busied himself with inspecting the blade of his finely wrought rapier within that orange glow. All at once his smooth brow furrowed, drawing subtle lines of concern as a light frown touched his handsome features. There was a nick upon his weapon. That bastard Brisbaine had actually nicked his sword. Perhaps it was unreasonable to be upset by such a happenstance as the weapon had been used in more than a few fights but he hadn’t though the fool capable of that. Now they would have to put in so he could have the blade properly cared for and repaired. Ivalor was only about a week’s worth sailing away and he doubted there would be anyone as would challenge them along the way. So few did these days that life was beginning to grow dull even with the freedom his chosen profession afforded.

Sand scraped lightly upon approaching boot steps, a subtle sound almost unheard what with the incessant crackling and popping of tortured wood. “I had thought you’d learned the danger of sneaking up behind a man without announcing your presence in this profession, Mikhail.” The young noble rogue called back behind him, never once looking up from the blade he so carefully inspected. There was only a moments pause before those steps continued. Not an obvious sign of his correct assumption but one that revealed the truth anyway. The man in question came to stand beside him a moment after, heaving out a great sigh.

Mikhail was nearly as tall as the younger man he served under, his stocky frame built for the trials of the sea and if that sun baked leathery skin was any sign he had spent many a year among those difficult times. He was older than Raphael by a decade at least and the remnants of a careworn, dangerous lifestyle could be seen within the several lines and creases of his stern face. His eyes were the grey of dense clouds and missed little as they darted about searching for any and all signs of threat. They were the kind of eyes that had seen a lot of evil, perhaps too much for there were times in which he could not sleep at night. Raphael only knew because on such nights he would sit up with him over a bottle of wine talking about their many adventures and falling off their chairs in fits of laughter. He never asked what it was that kept his first mate up those nights and it really wasn’t his business to do so anyway. But now those eyes were trained on him and the young rogue knew there was some sort of lecture coming. It was all he could do to stifle a groan for he was not in the mood for such things.

“The men are a might riled, sir.” Mikhail started, his voice a deep baritone that rumbled from deep within his throat. He had that annoying tone again, the one he got when he didn’t agree with one of his decisions. That seemed to be happening more and more of late. He would need something to soothe them soon. “We could have made a fortune had we hauled Brisbaine’s ship into port and collected on the bounty

Raphael did not look up from his weapon, his finger idly scraping along the edge as he sought to decide if he should sharpen it or wait until they made port and got it repaired. “The men have received a substantial sum from the late Brisbaine’s hold. Perhaps my perception is dimming but I fail to see how they have cause for complaint.”

“With respect, sir, we all saw the wanted posters. Brisbaine has been tormenting merchant vessels for years. His life alone was worth two thousand coins; his ship worth more than twice that amount. That’s a fair amount more than what we all found in the hold.”

“The man was a fool.” Came Raphael’s clipped reply, his sharp green gaze turning to lock with that of his first mate. “His reputation was largely exaggerated, probably from his very own lips. How even a merchant vessel could have ever fallen prey to him I can scarcely imagine.”

“Even still, lad, that money would have pleased the crew greatly. Now you’ve left Sarl another opening to spread more of his poison into their ears.”

That same piercing stare the color of fresh summer grass turned back toward the milling crew who went about setting up camp right there on the beach next to the warm fire. There was no light but for that brilliant orange glow but that was more than adequate in showing the Captain what he sought. Furthest away from them where they thought they might escape his notice a group of three men sat hunched together, whispering amongst themselves. Two had their backs to him and were nodding vigorously to whatever the third was saying. The third was much larger than they and kept glancing about as if he expected some enemy to lap at him from the shadows. Sarl was a young, vicious man who seemed to have no concept of mercy or kindness. Since allowing him to sign on with the crew of the Strahl he had been nothing but a thorn in his side and the way it was beginning to look it wouldn’t be long before his life would have to come to an end. It wouldn’t do to let him turn his own crew against him because such a thing would be hazardous to his hard earned reputation.

“Sarl will meet his end soon.” Raphael said after a moment of scrutiny over that group. His eyes returned to the blazing fire, watching as a tongue of flame licked up and around one of the railings. “The crew isn’t stupid enough to believe even a quarter of the wild stories he tells about his own feats of strength and courage. They will not line up to follow someone as thick as him.”

Mikhail heaved a sigh, dropping his gaze from the young man that had changed all their lives so completely. To think that men with such rough upbringing as such as them, men who had been cut throats and ruthless criminals before every meeting up with the bright eyed Strahl Captain could be taught the way of decent honest men. That was a loose definition of course for no matter how well you dressed a pirate they were still a pirate. Even with the teaching of honor and respect impressed upon them after time spent in Raphael’s company they could never be something they were not and a pirate was a greedy, selfish individual. That they had garnered a handsome sum from the holds of Brisbaine’s vessel did not matter much when the amount they would have received had they hauled the ship to a port in Ivalor was much more. With such decisions as this Raphael was walking a tight rope, his balance precarious at best for the elder male knew that a single misstep would see him cast into the sea for the sharks to feast upon.

“Not easily, sir, but you keep making decisions like these and you’ll learn Pirates are never more loyal to a man than they are their own coin.”

“And you, Mikhail? Where does your loyalty lie?” The question was delivered lightly in an offhand, unassuming manner and the first mate of the Strahl stiffened visibly. Raphael stood there before him easy as ever, that devastating rapier in hand while the other held the very tip, testing the give of the weapon as if he suspected it might be falling apart or something despite how well kept he ensured it remained. By all appearances the man was relaxed and cared little for whatever answer was given. A foolish man would have actually fallen for it, would have stepped right into that baited trap and answered accordingly. Mikhail knew better. He had been sailing with the man long enough to know he was walking on thin ice right now and one misstep would see him doomed.

“I’m a pirate, same as them.” He answered, squaring his shoulders and preparing to reach for his gun though he knew he would never reach it if he answered incorrectly. The thought was unnecessary however for Raphael simply smiled, sliding his weapon home into the scabbard at his hip and turning to clap the man on the shoulder. He was gone from his side then, striding with that same flowing gait back toward his ship where he would stay the night within the comfort of his cabin. Mikhail was glad his back was turned for he wouldn’t see the man heave a great sigh and lift a shaking hand to his face to comb through that short hair. He was getting too old for scares like that…


**********

Ivalor-Port of Hope
Present day

A spray of saltwater flew up before the brow of the crimson vessel so well known as the Strahl, spraying those crew members who toiled near it. The waves were not overly large this day for the sea was calm; soothing in the way it rolled and set the ship to rocking. Mikhail strode about the deck, barking orders in preparation for docking as the Port of Hope loomed nearer and nearer before them. Weapons were concealed, precautions privately taken, and so the vessel rolled smoothly into the bay and the men continued with their work with baited breath. There was always risk when making port for the distinctive ship of Captain Sinclair was far too easily recognized and much sought after. Normally a few coins in the right hands were enough to keep people’s mouths shut and Raphael was good at finding them but with Ivalor things were always most difficult. Though it was his home the Captain did not come often for the risks were substantially higher.

Boots thudded on the deck as Raphael came down from the helm, leaving the steering to another, more experienced pilot who would ably put his beloved ship to port. His mind was far too distracted to do it properly for coming to the holy city brought with it a series of problems that were scarcely easy to cope with. That ever annoying presence of morals got in the way considerably and, unlike many of the people in the other cities, people were less apt to take a bribe in order for silence. Things like conscience and faith always steered people’s minds more so than riches. Besides if one had half a brain they’d realize that the price on his head was far greater than that of the bribe he was offering. People of Ivalor weren’t stupid. They were taking quite a risk in stopping here. That said Captain Sinclair was happy to be home, excited even for if he found the opportunity he would be sure to visit his parents. It’d been simply too long since he had chanced such a visit for fear of implicating them as assistants to a horrible villain. He could handle their disagreement with his chosen trade, could even handle the note of disdain in his father’s voice when they spoke to him of it, but he could not be responsible for their own demise because people found out he had visited and they had not turned him in. Such a failure to society had grave consequences and those in charge of the law within the Port of Hope were not the most merciful people out there.

The mood on the ship was palpable as the men did the last preparations and tossed ropes to the dock workers to tie them off. Pirates were men of the sea, the saltwater as much a part of their lives as the blood that ran through their veins, but there was never one who did not look forward to a day or two on dry land where they could find fresh drink and a pair of legs to get between. As always they were given orders to keep a weather eye open and an ear to the streets. If the call came up that the Strahl was in port or one of their own was recognized they were to return to the ship immediately so they could cast off. Any who did not make it would be left behind, which was a perfect motivation for them to make haste in coming should such an event occur. They would only be in port a day, two at the most, but you never knew when things went sour and you had to pick up and take off.

Raphael strode down the plank and onto the dock, affecting an air of a relaxed sailor happy to be home. Mikhail was right behind him, though he failed at adopting such a posture which, in turn, made his captain’s less effective. Raphael was used to such things though and he quickly drew the eye of the overseer of the docks with a brilliant smile and the flash of coin. By the time he was done his first mate was already gone and waiting at the end of the dock, free of scrutiny since he who would give the first cry was already well paid to forget to do so. Greed was an ugly thing but, when found; the young pirate did enjoy exploiting it to his advantage.

“I go to the blacksmiths, my friend.” Rahael announced as he came abreast with the elder man. The crew was already gone and out of sight, the majority of them probably already spending their coin in a tavern or seeking out a harlot to purchase for a while. “You should take advantage of the opportunity, Mikhail, and relax a bit. You work hard enough without doing more when we are on a temporary vacation.”

The man rolled his shoulders, affecting a shrug of indifference. “Cities make me uncomfortable, and this one even more so. Too easy for something to go wrong.”

“Aye, that’s true, but I wouldn’t worry about it. You’re captain happens to be a very lucky man.”

“You there!” Came a shout from behind them and even before they turned they could hear the approach of a pair of armored boots thudding against the pavement of the street. They spun slowly round to meet the sight they already knew was coming for a pair of guardsmen was hurrying through the milling crowds toward them. As they drew nearer one pointed behind them to the Strahl. “Did you come in on that vessel there?”

A sandy colored brow rose slightly as the young pirate captain turned his thoughts to this new development. He had expected the vessel be recognized eventually but damned if he thought it would be within the first few minutes of their arrival. On a lighter note though he could hardly be upset over it for it meant he and the crew was doing their jobs rather well indeed. Once again he flashed that brilliant smile, his mind already turning over how to best escape the situation. Already this was turning out to be an interesting visit. Beside him Mikhail heaved a light sigh, murmuring under his breath so that only Raphael could hear.

“Lucky my ass…”

Kris
02-08-2010, 11:45 PM
Ivalor- Capital Camelot

Walking into the lands he had been forbidden to enter for so long, made him feel somewhat refreshed that he decided to fully enjoy it by entering the traditional way. As he penetrated into the city he felt trails of the holy charm that used to be so powerful before and prevent him from entering, but now it seems more of a weak static electricity that was hitting against every standing hair on his face. He smiled. That omen indicated that they were all dead, all the twelve been absorbed, their power as working unit entity cannot be used against him, or his kind for that matter, anymore. It's a shame really, that the humans' eagerness to get what they want, could bring about their own destruction. By one man's will was the barrier destroyed forever, the same shield that locked them away from powers behind their understanding.

And he was such kind of harm... And he was not the only one...

The foul atmosphere that usually wrapped him, and him alone, started to spread with every step he took, bewitching even the sky above him into an ugly image of gray. He then halted and narrowed his blue eyes as he sensed something that made him smile with glee. There was another present beside him, almost as wicked as Boglan. No, perhaps more...

But that could wait, there was a meeting to greet the new High priest of Ivalor.

***

The shackles that held tight upon his flesh caused red marks to appear on his wrists, but the old scars that had already engraved themselves and were made by the long period of time of him being held like that, already turned blue. His body and hair were soaked in water, and the wet cloths upon his body froze him from any sensation. Within the cold and dark cell he was trapped, there was finally company, at which he refused to look, knowing full well that the people around him were responsible for the corpse that lied a few inches before him. The sickening and horrible smell of death reaching his nostrils, threatening to be the last straw, before he completely goes insane.

"Why?”, he was able to utter at last. His thoughts, his rage, his hopes, all concluded into one simple small word.

A shadow landed on him, yet since he never looked up he was able to see only the edges of what stretched below his nose. “You knew from the start it might come to this, High Priest. No. I would no longer address you in that tittle. You lost that much of respect, Tik-Va”

Tik-Va, gave quick chuckle that turned into a low grunt. He didn't need to look up to know that it was Boglan who looked down at him. Tik-Va could have actually imagine the man twisting his hawk like nose with disgust from the scene as he pulled away his robes, trying not to soil himself. Tik-Va remained still in his place, knowing full well that he shouldn't take the words of Boglan so personally, yet he knew that he was guilty. It was all a foolish wish of a man that wanted to heal the world himself, and make everyone at peace, even bad souls such as Boglan's. Only now, did the high priest, Tik-Va realized that he might have been too arrogant and confident to notice that he couldn't change everyone, or maybe not even hoping for that dangerous wish.

"You are not a god, mortal”, a voice hissed.

Tik-Va, who thought he already succumbed to his condition and have seen the worst, was surprise to hear the voice he thought to never hear in his life again.

"That foolish ambition, was your downfall”.

Tik-Va Looked up from where he was, spotting for a second the dead body of high priestess Noa, and then he turned to cross gazes, almost immediately with the soulless eyes of the patron of fear himself.

"Emonalach”, Tik-Va cried out.

The handsome man's expression was unchanged, even to the sound of his name. Instead he kept looking at the despicable image of the broken man before him. Just the thought of such a weak soul keeping him away from Ivalor for so long, angered him to end, but his face never betrayed his feelings.

"Master, I beg you, leave him to me. The sight of his beloved Mistress should be more then enough to break his soul, give me the needed time to-”

Emonalach raised his hand which was followed by Boglan's immediate silence. He then moved closer to the prisoner, stepping upon the body of the woman, as if she was nothing but dirt.

"Tell me”, said Emonalach, his blue eyes forcing the chained man to look up at him,”How much do you know?”

Tik-Va, who was still shocked at Emonalach disrespect for the body, couldn't remove his eyes from the dead woman for some time, waiting for her to awaken from pain, but when he realized that no life could be confirmed within her, he was forced to look from her at the image of the youth before him. For a moment non of them spoke, none of them even dared to blink.

Diving into the blue within his eyes Tik-Va remembered the first time he met with Emonalach on the more intimate terms.

***

*Flash back*

It was around the time that prince Morgan ascended to the throne.

Most people were not bothered by the sudden death of the former Emperor, But High priest Tik-Va was never quiet with his sudden death. Since the Empire was still in good terms with Ivalor back then, the high priest arranged himself a secret travel, where he was personally greeted by Emonalach. Tik-va remembered that the first thing he felt about this man was danger. Despite the welcoming hosting, the high priest felt that he was unwanted. Aside from suspicions, the high priest had nothing to claim, so he decided to leave the following morning.

That night however, the high priest's sleep wasn't peaceful and since he was unable to sleep again, he decided to talk a walk outside, not even letting his attendants know, just for the simple fact that he wanted to be alone.

He couldn't remember how exactly, but he did ended up arriving at a temple serving for the faith of Ivalor. Balls rang loud from within, indicating the late hour, yet the priest was allured into the building, bewitching by the sound that remind him his holy land he loved so much. The Roads were almost deserted, but the few people outside made sure not to pass upon the sole trail for the temple itself. Looking back at that now, maybe the high priest might have given that some thought, but his heart was set to enter, all things around him disappearing from his sight, as he shoved one of the large golden doors aside.

As he stepped in, he found the place to be rather gloomy and he flinched the moment smell of mildew welcomed him. He covered his mouth with his robe's sleeves and looked around. The room was full of dust, the holy books were torn apart and tossed at the ground, the oak benches were broken and the candles' wax was spread on the tables and upon the tools which held them. The high priest had also picked up some trails of what appeared to be dried blood on the floor. He knelt on one leg and tried to touch and confirm rather it was truly blood or not, but the liquid has already dried out and wouldn't come off. He stood up and looked around again, his attention more focused. The room was a mess, but it looked like it was like that for some time, he even dared to think it was like this for some years.

But, if it was true, then how was it that no one notice it? More importantly, if no one was present in some years how could the balls ring?

Before he had more time to consider this his ears already picked up strange sounds which urged him to follow. He ended up facing a large book shelf , which, oddly enough, was the only thing to be intact in this room. The voices appeared to be coming from the back of it, and he placed his ear upon it just to make sure. The sounds appeared to be of whispers, hummed by the same rhythm and melody… as if… as if the source of those sounds was… pray...

Could it be that someone was praying at the other side?!

Tik-Va tried to push the shelf. He didn't know why, he just knew he had to do that. The book shelf was heavy and he questioned himself if he was actually powerful enough to move it, or even if it was possible for someone to be at the other side, but after a moment or so, there was movement at the wall at which the shelf was attached, as dust flew at him. Soon after, the shelf budged and the high priest was surprised to see a trail behind it, leading to some underground stairs. He stood still for a long moment, thinking rather he should follow or not. At the end it was the curiosity that took over him and he descended the stairs.

Every step he took to reach the bottom appeared to add some weight on him, as if the gravity was increasing, and he wondered if the stairs were bewitched or so. He thought of turning back to get a candle or something to light his path, but was surprised to know that the lower he went the more light emitted and he could see where he was going.

He halted at the last stair looking around at what appeared to be hidden underground cave. There were candles everywhere painting the foundation of it with red fire. Men in black robes were gathered beside some strange wind pillar which reached all the way for the cave's roof. This frozen in place tornado had some holy feeling to it and the 'priests' encircled it, all the while moving their hands up and down, doing some strange dance and making some strange sounds which he guessed to be the weird prayer from before. The high priest was about to turn for one of them and demand for answers for all this madness, yet halted when he was but inches away from one of them, once he spotted that man's face. Tik-Va turned white with fear and felt like he was about to vomit. That… That man had no human face… He... His face was a skull with no skin on it.

The high priest flinched back and was about to run out of the place before his back bumped into something. "I didn't thought you were that much of a fool, High Priest of Ivalor, to come to the center of the pillar of life"

"Emonalach".

The enigmatic man gave Tik-Va one deep gaze, and he felt his body slowly become frozen and not just by the overwhelming fear.

Emonalach then turned to look at the skull priests that stopped all they were doing and gathered in one great line. A dark portal opened up and they all rushed into it, disappearing in the great void which closed after them.

"What's going on?…", asked the high priest, who was surprised to learn that the ability to speak was still with him.

"Why did you come here?", asked Emonalach, ignoring his question.

The words halted in the priest's mouth. He felt his cheeks burnt red with embarrassment just thinking of the foolish reason that made him come here from the fist place… With his last powers of his soul the priest looked up at the enigmatic warlock, no good answer to give him, as he seized the emptiness within his void lifeless blue eyes.

"You try to understand me, human? That cannot be done”.

What was waiting for the poor priest now?

“Your god? You still hold that much faith in your god?”

The priest was stunned by his words, realizing the fiend could actually read his mind.

"But you doubt him, deep within you doubt that god will save you... Well, I shall be your savior then.... Shall we make a deal? I could forgive your curiosity if you would accept me"

The priest knew, without even understanding how, that once he succumbed to this evil adorned in human skin, he'd feel better. He'd be happy. Everything will go back to the way it was… Yes… Ignorance was a bliss, after all.

"Ssssay you are mine", the cold voice hissed.

His visions went blurrier by the second… Did… Did Emonalach's shape just changed? Deformed to something else, spectral, not of this world? That pitch black hole, that dark aura of this man wished to suck him in, but he couldn't completely. He needed his agreement, his permission to do what he wanted with him and in return he would be happy, he would be able to have it all…

But...

Wouldn't that make everything he believed in, even the god he cared for so much, to be nothing but a fable?

Suddenly the priest was able to move; He didn't know how he was able to overcome the enigmatic spell on him, but it didn't matter much to him now. He stood up, remembering who he was and what was right. He looked straight ahead at Emonalach who once again appeared normal… or more to say, as normal as he usually did, "You… You won't take what's important to me".

"No!", said Emonalach, "You can't deny me!". Arcs of black lightning shot everywhere and forced the priest to step back and he found himself standing inches beside the strange light mist tornado, which Emonalach referred to as the 'pillar'.

"God may abandon me, but not hope. I will see to it that you are destroyed".

Another streak of black lightning was shot directly at his left shoulder which caused Tik'va to stumble. He fell back and before he was swallowed into the mist, he felt something, a figure forming out of it which shone in the same matter of that strange pillar. It looked like a woman and she embraced him into her… Into that pillar, as she pulled him away from there.

*Flash back ends*

***

"Ever since that day, I've been studying your 'deals', and in order to fight you I've created a sanctuary here. It was possible from the power I received from the 'pillar' found within this land”, said Tik-Va.

Emonalach smirked, “You know nothing, Priest”.

"I've studied the legend. You are looking for the new 'Pandora', to seal the essence known as hope”

"As I said, You know nothing”

"Truly? Then why did you make a deal with a man who is about to lose his pregnant wife? You had some kind of wicked plan for the child!”

“Too bad that she doesn't know of that yet. And even if she did, it wouldn't help her...”, said Emonalach and turned around, “Because, as I said, all this time you spent studying me, all this while spent making the perfect sanctuary that even I had trouble entering, didn't helped you at the end, and you have gained no greater understanding. All this time and you learned nothing about me.... Or about THEM. No matter what threats you may hurl at me, I can read your heart like an open book. There is nothing that make me fear anymore. Nothing”

Now that he knew that his secret was safe, there was no need tto remain here any longer and Emonaloch turned to leave. With each step he took, his smirk grew bigger and bigger, “Good job, high priest Boglan, you may do as you like now, as promised.”

"Wait, Master... There is... another matter at hand...”

"The young healer? You're afraid words will reach more people aside from the paladin”

"Sir, I sent out the order to have her killed..."

"Send a letter to the widow of the former number seven. Tell her the 'reason' of his death”

"Yes sir”

***

“I heard you wished to speak with me...”, said Emonalach, who was now finding himself back to back with the new real town ruler, Shylock.

"Heavens, how did you enter? I never heard the door--"

"Details, Lord Dravon Shylock, Details. I could say the same thing about your man who has been following me around, ever since I entered the town. I might say that I admire the fact he has been able to keep up with me, I'm sure he had also reported everything that he has seen around me, to you”

From the shadows the young assassin drew closer, he quickly turned to stand by Shylock's side.

"I heard you wanted to speak with me, so here I am, Lord trader, but...”, said Emonalach looking directly at Cronus, his face never really telling what was on his mind about the assassin, “Are you sure you still want to be around, Mr. Audata? already what you picked up might prove as essential information to your clan. Holding unto more pieces of it, and keeping it to yourself might prove as treason, are you sure you still want to be around me and hear more?”

***

Ivalor-Port of Hope

It had been four days since Helena has set out to the port, never thinking it would take her so long to reach it. Aside from missions, she rarely left the Capital, and everything seems so foreign. Not that the feeling back home was any good, but it was still better to know familiar hatred. She never liked to step into the unknown, her heart never truly in peace for everything she felt behind. As she stood beside one of the boat's docks, trying to get herself into a ship, she was about to lose her temper at yet another sailor

"The pay has been doubled? And I need to get permission to set sail?”

"Passport, my lady, and yes”

"Since when?”

"Since master Dravon Shylock received official control over all trading business routes”

"Who?”

***

mpty handed, Helena turned to one of the nearest inns to spend the night in and better consider her options. From what she learned there were some new changes at the Capital that made it a requirement to have papers in order to leave the holy kingdom and although there was nothing she wanted to do more than go back, she couldn't afford to do so. She buried her face within her hands, no solution coming to mind.

"Helena”

A voice, familiar feminine one was calling her name. Looking up from where she set she noticed a familiar face.

"Helena is that you?”

StormWolf
02-09-2010, 05:07 AM
Chanclera- City of Lothian


Arjak remained quiet for the most part, letting his sense of smell and his connections to the wolves guide his way. He had been subject to his ability for a great many years, and never had the wolves led the large Norgard astray.

"If I sat atop a horse for so long, I would surely lose my mind. Down here, at this lower altitude, I have so much more stamina, I don't entirely know what to do with it all..." he chuckled, walking briskly beside Ciara's horse yet keeping a calm breath and easy pulse.

Time passed with an uneasy silence between the two. Arjak would have preferred a conversation with a human, finding that those he most commonly speaks with are on four legs a little disturbing. With a sigh, the Norgard noble tried striking up a conversation.

"So, milady, are you well travelled? I mean no offense, but the solitude in that cabin of yours seems greatly unbearable." Arjak shot her a smile, those yellow eyes catching the sunlight brightly.

"Though, I suppose it must be refreshing if you wish for something of the sort.... But I cannot imagine that silence... It would be unbearable." What Arjak said was true, for him at least. Being a Shaman bound to Wolves, he, like them, was a social creature. Without some kind of companionship, he would truly be a lost soul.

Mysteria
02-10-2010, 08:21 PM
Chanclera- City of Lothian

The trip to the edge of Chanclera passed by quickly for Ciara other than Arjak's constant talking. "If I sat atop a horse for so long, I would surely lose my mind. Down here, at this lower altitude, I have so much more stamina, I don't entirely know what to do with it all..."

Ciara smiled at the Norgard saying only "Gwain will return home soon. We will need to continue on our journey without him." Ciara returned to her silence. The truth was that she was trying to relish the last few moments she had in the quiet of nature before heading into the cities. The city was not a place where Ciara was comfortable. She preferred the quiet and solitude of Chanclera. The enjoyment of her last few moments of peace was shattered when Arjak again spoke.

"So, milady, are you well traveled? I mean no offense, but the solitude in that cabin of yours seems greatly unbearable." Arjak smiled as his eyes caught the sunlight. Ciara had to admit to herself that the Norgard was handsome as she relinqushed herself to the idea that she was going to have to maintain a conversation with him. She would rather have saved the conversation for when they were clear of Chanclera. "Though, I suppose it must be refreshing if you wish for something of the sort.... But I cannot imagine that silence... It would be unbearable."

"No offense is taken from your comments Arjak. My homeland was Norgard but my parents did not wish to remain there. We moved here when I was a child. In my past I have traveled." Ciara's voice trailed off for a moment as she remembered another time and place and journey she had once upon a time made. Brushing the memory quickly from her mind she continued. "I do not mind the silence and solitude. There are worse things in life to endure." Ciara looked away from the Norgard for a moment her mind still cloudy with the memory that refused to quickly leave from her mind. When she looked back to Arjak her smile was still upon her face although to a trained eye it may appear as though she had just blinked back a tear or two. "I am never alone though, Reyes keeps me company as do all of the creatures of the forests. The animals are my friend and Reyes speaks to me and keeps me informed of everything that I need or care to know of."

They had reached the borders of Chanclera by then. Dismounting the magnificent animal she removed the things she had brought with her and slung them over her shoulder. Stroking the horses neck she whispered to it softly before releasing it. Using her telepathic abilities she spoke to the raven who had been hovering overhead as she bid it to make haste and travel back with Gwain to her home. Reyes would then return to her when Gwain had reached the safety of home.

Port of Hope – Ivalor

Ciara and Arjak had traveled across the small channel of water separating Chanclera and Ivalor by ferry. The journey had been both quick and enjoyable for Ciara. She made small talk with Arjak, the wind blowing her long dark hair around her face as the ferry made it’s way to The Port of Hope. They disembarked the ferry and Ciara had taken Arjaks arm as they walked. Upon making their way into the city Ciara noticed ahead of her two seaman being approached by two guards. Ciara got a better view of the pair when they turned to greet the guards who had shouted out to them.

Both men were about the same height but the difference between the two was immediately recognizable. One was older and his skin leathery and worn obviously from many years on the seas while the other was not only younger but much more handsome with his sandy colored hair and fine features. Judging by the looks of his attire Ciara had deduced that he was higher ranking than the other seaman was and possibly even the captain of a vessel. From her position behind them she could see the young mans incredible smile flashing at the guardsmen. Perhaps they had found a possible way to make their journey to Ascara even quicker than Ciara had anticipated.

Squeezing Arjak’s arm lightly Ciara stopped and releasing her hold on Arjak she motioned briefly to the scene unfolding in front of them. Leaning in close to Arjak Ciara spoke in a low voice “If the gods have smiled upon us we may have found a means of journeying to Ascara.” Ciara’s attention returned to the events transpiring just a few feet in front of them before speaking again. “We should linger here a few minutes longer and see what comes of this.”

Heirosyth
02-10-2010, 09:57 PM
Ivalor - Capital City of Camelot

“I heard you wished to speak with me...”, said Emonalach, who was now finding himself back to back with the new real town ruler, Shylock.

"Heavens, how did you enter? I never heard the door--"

"Details, Lord Dravon Shylock, Details. I could say the same thing about your man who has been following me around, ever since I entered the town. I might say that I admire the fact he has been able to keep up with me, I'm sure he had also reported everything that he has seen around me, to you”

From the shadows the young assassin drew closer, he quickly turned to stand by Shylock's side.

"I heard you wanted to speak with me, so here I am, Lord trader, but...”, said Emonalach looking directly at Cronus, his face never really telling what was on his mind about the assassin, “Are you sure you still want to be around, Mr. Audata? Already what you picked up might prove as essential information to your clan. Holding onto more pieces of it, and keeping it to yourself might prove as treason; are you sure you still want to be around me and hear more?"

The ever-calculating Merchant Lord of the Scales rubbed his chin, which was showing some silver stubble on it; a simple laziness accounted for this bristle, but just the same, Dravon Shylock stroked it as he mulled over the circumstances of the present situation.

Boglan had not been exactly forthcoming about his "master" when Dravon had "dealings" with him previously, and Emonaloch understandably took the Merchant Lord by surprise, given his sudden and timely manifestation. Taking in the whole of this otherworldly being now, Dravon found himself face-to-face with an entity he immediately recognized as distinctly in-human. This... changed things a bit from what he had previously considered. Dealing with a mortal priest was one thing; dealing with a... presence such as Emonaloch was entirely another.

He decided to deal with the matter at hand, such as Emonaloch had expressed it.

"Cronus, I shall have need of your services later, but I think I have the 'situation' in hand here," Shylock said, training his eyes on those soulless pools of blue that stared back it his own viridian orbs unflinchingly. "You shall find your reward waiting in the Smacked Ass, a brothel on the outskirts of town. I'm sure you'd heard of it before. No less than three greasy young ladies are awaiting you there," Dravon added, shooting a sideways glance at Cronus with a knowing smirk revealing his pearly teeth in the dim candlelight.

The assassin stood for a moment, hesitating, watching Emonaloch with a steady, cold gaze but with a slight gesture from the Merchant Lord he relaxed his guard and smiled back. "Your service has been greatly appreciated, Cronus. I hope you enjoy the succulent fruit of your labors. Return to me when you've finished with them and I shall tell you what I have in mind for you in the days to come." The assassin bowed and departed in shadowy silence.

Refocusing his attention on Emonaloch as soon as Cronus was gone, Dravon resumed the conversation, habitually reaching for a bottle of wine, a Chianti this time, and poured a glass for both himself and his guest, smiling as he did so. Holding up his own crystal chalice in his hand before Emonaloch, he proposed a toast to the new partnership: "To power, possession, and profits, yes?" The Merchant Lord flashed his trademark glimmering wolfish grin.

Emonaloch simply nodded in silence and clinked his crystal chalice with Dravon's, sipping from the wine. "Your special 'brew' will not affect me, trader."

Shylock raised his eyebrows and let out a light-hearted chuckle, "Don't worry, Emonaloch, I wouldn't be drinking from one of my own special bottles. There is nothing but fine wine in your glass--you have my word."

"Then what is it you wish to discuss, Mr. Shylock? Your dalliance is not convenient, and we are both 'men', I trust, who know the value of time."

"Indeed, indeed," Dravon replied, nodding his head and pacing. The goblin Dreeg sniffled in his customary dark corner, wiping his long thin, crooked nose on his arm, preoccupied with its latest offerings, obviously. Draven watched this and allowed a slight smirk to cross his lips.

"You see, we both have goals that can serve one another..." the Merchant Lord began.

"Oh? I hadn't realized you were even necessary to my plans, trader," Emonaloch countered. "What could a stuffed bag of coins like yourself have to offer a 'man' like me? I have no need for your deals; your contracts."

Shylock raised his finger with his back to Emonaloch, waving it back and forth, "No, I think you do, sir..." He smiled and turned to face his newest customer, "I think you do."

Emonaloch just regarded the merchant in silence, his foul aura of dread and darkness slowly consuming the tent. But Dravon Shylock stood seemingly unaffected by this.

"It's true; you could wage your little war without me, doing your little deals and accumulating your little possessions," Shylock admitted to his shadowy guest, "But already you have those outside your grasp who will seek your downfall, no doubt. Already word is spreading of these events. How long do you think it will be before the forces aligned against you gather their strength to make your stay here a very brief one, hm?"

Emonaloch snorted and crossed his arms.

"How long do you think your dark powers will hold out against armies that shine with the holy righteousness of just cause and self-preservation?" Shylock leveled his own powerful gaze at those eyes of Emonaloch.

Then the Merchant Lord shrugged. "I am but a servant of the people, and am happy to increase my wealth whenever possible, serving the highest bidder." The two men stood in the candlelight, regarding each other in silent contemplation.

"I could have you right now, whether you wished it or not," Emonaloch hissed.

"True! I am well aware of that," Shylock chimed in, "But, you would lack my mind, enslaved as it was under your dread command. You see, mindless soldiers only go so far, and mindless merchants..." Dravon smirked again, "Well, they're practically worthless."

Emonaloch realized he faced a creature as cunning as himself in Shylock. The Merchant Lord, for all of his lack of magical ability and combat skill, had thrived in the world by way of more subtle arts, mastering the practice of negotiation and deal-making. Ironically enough, he was perhaps better and more practiced at it than Emonaloch himself!

"What do you propose, trader..." Emonaloch questioned again, losing his patience with this merchant.

"I have in my employ a great many useful helpers," Shylock explained with that winning smile, "such as Dreeg over there!" He pointed to his goblin servant who was engaged in picking his nose and sampling its contents. The goblin who promptly stopped in mid-pick and looked up with a curious noise. Sensing the sudden chill in the room, Shylock knew that Emonaloch lacked a sense of humor, and the Merchant Lord continued his explanation quickly: "And of course my lethal friend who is enjoying the pleasure of the ladies over at the Smacked Ass as we speak, among many others."

"What I propose, Emonaloch," Dravon remarked with another raise of his glass, "is that you grant me the support of your dark powers, in exchange for my promise to weaken your potential enemies through a nice... quiet war of..." And at this Shylock paused and raised his finger, "... attrition."

"When they go to array their forces against you, they may find their harvest... a bit lacking."

"I have already considered this, and have my own forces arrayed, Merchant," Emonaloch sneered. "More than you can imagine."

"I think not," Dravon replied quickly, wagging his finger again while holding his glass. "I know of Morgan and Esgares."

"So?"

"I have an idea what you're planning. War is an expensive proposition, Emonaloch. You'll need to have the wealthiest man in the world on your side. Otherwise, I can just as easily make certain that I benefit off the needs of others..."

"You would die before the ink dried on your first contract, trader."

"And you will lose your war if I do, demon."

"How dare you threaten me, mortal!" It was as if all the remaining light and goodness of the tent was sucked into the menacing void of darkness that emanated from Emonaloch's form, gripping Shylock in its icy clutches all the way to the core of his being. The Merchant Lord shivered, but continued, knowing he was getting to his guest.

"I will demonstrate the reach of my influence, if you make a pact with me, Emonaloch."

"Worm. I should kill you now for spite."

"That's the difference between you and me; I never do anything for free."

"What would you have..."

"First, my soul and will are my own. While you may purchase my services and by so doing maintain your freedom to propagate your evil here in the land of holiness, I hardly wish to simply become one of your hosts when all of this is said and done."

"And?" Emonaloch narrowed his eyes and tilted his head towards the merchant, giving Shylock no sense of security about the integrity of his agreement.

"I own the rights to each contingent and task I have completed for you... what I do with the fruits of my labors is up to me," Dravon replied, "Put simply: if I do something for you in Ascara, you let me handle it and stay out of my affairs. If I take care of our little assassin's 'conflict of interest', you let me handle it. I need no more intervention from you than I ask for."

"I will not simply be at your beck and call, trader."

"No! Indeed. You have much on your plate. Together, I believe we can accomplish more than alone," Shylock reasoned. "That's what I'm after: a partnership--nothing more, nothing less. My services are yours, as yours will be to me."

"Then I propose you deal with Ascara as your first order of business..." Emonaloch said through clenched teeth.

"Then I will consider that to be acceptance of terms, Emonaloch."

"Indeed, Dravon Shylock. Indeed."

"Splendid doing business with--" but before Dravon could finish, Emonaloch was gone. "... you." Dravon narrowed his eyes; he would need a couple of aces under the table in his dealings with the fiend.

************************************************** *******

The Merchant Lord had summoned Cronus back to him after the assassin had gorged himself on the sweet flesh of the brothel's three appointed young whores.

When the assassin arrived, Dravon greeted him with his usual smile and calculating gaze, before gesturing to a rich new set of clothes for the assassin.

"I had these tailor-made for you as a gift," the Merchant Lord said, sipping his wine. Before Cronus was a rich black cloak, made of the finest silk and wool blend, lined with satin. Beneath it was a finely wrought leather tunic, made of a rare basilisk skin, prized for its ability to provide a measure of camouflage in various settings due to its chameleonic qualities.

"These should help you perform your duties to me in days to come," Dravon remarked.

"Not if you just need a messenger boy to follow people," Cronus quipped.

"Oh we're always about sending messages, Master Audata. The manner of the coming ones should be more to your liking, however..."

"Killing?"

"Indeed."

Cronus couldn't help but smile at that.

"I trust the girls were to your liking as well?" Dravon smirked. "Emonaloch mentioned your clan. To be clear, we must ensure that we do not face opposition from your own kind."

Shylock sat down and poured another glass of wine, "I think it is time for a change in leadership. Just as we've taken care of this 'holy' country, I would like you to take care of your clan." Raising his glass with that wolfish smile upon his lips, he said, "I believe it is time to usher in a new 'age' for the assassins of Chanclera..."

"... one in which you--and by proxy--I, lead them through a veritable 'Golden Age' of prosperity and... evolution. The feathers are... after all... a bit unnecessary, don't you agree?"

The assassin smirked with the Merchant Lord, and both chuckled at that point.

"But first there must be a culling... a shedding of the old skin, to make way for the new." And once again, Dravon waved his arm over to the custom fashioned outfit for Cronus. "Thus the new skin for you, so that you may serve as a model for your brethren, who will naturally look to their new leader for... guidance."

"Are you ready to accept this mission? I trust you are..." Shylock intoned, tilting his head towards Cronus, leveling his emerald gaze at him. "If so, you leave in the morning, at daybreak. Afterwards, you will meet up with merchants of mine in Ascara..."

The Merchant Lord sipped his wine. "There are... matters... there that need dealing with."

Anne Bonny
02-10-2010, 11:02 PM
"Really, don't you have anything better to do?" asked a large, bearded inn keeper.

Blushing furiously, Wren shook her head and made her way to the door without another word. She had been asking about Helena at every inn in the Port of Hope, several times a day. But so far her efforts had no only come up fruitless, but she was starting to annoy the inn keepers with her frequent questions.

Wren's time at the Port of Hope had been less than a pleasant vacation. Nights were filled with fitful sleep and days with searching for the paladin. In between her inquiries, the girl had browsed the markets and done her best to enjoy the ocean scenery, but the knot in her stomach was growing larger by the day. She would check with one last inn, Wren decided, before trying to get some rest.

But as she approached the building, Wren caught sight of familiar red hair. "Helena?" she cried out to the woman. "Helena, is that you?"

The figure in question turned and great relief washed over the healer. But relief turned into worry again as the paladin's confused gaze settled on her, and Wren realized the time had come to explain herself at last. "I... I need to talk to you," she said meekly.

The two women settled into a dark corner of a nearby tavern. It was the closest place that might offer some privacy, although Wren didn't drink, and she suspected that a holy paladin didn't either. Deciding it was better to skip any small talk about Helena's travels, Wren began.

"Father Augustine sent me here," she started, her voice shaking with nervous emotion. "Something has happened in Camelot. Something terrible I think.

"In the middle of the night he broke into your mother's house, waking me up. He was covered in blood, and he was completely frantic." She paused, shuddering inwardly at the memory of her mentor. "Augustine dragged me out of the house. He said someone named Boglan had killed everyone in the consulate. Augustine was the only survivor.

"He made a portal to send me here, and said it was dire that I find you and tell you."

Wren paused, and Helena took a moment to ponder her words. "And... if you're here then... what of my mother?" she finally asked.

Despite her resolution to be strong, tears flooded Wren's eyes. "I wanted to stay with her, Helena, I tried to stay. But he pulled me away. And as we were leaving..." The girl tried to recall her memories, to make sense of what she had seen. "Boglan must have known Augustine had escaped, and also must have known of his connection to me and your mother. When we left, I saw dark figures creeping up to her house."

Wren reached across the table to cover Helena's hand with her own. "Augustine said he would try to save her after he sent me off. But he was so weak, I don't know what he could have done. I'm so sorry, Helena. I promised to care for her and I failed."

Stream
02-16-2010, 03:52 AM
Ivalor - Port of Hope

"I think it is time for a change in leadership. Just as we've taken care of this 'holy' country, I would like you to take care of your clan." Raising his glass with that wolfish smile upon his lips, he said, "I believe it is time to usher in a new 'age' for the assassins of Chanclera..."

"... one in which you--and by proxy--I, lead them through a veritable 'Golden Age' of prosperity and... evolution. The feathers are... after all... a bit unnecessary, don't you agree?"

Cronus couldn't help but have the perverted sense of delight overcome him as Dravon spoke. He was damn good at what he did; everything he said appealed to the assassin in too many ways. Money. Women. And now power. Power over the clan that had for so long restricted him and bound him to their ludicrous code of honor. Their senseless choices in that very code, though, would be their demise.

"But first there must be a culling… a shedding of the old skin, to make way for the new." And once again, Dravon waved his arm over to the custom fashioned outfit for Cronus. "Thus the new skin for you, so that you may serve as a model for your brethren, who will naturally look to their new leader for... guidance."

"Are you ready to accept this mission? I trust you are..." Shylock intoned, tilting his head towards Cronus, leveling his emerald gaze at him. "If so, you leave in the morning, at daybreak. Afterwards, you will meet up with merchants of mine in Ascara..."

Before the merchant could finish, Cronus began to speak.

"The moral code of my clan is a pain in your side, isn't it? A thorn in your paw that needs… removing." he moved swiftly over to his folded new clothing, removing the sash and cape of the ridiculous outfit that bore resemblance to the same audacity of his elders.

"Why travel all the way to the Kingdom of the Forest to amputate the foot…" he slipped off his leather tunic and wrapped the fine basilisk scale vestment over his silk shirt. "when we can just take care of our little thorn right there in Ascara?"

The merchant lord's expression did not change. As any good trader would know, you mustn't ever give the person you're bartering with any indication of acceptance as to milk them like the fools they are. Dravon sipped quietly on his glass of wine, nodding to Cronus as the assassin admired how well his silk robes had fit him.

"Continue."

Immediately the assassin whipped around with a ghoulishly sadistic expression, sheating his sword into the loop of his robe.

"There's a certain part of the code of the Lunar Fang that allows our leadership to stay… fresh." he said, the sadistic joy he was getting from just thinking about it emanating from he. Wrapping his fingers around the side of the table Dravon sat at, he loomed closer to his new Master as if he were about to tell him the meaning of life itself.

Slowly Cronus calmed himself, his head lowering and his just shrinking. His elbows buckled for a moment, before finally he spoke in an almost whisper.

"We can kill. Kill all of them. Every. Single. One of them. Easily. Right in Ascara." he said, not helping but finally notice an expression of intrigue on the trader's face.

"And how exactly do you plan to do this, child? It seems a bit far-fetched that you'd be able to arrange such a delightful gift for me. Explain yourself, child." he said, his tone of voice piercing. A command from Dravon was as if the word of God had overtaken you.

"Gladly Maestro…" Cronus whispered, drawing away from Dravon. He began to explain his plan in a normal tone.

"I am in a perfect position here; the position in which, I have information regarding Emonolach, which my clan wants…" Cronus said, savoring the moment of anticipation. "and here I have you, my new master, who needs this information kept to himself. My elders will track me down for eternity until I am killed for withholding such information. And indeed, my kind are tactful and resourceful. We can't hide from them forever. They will succeed."

Dravon seemed annoyed at the unneeded explanation. The master of charisma was able to keep his tongue calm, but silver.

"Explain to me, now, how you plan to do this." His words chilled Cronus' blood. His once fiendish and perverted pleasure had escaped him.

"I apologize, Maestro. Our clan has a rule, as I said, to keep our leadership fresh and diverse. That rule is, if someone like me, in a position of interest, were to challenge my elders to a duel…" he stopped and breathed deeply through his nose, the joy once more overtaking him. "they will accept. They will come to Ascara. And I will kill them."

The Merchant Lord stood, drifting towards Cronus, placing a cold hand on his shoulder.

"Excellent. I will be joining you on our journey to Ascara. Be prepared, Master Audata."

Cronus slid his dagger next to his blade, rubbing his fingers on the handle menacingly in anticipation. Dravon pushed the assassin by his shoulder out of the tent, leading him towards the docks.

"I've waited so long for this day. So very long to show my elders how foolish their ways have been." Cronus could almost taste the desire to spill the blood of his patriarchs.

"The anticipation is… palpable."

Septimus
02-18-2010, 10:02 PM
From the moment they had made port Raphael had expected they would be discovered eventually. He just hadn’t expected them to recognize the vessel so soon. They were just barely off the docks and already they were being accosted by the ever watchful guards who, by the look of them, had an eye for the half a fortune in bounty money they would receive with his capture. Beside him Mikhail was tense with their approach, ever the brute as his hand slowly crept to the handle of his sword. Already an idea had sparked within the young Captain’s mind though and he cleared his throat lightly, drawing the man’s attention to him even as he stepped up with that bright smile.

“Yes, my good sirs, we certainly did.” He announced in a cheery voice that made it clear he was glad to see them, which was the opposite of what they had been expecting. He seized each guardsman’s hand in turn, giving it a vigorous shake. “I am Timothy Perrwinkle, a humble merchant from Aerosia. Pray, tell me honorable guards, might you be able to direct to whoever is in charge of rewarding bounties?”

Such was the change in his commander and friends voice that Mikhail, even knowing the man’s wily tricks, blinked in surprise and had to glance at the man to ensure he was still actually there. Raphael had dropped the accent of his homeland, talking instead in a manner that was more authentic to the region he claimed to be. There was a southern slur to his worlds, an accent that spoke of a man who had not been in Ivalor long. The dreaded pirate Sinclair was known to have come from Ivalor itself so that accent would surely throw the guards off. Even more he had adopted a different stance, one lacking in the confidence he normally held so easily. Instead his feet shuffled nervously and hi shoulders were slightly slouched, hands wringing as if he had recently experienced something highly nerve wracking. Only his fancy clothes seemed out of place and yet that was already covered by his mention of being a merchant. They often indulged themselves in such things.

A light sprinkling of travelers and city dwellers had stopped around this exchange, watching from a distance as if sensing that something important was about to occur. It provided a crowd for the skilled performer and yet he gave no sign of his own enjoyment of the game. His eyes were all that revealed him as the pirate captain, shining with disguised mirth and a supreme intelligence his act sought to belie. This was the kind f thing he thrived in, the live performance in which his clever wit had to race to keep ahead of the curve and provide a believable story so as to avoid capture and inevitable execution. The guards were caught in his artfully woven web, blinking in surprise as they traded a look.

“What business have you with the Magistrate?” One of them questioned. They were still tense and wary, their hands on their blades while eyes danced around to look for possible threats.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Raphael answered in a loud voice, looking around at the growing crowd, a look of triumph on his face as he raised a finger high into the air. “We wish to report the death of that loathsome devil Raphael Sinclair!”

There was an audible gasp all around, a mixture of open mouths and those covered by a hand. All present had gone wide eyed tough, surprise making their expressions somewhat comical until it was an effort to keep himself from bursting out with laughter and ruining the act. Even the guards seemed as if their eyes were about to pop out of their heads, their wary posture dropping away as all thoughts turned to this new turn of events. Mikhail did his best to try and become invisible, uncomfortable under all of the eyes that were suddenly watching him and the captain.

“H-Have you… proof of this?” The second guard stammered, finally regaining some semblance of composure though he still looked completely dumbfounded.

Now the ‘merchant’ adopted a wounded expression, disappointment creasing his brow. “Alas, no. What with all the excitement we hadn’t thought about it until the corpse was already disposed of. My vessel was nearly sunk you see and so we gathered up the bodies and set it ablaze, taking Raphael’s famed vessel instead.”

Again those two traded a look, as if telepathically communicating through their eyes alone. They proved that idea to be just as impossible as it sounded though as they leaned toward one another, speaking in a low tone as if imparting secrets to one another. In the shocked silence of the dock though Raphael could hear them easily as the one reminded the other that there have been numerous reports of a great fire at sea about a week or so ago. The young pirate traded a glance with his first mate, a private little smile on his face. He had them now and they both knew it, though the very idea of what he was attempting was so very absurd it was almost guaranteed to work. After all… what wanted criminal ever had the nerve to claim his own bounty? It was unheard of and that would be the main reason for its success.

They were ordered to follow the pair of guards then, falling into step a few feet behind them as the crowd parted o let them through. Mikhail remained the ever silent companion, trying not to look too tense and on edge for fear of spoiling his captains act. He was not much for these games and in truth they were so nerve wracking he could hardly find the enjoyment in them that the man beside him did. Raphael was a carefree sort, the kind who never allowed himself to feel even the slightest concern over a situation no matter how dangerous. He supposed that was all fine and dandy for him since he worried plenty for the both of them. The captain always teased that he would grow grey with all the stress he pulled onto himself. It had given the lad a great deal of amusement when grey actually did start showing in his dark hair. The insufferable brat hadn’t let him hear the end of it for two weeks. He still called him grandpa from time to time simply because he knew it bothered him.

They reached the offices of the guard, presumably where the Magistrate awaited in his office. They entered into what looked like a small foyer or reception hall where those who had come for a visit with the man would wait. It was sparsely decorated with a painting or two on the walls and a few potted plants in the corners. On either side of the room were long benches, which would be where they sat while they waited. Next to the door leading into the important officials office was a young boy seated stiffly on a simple wooden chair. As they entered though he jumped to his feet, asking their names and business that he might report their presence. Those dull brown eyes widened just as all those at the docks had when the guards announced the slayers of Raphael Sinclair had come to collect the bounty. They were then announced and the wait before they were ushered in was not overly long.

Standing before the magistrate now, who remained seated at his desk as he regarded the pair who had come before him. The guards stood on either side of the pair of pirates, quietly trying to be just as invisible as Mikhail under that careful scrutiny. The man was not a foolish one, Raphael knew, for his little schemes and traps had nearly captured him a number of times. Luckily though they never had and his face remained largely unrecognized by those who would seek to capture him. The man soon announced his suspicions though as it seemed unlikely that so harmless looking a merchant could have bested the famed pirate. ‘Timothy Perriwinkle’ simply burst into a nervous fit of thread laughter, explaining that it was not he who killed the pirate but the man who stood beside him, whom he introduced as Bartholomew.

“I myself have no knowledge of fighting, you see, sir. That’s why I hire a bit of muscle and good that I did too else I’d be lost.”

That answer seemed to satisfy the Magistrate a little more. Mikhail was silent and stiff beside the little merchant, holding the kind of look one might expect of a seasoned fighter. When he was congratulated on his victory he glanced around a little warily, clearly uncomfortable in the presence of so high ranking an official, and gave a simple thank you. Raphael couldn’t help but smile and that was all well and good for everyone in the room was. With the pirate apparently dead there was a good deal for the officials of the city to smile about. No doubt the merchants would be overjoyed by the news as well, which would make them all the more livid when they realized he was not only still around but had taken their money offered for his death. First though they had to actually escape this office. Doing that would depend on his abilities to tell a believable story about the encounter.

It was an elaborate tale he delivered when the Magistrate finally asked after the story of how it all came to pass. For it Raphael wove a desperate tale of open sea battle, drawing facts and points from the battle they had had with Brisbaine to supply some of the finer details. His ship had been badly damaged by the faster Strahl and would not have been able to take much more punishment before sinking all together. That was when they went for a nearby island and luck seemed to favor their sails for they managed to make it in time. The battle was taken to land then, which was where Raphael and his crew were finally overwhelmed. Bartholomew was proclaimed the hero of the day, facing the skilled pirate swordsman in open combat and besting him after a long and brutal fight. Then, to conclude the tail, the corpses of the pirates were gathered up and the badly damaged ship was set ablaze for it would never make it to port. They then boarded the Strahl and made their way straight here to Ivalor to report on the man’s death and collect the bounty. It was an enthralling tale, delivered artfully with a subtle flair of drama to draw even the suspicious Magistrate under his spell. Lies were woven in with truths to make it all more believable until finally, it was concluded and the guards were so taken by the story they slapped Mikhail on the back with congratulations.

Even the official had lost some of his edge as he smiled and laughed with the men, writing out a receipt for to bounty and offering them a pair of heavy bags filled with gold. Normally they would not have been given the amount offered for the man himself as there was no proof of it but their story matched with various reports of a great fire and Raphael had adopted that unassuming manner of a man easily trusted. It was amazing how little a disguise one needed to truly trick people. The price offered for the ship was halved since they declared they wanted to keep it, a trophy of sorts. But even with that deducted they were walking away with upwards of ten thousand gold coins, a hundred of which they offered to each guard and the Magistrate himself in thanks or their service. Raphael even gave the boy outside the door a handful as he left, telling him to use it to help his family out a bit.

**********

About an hour after they were stopped by those guards and taken to see the Magistrate himself the tavern burst with loud, raucous laughter. Raphael and Mikhail had rejoined the crew where they sat spending their hard earned coin on liquor. Men were falling off their chairs as the seemingly impossible tale was told, laughing until their bellies hurt and they could scarcely hold to their mugs, having to place them upon the table instead. The wealth of gold was distributed of course, shared among the men as Raphael had no need for greed as he was already wealthy. It was more even than they would have received for Brisbaine and so that little slight disappeared from their minds completely as they offered thanks and cheered their fearless leader. Even Mikhail seemed taken up with high spirits, laughing with the men as he told them of the story of Timothy Perriwinkle and Bartholomew. The young ‘merchant’ bought a round for the entire bar, an act that got many a cheer from men who did not even know him as they came to join in the high spirits and thank him for his generosity. Such was the energy in the tavern that one might not expect that it was still rather early in the day, with noon just passed.

Outside the tale was already spreading among the people of the city. Raphael Sinclair was dead, the famed Strahl belonging now to a merchant who would soon be departing the city. One Timothy Perriwinkle and his warrior companion Bartholomew, slayer of Raphael Sinclair. Though their names were odd and even slightly comical they would go down in the history books, the heroes of merchants for they had ended the life of the man who plagued them so greatly. At least… that’s what everyone would be allowed to believe for a while. For their part the two who had been responsible for so wild a story sat side by side, the inseparable pair as usual.

“It’s like I’ve always said, Mikhail.” Raphael was saying, taking a sip of his wine before continuing. “Luck is two parts chance and one part opportunity. If you know how to exploit the opportunity ot your own advantage you can make luck for yourself.”

“Still,” Mikhail answered with a chuckle, laughing for what seemed the first time in quite a while. “Perriwinkle? Where in the blazes did you come up with that?”

“I don’t question my own mind, my friend. I simply enjoy the perks.”

And in truth they were doing just that for they had gained a small fortune in coin with their latest adventure. The men were happy and the drink was flowing freely. There was much to enjoy this day.

Mysteria
02-21-2010, 01:41 AM
Port of Hope-City of Ivalor


Ciara listened from her position on the dock as the handsome young man told his grand tale to the two guardsmen before disappearing with them but not before making a mental note of his name. Timothy Perriwinkle. She would have no problem remembering such a name.

Ciara and Ajrkak walked around the port town for a good while taking in the sights of the city until Ciara declared that she was hungry. Returning her attentions to the Norgard Ciara spoke once more "Our journey has left me both thirsted and hungry. Perhaps we can find someplace in town here to sate those needs? Some place where sailors maydesire to be after having been out on the high seas for awhile." Ciara went on to explain that in doing so she hoped to make contact with someone who might be able to provide them with passage to Ascara.

As they wandered through the streets of Ivalor in search of such a place Ciara couldn’t help but notice a tavern sign directly ahead of them. Moving into the tavern the pair entered and seated themselves in the rather crowded room. Their meals had been ordered along with drink and Ciara was surprised when an extra round was brought to their table. With a puzzled look to the tavern maid the woman explained before Ciara could even ask the question. "Compliments of the gentleman over there, He just bought the house a round."

Looking in the direction that the tavern maid had pointed to, Ciara found herself once again gazing upon the face of one Timothy Perrwinkle. Leaning towards Arjak Ciara said in a low voice "That is the same gentleman we saw on the docks earlier, the merchant who was talking to the guardsmen. I'm going to go thank him for our drinks and find out what I can about his ship and if he is heading towards Ascara."

Despite Arjak’s look of disapproval Ciara continued with her plans. She had never been the type to allow anyone else to dictate what she did and did not do and despite the fact that he was merely concerned for her moving about within the tavern without him, she wasn’t about to let that stop her. There was little that could prevent Ciara from doing something when her mind was set upon it and Ciara would have assumed that the Norgard should have learned that lesson by now.

Ciara arose from her seat smoothing her dress out and with the natural grace that she had been born with moved in the direction of the young man. At first she hesitated not wanting to interrupt his seemingly merry moment but her own cause was pressing thus urging her to not deter from her mission. The balance of nature had been upset and Ciara couldn’t help but feel a dark presence lingering within the kingdoms. Her dream had been too strong. She must reach Ascara.

Approaching directly in front of where he was seated Ciara spoke softly "Please pardon my intrusion sir" she said smiling pleasantly her olive eyes sparkling brightly as she spoke "but I wanted to thank you for the drink. I saw you earlier today on the docks as my traveling companion and I had just disembarked from the boat we had journeyed here upon. I couldn't help but overhearing when you said that you were a merchant. My name is Ciara Anstruther" she said extending her hand in a formal greeting "I was wondering if I could possibly have a word with you?"

StormWolf
02-22-2010, 04:11 AM
Arjak would have usually been joyous to be in a good tavern with buxom maids and cheap, strong drink, but he wasn't this time. Why he wasn't was beyond him. Maybe it was because of the company he was keeping. That and the tavern just smelled... wrong. Whether it was the patrons of the building itself, he didn't like it, being here made his hackles rise.

He pulled out a chair for Ciara and himself at an empty table, ordering a hearty ale for himself and a mug of spiced wine for Ciara. Wine was a finer drink. Of course she would like wine. Arjak's sisters loved whine, every girl and woman probably did.

When Ciara pointed out the man they had been trailing, his hand unconsciously stroked the hilt of his heavy bladed seax, expecting to go and talk to the man the Norgard way. When Ciara stood and sauntered off, Arjak tried to voice his disapproval, but she was more stubborn than any mule. When people started to walk inbetween the path that would allow Arjak to come to Ciara's aid in a heartbeat, his eyes seemed to glow brighter. His body was tense, ready to Dance the Spears at any moment.

"This is bloody daft..." he muttered into his mug of ale before he downed the frothy drink. It was strong, bitter, and cheap. Nowhere near the quality of ale and mead served in the mead halls in Norgard, but he had to make due with what he had. His ale horn only held so much.

Arjak just stood at the ready, if anyone made a move on Ciara, they would find one of his spears through their chest.

Lacey
02-23-2010, 01:23 AM
Ascara- Port Town of Tamur


Kilyna rubbed her temples as she walked back to the inn. Looking up, she glared at Nesera, hoping he knew that she was furious with him. She’d forgotten how much she relied on her crew to do things, like track, for her. There had been no sign of the woman she’d encountered. Which mean she’d have to start talking to people to find out where she might have gone. At the moment, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to speak to someone without threatening information out of them. “I blame you,” she told the falcon gliding above her.

Without a word to anybody on the lower level, she climbed the stairs to the small room she’d gotten for herself. Almost immediately, she was head-butted by the two cats that lived there. “Serai, Terri, get down. You should know that I’m not in the mood.” Just as cats seem to do, they ignored her. With a sigh, she scratched their ears, hoping to satisfy them. There was no such luck. Kilyna heard a breif flutter of wings and Nesera flew through the open window. “All of you are lucky I love you or you just might be sold off to somebody.” She grumbled, sitting on her bed. Serai head-butted her shin.

“It’s your own fault for being born a jaguar and not a house cat, or else you wouldn’t be so cooped up.” Kilyna let her head fall into her hands, hair cascading around them like a veil. The one lead she had, she’d lost. The one chance to find her crew, her ship was gone. What she’d heard was interesting, in fact, far more than interesting, but she cared not for princesses.

Terri pawed at her, his claws carefully sheathed and Kilyna groaned. There would be no talking sense into them. For two days, they’d been locked in the room—only to be let out when they needed to relieve themselves. If she didn’t let them out now, there would be no dealing with them. With another loud groan, she searched the room for the two collars and leashes she kept. If they wanted to get away, there was no way the thin leather would actually restrain them, but it looked nice enough to still the panic that seemed to instill people with dangerous animals were on the loose.

Both cats gave her a look and she gave it right back to them, “You’ve already irritated me enough, no whining like a child. Until people start gaining sense and stop mindlessly fearing you, then you get the leashes. Oh, don’t give me that look either. Of course I know you’re dangerous. It’s just that you’re far too lazy to actually try to eat humans. You don’t even like the taste of us.”

A few moments later, Kilyna let her friends lead her down the stairs. There was a stir and a few gasps but she waved off their fears, “Relax, friends, under my hand they are as harmless as flies. More harmless if you count the huge insects that seem to plague the area.” She smiled and left. Once outside, an idea hit her. Serai and Terri can definitely get information for me, but just being by my side. It occurred to her that the thought should have come much earlier, but she also realized that she hasn’t been herself lately. Panic does that to a person.

“Where to start…” Kilyna muttered under her breath, walked with both leashes in hand. They were slack as both jaguars walked calmly beside her, ears twitching at the slightest sounds.

Kris
03-02-2010, 05:14 PM
Ivalor-Port of Hope

Helena removed her gaze from Wren the moment the last finished her tale. Helena then leaned back against her wooden chair, digging her chin between her palms as her hands were brought closer to her body, yet still were above the table. After a long moment she finally threw a glance back at the young healer, who, so it appeared, hesitated on rather to ask for what was on the Paladin mind or not. Helena, who was hardly in the mood for a small talk, or even for words of comfort decided to get right to the point as she sat straight again, her present showing confident and might, as if she was not bothered by anything.

"I find this news to be disturbing and yet I am lost as for what to do next".

Helena felt like she was about to hit someone, yet in front of the young lady, who felt so ashamed and guilty in returning alive while her mother's condition was unknown, Helena couldn't have showed any weakness. Helena truly liked the girl, and despite the fact she was furious with her, for not fully protecting her mother, she knew that it was not her fault and that her reasons were understandable.

Yet what the mind knew, the heart refused to accept, "Lady Avari", said Helena as she got up from her place, "If you would excuse me".
Helena headed outside and Wren followed, "Helena!", she called after her.

Please grant me the time to be on my own"

"I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry", said Wren, fighting hard not to burst in tears.

"Foolishness does not suit you, Lady Avari. I've heard your story and I have need of time to think. I'm not mad at you".

Once Wren calm down Helena continued talking, "If it was possible, I'd wish to head back and show Boglan my opinion on his act, but since both you and me are knowledgeable at the art of Ivalor's might, such thing is not possible"

Wren considered Helena's words, "You think he would create a barrier around the town?"

"The god hand clan is known for having powerful holy spell casters. Not considering this as his first act would be foolish"

"So you don't plan to head back?"

"No, I have a mission to carry out"

"You still plan to do as Boglan told you?"

Helena sighed, "No, I plan to follow number 7, High priest Augustine's task. I'll consider this the same as following his last will"

Wren was about to protest, but hushed almost at once. Helena's words were cold, but even Wren couldn't deny the fact that she herself thought that Father Augustine was not among the living. Both girls looked at each other for a long moment, before Helena brought herself closer to Wren and said: "Please forgive me, Lady Avari, but I don't think I could leave you alone for the time being. I know the dangers that lies in what I'm about to propose to you now, but leaving you on your own like that, will hold the same risk. Therefore consider my offer; I'd like you to follow me to Ascara, to Priest Augustine's former wife and-!"

Before Helena could finish her words an object carried swiftly by the wind was shoot right at the two. Helena pushed the young Healer, getting hit by the object in her lower right shoulder. As blood poured out, Helena realized that she was hit by an arrow. She bit her lips as she forced it out of her body, pain filling her mind.

"Lady Avari, quickly!", Helena said and pointed at her weapon that was tossed beside them. Wren rushed to grab it and gave it to the Paladin, "Good, now, stay behind me".

Helena lifted her spear and held it before her, narrowing her eyes, looking from side to side in order to spot the attacker's location. Helena tried to act brave but even Wren could see that she used her weapon to support her stand, telling that she was not in a good condition to fight.

"Helena, we must head back indoors, the arrow might be poisoned!"

Helena was still focused at the attacker and somewhat more concerned in keeping her senses undistracted, "What kind of a man are you, hitting a lady from a safe place while keeping your hands clean? If you are brave enough, come face me right now!"

For a moment it seems like Helena yelled for nothing, but before long Paladins were assembled. Wren quickly noticed that one was carrying a cross-bow in his hands.

"Lady Leviticus", said one of them; A tall man with tanned skin and short brown hair. His position in standing in front of the others hinted Helena that he might be the leader of the bunch.

"Do I know you?", barked Helena at the man.

"No, but your reputation goes before you, or should I say that your hair looked rather familiar", the late comment earned chuckles from the rest of his men, and he himself joined them with a full wide grin.

"What do you want?", Helena asked, clearly not comfortable in the mention of her extraordinary red hair, which earned her the title of 'Hell born child'.

"I want the young woman", said the man as he pointed at Wren.

"Ivalor's rules are strict, but there are brothels all over the place. I'm sure you've heard about at least one of them", said Helena, her spear brought before Wren; clearly showing that she was not for him to get.

"Aren't we amusing? Sadly we are not here for pleasure, just business"
"Who ordered you to kill her?"

"I don't have time to chat with you, Lady Leviticus. Once she is taken care of, I'll have all the time in the world for you, but for now, I'll ask you again to give her to me"

"I never thought I'll have to fight my own brethren. Today was truly a sad one", Said Helena.

"Are you sure you can fight us all? The wound was not critical, but in order for you to handle your spear you'll need both hands. In addition, the use of the spear will force you into a long range fight, and we are all trained swordsman. We will not give you the needed distance to land a strike", said the man and smiled, "Oh, and let me add one more important value to the equation…"

"Let me guess… It was indeed poisonous…", Helena said and spit, "I'm a warrior of honor, I'll fight you to the death to protect what's important to me"

"You are indeed foolish, ATTACK THEM BOTH!"

Without any second wasted, the men were already circling the two, their swords in their hands. Helena tried to hold them back, but all she could have done was block some of their strikes for she was unable to lift her weapon and go for the offensive. In the havoc of the fight she lost track of the one who was equipped with the bow and Helena feared for Wren's life, "Wren, be careful, we might be targeted again. When you see a clear, rush inside the pub and get some help!", ordered Helena.

Anne Bonny
03-03-2010, 06:31 AM
Things moved so quickly that Wren could hardly keep up with them. Helena wounded, the paladins wanted her, Helena stepping forward to protect her...

"Wren, be careful, we might be targeted again. When you see a clear, rush inside the pub and get some help!", ordered Helena.

Her mind racing, Wren glanced up at Helena and nodded. All the moisture had seemed to have left her mouth, leaving her unable to speak. Her frightened gaze moved from one sword to the next. The paladins had them completely surrounded! How could she possibly get through? The healer was unarmed, and even if she had some sort of weapon, she would be a sorry match for any one man, let alone several.

Wren turned to face the pub, her back against Helena's, her heart thumping in her chest. The bar wasn't very far away, really, she told herself. Just a few steps. She could make it. She had to make it. With Helena moving quickly, the poison from the arrow was already pumping through her body. Wren knew her companion didn't have any time to spare.

As if sensing her resolve, Helena suddenly pulled the end of her spear across the ground, catching the enemy behind her off guard. The man jumped to avoid the weapon, but stumbled and fell to one knee An opening cleared and Wren darted forward, running with all her strength to the pub. A few long seconds later she was pulling open the door without a backward glance and moving inside.

But once she got into the dimly lit tavern, Wren hesitated. There was a fair crowd gathered, but who to ask for rescue? Who would be willing to go up against a group of holy warriors on the word of a stranger? Should she just shout for help into the room and pray for an answer? Despair began to squeeze at her heart as Wren's green eyes flew from one table to the next.

"...and not just any pirate! Sinclair was one of the best!" A voice floated over from a nearby table. Wren turned to see a pair of men deep in conversation, and deep in their drinks.

"Aye," one said after taking another gulp. "He must be some fighter. He and his boys! Imagine a merchant doing in a pirate and his entire crew!"

"Imagine the reward," the other returned, his words slurred.

Wren took a quick step towards the table. "Excuse me, sirs," she said, trying to catch her breath. "Who are you speaking of?"

The two looked up, surprised at the sudden appearance of the small, disheveled girl. But one pointed and Wren followed his gesture to a rowdy looking group across the tavern. "Timothy Perriwinkle," he said. "What, you didn't get your drink?"

The other man chuckled. "You're too late, though. Looks like another woman's already found him."

But the healer hardly heard his words, as she had already taken several steps in the merchant's direction. She picked out Perriwinkle immediately; light hair, handsome features, an easy smile, and a gorgeous woman extending her hand towards him. Whether a trader would be willing to help her or not was to be seen, but it was her only hope.

"Mr. Perriwinkle," she cried a little too loudly as she neared the bunch. Several in the group turned to see her coming, and a few even laughed. Wren's cheeks reddened, but she pressed on.

"Pardon me, please," she said with a nod to the dark haired woman before turning back to the merchant. "Please, sir, I heard the story about the pirate you killed. I need your help! My friend is in trouble and..."

A barking laugh sounded in her ear and Wren turned to see yet another woman at her side. This one was sitting with the crew, perched on the edge of a table. Clearly a sailor like the rest of them, judging by the men's clothing she wore and her tanned skin. "Just what kind of trouble could this little mouse be in?" the girl asked, raising her mug in Wren's direction. She then gestured to the dark haired woman with another laugh. "Do one good deed and damsels in distress come out of the woodwork, eh Cap?"

The men around them joined in with the chorus of laughter, but Wren turned back to Perriwinkle undeterred. "Sir, please. There's a fight just outside. One woman against a whole group of paladins."

The sailor girl howled at that one, doubling over and holding her sides. "Paladins? Hear that boys? What in Neptune's name did you do, kid?"

Wren refused to turn her eyes from the man before her. "We're innocent, I swear it. If there's anything you can do, please help us!" In desperation she reached out to take a hold of his sleeve, praying that there was some possible way for the stranger to read her thoughts, to see that she was earnest. Thoughts raced through her head. There must be some way to convince him. "You're a merchant, right? We could pay you somehow afterwords. But we don't have much time!"

Septimus
03-06-2010, 07:19 PM
They were few things more relaxing than sharing a drink with ones friends. ‘Timothy Perriwinkle’ was in his element, surrounded by cut throats that would follow his lead only so long as he continued to prove himself a worthy leader. For now he had done just that, his loyal crew a cut from the considerably sized purse he had obtained through his own tireless efforts. He had also neutralized the potential mutineer by name of Sarl, which was an accomplishment to drink to in itself. The man sat with the others, sullenly taking a long draught from his tankard. It must be frustrating to be constantly foiled at every turn. There was always one trait amongst pirates, a quality that put a man such as Raphael at the head of the pack. The vast majority of them were well and undoubtedly stupid. To be a proper captain requires cunning, a sharp wit that many of their profession, Sarl included, lacked. That was why Raphael was never too concerned by the man’s attempts. If any of his crew were to ever take his place he would bet his money on Mikhail as he was the only one ever to display a mind beyond plunder and tavern wenches. He actually used his head on his shoulders as opposed to the others who preferred to listen to the one between their legs. A mind was what made a great captain. Not muscle.

Raphael was sitting comfortably within his chair, leaning back with an arm draped over the back. His other hand lightly held a wide brimmed cup, tilting it slightly this way and that to make the dark liquid within swirl against the sides. The spiced wine here was a far cry from the bottles he had stored aboard the Strahl for his private use. It was a drink however and after his grand performance with Ivalors finest there was certainly cause for celebration. The men shared that sentiment of course but they would be drinking regardless if there was a reason or not. His first mate was having a good time at least and for that the young captain was glad for the man worried far too much.

The voice of a woman intruded on his thoughts, something soft and polite, pulling him back to the present. The woman who stood before him was lovely in appearance, her skin a darker shade than was normally found here in Ivalor. Her hair was a chocolate color, dark brown and cascading down her back and framing a smooth, attractive face. She was a traveler, she admitted, going on to explain that she had seen him on the docks. So she had seen his performance then, meaning it was Timothy she had come to talk to and not the presumed dead Raphael Sinclair.

“Ciara.” He repeated thoughtfully, shaking her hand. “I’m Ra…eally glad to meet you. Names Timothy Perriwinkle.”

Damn if that wasn’t close. In a single moment of rashness he had very nearly revealed the game for what it was. Never once had he made such a brutal mistake, or even come close to it for that matter. He must have been even more distracted than he’d realized to have nearly made so simple a slip up.

“Just words? How disappointing.”

The woman never got the chance to answer. He had barely even finished speaking himself before the tavern door suddenly burst open with a loud crash and a frightened young woman with golden blond hair came dashing inside. She had the look of someone being chased about her, a look Raphael was rather familiar with as pirates adopted the same look often. Her green eyes were darting about the tavern frantically in search of either help or a proper hiding place. He looked around a moment more and then her bright, moist eyes settled on him. Apparently being an alleged hero made everyone turn to you. What was truly odd thoughwas that he had clearly proclaimed Mikhail his slayer, yet the stories still centered on him. Perhaps some people simply weren’t meant to be in the spotlight.

The girl headed for him, cutting around tables and serving women without even looking at them as she approached. Watching her, Raphael leaned toward his first mate, murmuring into the man’s ear and nodding her way. Mikhail simply nodded in response, turning his attention to the coming discussion. He apparently wasn’t the only one either for soon after she announced herself and started talking Magueritte, a young woman who had found her way into the crew about a month ago, piped in with thoughts of her own. She was rather opinionated, even a little mouthy though she had managed to avoid annoying him too greatly. For that reason she yet remained un-reprimanded, though if she kept being rude to the poor girl he might.

Paladins… warriors of light, defenders of justice. By Wren’s account they were not acting as their station demanded. To think that a large group were engaging a single woman alone. Even pirates had more honor than that. Granted there were not many out there who did but that made the statement no less true. The young woman, her eyes watery with unshed tears, did not look the sort to commit whatever heinous crime might bring Paladin’s down on her head. She seemed… decent. There was a delicate innocence to her that just made the idea of those small hands doing wrong difficult to grasp. He had to ask himself though: Did it really matter if she was wrong or not? Right and wrong, good and evil, all of it was a matter of perspective. A man who slaughtered an entire village thought himself a bringer of justice, proclaimed them villains even while the villagers spoke of the cruel and evil man who took their loved ones from them. Whether the girl was right and wrong mattered little to the man. The question was instead which side would he choose.

“Mikhail, my friend.” Raphael said finally, glancing at his friend and holding a hand palm up to the man. Mikhail was already counting out ten pieces of silver from his purse, grumbling as he paid up the losses of yet another wager with his captain. “Seems a hero’s work is never done after all.”

“Aye, sir.”

With that the two men rose from their chairs. The other crew members would not rise yet, wouldn’t abandon their drinks unless trouble was truly there. Once the call to arms was given they would be up on their feet, weapons in hand within moments but until they heard that call they were about as immovable as a mountain. Raphael offered the girl soft encouragement, assuring her that she did not have to accompany them if she did not wish. A battle could be trying on the nerves and for someone who was not used to it the sight of blood and death could be quite traumatizing. He would rather spare the young woman that fate if he could. With her friend in danger though it was doubtful she would stay behind. She just appeared the loyal sort.

Eyes watched the two men as they crossed the bar room, the whispers following in their wake. The men who killed Raphael Sinclair were on the march, headed for a battle outside. They never dreamed that the person hey whispered of was indeed Raphael himself, the dreaded pirate who had never been outsmarted, never bested in a fight be it fair or not. There was a reason he was considered the most deadly pirate on the seas and yet they had all fallen for the story. To think that a merchant of all people would actually be able to defeat both himself and the crew was almost insulting. Not that he could complain though. Their gullibility was what allowed him to escape the hangman’s noose yet again. Soon enough he would be departing and the entire city would quickly know their mistake. First though there was a certain band of Paladins that needed a lesson taught, and Raphael pulled open the door before bounding outside.

Outside the Paladins had formed a ring around the woman Wren had mentioned. She was already wounded, a crossbow bolt protruding from her shoulder. She stood a little uncertainly, swaying every now and then as if dizzy. That single bolt could not have caused enough blood loss for that… was it possible it was poisoned? Holy warriors were turning to dishonorable means now were they? Christ he was dead a few moments and the whole world just seemed to fall apart. Fiery red hair cascaded down the woman’s back, her hands ripping the haft of a long spear and using the blunt end to prop herself up and maintain better balance. The men were confident in their numbers, laughing and joking as they took turns take shots at her. They felt no need to worry for both she and the blond woman were trapped. There was only one exit out of that tavern and they were standing al around it.

“Excuse me gentleman.” Raphael called, trying to draw their attention as he stood within the doorway. There was the sudden roar of pistol shot, the weapon held just over his shoulder to fire a ball into one of the paladins. The man spun with the impact and fell to the ground, a heavy crossbow clattering to the street. The pirate captain frowned, casting an emerald eye back toward where Mikhail stood with pistol in hand. In answer the first mate simply shrugged, murmuring that the man had a crossbow. “Ah…”

That brilliantly wrought rapier leapt into his hands then, the motion so quick it blurred before the eye. Taken by surprise with that shot, the Paladins had not even properly collected themselves before the nearest one was run through and taken from the fight. Within the tavern there was the commotion of cursing and coming men, his crew running to the fight after hearing that shot. Raphael spared little thought to them however, his thin blade flicking out to parry a man’s sword and swiping a quick counter across the attacker’s eyes to blind him. Mikhail was right behind him, long sword held within both hands as he engaged the one beside his captain. The paladin’s axe did little to protect him as the skilled sailor batted it aside and hacked down into the man’s shoulder, cleaving the collarbone clean in two. He battle was taken up in full now, the paladins clamoring to meet the new threat, a pair of men who should not serve as much of a challenge and yet would soon be joined by many more.

Mysteria
03-10-2010, 11:33 PM
Ivalor-Port of Hope

The gentleman's hand was warm as he took hers and spoke. “Ciara. I’m Ra…eally glad to meet you. Names Timothy Perriwinkle.” Although he appeared to be very well mannered, Ciarra thought he must be a foreigner by the way he had pronounced the word really. His eyes lingered upon hers for just a moment before he had continued and Ciara had chosen to simply smile slightly. She was finally becoming accustomed to having men look at her in such an odd way. She wasn't certain why men looked at her the way that they did. Perhaps they found her dark skin to be unfavorable. His next words stunned her for just a brief second.

“Just words? How disappointing.” A smile played across his handsome features as Ciaras own slight smile turned into a full grin. However the sudden sound of the door slamming open drew both of their attentions to the young girl who appeared to be frightened. Ciara listened to what the young girl had to say. Ciara herself was by no means a warrior of any type but followed the others outside. If she could help in any way at all she would try. Seeing the young blonde so frightened had sealed the deal for her. She had to do something. But, what?

Upon seeing the vision outside that met her eyes Ciara eyes instinctively searched the skies for any sign of Reyes lingering near. One thing she had come to know since having bonded with the falcon was that he was always near, even if she couldn't see him. As she watched Timothy Perriwinkle moved into action, his rapier cutting through the paladins with ease. From above she heard Reyes answering her silent call as he swooped down into the midst of the paladins his beak and claws tearing at flesh as he attacked.

Until then Ciara had drawn her own dirks and was ready to put them to use. As the paladins advanced forward the pair of daggers left her skilled hands, one being shot out to the right and slicing a paladin while the other went whizzing passed Timothy Perriwinkles head and finding its mark right between the eyes of the paladin directly in front of the young merchant. The paladins scream of pain ripped through the air before falling to the ground dead.

Kris
03-14-2010, 01:07 AM
Ivalor- Port of Hope

"Tsk"

The man with the tanned skin, the so-called leader of the group backed a few inches away from his comrades before using the havoc created around him and the fact the others were busy, to make his flight. He didn't even bother to look back. All that he wanted to do now was to get away as far as he could from there. No one noticed him…

Or so he thought…

A bird, black raven, was hovering above him, indicting his whereabouts. He felt somewhat annoyed by that and turned to stand still at his place, before he closed his eyes. When he reopened them, they flashed for a moment in bright red before turning into their original black form.

A link was made between him and the little bird, and sights were quickly passing in his mind. There was one thing that caught his attention, one about red fire and a calling…

"Ah, I should have known", he spoke, but in a voice that was not his own. Looking back up at the bird the man smirk before spreading his arms and legs, feeling how his body slowly changing form and reducing in height. His skin turned even darker while the flesh changes into feathers. Once it became the complete copy of the little raven it beat his wings and soared up, aiming to leave quicker then he planned to, not forgetting to harm the little creatures that was his prototype in his way.

The raven halted, but felt nothing. Realizing his scares were not for real, and only meant to slow him down, the little bird flew to catch up with his mistress who called for him to join in battle.

***

Once the shoot has been fired, as if on cue, so did Helena let go of her stance and allowed the pain to finally take over her. She fell down on her knees before crouching down, her spear landing beside her. She reached a hand for her shoulder, passing fingers along the wood that was the arrow that was still stuck upon his mark. She wanted to pull that damn thing off of her, but decided it was more urgent to find a clear spot first. While thinking so, Helena crawled sideway before the body of someone almost landed on her.

The sight of battle was getting more and more blurry and she already lost her sense of sound. She moved some more distance before giving up completely, havening no choice but to count on whoever that Wren has brought with her.

She hated the thought of relying on someone else, but giving her condition she realized she really didn't have a choice.

"I'm out of shape… If we get out of this, I'll double my exercises".

***

Ivalor- Capital Camelot

The bird easily penetrated the small window which leaded into the new high priest of Ivalor's chamber. Bolgan was busy writing and gave little thought to the creature that now shaded his letter. Once it started to peck him, the old man waved his hands to shoo it, with little effort of course, since he was so occupied.

The bird then flew a little before emitting rays of light, as it returned to wear its former human form. Bolgan alarmed by this change backed away and shielded his eyes. Once the light faded, Bolgan looked at the young man before him, anger upon his face, "Your master is not here", he barked his words.

The young paladin only smirked.

"Oh, I see", said Bolgan, trying his best to calm his anger, that for the first time overtook the sensation of fear that he always felt whenever he stood beside the present of Emonalach, "F-forgive me, my lord, I should have-!"

"The sealed lost fire… She called for help… The agents of light are assembling here in the holy city…"

As it always has been, Bolgan found himself in a position in which he couldn't even start to understand what was on his master's mind, or what the hell was he talking about, he decided to simply answer as he always did, "What would you ask of me, my lord?"

"Inform Shylock that I request an audience with him", said the man, before his eyes flashed again. All expression of life disappeared from his face for a second, as the man caught his throat, and started coughing, falling to the ground, unable to breath.

Bolgan ignored the man and went back to his desk. It was always like that for everyone that his master had control of and decided to "wear" them. He should be better soon, and if not, Bolgan could have cared less.

StormWolf
03-21-2010, 05:22 AM
The Norgard had been tight as a coiled and compressed spring, ready to be let loose at a moments notice. The strong --no, putrid-- stench of this tavern made Arjak want to scratch his nose. Something did not smell right. Beyond the reek of alcohol and pipe smoke and human musk, sultry stench, and mold beneath the floorboards, Arjak could smell something that didn't belong. Something that smelled.... clean.

Arjak's golden eyes darted to the woman... the girl, who started screaming in borderline hysteria. Paladins; a bunch of self-righteous fools who believe they can justify murder with a word. Covered in glit or no, they were attacking someone comparably defenseless. Arjak felt that cold settle in his stomach and that fire fill his veins. He flexed his hands and watched the paladins move, judging and measuring them like a wolf would a herd of elk, finding the weak, the sick, the elderly, the young... the leader. Any weakness. His keen eyes found weak spots in their armor, places where the plate armor had to part to allow some kind of functional movement. The places that were the most exposed were the armpits, the neck, and the face. That would do just fine.

With one fluid, practiced motion, Arjak pulled his heavy shield and his spears from his back. In his right hand he held one of the sword-spears while he held two in his left, half of the blades sticking out past the broad ironwood shield. The Norgard saw Ciara leap into the fray, so Arjak was right on her tail, like a faithful warhound. She made one drop to the ground with a deep flesh wound from one of her dirks while another fell like a sack of flour with the other dirk lodged in his face. Too clean for Arjak's taste. One of the paladin's raised his sword, ready to cleave Ciara from stem to stern when Arjak yelled and leapt, his powerful legs launching him at the man. With a warrior's growl, the thick iron band around his shield smashed into the paladin's head, clotheslining him and sending him for a loop just to hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Another swung at Arjak, the large Nordard blocking the swipe of the sword easily with his wide shield before countering and sinking his sword-spear into the man's neck one, twice, thrice, four times. Arjak snarled with a menacing growl at the man as he gurgled and fell to the ground, drowning on the very liquid that was meant to keep him alive. In the furs that Arajak was clad in, along with his golden eyes and the near-lupine nature of his teeth, he did look like a giant wolf on two legs.

The paladin he had bashed with his shield started to stir, struggling to find a place to put his feet. Arjak stalked around the man, like a wolf around a limping stag, licking its chops, anticipating the savory thrill of the kill. Arjak too dragged his tongue over his teeth, shield and sword-spear raised, his metaphorical fangs and claws. Arjak waited for the man to get on his feet before striking one of his knees with the heavy shield, a satisfying snap and a scream rand out before the scream was cut short by a blade going through the man's soft throat. Horror filled the paladin's eyes as his mouth gaped uselessly to try and suck in air. Blood flowed freely and Arjak smiled as he watched the paladin go pale and fall off of the blade of the spear.

Anne Bonny
03-25-2010, 06:36 AM
When they exited the tavern, Wren gasped at the scene before her. The paladins had been fighting with Helena when she had run off to get help, but the cruelty of the so-called holy warriors had surfaced by the time she had returned. The poison was wracking Helena's body to the point that she could barely remain on her feet and fight off the enemies at the same time.

Timothy Perriwinkle and his companion went straight to work on the paladins, leaving Wren a clear path to reach her friend. Helena collapsed onto her hands as soon as there was someone else to take over the fight. As soon as Wren reached her, she too dropped to her knees. She murmured what she hoped were soothing words as she helped Helena to lay in her lap.

"Rest," Wren urged. "The less you move, the slower the poison will travel. Just hang on until we can get to safety."

The sounds of battle were all around the two women. With wide eyes Wren watched the scene unfold around her. How quickly the tide had turned! Not only had Perriwinkle come to their aid, others from the tavern were also there to assist. The dark beauty that had been talking to the merchant in the tavern was skillfully attacking with dirks. A huge brute of a man clad in skins tore through one foe after another. Even a falcon from overhead joined the fray, Wren realized with wonder. Each fighter was impressive, to say the least. Although their craft was a terrible one, they were highly skilled at it.

As for Perriwinkle's crew, they had scrambled out of the pub just behind their fearless leader. Several formed a small circle of protection around Wren and Helena. One of them was the loud, rude girl from before.

"Oy, girl!" the sailor called over her shoulder. "Is your friend alright?"

"No, she's been poisoned by the arrow. I need to get her someplace safe so I can help her!"

The sailor shook her head. "Damn. There go my plans for getting sloshed and inviting that bartender up to my room. Hey Captain!"

She moved forward to join Perriwinkle, skipping over the body of a fallen paladin that lay in her path. Wren's gaze followed to watch the other woman gesture towards them. The captain's eyes met her own, and Wren felt her cheeks grow warm. She quickly looked down to Helena, praying the man had been too far away to see her blush. What was that? Wren wondered as she smoothed some hair from Helena's face. She certainly had other things to worry about besides catching the eye of a handsome stranger.

Instead she kept her attentions on her wounded friend. "Not much longer, Helena. Be strong."

Septimus
03-31-2010, 10:40 PM
If the paladins thought they knew battle and combat they had never seen the likes of Raphael Sinclair and Mikhail Dovraine. The two were experienced not only in the chaotic arts of combat but in fighting as a team and, though they had other allies at their backs, it was forward that they came around the fallen women Wren was seeing to. Though their styles differed, though they fought in entirely different manners, they employed both their skills and talents to disastrous effects. The massive barbarian and that lady who had first approached him to talk were holding their own well enough, taking care of those paladins that were closest to the tavern and soon the crew came spilling out as well, taking up the other side. It was the three who stood at the peak of that loose ring that the two pirates approached. Though their leader had turned tail and ran they were not so cowardly, they brandished steel and came on, hoping to help defend their friends who were quickly being overwhelmed.

Raphael slowed, allowing Mikhail to take the lead as he leapt to the side and behind the man. His first mate swept a paladin’s sword away with a clean sweep, leaving the man open as the young captain lunged forward, plunging the blade neatly into the man’s chest. Mikhail was already lifting his foot, sending a vicious kick into the dying man’s chest to remove him from his companion’s blade before turning to catch a second strike from another on his sword. Raphael turned as well, flicking that thin bladed rapier across in a smooth parry. His sword lashed outward in a vicious counter stroke aimed toward the eyes but this one proved a little more skilled in the art of combat and managed to evade by snapping his head backward and away from the gleaming tip. Back to back now the two fended off several more blows, their own return strikes defended in similar fashion. So these two had seen battle before it seemed, but they could not stand a chance against the combined might of the pirate captain and his deadly first mate.

The one who faced Mikhail batted the man’s blade away with a gauntleted hand, raising his sword in preparation for a vicious down stroke. At the same time Raphael’s opponent narrowly evaded a smooth stroke that would have opened his throat, lunging back in with a strike that came from low to the ground and rose upward as if he sought to cut the man in half. “Down!” Raphael shouted as he leapt backward . Mikhail reacted immediately, shouting ‘Up!’ in turn as his knees bent and he crouched low to the ground. The timing was flawless, perfect as usual as the captain tipped backwards and flipped over his first mate’s back. His kicking boot caught the downward arch of that blade, sending it out wide and away and even as he came to his feet that rapier lashed forward, plunging through the man’s throat in a sudden rush of crimson fluid that spilled out over his armor. Mikhail treated his new foe with a similar welcome, batting the weapon aside with the pommel of his own longsword before turning into a vicious attack that neatly removed the paladin’s head from his broad shoulders.

The battle had pretty much run its course by then, the paladin’s having been quickly overwhelmed and defeated by the joint efforts of the two strangers and his skilled crew. The cute blonde who had garnered his help in the first place was kneeling in the center of the corpses, holding that fiery haired woman’s head in her lap and murmuring something he couldn’t hear. He turned to one of the men he had killed, bending to wipe his blade clean of blood before sliding it easily back into its sheath. Mikhail was doing the same, grumbling contemptuously about the overall arrogance of Paladin’s in general and that even crooks wrapped in shinny armor were still crooks just the same. Raphael did not so much as spare the man a glance, accustomed to such private ranting by now.

“Right men.” He called, that unmistakable note of authority creeping easily into his voice. “It appears we have a need to set sail. Looks like our vacation is cut short. No rest for the wicked, aye?”

The crew raised their general agreement, stowing weapons now that the fighting was at least momentarily over. They cleared out straight away, their steps hastened by the need to get out of town quickly lest the watch arrive and start asking unnecessary questions. Raphael had gotten lucky enough to weasel out of capture once with his grand and preposterous tale. He would not do so again. Honest merchants simply did not slay paladins no matter how corrupt. It just wasn’t the way of things. If they moved quickly though they needn’t worry and so Raphael turned to suit action to his own orders and head for the vessel. He didn’t make it a single step though before there came a light tug upon the sleeve f his arm which, he suddenly noticed, was stained with several flecks of blood. How distasteful.

Green eyes found the face of Ciara, the woman who had tried to speak to him in the tavern before all the excitement started. “Mr. Periwinkle about that word I would have with you…” She began, interrupted suddenly by a raised hand from the captain as he turned more completely toward her.

“Let me guess. You were hoping to procure passage upon my vessel somewhere and now that you have assisted in the killing and or murder of at least one paladin you would very much appreciate it if I would allow such passage, correct?”

"The Norgard and I were searching for passage before the ruckus broke out and were willing to pay. The fact that we helped someone in need matters not to me. We can still pay our way if you should have room aboard your magnificent vessel."

Raphael couldn’t help but smile slightly, the look almost roguish upon his handsome face. This woman had never even been aboard his vessel and yet she was complimenting him. Trying to worm her way into his good graces perhaps? It was something to be discussed later. Whether she deemed her assistance important or not she had aided them when she did not otherwise have to. Even though such help was not necessarily needed with the much greater numbers of the crew that had swamped the paladins it was still help. The fact that it was unnecessary helped did not matter all that much. He simply waved her of in the direction of the docks, saying we could settle that after they had avoided the trouble that was surely coming down on their heads after this. With that he turned toward the blond woman who had gotten him into this mess in the first place, his hands on his hips as he regarded the pair of them with Mikhail a silent presence at his back.

“I don’t suppose you would be hoping for a ride as well?”

The young woman looked up, her eyes bright and just as green as his own as she regarded the man standing over her. There was a slight vulnerability to her a gaze, a fear that made him wonder if perhaps she thought he might harm her. Her tongue flicked out over her lips a moment, a nervous gesture as she agreed that she did, trying to rise and lift the paladin up with her. Raphael set Mikhail to the task, asking him if he would be so kind as to carry the innocent paladin to the ship. The man did not complain as he strode forward to lift the woman into his arms, at least not loudly enough for him to hear. He saw his lips moving though so perhaps the curses were simply streaming out soundlessly. That sounded more like the man. Wren followed as Mikhail headed off toward the ship, urging him to be careful and to hurry because the woman needed help as soon as possible. The pair must be close friends if she worried so for her.

With everything settled now Raphael finally headed toward the docks himself, walking briskly a little ways behind Mikhail and the blond woman. By his reckoning they had only a minute or two before the watch got their act together and arrived. By then things would get a tad more difficult. Raphael saw no reason to worry though for as he stepped out onto the dock the men were already well on their way to preparing the ship to cast off. Truthfully there wasn’t much to be done anyway. A pirate that left his ship unable to quickly make way and cast off again was almost always quickly a dead pirate. They were simply waiting for their captain to come aboard before casting off.

StormWolf
04-01-2010, 04:10 AM
The burly Norgard never stayed far from Ciara. He had sling his shield on his back again, but he still kept sword-spears in hand. Fights that involved steel-on-steel, especially against Paladins, would not go unnoticed. What happened today would likely follow the lot of them and bite them on the ass like a wolf would a fleeing steer. But that is in the unpredictable and foggy frontier of the future. Arjak never planned for anything he knew he could not control.

Arjak's eyebrows pulled down on his face when he saw that smile on the boatman's face. His hands tightened around his spears, his eyes sharp and hard as he watched every movement of the sailor.

"We need to move." Arjak said quietly, his voice a growl. Once Ciara started to move, Arjak followed, staying at her heels, remaining tense, ready to pounce on the first person who made a threatening twitch or if the shimmer of sun on steel caught his eye. Veins popped in his thick muscular arms, his long black hair kept back by the leather chord around his crown, a few strands of raven black strayed into his face, framing his wild eyes.

Once on the deck of the ship, Arjak wiped the heads of his spears on the thick fir-trimmed leather that hung from his belt, putting the weapons away once the blades were clean. One hand gripped the handsle of his heavy-bladed Seax, standing close to Ciara like a wolfhound, protective and watchful.

Mysteria
04-01-2010, 04:46 PM
Ivalor- Port of Hope

The battle had been waged and won, at least for now. Retrieving her daggers from the two slain paladins Ciara wiped them on the dead paladins clothing before concealing them on her person again. Ciara knew Timothy Perriwinkle had the right idea when she heard him speaking to his men.

“Right men.” He called, that unmistakable note of authority creeping easily into his voice. “It appears we have a need to set sail. Looks like our vacation is cut short. No rest for the wicked, aye?”

Moving swiftly Ciara reached out tugging on the mans sleeve before he had a chance to get away. The fastest way to Ascara was about to sail away and she hadn't yet had her chance to speak with him. When he turned she regarded him with olive eyes curiously. For a mere merchant he had fought rather valiantly but at the moment Ciara wasn't about to question it. The truth was at this point that she just wanted to get to Ascara.

She had no sooner gotten a few words out than he had interrupted her making a bold statement. “Let me guess. You were hoping to procure passage upon my vessel somewhere and now that you have assisted in the killing and or murder of at least one paladin you would very much appreciate it if I would allow such passage, correct?” Ciaras eyes narrowed slightly. Mr. Perriwinkle presumed to much and he had done it rather quickly. However he was a handsome man and his smile had quickly made her forget the assumptive statement.

Ciara smiled slightly, her gaze meeting his as she spoke "The Norgard and I were searching for passage before the ruckus broke out and were willing to pay. The fact that we helped someone in need matters not to me. We can still pay our way if you should have room aboard your magnificent vessel."

The merchant motioned towards the dock and mentioned they could settle up later. She nodded and was just about to turn and tell Arjak when she heard a half growl coming from his lips. "We need to move." Turning her head those green eyes burned into the Norgards gleaming golden eyes and without so much as a word she turned and walked onto the boat. Arjak followed her onto the boat watching her every movement and standing close to her as to protect her as a father would a daughter.

Ciaras eyes caught his as the smile disappeared from her fine features followed by a deep sigh. "I appreciate that you wish to protect me Norgard" Ciara paused briefly gathering her composure so as not to sound ungrateful "but really, it is not so necessary as you think. Do I really look defenseless to you Arjak?" Her words were laced with a hint of irritation. " Do I look like I need protecting? Do you not think I can fend for myself?" Damned stubborn Norgard anyhow she thought to herself as she stopped herself from saying more and moved to the edge of the boat watching as the others boarded.

Anne Bonny
04-08-2010, 07:26 PM
Although wounded and weak, Helena seemed to have enough energy to protest against being carried to the ship. She hurled insults and squirmed against the sailor who held her, but in response the man just pulled her closer to his body.

Wren trotted alongside the man nervously. Helena was strong, but she had been too active. The sweat that had appeared on her forehead was a sublte sign of the battle that her body was having against the venom. The healer was worried. She had never taken on such an extreme case of poisoning. Wren wrung her hands together. She wished Father Augustine was there to help.

"Be careful!" Wren cried suddenly as the sailor turned to look behind him and swung Helena's head around a bit faster than she would have liked.

"Would you just put me down?" the paladin snapped. "I can take it from here!"

But the man ignored them both and walked up the gangplank onto the ship before them. He was saying something, Wren noticed, or at least his lips were moving, but she couldn't hear him. With a final glance backward to see the captain following not far behind, she also boarded the ship.

The man carried Helena into a plain little cabin, muttering something about a "guest room" and placed the paladin on the bed with surprising care. Wren barely had tome to say a few words of thanks to him before he retreated, leaving the two women alone.

With shaking hands, the healer snatched a pitcher of water and a wash bowl from a nearby shelf and quickly made her way to Helena's side. Perched on the edge of the bed, Wren placed the bowl carefully under the paladin's wounded shoulder. She wished she had something to help with the pain, but the truth was that there was no time to mix a numbing salve. Ever second that passed was vital.

"Try to relax," Wren said apologetically. She grasped the arrow's shaft with her right hand and pulled, slowly but firmly. Helena clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut as the damned weapon tore it's way out of her shoulder, but she didn't cry out. Once again, Wren found herself impressed by the woman's strength.

After several agonizingly long seconds passed, the arrow was freed and Wren dropped it to the floor. Blood began to spill from the wound, and without hesitation she gripped Helena's shoulder with her hand. Wren closed her eyes in concentration and let out a long breath, allowing her conciousness to connect with her patient's, to dive into Helena's blood itself.

She felt cold, as much of the paladin's life was pouring out from the wound along with her blood. The darkness of the venom was all around, opressive, and Wren felt short of breath in it's presense. Slowly, however, she willed the darkness to move, the poison to leave Helena's body through the wound it had come in. And with great effort, it slowly did.

Small drops of black liquid began to drip from Helena's shoulder along with her blood, and with every little bit that left, the healer felt she could breath easier and felt some of the warmth return to her friend's body. Her conciousness searched through Helena's body, drawing out every bit of poison that had been pushed through her veins. When there was finally no trace of it left, Wren turned her attentions to the wound itself, gently urging muscle and skin to rejoin and the wound to close.

Wren couldn't be sure how much time passed while she worked. It might have been seconds or minutes, but by the time she finished, the girl was exhausted. Her green eyes finally opened, her gaze falling upon a thin white scar that remained on Helena's skin.

"I'm afraid you're stuck with that though," Wren said, her voice strained. "But you'll be alright."

She offered a small smile before standing to remove the bowl of blood and poison. She poured some water for her friend and moved back to her place of the edge of the bed while Helena drank.

"You shoud rest now," Wren said. "Your body had a hard battle there. And we're safe now." She told Helena of the merchant she had found, Timothy Perriwinkle, of the two other strangers who had helped them in battle, and that they were all safely away from Ivalor on Perriwinkle's ship.

"We'll be alright," she repeated. "You can relax for as long as you need. I think I will go out on deck and get some fresh air, though. I'd like to get to know our heroes a little better."

Wren stood and crossed the little room to it's door. There she paused, hand on the doorknob, and turned back to the other woman. "Helena," she said slowly, "thank you. Thank you for not turning me over to the paladins."

Hagelmand
04-11-2010, 01:59 AM
A passenger ship docked into Tamur's main port, and from it came down close to fifty passengers, and one man, one of the last to come out, had already figured out that most of the passengers weren't there to stay. Wanderers had a thing about them, he knew how to pick them out, those men who, like him, saw other lands with interest, or disdain among many things, but not love, for the land or its people.

He fixed the half-cape on his shoulder, tightening the knot around his neck, and as he finished the steps up from the docks into the upper level of the port, a dark man with a white turban on his head and a flowing black beard patted him on the shoulder, instinctively, he reached for the handle of his knife, but he stopped as soon as he saw who the man was, and the man showed him the small symbol on the top of his hand: Two crossed scimitars over a black and white shield. The wanderer relaxed, and a faint smile formed in his bearded face.

"You never cut your hair in those eight years, Caleb?" the man in the turban asked, letting go of Caleb's shoulder, and offered his hand, Caleb took it.

"Twice, I don't like fire magic too much anymore." Caleb answered with a smirk on his face, soon enough both men started walking north, to the home of the Blademasters in Tamur, Caleb wasn't talking much, and the man with the turban wasn't feeling much like doing it either, they both walked quickly, until they reached a big manor, the man in the turban knocked a few times and waited.

"Why did you stop sending letters?" the man asked, then he shook his head, "Nevermind, the Grand Master wishes to speak with you before the funeral."

Then a man opened the door, a scarred face, he, like Caleb and his companion, had been men who'd seen their share of war, and he showed it with his polite behaviour, and quiet voice as he greeted the two without much more than a nod at Caleb, neither men were much for conversation, and the ambient was heavy in the manor.

"I'll take you to the Master's office, this way." the man who greeted them at the door said, and he guided Caleb through a set of stairs, avoiding many of the other men and women around, all wearing the same cape as him, or the symbol that his companion had on his hand, it wasn't like any of them paid much attention to him, the Blademasters were a group who preferred to grieve in silence, and to respect the wishes of their dead.

Soon enough he was at the Master's office, and after greetings and an awkward mention about the dead, the reason for Caleb to have come all the way down from Sonata to Tamur, the Master offered Caleb a drink, he took it.

"Caleb, I'm aware of your reasons for having chosen to isolate yourself from the order, from your own family even, I understand, you always preferred to do things on your own, you always were a bit of a lone wolf, as Sarah used to say." There was a small silence, Caleb was busy drinking, "There is something I need you to do, now that you are here, a suggestion from Sarah."

"Yes?" was all that Caleb said, he was afraid of his Ascarian accent sounding too foreign now.

"We need you to find a man, called Ariel Ridgeworth, we've found him to be an assassin, and possibly the one who murdered Sarah, it was her wish that you delivered justice, as revenge isn't something a Blademaster does."

Caleb nodded, and set down the glass, he agreed without much thought.

StormWolf
04-11-2010, 06:27 AM
The storm of Ciara's irritation hit Arjak like a ton of bricks. He did not expect such a hostile response for doing something that was usually appreciated. He was not asking for pay, he was not demanding a reward. If anything, he was repaying a debt, and he was protecting her because..... he just felt like it. The lash on her tongue was cutting, the Norgard could almost feel the snap and the sting on his skin. He slipped his thumbs behind his belt and stood there, looking down at the woman as her anger beat upon him like rain water upon a boulder.

Ciara even turned from him with a snap like a riding crop, her raven locks swaying like black silk, his hips moving with a slight rock in her walk. One of the crew came up to Arjak and patted him on his shoulder, obviously having overheard the yelling, Arjak was sure the entire city heard her yell. The Norgard knew the sailor was smiling without looking at him. His scent gave away much.

"Lay that hand on me again and you won't get it back..." Arjak said flatly to the sailor, turning that burning gold gaze at the seaman, making him back away slowly with a simple furrowing of his eyebrows. Turning his eyes back on Ciara, Arjak advanced slowly. He remained silent for a long while, even after standing by her side.

"I protect you, Ciara, because...." he scanned the docks, then studied to water sloshing against the hull. "because you are something worth protecting. Very few things are in this day and age." he cleared his throat, clasping his hands at his belt buckle.

"I also have a debt of honor to you. You saved my life when you did not have to, so to balance the debt, I am to keep you safe. Either way, I'll be damned if I see you get hurt. Your skin is not for stitches, and I intend to keep it that way." Arjak's voice became even more firm as he turned to look her in the eyes, green and gold clashing.

"You can say as many harsh words and utter as many curses as you do bloody wish. You can flay my back with one of your dirks, but I will not be driven off until after my debts are repaid." Arjak said in a deep voice that rumbled with authority and command. The Norgard let some of his stature slip into his speech, the kind of voice he would use when speaking to a soldier. If this fair maiden of the forest insisted to be treated as something less than what she was, then so be it. Her wish was Arjak's command.

Volkov
04-12-2010, 09:51 AM
Ascara_Port Town of Tamur

Symon paced back and forth in front of the outside INN, the dark cloak he was forced to wear trailing behind him at a rather drafty pace working off a bleary eyed hangover, the INN of which Figoro and Melius had rented a room far earlier, the two merchants were doing badly and it was testing on both their nerves either they had chosen a wrong time of the day, or an incorrect place, they had tried few other taverns, and the shipyard again, smaller and homelier but at those hours the mercenaries were skulked into their shadows, and pirates nestled in their ship dens until they needed to set out, neither Figoro nor Melius knew such failure, as such they’re luck was running low and were strategizing where to inquire next as quickly as they could. But they instructed Symon to patrol the outside of the INN. For what they wanted to strategize may or may not have been for all ears, definitely not for Symon’s ears from how reserved they were when they said that to him.

Symon kicked some dirt with his boots, becoming loftily irritated, these merchants were taking far too long in their dally…if the strings that tied them to what he wanted were not made of iron chains he would have made them dance to his tune of getting information from the man Draven spoke of whom had immense knowledge of books…. Vanthirimon, that’s what his name was. The book collector. Symon was seething clenching his fists, he went from loftily irritated to angry, striding down an alleyway out of sight dropping down to sit against a wall, the words jumbling in his head the clarity just out of his grasp, to the top of his mind foamed the words the Merchant lord spoke regarding the man;

“My deal is this: You go with these two gentle merchants of mine to Tamur, and thence to Esgares, and they,-- they will tell you where the man is, for I know he resides now within the Empire. They will each have a particular piece of information in exchange for Master Vanthirimon which will help him to consider loosening his hold on this tome which you desire--for the right price. Without this information, he would be loathe to part with it at all."

The blonde haired lad grasped at the sides of his head, vivid pictures of his imagination forming….flashing! inside of his own head

…Wondering. That’s what he was doing, wondering.

What the cost of betraying such a eerily creepy merchant leading man was, the connections would be a great tide but Symon felt like his patience was all near running out, and if Vanthirimon wouldn’t loosen the hold on the tome without the information…..

From his time in Sigurd, listening. Observing. Ignoring. And persevering, Symon knew there were other ways to get people to talk.

The youth beat his head with his fists this was just giving him a giant migraine, he couldn’t do such a thing and expect to get away with it in Esgares, especially of the book collector was well known….it wouldn’t take long for someone to track Symon down, he was no good at hiding his tracks…not when something he wants is so close…people make mistakes and in this one mistake could cost everything…..but no patience, no patience at all. Symon’s head was going around in circles it was making him feel more sick than the hangover.

Symon slid sideways until he was lying on his side and then shuffled to stare up at the sky watching birds soaring overhead above the buildings he squinted his poisonous toned eyes then he let loose his anger with a fist pounded back at the ground with a rather dusty thud and closed his eyes, the irritation of his hangover growing dimly yet the thoughts cramping space within his mind was than enough to get Symon to snarl and twitch the corners of his mouth, no matter where he was nor how comfortable he could be there,

His ultimate truth clear as crystal in his muddled up cranium was that there was no rest from himself.

Kris
04-18-2010, 12:57 AM
When the trader entered Boglan's office he was surprised to see that nothing was within the chamber, aside from a wooden chair and something that resembled human female. She seemed too fragile and thin to be alive. Her skin was white and pale and red hair was clinging on her face like wet edges of a broom. There was no hint of life within the dead orbs that were her eyes.

"This is absurd; I didn't take you as the kind of person to summon me for jokes", said Shylock, disappointment all over his face, "Your plea sounded urgent, but if it a wench you called me for, trust me I could find plenty… lively even, at the smack-!"

"Trust me Lord Merchant; I do have other business to take care of beside the silly lust of flesh".

Shylock turned around the moment he felt the enigmatic's voice at his back, and watched his form being created from the clear void. He flinched, but only for a mere moment. Curses ran free in his mind, feeling rather angry with himself for showing fear around this man, if he truly was one.

"Boglan was a fine reward to seize", said Emonalach in his strict tune of voice, and the moment he noticed that the other was talking Shylock cleared his mind, focusing himself to the urgent matter he was called for, "He truly was loyal to the high priest", Emonalach then looked at the woman on the chair, "at first".

" Sir, respect granted, but you know that time is expensive for both of us, if you could at least-!"

"Of course, Mr. Lord Dravon Shylock. Expensive indeed. There was this man, Mr. Perriwinkle, I believe…"

"Yes, the famous rogue, Raphael Sinclair. I do not forgive those who dare to touch my money."

Emonalach lowered his head and rubbed his chin.

"Was I summoned for this information?" said Shylock, a grin forming on his face. He was one step ahead in the game, and that realization made him feel somewhat superior.

"It seems you are not ready yet," said Emonalach in low voice, more to himself then for Shylock to hear. Once Emonalach raised his head to face him, Shylock realized that he had been lowering his face only to look at the woman. Sudden sense of curiosity bloomed in Shylock, perhaps he should have given the woman a second thought.

"Is she of any importance?"

"The box, embodiment of creation, of female womb", said Emonalach slowly.

Womb and Box….

Shylock had no idea what the man before him was talking about.

"As I've said, you are not ready yet", said Emonalach, "Not ready to know."

Shylock was ignorant to the matter at hand, but he was no fool. The clues that were given to him told him that Emonalach was actually testing his ability to read the whole picture, to find the information and the details himself.

Once he will have any leads, Emonalach will likely tell him the whole plan.

Until then, however, Shylock must be cautious, he must not fall into this demon's hands. He worked so hard to get control, he will not become like Boglan. On the contrary, he will bind Emonalach to him, instead.

"I have an offer, trader."

"Do tell."

"Our deal is rather unusual."

"Yes, I've studied a bit of your ways. You need formal authority from your clients in order to act in exchange for a person's will and soul, but I still hold my reins."

"Indeed."

"And I would like to keep it that way, good sir."

"Yes, although…"

Shylock let out a small chuckle, "My good man, did you hope that my ambition will outdo me? By all means, don't compare me to the fools that I deal with everyday. Those that will do everything to get what they need."

"Everyone has a price, no? Isn't it what you always say?"

"Just admit, good sir, that you failed to anticipate me."

"Foolish thing to say, Lord Merchant, my hands might be chained, but all the scenarios are open before me."

"Except for those you don't control."

"True enough. Nevertheless, Since I CAN still see some advanced moves that will not change, I need to have some player set too."

"I'm listening."

"You want Raphael Sinclair. I can get your man close to him. It will work for you since you planned to send him from the first place."

Shylock narrowed his eyebrows as a look of suspicious took over him, "Just like that? Without any fee?"

"We do have some kind of a deal, Lord Dravon Shylock, and since I have a need of your man there, I'll make it free."

"Free?"

"As free as it can be made. I said I can only move him closer. Mr. Audata will have to make the rest of the way by himself."

"I see..."

"I'll leave you two to talk," said Emonalach and snapped his fingers. The front door opened and light burst in and took over. Both the woman and Emonalach were gone and the surroundings changed so fast, that it felt like being awaken from a dream. Boglan's work desk with his cupboards of books appeared again. In the corner of the room a window was visible.

Cronus stepped inside and Shylock realized the assasin had been there all along, listening to their conversation.

Stream
04-18-2010, 07:29 PM
Ivalor - Port of Hope

"I wouldn't put it past you to eavesdrop, Mr. Audata," Shylock said as Cronus approached the desk, "you're an assassin, after all."

Cronus took a seat across from Shylock, smiling brightly as the merchant poured himself and his associate a glass of wine. Cronus gave a quick glance down at it before sliding it back across the wooden desk.

"No thank you. I've already told you I don't drink before a… contract." he said coyly. Shylock smiled.

"So you have! Quick to pick up on that. I suppose you're ready to know what I have for you to do?" he said, snapping his fingers as Dreeg waddled over to his master, handing him a linen-wrapped scroll. The disgusting goblin retreated back to his corner, finger eagerly diving back into his pointed ear.

"I'm not touching that if Dreeg has." Cronus smirked.

Shylock laughed for a moment before setting the scroll down in front of Cronus, trading it for his wine glass.

"In that scroll you'll find your orders and your writ of assassination. Of course, you'll be burning it before your ship docks in Ascara," he said, his eyes patiently waiting for a movement from Cronus. The assassin shifted nervously in his chair.

"So, we're going to take Emonalach's offer? I despise ships," he said, taking the scroll and placing it into his own robes. Shylock smiled again. "I suppose you can't just explain the plan to me now?"

"Why of course!" the Merchant Lord said enthusiastically, stowing away the wine bottle and setting Cronus' glass on the floor to be collected by Dreeg.

"Stupid goblin." Cronus sneered.

"Dreeg's harmless. It's nice to feed him something every once in a while that hasn't come from his nose. Now, about Ascara…" he said, leaning in closer to Cronus, "you know of the Sultan Abad Al Aziz? Of course you do. You probably don't know of his daughter though, Jasmine-"

"I've had my share already after you payment, thanks though."

"Clever. What you're going to be doing is a bit of aggressive negotiation. The Sultan is a prideful man. Pride is a terrible thing, Mr. Audata. And for the price of his pride, I will have his daughter's life."

"Why exactly am I killing her, now?"

Shylock's eyes narrowed, giving Cronus "the look". He snapped his fingers again, to call Dreeg over. The empty wine glass had fallen on its side, the miniscule amount of red content left dripping onto the floor. His waddle turned into a drunken stupor. Shylock quickly drew a scroll from the cloth sack on the back of the servant before pointing his back to his corner.

"I thought you knew better than to ask me about my business, Cronus…" he said, placing another scroll in front of him. The assassin sighed.

"You and your damn scrolls! What happened to discretion? Covering your tracks?"

"That particular scroll is to not be opened. Instead, give it to the Sultan. Have him read it."

"So, it's going to be another Boglan, eh?"

"Not quite. Prepare for rejection and to be ejected from his palace."

"And why exactly should I prepare for that?"

"Because, in that scroll is a threat to the Sultan's life and to his family."

The assassin smiled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

"So I'm murdering the entire family?" he said, getting another laugh from Shylock.

"Quite the bloodlust you have. Be patient, Master Audata, be patient. The Sultan in his pride is going to reject you; laugh at you. When he does, show him the error of his ways." Shylock said, dipping his head and narrowing his eyes on the assassin.

Cronus nodded, placing the scroll in his robes.

"Glad we're on the same page. That's all you must know concerning that, for now," he said darkly, "but about your elders problem. They're in the process of being summoned, five in total if I'm correct, to meet you in Ascara. You'll be arriving before hand with the help of our associate. I expect for you to find a creative solution to that dilemma. Anything else is just a bonus."

"I've got a few things in mind already."

"I would expect nothing less." Shylock finished as the front door once again swung open, a blinding light producing an entirely different surrounding and producing two figures; the ghostly woman, and Emonalach.

"Mind the sickness." Emonalach smirked, snapping his fingers.

In an instant Cronus disappeared in the same blinding light Emonalach had arrived in.

"I hope he's as trustworthy as you say he is, Dravon."

Somewhere near the Port of Tallas - Ascara

Cronus reappeared on the deck of a ship in a blinding light, garnering the attention of everyone on board. It would have been a brilliant flare of light for anyone to see on the horizon. The assassin looked around, confused, placing his hand on his dagger.

"Not to worry, Master Audata," a man, obviously from Ascara said, "we've been informed already you'd be boarding with us."

Cheshire
04-24-2010, 05:06 AM
-In the dark room of a castle... somewhere...

"Sir... the scouts... have been unable to locate the artifact..."

A man... in light armor, was kneeling on the floor in front of another... a very well dressed, man, a look of... bored frustration in his eyes...

"I assumed as much... if such a thing 'twas that easy to find, it would surely not be such a legend, now would it?" the man responded calmly. The man held himself with dignity, icy-blue eyes peircing through the other...

"Ah- ... ye-yes sir, we will redouble our efforts to locate it!" he stammered out, looking up, pausing before continuing... he didn't want to say this, but he knew it had to be said, "W-would it not help to have the assistance of the rest of the military, sir?"

The other man merely sighed, giving him a condescending look before replying, "Then, captain, 'twould not be a covert operation, would it?"

"O-of course, sir... I merely asked because we feel we lack the manpower required to-" he began, before being suddenly interupted.

"Do you fear me, captain?"

"... s... sir?"

"Do you fear me?"

"I... I respect you... sir..."

"You trust, then, that I am a fair and just man, correct?"

"Y... yes, sir."

"Then why do you fear me? Do you believe I would kill you just for speaking your mind?"

"Y- you are a very powerful man... sir... I jus-"

"Don't. Don't apologize. Do not stammer out an explanation... I have taken your concerns into account, and I agree, more manpower would be helpful... but this is a delicate matter... we cannot get untrustworthy men involved... your men... I can trust... do not disappoint me."

"Sir, yes sir!"

"As for the matter I requested you look into in Ascara, captain?"

"Ah... on that note, we have a little more to report, sir..."

Elsewhere in the world...

"Ah... godda- ouch..." Laya stammered, as the doctor removed the arrow from her shoulder. The old man simply sighed and looked at her.

"Laya, I know these arrows, they are Sigard make... used by the military... what have I told you about taking such dangerous jobs... you're going to get killed if you make an enemy of entire kingdoms..."

Laya scoffed, grimacing in pain as the doctor applied an antiseptic. Oddly enough, with her shirt off, she actually looked... like... a woman... of course, her attitude remained unchanged. Gripping a towel to her chest, to cover herself, she responded sounding annoyed.

"Such is the way of a mercenary, is it not? If I am to be killed, I'll be killed. If no one is trying to kill me, I'm not doing very good at my job. If the client says 'I'd like supplied from a Sigard caravan' ... well, then a Sigard caravan is going to have an accident..."

The old doctor merely sighed and shook his head, "Ah, the recklessness of youth..."

"'tis not the recklessness of youth, doctor, merely the responsibility of an adult. I make my choices and welcome the consequences..."

Laya palmed a scroll in her spare hand, glancing it over, "I just wish I new what this damn thing was all about... it's in some kind of code... my client had no interest, and I should probably toss it in the ocean and forget about it... but I can't help but feel that if someone's this interested in keeping something secret... it must be valuable... no?"

The doctor sighed again, "I'll patch you up, Laya, whenever you need... just don't try making me a party to your schemes."

"Noted."

Sometime later... Ascala- Port Town of Tamur

Laya relaxed sitting in a seat in one of the the town's street-side food shops, eating some kind of food or another... he mind was still on that scroll... what was it about... she looked at the sky a bit before shaking her head... she'd find out in due time...

Volkov
04-25-2010, 04:26 AM
Ascara Port Town of Tamur

Symon had remained on the ground staring up until his headache had lessened. dusting his cloak and stuffing his hair back into the hood and straightening said hood over his head, as he moved adjusting the pack under his cloak, he was far too angry to scribble his queries on this journey, with youth there may be great recklessness in youth, and this was present in Symon and was only growing with his fidgeting anger, as his face remained a laxed neutral same. They didn’t have to wait. And yet they did.

Symon proceeded to go back into the INN towards Figoro and Melius’s room. And knocked briskly on the door, he could hear them arguing about something or other, harsh whispers made it hard to understand but they stopped when he knocked. Figoro opened the door with a jaunty manner and tone

“Aha! And there you are, getting quite impatient are you boy? I have seen you pacing with quite a flurry-”

This was more than enough for Symon to go off into a tangent of spewing casual mumbles

“Of course one cannot help but be impatient- other than the fact I forgot my staff- this is a goose chase with no given proof of this book man, - His being alive - Your information….that sparkly merchant man’s information- it makes no sense, not enough for me to trust your word-“

Symon was then cut off by the merchant’s one by one even if they were struggling to understand him as he strode into the apartment

“Yet-! You signed into a contract.” Quipped Melius waving a finger tautly

“Not really~ a contract. But unless you want that thing-“ Figoro swayed around from the door closing it.

“-That book!-”

“-Right-right! You want that book. We have the information that will loosen the grips….on the boo-…Mr. Novikov?” Figoro suspiciously looked at the dark cloaked bodyguard who was staring grimacing at the floor, then in a next instant he stared at Figoro and Melius,

“There are other ways, to loosen fingers, tongues, and even joints.”

The words wisped from his mouth like smoke lightly clenching his twitching fists, Melius and Figoro both were not impressed by an angry twitchy youth, but Figoro went to calm him down when suddenly the curtians drew themselves. And something was rattling about. In the darkness Symon could hear Melius yelp in harsh whispers to the other merchant that something just ran across his feet.

“Tell me you sniveling errand running pansies! Where is that book!?”

Symon barked out in a dark deep tone, filled with rage, but then it melted back into a neutral expression with a hint of twitching between both eyes, he seemed revolted with himself for wearing out a bark to them, but Figoro and Melius stayed close to each other wondering the sanity of their presumed bodyguard.

“N-Now see here.” Melius was coming to grips with being the one to wear the man pants “Nothing you can do will scare us Novikov! until our task is complete-“

Melius let out a yelp as a skeletal hand was clasped around his ankle. Figoro barked at Symon;

“Stop this foolishness! It will get you nowhere! you will be in quite a lot of trouble if you defy the task you were set lad!”

Symon clenched a hand to his head but kept a hand outreached at the skeleton arm “….Just rot.”

Figoro and Melius closed their eyes tightly Symon’s words echoing around them, hearing an immense sound of creaking jingling clashing of something, and then when they opened their eyes, the staff was gone. The curtains were open the window was open and blowing Symon was gone. They were both alright, but Symon on the other hand was far from alright.

The blonde haired youth kept one hand on his staff the other on his head, the migraine had returned, so much it would cripple him to his knees if he let it, he did not know what to do, in his foolishness he might have ruined the only chance he had, now he may have more after him, he mumbled irritably to himself in a steady stream while shuffling down the street to a street-side food shop. For the past few days all he had been inhaling was very poorly made alcohol from a pouch, or tavern ale, it was rather what had been doing this entire trip, wasn’t quite used to being without his nanny who reminded him to eat something that qualified as food.

He briskly walked past Laya taking not much attention of her, or him, he wasn’t too sure of the build of the person. He just tossed a few sovereigns from his pouch at a nearby vegetable vendor-keep and picked up four fresh carrots, he didn’t say anything to the store keep but just motioned for him to keep the extra. Regardless of thanks he exited and then moved to an alleyway, or somewhere darker than where he was putting the carrots away into a bag under his cloak.

Septimus
04-26-2010, 06:42 PM
When Raphael at last boarded the Strahl and the crew cast off their lines the authorities were not far behind. Even as the ship began to pull away the man could hear the thumping of heavy boots and shouts to stop and all manner of other ridiculous commands that no man in his right mind would obey when running from the law. Mikhail was already gone below deck with his charge and the blond healer but Raphael remained by the rail, smiling that bright smile and waving at the man as if they were friends biding him goodbye. In return the guards sent a volley of crossbow bolts after them. One might have even hit the captain had he not turned slightly away to dodge it with nigh impetuous ease. The angle of the bolt’s flight were all off anyway and the velocity carried them well over the vessel and into the ocean on the other side. They were not out of danger yet though. There would be cannons fired upon them so long as they were in the bay. What they needed was a good wind to take them out quickly and no sooner did the man think that then a gust of wind brushed over his face.

“Ah…” He spoke aloud to himself, closing his eyes a moment in simple enjoyment of the feel of that wind against his skin. He always loved it when mother nature worked along with him and though he was no druid he thanked her for the gift that would speed them away. That done he turned toward the vessel and fell easily into his roll. “Right men! Full sail, let’s not waste any time getting out of here while they all prepare their cannons, shall we?”

He strode across the deck, taking note of the conversation the big Norgard was having with one of his crew. When he passed them he was just in time to hear the threat delivered with perfect confidence from the large man. Green eyes flashed in an instant of irritation but it was quickly quashed, pushed aside to be dealt with later. For now they had to get out of here. So he continued past as if he had not heard, taking the steps leading up to the helm two at a time. The man at the wheel stepped aside without comment, knowing that until they were out of danger Raphael himself would be guiding them. He had done so before and never once had he failed to do so. Not that there was any doubt to be had now. With a strong wind filling her sails the Strahl was the fastest ship in the waters, uncatchable and that claim had been proven many a time. Any vessel they sent out after them would be left behind before they even left port and by now most everybody knew it. But it wasn’t a ship they had to outrun this time. It was cannon fire.

They heard the distant booms as those long guns started firing but not a man among the crew looked up from his task to see the large balls flying through the air intent on taking them. They were a hardy, seasoned bunch and this was not the first time they had heard such things while departing a pouch. More than that they felt they had little to fear for their faith in their captain was absolute. His decisions may be subject to questions at times but never was their doubt that he would guide them toward victory. Here he was in his element, here he was untouchable and the sight of him on the helm, calmly steering the vessel through a series of turns and angles to make it even more difficult to hit, it was plain to see. He didn’t just believe he would escape the town and their cannons, he knew it. As if his hand was guided by lady luck herself he never doubted the outcome. A couple times it was very close, of course. The railing splintered where one of those large iron balls struck it and went clean through and a few men even had to duck lest their heads catch one to a disastrous effect that no one sought to test. It wasn’t long before they had gotten out of range for the guns, however, and Raphael relinquished the helm for his shipmate once more. He strode back down the deck amidst happy pirates and general cheers for a good day of fun.

Mikhail was on deck by then, striding about and barking orders as was the usual for him. Of the two passengers there was no sign but if the fiery paladin had truly been poisoned the healer would no doubt have her work cut out for her. Ciara and her brutish friend were standing off to the side, wisely keeping out o the way of the men performing their trade. It was toward them that Captain Sinclair strode. Mikhail would handle the rest of the ships duties with the crew and these two passengers of his had yet to mention exactly where they were going. Or maybe they had and he simply wasn’t listening. Didn’t really matter.

“That’s very endearing of you.” He quipped the moment he came within ear shot and war graced with the Norgardian’s words of protecting the bonny lass. There was little humor in his voice however and again those green eyes flashed with a hint of danger as he regarded the larger, taller man. “However, if you threaten my crew again you’ll find it difficult to make due on that promise when I throw you off my ship.”

His attention turned to Ciara then, dismissing the man for now as it was she who had bartered for passage in the first place. With her his voice slipped back into something kinder, something softer and perhaps even a bit enticing. “Now then. You said you needed a vessel and now you have one. Where did you need to go?

“Our journey takes us to Ascara.” The woman replied after a moment’s pause as she looked between Arjack and the man she thought to be Timothy Perriwinkle. Her eyes shone with something, an emotion the captain could not quite place. "We've business to attend to there."

“Ascara then. We’re no doubt headed in that general direction anyway.”

Just as he finished speaking the door leading below deck opened and that innocent young healer stepped out amidst the flurry of activity as pirates who were mistaken for merchant sailors labored away. With a quiet word Raphael excused himself from the pair with promises to talk later when there was more time. He headed over to the woman and as he approached that smile returned, bright and inviting.

“I trust your friend is all right? I’d hate to have gone through all this trouble only to lose her anyway.”

Mysteria
04-26-2010, 08:32 PM
Ciara was aware that Arjak was standing beside her but did not turn her gaze from the direction of the port. Her mind was focused on the woman who had been hurt. Had a healer not been present then Ciara would already have been offering whatever limited services that she could to help but since the healer was present Ciara hoped to put her skills to use elsewhere.

The huge ship was moving out of port as the guards were doing everything within their power to prevent the ship from leaving. Although Ciaras druid powers were still limited and she had not yet mastered many aspects of her powers, the one thing she could do was appeal to the great earth mother. Ciara turned her thoughts inward as her lips formed words that the others could not hear. Ciara smiled knowing that the great mother had granted her blessings upon this ship as she heard the rustle of the wind filling the sails.

Even though Ciara had been focused on the events happening around her she had heard every word that Arjak was speaking to her but the captain had once again approached them, first speaking to Arjak which made Ciara smirk slightly. At least this captain was not afraid to speak his mind to the Norgard and Ciara was grateful for that. Then he was speaking to her, his tone much different with her than it had been with Arjak. It would have been impossible for Ciara to not notice how he smiled when he spoke. After a brief exchange of words and a promise that they might speak further later after they were out to sea and he had attended to other things Ciara watched as he moved towards the woman called Wren. Ciara definitely needed to speak with him further as the matter of what this voyage would cost them still need be addressed.

Finally alone with Arjak again for the moment Ciara turned her attentions back to him, disregarding everyone else flurrying about the ship as she recalled the words "I protect you, Ciara, because.... you are something worth protecting. Very few things are in this day and age. I also have a debt of honor to you. You saved my life when you did not have to, so to balance the debt, I am to keep you safe. Either way, I'll be damned if I see you get hurt. Your skin is not for stitches, and I intend to keep it that way. You can say as many harsh words and utter as many curses as you do bloody wish. You can flay my back with one of your dirks, but I will not be driven off until after my debts are repaid."

Ciara regarded Arjak in a different light for the first time since she had met him. There standing on the deck of The Strahl she began to gain some measure of respect for him although she would be damned if she was going to display that to him, or at least she would try not to too much just yet.

The truth was however that his words had touched a spot inside of her that Ciara herself had prevented anyone from allowing to reach for many long years now. Her features softened as she reached her hand up and placed it upon his shoulder, all the while not looking directly at him. She did not apologize for her earlier actions however. Her usually calm voice was tinged with just a slight touch of sadness as she spoke, a sadness which she hoped would not be recognizable to Arjak or any one else aboard The Strahl "Arjak I do appreciate that you feel I am worth protecting and I understand that you feel you owe me a debt but I assure you..." Ciaras voice faltered only for a second before continuing "I assure you that you owe me nothing. I did no more than what I would hope any one else would have done had they been present when the shadows tried to take you."

Ciara thought for a moment before saying anymore, it was obvious to her that she needed to word what was on her mind in a way that the stubborn Norgard might understand and in a way that would not make it sound like she was unappreciative of his kindness towards her. Lightly squeezing his arm Ciara turned to face the Norgard the sun glinting off of his golden eyes. He was brother to the wolf, and despite herself Ciara did find him to be handsome, if not even slightly caring. "It would please me greatly Arjak, if you would not consider yourself bound to protect me because you feel that you owe me a debt."

Ciaras voice softened then "If you wish to journey with me and in the process protect me, then please I would ask that you do it as my friend, and not because you feel you are bound to do so. Could we at least agree upon that?"

StormWolf
04-26-2010, 11:21 PM
Before Ciara had the chance to offer her rebuttle to what was said, the large Norgard heard the voice of the captain chime in. There was a brief flash of danger in Arjak's eyes, a look that said that he was just as ready to run the captain through as much as shake the man's hand.

Arjak turned to look the captain in the eye, his gaze cold despite the fire in them from the rays of the sun. The captain's words held little ground with Arjak, most of them rolling off of the Norgard like rain on a window. Throw him overboard? Bah! Arjak supressed a smirk, watching the captain turn his attention to Ciara. Could the captain even lift Arjak, let alone throw him? Ah, that's right, that is what the captain's posse was for.

Arjak turned his golden eyes back to the sea, watching the land get smaller and smaller as the body of water between the shore and the ship grew larger. He allowed himself to close his eyes and breathe in the scent of the salt air, smiling faintly at the unfamiliar scent. The large Norgard's smile slowly faded as he heard the voices of the wolves fade into nothingness until they were completely mute. Everything seemed so quiet without their songs.

He was snapped from his reverie when he heard the silk-soft voice of Ciara brush over his ears, making his smile return slightly. He turned to look at her, staring into her eyes, feeling the warmth of her hand on his shoulder. His eyes refused to fall from hers during the enitre time she said her piece. The Norgards ears picked up a small waver in her voice.

"It would please me greatly Arjak, if you would not consider yourself bound to protect me because you feel that you owe me a debt."
Her voice was even more beautiful than the wolfen songs he has grown to love so much. Arjak's hand crossed his chest, resting atop Ciara's hand. The Norgard smiled.

"If you wish to journey with me and in the process protect me, then please I would ask that you do it as my friend, and not because you feel you are bound to do so. Could we at least agree upon that?"

"Of course, mi'lady. As a friend... yes. I will protect you." His smile stayed as he guided Ciara's hand by her side, his callaused thumbs brushing over her soft knuckles. Arjak took a moment to take her all in before looking her in the eyes again, his golden irises flaring in the sunlight before leaning against the railing of the ship, taking a deep breath of the sea air.

"A wonderful marvel," he looked back at Ciara, "A beautiful and dangerous thing, just as alluring as she is intimidating. Makes me wonder what I was missing my entire life..." Arjak shook his head and cleared his throat, looking to the horizon... "The sea..." he cast a sidelong glance at her before refocusing on the ocean.

Anne Bonny
04-27-2010, 06:09 AM
Wren made her way up to the deck of the ship, the feeling of excitement building inside of her. It wasn't just the prospect of setting off on an adventure with Helena. It was the rush of adrenaline left over from their flight from the Port of Hope. It was the friendly swaying of the ship beneath her feet, reminding her that they were safely away. It was the beaming pride of conquering the most severe case of poisoning that Wren had ever dealt with - alone. And it was the bond of comradery that she already felt towards the burly Norgard man, the beautiful woman at his side, the captain and his first mate who had all come to their rescue without question.

She pushed open a door that lead into the sunshine and Wren stepped out onto the ship's deck. Sailors were rushing here and there, laughing and celebrating their victory as they worked. It took her only a moment for her eyes to settle on the Timothy Perriwinkle. But before she could make her way to him, the captain met her gaze and flashed a smile that made the tempo of her heartbeat pick up a bit. Feeling slightly giddy and slightly foolish at her own excitement, Wren returned his smile as the man made his way toward her.

"I trust your friend is all right? I’d hate to have gone through all this trouble only to lose her anyway."

"It was close, but she has great strength. She's resting now, and she'll be fine," Wren replied with a nod. "Thanks to you and your crew, of course. If it hadn't been for you, Helena and I both would be dead. I still can't believe you made such short work of those paladins! It was amazing!"

She was speaking too quickly, Wren realized as she paused for a breath. She was behaving like a child, gushing over the battle with wide eyes and a racing heart. Take it easy! she told herself.

Clasping her hands in front of her to keep from fidgeting, Wren looked down at the deck before turning her eyes back up to the man in front of her. "Forgive me, Mr. Perriwinkle. In all the excitement, I've forgotten my manners. I'm Wren Avari, and my companion is Helena Leviticus. We were hoping to travel to Ascara when we were attacked."

Perriwinkle opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by another man calling over to him. Wren turned to see the same man who had carried Helena onto the ship. The man approached, gesturing to a broken railing not far away.

"Captain Sinclair," he started, "damage report. Looks like the railing got the worst of it. There are also some scratches where we were grazed on the stern..."

The man continued to speak, but his words were lost on Wren. All but the first two that had left his mouth, that is. Sinclair... she was heard that name before. One of the men in the tavern had said it when pointing Perriwinkle out to her. "...and not just any pirate! Sinclair was one of the best!" he had said in his slurred speech.

Her green eyes moved from the first mate back to the captain. That didn't make any sense. The men in the tavern had said that Perriwinkle had killed the pirate Raphael Sinclair. That was why they had been celebrating in the pub, wasn't it? But as the two men spoke of their ship that had just outrun cannon fire, realization began to creep over her. Would a merchant be so willing to take on a group of holy warriors? How would a trader even be able to make it out of such a battle without a scratch? It wasn't even very likely that a business man would be the one to bring down a pirate either, Wren reasoned.

She fought to keep from twist her hands together in anxiety as her stomach began to also twist itself into a knot. And now they were out on the ocean, with Ivalor growing smaller and smaller at their backs. A ship full of pirates! What had she gotten them into?

Her worries were interrupted when the other man (Mikhail, he had been called) moved away and the pirate turned his attentions back to Wren.

"Captain," the girl said slowly, "why does he call you the name of the pirate you said you killed?"

The man smiled in return. That brilliant, handsome, carefree smile that had made Wren feel short of breath only moments before. Only now she couldn't help but feel as if she were a lamb looking into the teeth of a wolf.

"Good question," Sinclair simply returned.

The urge to escape his piercing, emerald green eyes was overwhelming, and it was all Wren could do to keep from taking a step back away from the man. Instead her mind raced for an excuse to leave their short conversation before she began to panic. Finally Wren's gaze found the other two passengers on the ship and she found her out.

"If you would please excuse me, I haven't thanked our other heroes yet," she said. If the captain responded, Wren didn't hear it. She was already taking a few steps in the others' direction.

As she walked across the deck, Wren took several deep breaths to control herself. Panicking wouldn't do anyone any good, she reasoned. Besides, pirate or not, Perri... Sinclair had still helped her and Helena. The fact remained that if it hadn't been for him, neither one of them would be drawing breath now. But she had heard her fair share of horrible tales about what pirates did to the women they captured. Raphael Sinclair had seemed to be quite the gentleman earlier on, but would that change now that they were trapped out at sea?

Oh God! And I left Helena alone in one of their beds! Wren suddenly realized. She hadn't even locked the door! The girl hesitated. Maybe she should go back and check on her. But she was only a few steps away from the other two passengers... Did they know what sort of crew they were traveling with?

Wren approached the pair and squeaked out a "Pardon me" to catch their attention. "I hope I'm not interrupting," she said, forcing a smile, "but I wanted to thank you for helping me and my friend. Your courage is incredible."

She introduced herself and paused, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder to see if Sinclair was watching. "I had barged in on your conversation in the tavern," Wren said to the statuesque woman before her. "If you don't mind me asking, were you just looking for transport, like us? Or do you know the captain otherwise?"

Hagelmand
05-01-2010, 06:25 PM
Caleb tied his hair into a ponytail, at least he could get rid of the heat on his neck, and at least now he was wearing lighter clothing, and no cape to show his affiliation, it was better to do so most of the time, Tamur had become more dangerous, and even though he didn't have much fear of someone trying to take his life in the streets, he was fully cautious of people who fought with words, but wished the agents of the law dead all the same.

He was now waiting, that was the worst part of his job, those dull moments of inactivity when all he could do was think and talk to himself while other people gathered information he couldn't find and moved the papers he couldn't move and many other things he couldn't do because he was pretty much just a hired blade, not that he minded, the pay was good enough for one man to sustain himself and he wasn't too big for people to want him dead, yet he still had the protection in those not so rare cases when he had to break the laws.

All he could do now was see the people pass by in front of the dusted stone bench he was sitting on, the poor men and women and their children carrying cases or running around with merchandise to sell or the food for the day, the merchants of all kinds and a watchful tramp or a thief looking for some easy money. Then there was one man mumbling to himself, with unkempt curly hair, a stubbled and scarred face, and dirty rags of clothes. Caleb turned his face cautiously to see the man, and he took the time from talking to himself to eye Caleb, he nodded at the mercenary and put a hand inside his dirty tunic, pulling out a piece of white cloth and holding it from a corner, there was something written on it.

The man dropped the piece of cloth to the sandy ground, and went away into a dead end alley, while Caleb took a few coins from a bag inside his tunic and left them on the bench, as if they had gotten loose. He moved away into the streets, the cloth in his hands, he could see the mumbling man calmly strolling towards the coins, grabbing them, and walking away, he wasn't talking to himself anymore.

Caleb made his way back to the manor, if only to report his findings, there wasn't much else than that for him to do there, Blademasters worked alone, he didn't complain, but thankfully he didn't carry those teachings into foreign lands.

Later, after he went into the manor, he had made a plan to leave, his Master had sent his permission to act on Alexandria, and now he was waiting transportation, rumors were that the murderer of one of their Blademasters was now going for bigger game, someone from the royal family. He hoped the horses were fast.

Kris
05-02-2010, 01:05 AM
Somewhere in Chanclera

Rays of silver glittered upon the dews on the leaves within the great forest that was the kingdom of Chanclera, just mere hours before the sun parted from his royal cave, into fighting the night demon to set its place on the sky, taking over his sister's, the moon's throne.

But even as the day drew near, aside from the moon that hanged above like a jewel and some stars that were not covered by gray clouds, the surroundings was rather gloomy, or more to say a great mess of pitch black.

And into that great darkness they dashed, bunching up and down from tall grass like grasshopper. Their shadow landed on objects such as small rocks or piece of land before quickly fading, allowing the half moon above to shine over the, now visible, places.

Untrained eye would not notice their movement, and that of course was requested, otherwise they wouldn't have earned the title of an "Elder". Aside from some small animals that just so happened to be in their way, no one noticed them, just as they sought.

Once that one of the shadows that was most advanced in distance stopped, the others followed, forming themselves into something that resembled a circle. They were five, all dressed in black, most of their figure hidden by some dark clothing.

"Were you followed?", asked the first in a firm voice.

He watched as the others looked from one another before once again turning to look at him. All nodded to disagreement.

"Good", said the first again.

"This is rather odd", said another man. As he spoke he drew closer to the first man who spoke, half his face visible, an eye patch on his right eye, strips of brown hair covering his other, "We hadn't met in such formality for such a long time, is it a time of war?"

"Please, Lord Ivan, I'd like much to hear what did sir Collin has us gather here for".

Ivan gave half a glance toward the woman who stood not far from him, her feminine figure visible even with all the cloths she was wearing. He backed away and returned to where he was placed.

"Thank you very much Flora", said Collin, "Now, before we move on, I must ask if anyone is not aware about the recent deal we made"

"Are you referring to the deal we set with the mage messing with the dark arts", asked another man.

"We are dealing with a necromancer?", Flora gasped, she quickly passed her eyes over the group, trying to judge their stance, "Is this some kind of a joke?".

No one dared to answer her.

"Oh, so you all knew of it, is that it?", Flora's tune was full of rage as she looked at one particular member, "Why was I, an elder, spared of this information? Was it because I were a new member-"

"Think little of this", said Ivan interrupting her words, "I've found out only recently too"

"Yet you still knew that-", said Flora and once again her words were halted in her mouth as Collin raised his hands to silence the group. No matter how furious she was, there was no way she was going to speak against Collin. She knew better.

"It is something that we wish not to brag about from obvious reasons. Anyone who deals with dark arts or even mere sorcery will be accused as betrayer to the clan. Unfortunately, we were left without a choice", said Collin his voice still firm, but weaker then before.

"The shadows…", someone said.

"Exactly, sir Tylor", answered Collin.

Flora then turned to look again at the figure she previously gazed at, "What's the matter, Rosabel, I was sure you and your cousin were taking care of those beasts", she teased.

Collin sighed, "Rosabel, will you step forward please".

Flora face's twisted with rage as the figure passed over her.

"Let us see you, Rosabel", ordered Collin again.

The figure removed her cape, revealing shoulder length pinkish hair and slender figure with greenish skin, handsome clean face and brilliant red eyes. It was difficult to guess the gender of the figure from just one glance.

"Your hair!", barked Ivan, "I was sure it was crimson the last time we met"

"Thank you, Rosabel", said Collin, and the figure turned to dress again and withdrew from the light.

"I don't understand", said Flora.

"Rosabel and Lierioan are from the few who survived from the ancient race of Chanclera, the race that still held powers from his link to the great spirits. Their appearance resemble the forest, and they remained eternal, aging like a great tree", said Collin, "Until certain age they will mature but will stop growing, and their hair color will be the sole way to state their coming death, and just like Lierioan, who's hair is already full gray, Rosabel's hair color has faded. Soon it will lose its color completely"

"Are you saying that…?"

"Yes, sir Tylor, she is dying", said Collin.

A moment of silence passed before Flora spoke up again, "It's… truly unpleasant news, Rosabel, but seriously, between that and making a deal with a necromancer-!"

"We found out that the only way to hurt those fiends of evil was by magical means, Lierioan and Rosabel were requested to this task because of this, but, we will soon lose them both. We could have developed some kind of a backup plan, but more and more people are killed every day and I have the population of Chanclera to consider, beside the clan. Out of us all, Flora, you were the most radical in your opinion about turning for magical aid. We couldn't let one nail to harm the whole project".

"So…. Are you saying we use forbidden way to solve our problem?", said Flora

"Indeed"

"So Lierioan…?"

"Was only the requested option. He is isolated, hated by our people, acts on his own and one of the few still alive to carry the blood line of the ancient Chanclerian, meaning that he has the most potential to harness magic… and beside he didn't put much of a fight against it"

"So if you are so sure of the plan, why are you telling us all of this?", asked Ivan.

Collin took a deep breath and the ones present could hear the groan that followed it. He then removed something from his pants' pocket, "This", he said and tossed what seemed to be a scroll to Ivan.

"A letter…?", Ivan opened it up and quickly passed his eyes over the words that were written upon the page, "He is… requesting our help?"

"That can't be, Lierioan would never…", said Tylor.

"Exactly", answered Collin.

"When do we leave, sir?", asked Ivan.

"Right about now. There is already a boat waiting for us. I don't want to hear any complaints. Whoever feels like doing so, may already remove himself from the title of an elder"

No one answered or talked back.

"Good, now follow me"

***

Ascara- Capital Alexandria

Cronus was finally at the gates of the capital. Unlike many others that were forced to halt and present passport or other documents he was only welcomed with a quick wink as he was brought in without any struggle, like as happened in any other town he visited.

It seemed that Emonalach did his best to allow him to get to his destination without much of a trouble, but for that reason exactly he felt somewhat angry with him. It didn't feel right to get that much ahead without using his skills, or slicing a throat or two. Nevertheless, he did realize that Emonalach didn't mean to play any unnecessary games. God, that man was creeping him more and more every new second.

The first thing Cronus noticed was the economic state of the capital. Like the name suggest the town was indeed livelier and richer then any previous town he was in within the range of this continent. Guards in red uniforms were patrolling everywhere, but most of them seemed to be goofing around, playing some card games or hanging around places where hooker or two were peeking outside rather then actually doing what they should.

In many areas beggars were leaning against the town's walls, some of them missing body parts such as arms or legs, while small children were taking care of them as they earned a coin or two from people passing by. Cronus noticed that only foreigners bothered to open their wallet and donate. Sadly one got his bag stolen while searching for small coins.

"This town only looks in good appearance, but is actually very poor. Does the Sultan aware of this… or is he the one behind it all?", said Cronus in low voice.

"MAHAHA, now that's a very ridiculous thing to say young man".

Cronus turned around and noticed a very thin man, who looked like a pile of bones with flesh, sitting on a red ragged carpet, while crossing his boney legs. He was bald and had rather ugly white beard. His eyes were covered by a white blindfold. He recognized him as a citizen of Ascara for his tanned skin. Beside him was a small sealed basket that its cover moved slightly from time to time.

"What are you laughing for, old man?", said Cronus and moved closer to the guy.

"Your accusation of the Sultan, of course", said man.

"So… He doesn't know of this?"

"Of course not, it's that damn high men in commend fault. They steal from us, but sadly the town is unable to resist"

Cronus consider the man's words, "How can you be so sure?", asked Cronus.

"Oh, please, I'm blind, not deaf and definitely not a fool; I lived from before the city was enclosed by those damn walls. I know many things…."

"Oh, now do you?"

"Of course, I even know about the demons the soldiers are trying to hide from us, but they ate at us every day I tell ya…", said the old man.

It was around that time that Cronus realized he must be dealing with a mad man. He could have walked away, but something urged him to toss a coin to the man. One the ring that was heard the moment the coin hit the man's small can silenced, Cronus turned away, allowing his dark cape to flip behind him as he walked.

"Be wary of these fiends, young man… Be wary of their master too…"

Cronus gave one quick look at the man and watched him play a flute as a small green snake burst out of the basket to amuse the people around, earning himself extra coins by doing so.

***

Parting from Ivalor- Raphael Sinclair's ship- Day 1

With a startle Helena opened up her eyes to realize that her head was resting upon a pillow while her body was set upon unfamiliar bed. She quickly got up, but the rushed movement made her to be aware of the pain in her shoulder. The recent events quickly passed within her mind as she recalled where she was and what she was doing here to begin with.

She looked at the mark that was now replacing the wound she received to protect her friend. The mark seemed permanent and it was unpleasant to the eye, but Helena welcomed it the same way a warrior will honored a medal, for wounds were a soldier's badges.

However, deep down inside Helena knew that this was marking more then just wound, but rather a living proof that someone wished to care for her, and for that she will treasure it forever.

Helena then tried to get up, feeling uncomfortable of lying down without doing anything, but found out that she was unable to even sit properly.

Biting her lips, she knew it was too soon for the poison to fully heal yet, and she needed to rest. The weight of her armor suddenly became noticed by her too. Again she bit her lips. If it were any other situation she would have done her best to try and stand up.

Slowly she began to remove her gear, allowing her weak hands to fell upon the comfortable sheet. She hesitated some more and then removed her breastplate and other body equipment such as her boots.

With nothing but a yellowish silk gown that she always wore below her armor and leather tight pants, she returned to lie down on the bed again. It took her more time to finally close her eyes, still feeling unsure to be so exposed to attack and not being fully dressed, but at the end she gave in, and her blue eyes slowly closed themselves as she let herself relax for the first time in many years.

Mysteria
05-04-2010, 02:59 AM
Aboard the Strahl, headed for Ascara



"Of course, mi'lady. As a friend... yes. I will protect you."

Ciara smiled then, a genuine smile. The Norgard was finally losing that stubborn streak. When it came to stubbornness Ciara knew that it could be both a blessing and a curse at the same time and there was a time for it to be a good quality, and there were times when it was not such a good quality. She regarded Arjak in a slightly different view as his golden eyes gleamed in the sunlight and to her surprise she had not pulled her hand away immediately when he took it in his own. His hands were large and warm and Ciara didn't even mind the callouses on them.

Calloused hands were hands that were not stranger to being used and for this Ciara could respect the Norgard even more. It had been a long time since she had felt a mans touch upon her skin and she allowed herself that luxury for just a moment as she stood there smiling at Arjak, the sun glinting off of her raven hair.

They both had turned to lean upon the railing and look out over the sea. The sunlight danced in beautiful reflections off of the water. It had been a very long time up until this recent journey since Ciara had seen the tranquil waters sprawled out in front of her as they were now. Ciara became lost in her own thoughts. It had not been since...The sound of Arjak's voice brought Ciara back into the moment.


"A wonderful marvel," a beautiful and dangerous thing, just as alluring as she is intimidating. Makes me wonder what I was missing my entire life..."

Ciara turned then smiling at Arjak as she looked at him. She couldn't have agreed more. The sea was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen in her life save the forests of Chanclera. Suddenly Arjak shook his head, clearing his throat, and looking to the horizon... "The sea..."

Ciara had begun to reply with "Yes, the sea, she is a beautiful thing." When the one named Wren approached and in a rather timid voice said "Pardon me, I hope I'm not interrupting, but I wanted to thank you for helping me and my friend. Your courage is incredible."

Ciara turned to look at the blond who was now standing in front of them with a beautiful smile upon her face. The pale skinned woman was beautiful in contrast to Ciara's own dark skin.

Smiling back at her Ciara said "You are not interrupting, please join us will you not? And please, we did nothing that we would not wish others would have done for us had we been in such a situation. "

The healer introduced herself and followed with "I had barged in on your conversation in the tavern, if you don't mind me asking, were you just looking for transport, like us? Or do you know the captain otherwise?"

Ciara extended her hand in greeting as she spoke, that warm smile never fading from her lips "We are making a quest from Chanclera to Ascara." Ciara did not yet wish to divulge too much information until she was certain the healer could be trusted so she continued "We found the captain in Ivalar after having traveled there from Chanclera and I was just speaking with him when it was revealed to us that your friend was in need of assistance."

Ciara left go of the womans hand then and turned to Arjak introducing them both as she did so "My name is Ciara Anstruther and this is Arjak al'Andunn. Ciara waited then for Arjak to address the healer.

Arjak dipped his head and pressed the knuckles of his right hand to his brow in some kind of bow. He raised his head and looked at the smaller blonde woman that stood before him.

"Well met, Lady Avari. As Milady Anstruther said, I am Arjak al'Andunn of White Forest. I hope your friend is recovering well and I hope you were not harmed."

"She will be alright, thank you," Wren replied. She paused, nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "I don't mean to cause alarm, but you helped save our lives and it's only right that I tell you..."

The girl trailed off and took a quick glance over her shoulder to be sure there was no one else in earshot. "The captain's name isn't Timothy Perriwinkle," she finally blurted. "It's Raphael Sinclair, the name of the pirate he claims to have slain. I heard the first mate call him by that name, and I worry that we've all been deceived."

The Norgard sighed and furrowed his dark eyebrows, golden eyes like drops of fire in his skull. Arjak folded his thick arms over his chest, veins swelling in those powerful muscles.

"I knew something smelled strange about him... Shan't have trusted him half as far as I can throw him" Arjak growled with a harrumph. The Norgard took a deep, relaxing breath and ran his hand through his dark ebony hair, resting those calloused and scarred hands on his hips. Arjak eventually shrugged and said,

"As long as we all arrive at our destination with no new scars, I do not really care who commands this ship." he took another deep breath, exhaling with a sigh, "I just suggest you two lock your rooms at night."

Ciara was surprised to find that she was in agreement with Arjak not only for the most part, but also for the first time. Ciara considered Wren's words with great thought. It seemed to Ciara that if this was indeed Raphael Sinclair that pirate or not he couldn't be all that bad considering that he and his crew had all come to the aide of Wren and her friend. Deception came in many forms and Ciara knew that sometimes deception was a necessary evil. Her own mission with Arjak had not yet been fully brought to light either so in many ways, they were being just as deceptive.

Trying both to remain level headed and quell the woman's fears she finally spoke "I agree with Arjak. Even if he is the pirate named Sinclair one must take into consideration that he did help you and your friend in time of need, and he is giving us all transport to Ascara." Ciara shook her head slowly "It is perhaps best to not judge those things which we do not know of. I wouldn't worry too much about it until he gives us reason to warrant worrying over it." Ciara smiled as she reached out and touched Wrens arm in a comforting gesture "I promise that you will be safe while Arjak and I are near, and my friend..." Ciara pointed to the top of the main mast where Reyes was hovering nearby "He will help to keep watch too, so as you can see, you are more than safe."

Ciara looked to Arjak not sure if she should divulge the information of their reasons for traveling to Ascara to the healer or not but decided that since Wren had trusted them and shared Sinclairs real identity with them, she could trust her to tell her why they traveled to Ascara.

Leaning close to Wren Ciara said "Because you have trusted us with this information I feel it only proper to tell you why we travel to Ascara. I am druid in nature and was blessed with a prophetic dream that was revealed to me which now leads us both to Ascara. Evil shadows move throughout the kingdoms and the source of this evil must be stopped at all costs. Had I not been in the forest that night, these very shadows would have taken Arjak." Ciara removed her hand from Wren and turned back to Arjak speaking in a serious tone.

"The sanctity of all of our homes depends on what we find in Ascara."

Wren nodded quickly in reply. "Helena's mission is one in the same, I think," she said. "Although it is better if she tells you about it. I am just her companion for now."

Her green eyes moved from Ciara to Arjak and back again. She could trust these two, Wren was sure of it. "Trouble is brewing in the world, not only in Ascara. You saw yourself, the paladins turning on one of their own. They wanted me because I witnessed something evil as well. Treason within the very court of Camelot, if you can believe it.

"And now, since you've helped me, I'm afraid I've put you both in danger as well," she added with a tone of sadness. "I am deeply grateful, but I fear we're all fugitives from Ivalor now. Maybe a pirate's ship is the appropriate place for us after all."

Laying a hand on both Wren and Arjaks shoulders Ciara said in a hushed tone "When Helena is well enough we shall speak to her but fugitives or not, one way or another we will all get through this, together."

{Co with the both ever so talented Stormie dude and Ms. Pink Lady, aka Anne Bonny}

Stream
05-04-2010, 04:44 AM
Alexandria - Capital Ascara

The capital city of Ascara was a bitter sweet pleasure. Scorching sand seemed to find its way into every little crack and crevice the poorly constructed and antique stone architecture made from years of weathering and abuse from the elements. Many of the men had beards and exotic swords, and cloths that were wrapped around their heads or worn like a veil. The prejudice against women was more than apparent, but didn't phase Cronus at all. Mostly they were used as servants, presumably to their husbands, staying in the shadows behind them as they peddled their wares at stands littering the sides of the pathways. Nothing really caught interest to Cronus, him having a luxurious taste. The best offerings were tattered and patched robes, or coarse and dusty rugs. Only a fool would shop here.

The walk to the Sultan's palace was more entertaining than any snake charmer could've been; beggars swarmed around the foreign-looking assassin, hoping that he would find it in his heart to spare a bit of gold. Many of them were covered in scabs from daily abuse from whipping sandstorms, and all had dark, leathery skin from the scorching heat. Sickening was an understatement for how these people looked. Slowly though, as he progressed closer to the palace, the assassin could tell the subtle - and not to subtle - differences in the two areas. The wares were a much more high quality, and signs of constant construction and repairs were apparent. Women were absolutely no where to be seen, no doubt relaxing in luxurious villas, sheltered from the heat and the impoverished hooligans of the outer districts. The men were dressed in what seemed like ceremonial nobleman's robes, or at least Ascara's take on them. Clean and vibrant white robes shielded the men from the rays of the sun, and the translucent white silk canopies that covered nearly every part of the district gave everything a soft creamy hue. The men were groomed, and their skin nearly flawless.

"I could get used to this sort of life," the assassin remarked, "but I would be a happy man if that damn sun were to fizzle out and never shine again."

Sounds of rushing water became more prevalent as the assassin entered the royal gardens district. Pearly tiling covered the ground, and the same milky canopies covered most of the area. Glinting gold and silver trimming adorned the flawless marble carvings that made the interior, with pillars and arches rising high above the incredibly fortunate people allowed inside of this place. Most wore darker, more extravagant robes, and their skin was completely flawless, showing little time spent in the heat of the sun. Cronus couldn't help but notice how much he looked like the people here; no doubt foreshadowing from Shylock. His skin looked just dark enough under the canopy to pass for an Ascarian, his black hair only complementing his tone. His robes, though foreign to the impecunious people, were standard among the noblemen here. No doubt his now fattened coin purse was helping. The women dressed themselves in more revealing clothing, rather than just their eyes being shown, they had the good fortune to dress as the men did in loose robes and colorful blue sashes. Many of them had tied back or styled hair and were adorned with jewelry and gems.

Soon, however, Cronus had entered the palace's proper, where people danced and celebrated god knows what, probably made-up holidays to take their minds off of the struggling and dying people outside of the district's limits. Wine flowed like a river as did the most precious resource of all in these desert lands; water. Fountains and manmade water falls lined the walls, rushing outside to baths and pools where the nobles merely had the freewill to bathe and enjoy the water as they pleased. Scandalously dressed women roamed the area, no doubt concubines or servants to the lecherous sultan, conversing with the men and serving drinks. The Sultan's royal bodyguard patrolled the area in brilliant white uniforms and gleaming silver armor, scimitars and finely balanced swords strapped to their waist. Cronus made a mental note at the dedication and discipline of the guards; none batted an eye at the advances of the concubines, nor did they drink any wine. They stood stalwart and still at their posts, their trained eyes scanning the party goers for any foul play. Immediately the assassin picked up on this and quickly weaved through the guests, blending with the crowd while simultaneously advancing towards the sultan's throne room. Before he could reach the arched entrance though, his majesty entered, carried by his servants on a mobile throne platform.

"Welcome honored guests of Sultan Abad Al Aziz! Rejoice and relish in the fine luxuries our benevolent majesty provides for Ascara's treasured elite!" the apparent royal suck-up called.

A chorus of cheers bellowed from the ground as spilled wine saturated the ground, raised glasses with dark red substance dripping from the rims. The elderly looking man smiled and motioned his arms for the crowd to silence, the rambunctious group surprisingly ceasing immediately. The bodyguards had all bowed as the Sultan entered, something Cronus took note of, but the nobles seemed to full of themselves to show any such act. The Sultan didn't seem too bothered by it; his lengthy reign of leadership had given him a reputation as a wise leader who wouldn't be bothered by such small acts. People formed a line in front of the platform in order to exchange words and give gifts to the man; anything ranging from exquisitely crafted silks to dazzling embroidered jewelry and gems. Cronus forced his way to the front, knocking several people aside. The woman at the front of the line was knocked away by the two bodyguards that stood at guard next to the sultan, their spears pointing into a triangle at Cronus. The sultan smiled and pushed the weapons away, slowly rising from the podium, leering over the assassin. The crowd seemed to gasp in unison, and out of his peripheral vision Cronus could see the flock of people bowing immediately.

"Eager to exchange gifts with me, I see, or is it words you're wishing to exchange today, young one?" the Sultan spoke in a low tone.

Reaching to his waist, Cronus produced the writ of assassination, still sealed, and handed it over to the sultan.

"A mixture of both," he sneered.

The elderly leader slowly opened the scroll, dropping the red silk wrapping to the ground, unravelling the translucent sheep's skin. Cronus could see the fine ink markings from his side, though it read as gibberish. The facial expression on the sultan turned from a calm, condescending smile to a sneer, a few laughs escaping his lips.

"You dare enter my domain, insult me and my guests, ruin my evening celebration, and threaten my family?" the sultan spoke, snapping his fingers. Two bodyguards immediately appeared behind Cronus, hooking his arms and dragging him away.

The sultan and the crowd laughed loudly as the assassin was dragged away back through the entire palace and its garden districts, inciting gasps and disgusted looks from nobles the enter journey out. He was tossed outside onto the sand in the middle-class district, receiving mixed glances from the men outside. His robes were dirty and dusty now, and his reputation and status as incognito squandered. With a sneer he looked back at the twisting arches of the palace, staring up at the arch Shylock had specified as the quarters of Jasmine, the Sultan's daughter. Blood would be on the soon-to-be-elder's hands today. He retreated into a nearby inn to wait out the remainder of the day.

Later that evening, dusk

A cold breeze whistled through the now empty streets of Ascara, only the faint sound of running water to be heard. Light poured through multiple windows in the gardens district, though the night was more than enough cover for Cronus. A breeze blew the hood of his new cloak off of his head, revealing changed robes and bathed hair. His dagger and shortsword stayed strapped to his side, the hilts wrapped in dark cloth to minimize glinting. His coin purse was missing from his waist to cut down on any sound made by him. His eyes radiated a smoky blue aura as the moon's light shined down on him; the namesake of the Lunar Fang. The night was an assassin's best friend. It was their domain and they were near impossible to defeat in it. Some speculate that the moon actually gives them powers beyond anything a mortal has seen; the ability to disperse into moonlight, only to reappear behind their targets for just a moment's time, time enough the strike down their prey. The assassin's gaze remained on Jasmine's arch, expertly searching for any hidden paths to his target. An assassin is trained at birth to spot paths that no one else can see, giving them the advantage of surprise. Cronus smiled lightly, pulling his hood once more over his head, taking off into a sprint in the direction of the palace. The moon lit his path to Jasmine. His prey was just within climbing distance.

Septimus
05-12-2010, 04:33 PM
There was tension upon the deck of the Strahl as the crew looked on at the captain and his first mate while they stared one another down. The watched one another carefully, taking in all their was to notice and trying to predict the others intent. It had been a long time since they stood on opposite sides and yet here they were, opposing one another. There could only be one victor, unfortunately, and the other would fall into the shame of defeat. Around them there were a few mutters, a few people talking amongst themselves as they considered who would win. Raphael was a wily one and though he was not particularly strong he had speed and agility in spades. He used everything within reach to his advantage. Mikhail, by comparison, was a swordsman of years more experience. What he lacked in speed he made up for in strength and iron determination and, most of all, they two had fought alongside one so long that they knew the other quite well.

“You know I can’t let you defeat me.” Raphael declared, his green eyes narrowing as they watched the man for any sign of weakness, anything he could take advantage of. But Mikhail was an implacable opponent and he simply shrugged.

“In contests such as this skill matters very little, Raphael. Its fate that will decide who wins the day.”

“Well then I see no reason to keep her waiting do you? Let’s finish this little charade.”

For just another moment the two men remained motionless, their hands at the ready. Their eyes met and narrowed at the exact same time and then with a joined voice of ‘HA!’ they slapped the cards they had been holding to their foreheads down onto the deck. Eyes turned to Raphael’s first, the king of spades was a nigh impossible card to beat and yet when they looked in turn to Mikhail’s they found themselves staring at the face of an ace of hearts, making the first mate the winner. The crew immediately went up in a chorus of cheers as Raphael tossed his hands in the air, exclaiming all manner of accusations toward the cards, fate, and the very game itself. It was all in good fun though and it wasn’t long before the two friends were clasping arms in congratulations.

Despite the worries of his wayward passengers who had managed to uncover his true identity, the journey to Ascara proved uneventful and surprisingly safe considering the nature of the people they sailed with. They encountered no vessels and if Ivalor had sent out ships in pursuit there had been no sign. Not that they could have hoped to catch the Strahl anyway, for she was a vessel of Raphael’s own design and made for speed. It had been several days since their grand escape and they were nearing their destination now. In fact within the next couple of hours the port of Ascara should well be within sight and they would have yet another adventure upon land in a city where everyone wants to kill or at the very least capture him.

The passengers spoke little to him, no doubt afraid by the reputation of the dastardly pirate that he was. The lovely Wren, in particular, seemed very averse to speaking to him. Every time he approached she grew tense and nervous, fidgeting with her hands and trying to be as polite as possible. He never offered anything but friendly smiles and kind words but that didn’t seem to matter all that much. He couldn’t blame her, he supposed. It’s hard to see a man beneath the reputation that had been painted him and his was far from good. The Paladin was recovering well at least. Mikhail had been down to check on her a few times. Once he must have walked in at the wrong moment because it wasn’t a few seconds before he came bolting back on deck followed closely by a glass vase aimed directly for his head. The crew still laughed about all the angry screams and yells the woman had made that could be heard even from the crow’s nest high overhead.

All in all it was an easy trip, one that Raphael had given for free since he had come into a good deal of ransom money recently and was in good spirits when the topic of price did arise. He had asked Ciara and her Norgadian friend just what business they had going on in Ascara but neither had been very forthcoming. He supposed he could ask Wren… but she trusted him about as far as she could throw a cannon ball and by the look of her that wasn’t very far. It seemed that this would be just another mystery in life, something he was simply not meant to learn. He had to wonder though… just what awaited them all where they were going?

Kris
05-22-2010, 08:56 PM
Ascara- Port Town of Tamur

The bird made it's way through the night, beating it's wings so calmly that the sound coming out of it's feathers resembled that of the wind it used to fly upon. It's color were the same as his current surroundings, dark with some strips of red. As it passed beside any light source it's figure could be spotted upon the ground as small shadow, but only for a moment.

It passed some distance until, with a swift movement, a hand was sent to grab the little creature. It made a weak sound before it was brought before his capture. The bird only needed one moment before realizing who the man was. With a nod, it lifted his head, revealing a small scroll that was tied to it.

The man slowly removed the thing from the bird, reading the encoded words that said, very briefly: “We come for you”

***

"Lierioan?”

There was no sound. There was no movement.

And yet the old Necromancer was already used to the new guy at his house. No one would notice him, but spending time with his guest has sharpen his senses. He could now tell when the man was in, and when he was out.

"They are here”, said Lierioan after a moment of silence.

"What?”, asked the Necromancer as he got up from his poor looking wooden chair, dropping everything he was holding in the process.

"They are here, all of them”

"Why is that?”

Lierioan tossed the small piece of paper at the desk beside the old man before moving closer to where he sat. Lierioan then grabbed the same chair and turned to sit down, digging his head within his hands.

"You seem nervous”

"It's Rosabel's hand writing. Maybe it's something they don't wish me to know about and she is warning me... I don't know anymore, and I don't like it”, Straighting his gaze and looking directly at the necromancer Lierioan narrowed his eyebrows and wore an expression of anger, “You should run from here, old man, I fear for you”.

"But...”

"The training is over. I'll pass the knowledge to Cronus when the time comes as planned, that haven't changed”, said Lierioan firmly.

"But you haven't masted that skill yet”

"Don't belittle me, old man”, said the assassin, getting up, “I think that I can pretty much continue on my own”.

The Necromancer chuckled, “Isn't it foolish to call ME old man.... Mr. Lierioan?”

Lierioan smiled, “How long did you know?”

"Don't belittle me”, winked the necromancer, “I can tell much about one's life... and yours... were long...”, The necromancer paused, “...and reaching their limits, I'm afraid”

“I can't say that I'm not touched by the fact that a necromancer care for the life of an assassin... I guess life are always full of surprises”

"Where would you go?”

"They will contact me. Even if they do plan something, the elders are still playing fair and will give me some time to prepare myself... I still wonder what could have urged all of them into coming here...”, Lierioan was already at the door when he stopped at his place, “Take my advice and flee”

The necromancer chuckled again, “I am without words. Lived long enough to see an assassin cares for the life of one of my kind”.

Lierioan smiled, “Maybe if it was another age or time things were different....”, and with that he was gone from there.

"Yes... Maybe...”, called the Necromancer after him, knowing full well that this was the last time they both shall ever meet.

***

Aboard the Strahl

Some knocks at the door were heard before the man entered the chamber. Helena looked at him, however didn't seem too much bothered by his presence. She remained to sit upon the bed she had been occupying long enough to called hers without making a move.

"You learned to knock?”, She looked away from him.

Mikhail could have talked back, but decided to hush for now. Moving closer into the room, he realized it was the first time she was not covered by any blankets or sheets. Her hair was somewhat more in order too, and she seemed more lively then ever. He could have taken some more time into studying her, but he decided not to make any mistakes this time. He had about enough with her rage for his life.

He put the trail of food he has been carrying with him, a thing which she thought was only an excuse to come and visit her, and was about to leave when he noticed her expression.

"Something wrong?"

Helena looked at him, a gentle smile upon her face, “I am always troubled, Mr. Bartholomew, today however, I allow you to see it”.

Mikhail considered her words before saying, “I see....”, which was the best thing the man could actually come up with as an answer.

"I believe that now I treat you as another furniture surrounding me”

Mikhail seemed to remember why he could have never make a decent conversation with women. They were always so confusing, "Uhh... Thanks?", he said rubbing his head.

Helena smiled and looked away, “Understand it as you like”.

"There it is again”, said Mikhail, “That face”

Helena fold her hands together, “I believe I could talk my heart out, as if no one is beside me”

"Please do”, said Mikhail, and noticed that Helena was still not facing him, “Lady Avari is tense. When I asked her if there was anything troubling her, she would apologize for making me worry, and leave me to rest. Though we spent little time together, I still believe the healer is easy to read. Something is bothering her”, Helena then turned to look at Mikhail.

The man felt uncomfortable with her sudden stare that he decided to fold up his arms and try his best not to cross gazes with her, “And?”, he said, trying his best not to show any emotions in his voice.

"I thought the captain might have done something to her”, said Helena with harsh voice.

"Is that so...?”

Helena nodded, “However, the captain is far too noble to act like a brute... Alas, I noticed that both Lady Anstruther and Lord Andunn are kept away as well...”

"You don't say..." , said Mikhail, who was once again out of words, but had the will to show that he was interested in whatever that was on the paladin's mind.

"I think they are all hiding something from me... I am at last recovered and we are about to depart Mr. Bartholomew, So I believe I will learn the truth soon enough...”, Helena smiled, “It was silly, I shouldn't have bothered you with my thoughts”.

"Helena...”

"Please, Mr. Bartholomew, I believe I requested you not to address me so intimately”

"Miss... It's not very often we see a female paladin”

"Rightfully so, there is little of us serving and usually women of the holy order aren't sent to battlefields or outside of formal units with considerable protection”, said Helena, “The thought of allowing an enemy to seize a woman as a war prize is always kept in mind”

"Then what was your superior thinking sending you out alone with naught but a healer as your single companion?"

"Are you worried for me, Mr. Bartholomew?”

"Damn it, Helena, stop calling me by that stupid name!".

Silence. Mikhail realized the error of his last words. He looked at the lady beside him, praying that she might have missed it.

“....”, Helena, however, was too smart for her own good, “... It's not your real name, is it?”

Anne Bonny
05-25-2010, 07:44 AM
(copost with Septimus!)

The salty ocean breeze blew a few strands of light hair across Wren's face before she tucked them back behind her ear. The girl leaned on a railing of the bow of the Strahl watching as the dark land mass that was Ascara grew bigger and bigger in the distance. She had heard the call from the watchman some time ago that there was land ahead and had moved to see for herself. And now it seemed the party was very near their destination, to Wren's surprise.

The girl drew her lower lip between her teeth as she considered her behavior over their journey. Upon finding out that they were traveling with Raphael Sinclair and crew instead of the pirate's slayer, she had expected him or his men to... Well, she had to admit that she wasn't sure exactly what. Something sinister. But now that they were all safe and sound and rapidly approaching their destination, Wren began to feel a little foolish.

She turned, her eyes sweeping the deck until she spotted the tall captain talking with a crewman not far away. And before she could change her mind and decide to duck back into the safety of her and Helena's cabin, the girl started moving forward.

She waited quietly for a few seconds for the two men to finish their conversation before Raphael Sinclair turned his green eyes to meet hers. "Captain, I feel I owe you an apology," Wren said when she had his attention. "You've been nothing but kind to me and Helena, and in return I've given you the cold shoulder this entire voyage. Even after you risked your life and that of your crew, I judged you by your profession. And now with our destination just ahead, I realize that I was wrong to do so."

An eyebrow arched upward at the unexpected apology, and Sinclair remained silent, holding the nervous girl's gaze for several long seconds before finally shrugging. "No harm done," he replied. "You are far from the first to do so."

Wren turned her eyes to her feet, considering her next words carefully. "It sounds like a very lonely life then," she said.

That roguish smile lit up the captain's face again. "It's a free life," he said. "One free of restrictions or rules. I live on my own terms. It's enough for me."

She found herself smiling back, finally feeling a bit of relief from all the tension she had been holding in for the entire trip. "Where with you go after you've dropped us off then, since you are free to roam wherever you wish?"

He shrugged again, a nonchalant gesture that gave the impression he had little in the way of plans. "We won't be welcome back in Ivalor anytime soon. Might stay in Ascara a day or two for supplies and the like."

Concern spread over Wren's face. The last time he had been into a port town he had nearly been caught. That was what had lead into the entire Perriwinkle mess. "Is that safe? I mean, you won't be recognized?"

Again the pirate smiled. "Perhaps eventually. Wouldn't be the first time."

"No? I envy your courage," Wren said quietly, sinking back onto her heels. She suddenly felt very small next to the carefree captain, who's response to the threat of capture was a grin.

But Raphael glanced at her, silent as he took her in. "You are traveling with naught but a single paladin as your companion, facing God knows what." He paused, looking out towards Ascara. "I would say you have courage a plenty."

Her face grew hot, and Wren quickly looked away, hoping he wouldn't notice. "I'm just trying to do what's right. It doesn't mean I'm not afraid."

"Fear is something we all live with, Wren," Raphael answered, his eyes still focused on the port growing closer and closer ahead. "A person is brave not because they are not afraid, but because they overcome that fear and do whatever they must."

She nodded and fell into silence for several long seconds. Finally, a small smile appeared again. "Well, I hope to be as brave as you, Raphael Sinclair."

He turned back toward her, emerald eyes lighting up with amusement. "From terror of the seas to heroic idol. What is the world coming to?"

Wren found herself laughing. "Indeed. I'm even starting to enjoy your company!" She began to blush again at her own words, afraid she was being far too bold. But still, the girl plunged forward. "It's a shame we don't have more time to get to know each other."

Raphael grinned. "Well," he began slowly, "Assuming your quest does not take all your time, we plan on being in port a few days. Perhaps you would allow me to take you to dinner."

Her smile widened, and inwardly Wren fought to keep her composure instead of behaving like a giddy schoolgirl. "I would like that," she replied, trying to sound casual. "I'll try to keep Helena in town long enough."

One of the sailors brushed by her shoulder, making Wren jump slightly. She had been so focused on the captain that she hadn't even realized that they were nearly to Ascara. The crew was beginning to bustle around the ship, preparing Strahl for her entrance into the port.

"I think I should go let Helena know we've arrived," she said, taking a step away from the captain.

"Goodbye, Wren," Raphael called after her. The girl found herself smiling as she made her way towards their cabin, thinking to herself that she liked the way her name sounded when he said it.

Mysteria
05-27-2010, 07:48 PM
Their time on the Strahl passed quickly and in that short time Ciara had begun to feel a common bond with the healer Wren and was certain that when the time was right, she would come to know the paladin Helena. Ciara had yet to be formally introduced to the paladin but it was of no immediate concern. As was with all things this too would happen in its own time.

Ciara had become accustomed to Raphael Sinclair and his men moving about the ship. Although there was yet to be any mention of what the voyage would cost her Sinclair hadn't appeared to be in any hurry to name his price. When she had found a moment to approach him about it again Sinclair had flashed that brilliant smile of his and said "For you? No charge." before glancing at Arjak and finishing with "but him? Ciara blushed slightly before leaning up and kissing the captains cheek. "You are more than kind sir and I'm certain that whatever price you chose will be agreeable."

With those words Raphael’s bright smile broadened "I can think of a couple of methods for you to give that payment...but we'll just say twenty silvers and call it even." Clara’s blush deepened as her dark eyes danced and sought out his emerald orbs. Her hand moved towards her waist and removed the satchel holding her coins "Well then for now kind sir this should be sufficient" she said as she pressed forty silvers into his warm hand. His generosity was admirable but Ciara was already thankful for his kindness and would not hear of not paying for them both, no matter how much the good Captain would have liked to have argued with her.

Having settled with the Captain Ciara found Arjak standing at the edge of the ship. Her time on board the Strahl had left her with a deeper understanding of the Norgard and although his stubborn ways had reminded her of another she had kept reminding herself that this was Arjak and not someone from the past. Not only had Ciara found herself seeking out his company more often now that they had come to an understanding she had also found that she was beginning to enjoy his company. Albeit he had his stubborn tendencies, he could also be rather charming at times in his own way and there was something that almost seemed regal about him. That was something that Ciara hadn't yet put her finger on.

Resting her hand on his forearm Ciara turned her head towards Arjak as she herself stood with her back against the railing. His golden eyes glinted in the sunlight and for a moment Ciara was captivated by his gaze. Unlike past moments she didn't even try to move away. There was something comforting felt within her when her hand rested on his strong arms. Ciara’s eyes clouded for a second as her memories pushed into the front of her mind. It had been far too long since she had felt that type of comfort, it had been....

Shaking herself she smiled at him saying "Our passage has been taken care of now. For now until the ship arrives in Ascara, we can relax a bit." Ciara moved closer to him and kissing him on the cheek quietly said "And thanks Arjak, for making this journey." Quickly she looked away as she continued "And for being here with me."

Arjak looked down at that pretty face that Ciara had, a small smile working its way on to that stony face of his. His midnight black locks blew gently in the breeze as his eyes flared in the sunlight. The silk-soft touch on his arm sent a tingle over his skin and a shiver down his spine that he had not felt for a long time. It was pleasurably invigorating. Then there came the kiss on the cheek, the touching of that tender rosebud against his strong face, the stone melting away.

"I cannot think of a place I would rather be, Ciara." he said as warmly yet as firmly as he could manage. He picked one hand up off of the rail of the ship and placed it over Ciara's hand, the contrast of size and texture almost completely opposite.

"Thank you for putting up with my mule-headed nature, Ciara... I don't mean to be difficult, I just... well, when one is constantly surrounded by power-hungry mongrels, one has to be stubborn..."

Ciara smiled at the Norgard and didn't even attempt to move her hand away when his large warm handed rested on top of hers. Squeezing his large hand with her dainty hand clasped between his two Ciara couldn't help but remember the last time she had felt a man’s strong hands holding hers. The smile faded from her lips quickly as she diverted her eyes from his that had been staring so intently at her but when he mentioned power hungry mongrels she looked back to him.

"Power hungry mongrels? I'm not sure I understand Arjak." Ciara questioned softly. Was Arjak of some royalty as she had suspected? Not wanting to press too far she added "And its okay Arjak, we all tend to have our stubborn sides sometimes I guess..." Once again Ciara's voice trailed off as she looked away. Stubbornness was a trait she'd had to deal with before and it was a trait that had ....

Ciara shivered as though a cold wind had just swept over her. Arjak took notice of this and furrowed his brow slightly. Over the salty smell of the ocean, Arjak could smell some kind of distress wafting off of Ciara. His hand left hers and rested under her chin, turning her head to look back at him,

"What troubles you, Ciara? If you tell me, perhaps I can help..." Arjak's voice was comforting and smooth compared to his usually gruff and rough tone. His hand cupped her face for a moment before brushing a lock of her hair behind one of her ears.

Ciara's eyes searched his for just a moment relishing the feeling of his warm hand against her face even as she realized she must have subconsciously given him an indication that something had stirred deep within her. His sudden display of compassion moved her. Trying to offer up a smile she simply said "Merely a memory from the past Arjak. I'm sure you understand about the past and memories well enough?" Ciara turned from him then and once again leaned out over the railing of the Strahl. "The past has a way of coming back to haunt our memories from time to time. Some things are better left there though, don't you think?"


{co with Stormie dude and with input from Septimus}

StormWolf
05-30-2010, 08:29 AM
"The past has a way of coming back to haunt our memories from time to time. Some things are better left there though, don't you think?"

Ciara's soft voice filled Arjak's ears as she turned away from him to look over the rails of the ship. The Norgard's eyebrows pulled down into a frown; he wasn't so simple that he could not tell when someone was trying to brush something off and put up a wall. He knew because he did it often.

"Aye, I do think so..." Arjak began, his deep voice warmed from the heart as he reached out to her, his rough hand resting on her shoulder. "But I also firmly believe that if you confront the haunting past, you will overcome it, and you will own it, and in turn it will no longer haunt you." he gave her shoulder a light squeeze, "And I will help you, however I can."

Ciara stood leaning on the rail of the Strahl, listening to the words Arjak said to her and feeling his hand on her shoulder. Reaching her own up, she rested it on top of his as she stood there with her long raven hair blowing away from her face in the wind. She knew that Arjak was correct but there was a part of her that had refused to move on after Brennus was killed. And he was killed due to his stubbornness and that had made Ciara mad. She had not forgiven him for it yet. She had not been able to move on and the Norgard reminded her of him.

Tears welled in the druid woman's eyes as she remembered and her lithe frame shook for just a moment as she blinked back the tears. Here was a man who was trying his best to be kind to her, to be caring and by her own self same stubbornness she was keeping him at arms length. Those self made walls had been built so high that they it would take a very strong man, a man like Brennus himself had been in order to pull them down. And Ciara could see Brennus in Arjak, and that worried her.

Something about Arjak reminded her of Brennus. Brennus had been royalty, and Ciara could spot that in anyone and had even sensed it in Arjak. It was in the way one carried themselves and even though Arjak hadn't said it, hadn't told her about his past before arriving in Chanclera she had her suspicions.

When she finally turned to face him she was glad for the wind now blowing her hair around and in her face as it helped to hide her damp eyes. She spoke then in barely above a whisper "I know you will Arjak and I thank you for it." Ciara was not yet ready to talk about it and certainly not yet ready to discuss it with Arjak. He had once asked if the solitude did not drive her crazy. She could not explain any more now than she could then why she felt the solitude to bring her such solace. Then forcing a smile she said "You remind me of someone I used to know Arjak, in many ways, someone from the past. Speaking of which, you never answered my question." Stepping closer she said "And no matter how much we wish to hide things from our past, the trained eye can see into the past, can't it Arjak?"

Arjak's face softened when he looked Ciara in the eyes. His keen gaze saw the redness around her irises, and he felt a twinge of pain in his chest. Arjak placed his other hand on Ciara's other shoulder, looking her in the eyes for a moment as she closed the distance between them. This close, Arjak could smell the conflicting sadness wafting off of her. Saying nothing, Arjak wrapped his arms around her and held Ciara tight against his chest, his thick and powerful arms holding her like she was the most precious thing under creation.

"An eye trained enough can see anything it wishes, Ciara." Arjak whispered in to her ear as he gave her a small squeeze, his hands stroking her silk-soft hair as it fell down her back.

She inquired again about what he meant by 'power-hungry mongrels', and Arjak was taken aback. What would she think of him if she knew he was a noble? Would she push him away, see him as a corrupt swine?

Arjak's arms fell and pushed away from Ciara gently, turning away from her this time. His hands gripped the rails, and the wood creaked under his grip.

"Ciara... are you sure you wish to know.... who.... and what.. I am?" he asked, choosing his words carefully. So many thoughts cluttered his head. He knew what he wanted when he looked at Ciara, but his heart conflicted with his carnal desires. She tempted him, yet he desired her in a more mature way.

"I am... I don't want to drive you away. I would never want to drive you away..." he looked over his shoulder at her, clearing his throat.

Why she hadn't pulled away when he pulled her close she didn't understand. Perhaps it was because Ciara was beginning to quickly realize that they were both too stubborn and too proud for their own good. Or maybe it was just because she had spent so much time alone lately that she welcomed his touch even for just a moment. His voice had changed and had a calming soothing effect on her.

That quickly changed too however as at the mention of her question he pulled away, turning from her, throwing questions she did not understand at her over his shoulder.

Placing her hand on his shoulder she replied "Yes, I do Arjak. We have a mission that will test both of our wills to deal with soon. We need to harbor no secrets from each other." Then gently turning him back towards her she continued "You won't drive me away."

She bit her lip thoughtfully for a moment then took a deep breath as she contemplated her next words. "I know I've kept you at a distance but it's only because I knew someone like you once. He was very much like you and some of the traits that I see in you are traits that he had, and it is because of those.." Her voice trailed off slightly before she found it again and looking him squarely in the eyes she finished "It is because of those traits that he has passed on to be with the Allfather." Ciara hoped that by revealing a part of herself to Arjak that he too would do the same.

Arjak sighed and stood tall, his wide shoulders rising and falling with his deep breath. He turned slowly to look Ciara in the eye. His hand took hers and he wetted his throat before he spoke,

"I am Arjak al'Andunn, the Stormcaller. Thane of White Forest, ruler of one of the cities under my queen. My father was Perrin al'Andunn, the Thane of White Forest before me." he took a deep, shaky breath. It was now in the open. The leather band around his head had been explained to Ciara.

"I have no wife, no heir, and I have no brother to replace me should I die... If I fall, my mother and my sisters will be taken, ravaged, and killed..." Arjak's lip trembled for a moment before it cracked into a snarl, "and I'll have my soul burned to ashes before I let that happen." Arjak gently squeezed Ciara's hand. The four winds started to blow without rhyme or reason for a brief moment, as if the weather responded to his emotional turmoil.

"I have no more secrets to keep from you, Ciara, other than secrets of the flesh"

Ciara listened carefully to his words which explained what she had sensed. Smiling at him she said only "Then neither of us have secrets to bear any longer Arjak. And now I understand why you remind me so much of Brennus. Not just one of his traits are within you because like you, he too was of royal blood. He too was prince of his homeland."

Turning back to the railing Ciara no longer felt the burden she had carried within for all of their voyage thus far which was coming quickly to an end. They would soon arrive in Ascara. Turning to Arjak she smiled, a sincere smile. "Our journey has just begun."

Arjak smiled warmly back at Ciara, nodding in agreement as he sniffed the air. The scent was slowly changing as they drew closer to the mainland of Ascara. For the first time in a long time, Arjak felt like he had found someone outside of his family that he could trust, someone that he could care for.

"Aye, and what a journey it shall turn out to be."

[copost with my lovely Mysti]

Hagelmand
06-01-2010, 01:12 AM
[Copost with Stream]

One thing Caleb always enjoyed about Alexandria was that nights were always cool, even if in the worst parts people slept with the windows locked, if they had them. Even with a wise sultan, royalty was never too bothered with the poor, Caleb didn't think much of kings or emperors or sultans, even less after he saw that half the world was just the same.

The horse that carried him was left at the base of the Blademasters in Alexandria, an even smaller place on the outside, just a small home on the edge of the city, with only a few men inside that didn't help him out a lot.

He had to approach the palace by foot, it wouldn't take too long, getting lost on the way to the tallest and biggest building in the city was a difficult task.

Caleb wasn't the most agile man, but often finding himself having to run away around deathtrap buildings made it easy for him to get around, he made his way to the palace grounds, fixing his half-cape for easier recognition among the guards.

The gates were closed, and security was lax at the moment, the palace guards were changing shifts. He didn't have the time to wait, he'd have to go straight to the princess' room, and get himself some recognition on the way, once he managed to save the spoiled daughter of the sultan from an assassin.

It wasn't an easy climb, at least for him, he was growing old. There had been a rebuilding of areas in the palace, and stairs made the way for the part of the walls where the princess' room was. He deftly entered from outside, and soon enough he had his hands on the hilt of his scimitar, his eyes quickly going from the dead body of the princess, to the two men with ready swords, one of them was Ariel, or at least matched closely the description from what his contacts had given him.

“This would be awkward if I wasn't a Blademaster,” he drew his sword, if any shape shifting magic was involved, there wouldn't be much use for words.

Cronus had been standing at guard against Ariel, all three men now squared off with weapons drawn. What a great combination; three killers for hire in a stand-off around a young girl's dead body. Awkwardly the assassin shifted from Ariel to the new guest.

"I don't suppose you were here for the girl too?" he laughed.

Ariel laughed along, backing slowly away from the two.

"No, my ignorant friend, he's here for me…" he snapped, lowering his sword and staring the blademaster down, "hello, Caleb."

Caleb approached the princess' body and gave it a quick glance, her open eyes were empty, and even in the dark, the blademaster could tell she was dead.

"Hello, Ariel." he said, and flame turned into his scimitar, "And who's your companion?" he asked, "He seems to be as fond of you as me."

Before Ariel could answer, Cronus quipped in, falling into place at Caleb's side.

"My name isn't very important right now. What is important is that you're in a very advantageous position right now. You want to kill this assassin. And I'll allow you," he said smirking, "for a bit of help when you're through."

Caleb frowned at the assassin, and side-stepped away from him, separated flames trailing away from his scimitar, uncharred and unchanged by the flames that gave the room a dim lighting. He wouldn't trust a man so easily, but among assassins, loyalty was a trivial thing, an unspoken subject, asking if they were together would lead nowhere but to a waste of precious time.

"Fair enough." he said, he couldn't afford to let Ariel escape, and Cronus wasn't a priority either way, if he wanted to make an escape too. He lunged at Ariel, making an attack to his leg, the assassin blocked it, but drew away from the fire as best he could, but it wasn't enough, Caleb tricked him with a feigned lunge at Ariel's face and kicked him to the ground, where Caleb stabbed him in the chest, quickly drawing his burning sword out of the dying man, who whithered and cried in burning pain. He should have thought about that.

"What did you want now?" he asked Cronus, sword ready, just in case.

The assassin laughed to himself at the display of fighting and the utter failure of Ariel. He turned to Caleb, motioning his hand towards the body of Jasmine.

"Pick her up. We're going to take her and have a nice discussion with the sultan," he said, sheathing his sword.

Caleb frowned, and he wasn't about to sheath his scimitar, he was trying to figure out just what motives Cronus had, and if he really cared. He had already done what he came to do either way.

"Fine, but I'll have to kill you if the sultan sees me."

The blademaster wasn't doing it out of gratitude, but to avoid being framed. He moved over to Jasmine's still warm body, and even if she was dead and pale from the blood loss, she was still a beautiful ghost. He picked her up, the princess was far more light than he thought.

"Let's get going."



The duo had walked a fair deal toward's the sultan's quarters, prolonged by dodging guard patrols and sentries stationed around the spires. Several citizens, most likely nobles themselves, had stuck around to enjoy the more fruitless pleasures of flesh and wine in the gallery.

He stopped just outside the sultan's quarters, turning to Caleb.

"Now's the time to run if you choose; leave the girl with me. This talk's going to require some privacy."

"You should hope it's me who finds you if you kill the sultan, I'll make it quick." he dropped the body, and soon enough he backtracked a hall into another of the construction stairs, and off into the night, whatever happened now was not his business, his was done.

Stream
06-10-2010, 05:42 PM
A shadowy silhouette circled around the edges of the Sultan's bed, the old man seemingly undisturbed by the intrusion. Cronus could see the man's sheets rise and fall rhythmically as he breathed. His quarters were exceedingly grand, with gold trimming on nearly everything. The bed was oversized enough for just a single man to sleep in, though it could no doubt fit half of his submissive harem. There sat a darkwood nightstand to the right of the Sultan, with several jeweled rings, an ornate and glassy dagger, and a latched wooden box. It was common sense in assassination to make sure your target had no means to defend himself. Cronus slipped on a golden marked band and snatched the dagger away, slipping it into his sash. Delicately the assassin gathered the stained red mound of sheets, Jasmine's lifeless arm hanging out of it.Being sure to not disturb her father, he laid her on the opposite side of her father, removing the bloody sheets wrapped around her, the still-warm liquid now marking the Sultan's bed.

Cronus drew the ornate dagger from his sash and ran the blade over Jasmine's gown, cutting just enough into it to expose her chest. He ran his fingers across her flesh, pressing gently to pinpoint his mark. He traced his fingers around the previous fatal stab wound the assassin Ariel had given her, remembering the marking just in the center of her chest. Cronus raised the dagger high over his head, stepping back a bit from the body. In a lightning quick motion he plunged it downwards, the young lady's blood spraying out of the wound, covering the assassin's hand. The sound was enough to wake the Sultan, who jumped up as if waking from a terrible nightmare. Before he could scream for help, Cronus had lunged at him, wrapping his hand around the man's throat, seizing any airflow that could allow him to squeak. He forceful jerked his head to look at his eviscerated daughter, his dagger sticking from her flesh, blood oozing over nearly every exposed area of her solidly tanned skin.

"That's your daughter, if you can't tell. She is a bit red right now," he said. He laughed. "It was nice being on the other side this time. Me dragging her on the ground, to bring her here and visit you." he said. Cronus jerked the man's head back to face him, smiling sadistically. "Scream and I'll skin you alive."

Letting go of the Sultan's neck, the old man gasped for air, deep red impressions wrapping around his neck. He held his hands up to Cronus, signaling for mercy.

"Who are you?" he choked. Cronus shook his head.

"There's many of us. There were two of us tonight. I killed the other." he said. He slowly pulled the dagger from Jasmine's corpse, brandishing the dripping blade to her father. "There's more than one stab wound in her."

"How dare you! How do you plan on escaping? There's no possible way you can leave her without my guards-" before the man finished, Cronus brought the blade down to kiss his neck.

"I'm sorry, did I interrupt you? I thought I said no yelling." he said. He shot a cold look at the man before flinging the dagger back into Jasmine. "There's hundreds of us. Assassins, I mean, all working for our own motives, not perverted by money or luxury. The most dangerous kind for a man like you to face."

"You can't just come in here and threaten me and my family. I am a Sultan! You've already killed my daughter, do you expect to freely murder my sons, my wife, and massacre my harem?"

"Just your wife if you were uncooperative. Then your sons," he smirked, "I don't really think I'd want to kill your entire harem." He unlatched the box on the sultan's nightstand, revealing gleaming masses of jewelry. He pulled a diamond necklace from the bunch and placed it inside his robe.

"A murderer and a thief, I see." the Sultan said. He laughed with confidence. "I'll have you killed before the sun rises."

Cronus turned to him again with another cold glare, his eyes emotionless. Swiftly he grabbed the Sultans neck and tugged his towards his quarter's balcony, tossing his body into the stone divider.

"Who the hell do you think you are!" the Sultan yelled.

The assassin lifted the man over the divider, holding him by his slipping undergarments. Nearly half of the man's body was exposed as he thrashed and kicked into the air.

"My name is Cronus. You can call me master." He laughed.

"Please! Don't drop me! These people need me, I am their leader!" he cried.

"We can do this every single night to you. Our numbers are strong enough to slaughter your entire palace guard without a single one of them knowing there's an intrusion. And most important of all, we can plant a dagger into your chest while you sleep, and just take what we want," he said mockingly.

"Anything you want! Just pull me back up!" he thrashed.

"I want full control over your guard. And your bodyguard. I have some unwelcome guests sticking their nose where it doesn't belong, and I don't like to play fair. Detach twenty of your bodyguard and relinquish them to me."

"Yes! They're yours!"

"And I want your guards to seize a ship that should be arriving soon, if not already. The Strahl. Upon seizure, have your best sailors commandeer it, and sail it back to Ivalor to pick up a special guest. I expect ample guard for him and the hospitality you're known for when he arrives."

The Sultan began to sob. "Done! Please, I don't want to die."

Cronus pulled the man back over the railing, his body falling hard against the marble floor.

"Have the guards stationed around the market district to await my signal. Just send your guards to seize that ship on their own, I'm sure you can do that right. And sultan," he smiled, "if you do anything even remotely askew to what I said, I'll be back here for you and your wife's head."

Before the Sultan could turn and respond, the assassin had vanished.

Kris
06-12-2010, 10:33 PM
Chapter 2- Desert Reign

Ascara
It started like any other day for him: Lazy and boring. After aimlessly wandering around the markets, Graeak decided to end his daily walk routine by finding some guard who had the will to lose some money in a bet to him. Graeak had the skill for magic, but he appeared to have far more than that with lady luck.

Today, however, appeared to be different. The guards actually seemed to be working for once. They patrolled everywhere and armed themselves, entering every now and then to some blacksmith's stores and armory around.

Graeak gazed at the soldiers moving from side to side like crazy ants and when he fed up with just staring at the reality show before him, he got up and decided to approach one of them, all the while shuffling his cards in his hands.

"Excuse me sir", said Graeak, "What's going on?"

The guard stopped in his place and tossed to the ground the gears and goods he was carrying. He fixed his red robes and started to arm himself, "Can't you tell I'm busy?", grunted the man, and didn't even bother to look back at Graeak.

"What's going on?"

"New orders", said the guard and then added, "Some ship about to reach us from the sea, and the Sultan is demanding that we shall welcome it with swords"

"Why is that?"

The guard pulled his shoulders, "How should I know?"

Graeak could have let it go, but something told him that it could actually be serious…

Now he was left with the choice: Follow the guards and learn more, or stay put…

L
06-13-2010, 08:13 AM
The guard pulled his shoulders, "How should I know?"

Graeak frowned, the scars on his face rippling. He pushed off his hands to rise to his feet then brushed the dirt off his clothes. He looked around and noticed the crowd watching the scene he had created. He reached up behind his head and scratched, letting out an over the top laugh.

'Guards huh?' he said, to no-one in particular.

The crowd ignored him and went back to their normal activity.

Graeak lent down to recover the cards that had scattered on the ground. Most went back in his pocket as a set – though if any one were paying any particular interest they would have seen one specific card being slipped up his shirt sleeve. He straightened up, eying the guards.

Life had been hard the last few months. He hadn't been winning cards, hadn't sold a painting. Now he was down to his last gold piece and not even the guards – who were usually up for handing their pay over to Graeak – wanted to play.

So the guards want to take a ship and kill the crew... could turn in to my lucky day after all.

Graeak absently rubbed his right hand palm with his fingers as though he was dealing a card – something always did when deep in thought. He made the decision to follow the guards for the moment, if for no other reason than to see the guards vent some energy. Hopefully, if the right moment struck, he could also stay out of sight until the coming battle was finished and maybe become the de-facto recipient of the deceased's possessions.

He waited until the guards had started to move off then, with a quick glance either way to make sure no-one noticed and a quick check that his dagger was still in place, Graeak started to follow the guards.

Septimus
06-14-2010, 05:30 PM
With accounts settled and the preparations to make port made the Strahl floated its way inside the bay of Ascara. They took their time, navigating toward the nearest open dock where they could tie off and finally depart. His passengers had missions of their own in this lovely city, but as for Raphael and the crew they were looking forward to spending the rest of the rest and relaxation they tried to have in Ivalor. With any luck they wouldn’t be so rudely interrupted by crooked paladins or god knows what. The young pirate captain moved freely across the deck, overseeing thins and barking orders where he saw fit. Mikhail was helping the men, securing lines and whatever else was needed to prepare for port.

Green eyes spotted Wren, the beautiful blond who stood so serenely at the railing looking out over what little amount of water remained before she could have land beneath her feet once more. Helena, the fiery haired paladin, stood beside her. Having finally emerged from Mikhail’s room she seemed surprisingly fit and healthy thanks to the healing efforts of her companion. A light smile found its way over Raphael’s features. When this short voyage had begun the healer had avoided him as if he had the plague and she feared getting it herself. Now, with Ascara looming before them, they had a date. It was funny how things played out sometimes. To think that he, the feared pirate, could secure a date with an innocent, kind healer. Irony just didn’t seem the proper word to define it.

They reached the dock and as they did a worker stood ready to catch the line that was thrown to him so they could secure it and ensure the ship didn’t float away on them. They tied off and the plank was lowered so that people could start off. Raphael went first as usual. Since he had to secure payment for the space he was taking up it was natural that he head down to prepare things with the port master. The crew awaited his signal that all was in order, lounging about at the railing and looking out over harbor of Ascara. Mikhail stood with them, grey eyes glancing sideways at Helena. She was a tough woman to figure out, a difficult one to read. It was too bad they didn’t have much more time together or he would have enjoyed trying to make it passed her fiery temper to see what it was that lay beneath.

A crewmember beside him nudged his arm, pulling his attention toward him as he pointed down the docks where a force of guardsmen were stomping in unison toward their dock. He frowned, his brow creasing as he watched the fully armed and armored group turn down their dock and start toward them. The sound of their stomping boots drew the Captain’s attention as well and his conversation with the master of the docks was cut short as they stopped before him, standing in a tight formation of professional grade discipline.

The lead man stepped forward, standing at sharp attention. “By order of the Sultan of Ascara this ship, The Strahl, is to be seized and placed under guard control.”

All at once every man on board the vessel grew tense. The air went from relaxed to tight within an instant as every eye turned toward the captain. He faced an entire group of armed men so drawing steel and fighting would have been a mortal mistake. The crew couldn’t get down there in time to save him and Raphael knew it, therefore fighting was unfortunately not an option.

“What is the accusation?” He asked, his voice calm and strong in the face of these men and their apparent orders. “As I understand even the Sultan has laws to abide and he cannot seize a vessel without due cause.”

Mysteria
06-22-2010, 09:34 PM
Helena closed the door behind her. She could have slammed it shut, but felt it was not very lady like for her to do so. She wondered why she was so angry and what made her feel like a grenade which was about to explode at any given moment. More then mere rage, she felt great embarrassment and she kept blaming herself for her stupidity. Mikhail, if that was truly his name, was most likely to still sit upon the bed she occupied not long before, his gaze still dug at the floor before him, his hands crossed.

After the cat was removed from the sack, he didn't know what more to say to her, and she, on the other hand, had little will to hear. Helena was the type to trust only once and be sealed right away when tricked. She didn't know the full details, but thought it was better just to let it go. Like she did with many other things in her life... After all... It wasn't like that the two of them were close or anything, but she indeed felt stupid for....

For what exactly... ?

Her cheeks blushed all of a sudden. Her fever was gone... so why was she feeling so?

Rubbing her face gently she waited for the heat to calm down, all the while checking her pulse. No serious ill omen... so why...?

Helena's thoughts were interrupted when she spotted the tanned skin woman and the Norgard man, “Sirs, would you be kind to inform me the location of my comrade?”, asked Helena.

"I think I've seen her before with the ship's captain not too long ago”, said the Norgard.

Helena grunted. She wanted to leave the ship as soon as possible, closing the whole deal behind her. The two looked at her with worried faces and seemed to seize that something was not right with her. Helena was not in the mood for questions and so she gathered every inch of will power in order for her to look better, “I've been told about you Sir Andunn and Lady Anstruther”, she said with polite, calm voice, as she half bowed her head to them, “I am most grateful for everything you've done for me and Lady Avari.... I haven't properly thanked you sooner, and for that I ask your forgiveness”, Helena gave a weak smile, which was for her something so out of character. She usually didn't show THAT much of emotions, “Not many would rush to aid those in need. I admire your noble hearts”.

Helena then took few steps backward and gave a full bow, “I am not dressed to greet you”, she said, feeling somewhat ashamed that she left the room without equipping herself with her armor again, “But I do wish to introduce myself, I owe you at least that... I am called Helena Leviticus, Paladin, ranked Captain. It is a great pleasure to meet you, I am forever in your debts”.

Ciara and Arjak had been watching the port to Ascara draw closer as they stood on the deck when the paladin who they had helped earlier finally made her appearance on deck. Ciara regarded her quietly as she approached and began to speak. Something seemed to be troubling her but Ciara did not question it as they had just met. Ciara smiled slightly and in a soft voice offered "You are welcome, but our actions were only that of concern for one in need and no more than what we would have wished for someone to do for us had the roles been reversed." Smiling at Arjak, Ciara continued "I am sure that Arjak feels the same as I do in this regard."

The paladin then bowed, introducing herself. Ciara merely smiled and nodding her head slightly replied as she extended her hand to the woman. "It is my pleasure to meet you Lady Levictus. I am Ciara Anstruther of Chanclara and this is my friend Arjak al’Andunn of Norgard." Arjak dipped his head and pressed his knuckled to his brow in a polite bow. A paladin captain. Hearing this, Arjak tensed beneath the surface. He had never been fond of paladins; what happened in port earlier had only been one reason. Arjak hated it when people imposed their beliefs on others with force. There was no honor in murder. Still, this woman was powerful both in skill and politics, now was not the time for petty grudges, especially when she initiated with some hospitality.

"Good even, Captain." Arjak said as politely as he could manage, he did his best to not narrow his golden eyes, in fact, he did his best not to look her in the eyes. He knew the stories of paladins being puritanical. She would likely see him as some shadow-spawned devil and try and burn him.

"I hope the rest of our journey won't get any more interesting."

Helena noticed the Norgard's behavior of course, but took it as mere custom. She heard that in some civilizations it was unlikely to make eye contacts with women and so she didn't give it much of a thought. However, something was still bothering her. She recalled that in the last few days Wren tried her best not to talk of something.

"Please tell me, friends, What do you know about the captain? are you familiar with him or with this ship?", said Helena as directly as she could. She knew it was rude to ask it like this, but there were some things that didn't seem to fall right in place and she wanted to know why exactly.

Ciara eyed the woman calmly and not wishing to upset her in her current weakened state she answered as honestly as she could "I know very little about this ship or the man who captains it. Like you, we had just met him in Ivalor right before Wren made the plea for assistance in helping you. Arjak and I have a mission in Ascara, we were merely trying to secure passage there when you along with Wren made your appearance."

Helena nodded. She considered her words carefully before saying, “I think we might spend more time together then”, she said, having some doubts on rather telling the two that Wren and Herself have unfinished deals in Ascara as well. But, as long as they all stay in the city, it will give some time to learn more about them. That way Helena could be perfectly sure before telling about her missions to the two. At least Helena was willing to give them a try, that was something the old Helena was not willing even to consider.

“By order of the Sultan of Ascara this ship, The Strahl, is to be seized and placed under guard control.”

Ciara, Arjak and Helena's conversation was interrupted by a new voice. They all looked at the soldiers waiting for them at the wharf. Wren joined them on that moment, but it was hardly time for any more talk or questions.

“What is the accusation?” asked Raphael, his voice calm and strong in the face of these men and their apparent orders. “As I understand even the Sultan has laws to abide and he cannot seize a vessel without due cause.”

Arjak huffed a sigh as yet another complication tossed itself in their path. Could they not go a couple days without things getting interesting? That would be great, but there was a more likely chance of a rabbit hunting a mountain lion. The lumbering Norgard looked over at the mass of guards on the docks, then to the officer who had invited himself on the ship.

"If you lovely ladies will excuse me..." Arjak bowed again to them both before walking behind Raphael, positioning himself just to give the onlooking guards more to think of than an expert swordsman, but an expert swords man and what looked like a giant shaved bear in tow. the Norgard cracked his bull-like neck and looked the officer right in the eyes with those pools of molten gold that rest in the Arjak's head. Arjak did not have to say much with his physical build, the fact that he had arms thicker than legs of the man standing in front of him said a lot more than was needed at the current juncture in time.

{Co post with the amazing Kris, Stormie-dude, and myself.}

Kris
06-22-2010, 10:06 PM
Helena gazed at the soldiers that now gathered by the wharf. She noticed they all had the typical tanned skin, however theirs was not as beautiful or silk looking as Ciara's. They were dressed in a strong armor created from some red stone and below metallic scales shirt for extra protection. They appeared to wear extra fabric of beautiful light blue that slide down and covered their legs, instead of pants, that gave the whole outfit a toga appearance. Belts of gold held their typical Scimitar's sword which was not sheathed within a scabbard and matching golden gauntlets adorn their hands. They all wore pointed shoes that just barely covered their feet.

Helena thought them to be barbaric compared to the Paladins of Ivalor.

"I am not here to explain", said the Ascarian commander in regard to the pirate's words.

Raphael smirked, "And Yet I do wish to hear the reasons. Without any formal decree, I am afraid that we will have to simply-!"

"How's cannon as a decree sound for you?", snapped the commander and Helena noticed the ugly expression upon his face which showed that he was not very used to being talked back to.

Around that moment it was Arjak's turn to face the commander. His frame so tall and strong and confident, but the look upon the angry Ascarian caused Raphael to think it was better to solve it with words first, “Let me to handle this”, said Raphael and pushed the hulk aside, firmly yet gently. He didn't wish to annoy him but on the same time he couldn't have allowed him to act before he finished trying his way. Arjak looked back at Ciara, who nodded at him. He decided for her sake alone to drop this. However, if the Pirate were to fail then it was his fists to talk next.

"This is a mere trader's ship… surely you know we serve no side…", said Raphael with a victory smile upon his face. The whole “trader” deal will surely get him off this situation, knowing full well that no one is allowed to harm anyone from the guild unless evidences were proved.

"Trader…", a new voice called. Helena focused her eyes as she tried to find the source of it but quickly learned that even among themselves the Ascarian's soldiers could not pin out the one who spoke. Shifting her gaze quickly for another side, she noticed a man who embraced out of the shadows. Was he there all along?

"Indeed", said Raphael with calm voice but didn't seem as sure as he was before, the smirk slowly disappearing from his face as he carefully studied the new comer. Cloths of black and face half hidden, it was hard to tell exactly who the man was and what he looked like.

"I just so happen to know a trader, see…" the man started to say.

Raphael's expression was unchanged.

"I don't see any formal trader clothing on you," said the man again.

Helena's eyes widen. It was a correct point to state. She looked at Raphael with a serious expression, waiting to hear his reply.

"Isn't it right, Timothy Perriwinkle?"

Now it was Raphael's turned to be surprised. "Timothy" never existed to begin with. The man in black smirked; he liked the fact that he was able to make that proud man show some doubt, "Oh, we do know a lot about you, Timothy… Or should I say 'Raphael Sinclair'…"

The men upon the ship were half way to drag their weapons out, all waiting for their leader's order to start the fight and try to get back to sea as fast as they could. Raphael raised his left hand in the air ordering everyone to silence. He then closed his eyes as a shy smile appeared upon his face, "Who are you?"

"An interested outsider. You may call me Cronus."

"And that Trader you spoke of…"

Cronus nodded, allowing Raphael to understand that the unnamed trader was a very dangerous man to enrage and he was the one hunting him now, not the Sultan or anyone else.

"There are women upon this ship…"

"I really could care less about that…" said Cronus. He laughed. "You are not in a position to negotiate."

Raphael considered everything. The cannons talk was no joke, and he couldn't allow any of the passengers to get hurt. As the image of the fair Wren raised in his mind he opened his eyes and searched for Mikhail. Once the two's eyes met, Raphael nodded at him and then gave a smile as he raised his hands. "I'm all yours then."

Cronus nodded to the Ascarian commander who ordered his men to get aboard the ship. They seized Raphael and walked him into the deck. Mikhail ran before them and stood beside Raphael, "If he is going, then so am I", and the two were led outside the ship.

"Trying to play a hero now, Mikhail?”

"Oh, just hush it.”

Cronus however was not satisfied. He pointed at the small group of Ciara, Wren, Helena and Arjak and said: "Them too. I want them all clear of my way. Let it be jail or sent back to the sea, I don't care, just get them out of here."

"But… We can't arrest a paladin," said the commander.

Helena turned to step forward, a look of arrogance and disgust upon her face as she looked at both the commander and Cronus. Cronus narrowed his eyes as his face wore expression of annoyance, however he didn't plan to play a game of 'staring' all day, "Don't worry, she will come either way," Cronus said, understanding perfectly well what she meant by her strange approach. He still hated the way she looked at him.

When they were all at the pier, surrounded by soldiers, Cronus started to lead the way. The rest of Raphael's crew was to stay at the ship until further notice while some guards were left with them. They didn't walk very far before Cronus halted in place, “I have business to take care of now, don't follow me and proceed without me.”

"Where are you heading, sir?" asked the commander.

Cronus smirked before he vanished into the shadows, "Busy day, busy day. I need to deal with every little bug one after another"

***
"You look nervous, handsome," said the woman which hasten her steps in order to become the first to reach Lierioan.

"Flora…” said Lierioan, who tried his best to hide the nervousness in his voice, “So you all came…” reaching a quick hand for his back, he rested it upon the dagger that lied hidden there... Just in case something would go wrong. The full gathering of the elders could means only trouble and Lierioan was too old to understand it any other way. What did they want?!

Lierioan passed his eyes over the five figures dressed in black, trying his best to catch the one that was his cousin. If the elders decided to attack now, even she won't have a say in it. Worst then that, if she would be requested she would be needed to kill him as well. Lierioan looked around him. The Ascarians were too busy with their daily life, shopping, gossiping or any other activity to show even the slight interest in the company of five disguised strangers in black, but even so, they would be the first to notice if a fight was in order.

"What is the meaning of this, Collin?”

They all looked from one another, but Collin remind in his place, unchanged, unbothered.

"To appear like that in broad daylight? With people watching!” gasped Lierioan.

"Truly, Lierioan, you sounds like we are about to attack you…" said Collin.

"What other reason do you have for being here then?”

"I wish to know that myself…” Collin's eyes moved slowly, resting in their left side, without facing that direction. He then jumped from his place and dodged the piece of metal that was sent for him. Looking to where he stood mere seconds before, Collin noticed the blade. He recognize it as an assassin's. Each of the other four turned to encircle Collin, all facing different direction, weapons in their hands. Little need to say that the crowd was no longer busy as it used to be. With eyes and voices everywhere it was difficult for them to discover the attacker.

"Old age taking a toll on your eyesight?”

Lierioan was the first to notice him, “Cronus, what's the meaning of this?” he said recognizing the voice.

A lone figure stepped forward, removing the cape of her black cloak, “So you are the one who sent us the letter?” said Rosabel, her gentle pinkish hair waving in the wind.

"Huh?”, asked Flora, “I don't get it."

"Me neither," said Lierioan, “What's going on?”

"We received a scroll," said Tylor, “We thought you asked for us to come and help you.”

Lierioan turned to look at Cronus, his face puzzled, “Why would you do that?”

Cronus shrugged, “I dunno, I didn't send it. I just knew you were about to gather here.”

"What do you wish to gain Cronus?” asked Ivan.

"Isn't that obvious…” Said Collin, knowing perfectly well that if Cronus wished to take his opportunity with the meeting he didn't mean anything good.

Cronus turned to look at Collin now, “Collin… always so smart… always so scary… how I'd love to see you bleed out slowly into the sand.”

A group of ten warriors jumped out of no where and turned to attack the assassins. They were all big in size and dressed different then the royal formal guarding squad. Cronus then jumped from where he stood and placed himself right before Lierioan. “The berserkers will handle them, Lierioan! You are mine!”, They looked at one another without moving, focusing their attentions solely on each other, ignoring the havoc around them.

"When the ancients spread around the world they kept in mind their fear from the old race of Chanclera," said Cronus and was the first to break the silence, "Even in Ivalor, the priests are regarding children with red hair as a demonic omen," said Cronus. He spat. "I thought I had some kind of respect for your race, knowing that you gave up all your innate powers for the purpose of bringing glory to the guild of assassins. I was wrong and the elders will pay for it with death. Starting with you."

If anyone looked at them at that time they would notice figures melting into thin air. A few moments later the both of them were obvious to the eye again, weapons drawn and immediate to exchange blows. The other elders had preoccupied themselves with the berserkers, metal clanging drowning out all other sound like pots and silverware being thrown down a flight of stairs. Cronus could feel the eyes of people watching on him, but he remained locked with Lierioan.

"You've become… rather slow…" said Cronus. He lifted his shortsword and slashed it towards his opponent's waist, leaving a red cut in his dark black fabric. Immediately he drew back in time enough to mount a defense as Lierioan reacted with a quick flurry of stabs and strikes. A few jabs helplessly struck into Cronus' shoulders, but his basilisk scale armor was more than enough to absorb it.

Cronus pushed him away, wanting to keep him at range as much as possible. It was now he drew his curved dagger into his left hand, holding it behind him as if to leave it for a surprise. The old soldier stayed fixed on him, feigning strikes at Cronus. The assassin was unfazed.

"Boring," said Cronus. He pulled back and once again disappeared from sight. Lierioan's eyes widened with surprise, he never knew that Cronus could be that fast, however Lierioan has already sent his daggers to block the attack from behind.

"You are too predictable," said Lierioan, knowing full well that Cronus always liked to attack from the back.

"Am I?" smirked the assassin in black.

Lierioan's considered his words as his brows changed locations, but before he knew what was going on, The red 'x' that had appeared on his chest seeped blood. He dropped to the ground, half bowing, one hand sent to support himself from falling while the other was rubbing his wound, trying to estimate the damage. He couldn't allow himself to actually look at his cut and changed his attention to Cronus, "When!" he asked, somewhat disbelieving.

"I was always better than you," said Cronus weakly. He moved closer to him, "I was supposed to replace you. You chose me yourself," Cronus lifted his daggers and with quick moved cleaned the trails of blood on it, "Now, would you fight me seriously?"

"You… don't understand!", uttered Lierioan as he tried to gasp for air while coughing blood.

"I understand perfectly," Cronus said and charged again.

Lierioan moved before he was hit again however he couldn't have kept his balance in his new location and fall once more, "It's not the demons I feared… but their master."

Cronus halted for just a second before charging again.

Realizing that he might have been somehow able to draw the assassin's attention, Lierioan continued, "They have a master, the one who deals with mortal souls, the man with no hope… Emonalach."

Cronus stroke and Lierioan blocked. He was starting to match speed with Cronus, but it was too late. Lierioan was badly wounded already.

"Damn," Lierioan sent his fingers into his wound and pressed them in, forcing more blood to come out. He then started to chant as he called out for the forbidden spell. Before he could finish, Cronus struck at his arm, the fingers that had been set into his wound lopping of and falling to the ground.

"Now your other," he laughed sadistically. "Use that one."

(Co-worked with Stream, you are awesome)

Anne Bonny
07-01-2010, 06:29 AM
(copost with the amazing Lance!)

Wren had watched the entire scene unfold with growing horror. She had been elated only minutes before, thinking they had left their enemies behind in Ivalor, her friend Helena was completely healthy, and she had even captured the interest of Captain Sinclair. But as she watched his confrontation with the guards, the young healer's giddy joy completely evaporated.

The mysterious man who seemed to be their leader had disappeared, but the cold feeling that had settled into her stomach remained. There was something about this Cronus, something darker than the knowledge or power that he so obviously held, that struck great fear into her. And even as she nervously crept to Helena's side, Wren's eyes darted to and fro, wondering if the man would reappear again.

A few of the guards began gloating, now that their master had gone, spitting insults at Raphael and his crew and blatantly eying the beautiful Ciara as she moved to join them. Wren glanced up at Helena, then over to Raphael, wondering if one of them had some sort of plan to get them out of this predicament.

But when a voice hissed in her ear about escape, Wren found it wasn't from a likely source. The pirate girl who had teased her at the bar, Marguerite, was by her side, glaring at the guards around her.

"I don't know about you," Marguerite whispered fiercely when the men around them looked away momentarily, "but I'm not going to prison. Look, if we all make a run for it at once, they can't catch all of us."

Wren looked up at the girl. Was she absolutely mad? "Of course they can catch us all! There are so many of them! They will have us again easily!"

Before Maguerite could respond, though, there came a loud shout to the crew. This one not one of the Guard's insults or suggestions.

"FARAK! Farak you sad excuse for a pirate thief, you owe me money!"

A man, unshaven and shabbily dressed, was attempting to push his way through the guards. 2 of the guards had lost interest in the crew of the ship as they tried to push the newcomer back, but the man would have none of it, continuing to yell to the crew as he tried to jump over the guards arms, spin around their attempts to grab him. At one point even attempting to kick a guard in the groin – only for his foot to be met with metal. He let out a yelp, rousing laughter from some of the guards now more interested in the scene occurring behind them than the ship itself.

"That pirate thief owes me money, I want my money!" the man yelled to the guards.

He tried to jump through the 2 guards again, only to be met with 2 arms to his chest, pushing him back.

The man stopped for a second, almost considering, before he took a step forward.

That's when a guard – tired of the game now – landed a solid punch to his stomach. The man doubled over, falling to his knees, gasping for breath.

The guards laughed, then tired of the fun, turned back towards the crew; starting to throw insults and suggestions at them again.

It was then that the man – still on this knees – started to scuttle forward between the legs of the guards. First one guard noticed, then – yelling to his fellows – the others noticed him trying to sneak past. The guards descended into chaos as they attempted to grab the troublemaker.

Wren turned in surprise to watch the disruptive stranger, but the pirate at her side didn't let her stand and watch for long. "That's it! Go now!" Marguerite practically shouted.

"Go where?" Wren cried, but the other girl had already darted away. She paused briefly to tug on Raphael's sleeve before disappearing into the city streets beyond.

Pirates scattered in every direction, and the guards went into complete disarray. Marguerite was right, Wren realized. If ever there was a time to escape, it was now. Helena also seemed to agree, and she gave a shout to Arjak and Ciara to follow. Without waiting for a response, Helena and Wren moved to find Raphael and Mikhail, and the group started off together.

As the guards spread out, trying to hunt down the pirates fleeing left, right and center – including a few smarter pirates that jumped for the water, knowing the guards wouldn't follow them, the man that had started all the commotion found himself, on his hands and knees, almost alone.

He stood up, looked around and uttered a curse, as the group – headed by Helena and Wren – approached him.

The man grinned sheepishly, though the scars on his face gave the smile an almost creepy look, and said "Hi – exciting day huh?"

Repent!
07-02-2010, 02:33 AM
Zelvad awoke around midday, which was very odd even for his standards. Seeing the sun at its highest. This was most likely leading to one of two options: This was going to be the greatest day ever, or someone dies today. It was now all just a matter of where in today's web this spider stood. With this in mind, Zelvad finished getting dressed and placing Widow's Fang into its sheath and onto his right ankle. He looked at Mirrored Edge sitting and waiting to be used. Zelvad merely shook his head and walked out the door. The port was always busy so he figured he'd head there.

As he walked, Zelvad felt the wind going through his hair and against his skin as his feet grated against the earth. Zelvad never really liked the idea of shoes to begin with, always seemed to get in his way. Zelvad set up shop about an hour away from the port when he arrived in town about 3-5 months ago, so he could enjoy his walk. He came across a traveling caravan and asked if they carried any fruits or water skins. He purchased a half full canteen and two apples. Munching on one as he got ever closer to the Port city. He was about thirty minutes away and there was a boat in clear view...as well as people running about as if they were being chased. Zelvad smirked as he stashed the spare apple away in the right side of his tunic and picked up the pace to a jog, placing the apple he was already eating in between his teeth. The jog turned into a run as he remembered that his mothers food and fathers letters came in today and he didn't want those items harmed and spoiled.

However as he arrived, something new hit his ears, the sounds of blades clashing with a speed that he recognized as Master Livata's.....but more choppy and angered. Zelvad took to the second story as fast as he could and moved to the source. His eyes then came across an interesting sight. Armored individuals fighting against others in black cloaks, and what caught his attention the most what looked like a man who matched his Master's description of Lieroian: "A man whose face is new, but carries the eyes of a hundred lives." Except this man was bloody and freshly missing two fingers at the hands of the overzealous man in front of him. Zelvad tucked his hair into the back of his shirt while he slowly drew Widow's Fang while picking his targets on his approach to the injured man in the distance.

The time came and he jumped on top of one of the armored men from the perch he placed himself on. Once on he quickly jerked the man's head to the side and jabbed the blade into the man's neck, quickly moving the man's head forward and stabbing again at the base of the neck, severing the brain stem. Then he flipped over the now lifeless body and jumped off the now falling corpse's chest over the rest the fight strictly to who he believee was Lieroian and the man befroe him, spitting out the apple still in his mouth as he did so, placing the tip of the blood drenched blade in front of the man's throat. "It's bad for the balance if Spiders start quarreling with each other, didn't you know?"

Stream
07-18-2010, 11:57 PM
Cronus jolted at the intrusion of the new assassin. His clothing was the biggest giveaway to it; the stubborn tradition of ridiculously conflicting color palettes and of the signifying brooches and pendants. Thankfully for Dravon's contribution a set of clothing befitting for an assassin of Cronus' skill separated him from the backwash of Chanclera. Evidence of their failed practices was splattered over his pitch black robe and dripping off of his lowered blade. The pattern of crimson splatter looked like a macabre postmodern work of art. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Rosabelle run through cleanly by a spear, fruitlessly wriggling and fighting her inescapable fate. Lieoran would be next.

"Now now… I can't have you sullying my good time. I was about to execute this man, don't you see? I was taking my time, enjoying it…" he said, smiling at the gaping and bleeding wound in Lieoran's stomach, "draining this little pest of his juices, as a spider would."

"A sadistic habit of most predators is to toy with their prey. A common house cat will paw a mouse around and step on its tail as it tries to run away. A few quick nips into its fur to incite fear and dread. The way a spider will spin its snack into a gossamer cocoon to enjoy its fruits at its discretion. Total domination of something lesser than you; the feeling of complete control of something's life…" he said and nodded at Rose. "In Rosabelle's eyes is that look every mouse had before the cat inevitably ate it up. Thrashing about as if something could save her, holding onto that last breath. Pitiful, isn't it?"

With a flourish, the assassin slashed his dagger diagonally at Zelvad. His bold move only served to slice air; in a flash Lieoran's bloodied and stubbed arm wrapped around Zelvad's waist and hoisted him into the air, tossing his aside and into the crowd of bodyguards. Though he landed on his right foot, it slipped over the cadaver of one of the fallen elders. Surprisingly, he still clutched his dagger.

"Run, fool!" Lieoran yelled. "Do not throw your life away like that!" In another bold move the old soldier struck Cronus in the stomach, hunching him over and onto the ground. Dust kicked into Cronus' eyes as he took off running away through the crowded market district, a dripping trail of blood following behind. The blow would have done much more damage had for it not been the basilisk scale cuirass Cronus wore under his robes. In a quick recovery he threw down his sword and followed in pursuit of the wounded elder.

"Look at you! Running away like a coward! The once great warrior reduced to such cowardice in the face of true skill!"

He shoved a veiled woman carrying folded silk cloths out of his way, only to be met with another wall of pedestrians. Cronus waved his dagger about wildly, not able to slash anything but enough to scare them into a scatter. Lieoran was only a few paces in front of him; the wounded man was no doubt close to falling unconscious with that kind of blood less and physical stress. Despite his admirable attempt at survival, Cronus still taunted and berated him with obscenities.

"A coward dies a coward's death, Lieoran!" he yelled. Flailing wildly he grasped at the elder's shirt, only briskly touching the coarse fabric. Unbalanced, he faltered and thrashed to regain his footing before being knocked over by one of the muscular beasts that served as a city guard. His head was wracked for a moment, but the magnitude of hatred he had at that moment for that particular man was enough to fuel an al out verbal and physical assault.

"You idiot!" he yelled, striking wildly. The guard merely cowered and covered his head with his arms to try and protect himself. Cronus responded by delivering sharp kicks to his legs. "Do you know what you just did! Fucking worthless dog!"

Three more guards ran to their comrade's aide.

"The prisoners have escaped, Master Audata! We're trying to chase them!" they pleaded. Cronus was stomping onto the now grounded guard.

"So was I!" he hissed before giving them a double take. "The prisoners escaped? Worthless curs!"

The trio lurched back immediately and raised their arms in fright. "I don't have time to beat all of you. Round up every guard you can and spread to word about these fugitives."

They nodded. "Sir, we've seized the Strahl at least."

Cronus smiled waved his hand. "Begone, now."

He looked down in pity at the beaten guard. The weary man curled into a ball at the assassins feet. Cronus contemplated murdering him out of pity.

"Today… is the greatest day you will ever have. I'm giving you the most precious gift you will ever receive." He turned and walked in the direction the trio took off in.

"Go."

Repent!
07-19-2010, 02:39 PM
Taking in what he just saw, Zelvad's mind came back to reality in time to deflect a spear being jutted to his neck. After which he helped the cloaked persons dispatch the rest of the guards. The ones carrying two handed weapons were the easiest to take on and dispatch...the ones carrying short weapons however were a different story. Zelvad was able to dispatch them but not without some painful cuts and scrapes. His tunic was cut and torn, soaking up the blood coming from said cuts. Zelvad cursed at himself for not bringing his sword with him as he dead checked the rest of the bodies.

For whatever reason the man after Lieroian wanted these people dead for he got it. Two of the ones that were dead didn't even see the killing blow coming but had plenty of defensive wounds. One of them had their left arm crushed and the pressure in their body led to the conclusion of internal bleeding. The other hqd his head split clean down the middle....dead on the first strike. Though a sharp breath caught his ear, causing him to quickly turn to find the fifth still moving. He then came to the fallen woman the man called Rosabelle.

She was fighting hard for her life, as any true spider would. Zelvad merely smiled as he looked at her, admiring her unwillingness to die. His smile faded though as his eyes fell downward, Seeing the clean entry and exit the spear made, Zelvad knew she wouldn't live for long...then it hit him. He recalled tales in his mind from his father as a child and his letters more recently of magical healers from the north of Chanclera, but Ivalor was so far away....the urge came and his mind put the words out as loud as possible holding his head up towards the crowds: "IS THERE ANYONE WHO CAN HEAL THIS WOUND?!" The people looking on started to lightly look around for someone who could do what Zelvad asked for. "IS THERE ANYONE AT ALL?!"

StormWolf
08-03-2010, 04:23 AM
(copost with the talented Mysti)

The forces of Ascara quickly descended on their little ship, mailed soldiers clogging the only ramp off of the ship with shields and lances. Arjak's golden eyes narrowed, stepping cautiously on the deck of the Strahl, hand resting on his seax. The burly Norgard started to coil again, like a spring or a serpent, building tension within until it was time to let loose with stunning force. He looked over to Ciara, then back to the Ascaran guards, noticing the glances they gave her, but he also could smell the lechery off of them, the smell of a lustrous and carnal taint that plagued all men deprived of a woman's warmth for too long. This made Arjak sneer, barring his animalistic teeth and loosing a dangerous growl deep in his throat.

The Norgard stepped closer to Ciara, watching as the situation grew more and more volatile with every twitch made and every syllable uttered. The entire thing was a powder-keg in a house of candles; it was only a matter of time before disaster struck.

"Ciara, get ready to either fight or run..." he looked over his shoulder at her, quirking a dark eyebrow at her dress,

"Can you run in that?" he asked genuinely. He knew that his sisters moved like sheep on their hind legs when wearing their regal dresses. Though Ciara's was of a thinner and lighter fabric and make, it still looked... hindering.

Ciara watched in total disbelief as things turned from a simple arrival to bad, and rather quickly at that. She wasn't even sure exactly what was happening at this point but when Arjak stated "Ciara, get ready to either fight or run..." she realized just how severe the situation was. Running had never entered her mind, she was not afraid to fight by Arjak's side. In her time knowing him, she had come to know that he would protect her at all costs, she did not doubt this any more than she would doubt that she would do whatever it took to keep him safe also. As it was though, many of the others who had found passage on the Strahl with Raphael Sinclair were already attempting to make their escape.

"Can you run in that?" Again, Arjaks concern was touching to her and smiling softly Ciara replied as she withdrew a dagger and quickly cut the material, tearing it up the side far enough to allow her to run swiftly or fight fairly "I'd fight by your side any day Arjak" Ciara's words were sincere as she spoke, "but I think we all need to get out of here. There are more important things at hand than this right now We are needed." This was one time that Ciara hoped the Norgard would listen to reason and put away his willingness to fight, for both of their sakes. For Chanclera, for Ascara, for all of their sakes.


Arjak chuckled mirthlessly, seeing that the ship is either completely surrounded by water or soldiers.

"Well, Ciara, it is either fight or swim..." he said quietly as he looked over his shoulder, seeing a fine expanse of smooth, tanned leg that he had not seen before Ciara modified her dress. He studied it extensively before looking up the rest of her body for a moment. He cleared his throat before speaking again,

"Whichever way you wish to go, I will be there for you."

It only took Ciara a moment to assess the situation and realize that there was indeed only one option. Fighting it would be. Maybe if a big enough of a brawl broke out they could make their escape during the ruckus. Ciara nodded speaking calmly as she noticed the Norgard taking in her lithe form. She was too focused on the task ahead of her to even blush in the slightest. "Then we stand, and we fight."

Arjak nodded to her with a face like stone, his smile melting away to become that stoic mask of a warrior. With a shrug of a mighty shoulder, Arjak brought his shield from his back to his arm, gripping the leather straps tightly. The Norgard then readied his sword spears, the steel tips catching the sunlight, shining bright rays in to the Norgard's golden eyes, making them flare and glow. His pale-skinned and thickly muscled arms and legs tensed in the anticipation of combat. The sea breeze brushed past the burly Norgard's face, making his raven hair dance in the currents of the air. Arjak concentrated, slowing his powerful heart beat and steadying the rhythm in which he filled his great lungs.

One of the Ascaran guards saw the Norgard brandish weapons. The guard's brow furrowed and drew a wickedly curved blade the likes of which Arjak had never seen. The Ascaran's curved blade whistled as it sliced through the air, the arch aimed at Arjak's neck. The blade stopped with a heavy thud as the edge collided with the Norgard's ironwood shield. Arjak snarled and jabbed back with his own bladed weapon. The guard was armored less adequately than the paladins, but that also made them faster and more agile. Still, few men could move after cold Norgard steel sank in to their goin.

Blood proceeded to sputter forth from betwix the guard's legs, covering Arjak's steel and scarred hand in warm, coppery crimson. Arjak wrenched the blade free and launched the guard across the deck with a powerful thrust kick to the man's sternum. The Ascaran tumbled on the deck before finally falling still, a dark puddle of lifeblood leaking out from his loins. When the attention of the other guards fell upon Arjak, he took a stance of power. As they started to advance, he scraped runes in to the caked blood on his sword-spear. Static filled the air, making the Norgard's hair stand on end.

"Be ready, Ciara..." he said firmly over his broad shoulder.

And so it began as Ciara watched the Norgard advance upon his prey showing no fear. It had been such a long peaceful time that Ciara was afraid perhaps she had lost her once upon a time ease of ability to fight and while she'd had no problem in helping with the Paladin situation there was still a part of her that held some reservation.

The Norgard appeared to be centering himself and Ciara quickly followed suit, breathing in deeply then exhaling as she withdrew her own weapons which were much smaller than the Norgards but just as deadly. "Be ready, Ciara..."

Ciara nodded. She was as ready as she could possibly be.

Kris
08-22-2010, 09:04 PM
Without much of a time to think back or actually understand what was going on, Helena watched as the group of men did the noblest thing pirates of their kind will do. Flee.

They spread all around, as they were led away by the hot headed (literally) female pirate, Marguerite. Helena held tight unto the healer's arm as she lifted her spear in her other hand. She wore no armor, but her vow to protect the woman was stronger than any shield. Worst case scenario, she will end up as that shield for Wren as well.

Unlike the others, Raphael and Mikhail remained at their places, most likely still clinging to the silly thought that they will be able to save the ship somehow. Mikhail turned and looked at Helena, and for a moment a thought passed within her mind that the two men were actually more concerned about getting everyone to safety. The thought, however, was pushed away quickly from Helena's mind, as rage took over. She looked away from him, rising up her nose in disgust. Mikhail got the hint, and was already busy fixing his stand. He seemed to be talking to Raphael about something, but Helena was unable to understand what was going on.

She looked at the other side, watching both Ciara and Arjak drawing their weapons. Were they seriously willing to fight? Helena considered this herself, but already decided she was not willing to risk the healer, and more importantly, the ship was of no concern to her. She had her own mission to accomplish, and she was sure the two druids would come to understand this, for they too had business in the desert kingdom of Ascara as well.

"Lady Avari", started Helena to say, not bothering to even look back at the young woman, "I am your sword for now, but do not ask me to fight this lost battle. See through my plea, we must leave now".

Helena looked around as she searched for any sign of Cronus. She never felt such a disgust from a person before, aside from Bolgan, and realized that that man was very dangerous. He couldn't have gone too far and the noise of the havoc of the latest event, and probably even the running guards who dashed to call back for him, should be more than enough to make him re-appear again.

Two figures danced in a dance of battle now. Ciara resembled a drop out leaf, gentle, yet carried right for the spot with accuracy gained by speed of wind, while Arjak seemed like a wild thunder, no clear aim, yet enchanting and still effective to everything around his path. The mix of black and white, speed and might, elegant and brute, seemed to awaken something within Helena. The passion of battle was already starting to burn in her eyes but she fought hard against it. She was no coward yet she was calculated. Armor or not, she was still a Paladin, and with that came the code of battles that she swore to follow. She had no desire to irk something between two countries bound in an alliance pact and mostly, she didn't want to fight Cronus.

Looking back around she still found no trace of that man, and felt both relief and concern, "Should you ask me to, Lady Avari, I will battle", the healers were law, even females, and Helena couldn't disobey Wren should she ask her to stay and fight, but, she still needed to point out how risky it was, "In a land with no higher authority, or orders, or actual reason for benefit or protection of some ideal or of some person, I am to remember that I am not only a knight, but of the holy order that shun combat. That is why I have already considered our situation. We should leave this place".

Anne Bonny
09-10-2010, 04:31 PM
(With bunches of help from Lance, Stormwolf, and Repent! Thanks guys!)

Wren's wide eyes turned from Helena to the scar-faced stranger that stood grinning before them and back again. "Should you ask me to, Lady Avari, I will battle," her friend had said. Despite her confusion, worry, and gripping fear, Wren managed to slowly shake her head.

In her travels in the past, Wren had heard of healers commanding knights and paladins to protect them in dangerous situations. But it was something that the girl could never understand. She had pledged her life to saving others. How could she justify asking another to stand in harm's way? And what of the guards that were trying to capture them? Did they not have families, wives, children, who would miss them if she asked Helena to strike them down?

"No, we shouldn't fight unless we have no other option," Wren responded before turning back to their grinning savior. She concidered him for a moment before continuing.

"Thank you for your help, sir," she said with an attempt at a friendly smile. "I'm sorry we don't have much time for introductions. Do you know a safe place we can go?"

The smile on Graeak's face faded in to a dark frown at the woman's question as he thought for a second. Then the smile returned full force.

'Well.. I... uh... there's the Inn I'm staying at. I've not been here long, but I'm sure that's safe. I guess. I'm sure it is. Its... uh.... this way.... on the other side of the marketplace'

He didn't sound particularly confident, nevermind that they didn't know the stranger or his motivation for helping them. But it was a better chance than they had standing around and both women knew it. Again, Wren glanced up at Helena, but this time her expression was set with determination. The paladin nodded in silent agreement.

"We need the others," Wren said, her emerald eyes sweeping the docks until they settled on Raphael, Mikhail, and Marguerite, who stood not far from the paladin, and then to Arjak and Ciara who had engaged the guards a little further off. "Give us just a moment," she said over her shoulder to their new ally. She instucted Helena to retrieve the pirate captain what seemed to be his most loyal crewmen before darting off towards Arjak and Ciara.

The duo was already engrossed in battle, and many of the guards had taken notice and advanced on them. And while the pair seemed to be doing fine fending for themselves, Wren had to wonder how long they could keep up their deadly dance against so many enemies. But to the healer's benefit, the guards' attentions were mostly focused on the battle instead of the small girl who weaved in between the men to get closer to her friends.

Arjak was the closest when she approached, and Wren didn't hesitate to call out to him. "Hurry, Arjak! We have a way out!" Arjak turned his focus from the dying man on the end of his spear to the small form of Wren among the milling enemy soldiers. A way out? Allfather be praised! Still, there were a lot of soldiers. Too many to kill by hand. Arjak's golden eyes narrowed, his hand tightened around the wooden shaft of his sword-spear, and his lips pulled back in a wild snarl. Those lupine teeth of his parted as he took in a breath of air. Arjak controlled the beating of his heart, focusing on the mass of enemies, singling them out from Wren. Harm to her would be unacceptable. Then, with his powerful lungs, Arjak bellowed a Word of Power that sounded more like the roar of a rabid Norgard Bear than human speech.

"Dyrmja Hrœzla!" Arjak's eyes glowed bright as the power of magic flowed through him, filling him with life. That was why Arjak refrained from using it as much as possible, the power was addicting. Still, Ciara was in danger - so was he, but that was beside the point. The sunny sky of Ascara went dark for a moment, the blistering hot air becoming numbingly cold just around the vicinity of the ship. Thunder rolled loudly in the dark clouds above the ship. Suddenly, bright arcs of lightning searched out the Ascaran soldiers and hit around them. Though occasionally one of the guards would get struck in the head or chest, the display of power was more for chaos and confusion.

While the guards cowered and leapt at the sight and sound of the assaulting storm, Arjak shouldered his shield and took Ciara by the arm and pulled her along sharply. His grip was tight, she might bruise, but he didn't want her to be left behind, or even separated from him. He charged after Wren like a bull, his powerful legs pulling both himself and Ciara towards the exit Wren was leading them to.

Arjak's power was incredible, but Wren was left with little time to discuss or even wonder about it for long. She spoke a quick word to their rescuer signaling that they were ready, and he ducked away into a sidestreet while the guards behind them reeled in the confusion the sudden lightning storm had left.

The party of eight quickly made their way through the back alleys of Tamur. They were persued by the guards for some time, but thanks to their unknown rescuer's knowledge of the lesser traveled streets, their enemies were quickly left behind. After a few more twists and turns to be sure they weren't being followed, the stranger lead the group into a courtyard marketplace in the center of town, explaining briefly that it would be better to cut across rather than go around the entire city.

The marketplace was completely crowded with people, and the friends had to travel closely together to keep from being separated or pushed aside by the many civilians. Vendors yelled at them to sample their wares, old women tried to push them aside in their hurry to get from one place to another, and children ran between their legs. The entire center was absolute madness, and Wren found herself wondering how anyone could keep their sanity going to a place like this day after day.

But somehow, over the din of the marketplace, a cry reached the healer's ears. "IS THERE ANYONE WHO CAN HEAL THIS WOUND?! IS THERE ANYONE AT ALL?!"

Wren stopped in her tracks, her eyes frantically searching the surrounding crowd for the voice's owner. Helena, who's hand had been on Wren's shoulder as they traveled, whirled around and stared at the girl. "Wren, what are you doing?" she demanded.

But Wren wasn't listening. Someone needed her help, and it went against her healer's oath to ignore anyone, even a stranger in need. Her cheeks colored in frustration as she began pushing her way through the crowd, unable to see above their heads due to her height, or lack thereof. She heard Helena and the others shouting from behind her, but ignored them.

Following the voice, it wasn't long until she came upon a clearing in the crowd. People had gathered in a small circle as they stared at a woman who lay on the ground, run through by a spear. At her side was an auburn haired man who was calling for help.

With a sharp intake of breath, Wren took a quick second to survey the damage. The woman was already near death, pale, sweating, and unconcious on the ground. Her crimson blood was everywhere. A wave of nausea passed over the healer. In all of her travels and all of her experiances, she had never witnessed a scene so grisley.

But her hesitation only lasted a moment, and soon Wren was on her knees by the woman's side. She felt the dampness of her blood through her white dress, but she brushed the feeling aside. "What is her name?" she asked the man.

Zelvad looked up as the woman in white approached and felt a glimmer of hope and a smile pass his lips. Despite his own wounds and his absent mindedness in bringing his sword, Fate seemed to favor him this day in some twisted way it seemed. The angel in front of him spoke and it was the sound of heaven in her words. The subject of her words however, brought him back to his senses rather quickly. "The insect who organized this attack called her Roseabelle..." he looked at in her again with a fire of respect in his eyes as he spoke, "...this spider fights hard to stay in her web, could you heal her wounds so she may at least live to see the stars this night?"

"Called her Roseabelle" Wren repeated in her mind. The man by her side didn't know her, she realized, and yet he seemed so concerned for her even though he was wounded himself. A surge of admiration welled up inside of her as Wren's eyes met his, suddenly certain she had met some sort of kindred spirit. "I will try," was all she could murmer before turning back to the dying Roseabelle.

Without wasting any more time, the healer took Roseabelle's hands in her own, squeezed her eyes shut, and felt her spirit plunge into her body. The woman's pain was so intense, Wren realized with a gasp, that it threatened to overwhelm and cripple her own efforts. But somewhere within her lithe body was a resolve of iron, and Wren's spirit pressed on.

Sweat appeared on her brow as she worked to knit together Rosabelle's insides. She rebuilt much of her organs, but the spear that remained in her abdomen obviously hindered her efforts. "Pull it out," she gasped to no one in particular. Green eyes remained closed in concentration, so Wren felt the weapon move rather than saw it. More blood gushed out of her patient, as the spear had been something of a cork keeping everything inside the woman's body.

Roseabelle twisted and cried out in pain, and Wren had to fight to keep the panic down in both of them. She rushed to call the skin together on her back and belly, trying to keep as much of her lifeblood inside of her body as possible. But still, her insides were a mess... Even with her outside wounds healed, her body would shut down in time if the woman was left so torn inside. Wren just had to...

The sudden weight of a strong hand on her shoulder drew Wren's attention back into her own body. Green eyes opened and turned to find Raphael, who was stooped down next to her.

"There are some guards at the far end of the marketplace," he said gently, his eyes searching hers with... was that worry? "Can she be moved at least? We have to get out of here."

"She still needs a lot of work," Wren began, but her words caught in her throat. She couldn't endanger the lives of her friends for one stranger. "But I think we can move her," she finished, hoping she was right. "She'll have to be carried."

The pirate captain nodded and Zelvad lowered himself to pick up the still conconcious Roseabelle. Wren tried to stand along with them, but her tired legs didn't want to move as quickly as the rest of the girl. The strong hand that had been on her shoulder moved to grip her waist as Raphael helped her to her feet.

"Easy there," he said. "There's no one around to heal you if you get hurt, you know."

"I'm alright," Wren quickly replied as a furious blush came to her cheeks. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Helena watching her with eyebrows raised. She tucked some loose hair behind her ear and tried her best to brush off their concerns. "I guess I just didn't realize how much power I used. I'm tired, that's all. I'll be fine"

And then again they were off, briskly moving through the marketplace without any further interruption and into another sidestreet across the courtyard. Wren stayed close by Zelvad's side, her worried eyes constantly shifting back to the injured Rosabelle. Even with her healing, the woman needed serious help if she was going to survive the ordeal. She had lost so much blood...

The group entered what appeared to be a modest residential district, with small homes dotting the streets and a few children playing here and there. Graeak began to explain that the inn wasn't much farther, but was interrupted by the startling voice of a woman nearby.

An aging, grey haired woman stood on one of the rickety porches just a few houses down the street. She was waving frantically to the party and urging them to come inside. "Come on, it's safe and warm in here. You can tend to your wounded," she said as she clasped her wrinkled hands in worry.

Wren glanced up at Helena in confusion. She had never seen the older woman before, and it seemed odd that yet another stranger would be so keen to offer help, even invite them into her own home. By the paladin's expression, Helena was just as baffled as Wren felt. Both women looked at Graeak, but he just shrugged in return.

"I suppose it's as good a place as any," Wren said, biting her lip. After all, how much danger could an old woman be anyway?

Repent!
09-11-2010, 06:17 PM
Zelvad could only watch as his wanting to save one was now putting two at risk of destruction. "Pull it out." Zelvad moved his hands towards the spear, and pulled it out as to ease the burden between the angel and the spider.

Soon afterward, a man that looked of nobility came and placed his hand on her shoulder "There are some guards at the far end of the marketplace, can she be moved at least? We have to get out of here."

"She still needs a lot of work, but I think we can move her. She'll have to be carried." Zelvad nodded and slowly picked up Roseabelle as to not ruin what the healing had fixed so far. Zelvad kept up with the group as they moved, and the angel with him and Roseabelle.

The confusion probably hit him as fast as it did everyone else when the old woman came out and offered sanctuary from the guards hunting them down outside. He understood that Fate dealt good cards from time to time, but it was a little too convenient this time. Zelvad really didn't have much choice in the matter right now so he went with it and ducked inside with Roseablle and the rest of the group. He then turned after entering and looked at the old woman, nodding his head towards the dying woman in his arms. "Where would it be safe to place her?"

Mysteria
09-12-2010, 08:55 PM
Amidst the throes of battle Ciara had little time to think. There was only time to react but Arjaks massive display of power did not go unnoticed. Her own powers paled in comparison to his. Ciara made a mental note to begin her own training again as soon as possible but the truth of it was that at home in Chanclera, such things were not as needed as they appeared to be needed here in Ascara. Having seen Arjaks powers put to use, Ciara was certain that with his help she could begin to understand and master her own powers.

Before Ciara knew what was happening Arjak had her by the wrist and was pulling her along at a pace that she had little trouble keeping up with. Luckily for her the many days spent wandering the forests back home had kept her physically fit and at that very moment she was appreciative for having spent so much time outside exploring the forests. Had it not been for her love of nature she may not have been in time to help Arjak that first night that they had met. Ciara smiled a soft smile then as she thanked the Allfather for having blessed her to be where she was and having met Arjak. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was in fact grateful to have him as a companion and was beginning to find his companionship welcome.

Ciara didn't flinch when the healer stopped to help the wounded one. Although she could tell that some of the others appeared to be impatient Ciara herself was not stunned by the healers willingness to risk her own life to help another, after all that is what healers did was it not? Ciara felt Arjaks grip tighten around her arm as he urged her forward to follow the gray haired woman who had offered them sanctuary. Ciara did not resist although she was not certain that it was the right thing to do. In this case, she would again have to trust that the Allfather was sending another blessing down upon them. Going unnoticed to the others with perhaps the exception of Arjak whose keen sense of hearing might allow for him to hear, was the cawing of Reyes overhead. Ever faithful, the raven remained close and his presence at that moment was an omen to Ciara that it was safe to continue into the abode of shelter offered to them.

While the others found a place to lay the injured woman, Ciara loosed her hand from Arjaks grip, rubbing it slightly as she regarded the Norgard carefully. Now that they had a moment to breath and relax if even just slightly she became even more thankful for his presence. Allowing her hand to move from her wrist to Arjaks forearm she lay her hand upon it and stepped close to him, her eyes meeting his as she spoke softly so that her words might only be heard by him. "Thank you Arjak, for being here."

Arjak had been breathing deeply once the lot of them had a chance to relax. The Power of magic still had a firm grip on him, engulfing him in both scorching fire and frigid ice. Everything was so clear as the Power flowed through him just as his blood did. Slowly, the throbbing pulse of the Power started to slip away. Even though Arjak savored the feeling of being filled with that wondrous sensation, he had to let it go. The eerie glow left his eyes at last, his heart finally returning to its normal pace. That calm pace of the heart was short lived, however, as he felt the dainty hand of Ciara on his taut forearm. He turned and smiled at her as her words broke through all the mental and emotional barriers he had built over the years like a ballista's bolt would through a knights armor. Again his heart started to race, he had not experienced feelings like this for a woman before. Usually it was one-time flings with serving girls and noble's ladies-in-waiting. But this, he felt so many things for Ciara, things beyond desire and lust. No woman had ever made his heart start dancing with a mere touch on the arm. He smiled warmly at her, his golden eyes meeting her brown ones and feeling that electric connection between them.

"Thank you, Ciara, for... well, for being you. I wouldn't be here if you hadn't." he placed his hand on top of hers. Arjak's hand was nearly the exact opposite of Ciara's. His hands were large, rough, and scarred; the hands of a man accustomed to hard work and harder situations. Arjak's thumb brushed the top of Ciara's hand gently. He felt like he had truly been blessed by the Allfather's grace, even in light of all the current circumstances, all he saw was his good fortune standing right before him with her hand on his arm.

Ciara studied the Norgards face, staring calmly back into those lupine eyes of his. The warmth of his hand upon hers shot jolts of electricity through her. Not since the loss of Brennus had she felt that twinge and tingle. In as much as Arjak reminded her of Brennus, she knew that he was not and she would not have wanted Arjak to be so much like Brennus that it would have haunted her and affect anything that might or might not be between them in the future.

Try as she might though, the Druidess could not ignore the feelings building inside of her that she was acquiring for the Norgard. Despite their surroundings and all that was happening around her, Ciara could not remove her focus from the Norgards handsome face.

"Thank you, Ciara, for... well, for being you. I wouldn't be here if you hadn't."

Arjaks voice had trailed off slightly when Ciara turned to face him fully, her hand moving from his arm towards his face. As her lithe frame moved closer to him with her gracefully swaying hips, her finger trailed against his cheek even as her own head nodded slightly, her eyes never leaving his, her movements continuing towards him and her voice barely audible to the others in the room.

Her words were meant only for him to hear as her face neared his, her footsteps moving them further into the corner of the room "There is no reason to thank me Arjak, the Allfather, he has blessed me with your companionship..." Ciara's voice trailed off even as she fought the urge to tilt her face upwards towards his and kiss him. No, this was not something that she could do. If the Allfather willed it to be, then it would have to be on Arjaks terms and not her own.

The Norgard's heart beat like the wings of a humming bird as Ciara pressed herself against him. Arjak's hands rested on Ciara's waist, feeling the savory softness of her flesh beneath the fabric of her skirt. The Druidesses warm and sweet breath wafted over Arjak's face and neck, sending a warm shiver down his spine.

It is said that there comes a moment in every man's life where he must make a choice. Arjak was at one of those moments. He weighed each variable, tried to see where his choices in this moment would take him. He scolded himself mentally. He was using his mind in a situation where it had no meaning. The Norgard looked inward, listening to the music of his heart, and moving to the beat.

Arjak hunched his broad shoulders, bringing his head down to Ciara. Their brows touching and their noses brushing. His breath meshed with hers, making the air between them hot and humid. There came a deep breath before the plunge, like a great silence before a storm, then Arjak completed the circuit. Her soft and moist lips met his, setting off a flurry of sensation in his body, making his very skin tingle. Arajk pulled Ciara's body close, pressing her soft body against his solid chest. Arjak's powerful arms wrapped around Ciara, his hands bracing her back as he planted a kiss on her moist lips. The earth could be falling from under their feet, Arjak wouldn't want this moment to end.

When the mighty Norgards hands moved to her waist to press him close to her there was no hesitation or resistance that came from Ciara, there was only the desire to feel him holding her closely against his powerful frame. The callousness of his hands seemed to disappear as she felt them moving against her, his breath so warm against her skin that she wanted to take it into her, breathe it into her very being.

And then, as if the Allfather had heard what lie within her heart, Arjaks lips met her own in a kiss that managed to steal her very breath away as she felt herself melting against him and she relinquished herself to his kiss. Sliding her hands around his neck she pulled him deeper into that kiss, pressing her lithe form tightly against him as her heart raced so wildly she was certain that he would feel it beating against his muscular chest. Amidst all of this turmoil, they had found a moment to share something that Ciara could have never foreseen and just a few short weeks ago, would have never believed to have been possible.

As their tongues danced slowly within the sweetness of that solitary moment, Ciara lost herself to it allowing his kiss to wash over and through her before finally and with the utmost reluctance, breaking it. Brushing her fingers across the hair that had fallen into his eyes and pushing it out of the way her own eyes which now appeared to be almost that of a burnt umber color stared into his amber orbs, the moment of silence passing between them yet saying so very much in an unspoken language that only they seemed to understand.

Taking a step away from him Ciara simply stated very matter of factually "We should join the others now and see where we go from here." Slowly, she began to move away from him. The truth was, that she was afraid to show any more of her emotions to him and welcomed the break. Be it as it may, some walls that were put up would be very hard for the Norgard to tear down.

Arjak took as much breath in to his lungs as he could manage. It was like Ciara sucked all of the air from his body during that kiss. The Norgard had to take a few breaths to steady himself and regain his composure. From his time drinking with fellow Thanes and Arls, Arjak had heard the men talk about a woman who had shaken their world to their very core. Arjak had had many women warm his bed on a cold winter night, and none had ever shaken his foundations, even in the afterglow. But Ciara was like a stormy sea, and Arjak was a small boat adrift in the midst of a terrible monsoon. This both excited and concerned Arjak. In all the stories he had heard, the men spoke of these woman in the past tense, every single time.

Arjak needed to step cautiously. Seeming over-eager or too ready to commit could scare her away or put her on a harsh defensive. The dance of courting a woman was more precarious and complicated than trying to tame a wild lion. With one more deep breath, Arjak checked to make sure he was presentable and not terribly cracked or visibly compromised by what just happened.

Just a few steps behind Ciara's swan-like stride came the heavy thud of Arjak's dense stride. She was like a feather and he was like a boulder; alpha and omega. They were complete opposites, and yet he had this undeniable attraction to her, as well as a frustrating resistance. This was the first person, if he drove her away, he would spite himself forever. Such feelings caused the terrible push and pull of their connection.

With the Norgard following close behind, her face slightly flushed, Ciara struggled with her own thoughts even as they rejoined the group to await whatever it was that would happen next.

(With thanks to the Stormiedude for making this creation possible.)

L
10-01-2010, 12:55 AM
(Thanks to Anne for her help :D)

As the group entered the house of the mysterious woman, Graeak took the opportunity to slump in a chair, rubbing his temples.

Why do I get myself mixed up in these messes?

Since stumbling on the scene at the ship, everything had happened in a blur – the escape from the ship, the dash through the market and happening upon a man trying to save a live, and now a strange woman whom Graeak had never seen in the city. Graeak honestly thought he was living in another world.

Eying their rescuer with concern, Wren quietly moved to stand beside his chair. His posture had worried her, afraid she would have another wounded person to care for when she was already exhausted by dealing with Rosabelle. But upon closer inspection, it seemed that he was just fatigued as well.

"I don't know why you helped us, sir, but I'm very thankful you did. I don't know that we would have lasted long against the guards otherwise," Wren offered with a gentle smile when he finally looked up at her.

"Introductions are long overdue though, aren't they? Arjak and Ciara have been our companions since we left Ivalor," she said, indicating the pair that stood at the edge of the room. "I don't know that you'll meet more noble warriors."

She nodded to the pirates next. "Captain Raphael Sinclair, his first mate Mikhail, and one of their sailors, Marguerite. Pirates, yes, but they are the heroic sort. And then there's Helena."

Wren turned to glance at the redheaded paladin who stood nearby, watchful and poised as always. "She is a dear friend," she finally said. "She's the one who leads us all."

The girl turned with another smile. "And I'm Wren, a healer if you haven't already guessed."

Graeak smiled, seemingly re-energized by Wren's introduction. He looked around the room as the Healer pointed out each person in turn. A hodgepodge of people that normally wouldn't be around each other. The man stood up. 'Thanks. My name's Graeak - I'm, well, a card player mostly. I have a few other skills here and there, but nothing important. So uh... can I ask why you're all running away from the guards? I'm sure whatever it is, its fun – maybe I can help?'

Repent!
10-01-2010, 04:01 AM
After placing Roseabelle where the old lady guided, Zelvad relaxed and took a couple steps back, slumping in a chair and hanging his head a little. Today had officially tested his stamina and won, made known by the heavy sigh he made after he sat down. The bare feet that have carried him throughout the day were now callous, bruised, and rough from the battle before. His arms and hands were bloodied and sore from carrying the dying woman who had been given a few extra moments by the angel who named herself Wren, and now his head was pounding with a tremendous headache while trying to sort out the days events in his head.

Though while letting the day wash over him as he sat in that chair listening ...he realized something that even he thought was odd. He felt content, relieved with the fact that at least he tried his hardest to make a difference in that woman's life when she was slated for death. Zelvad was beaten, bloody, and bruised, so much to the point where one would think that a person would be in pain and either angered or scared. Though make no mistake Zelvad was in pain, but all he could do...was crack a smile as he pulled his hair out from the back of his shirt where it was tucked in and draped it over his right shoulder, letting the rest fall to about his midsection.

Kris
10-19-2010, 07:48 PM
(I thank Stromwolf for his awesome input, this would never be this great without you)

Helena never liked a situation where she felt unable to help in any way, so while Wren was working and the new guys were gathering around, Helena decided to step outside. She looked at her hands which were covered by metallic gear. Wren wore light gloves sometimes, but mostly worked barehanded, as she used her healing charms. In many ways, paladins and healers were alike, as they were both needed to learn the basic methods of healing. The healers were superior of course, but the paladins could use the same power, with minor effect that is, but still use it nevertheless....

But the main difference was the changes in the gathering the power's source that enable the healers to take the position of the leading force of Ivalor. While the power came naturally for the healers, from within their body, as innate ability, paladins and monks outside of the god-hand's clan, needed to train their body and spirit to channel outside power, they would refer to as “godly” power, and use it while taking it inside themselves. Those without faith, or broken soul or ruined body couldn't have brought themselves to do it, even if they were knights of the holy order.

Helena considered this. It was around the time she heard about her father that she decided to stop her progress in the terms of the “godly” nature, and she always felt chained and sealed. Even now she felt helpless as someone was dying beside her and she wasn't able to reach out and help.

But... could she find within herself the strength to turn for god again? To ask him to guide her? To lend her his power?.... The same forsaken god that...

Footsteps....

Helena was alert at once as she searched for something to use as weapon only to learn that it was the two druids that have separated themselves not so long ago and have returned to the main group. Helena narrowed her eyes as both suspicious and anger took over her. She was sure that Wren must have told them something about the reason for her to be here in Ascara, a thing she wished to keep for herself. There was no need for them to know more or to even get involved... and yet.... the two did proved to be useful and powerful allies.

"Hail to you, Lord al’Andunn”, Helena called to him and noticed by their expression that they both didn't expect her to address any one of them, “If you may, I'd like to have a word with you”, She noticed that the female druid looked somewhat uneasy, and to that Helena decided to add, “Alone, if you may”.

She knew the two must have thought of the reasons for the sudden summoning, but the Norgard couldn't have thought of reasons he could use to turn down her invitation, “Will you come with me for a moment?” Arjak's brow furrowed as he huffed. Helena's summons served as a merciless slayer to the afterglow of what had just transpired between himself and Ciara. He gave Ciara a reassuring squeeze of her hand and a soft smile, letting her know that he would be just fine. What was the worst that could possibly happen?

While Arjak followed Helena, he frowned deeper. Did she just call him 'Lord al'Andunn'. Granted, it was his rightful title, but he was not accustomed to people referring to him as such. If anything, his sisters used his title in jest, making him seem a fool.

"You seem to have you vigor back, Helena. Wren did a good job on healing you." Arjak's voice was deep, noble, and brimming with masculinity. "Now, speak your words. I am sure I don't have to tell you of the hornets nest we stirred."

"Vigor alone was not the only thing to be restored, sadly for a knight such as I, for I irk for more...", Helena continued to walk a bit and then she stopped and looked around, "Good and well... This seems to be a far enough place.... EN GUARD", she cried and charged forward with her long spear.

The Norgard was surprised indeed, but it his long years of living as one with the nature, and his innate skills of a fighter did the thinking for him as he evade a horizontal strike.

"What do you know of my affairs in Ascara? How much did Wren tell?", Helena paused and the Norgard realized she wasn't even looking back at him. As he tried to tell more from her cold expression he noticed the soft red blush on her cheek. Was she angry with him? She never seemed the person to get so offended over things such as mere emotions of anger or frustration, which she did a fine job, until now, of keeping them in check.... He considered this as he tried to understand the person he had little if at all time to know and then he conclude: no, she couldn't be so hot-headed, she was above it... but, perhaps it was another emotion at work here….

"I request of you to inform me now", she said again, trying to hide her deep breaths. She couldn't have been that worked up over small attack that didn't even hold power to it. Could she? Was her recovery far from better? … Well that couldn't be the whole deal…

She looked back at him, as she prepared to strike again, but her eyes were dropped as soon as she studied his location. It was then that it suddenly hit him. Embarrassment; Helena was ashamed in what she did. She drove him far and attacked him without a warning, while bearing in mind that both he and Ciara were always there to help her and Wren. But, if Helena was willing to go this far and act like this, something bigger was lying on the scales.

"HERE I COME!", she cried again and charged, again without much of a power in her strike.

Arjak's face was one of discontent. He felt duped and betrayed by Helena, the Paladin Captain. It looked like some habits died harder than others. When Helena made her charge, Arjak stepped to the side and grabbed the haft of her spear with his meaty hand, shaking the weapon and woman as one before pushing Helena away.

"Blood and Thunder, what are you going on about? Has the Ascaran sun baked your head already?" Arjak remained tensed and poised for Helena to continue her attacks. She was attacking him with a deadly weapon, but he could not bring himself to draw a weapon to defend himself, or even raise a fist to her. Arjak simply could not bring himself to strike a woman.

Helena lunged again, aiming to pierce the Norgard. Arjak grabbed the haft of the spear and used his height and strength to push Helena against a wall. "Wren only vented her concern of traveling with a pirate. She spoiled no secret of yours. Now, enough of this madness." Arjak pried the spear from Helena and cast it away like it was kindling.

"Why.... Won't you...", said Helena as she gasped for air, "...take me seriously...?!". She looked at her spear and then back at the Norgard, "You don't dare draw your weapons against me because I'm a comrade or because you consider yourself superior to me?...", she gasped for air once more before she said, "It's not about what you know, or not, anymore... I... Want to know.... rather I could....", Helena stopped, words didn't seem to be coming as she found it difficult to speak her mind, "Do you think you can protect... the ones you care for?" Arjak kept his temper in check, but that didn't mean it wasn't simmering at a low boil. What was this crazy woman's issue with him? He still couldn't decide if she was trying to prove something to him, or to herself. Still, Arjak had had enough of her games. He was going to drive home the nail.

"Listen well, Helena, because I will only say this once." Arjak growled as he closed the distance between her and him. He pulled his shoulders back and kept his spine straight, standing at the peak of his height. His rough hand reached out and took a hold of the Paladin's collar, letting Helena know how thin her neck was to his hands.

"I refrain from drawing my weapon and I refuse to strike at you because you are a woman. I swore I would never harm a woman so long as I remain Thane of the Andunn Clan. Besides, baring steel to you would only encourage you to fight more, and I do not wish to fight you." Arjak pushed Helena back, pressing her against the wall and lifting her up to his eye level by the collar of her tunic.

"You wish to test my mettle? You wish to know what lengths I will go to, to protect those I hold dear? Then behold." Arjak pulled open his fur-lined leather jerkin, baring an old scar that traversed his chest. The scar was deep and dark against the Norgard's pale flesh.

"An assassin's dagger meant for my sister, Elayne. The nave snuck in to our halls like a rat and intended to steal the life from my first sister while she slept. How many men do you know would take the bite from a poisoned dagger and have no regrets? Hm?! How many?! How many men do you know, would cast his own life down upon the edge of a sword for the promise of life and liberty for his family and his people?!" Arjak's voice had risen to a low yell by the end of his speech. He forced his hand open, letting Helena touch the ground once more. Arjak looked down at her, closing up his jerkin once more.

"I know I can protect those I love..." he looks over his shoulder to where he had kissed Ciara, "...because that is the first vow I make to them. To protect them until death take me." Arjak looked back to Helena, sneering slightly, "Satisfied?"

Helena let a weak cough escape her lips, but tried to hold back from letting out another. She felt her neck burns, but was too proud to rub the place in front of the Norgard. Instead she narrowed her blue eyes and fixed them upon Arjak, trying not to blink too much.

The two exchanges gazes like that for a long moment before she looked aside, and bent down to pick up her spear. For a moment Arjak thought that all he said has gone through her the same way a wind will simply hit a wall and never make progress.

Arjak was angry, and was willing to prove that even wind can overcome the wall, when she lowered the spear and passed him, going back to the path they both walked.

"You called me by my first name. Were it any other time I would have encouraged you to abstain from doing so. However, as you said, I am somewhat Satisfied".

Helena didn't smile, but the aura around her seems to be at ease at last, "I am carrying with me a heavy burden that I wished to avoid. However, I was forced to do it, and I think much is at risk and many are involved...", she looked back at Arjak and added, "And will be involved...."

They continued walking, "I never wanted to bring you into it from the first place... Let us return, by evening I will tell you my story. You earned it, Lord al’Andunn".

Arjak harrumphed as he closed up his jerkin, tugging the hem of the fur-lined garment down to eliminate any bothersome wrinkles. The Norgard stormed out of the room on Helena's tail; he wasn't going to miss the explanation for her actions, not in a lifetime. This ought to be good.



***

Ascara- outskirt of the castle

"This is rather absurd... Won't you agree with me?”

Graveyard.

Night time, (Since it wouldn't be epic enough without the moody dark theme to it), with weak moans of desert winds. If you were really disturbed kind of a person, you might actually find a resemblance between pure maiden's singing voice to the whispers of the winds.

He stepped forward, his shadow reaching behind him and stretching, despite the fact he wasn't very much of a tall figure.

In fact he was really short.

Okay, he was so sort he would be about the height of a ten years old kid.

He made his way through the tombstones, never really caring if he actually stepped upon a new dug grave or even stamping on the plate stones. Finally he halted and looked up. Not far from him, on a wither tree a body was hanged.

Tsk.

Why was he needed to do all the dirty work?

He moved ahead and was about to touch the body when it suddenly shivered and opened it's eyes. They looked back at him with red orbs, any feeling of life lost for sure, but here it was, or he, since the body was that of a male, moving himself.

"So... you awoke...?”, asked the short guy.

"….”, the body seemed to be more busy at looking around, and the little guy thought it must be because it was the only thing he was able to function.

"Your name in your past life... was... Ariel...”

The eyes halted in their place. Then they looked down at the midget guy as if spotting him for the first time. The small man looked up at him and saw himself as he was reflected in the dead eyes. Everything about his look could tell that he was just a little kid, but something about his stern expression and his gaze of “I've seen many things in my life” within his eyes, couldn't fool the dead body... Or so the little man thought.

"Kinda resembles your old name... Listen, there was a reason for Emonalach to contact this man, Ariel... he tried to get him into a deal and get his body for you... “

"Emonalach.... pity....”, uttered the body slowly, “That a mighty being such as he... needs to lower himself...”

The little kid shrugged, “Hey, I'm just the messenger... and for that matter, I gain nothing outta this, just so you know”

The body tried to move...

"I can feel it...”, said the little guy, “You awoken within this man, but his soul seeks revenge....”

"Cronus Audata...”, uttered the body with him.

The kid folded his arms, “Oh just make a pact with this body already... If you wait too long, the body will be ruined, and you will never be able to sustain it.... And I mean like, you got a body brought to you with no fight whatsoever, and you got Emoanalach to pick this one for you... It resembles you and your needs...”

"I won't be ordered around by a mortal”, said the body, and the kid noticed how the little life that it had started to fade from it.

"Fine, do as you will... but.... Are you sure you want to be that far away from Emoanalach? Remember that... HE is still alive... and I'm sure... HE will try to rebel again...”

The body close its his eyes and the red orbs no longer shone. For a moment nothing happened and then a bright light appeared on the other side. The kid looked around and watched as red portal opened up in mid air, destroying the image of the sky, as if the sky was only paper. Black hands reached from within it, trying to step outside, each one preventing the other from advancing while trying to advance itself. At the end, a brighter shade color of hand reached forward, and shoot into the hanged dead body, and filled it whole with light.

The kid smiled, “Glad this worked... you are one annoying stubborn bastard”.

The body started to grew new skin, the hair started to look brighter and slowly the rope over his neck withdrew, allowing a safe landing for the hanged man... That was no longer hanged...

New cloths started to form around him, and his eyes slowly stopped being red and turned into soft green, his original eye color of his host, “And you are one desirous schemer”, the body of Ariel smiled, “You can't be having the best of interest for Emoanalach in your mind alone... what's the real reason you are here?”.

"Simple...”, said the kid, “A great war is going to burst soon, and not just between the mortals... If HE will take actions, I wish to see how well will Emoanalch deal with it”.

"So, you just afraid to be in the wrong side, aren't you?”

"I am a business man after all, my interests always comes first, that was the reason I removed myself from the never ending light, the whole idea of being one and whole never suited me...”

"We all have our reasons...”

"Yes. But yours, despite your true core, seems to be the purest... “

"Perhaps.... So, how are you called this time?”

"Jared”, said the kid, “Okay, I think we had enough fun for one night, you have a mission”

"I do?”

"Yes.... Since your best quality is revenge, there is one lady which you need to take care of...”

Repent!
10-20-2010, 08:02 AM
Out of all things Zelvad could be doing tonight, whether they be at his home sharpening his weapons, or amongst the nighttime hunting grounds he called his home for the past couple months while making a map of the landscape, he was spending the night in the same inn they found refuge in. After Roseabelle was healed, Zelvad had cleaned and dressed his own serious wounds that were going to take a couple of days to heal. Most importantly though, he was watching over Roseabelle while she rested. That sickening parasite Cronus was still alive and he may come back to finish what he started. If that happened Zelvad vowed to send the pest to its grave, or die trying. "Now if I was a dirty, cheating, shameless maggot pretending to be a spider....what rotted out log would I be hiding in so I would have time to take my next host?" He was more speaking under his breath and thinking out lound more than anything, deep in thought trying to remember the map he drew out in his mind and checking for any nooks, crannies, or otherwise.....alas, nothing. He sighed and shook his head, continuing to look out the window at the sea of stars before him.

Anne Bonny
11-02-2010, 07:03 PM
Wren sat quietly at Rosabelle's side for some time, simply watching the other woman breathing. The unknown old woman had instructed that they place her on a small bed in a back room before bustling off, mumbling something about making tea. Wren had hardly heard her, or anyone else in the party as they talked amongst themselves. Her attentions were focused on the wounded woman.

Gingerly, she placed a gentle hand on Rosabelle's forehead, wincing from the immediate pain she felt in her own gut from the contact. Should she dive back in again, Wren wondered? Should she try again to knit Rosabelle's insides together? Or perhaps she should rest first, regain her strength, and then try again with refreshed energy. But on the other hand, she couldn't say if Rosabelle would last long enough for Wren to rest. She had lost so much blood.

Minutes seemed like hours, and yet there was no change, but at least Rosabelle breathed. It was indeed a good sign. Then, the unexpected happened. Rosabelle opened up her eyes, more like wild instincts then an actual symbol of recovery. The body soon followed and she coughed up blood, and then tried to at least sit, but was unable to pick herself up more then few inches. She looked at Wren, her eyes dim of light, “What is this?! Where am I?!"

Wren sat back in surprise, but still held a firm grip on the other woman's hand. "Easy," she said, trying to make her voice sound as soothing as possible. "Try to rest, Rosabelle. You've been wounded."

The woman calmed down, but fixed her gaze at Wren. She then turned to look up at the ceiling above and seemed to be lost in thought, "We were betrayed... ", she looked back at Wren, "Did anyone else survive?"

Wren sat forward in her chair, her eyes examining the woman with concern. Coughing up blood wasn't a good sign. "There was a man who found you, but he didn't seem to know you well. Zelvad was his name. A red haired man. Otherwise, you were alone."

Alone....

Rosabelle bit her lips. The thoughts of the mighty elders going down so easily was far greater blow then any wound she suffered. They were all dead, a mighty empire of moving warrior faded from earth because of one man.

Cronus.

Rosabelle eyes opened wide with a flash of understanding, "That name... Zelvad... I think I.... could it be... Tell me...", she looked up at Wren, "Is he here?.... Can you get him here?!".

Wren nodded quickly and rose from her seat, releasing Rosabelle's hand and hurried to the bedroom door. A scan of the room revealed Zelvad standing nearby, gazing out a window. Wren called to him and waved him over. "She's awake," she said. "She's asking for you."

Zelvad had a look of suprise and wonder on his face as he heard wren say that Roseabelle wanted to speak to him. He quickly nodded and followed Wren to where Roseabelle was now conscious. It was so surreal to be in her presence. She knew her time was coming, yet even while staring death in the face she still moved and spoke. Zelvad was still awestruck, but managed to find words to throw out of his mouth. "The web has crossed our strings, and I am glad for it." He fell to one knee and bowed his head before her.

"Rise up, young Arachne", said Rosabelle, barely able to keep her warm smile. She was so happy to know that the man that was standing before her, was indeed the same young boy that was brought into the clan by Livata.

"Do you know who I am?", she asked.

His eyes looked of puzzlement as he raised his head and looked to her eyes. At first he was unsure of her question, not really looking for anything different. Then the realization washed over him faster than the days events, "Your eye's are the same as Lieroan! That means that you're...?!"

Zelvad's father, as well as Master Liviata had always told him stories of the ancients. Though it hit him shortly after wards that he distracted Cronus long enough for Lieroan to get away, and he had helped Roseabelle live a little longer. He had encountered two ancients and hadn't even realized it until now.

Rosabelle smiled, "Indeed, Liviata made a right choice the day he brought you in, such a gift to the clan you are", Rosabelle then turned to look at Wren and then she coughed again, "I don't have much time... and there is much I need to tell you. Woman, Will I burden your kindness once more, for I must tell you my tale. I assume there are others, gather them. This might be my last chance, and there is so much more I need to talk to you about, once I'm done, I would like to be left alone with this young man, is that okay?".

Confusion was setting in, and Wren was relieved to hear Rosabelle say that she would explain everything to the group. But the woman's statement that she didn't have much time put her ill at ease. Despite her exhaustion and how critical Rosabelle's wounds were, she wouldn't give up on healing her.

"I'll gather the others," she said, her voice taking a firmer tone, "but I can't promise to leave you alone if you need help still."

Before the woman could protest, Wren quickly slipped back through the doorway. She called out to Helena, then the others to join them. The modest bedroom quickly became crowded with people, but the watchful Wren found her way back to Rosabelle's side, positioning herself between Rosabelle's bed and captain Sinclair.

"I hope you will be able to grasp the importance of what I'm about to tell you, for I am not planning to repeat it twice”, started Rosabelle to say the moment Wren came back with more people, “Some of these events I'm about to describe were even before my time, and I heard them from another Elder by the name of Lierioan. If he is still alive, you might be able to meet with him and hear more from him in person.

“I, along with young Arachne over there, belong to the clan of the “Lunar fang”. Some of you may heard whispers about us, that is because we operate behind the scenes. In the days of the genesis there were supreme tyrant group of mortals who were able to control the rest by using abilities, that you people might refer to as “Magic”. This ability gave them control over spirits, natures and even control over heavenly powers and lesser gods. They came to be known as the “Ancients”.

“They lived and ruled from the land of Chanclera, the strongest core of magic land, therefore, the “Ancients” were very powerful and used their power for their personal gain, yet after a long period of time, some recall of their mortal heart and as a result, a furious battle within the clan occurred and many “Ancients” lost their lives. In order to preserve themselves they spread all over the world and developed new ways to channel the power of “magic”. Those who were left in Chanclera gathered together and decided to abandon any method of magic use, and decided to relay on the power of the body and mind alone, putting themselves a goal to destroy and kill anyone who misuse magic. They called themselves the “Lunar Fang” and soon became the most fearsome tribe on the land. The mages called them Assassins, and since the “Ancients” of the “Lunar Fang”, had a typical look of Red hair and eyes, the mages all over the world soon learned to fear people with that kind of appearance. I heard that it became a religious superstition in Ivalor to fear people with red hair, calling them demons. It's really amazing, Healers are still mages in their core after all, I'm sure it does prove my story to be true....

“Well, Since those who founded the tribe of the “Lunar Fang”, where “Ancients” themselves, they swore to never use their abilities to call for their “magical” power. .. However... that was... until that man showed up....

“At first he was a shapeless dark mess of energy who consumed living energy and fed on dark emotions, yet remained far from humans until he completely shaped himself. We did a great research and still haven't completely learned about him. What we do know is some of his origin: He came from another land, or more to say another world. I believe the people of Ivalor will call it “Heaven”, and the druids of Norgard will regard it as part of the “all-father”... To be honest, I don't care which, all I know is that he did something to be thrown out of there... And that's not all... He seemed to be behind the dark shadows that appeared all over Chanclera and even now in Ascara, because, just like him, those fiends feed off emotions and life as well

“Ever since he joined up with the former Emperor of Esgares we called him: “Emonalach”, just like he presented himself to the world, but we don't know if it is truly his name or not. We did our best to fight his minions, but couldn't win against them. They first appeared only at night, like they do in Ascara, but now they increased in number and able to appear even in day time, as long as there is a shadow to protect them...”, Rosabelle halted and then looked at Zelvad, “We saw some druids fight against them, and watched some wizards battle them. The outcome was amazing, they did far more damage then we did... and because of that... we needed to.... “, she halted again, “Young Arachne, I'd like to talk to you alone now... if you may...”

There was a stunned silence in the room, and Wren was certain she could feel the weight of Rosabelle's words like a heavy blanket laid across them all. Slowly the group filed out of the room, a few exchanging bewildered glances, others with worried eyes cast down to the floor. Wren remained, feeling as if her feet had grown roots into the wooden floor beneath her. She didn't want to leave the wounded woman. She was nearly certain that if she did, it would be the end of Rosabelle.

But if she stayed, would the result really be any different? Her eyes rose to meet those of her patient's. Rosabelle met her gaze, her eyes hard, determined, and resolved to her fate. In an instant, Wren knew that the other woman also knew the limits of her power. Rosabelle had accepted the fact that this would be her last night.

Wren blinked back tears that suddenly stung her eyes and reached for Rosabelle's hand. She squeezed it gently, wishing she had words to communicate an apology for not being able to do more, and her sincere gratitude for the dangerous truth the woman spoke to them. But no words came, and Wren slowly rose to her feet and exited the room after the others, leaving the mysterious man and woman alone.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, letting her breath out in a long sigh. Thoughts and worries immediately cluttered her mind, and the terrible silence of the others offered no resolution. Wren had a sudden, urgent need to escape the little house. She felt suffocated in the warm room, crowded in by too many people and too many unspoken questions. She couldn't simply stand around and wait.

Wren made her way to the front door, uttering to everyone and no one that she was going outside for some fresh air. But to her surpise, a voice chimed in from behind her.

"You're not going alone," Raphael Sinclair said as he moved to hold open the door. The girl didn't protest. She found that she didn't want to.

The two walked in silence for some time, both contemplating their own thoughts. But whether it was the cooler night air or the strong presence at her side, Wren felt her worries begin to evaporate. The thoughts and concerns remained, but the gripping fear that had begun to seize her had vanished.

Her eyes raised to glance at the man who walked next to her. Raphael was quiet as well, but his appearance was as calm and casual as ever. She began to wonder once again at his poise, until she noticed his emerald eyes roving here and there, the most inperceptable movement to look down an alley or quickly glance over a passer-by. And there was a bit of tightness in his mouth where a half-smile usually sat. Wren realized that he must indeed be just as worried as she, as he had said on his ship on the way into port.

His ship, Wren realized with a start. She had been so caught up in her own troubles that she had nearly forgotten what the captain had lost along the way. He had spoken before of the freedom his ship had given him, and it was clear by the way he had moved about the deck that it was more than just a means of transport. It was his home.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into all of this," Wren suddenly blurted out. "I'm sorry about your ship."

Those green eyes moved to find hers. "You cannot blame yourself, you know," he replied softly.

But Wren firmly shook her head. "I'm the one who asked you for help in the tavern, remember?"

Raphael nodded in response, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Yes, I remember. This isn't the first time I've fallen into trouble though. No need to worry."

There was something about his smile that made Wren want to grin in return. "Easy for you to say," she said, giving his arm a playful nudge. "You, the fearsome pirate."

His arm curled around her waist. "What can I say? I'm as tough as they come?"

With a laugh, Wren nodded. "I'm lucky to have you around then." The two fell into a silence again, both taking a moment to simply enjoy the other's company. When she spoke again, the girl's voice had fallen into a hush as she leaned her cheek against his shoulder. "We've got to stop Emonalach."

She took a breath before continuing, hesitating, almost afraid to ask her next question. "Will you stay and help us?"

The pirate seemed to concider it for a moment. Perhaps it was a question he had been asking himself. He could leave them, he could go gather his crew and break his ship free of whoever held it. He could go back to the high sees, to his freedom that he so loved. "Well," Raphael finally responded, the words leaving his mouth slowly. "Well, since my ship is currently beyond my reach, I might as well have some fun. And stopping Emonalach should be adventure enough to occupy me for a while."

Wren nodded, relief washing over her in a wave. She gave him a sideways look. "I think so. And perhaps after all of this we can have that dinner, Captain."

He grinned and pulled her closer. "It's a date."

The two wandered for several minutes, watching the vendors closing up their shops and gathering up their last few wares as citizens ducked into their homes. They spoke together, but it was lighthearted and friendly, talking of things they had seen and places they had been. Wren marveled at the fact that they had been chased throught he same streets only hours ago, but walking through town with only Captain Sinclair at her side, she felt perfectly safe and content.

They weren't gone long; they both knew they couldn't just run off on the others. But all too soon, they were back at the front steps of the old woman's house.

"I hate for this to end," Wren said as she looked up at the house, voiceing what they were both thinking. She turned to face her escort. "Thank you for keeping me company."

The man shrugged. "Any time," he said kindly, that charming smile lighting up his features. "A pirate I may be but I'm still useful for other things."

Wren couldn't help but move closer to him. "Is that so?" she asked. "What sort of other things?"

Raphael's smile widened, and after a quick glance around to be sure no one was watching, he brought his hands up her arms to her shoulders. Leaning down, he sought her lips with his own in a soft, tender kiss.

The kiss seemed to go on for eternity, and at the same time, not long enough. Wren found herself lost completely in his touch, unable to think, to do anything but feel her body responding to his. He seemed to light a fire deep within her that she didn't even know existed.

When they finally parted, Wren's eyes remained closed for a few blissful seconds as she exhaled slowly, trying her best to freeze every bit of the moment in her mind, not wanting to let go of the feeling. "Raphael," she sighed when she finally did open her eyes to meet his again. "I think that's my favorite thing yet."

Raphael laughed, and Wren smiled shyly, reddening at her own words. "That's good," he returned. "We can do it more often then."

The pirate held the healer close again, as the stars twinkled in delight at the unlikely pair. And for the first time on their journey, despite all the troubles and trails that they both knew lay ahead, Wren felt completely at peace.

Repent!
11-13-2010, 01:48 AM
Rosabelle made sure no one was present in the room aside of her and Zelvad. Her hand still felt warm and somehow it felt as if Wren has never stopped squeezed her hand. Rosabelle was never used to that kind of affection, and it did made her feel better, but she was far too old to let emotions distract her, and had so little time to waste.

"Young Arachne... Forgive us... “, she said without looking at him, “Forgive us, the elders, those who should uprise the laws. We did something terrible”

She paused and Zelvad didn't say anything, so she continued, “We broke the taboo, we consulted mages... we turned for their help... we were about to adopt their ways...”

Zelvad merely shook his head and hushed her. He was stunned mostly by the fact that he was unusually calm given the fact that an ancient even thought of reverting to those dark days of magical abuse. "Apologizing for what has already been done is like trying to fool a fly after it has escaped your web once before...fruitless and wasteful of your time left." Zelvad gently held her hands and looked straight into her eyes still glimmering with what life she had left while his burned with a fire that was fierce and vibrant, yet innocent at the same time.

"What needs to be known now is what happens next?" Zelvad continued, "What will happen to the clan now that only Lieroian is all that stands in the way of Cronus and the end of the Lunar Fangs? Most importantly though, what can I do to be sure the web stays strong in our darkest hour?" It was obvious Zelvad thristed for revenge against Cronus for his deeds, though he also grimly accepted the fact at the same time that the clan came before his own desires.

Rosabelle smiled, feeling more at ease, “You spoke well, Young Arachne... No.... You proved to be hatchling no more... Therefore I will tell you this. The clan, aren't aware of this. It was an experiment that both me and Lieroian were able to seize, for our ancient blood was pure. Lieroian choose Cronus to take his place, because he had a strong, almost untainted blood as well.... and like he choose Cronus, Liviata choose you... you bear almost untainted blood too... your powers could almost reach that of a pure ancient....

“The reason we turned for the dark art aid, was because we learn that these shadows cannot be harmed by normal means. Both me and Lieroian set to learn different kind of magic and test what was more efficient. At the end Lieroian decided to focus on two necromantic skills that he called the “Blood pact” and the “Blood ritual”. I spent time with a great elemental mage and learned the way of the human limits and aura. By being close to someone with magical potential, I am able, while giving some of my life force, to “force” that person soul to overcome the barrier that prevent him from using magic normally. I call this the “Blood gate”.”

Rosabelle looked at Zelvad, her red eyes almost without any reflection of life within them, “Cronus knew about it, and now he plan to take over the clan, and I'm sure he will succeed in it for they won't accept our sin, even if it is the only way we have to survive, that's why I am asking you to allow me to enable you to use your holy blood and your magical potential. You will have to learn on your own which abilities you've gain and how to use them, but I trust you to do it well. However, once I do so, you will become the enemy of the Lunar Fang... and I can't foreseen how long you will be needed to live as a traitor.... "

The eyes that burned so fiercely so soon before had quickly died out when Roseabelle gave him her request. Quickly, the assassin's face and mind was filled with worry as he looked to his knees again. The thought of betraying the clan after he just fully joined their ranks caused him stress enough....but to be asked to by an ancient on her deathbed?

The whirlwind of concern in his mind returned him to the night when he first met Master Livata and was in that chair as a boy so long ago: powerless and scared...two things he never enjoyed being, especially at the same time. He did just as that child within did when he looked into Master Livata's eyes, he swallowed his want to cry out for aid in fear, stared into her eyes again and spoke,

"I'll take this burden to its end. It is the Widow's Will that drives me and I shall not fail her...to do so means oblivion for all that pray for balance."

Rosabelle smiled, "I... I am out of words... Zelvad...", she uttered his name for the first time, the smile never leaving her face. "Be sure to thank the young lady who took care of me, and be helpful to her friends... I believe... they will aid you in your quest... I will try my best to guide you from my place in the after-life. Also, find Lieroian quickly. If he is still alive, Cronus will make sure he will not stay that way.... Lieroian might have more to say to you... I hope you will find him before it is too late...”

Rosabelle's body started to glow, “It was pleasant to live... and now it will be pleasant to learn about the after life... do not be sad for I am sure much more await ahead... Farewell, young Arachne, I enjoyed our time... Be strong... and stay true to your heart...”, and with that a bright light followed, slowly piercing into Zelvad's body. He felt a great pain which forced him to kneel down, his hands grabbing his shoulders while watching the body of the woman fading slowly into thin air. It took only few seconds, but the pain was so great that Zelvad needed more time to stand up. Rosabelle was no longer at the bed. A rose took her place. A withered red rose.

The pain was unreal, worse than anything he could ever imagine even to the point his voice went mute each time he screamed out. Though as quickly as the pain came...it was gone. Zelvad hit the ground with a loud thump and took a couple deep gasping breaths. Zelvad slowly gathered himself to his feet, and looked to the bed where a whitered rose now lay where Roseabelle once was. He slowly cracked a smile aas he held the rose in his hand. "May the Widow's web take you gently, Roseabelle."

As Zelvad turned to leave the room and meet with the others, he noticed his bandages were gone and the cuts with them. The green tint to his skin had become a little more pronounced, and his hair had turned to a bright crimson red. The removal of the blocks on his potential must have healed all of his injuries at once. So with this in mind, he slowly opened the door to join the others a faint glow stil beaming from his body....

StormWolf
11-23-2010, 07:08 PM
"Hail to you, Lord al'Andunn", Helena called to him and noticed by their expression that they both didn't expect her to address any one of them, "If you may, I'd like to have a word with you", She noticed that the female druid looked somewhat uneasy, and to that Helena decided to add, "Alone, if you may".

Ciara heard the words and was instantly on alert. What need could the Paladin have with Arjak, and furthermore, how had she known he was a Lord? Perhaps her powers went much further than Ciara had realized or maybe it was just that she had sensed it in the same ways that Ciara herself had. Whatever the reason, Ciara smiled graciously as Arjak squeezed her hand and then went to join the Paladin.

What happened next though took Ciara totally off her guard. She hadn't expected Helena to first attack Arjak verbally to proceed into a physical attack. While Ciara couldn't see them from her vantage point Ciara did not interfere but stayed her ground all the while silently calling to Reyes who was hovering overhead to watch closely and attack if need be.

Finally the Norgard reappeared looking a bit tussled, along with Helena. Ciara eyed the Paladin but said nothing as she knew there was a time and a place for everything. When she finally had a chance to speak with Arjak alone she said in a tone reflecting deep concern "Are you okay Arjak?" Then as an afterthought she added in her more quiet nature "I know it is not my place to ask, but what was that all about, I mean, does this have to do with us being called to Ascara?" Even before he answered her she could sense he may not have the answers she sought. "Do you think that this holds relevance to my dream, and the voices that drew you to Chanclera?"

Perhaps Ciara was asking too many questions, but things were becoming far too strange rather quickly, and she wanted answers. Whether they came from Arjak or the Paladin, Ciara would have her answers.

Arjak cleared his throat, his dark eyebrows pulled down in to a sullen frown from what transpired with Helena. The overzealous cow was bloody mad! Still, she proved to be no more of an issue than a bitch in heat; all it took was a few good shakes to get her compliant again. Just when Arjak was nearly back to his old self; Ciara's tidal waves of questions hit him like a Norgard avalanche.

"Helena suspected me to know something I did not. She said she wanted to test my mettle - to see if I have what it takes to protect those I care for..." Arjak subconsciously rubbed the large scar on his chest through his jerkin. "Whatever doubts she had about my character, I crushed them in our little conversation." Arjak rested his hands on his hips, his thumbs hooking the thick leather belts that criss-crossed his waist. He huffed a sigh, his brow still heavy in a pensive frown. Showing his scar to Helena made Arjak think of his sisters. He hoped and prayed they were safe and that their mother was putting them to work, maybe even marrying them off so they could become the fine Ladies he knew they would become.

Arjak shook his head slightly, ripping himself from his nostalgic reverie and focused on Ciara. "I don't know. There was little sensible talking as much as there was attempted impaling." the burly Norgard made a frustrated huff, much like a bull would when it was agitated, "I wish I knew more, Ciara. I really do. But... I just have this terrible feeling... like a ball of ice in my stomach... a feeling that something is going to go terribly wrong."

Arjaks terse words regarding Helena surprised her as she hadn't ever heard him speak that way before, but at the same time confirmed Ciara's suspicions that there was more happening in Ascara and Chanclera than the naked eye could see or that many of them even realized.

Ciara had that same feeling in the pit of her stomach, that something was terribly wrong and quickly she fell silent as they walked.

Ciara's voice became even quieter as they neared the group. "I fear you are correct Arjak, and I think this Paladin knows much more than she has spoken of yet." Ciara slowed her steps to have just a moment more of the Norgards time before they would join the others. "She says she will tell you more later, we will have to wait until then to hear her story." Arjak stood quietly with his thick arms folded over his broad chest, his frown deepening for a moment before it lessened to little more than a minor grimace. Ciara was right. This was a delicate matter, and the safest way to learn everything that needed to be learned was to wait for the opportunity to come or for the truth to rear its head.

"You are right, Ciara. Still, these secrets and lies... they make the skin crawl. You cannot rightly judge someone if they are telling half-truths." Arjak unfolded his arms and let them hang at his sides. He still felt that ball of ice in his stomach, and he could not melt it away, even when he took Ciara's hand in his. Suddenly, there was a commotion in the den of the humble little abode. Ciara and Arjak, along with everyone else present, were summoned for some news of paramount importance.

"Perhaps we will not have to wait as long as we thought." The couple made their way into the bedroom full of people surrounding the woman known as Rosabella and listened to her tale. There was so much information that it made Ciara's head begin to thump as she tried to take it all in. When the woman was done, she asked to be alone.

Ciara turned to leave the room with Arjak quick to follow. Stepping back out into the evening air Ciara leaned against the wall, at first saying nothing then finally she said "I don't even know what to think. Chanclera has been such a peaceful place and I will not stand by to see that ruined by these ill forces that now threaten my home. I know that my family is from Norgard, but Chanclera will always be my home."

Ciara stopped and looked deeply into Arjaks lupine eyes as she took his hand, her voice filled with determination. "I'm not sure I understand what all of this means Arjak, but I will die if that is what it takes to fight this evil...to preserve the sanctuary that is Chanclera." Arjak wrapped her hand in his, the calluses on his palms and finger tips brushed over her knuckles. The burly Norgard's golden eyes were half lidded in thought.

"The world is becoming a darker place every day, Ciara. If we can make it a little brighter before our time ends, that is a good thing." Arjak sighed, "But I don't plan on either of us dying any time soon." Arjak have Ciara's hand a gentle squeeze. Suddenly, the hackles on the back of Arjak's neck went up on end. His brow furrowed as his nose twitched to pick up the scent of magic. He turned to look back inside, seeing the young man Wren had assisted during their escape standing in the doorway to Rosabellas room. The young man had a thick magical aura about him, so much so that it had begin to manifest slightly around him.

"Most curious..." Arjak murmured to himself as he gave the greenish young man standing in radiance a steady glare. Ciara looked at the man whose aura flickered around him almost magically, then looked to Arjak for a moment, regarding him thoughtfully as she felt the warmth of his hand permeating her own. Indeed, there were forces to be reckoned with in Ascara.

Ciara was thankful that at least while she was in Arjaks presence she could be content in knowing that not all of the forces which existed in Ascara that she could now feel surrounding her were not of an evil nature.

Lightly she squeezed Arjak's hand as she spoke softly "I think that all we can do now is wait to see where our journey together leads us." Arjak quietly nodded to her, his gaze saying all that really needed to be said. Ascara had become a dangerous place, and Arjak had grown tired of the heat. He longed for the chilled mountains of Norgard, for the welcome warmth of his Hall, not the scalding heat of Ascara.

(co-op with the amazing mysteria)

Kris
11-27-2010, 05:19 PM
Chapter 3- House On A Hill

Ascara- Port Town of Tallas-

He entered the house without her to notice for she was busy reading something. He walked and tried his best to make each and every footsteps of his be heard. She turned around and that was when he learned that she actually did notice him all along. In her hands she held the letter, the same one that told about his foreseen coming. Bolgan's letter.

"Hello there”, he said and bowed , some black hairs falling upon his face, “I am called Ariel Ridgeworth, and I was sent for you."

The old woman's face was a mask, a stern frown carefully put in place to disguise the agony she felt within. "You just can't let a lady grieve in peace, can you? You've come to twist the knife in my heart a bit more."

Ariel looked around himself, admiring the humble house. He smiled, “May I come in?”, he asked, clearly ignoring her words.

With a heavy sigh, the woman placed the letter down on the kitchen table and turned to face Ariel. "You appeared without invitation, so why wait for an invitation to come in?" she muttered. "I'm Kay Vyre, but you already knew that."

The old woman paused. Despite her dislike for the situation, she knew that the man standing before her was dangerous. Perhaps being so rude was a poor choice. "I have some tea boiling, if you want some," she finally said, trying not to scowl.

He chuckled, rubbing his chin softly, "I find it amusing, you obviously find my present to be troublesome, and yet you offer hospitality. If I hadn't know better, I would have considered you to be an arrogant being, but if you truly were such a woman, I wouldn't be the one to handle... you...”, He enjoyed watching every wrinkle and line upon her face changing along with her expression. No more annoyed gaze or slight anger; She was now worried and confused. He decided to enlighten her, “Handling your soul that is”, he hissed as he whispered softly, “I am not the patient kind of being, mortal woman... Let us talk about your price already”, the colors seemed to fade away from the room as darkness took over. The only sound was the noise of the steam bursting from the boiling tea kettle, and even that was vague, as if it was echoing from unseen filter, “There is always a price”, he whispered again, returning her attention back to him.

Kay clasped her hands together to keep her trembling from being seen by the man. "Don't lecture me of price and cost. I know there is always a price."

Her voice trailed off and her eyes lowered. "Just as my husband knew it."

"Ah, yes yes”, Ariel said, impressed by the fact the woman didn't flinch much, “Him.... It was always about HIM wasn't it?”, his voice returned to normal and he looked much more cheerful then before, “When he left you in order to be a priest... He knew he might not be able to come back for you, so he set you free... but your heart was never free...”

Ariel moved across the room, nothing blocking him from going straight for the old woman. His whole body appeared to be unstopped by any objects as he simply moved through the furnitures until he was but a few inches away from her. He lowered himself until they both were at the same eye level, “And... him?”, he smiled as his eyes glittered, “He... was free... in his own way, wasn't he?... He had the power and the blood to join 'god-hand' and he decided to submit himself to high priest Tik-Va, the order, the consulate of twelve... and also... to the demon who caused his death...”

Ariel waved his hand and the walls before them evaporate. They were both pulled forward without even moving from their place until they spotted two shadows, “That woman, Wren Avari”, he pointed at the kissing couple, “promising child healer... could have been a great member of the god-hand was she to be born male...”, he smiled, “Augustine... your HUSBAND... gave everything... for her”, Ariel smile grew bigger, “I believe it will be easy for a beautiful creature such as her to allure male mortals... Your HUSBAND might have fallen prey as well...”, Ariel's smile was inhuman now as it reached almost behind the lines of the face, “You were alone while he found himself a young, beautiful company... But, of course, it was all 'for the sake' of the order...”, he waited a bit and allowed her to bath in his venom.

Kay's features twisted in anger as she stared at the shadowy figures outside. She had been heartbroken when Augustine had left. And though he sent letters, they weren't adequate substitution for his warm smile and his gentle touch. Kay had shut herself inside her home, alone with her misery for years while he chased his dreams of priesthood.

Augustine had mentioned an apprentice in his letters, and Kay had secretly been outraged that the one he named was a girl. There was a reason women weren't allowed in the god-hand, and Kay had fumed that her husband was throwing away his goals that he had sacrificed so much for in order to train a girl who wouldn't even be a good successor.

And now, with Ariel's words, Kay's heart felt as if it were squeezing with all the fears that had been boiling beneath the surface for so long. She had prayed that the girl wasn't so pretty. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps this young temptress had lead to her husband's death.

"And that red haired woman is the devil who murdered him?" Kay asked, her eyes turning back to Ariel.

"She is the reason for everything...”, Ariel answered and lowered his face. For a moment it seemed that even he was bothering by something but he quickly recovered, the smile returning to his face, “She's at fault indeed. As Bolgan wrote to you, the both of them are the reason. The red hair is a devil incarnate in a disguise of holy knight, secretly questioning the origin of the holy all-father, while the young healer has left her holy path and now shamefully act as a succubus”

Ariel clapped his hands and they were both back at the house again. He grabbed Kay's hand and led her outside. The air was getting colder and the stars' light was barely reaching them. “You, who gave up everything for your husband's sanctity surely won't allow this defilement...”, he tried to be as close as he could to her, making sure his breath was the only source of warmth, “Those at fault cannot simply walk away without being punished. Your husband's soul is rutting in the depths of hell, while the heretics continue to walk upon the land of the living, contaminating the pure, the unwise lambs... Surely you, of all people, will not accept this...”, he waited a bit longer before he continued, “The all-father is merciful... It can grant your wish... for a price. You must choose now, Lady Vyre... You must allow your.... anger...”, he halted,”... Your fury... let it led this world for the better...”.

Ariel snapped his fingers. A ball of light appeared before him, in it a vision. A man was suffering, screaming as flames ate at his flesh, It was such a horrible sight that it took a while for Kay to recognize the image of the man, “CHOOSE NOW!”.

Hot tears were flowing down Kay's anguished face when and everything in her heart screamed for her to close her eyes and turn from the image Ariel showed her. But her rage was so overflowing that it was the only thing she felt anymore. She had been robbed of her husband, who in turn had been robbed of his very life. The deceit of these women, the evil they had brought onto the only person she loved, had gone far enough. Augustine would be proud of her, Kay thought with a glimmer of twisted hope. She must rid the world of these demons and those who followed them. Her brown eyes seemed to darken, turning colder as the old woman made her decision. "They will pay for their evil deeds."

Ariel felt wonderful, all those emotions fed him with new power and strength, but obviously the poor woman hadn't noticed it at all. The shadows all around them took form, something with a human kind of body lines, but at the same time they were anything but humans. They marched forward, wishing to absorb all that anger as well, "Then let us form a contract... Tell me your price... and what you wish for?"

Kay gripped silvery hair with both hands in frustration, as if unsure whether to give into the madness that surrounded her. "I want my soul to be with his when this is over," she finally said through gritted teeth. "And I want the two harlots to burn!"

"That shall be", Ariel sneered. He moved closer for the woman and grabbed her, "But for that I will need that lovely emotion", he said and watched as the woman's body was getting thiner and thiner, until only bones were left within a sack of flesh, only then he let go of her and watched the animated skeleton fell to the ground.

"I gotta say you are far better businessman then me”, said a voice. Ariel turned around to see the little boy he encountered before, “I feel rather uneasy having you as a competitor”.

"Think nothing of this”, said Ariel to Jared.

"Humble, are we?”, Jared turned to look at the woman, “But don't mind me, continue the ceremony... the fallen are hungry...”

Ariel nodded. He chanted something and the dark skies were ripped apart, forming a hole to another world. Dark hands reached out for the female skeleton and grabbed it. One hand has gone directly into the skeleton's mouth and pulled something shiny that resembled the image of Kay. Once it did, the other hands let go of the skeleton and pulled back into the rip. When the last hand, which held Kay's soul, returned inside as well, the hole closed and the sky was back to normal with no sign of the terrible sight that took place mere seconds before.

"Well, at least you've got them together”, smirked Jared, “In agony, but together”

Ariel ignored him and went for the lying skeleton. He bent next to it and chanted something again. The skeleton merged with the ground and vanished within it, but quickly appeared as a shadow. The dark figure then slowly rose from the earth, joining with the rest of the dark creatures that moved around.

"a new Nephil?”, asked Jared, “You're crueler then I thought”

"Enough, sympathy is not to be given to the weaklings... Nor to the foolish mortals that are easy to be tricked by us”, hissed Ariel.

"Whoa, temper, temper”, Jared looked around, gazing at all the shadows around him, “Well... you got about enough I say, add to that the new Nephil who's still burning with the contract and the power of revenge it sought... I think you have what you need for your next mission”.

"I don't understand this, Jared”, said Ariel, “I alone should be able to deal with those mortals at the woman's house, why going to all that trouble?”

"Emonalach's orders are clear: you are only to observe”, Jared shrugged, “If you want to question him then...”

"I won't”, said Ariel bursting into the little guy's words, “I shall continue from here... you may leave”.

But there was no need to say it for the kid was already gone.

***

Ascara- Port Town of Tallas-
(not far from Kay's house)

He was bathed in the dim light of the bonfire. The air of the desert night was surprisingly colder then usual, but he wasn't bothered. From time to time, the folds of his cloths will move with each body's shivering. His eyes were fixed at the flames, voices of the past reaching out to him, and him alone. Memories that were not his, but grew to be so.

He found himself staring at a lone candle light beside a window of a small room, as the surroundings sands of Ascara faded away, replacing themselves with the walls of his house in Ivalor. He was looking through eyes that were not his, and was unable to function the body he was caged in, only to observe.

"Your love is so pure... It's so inspiring... I wish to taint it...”

a voice called out to him. A voice with no owner, and no doubtful gender, yet still alluring.

"You say you trust your beloved? … How can it be so? … How can mortals be faithful? … Prove to me...”

He felt ethereal entity forcing itself into his body.

“I could have swallowed you whole, but... Where will the fun be?... Let's see how strong is this... love... Shall we make a bet, dear? Shall we see rather or not he will be back by the time he promised?... Let us create the contract, then, Lilyana...”

***

Alister gasped as he opened his eyes, cold sweat falling down his nape. He got up and slowly tried to get used to the darkness around him.

That dream again... or more to say a memory that was forced into him... Lilyana's....

He looked around him, alerted, knowing perfectly well that this nightmare wasn't coincidental. He knew THEY will be around him... the fiends of the night he encountered ever since he entered the lands of Ascara.

He was right. They were indeed all over, emerging from the shadows and from the cold ground. He narrowed his eyes, considering his next moves, but was surprised to learn that they didn't reach out for him, but rather turned to form a long trail of shadows as they all followed defined path.

Alister looked up and noticed that their destination was a lone house, far away from the buildings on the main streets.

Should he go and check on this incident by following the Nephilim?

***

Helena considered everything she heard up until now and knew she had to be prepared to when Arjak will come back into the house and demand answers. She herself hadn't know all the things Rosabelle had told them, but what she knew was enough for her to be so worked up. Now she considered to leave the group in order to handle things alone, for the danger seemed to be much more fearsome then she had thought. While she pondered on what to do next, the door opened and Zelvad entered the room...

Or... someone that looked very much like Zelvad but seemed to be different.

"What happened to you?!”, Graeak asked while Helena was already drawing her weapon, “The woman?! What of her?!”, she asked.

"Not now, You'd better come quick and check this out folks”, said Margureite who looked outside of the window.

"Well I'll be damned”, said Mikhail who opened the door and stepped outside. The sight of so many walking shadows was more then enough to strike fear at the heart of the old sea-dog.

Helena suddenly lost all of her powers and felt the weapon leaving her grasp, while she was unable to control her body. She crouched to the ground, feeling great pain entering her mind. She screamed with agony as she reached her hands for her head, trying her best to ease it.

Mikhail rushed for her and bent beside her, “Are you all right?”, he asked.

"What... what is the matter outside?”, Helena asked with a weak voice, although part of her already knew.

"Monstrous sight”, said Graeak who peeked outside as well, “It's the creatures the woman warned us about... I've seen sights of them before... but never so many... Do you think they will attack us?”

Margureite shrugged, “Want to go outside and asked them?”, she teased.

"I'm sure the others will be joining us soon...”, said Helena, “If I felt it, the druids and Lady Avari sure did as well...”, Helena looked up, gazing at everyone with cold blue eyes stare, “Be ready... I believe they come for us...”

(Done with the help of the lovely Anne)

StormWolf
12-01-2010, 01:47 AM
Arjak had been enjoying the company of Ciara and the others, despite the recent developments. It was nice to be among humans again for such a long time. Deep down, though, he wondered how long it would last. How long before he would be called home to the mountains and glaciers of Norgard to do his duty as Lord of Clan Andunn. Would that mean he would have to leave Ciara as well? She was pure Norgard, but would she want to leave her home in Chanclera? Arjak had gotten himself stuck between home and heart. For once, they were in different places.

The Norgard exhaled, his breath coming out in a wisp of white fog. Wait a moment... Ascara was too warm, even in the evenings, for ones breath to become like a cloud. Something was very wrong. That ball of ice in Arjak's stomach got colder and heavier, making his hackles stand up on end. Goosebumps spread out over his skin and his teeth chattered. Even in Norgard, he would never feel this cold.

"Ciara... get inside..." Arjak turned to see living shadows surrounding them, drawing closer and closer with no great haste - the pace of a creature that had eternity to complete its task. Arjak had met these creatures before, on the night that Ciara had saved his life. His keen ears ached within from the whispers of the damned that surrounded the shadows like Death's black veil. Arjak felt his strength start to leave his powerful body. He only had so much time.

Arjak pulled one of his sword-spears from the quiver on his back and threw the weapon like a javelin, the steel blade flying straight and true in to the heart of one of the shadows - the weapon passed through the shadow doing as much harm as it would if the blade was thrust in to a cloud. Arjak thought he heard a chuckle through the flurry of whispers, making the man sneer at the shadows.

"Ciara, you need to get inside." Arjak turned and gripped Ciara's arm firmly in his hand, leading her towards the doorway to the house. She resisted, as Arjak expected, wanting to fight by his side and not leave Arjak alone. The large Norgard shook her firmly with the hand on her arm, forcing her to look in to his eyes, full of fear and worry.

"Please Ciara... please go inside." She nodded slightly, seeing the fear in Arjak's eyes and allowed herself to be guided in to the door. The entire time, Arjak felt his strength failing. These monsters were closing in and they seemed to be feeding on Arjak's very life force. The Norgard fell to his knees, his muscular legs no longer able to hold him upright. He had to do something. If he didn't, the Shadows would drain the last spark of life from him. Arjak felt as if he had aged four or five decades inside; he had to act fast. Those golden eyes flared in the faint moonlight as Arjak drew upon what was left of his strength, praying to the spirits of the sky for a righteous storm of lightning to rain down upon the Shadows. By the time Arjak had finished uttering the word of power, he was almost blind. With a bright flash, a single, weak bolt of lightning hit the ground in between the Norgard and the Shadows. Dried grasses and shrubs nearby the site of the strike burst in to flames. The Shadows screamed at the bright lightning and the light of the fire. The Shadows retreated a moment - long enough for Arjak to stumble to his feet and find his way indoors before slamming the door behind him and propped himself against it, letting the warmth of life come back in to his body.

"We need fire... Light. Anything that makes light will drive them away..." Arjak croak. For a moment, his voice sounded like a man three timed his age before turning back in to the normal deep voice that everyone had become accustomed to.

Repent!
12-06-2010, 01:15 AM
A lot ran through the assassin's mind as he looked around the room. From the looks by Arjak and Ciara to replaying what Roseabelle had asked of himin his mind, asking him to keep with these people to complete his tasks, to the sight of Helena's weapon at the ready, he seemed like he was in a trance like state, moving his arms and legs slowly, but in a very fluid, yet slow motion. A withered red rose was intertwined between his index and middle finger in his right hand while his other hand was free. His trance seemed to be broken though when he was approached by Graeak.


"What happened to you?! The woman?! What of her?!”

Zelvad was about to open his mouth and give answer to a question that not even he knew the answer to, when more words from the nearest window guided him.

"Not now, You'd better come quick and check this out folks”

Looking out the window, Zelvad's eyes came across something he'd hope he would not have to face this soon. Shadows....souless and marching towards their location. The tepmerature of the area dropped enough to where breaths could be seen, Zelvad turned at the sound of Helena falling to her knees, her hands holding her head in obvious pain. Then a fiar-sized migrane hit his head and he stumbled a little, bracing himself on the walls to stay standing. 'So they feed off of magic and life energy then?', Zelvad whispered to himself.

"What... what is the matter outside?”

"Monstrous sight. It's the creatures the woman warned us about... I've seen sights of them before... but never so many... Do you think they will attack us?”

“Want to go outside and asked them?”

"I'm sure the others will be joining us soon...if I felt it, the druids and Lady Avari sure did as well.” Helena looked up, gazing at everyone with cold blue eyes stare, “Be ready... I believe they come for us...”

"If that's the case, we're left with two options..." Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Ciara entering the room a look of worry deep in her eyes. "We either find a way to fight these things until sunrise, or we run till sunrise." Shortly after Zelvad ended his sentence, the door shut as he turned to see Arjak. He looked very fatigued and aged near death, even though he was only out there for a couple minutes after the temperature dropped...Widow's grace! They worked that fast even in the desert where shadows are few and far between?!

"We need fire... Light. Anything that makes light will drive them away..."

The voice coming from Arjak's body was that of an old, decrepit old man who spent his final hours on his death bed, but soon returned to the full, confident tone that Zelvad had associated with the druid.

Mr.Cynic
12-12-2010, 08:10 PM
His buckled shoes kicked up sand through the desert. Reminding him of lonely abandoned beaches. Beaches he had only ever seen through cold whispers of others memories. Dead and damned, they spoke to him. His eyes drifted slightly, but he instinctual knew where to follow. It wasn't that he hadn't anything set in his sights. He saw the Nephilim and he saw them gathering clumping together like raw sandcastles. As he made his way closer and closer. Sand found ways into his shoes and in his clothes. He felt dry, as dry as the air around. All though it was a cool night, it was a night that absorbed everything from you. Made you drift and fall into slumber dreams you never wanted to have. As he made his way closer to the Nephilim gathered, he realized a house, and as he squinted his eyesight quite lazily he realized inside the house were people as well. Alister gave a bit of sigh.

Of sandcastles, seashores, and deserts. They were never as abandoned as people hoped. Just by their stance alone, the Nephilim surely were going to attack. The people to him had no distinct regard in his mission. But he could hear holy whispers that purged his usual nightmarish take. "Save them" she whispered. Or it whispered. The relic who held his beloved encased. It reminded him of the old fables of a man turned ugly, his true soul forever locked within in a rose, till he found true love. Though this was a bit different. He clenched his cross and made his way closer. He wondered what a house was doing in a desert anyway.

He clenched his cross tightly in his hand and stared at the house. Words and colors churned inside his mind. Of seashores and beaches he stood there remembering waves that could no longer been seen. He closed his eyes, but swore to not see dreams as he clenched his cross tighter to his chest. He took a deep breath in as if he was meditating on what though. All his memories faded as he tried to bring them to life. Like paintings melting in a house fire. Each masterful stroke of the painters life work fading and fading, dripping. The once smiles now looked like screams until they were burned away, no longer able to breath. As he tried to focus harder, he saw a light he use to see. A light that was no longer in his soul.

As dried as this desert it seemed, as dried as the sun it would seem. It was only brief. As if the souls from the painting were being poured into the atmosphere, drifting dangling.

"Lilyana, I ask for your strength. I ask for your holy powers to purge those wicked and evil," he said.

His cross shined with a rather dull light, but it was certainty a powerful site to see in the desert night. A cool light that seemed to dance on sand dunes. And if people gathered to see what the Nephilim saw, they would have seen a ghost hands outstretched wide. (http://oi52.tinypic.com/zim1z8.jpg) As if it wanted to absorbed every fiber of their being. As if it wanted to take away the dried souls of evil, and eat them. Consume them. There was a kind of haunting madness. No, it was an angel. And the Nephilim understood this. However this angel, as beautiful, and ethereal.

Was corrupted and within in her radiance purity lie nightmares. Scenes of violence and abuse seemed to switch back and forth within in minds. And in those minds they saw this woman's suffering. Crying tears. But as quickly as she came, she seemed to disappear. But she also had seemed to push back the Nephilim, who were retreating. Those who understood the connection to this soul, left empty and hollow as she was. Alister collapsed to one knee. Trying to push back like that, he shouldn't have tried. He was eternally tired and he was fighting going back to sleep. He clumsily tried standing, what he needed now was to get closer to the house to make sure those who were to escape were all right.

Sand kicked up as he stumbled upwards, tired. His eyes blinking, as scenes of abandoned homes and fires came into his mind. He could feels things move within in him. He could feels things trying to come out. But he continued kicking up sand refusing them to enter. He couldn't sleep, he couldn't be reminded of the shame and the grief. He couldn't sleep. He must lay eternally awake like the man cursed to a rose. Until the rose withered and died, or until she came back up from her grave. A husk zombie more or less. Distraught as he was. But at least things would be set right. He could imagine her happy once more in her city. Her flesh decaying and maggots wiggling from her eyes.

Oh what had the demons done to her soul. Tainted her and used her, slept with her. Corrupted her perfect and beautiful white skin for their own pleasure. He could see it perfectly, dreams to tease him of what he let go. The painting of the small family, with her intended to be in the picture burning from his memories oil from the canvas bubbling and sizzling. No he couldn't sleep he must open his eyes. And he did. To stare into the bleak night of the desert.

Repent!
12-17-2010, 12:38 PM
While the assassin was looking for items to set ablaze, a flash of light caught the corner of his eye. He sharply turned and looked out of the window again. The shadows were retreating away from the house and from the man the light came from outside. The figure he summoned was fading quickly, which meant that he was most likely severly weakened by his travels. This was even more true when saw the man nearly fall unconscious then rise again through sheer force of will. He had no idea who this man was or why he was here.

Though Zelvad understood one thing: If the shadows returned, that man was as good as dead. With this in mind, He only stopped long enough to look out the door to see if any of the other shadows were still around as he ran full tilt towards the lone, stumbling figure in the desert....

Kris
12-20-2010, 05:52 PM
Little by little Helena realized that she had trouble keeping herself standing. Her body was heavier and cold sweat was running down her back. The weight of the armor and the gears she carried were only added burden. Voices were soon unable to reach her and her sight was fading. She felt sudden great urge to sleep along with unbearable headache.

If she could just... lie down and rest... yeah that would surely be the cure for it... yes.. just a little...

She reached within the vagueness, looking for something to sit upon when the door burst open. She flinched the moment she heard the wooden door hitting the house's wall as it slammed against it. It was the first clear sound that reached her and remind her where she was. She looked up in realization, noticing Arjak who was standing at the front, pulling Ciara inside.

"We need fire... Light. Anything that makes light will drive them away..."

Lord Arjak... When did he come here?... Well that should matter little now.. He requested... what did he requested?...

Her mind was fading again...

"Hel—na”

The new voice was a bit disturb but she was able to catch hint of her name. Helena raised her head and locked eyes with Mikhil. She tried her best to ignore him but for some reason her gaze wasn't the only thing that turned for the other side. Her whole body moved without control and hands were reached out for her, hanging below her arms in order sustain her balance.

"Easy now”, a male voice said. Most likely Mikhil's. Somehow Helena realized that she was about to fall and thanked her savior, but at the same time wished to keep his hands away. She didn't feel right to be held like that by a man. It was wrong...

A lady must act accordingly.

Helena pushed the hands and stumbled once they let go of her, since she did needed their support. She hit the ground feeling some pain in her left knee as a result from the impact, but the headache was still so much grater that she didn't care much for it.

Naturally, the hands were beside her again, but this time not so definite as before. She noticed they were somewhat more gentle, not wishing to be rejected before she was being helped leaning against one of the house's wall. Only then did the hands retreated, almost immediately since the owner knew that they were not welcomed or allowed, but Helena still felt their present beside her. Mikhil must wished to make sure she will not fall again and was still close to her.

Only that... She didn't plan to. She had to be strong and reject his hands and touch... after all a lady...

“A lady must act accordingly”.

A voice.

Somewhat distance and far yet awfully familiar.

Helena nodded her head and tried to shake off her dizziness. Now was definitely not the time to lose courage... or sanity for that matter. They were all under attack after all... Were they... not...?

….?!

Helena looked around. She saw and heard nothing. The pain was gone yet she was feeling colder. She took some deep breathes as she noticed a figure in the distance, a tall image of a man. He looked around, his face too far to point anything from it.

“A lady must act accordingly”.

His back was turned to her and he started to march in the darkness. Somehow, in this place with no light, he had a trail of shadow that continued to increase with each step.

Helena tried to reach for him, but realize she was unable to move and no matter how hard she tried, no voice escaped her lips. She was caged in a void of silence, feeling great fear and despair. a cold tear fall down her right cheek, before a breeze wind of warmth hit her face. A light followed it, and Helena closed her eyes since it was becoming hard to look at.

When she reopened them she found people around her, looking worried. Mikhil sighed and Graeak grinned, “It's nice you decided to come back to us”

“Back to...”, Helena looked around only now noticing that she was lying on the floor.

When did she fall?

She got up and rubbed her neck, still feeling the tear's trail on her face. She held her head between her hands as the pain returned to attack her, like a knife stabbing deep into her skull over and over again, but it was less sore then before.

"What the hell is that?”, feminine voice called. Helena realized it was Margureite, “A man... and some light he creates?!”

Helena didn't know what has been going on, but for some reason the present of the shadows was becoming easier to bear. She could also feel the power coming from a light attribute attack.

Was it Wren?

"Let... Let us retreat from here...”, she said weakly.

Mr.Cynic
12-22-2010, 11:27 PM
As the waves of the oceans consume those swimming, the sand felt as if it were dragging and taking away life in this night. Alister could barely tell reality apart from the fantasy as the need of sleep took over his bodies. Strange specter whispers, as phantoms dangle their lips over his ears. He sees a young man in the distance or maybe he was more closer than he thought, cast aside in heavy oceans. Though this was no ocean, this was the dessert he had to remind him of this. Yet, Lilyana's favorite memories were bleeding into his conscious thought and ethereal ghost began to bleed into his mind. No longer telling if he were awake or asleep.

He awoke in reality, a reality that was not which of his own. But that of her. That of Lilyana. As she was cursed to the bounds of hell. This time he's the one to stare at her. Her supple purity tainted by the rage, desire, and darkness that was of this realm. She noticed his glance and she turned around again. And as she took the turn to stare at him, he turned away from her. He no longer felt good enough to stare at her image. For he's the one who had bound her here.

"Save me,"

Whispers the same whispers, flowing in his head the way a river winds past canyon edges. And he watched as shadows grabbed her hands, the whiteness of the angel suddenly blackened.

"She calls for you Alister," said a voice of the sky.

"She screams for help, and she screams in pain for you,"

"Demon, I swear if you do anything to her, I will take you to the deepest parts of the abyss, somewhere you couldn't thrive, you'd feel pain you'd never thought existed," Alister said a rage inside of him emerging.

"What can you do Alister?"

"What can you do?"

Someone placed their hand on his shoulder and there it stood. A mass of evil, just merely a shadow that stared at him. The shadow who stroked his hands on her white skin, who took her despite her begging. Despite her pain. He had known her as an angel. And this, this shadow was slowly, but surely taking her away until she became just like whatever it was.

"Don't you just want to give up,"

"Sleep forever in this new reality,"

"I will awake," Alister said.

"For how long before you die?"

"For as long as I can,"

"The less you sleep the more be she becomes mine,"

"I'll free her, I'll free her,"

"By the time you do that, she'll have forgotten about you,"

"She wouldn't,"

"Oh Alister, soon she'll be screaming for my name, and you the demon in her life, ehahaahahaahaa,"

"She'll never..."

"What Alister? Forget? Of course, she won't forget the man who betrayed her. I'm giving her the things you never gave her,"

The hand on his shoulder gripped hard, he could hear the being breathing in his ear. And it was this feeling that shared terrors, shared the nightmares. Villages burning, woman fighting off soldiers who ripped their clothes, children beheaded, and blood in the streets.

"Alister, sleep," said the voice, it was calming now, now more like a tune or lullaby.

"Sleep,"

And he did, diving deeper a sleep within in a dream.

"Sssssh,"

Repent!
12-25-2010, 09:07 PM
Zelvad arrived as the stranger beagn to fall unconsious. Upon grabbing the man however, the man's mind shot painful glimpses to the assassin's. Such a surge caused Zelvad to fall back to the ground, causing the man to fall to the dirt in an unconscious state. His hands seared in pain, causing Zelvad to give a slight yelp and a pained grimace as he brought his eyes to see his hands. There were no physical injuries except for the nosebleed that dripped to grace his spider necklace, but the pain was very real. Despite his pain, Zelvad was determined to save this man from the desert just as he did for them. Zelvad pulled off the latch that held his tunic firm on his body and fastened it to his trousers.

He then removed the tunic enough for his hands to be covered before he tried to lift the man again, and again the pain hit almost as severly as before. If it wasn't for his clothes, the burden of the visions in this man's head would have overtaken Zelvad and dropped him as well. However he was now being subjected to a uncomfortable burning sensation as he held the man's right arm over his shoulders. "Come on, you need to staywith me here. Our thanks will mean nothing if you die, stranger."

Anne Bonny
01-03-2011, 09:26 PM
Just as Raphael was suggesting they return to the small house with the others, Wren felt a sudden chill wash over her. She paused in her steps, every nerve in her body screaming that something was wrong.

"Raph..." she began, but her voice caught in her throat as a sudden, splitting headache overtook her. Her hands left the pirate's arm and Wren pressed them to her temples in pain.

Raphael called her name in alarm, but his voice sounded muffled beneath the ringing in her ears. "We need to get inside," she finally managed through gritted teeth.

Wren was glad for Raphael's strong hands that firmly held her and guided her up the porch steps and into the house. The scene inside, however, was chaos. Helena was on the floor, her fair face twisted in pain, with Mikhail hovering over her in worry. The sturdy Arjak's voice waivered as he called for kindling to throw into the fire. Something is attacking the magic users, Wren realized in horror.

Raphael lead her to a chair with an order to stay put before moving away to help Arjak and the others break apart other furniture for the fire. But Wren had no intention of remaining still. Everyone else was in the room, but where was the old woman who the house belonged to? She frowned against the throbbing pain in her head and pushed herself back to her feet, taking slow, shaky steps toward the kitchen.

It had been the room where she had seen the old woman disappear into last, but now the kitchen stood deserted. The teapot was resting on the table, a towel lay discarded nearby. Wren stared in disbelief, certain that in her pain she was missing some detail. How could she have disappeared without a trace?

"Don't waste your time," came a voice over her shoulder. Wren looked up to see Marguerite, the pirate girl looking down at her. "She either fled when the shadows came, or she knew they were coming and got to safety before they got here. Either way, we're on our own."

Knew they were coming? Wren repeated to herself. "A trap? Why?"

Marguerite rolled her eyes and set about gathering items from the kitchen. A wooden rolling pin, two cloth towels, a mixing spoon, anything that would quickly burn. "Seems we just can't catch a break," was all she said before hurrying back into the other room.

Wren blinked in confusion. Something just didn't add up, but it was nothing she could focus on at the moment. She felt so tired, as if all of her strength had been sapped away, and her body begged from relief from the pain in her head. If only she could heal herself, and Helena and the others, but she just didn't have the energy. She leaned against the wall behind her, unsure how long she would be able to stay on her feet.

Then without warning or reason, the pain lifted. Wren froze in place, afraid it might return if she moved. But to her side, Helena was stirring too, and Marguerite was saying she saw a man outside, and a light. Was that their savior?

Taking a deep breath, Wren stepped out among the others, and to her great relief, she was feeling stronger with every step. She pushed her way to the window to see Zelvad trying to help up the stranger Marguerite had spotted. The mysterious man had collapsed, it seemed, and Wren wondered if the same shadows that had attacked him had done damage to him too. But Helena and she had began to recover, why would the stranger remain unconcious? She clasped her hands together in worry.

"I see what you're thinking," Raphael said at her side, his tone quiet, concerned. "You need to take it easy. You could hardly stand a moment ago. I think you should rest a moment before trying to help yet another poor soul."

Wren pressed her lips together as she concidered her response. She couldn't agree to such an idea. If the man was in immediate need, how could she stand by and let him suffer? "I won't make a decision until I can see him for myself."

She reached for the pirate's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Besides, I am feeling stronger every minute."

Mysteria
01-05-2011, 01:38 AM
At the sound of Reye's warning of danger ringing out from the skies above Ciara's gaze had been turned towards the cawing only to be drawn back to the present by Arjak's words "Ciara... get inside..."

Ciara immediately turned her attention back to the Norgard but her gaze did not stop upon his form but instead, looked beyond him as an undescribable chill swept over her. This feeling was not uknown to her, she had felt it before the first night when she had found Arjak in the woods under attack by the "Niphilim" or "shadow people" as they were more commonly referred to.

With one swift movement Ciaras dagger was in her hand but the Norgard seemed to have other ideas for her. "Ciara, you need to get inside." Her protests were met by a firm hand on her arm guiding her towards the house. Ciara was not afraid of these beings. Had she not helped protect Arjak from them before? Although she knew that unlike before, she did not have fire handy to turn the shadows away but it did not prevent her from resisting as he pulled on her.

"Arjak, please, I assure you.." Her words were cut off abruptly as Arjaks hand tightened around her, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Please Ciara... please go inside." Upon seeing the look of concern in Arjaks eyes she nodded slightly, agreeing and as she was about to step inside she could see Arjak calling upon the sky spirits. The door was closed behind her only to be opened a few moments later by Arjak as he stumbled inside looking as though death itself had tried to take him. "We need fire... Light. Anything that makes light will drive them away..."

Worry flashed across Ciara's face before slowly fading away as Arjaks voice returned to normal. Even as her eyes scanned the room for anything they could burn her mind kept returning to Arjaks commanding her to go inside. Although it was true that Ciara stood in awe of the powers that Arjak had learned to harness and master her anger at having been ordered around simmered inside of her and she felt it increasingly harder with each passing moment to stay her tongue.

Just who did he think he was anyhow? Lord or no Lord she would not abide him ordering her around as though she were one of his common harlet chamber maids.

As a flurry of events began to unfold both inside of the small room along with outside of the building they were held up in, Ciara couldn't help but notice that Wren appeared to be growing stronger as did some of the others. Even the severe cold that Ciara had felt earlier was dissipating slowly. Had the shadows fled and if so, why so suddenly?

Ciara waited along with the others for the Paladin to speak again but moved towards Arjak, cautiously and still on edge but with intent of the Norgard hearing her words cut through all of the other chatter in the room " I am glad that your strength has returned Lord al'Andunn, but know this Stormcaller, it would be wise in the future for you to not presume to tell this Norgardian woman of ancestry what she should and should not do." Ciaras dark olive eyes burned into the Norgards own lupine orbs as the words rolled off of her tongue.

Arjak's dark eyebrows furrowed slightly as Ciara berated him with harsh words that fell off of a sinister tongue. His mouth curled in a small sneer at Ciara's attitude. Could she not see that he wanted her to be safe, more than anything? He risked his life to make sure she didn't even experience pain, and he gets treated like some kind of oppressor. He just did what he thought was the right thing to do. Arjak still felt weak from the Nephilim and had no desire to argue with Ciara.

"Very well, Ciara. I'll not be there to shield your back if you do not wish me to." With that, the burly Norgard turned from Ciara and went about breaking down old furniture to serve as food for the fire. He looked over his shoulder at Ciara, his golden eyes faintly glimmering, sadness and anger in those orbs of gold.

The Norgard was insufferable! She'd not told him that he could not shield her or fight beside of her. She'd merely cautioned him on treating her as though she was less than what she was, which was a woman of great pride and little fear. Ciara watched as he walked away and his glance back at her had not gone unnoticed by her keen eyes. Could he not see that her desire was not to have him die for her if need be, but rather die beside of her if need be?

Ciara stood quietly. No, now was not the time or place for this discussion, there was much more at stake than just her and Arjaks own fates. Walking over to where Arajk was, kneeling down and joining him with breaking what wood she could, her hand brushed his ever so slightly as she reached for the next piece of wood. For a brief moment she caught his gaze, her eyes softening as she spoke "We shall speak soon, Arjak" she said as her fingers grazed the back of his hand lightly "Now, is not the time."

Arjak simply nodded as he drove his fist through a side table, splintering the small piece of furniture to kindling, "I look forward to it." Arjak said as calmly as he could and gathered the wood, tossing it haphazardly in to a pile. Why was it so hard to understand why he did this? Other than the fact that Arjak was bound by a debt of honor, he cared for Ciara as much as he cared for his sisters, and that was why he protected Ciara the way he did. Arjak's sisters acting ungrateful for his protective nature was one thing, but Arjak had an eye of passion for Ciara. Could she see that? Would she want him to? With a sigh, Arjak moved over to a window, looking for more of the Shadow People.

"We should try and get out of the city. Either we get hunted by the guards in the day, or we get stalked by the Nephilim by night."

{A Stormie/Mysti blending}

Mr.Cynic
01-07-2011, 10:42 PM
And then there it was. Even in his own dreams he began to drift into something deeper than sleep. Something in between both life and death, cursed just like her. He could see the images of her dress on cobblestone streets. Colors and images to reflect her youth. But they were all beginning to fade in the thick molasses like dark fog. And then like light trying to penetrate water was a shimmering within in the darkness. It could breath enough life into him, consciously knowing he was drowning. But it certainly was light of reality trying to penetrate the deep seduction of the thick cursed fog. Still hands clung unto him. She didn't want him to go, but he knew it wasn't her. Yet he still wouldn't open his eyes. Afraid to look upon the degrading world of reality. As warnings of forlorn hope slipped into his dreams, buildings crumble, and mothers cried over their child's bodies. Yet, still brief flickers of light shimmered on the surface of the thick fog. Like little starlight fishes.

As if he were truly drowning his eyes shot open and he began to cough. The way you would if air was choked from your body. He stared at the person whom he assumed was trying to aid him. The person hadn't yet noticed he was up, but he made more than a little groan for a moment and stumbled to get up. Shaking the sand from his hands and staring at the crowd. Words churned in his head, but somehow couldn't connect to his mouth for a moment. He knew this was reality, yet he pinched himself. Not to see however, if he was dreaming. But to keep him awake with pain. It felt better and less bitter than the darkness bellowing in his mind.

"Who..are..you?" he asked the young man slowly as he tried to connect words from his brain to his mouth.

Repent!
01-16-2011, 09:43 PM
"Who...are...you?"

As the stranger began to regain his composure, Zelvad moved to let the man stand on his own as the assassin looked on. His ability to recover as fast as he did twice in one day was astounding...truly his full power must be a sight to behold. Zelvad spoke as he began placing his tunic to its previous position, fastening it in place.

"Me? I am but one of a group of souls you have spared from the grip of death and insanity. We can save detailed introductions for once we are out of this accursed desert however." Zelvad then turned his full attention to the man in front of him. "If you can hold steady on your own two feet, do so. I assume my newfound traveling companions are prepared to depart for when the shadows return and it will be faster if no one is being dragged along. Will you join us?"

Kris
01-18-2011, 09:37 PM
Ascara- Port Town of Tallas

Cronus was furious. He stared at the curtain of fog that spread around him and hide the water (and everything else) from his view. He stood upon the wharf, where the crimson Strahl was waiting, abandoned, thinking of the cursed events that caused the elder Lieorian to escape his grasp. He knew the traitor was still at town, but the Nephilims were all over the place, preventing him from moving as freely as he wanted to. The only safe place appeared to be near the sea.

"Mr. Audata. Shouldn't you be heading for Chanclera to claim the Lunar Fangs? Delay no more. I have my plans set, and you shall not seize the elder, Lieorian, tonight”.

Cronus should have been bothered by the enigmatic presence that escaped his notice, but he wasn't. He was too angry to care. Hissing, he turned around and removed his black robe half way from his body in order to reveal his right hand that held a thin steel short sword, “I do as I please, and I won't take any orders from the likes of you”.

Emonalach's expression was still calm and fixed, yet after a short while he bothered to lazily look at blade that was pointed at him.

Cronus smirked as he tighten his hold upon the hilt and thought of all the lovely possibilities he could make of the sword, punishing the cursed fiend for having his dark minions all over the place, which was the main reason his prey was able to escape.

“I admire valor, Mr. Audata”, Emonalach said, his voice playful, “But I would advice you to control your rage and act your place”.

Cronus laughed. He brought the blade closer to his face and gaze at it with such admiration as if seeing it for the first time. He waved it from side to side, enjoying it, while clearly ignoring the 'friendly' advice (and the adviser).

"Alas, I am not here for quarrels, Mr. Audata”, said Emonalach, hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Of course”, said Cronus as he lifted his eyes from the sword and looked at Emonalach. He smirked again before Veiling himself and the sword within the dark cloak.

"Mr. Audata”, said Emoanalach and closed his eyes. a moment passed before he opened them up and spoke once more, “The elder Rosabelle has awaken the spider...”.

Cronus tilted his head.

“The boy you met at the market today was a pure blooded assassin”

The smile faded from Cronus' face as he recalled of the guy that interrupted his hunt. Awaken or not, the man's fate to die was sealed the moment he stepped in and helped the traitor. Cronus considered it and realized that he should enjoy the unexpected opportunity to kill not one, but two traitors of the clan. The smile climbed back up to his face.

“...Let me guess...”, he said, “You want something from me.... Otherwise, why telling me all this, right?”

"You're pure blooded too, Mr. Audata. You knew it the moment the elder Lieorian has chosen you as his underling. You, who wished for a simple Trader life, has turned out to be made of what your clan detest the most. That is the true reason for your unsatisfied hatred of those who channel and wield forces of nature and life...”

Cronus chuckled, “That's not news”.

"The clan however isn't informed about your lord trader. Dravon Shylock made sure it will stay hidden fact. Having his power had opened you many paths, but I can give you far more power”, Emonalach smiled, “You see, I can't have you running around killing people. I didn't mind the death of Sinclair as your Lord Trader wished it, but...”, Emonalach became silent all at once. Knowing he might have said too much to the wrong person he looked as if he was considering his next coming words, “In return for your obedience I shall awaken you as well. Can you even understand the amount of power I'm suggesting for you to have? Being less reckless then you are, is a small price to pay, is it not?”

“I should be dancing over your dead body right about now for just suggesting this to me, but I find it amusing to know just how much making me a pawn will be safer for you”, Cronus smiled with delight, “I won't be Bolgan number two”.

"Very well, Mr. Audata. Just bear in mind that my deal with your Lord Trader isn't a sealed fact. Once he proves to be obstacle to me, I shall rid myself of him, and you along”.

Emonalach turned around and the fog turned to cover him as he vanished from view.

“I will consider any disturbance from your side as his violating of my deal with him”, Emonalach last warning was carried by the wind and Cronus had to admit that tonight Emonalach has shown far more of his true colors then his normal cool self normally allowed him to.

Something about Sinclair's group made him totally lose self control. What can be so important about those people?!

Or maybe... not all of them...

Cronus smirked to himself. Yes, he wasn't exactly pleased with leaving all his remaining deeds in Ascara but he decided to head for Chanclera right away. He might not kill anyone tonight, but he had a strong card over Emonalach. That, alone, was far better then killing simple humans.

He head into the Strahl and set sail. He would leave the vessel once he will get to Ivalor, allowing his master a fancy ride to Ascara.

***

Kilyna run as fast as she could, following her falcon. The lights and the eerie of magic did not gone by her without notice and she wanted to find the source. She needed to know who was crazy enough to stand outside and fight the dark ghouls.

She stopped at a safe distance, and lit up small wood to be used as a torch. The flame enable her to see the two oversize jaguars that joined by her side. At the far distance she noticed two men who were surrounded by the shadows.

She bit her lips. The last thing she wanted to do was get close to the things that killed so many of her crew. She sighed and started to run, the falcon and the cats behind her.

Not long ago she was informed where her ship, “The Reverse Angel”, and what was left of her men were kept and held. She needed someone to help her rescue them all. If they were brave enough to challenge the shadows, they might have been what she was looking for. Helping them now would prove useful later.


(Stormwolf, thank you very much for the help :) ).

StormWolf
01-20-2011, 08:16 AM
(Kris has given me permission to control Lance's character)

Things were getting very dangerous and very complicated very fast - that was excluding Ciara's mood swing. Some mysterious samaritan had attempted to rescue the lot of them from the Shadow People only to fall prey to the Nephilim's power and crumble to the ground like a burnt-out watchtower. Zelvad, playing the part of the noble savior, ran out without so much as a warning to try and rescue the fellow. The bloody fool would get them both killed. Arjak knew this as he watched from the window of the hut, his golden eyes catching the faint light of the moon, causing his eyes to emit a faint glow, like the eyes of an animal when its eyes are glanced by torch light.

"We need to get them out of there... We all need to get out. Staying holed up like rats will accomplish nothing." Arjak spoke to the room as he turned from the window. "We either fall victim to the Shadow People tonight or we get locked in a dungeon tomorrow at first light. We need to leave." Arjak's eyes darted all across the room at a frantic rate, plans unfolding and then scrapping themselves in his head because of their foolishness. Why couldn't Arjak be more like his father? Perrin al'Andunn was one of the greatest generals in Norgard history; easily the greatest in the last two centuries. He could conjure genius plans at the drop of a hat, so why couldn't Arjak?

The burly Norgard was just about to give up hope when he saw Graeak sitting in a corner, hugging his knees to his chin. Arjak smirked and strode over to the little mage.

"You, on your feet." Arjak barked as he grabbed the skinny mage by the collar and pulled him off of the ground before setting Graeak back on his feet. "It's high time we made use of you.... mage." Arjak smirked a dangerous looking smile at the mage and guided the smaller man towards the window.

"What are you talking ab-" Graeak started to protest but had his words cut short by Arjak's hand upside the back of the mage's head. "Hey!"

"Listen carefully, mage. If we stay here, we will die - be it tonight or tomorrow. You are the only one here who can summon and sustain a constant source of light. You are going to be our torch as we escape from here." Arjak's mind was starting to race, the plan unfolding in his head. Graeak saw the look in Arjak's eyes and swallowed a wad of saliva to try and wet his dry throat,

"Are you daft, Norgard? There is just desert out there? Where will we go...." Graeak's voice trailed off as he tapped a finger against his lips, "Xanas... The town of Xanas is not that far from here, but those things are out there and I am tired and... and...." Graeak looked Arjak in the eyes, feeling like he was shrinking under those intense golden eyes and the rest of his protest withering away like a dried Ascarian fern. Normally Graeak would stand up to someone who was so demanding, but the look in Arjak's eyes wired the mage's jaw shut. Arjak was reminding Graeak of a wounded animal that was backed in to a corner. The first thing to set it off would be ripped to pieces.

"I'll do it..." Graeak muttered, wringing his hands together and tugging on his tunic. Arjak nodded sharply and turned to face the others, taking them all in, adding them as factors to the scheme unfolding in his mind.

"Everyone, we need to leave immediately. Grab whatever you can use as a torch. We leave for the town of Xanas. The mage will show us the way." Arjak stepped out on to the porch, glaring out in to the darkness of the night. "First things first, we need to save those bloody fools." Graeak stumbled out on to the porch after the burly Norgard, summoning an orb of light in his hands that caused the Nephilim to screech at its glare. Arjak and Graeak started to slowly advance, the light slowly pushing the Nephilim back.

There was that noise again, the noise of dozens of little creatures scuttling about nearby. There was a scent too, above the foul smell of the Nephilim and the scent of animal fur, there was the scent of sea salt and female musk. Someone was lurking about, spying on the Shadow People themselves.

Repent!
01-30-2011, 04:09 AM
{ Co from Clyde and Myself }

Before Zelvad could gather an answer from the man before him, his attention was quickly diverted by the noise of animals nearby, and the sight of Arjak emerging from the inn followed by Graeak, the man who had guided the group to the inn who now seemed to be a mage of sorts. "Time is of the essence stranger. The time to move is now...what say you? Yay or nay?"

The scream of reality blurred between lines of dreams and curses. Shadows forged themsleves into his mind and sat there, as if lingering like patches of fog. His mind was working slower, but his awareness was much sharper. It was an odd moment and odd dull of sensations.

"I do not believe I should come," Alister spoke honestely, "Unless our journeys merge."

Alister took a moment talking of his own curses and his own battle wounds was not natural.

"I am on a journey for someone else, not myself," Alister said.

"Our journeys have merged though, here and now we stand at a crossroad that will lead toward salvation or destruction. I'm sure we find what you're someone else is looking for while we move towards a more safe area to plan our next move." Something inside told the Chancleran that this man was important, something above his magical power, above the mans amazingly fast recovery time. Zelvad would hope that the man would agree with him, though that's all he could really do...hope.

Alister took a moment watching the sand dunes wave like the way light twinkled on water's surface. He listened to the man rapidly.

"I suppose," Alister said, "But...I bring danger.

"I'm sure it can be nothing worse than these shadows that threaten our homes. Who knows? You may be able to find peace within while traveling with us. Time is of the essence and we must move now! Will you join us?." Zelvad himself knew he was lying out of his ass at that point and just trying to make the stranger feel better about himself. The glimpse he caught when he tried to catch the man earlier was enough to show that he was a troubled man, desperately searching for inner peace with whatever sins caused his current mental state. Though at this current point in time, despite what dangers he may bring, the assassin was absolutely positve that The Widow herself placed this man before him as a way to understand his own newfound abilities.

Alister stared at the one recruiting him. It reminded him of when they, the paladins of good faith recruited him. He back then was so naive, so naive. He hadn't seen the seas that now plagued him. Or the burning and melting paint that was dripping. He now saw the bigger picture, the better picture, the more clear picture.

He took a moment his mind floating within in a memory he could barely recall, and floating in the sea drifting from the land. The waves were taking him and he had almost forgotten what was in his way. Specter shadows and phantom voices spoke softly to him, trying to take him down into the deepest pits of the sea. Taking him to the rifts, were bones of ancients lay and spirits of ancestors stay stuck to their holy grounds.

He may have forgotten where he was, in the heat of the dessert if there wasn't a shift in the sand as someone changed their position. Alister truly had know intentions of staying with them. Back then he was naive, but not now. Not ever more. He remember the rays of golden sun, but were faded by the sea that engulfed them. Pitch darkness as spineless jellyfish bob up and down, tentacles each delicately holding unto the other.

"I was naive," Alister said, "To believe the message of another. I devoted my life to it, to a cause that was someone else's and my message was drowned out by the memories of the wicked waves. If I aid another's cause...I will drown only deeper in the sea."

Alister meant to walk off at this point, but as he did so it felt as if he were trudging in mud. Another dream within being awake and alert, but being concious. A force made itself known and he took a moment at the rest of a group. There he stood as if a stone statue was staring at him. Helena of the paladins. Another who had lost their message in the sea of the depraved.

"Do you have any others?" Alister asked, "Paladins?"

"Aye, a paladin and a healer both from Ivalor....they are the ones that, to my understanding, have brought the rest of our band together." The assassin turned his head to see Arjak and the mage were getting closer. "The shadows will soon return and I will not leave you to fall here when they return. Join us and surely you will find solace from the seas of your mind."

He frowned, this was not of any of his plans. But must be consequences of the gods.

"Fine," he muttered.

Kris
02-03-2011, 01:01 PM
Kilyna halted some distance away and watched as her cats dashed as they tried to slash the fiends. As happened the last time, their claws met nothing but air.

"You there!", Kilyna cried to Alister and Zelvad, "Are you being crazy or just don't have any will left to live? Get away from them already!".

Kilyna run for the two, joined by her huge cats and falcon that soar high above, She helped Zelvad carried Alister and was met by the rest of the group, each of them carrying quick made torches in their hands. Kilyna realized they might have some experience with how to battles those ghouls.

They were joined by another two and were about to leave when a red hair female blocked her path. Kilyna knew right away that she detested that look of suspicion that was reflected from the paladin's blue eyes.

"What's your problem?", Kilyna narrowed her eyes.

Helena merely looked away, "How is he doing?", she turned to Zelvad, not looking him in the eyes, "We must leave here!", she added right away, not waiting for reply.

Zelvad sighed as he realized that he was in charge of carrying the man.

***

3 days later
Ascara- Town of Xanas

"The first thing that I considered was that we might be unable to run… then I realized we might die too", Kilyna said slowly.

Most of the group was around her, sitting and listening to her tale. Helena stood far, but in hearing reach. She stood beside one of the Inn's windows that observe the market.

It has been a day since Zelvad said he needed to leave for personal business and the paladin couldn't shake off the thought that he might have been captured. She didn't know why, but she worried about the young man. Maybe it was her maternal nature taking over as usual, just like it has been for her with Wren. Sure she didn't trust the assassin yet, but something about him was not as threatening as she thought he might be.

Margureite was all too excited to meet another female pirate like herself that she drank the tales that Kilyna told with eagerness to hear more. Graeak didn't care much. He would just look at Helena, hoping for some reaction if the people that were after them found out about their new hideout. The fear took over him and he was busier keeping himself calm then actually having any interest of what was going on. The others were sure he was not found of his new situation, but admire him for sticking with them so far.

Wren was taking care of Alister, that is, whenever he was no fully awake. Otherwise he would just go crazy and ask to be left alone. Most the time it was Arjak that needed to calm Raphael down each time Alisten snapped. Raphael grew too protective of Wren and everyone thought noticed it, even Mikhail that never stopped teasing the pirate about it.

Occasionally Arjak and Ciara would go alone and come back after a short while. They would use the time to scan the area, keeping in mind that Cronus was still around as they heed the words of wisdom of Zelvad, stating that Cronus might have far more power in this city that the group was aware of, and the guards would mark them as wanted criminals on sight, and everyone knew that being captured was not an option to them for everyone wanted to leave the desert kingdom as soon as possible, the individual reason mattered not.

Some reasons, however, were known: Helena wanted to head for Ivalor ever since heard rumors about the kingdom being closed off. She worried about her mother, at least that's what Wren suggested the reason was. Wren however wasn't as eager to go back and even Helena told her that she wouldn't allow her to return until High Priest Tik-Va was back. Arjak once said that he felt uneasy being here for so long, without hearing any news of his town and Ciara mentioned that when the chance would arise that they should return to Norgard. Raphael heard about the Strahl being taken off, and despite him acting pretty reserved about it, the group knew that the man was in pain, hiding his true feeling about the situation.

Most of them get along well with one another. The greatest Silence was among Helena and Arjak. The two would simply just stare at one another if they bump into each other with furious faces and leave without another glance. It was obvious that something happened between them, but they were not ready to solve it yet, so it seems. One time, however, Helena told him that she will explain to him everything when the assassin returns.

"I watched many of my men being… eating… if you call what I see 'feeding'… the men that were attacked grew colder and slowly shrunk… until the bones were almost visible. Then they would just fall… dead…", Kilyna continued.

Helena lowered her head the moment she heard the last word.

"The few who still had will and power to flee gets away… Including me, I'd say we were about twelve people…", Kilyna moved her gaze from one person to another, hoping to see many eyes and expression, most of them showing the same feeling. Kilyna sighed, "Our ship was still at the port… The guards ran into us… It wasn't hard for them to make one and one… and to know who we were…", Kilyna smirked, patting her two tigers, "Nesera was attacking one guard, that almost got me, while Serai and Terri made path for me to flee...", Kilyna bit her lower lips, "However, I was the only one able to get away in the end", she gritted her teeth, "Those damn shadows… The 'Naphilims'… was it not the name you called them? Anyway, it was their fault… I wanted to fight them, but couldn't… you, however, seem to have some experience with them…", Kilyna lowered her head, "I think.. that we are pretty much on the same boat… and that means that you need me now more then I need you"

Helena turned around almost too quickly alarming Kilyna to stand and face her, "Again with that look, Paladin", Kilyna uttered with disgust, "What? Wanna fight me?"

"You talk too much, criminal pirate", said Helena, "If you plan to blackmail us then…", Helena noticed the smile of Kilyna, evil smile that reached from ear to ear, "Then you do?"

The door opened and Arjak and Ciara entered.

"You", Kilyna said to the huge man without pointing at him, "I bet you can't wait to be at home again, no?"

Helena hissed, "what are you trying to get?!"

"Calm down, sure I want something from you, but I'm willing to give something in return", said Kilyna, the smile turned to be friendlier.

"What do you want, criminal?", Helena asked.

Kilyna rubbed her chin, playing dumb as if considering the deal for the first time. After a short while she raised her hand in understanding, "I know!", she smirked, "How about you help me save my men and I'll give you one-time ride on my beautiful ship… of course you'll have to help me save my ship as well…"

Mysteria
02-06-2011, 11:07 PM
An Anne, Stormie, and Mysti triad

Tearing off a piece of her already torn dress, Ciara wrapped it around a piece of the broken wood creating a make shift torch to aid them in trying to get past the Naphilims. Falling in behind Arjak and Graek she followed the two as the group pushed through the sinister shadows. Reyes cries overhead alerted her to the presence of another, along with natures creatures who traveled with her. It didn't take long for the paladin and stranger to clash. Inching her way forward she stood slightly behind Arjak, her hand reaching out and touching his shoulder to let him know that she was and would remain close to him.

Arjak's hand subconsciously met Ciara's on his shoulder, his scarred hand enveloping hers, holding on to it like man would hold to a ship's mast in a storm. The darkness was flickering around them, encroaching upon them, only kept at bay by the flickering light of the torches and Graeak's orb of light. Arjak could hear their hushed whispers, words of fear and doubt trying to seed themselves in Arjak's mind. He blocked them out to the best of his abilities with some success. Without Ciara's touch filling him with brighter thoughts, he might have become surrender to the darkness.

3 days later
Ascara- Town of Xanas

Having reached Ascara, Arjak and Ciara were on constant alert. Ajraks keen senses coupled with Reyes constant eyes from the sky left Ciara feeling that they were being as cautious as they could along with providing eyes for the entire group while other things were being attended to back at the Inn. No longer was the threat only of the shadow people, but also there was Cronus to consider.

As the small group had traveled there had come to light bits and pieces of each ones own particular stories. Often times Ciara would look around the group, studying each in turn and couldn't help but smile when she would notice Wren and Raphael standing alone, talking in low voices. In many ways it reminded her of Arjak and herself.

She walked beside him, her torch held high as they scanned the nearby area of the Inn. Occasionally she would feel herself brush against him and for just a moment, she wished the current situation would be different. They spoke quietly between themselves as they walked along. At times her nearness to him almost made her uncomfortable although, she would never admit that to him. Few men had ever had that effect on her, but at certain moments, Arjak did.

Arjak had been noticeably on edge after going through the desert to get to Xanas. He had not slept well, his dreams being haunted by terrible nightmares. He looked a little worse for wear, his several-day old beard not helping him appear more at ease. In fact, that dark, coarse hair covering his cheeks and jaw accentuated his golden eyes just as much as the dark circles around them did. His dreams were haunted by his family being short one girl. Elayne, the youngest, missing. He dreamt of her losing all of her blood in to a massive basin while his kin and clansmen fought amongst themselves. The wolves of Norgard sang a song of sorrow, and each time, Arjak jolted awake upon seeing a red field with burning banners and a bloody sword through a crown.

Arjak knew these dreams, they were not the typical nightmare. Too many symbols. This was a Wolf Dream, a prophetic viewing powerful druids are said to have when their mind crosses over in to the ancient realm of the Old Gods. These dreams made Arjak tense and his mood sullen. More than once he wanted to punch Raphael in the face for being so protective over Wren or wring Helena's neck for casting him an odd glance. Then there was the issue with this new woman, another sea-faring brigand who carried herself with delusions of grandeur.

"Ciara..." Arjak said quietly, possibly even shyly, the torch light catching his eyes and making them shine ever so faintly, "I trust you more than any of the others, and I hope you trust me just as much." he cleared his throat, scratching at his stubbly beard,

"How far would you follow me... I mean, would you be by my side... through this journey of ours?" Finally, Arjak's beard proved of some use as it masked the flush of redness that flowed in to his cheeks. He felt like a boyish fool, but no woman had ever infuriated and enthralled him more than Ciara. She was the grandest of puzzles, and each time he thought he had figured some part of her out, she changed. It was like the most intricate dance he had ever experienced, and even though he was tired, he never wanted to stop dancing with her.

Ciara gazed upon Arjaks face, his golden eyes gleaming in the moonlight as he spoke. His words, however, had caught her off guard. Could it be that the Norgard harbored the very same strong feelings for her that she sensed she had for him? Despite his stubbornness, there was a quality about him that Ciara had found to be fascinating. Trust him? Did he not know, that she had come to trust him with her very life? Albeit true that she at times kept her distance from him, it had never been a matter of trust for the druidess. It was her own fears, her own hauntings that caused her to keep her distance.

Her olive eyes flickered as she took in each one of his words. "How far would you follow me... I mean, would you be by my side... through this journey of ours?"

Ciara searched his eyes for the one thing that she needed to see. As she stepped closer to him his expression changed and in that moment she found the answer that she was looking for. Turning fully towards him and taking his hands into her own she replied softly "However far I need too, Arjak of Al'andun, I will be by your side, no matter where the journey takes us, we will make it together."

Leaning up, her lips met his for only a brief moment for no matter how much she would have wanted that moment to linger, under the dark skies of Ascara was not the time or place when such present danger surrounded them now.

Still holding his hand she turned back towards the Inn. "Arjak, we should get back, for now. None of us should be gone for too long under these circumstances, and I'm afraid tempers there may flare. The paladin..." Ciara's voice trailed slightly "Well...you know how her temper can be and the others..I mean, how much do we really know any of them? I'd just feel better if we were back there."

Arjak let out a shallow breath of relief, mustering a smile as he held Ciara's hand in his. He kissed her knuckles, the way a gentleman would, and lead her by the hand towards the Inn. He knew she was right, but he needed to get some fresh air. Any more time with the more loose-tongues folk of the crowd and Arjak may have cut their tongues clean out. He lead Ciara by the hand, opening the door to the Inn, reluctantly letting her hand go as they both entered.

Wren's head jerked towards the door as she heard it creak open. "Arjak and Ciara are back!" she cried with false enthusiasm and a forced smile.

The girl rose to her feet and placed the cup of water she had been gripping with white knuckles on a nearby end table. Just seconds earlier, she had been simply staring off into space, gritting her teeth against the frustration that was mounting inside. Her patient, Alister, was more than resistant to her aide. And despite Wren's constant questions, his refusal to answer many of them left her puzzled over his ailment.

And although she appreciated and was flattered by Raphael trying to defend her, the girl feared that his fiercer approach might be setting Alister more and more against her. It was only when Mikhail drew his captain aside for subtle teasing that the pirate let Wren out of his shadow. Add all that to the worries of their mission and two missing pirate ships, it was needless to say that the healer was feeling very stressed out.

But Wren had begun to feel a bond of friendship with the powerful Arjak and the graceful Ciara, and their return was refreshing enough to snap her out of her agitated state. She quickly stood and moved to meet the two.

"Anything interesting out there?" she asked expectantly, then added with a twinge of frustration, "Nothing much has changed here." Arjak shook his head to Wren's inquiry, hooking his thumbs on his thick belt,

"Nothing more than the occasional beggar, and even they were rare. This doesn't smell right." Arjak muttered, wrinkling his nose. While some people might take such a saying as a figure of speech, Arjak meant it literally. All of Ascara smelled foul, but there was another layer of filth was laid on top of everything else ever since the Nephilim appeared. He was about to say more, hoping to press some of the tension out of the air with casual conversation, but the newcomer, the pirate woman Kilyna, had other plans.

"You," Arjak heard her yell out and he looked towards her, finding that she was looking right back at him, apparently directing her words at him as well, "I bet you can't wait to be at home again, no?" she shot a sly smile Arjak's way, and his temper flared once the brigand started laying out her terms. She was a sly one, but when people rely on the strength of their tongue for survival, the body withers away and can easily be crushed. Arjak was itching to show her that he was more than capable of beating her to death with her own arms.

"You expect us to trust you? Sending us in to a prison to fetch your comrades. Smells like a trap to me. Is the sultan paying you handsomely?" Arjak detached himself from the group he was with to slowly approach the pirate woman, towering over her and glaring down at her with his golden eyes.

"Endanger anyone here and I will show you what a Norgard druid can do when engulfed in a rage."

"Oh my," Wren squeaked, as her eyes followed Arjak's burly form stalking across the room. She edged closer to Ciara.

Noticing Wren's trepidation Ciara moved to her side, offering a smile. "Are you alright, Lady Avari?" Following Wren's gaze Ciara spoke to her quietly "Do not worry about Ajrak, He is on edge, like we all are but holding the powers that he does allows him to sense and feel things that we others do not." Wrens nervousness seemed to linger so Ciara quickly added "He'll not hurt anyone, or thing, not deserving of it. Speaking of powers though, how are you faring with Allister?"

And with a nod of her head towards Raphael "And what of the good Captain, it appears your concerns about him have subsided, or, am I wrong?" Shaking her head then as she looked towards Arjak continuing "Nervousness, can be a good thing, or bad, at times, don't you agree?"

"I suppose so," Wren replied slowly as she turned her bright green eyes from Arjak to meet Ciara's. The other woman's gaze was kind, and Wren managed a small smile. "I just wish I didn't feel nervous quite so often."

She shrugged as if to brush off her own comment. "Alister is improving," Wren continued. "But there is something deep inside he's keeping from me. I can only heal the physical pain. Any emotional hurt is up to him. But even healing the body is difficult when he keeps lashing out at me."

Wren bit her lower lip as she thought of her patient, but even through her worry, a smile began to curl at the corners of her mouth as she considered Ciara's second question. "Raphael, on the other hand, is just wonderful. I feel foolish to have been so concerned on his ship. But he's turned out to be very charming."

She giggled. "Aside from being a bit overprotective. I think you can relate to that though? Arjak always seems to be looking after you, even if there is no danger around."

Ciara listened to the healer intently as she studied her, shaking her head in agreement when Wren spoke of Alister. Even as Wren spoke, their physical appearance differed so much that it stood out to Ciara. Wren was so, pale, while Ciara was darked skinned. It made Ciara wonder just how different their lives truly had been. Wren, a healer and Ciara, the druidess. Ciara frowned to herself. Her powers were still not as strong as others she knew, and surely not near as strong as Arjaks. Ciara had concluded that it was because she had been moved from Norgard at such a young age to the simpler life in Chanclera. What would Norgard be like now, and even more importantly, what would life in Norgard be with Arjak if that was indeed the path that she was to travel?

Wrens words jolted her back to reality. "Raphael, on the other hand, is just wonderful. I feel foolish to have been so concerned on his ship. But he's turned out to be very charming. Aside from being a bit overprotective. I think you can relate to that though? Arjak always seems to be looking after you, even if there is no danger around."

Ciara chuckled slightly. It appeared to her that the healer and herself would come to understand each other more, in due time and that they had something in common. "Arjak, is protective by nature and even more so with me for some reason.'

Ciara's eyes moved back to Arjak who was engaged in conversation with Kilyna, then a slight frown appeared on her face. "If I may confide in you, Lady Avari?" Ciara searched for an indication from the other woman that it was okay to continue.

Wren nodded. "Of course," she said, her voice lowered.

Ciara lowered her voice as she took a few steps back, more than aware that Arjaks keen hearing might pick up even the slightest whisper from her lips "I worry, that back in Norgard, he may become different, and I am afraid that his protectiveness is because he still feels he owes me a debt for saving him from the shadows back in Ascara." Ciara bit her lip her eyes clouding over for a moment as all of her past, and that night in Ascara came back to her for a second "I do not want him to be protective of me.." Her voice trailed as she swallowed hard before continuing, "I do not want him to be protective of me, nor be with me because he feels he owes me. I would rather it be..." Ciara stopped then as the healers thoughts seemed to ring through her head almost, letting her know that she understood.

"Time will tell, as the saying goes," Wren said softly. She reached out to grasp Ciara's hand in her own, sqeezing it tightly in reassurance. "But I'm very sure your worries are for naught. Arjak is..."

She glanced back at the Norgard man and couldn't help but smile. "Well, Arjak is honest, and he has no qualms about speaking his mind. I'm certain that his words and actions are true. His nature around you goes beyond a simple debt, even I can see that."

Wren gave Ciara's hand another squeeze before releasing it. "If I may add just one more thing?" she asked. "You don't need to call me 'Lady Avari'. I've never been one for titles, and I think we've been through enough together to use our first names, don't you?"

Slightly lowering her head respectfully Ciara spoke "Yes we've all been through some tough times recently and some of us have bonded more so than others. And of course, your words are wise Wren. Time always tells."

Arjaks voice rang out loud causing Ciara to turn her glance again his way but still speaking "As for Arjak, he is a good man, a strong willed man. His heart beats so loudly when he is near me that it speaks to me. Our natures are different in many ways yet there is something.."

Again she heard Arjak from across the room. Ciara looked back at Wren, her demeanor quickly changing "His temper however, is another issue." Giving the healers hands a quick squeeze even as the slight displeasure at Ajrak loosing his temper yet once again flashed in her eyes Ciara said "We will talk again, soon, and thank you Wren...for everything. It is not easy being away from home as I am sure is true for all of us and it is nice to have someone other than Arjak to speak with but if you would excuse me now..." Ciara never finished as the sounds of voices in the room continued to escalate.

Moving gracefully through the room and coming to stop at a position behind Arjak she placed her hand on the huge tricep of Arjaks right arm, her fingers in a light feathery touch as she spoke "Ease your storm. Arjak, my senses are at ill ease, I would feel better if we could continue scouting now."

At the brush of Ciaras hand Arjak turned those feral eyes towards her, clasping her hand in his yet saying nothing while walking out of the Inn. Even as he threw a glaring glance over his shoulder at the pirate woman, Ciara could feel the tenseness leaving him as his hand warmed her own.

Repent!
02-10-2011, 08:19 PM
(Completed with the help of anne and septimus's profile.)

Wren's green eyes followed Ciara to Arjak's side, then trailed both druids as they exited the inn once again. The girl shook her head; never one for confrontations herself, the tension and disunity was terrible on her nerves. So Wren made her way to the safest place she knew: Raphael's side.

She offered a small smile to the man as she approached, but spoke in a lowered voice. "Another pirate?" Wren asked. "Arjak certainly doesn't seem to trust her. What do you make of her?"

Raphael smiled back and took in Wren's words and sighed as he eyed Kilyna, speaking to match Wren's tone. "So far, the driud is right in his distaste. We have no reason to trust her. Pirates usually never trust each other for the sole fact that we all want to be on the top of the heap, and will do what we must to stay there."

Just mentioning the events in pirate politics casued him to slip a little bit into his persona while commandeering The Strahl. Though one look at Wren caused him to come back to reality as he continued,

"However, she hasn't given us a reason not to trust her words...that and hepling her rescue her crew would lead to free reign of the seas again...truly a puzzling predicament indeed." Raphael chuckled a little. "If the decision were up to me, I say we roll the dice and see where it takes us. Unfortunately, it's not. It is a choice that needs to be made by all of us. Meaning Zelvad will need to soon return before the Norgard, or Lady Helena for that matter, loses their patience."

"I just hope Zelvad's alright," Wren replied, drawing her lower lip between her teeth in thought. "He's been gone a while, and I know Helena is wondering about him.

"I'm inclined to agree with you. Having a ship and crew on our side would be helpful. We can't stay in Ascara with those shadow creatures." She shivered, recalling Kilyna's describtion of the Naphilims' attack, and the feeling that had come over her just when they were around.

"I just can't help but feel that we should be going after the Strahl instead of her ship," Wren said softly.

Raphael sighed while scratching the back of his head. "Knowing our luck so far, we won't be seeing my ship until we come across that bastard Cronus again. Though if any harm comes to my ship I will take it out of his worthless hide. Anyone with an attitude as crass as his is bound to be nobility, and nobility tend to have more than enough funds to pay for damages, given freely or no." He looked back to Wren and smiled slightly.

"All in all, a little more than I bargained for when I agreed to give and your friends a ship to Ascara, but in the end it has all been worth it."

Wren's cheeks flushed. "That's quite a compliment," she replied with a smile before turning her eyes back to Kilyna. "Well, I trust your judgement on the newcomer. Even if she turns out to be treacherous, I'm sure she's no match for the dreaded Captain Sinclair."

Raphael just smiled.

Kris
02-13-2011, 12:29 AM
The time went on and the Assassin, Zelvad, had yet to return. The air was already too tense to begin with. Arjak was still outside with Ciara and Helena decided she needed to cool off as well. It's been a long time she had any privacy and she decided a fresh air could keep away the worries. She had inner battle on the issue of going outside armed or not, but decided that weapons and armor will draw unnecessary attention. So she stepped outside wearing a long sleeved yellow dress, which was her only clothing that hasn't contained metal or iron on it. Everyone were busy so she decided to make the trip outside quick and return before anyone could notice.

Outside the sun was no longer visible, but it was still day time. Pink clouds slowly gathered as she made her way for the city searching for the nearest bar. Ivalor had a strict rules about drinking, but she figured it was all right if she would just sit there. After all it was pretty cold outside.

A waiter came to her and offered a drink. Rejecting him would bring questions as to why she is here to begin with, so she ordered something and thanked him kindly when he brought the drink to her. She only stared at the glass, however. The waiter rubbed the back of his head and decided to leave her alone. Once he was gone Helena sighed. Maybe coming here wasn't the brightest idea. She put some coins on the table and was about to leave when two men entered. They were followed by the royal guards and Helena remained in her place, fearing that Cronus might be nearby. She tried to get as close as she could to the stone wall behind her, fearing to be noticed by anyone. Luckily the lamp that hang above her was not lit and she enjoyed the doubt of not being seen in the dim light surrounding her.

The two man made their way for a table in the center of the room, but somewhat far from her. One of them ordered the guards to wait outside. The guards walked away from them, but stood by the entrance.

The man who ordered them to leave sighed, “Well, that's the best I can get of privacy out of them I guess”.

“Hasan, my lord, is it wise for you to be here?”, asked the other one.

The man called Hasan nodded.

Helena could tell at first glance that Hasan was a mix blood. He wasn't dark skinned as the rest of the Ascarian. He had lighter tanned color and his eyes were bright blue. Helena heard rumors about political marriages that had been going on between the six eastern kingdom. Hasan's mother could be Norgardian by origins.

"But-!”

"Caleb, I choose you for the mission because you are one of the best Mercenary around. If I worried too much of the consequences I wouldn't contact you”, Hasan said to the man and looked at him with rage in his eyes, “I trust you the most, but if you think of rejecting me-”

"I don't wish to involve myself with anything that would harm you, your highness, Sarah wouldn't have want this as well”, said the man called Caleb.

"Only because She was my mother? Ha! Think nothing of this. However if you can't work with me like this, say it now! deny me and I'll let you be!”

"Can't do that it either”, Caleb smirked, “I can't trust another person when dealing with you...”

Hasan smiled. It was a beautiful and youthful smile that could melt any young woman's heart. Helena thought Hasan might have been popular with the ladies. She also realized that Hasan was royalty too. That would explains the Royal Guards at the door.

Helena wasn't the type to eavesdrop, but something about this talk seemed to be of interest to her. She leaned closer, still trying to stay in the dark. She could see Caleb's face now... and blushed the moment she did. By all means Caleb was her type. He was tanned skin with kind small eyes and serious expression. He was rather old of age but the little wrinkles he had did not damage his handsome appearance. His built body that was obvious under his clothing was also something to be desired. The scars on his arms and face told of him being a warrior.

"Caleb, before we go on, I have news to tell you... The body of Ariel... It's gone...”, Hasan straight his eyes and allowed Caleb the time to digest the information.

"Are you sure...?”, Caleb seemed rather uneasy. He bit his lips and looked away. His hands shivered and if someone looked at him he could tell that the man before him was trying his best to stop himself from going crazy, “Could it be that I didn't kill him that night?”

"I'm pretty sure he was dead. We also hanged him that night”, Hasan said.

Caleb nodded. That would mean that even if he didn't finish him off, he should still be dead either way. Someone must have took away the body, that's the reasonable answer he could have think of.

“However”, Hasan continued, still studying his comrade, considering his next words carefully, “all evidences show that he didn't get any help escaping....”

"WHAT?! Are you suggesting a body just walked by itself?”, Caleb barked and lowered his head when he realized it. He didn't want to drew any attention to him.

"Can you suggesting something else?”, Hasan took a deep breath, “Because, to be honest, I can't think of any other reason, unless some mage was able to sneak into Ascara despite the rules. May god help us! If it is the work of a necromancer or someone of the likes. He or she can use a person, even if he is dead, to do awful things.... Those rotten good-for nothing mages... Now that the body is gone, my poor half sister soul's shall never find rest..”

"Rest assure prince, Ariel is dead. If he is a walking puppet then we need to feel sorry for his soul, not hers”, Caleb closed his eyes, “I don't think anyone can use a dead body as you fear... but I'm still not at ease...”, Caleb looked away, “Well... there is a reason we both are here. You said something about a man who now operates the Royal guards, Cronus, I believe you said his name was... I think I saw him attacking some people at the harbor..”. Caleb knew, of course, who Cronus was, after all, he sort of helped him get into the castle too. Hasan, however, didn't need to know that.

The moment Helena heard the name of Cronus her eyes widen up. She payed more attention now. Caleb noticed her for the first time too, sitting from across their table. He was sure she was too far to hear anything and must have just gazed at them because they looked strange, but just in case he turned to whisper, “Now, prince..”, he said, looking around him, making sure no one heard that he called Hasan by his title. When he realized everyone were pretty much drunk or busy with talking to one another he continued, “About that trader you mentioned... Dravon?”

"Well, father didn't want to say anything at first... But he told me an assassin came at night and was responsible for killing Jasmine, and that his lord trader master shall come and meet him... He told my father that he could send assassins to kill him and royal family anytime, just like he did to Jasmine. My father fear him because he was able to get so close to the most secured man in this country. Cronus plans to get control for his lord trader in this kingdom... and I won't tolerance this”

Caleb knew that the same assassin that broke into the king's room cannot be the same one that killed the princess. After all... he supposedly killed Ariel right after the deed, so there was no way that Cronus could come into this room too. However if he will admit it, he'll have to tell Sultan of the events that night. That would make Hasan to never trust him again too, "Tsk, I can't believe what a fool I was...”, Caleb considered his words.

"What?!”, asked the prince.

It all linked together now. That same night he found both Ariel and Cronus fighting, Ariel was hired to kill the princess... but so DID Cronus... as a mean to get Dravon's name to be feared that is. The princess was nothing but a tool in his game. Caleb only got rid of the less troublesome assassin and by so he helped Cronus to get to the king. Ariel was framed, but more because Cronus couldn't have been... and at the end, Cronus got what he came to get.

"Forget it for now, your highness”, Caleb answered.

Hasan noded, “Yes... after all, I brought you here for something else, didn't I? And you have yet to hear me...”

"I believe I know what it is about. I watched you grow from afar all along and you've turned to be a man. A good man who watches the suffering of his people, and cannot stand when someone takes over Royals from behind the scenes”.

Hasan nodded.

"I'm an old war dog, I'm not sure I can help much. But for my sins, I own you at least that. Before we start, however, you must leave for Safety”.

Hasan gave a bitter smile, “You think of me as fine man, but I'm a disgrace. Seeing myself as chosen and favoring myself over the other princes”, He looked straight at Caleb, “I'm suggesting uprising against my own father... I know it might be the only way to get the kingdom outside of the claws of Dravon, but at what price?... I might have considered doing it quietly if I knew my father was supporting me, but he's afraid... Mother used to tell me how wonderful of a man he was. Supporting his kingdom and never allowing corruption. Mother is dead... and the kingdom fallen with her”, Hasan set back at his chair, “I'm a spoiled brat, Caleb. I love my father. I might have forgiven him for everything he did and everything that happened during the time he become too old to rule with might, however, I cannot forgive him for allowing my sister's death to go unpunished... I'm sure if he were in my place he would have considered the same actions I did...”

Caleb looked away, “I heard Emperor Morgan wanted to married Jasime, is it true”.

Hasan spitted, “Yes”

"It could have been a beneficial to the Sultan... Those political marriage might have hold a safe card to him. He knew that the world war was close to burst out again. Stronger then ever... Your father refused....”, Caleb smirked, “Your father is old, but he is not a fool. He wouldn't have let that opportunity pass him like that... Unless he was too confident... or...”, Caleb's smirk faded and he turned to look at Hasan, “Unless he knew his favorite wife's son was in love with Jasmine”.

Hasan's eyes widen, “So you knew...”

"and I'm guessing the king knew too...”

"Didn't matter, for the law we were still siblings”

"But not of the same mother... That balance it some”.

"Maybe... I'm not sure”

"The king loved you so much that he decided not to hurt your feelings...”

"But not enough to go out against a sole assassin and a trader”

Caleb sighed.

"Caleb... What would you think my mother thought of me?”

Caleb smiled, “She'd be proud of you”.

Hasan smiled again, “Thank you my friend... However, I hate the idea of starting a rebellion without being there to help. I'm sure many will die for my name and I won't be able to take responsibility for this”.

Caleb smirked, “Your path will be full of blood, your highness. It is something you should have known from birth. You might have spent your whole life repenting, but your conscience will not be spotless”

"I know...”

"And your peace of mind is worthless to us. We can't afford to lose you on the start. What the point will be? We need someone on the throne. We don't rebel for chaos but for a better world”

Hasan nodded.

"Good. You shall be trained and when you are ready we will returne for you, in order to finish what we started. I hope we shall have both Cronus' and Dravon's heads by then...”

"I hope you will be still alive by then”

Caleb laughed, “I welcome a path where I can die for honor and for good battle. If I'll be there in the sky and you below on the throne I'd be the happiest soul above”

Hasan smiled and blushed.

**

Once the Hasan, Caleb and the guards left, Helena waited a little while and then stepped outside of the bar. Something about the man, Caleb, inspired her. She realized how close the world was about to step for changes. She could see herself battling the army of evil and corruption by the side of a man such as he. Maybe if they could meet someday in the future...

"Enjoying your walk?”

Kilyna was standing before her. How did she find her?

"Stalking me, are you?”, Helena said rudely and turned to leave.

"Listen”, she grabbed Helena's arm, “Listen...”, she waited for Helena to stop and look at her, “I... I'm sorry...”, Kilyna said and lowered her head.

Arjak's words might have sunk in. It's hard to be told you're weakling. Kilyna wanted to show she could handle all hardship and burdens and that she can be a trusted person that respect her deals and who's offers are fair.

Helena waited for Kilyna to look up at her again. She studied the woman's expression, trying to find any hint of a jesting. When she didn't, Helena soften. The mother instinct kicked in again, “Let us return... Kilyna...”

Kilyna's eyes widen as she heard the Paladin calling her by her name.

"You must be really worried about your men and ship... I feel the same in some way... Fate carried me away from the person most important to me and from my squad, but also allowed me to join with the fates of brave and reliable men. I shall bring the matter before them again. If they won't help you, I will. However, I will require you to wait for the young assassin to return. I have something I wish to share with you all”

Kilyna nodded, “Fair enough to me”

"Good... let us return then. If you noticed my absent the others sure did as well and I wouldn't want to worry anyone”, Helena thought of Wren when she said it.

As they walked Kilyna noticed a woman in the distance. She was sure it was Laya.

Repent!
02-22-2011, 05:55 PM
After a days worth of stop and go running around morning patrols, Zelvad had finally made it back to his safe house. As he reached for the door handle though, he paused after noticing that his door was already ajar. The assassin quickly but silently backed off and made his way to the trap door he created in the ceiling. Crouched and next to the hatch, he pulled Widow's Fang from its sheath and slowly eased the trap door open. Zelvad noticed a figure casually staring out of the bed side window near his sword and assassin garb.

Without hesitation, Zelvad dropped in and reached for the man's hair in an attempt to place the knife in a position to slice open the jugular, but made no action to do so. "Describe why you're here and I may not end you here and now." The poor amount of light still obscured the stranger's face, so Zelvad only knew an intruder was in his home and some damn good answers were needed as to why.

"I promise you I come in peace”, Liorian said, holding up his hand where the fingers which could have been used to make the V- Peace mark were cut off, “Well... In pieces... now... Care to give me some slack?... after all, I don't want to point any blaming FINGER at you, for causing me any more damage...”

The stubs where fingers should have been immeadiately caused Zelvad to back off rather quickly, tossing his knife to the side. "Master Lierioan! What...how..." Zelvad fumbled over his own tounge trying to put together the right question in his mind.

Lierioan kept smiling even when Zelvad withdrew from him with a look that clearly showed that he was not amused with the elder's “fingers” jokes. Oddly enough, Lierioan was in good mood. He slowly moved around across the room as if he only just entered now, “Nice place you have here... Never thought any assassin will actually live in style”

"Yeah, well...I only needed the basics, though uh...."

Zelvad now knew who was standing before him, but still didn't relax. He kept scanning the elder, each time finding new wound upon his body. They were not as serious as the right hand with the missing two fingers, but it did seem horrible still.

"But I guess you're more interested at what I'm doing here, at your house...Well to be honest, I hoped you would come back... I must have some words with you...”, said Lierioan, the smile disappearing completely from his face.

Zelvad quickly fell to his hands and knees, his eyes facing the ground and expecting the worst. "Master, forgive this spider. We tried to save Roseabelle, we really did, but she had already seen The Web...already accepted by The Widow."

"So... she really did die...", Lierioan smile never fade, but Zelvad could tell that there was something bitter in it, "Alas, I hold nothing against you. I tried my best to get Cronus out of the way, while I should have fought alongside them all. If anyone to be blame for it, that should be me".

Lierioan turned to Zelvad, his expression now serious, the smile no longer at his face, "She awaken you, I see". He considered his words for a moment and then added, "Then I guess you already accepted the burden. To be honest it was not the fate I wanted you to have... But there is no holding back now, so I get straight to the point", he gazed into Zelvad's eyes, "Zelvad, what do you know about the myth of 'Pandora and the box'?"

The young Chanclerans eyes were wide as his head jerked up to look upon Lierioan's face. "I have, through most of my mail by my father, he saiys the box holds endless amounts of chaotic power and and that Pandora herself is the keeper of said box." He adjusted himself to a standing position as he moved toward his sword and assassin garb. He grabbed his sword and placed it to the side as he removed his tunic. Unbeknownst to Zelvad however, there was now an image (http://i20.photobucket.com/albums/b216/hero2/RP/Tribal-Spider-Tattoo-1f.jpg) covering his right shoulder blade. His pants were to stay on, since Zelvad's assassin clothes were made to fit around them.

Noticing a nearby apple from the last bit of mail sent by his parents, he shrugged his shoulders and grabbed it. He then pulled the small knife in the spider pendant and sliced off a portion to put in his mouth. The dried blood on the pendant then was quickly absorbed into the pendant....also not to Zelvad's knowledge. He was more paying attention to Lieroian as he did these things.

"Zelvad... I'm about to tell you something, but I wish you keep an open mind for it, okay?.. Listen, can you find within yourself to believe that the myth... Is not just a myth... but a story from old time?"

Zelvad stopped mid-chew through the second slice of apple he sliced and turned to face Lieroian, a look of subtle shock on his face. "Pandora's box....is real? How did it come to be? When? Do you know where it is now?"

"In order to answer the location, I must explain that the box was never an item to begin with", Lieroian sighed, "You need to understand that Pandora was in truth a real person, in fact she was the one to start the line of the Ancients, in other words, she brought magic into this world. Her offspring mixed with the humans as the world formed to be what it is today. Pandora, apparently… was the Guardian of another world, a dimension if you will. I guess the old ones used the name "box" to describe this world because it was a closed world.

To be honest, the reason I kept myself away from the clan was because I feared the old tale might have something with the fearsome Naphilim. I traveled far and wide and gain the trust of a great priest known as High priest, Tik-Va. I was able to learn that he witnesses some kind of an event on the grounds of Esgares. I was said to meet with him but both he and the ruler of Ivalor, priestess Noa, went missing. I sent Cronus to Ivalor the moment I learned that their absent was too strange. Little did I know that Cronus had plans of his own…", Lieroian took a deep breath, "Zelvad… I would have kept silence about all of this and take what I know with me to the grave, but I'm afraid you are already too deep in this. That is why I won't hide from you a thing.

I'm sure Rosabelle told you the little she knew about this man called Emonalach, but allow me to share with you the bits of information that are known to me alone. Emonalach is not human and he seems to have connection to that 'box'. He is trying to find a way to get control over it… or maybe something else from it… I don't know clearly.

But… The box is full of holes you see. There are paths around the world that enable you to have glimpse into that other world. The elders called them the "Pillars of light".

High priest Tik-Va, saw one of them in Esgares, but I know another such portal exist in Norgard as well. Emonalach was searching for something in Ivalor. I fear he might have got he needed. I have no idea what he plans, but we shouldn't neglect Norgard…", Lieroian smiled, "This is the first missing I'm giving you, I want you to head there. I'm sure Emonalach won't deal with Norgard directly, so don't worry too much about it. I'm heading back to Chanclera. I'm sure Cronus will seize the opportunity to take over the clan while all the elders are dead. I can't go against him directly sadly, because I'm still shunned by them. If I step up to him they won't believe me and be easier to be convinced by him. However I'll study more and find the locations of the rest of these pillars. I fear for the high priest life, but there is nothing I can do for him. Ivalor is closed by a powerful magic, no one can enter or leave. I fear no living being is there to be found now…

Also, keep in mind that Cronus is working for a man called Dravon, a troublesome trader. I wouldn't have given it too much thought, but seeing all these odd coincidence I'm starting to guess that Dravon has signed some kind of a deal with Emonalach. That is why I need you to be extra caution when dealing with those too. I have said what I came to say, is there more you need to ask me?"

Zelvad slowly shook his head. "I have my mission. My group will most likely greatly aid in its completion." Zelvad was now in full assassin dress. Solid black covered his whole body save for his face. Widow's Fang now strapped around his left arm, his sword strapped across his back. "May the Widow bring you safely to Chanclera." Zelvad turned to put the tiny knife from the pendant he was still holding into his pendant, when he discovered the spider pendant itself had gone missing. A look of puzzlement covered his face as he looked around, when the left something scraping at his head. He went to grab for it and was shocked to find it was the very pendant he was looking for that now lie inside his palm and was as alive as alive can be. "What in the nine hells?"

"Well that's a nice little trick. How'd you do that?"

"I'm...not exactly sure."

"Well, there was some blood on it earlier...would that have anything to do with it?"

Then it crossed Zelvad's mind. "oh...that's how.."

"Oh?"

"We crossed paths with the nephilim earlier, it ended up with me getting a nosebleed and it must have dripped onto the necklace."

"Freshly awakened blood can do that."

Zelvad sighed and closed his eyes. Though as they were closed, he noticed that he could still see.he opened his eyes and looked towards the living spider. "Hmm..." Zelvad closed his eeys again and willed the spider to move.The spider did so and moved to the back of zelvad's neck and wrapped its legs around Zelvads hair, pulling it back into a perfect ponytail. Zelvad then put the small blade back inside, and the spider stop moving and then everything went black, causing Zelvad's eyes to shoot open.

"Be wise when you use that. it could save your lives, Zelvad."

The young Chancleran simply nodded and headed for the door, grabbing his mask as he did so. He placed the mask on his face and nodded in agreement and left his house.

He arrived back at the inn they found new refuge in and rapped slowly at the door, by now everyone should have just been waiting on him to return. Since they probably wanted his input on the pirate that aided in their escape.

Mr.Cynic
03-05-2011, 02:20 AM
[CO-OP Anne + Clyde]

They were the same lucid liquid dreams. Of shadows and demons and her angelic face appearing from the shadows her light the only thing keeping him going. The only thing keeping him grounded to reality. The gods smiled and smited with images of her torture and her pain. And every time, these lucid liquid dreams allowed him to drown in a kind of despair that couldn't be healed no longer.

As he awoke from the dream, the same dreams. The same burning fantasy within his mind, he found himself staring at the room he had been staying. He sighed. He was here for to long he felt. Feeling around with his thin hands he grabbed his jacket and put it on rather sloppily. Allowing his clothes to hang loose and messy he got up from where he had binded himself.

There was a time and a place. And he couldn't be bound by his dreams any longer. He needed to move. He knew he shouldn't have joined these people. He knew it and yet ignored it, but his dreams told him differently.

Sitting not far away, Wren had been continuing her silent vidgil over her patient. She had been distracted by the othes in the room, but Alister's sudden movements caught her attention. While it was nice to see him with strength to stand, the fact that he put on his jacket as if to leave was alarming.

Wren quickly stood and moved to stand in front of the man. "Where are you going?" she asked quietly, doing her best not to alert the others.

As Alister turned his gaze towards the woman, his stare appeared cold and unnerving.

"I need to go," he said, "To complete what I must. I can no longer stay."

Wren's expression hardened. "Not until I'm satisfied that you're well. What is it that you must complete?"

Taking the hair out of his eyes, he stared at the woman for a moment. He began to take some strides towards the door.

"It doesn't concern others," he said, "Only concerns me."

Wren bristled. How was that for gratitude? She quickly stepped after him and reached for his arm in an attempt to hold him back. "Wait!" she said, perhaps a little too desperately. "I can tell that your ailments are more than physical, but you're wounded none the less. Why won't you let us help you?"

Alister gave her another look, it looked cold and distance. And there was something in that looked lost and not sure. But there was the ironic twinkle of confidence as well.

"Because I have been doing it without others for a while," Alister said.

Within his waking moments were daydreams, daydreams that emerged themselves here and there. In his mind he could see the paladins burning, their armor melting into pieces and the text of their faith melting and burning back into its simple state. Ink, just ink.

"People go off of blind faith," Alister said, "I have my reason. My road. My path. No one else has the same path."

"You've been doing it alone for a while," Wren countered, her green eyes not waivering from his. "And look where it's gotten you."

She motioned to the others in the group. "We were all on seperate paths, with our own goals and desires. But fate lead us together, on a single quest. And it let you to us as well."

Alister stared at her. He rarely got frustrated, but this was the first in a long time where he felt frustration boil inside of him.

"I do not have the time help every one in this group find their path," Alister said, "I can't....can't leave her again. Your group isn't as important as a promise I made and broke. I am a guilty man who must wash away his sentence. A criminal must pay his criminal dues."

There was a sense of anger in his eyes. Something boiling inside of him.

"I can't....can no longer wait," Alister said.

"Can't leave her again," Wren repeated, finally feeling some understanding. "If it's a matter of the heart, I suppose I can understand your determination. Where is it that you must go?"

"To kill a demon who has bound and plagued her soul," Alister replied, "Its none of your concern."

Alister pushed Wren's hand off of his arm and went to continue his way out.

Alister

I have her...come get her if you like....she she never will love you...again

There they were again dreams within in reality. He couldn't listen to demon talk any longer. He needed to free her. Placing his hand around his pockets he gave a bit of a quick look at Wren.

"Where is my cross?" he asked noting that it wasn't with him and he never leaves it.

It had been in his pocket before. Now it was nowhere.

She stared back at him with wide eyes. "I- I don't know," Wren stammered. "You fell unconcious and we helped you. I healed you, and we brought you here to the inn. I haven't seen a cross."

Alister quickly moved from Wren to the place of where his jacket was, looking on the floor. There was a kind of desperation that appeared on his hardened exterior. He couldn't loose it. This was a life line.

"Who do you know that may have seen it?" his voice cracking and loosing its usual composure.

Wren shook her head, her mind and heart racing. "It's just been us since the Nephilim. Here, let me help."

She lifted the blankets where Alister had been sleeping, shaking them gently and feeling the folds for the missing cross. "When did you last see it?"

Alister stared at her.

"I have it in my pocket at all times," he paused, "But the last last time I had seen in my actual posession was when I had used it during the attack on your hideout."

Alister scowled.

"It couldn't be there," he said, "I keep it on me at all times. I wouldn't loose something so important."

If he did he'd never forgive himself. He'd never be able to live.

"I...need it," he said.

His hands fumbled around through the blankets and combed the floors. He could feel himself losing it. Losing his temper. Losing his mind. How could he be so foolish?

"See...see the gods smite me by taking thee's soul from me," he paused, "They don't want me to succeed nor do they want me to ask a band of people for their help. Or they wouldn't have taken the cross."

Alister placed his hands through his hair and seized a fist full of it. Red strands bleeding through the cracks of his fist.

"I can't..."

To most this would seem a simple overreaction, but to him it was the criminal who lost the money for his bail.

Wren was overwhelmed by compassion for the broken man in front of her. Without thinking or even understanding his desperation, she dropped the blankets, knelt on the floor next to Alister and wrapped her arms around him. "Alister," she cooed, unsure of what to say or do, but wanting so badly to comfort him, "Alister, it must be here then. But if not, we'll figure something out. It will be alright."

Alister hadn't felt another's touch in so long. Only the cursed cold hands of his beloved from the grave and only the hands of the demons who violated his dreams and tried to kill before he could reach his destiny. The warmth was different this feeling was different. Different from any other feeling.

In the silence, lonely cold tears on an emotionless face streamed from his eyes.

"It won't..." he said, "I loose that. I loose her soul forever. She'll never, never be able to come back and move on. She'll become the demons queen instead and bore him an army."

Wren sat back on her heels so she could get a good look at Alister. The things he talked about were... Well, she would have said impossible a few weeks ago. But then again, she would have thought Nephilim and Paladins trying to slay each other would have been just as ridiculous.

But how could it be? She had felt something tearing Alister up from the inside when she had tried to heal him, and such heartbrake and despair would certainly explain that. But a demon army? They couldn't allow that into the world. She would have to tell the others. Among everything else they were dealing with, whatever Alister was speaking of couldn't come to pass.

"Don't lose hope," she said firmly. "We won't allow that to happen. I don't know how, but we just can't."

If the cross was the key, they had to find it. Wren moved away from Alister without another word and went to search the blankets over again

"A long time ago...." he paused, "I was a paladin. I promised the woman I'd love that I'd come for her...she made a deal with a demon and swore I'd return to her before the night of November....I hadn't returned. Her soul cursed within the cross...and I swore before the night of November to the demond I'd kill it and save her, so her soul could move on...."

Alister paused and stared at the blankets for a second.

"If I don't save her a second time, I was not worth her love," Alister said.

There was a sudden ding on the floor was Wren wrestled with the blankets. There the cross lay on the ground. Alister stared at it for a moment. The demons were toying and playing games with him. Cursed object with cursed dreams.

The girl just stared at the cross on the floor for several seconds, hardly believing her eyes. But there it sat, glinting in the light, waiting to be returned to it's owner, who looked just as disbelieving as she did.

Finally, unable to contain herself any longer, Wren scooped up the cross. "Alister!" she cried. "Here it is!"

In two quick steps she was in front of him again, and pressed the cross into his hand. "I told you," Wren whispered. "Let us help."

Alister stared at Wren and he look off into the corner of the room, avoiding Wren's gaze for a moment before returning.

"Thank...thnak you," he said calmly, "I suppose I can cross with your group."

Alister slightly stroked the cross with relief. And he sighed.

StormWolf
03-05-2011, 03:26 AM
The murmuring voices within the safe house slowly faded away in to the night as Arjak and Ciara walked further and further in to the town. When the night finally became silent once more, Arjak let out a sigh of relief, his hand finding Ciara's and gently taking hold.

The air was dry and warm even at night and the feeling that someone was watching did not help Arjak be at ease. He wanted nothing more than to get out of this cursed land and return to the welcoming mountains of Norgard, but being brash has gotten Arjak in to trouble before, and he wouldn't want to endanger the others.

"Ciara, thank you for dragging me out of there when you did. I was itching to start a brawl." he lead the two of them down the cobblestone street, the sparsely placed torches and lamps giving off a weak, flickering light.

Ciara did not speak as they walked hand in hand at a slow steady pace for a while. Ciara was giving the hot headed Norgard time to cool off. Finally the silence was broken by Arjak’s words. Ciara smiled softly as she squeezed his hand lightly saying “Of course Arjak. I could sense your..frustration.” Her voice had trailed at the word frustration slightly, she wanted to be certain to word it in a way that would not appear offensive to him although frustration may not have been the word she would have wanted to use, but, she used it anyhow.

“You are welcome.” Ciara continued, thinking carefully and choosing her words cautiously as she broached the next subject. “Sometimes though, I am concerned Arjak.” Ciara’s olive orbs sought out his in the torchlight shadows that danced around them. “You are so powerful, not just physically but your other powers far exceed my own. “ Ciara lowered her head then as she continued “I don’t know if it is because I was taken from Norgard so long ago that my own powers pale in comparison to yours but it worries me to some small degree…” Ciara took a long drawn out breath. Small degree was putting it mildly. Looking back up into those lupine eyes Ciara finished. “It worries me that I won’t be of use to you and the others in Norgard if we need to battle the dark forces there, and that I won’t… belong in Norgard, by your side.”

Arjak tenderly placed his hand on Ciara's cheek, patches of numbness interrupting the soft sensation of her skin on his hands, the scars suffered from brawls and his time in the wild. Meeting eyes with Ciara, Arjak's face was devoid of jest, hard and pale like it was carved from the very rocks of Norgard's bosom. Those eyes of gold like twin harvest moons in the night sky.

"Ciara, expel such concerns from your thoughts. I would feel the same about you if you were powerless and a cripple. You belong by my side, that is a fact that remains clearer to me than any other truth in this world." Arjak touched his brow to Ciara's, breathing in the freshness of her scent, much preferring it over the stench of the downtrodden slums of the desert cesspool in which they currently resided.

Ciara stood perfectly still, both reveling in and fearing the closeness to Arjak that she felt at that very moment. The most that she managed was a soft "Thank you" that was almost whispered under her breath. She trusted Arjak, with her very life but she still harbored concerns that she'd never be able to trust someone with her heart again. Luckily for her Arjak didn't dwell for long on the sentiment.

"If you wish to know such strength, I will educate you, should you permit me." the Norgard spoke softly as if prying eaers threatened to turn the words against him. On the edge of his senses, Arjak could hear feet shifting through sand and grind atop cobblestone. Multiple people, in fact, and as they drew closer Arjak's wolfen earn picked up the metallic scrape and shuffle of men in armor.

Ciara wanted to explore her powers and Ajraks willingness to teach her pleased her very much. "Oh yes, I would love to learn more of the old ways, the ways that my parents left behind in Norgard." Even through her own excitement Ciara sensed something wasn't right and Arjaks head tilted as though to listen, his sudden uneasiness set her on edge.

"Now is not the time, however. Armored men are afoot and they are headed this way." Arjak stepped out in to the street, seeing a young man in fine cloth with fine embroidery, a man of high station indeed to wear such threads and be surrounded by so many guards at this time of night.

Ciara didn't linger for one moment to fall in behind Arjak but instead walked out into the street with him. A young man with the brightest blue eyes she'd ever seen was staring at her, speaking to her in a way that indicated that he had confused her with someone else.

"You... It can't be... you're dead", said the young man, his blue eyes wide open and staring.

Ciara nodded politely to the young man, speaking calmly and quietly "I'm sorry sir, but surely you must have me confused with someone else? I'm rather certain that we've never met before."

Most of his features were covered by robes, simple ones that poorly hid the rich garment he wore beneath but it was easy to see them when you compared his clothing to the rest worn by the filth and scum sitting around them. Those said beggars quickly roused from their places the moment the guards were close. They knew of the law and didn't wish to be kicked or attacked.

The guards however didn't bother with them. They just halted beside the frozen image of the youth. His blue eyes watching the beautiful tanned maiden before him. She was, to him, both vision of celestial emissary and yet nightmarish image. This woman should be dead.

Yet... here she was, blooming and beautiful.

Hasan, however was not a fool. It took him a bit more time to notice, but he could tell that the woman before him was not princess Jasmine. But to the poor heart that suffered the lose of a true love it mattered little. He wanted her. Badly.

"Bring her to me”, he ordered with low unchanged voice driven by filthy and unhealthy passion. It could have been an odd where it any other kingdom. But it was Ascara. Women had little right if at all, and of course, what would protect a woman against the will of a prince?

The guards moved slowly not even considering Arjak as they turned to encircle the two.

"Bring her to me" It took Ciara a split second to realize what the man had said to the guards. Ciara took a step backwards giving herself the pause she needed to process things and arm herself with one of the readily available daggers that were always hidden on her person . This man intended on taking her....and it would surely be over her dead body before she would allow that to happen. Remaining calm with little fear in her voice so as not to alarm Arjak further than he already was Ciara said "Sir, I assure you that I do not wish to resort to violence but I will not allow myself to be 'brought to you'."

Arjak remained as calm as he could during the exchange, but the mental safeguards he had attempted to place around his temper started to falter as this fresh-faced child attempted to take Ciara away. Ciara had already drawn her dagger, the blade glinting in the moonlight like a sliver of that celestial body itself. Arjak's hands rolled in to powerful fists as the young, dark skinned man spoke as if he owned every hair on Ciara and more. The guards drew closer and Arjak put himself between them and Ciara, drawing his own heavy-bladed knife,

"You'll take her over my festering corpse. Find your own woman." Arjak sneered, his eyes flaring in the darkness of the night.

Arjak wasted no time placing himself between Ciara and the guards and Ciara knew that at this point there would be no calming the Norgard down. His desire to protect her had over ridden his common sense to not draw more attention to them which wouldn't help them in their cause to keep the group safe and hidden from the shadow people, and Cronus.

The guards seemed impervious to Arjaks threats and as Arjaks voice began rising into a threatening tone, Ciara steadied herself, ready for the impending skirmish that would surely soon follow if tempers continued to escalate. Just then, the door to the Inn opened, drawing Ciaras attention for just a moment as a guard tried to push past Ajrak to get to her.

(co with Mysti and Kris)

Kris
03-30-2011, 02:21 AM
(CO with Storm)

"STOP!", Caleb stormed for the group, halting just mere seconds to catch his breath, behind him followed two women: The paladin and the Pirate. As Caleb studied the group his eyes met with those of Hasan. Calab frowned; not even wanting to understand what got the prince to over act in way not fitting for his noble character. By doing so, the prince had almost uncovered himself, right there, in a place far from the palace's guards and the castle protection.

"You Fool!", Caleb hissed in low voice. The last thing he wanted was that something will happen to the lad, but on the same time he knew he couldn't talk like that to a prince and get unpunished.

Hasan's eyes were empty from any emotions. He just stared back, all the while not blinking. He waited for Caleb expression to change, like an owner would wait for his mad dog to calm down before talking to reason with him. Once Caleb relaxed Hasan tilted his head as if saying, 'look over there'. Caleb didn't catch at first but slowly turned to follow his gaze.

That's was when he noticed Ciara. God, she was like the princess' double. Caleb rubbed the back of his head and then turned around to look at the paladin.

*Flash Back*

"My lord sir!", Helena stood at the doorway. She looked around as if not really sure who she should address to. However once her eyes landed on the table on the center she turned to follow the trail right to it. The pirate Kilyna followed her without saying a word.

Calab looked up, recognizing the paladin as the woman who set before at the far corner.

"The prince, good sir, he's challenging my companions, I dare not lay hands against those warriors and cause political havoc, but I beg of thee, may reason be with you, come with me and stop him", she said, her voice urging and he could tell from her eyes that she was not the type to let so much emotions escape her barrier of expression.

Calab tighten his hand on the glass he was drinking from. Damn… she overheard everything they said. Not good. But there was no time to think about it. He got up and without even feeling like it, followed her outside. The paladin slammed the doors wide open and only once Caleb saw the guards around the two druids, ready to attack them at any given moment, did he pick up the meaning of this event.

He started to run.

*Flash back ends*

"My lord", Caleb said slowly, trying to figure out how to explain to the man, that even if he is a prince, he cannot force the woman to come with him.

"Sir", Helena said, looking directly into his eyes. At first he didn't want to meet her gaze. For all he cares she was another trouble to handle. How much did she hear? How much did she know? But he couldn't help it for her eyes were bewitching, eternal blue sea of sorrow that he almost drawn into. Something about that sorrow reminded him so much of himself. He couldn't bear to be angry with her, no matter what was the reason. For now he decided to shake that thought, now was not the time. He looked at her and waited for her to talk.

"She is not his citizen, sir", started Helena to say.

Obviously the paladin proved to be wiser then he gave her credit for. As long as they were on this land, Caleb couldn't have disobeyed his prince, he could only convince him if he was lucky enough. But no excuses appeared in his mind as to why he should let them all go.

"He can't order her", Helena dug her eyes into the ground, for a long moment she seemed lost in thought. Then she looked up again and marched slowly, making her a way between the guards and stood in front of Ciara and Arjak.

Caleb knew what it meant. Paladin going against the prince will mean conflict between Ivalor and Ascara. However she considered it and decided her friends worth more than land. Caleb sighed, "Please, my lord", he said to Hasan without looking at him, he couldn't bear to look at him, "Let it go, I beg you to-!"

"No!", Hasan said in low yet firm voice.

"What?", asked Caleb, looking up to see the prince.

"I said no", the two met each other's eyes.

Caleb was furious, "this is absurd!".

"I do as I please, or do you wish to go against me?", Hasan's eyes were mad. Caleb swore he never saw that expression on the lad's face before in his whole life.

"Go!", Caleb said to the others, "Go now!".

"I said no!", Hasan cried and marked the guards to keep their formation.

"Hasan", Caleb hissed, "Now it's not the time…."

"You DO wish to go against me, Caleb!", Hasan said with anger.

The guards seemed confused; it was more than enough opening for them to flee. Helena pushed one of the guards and marked the others to start running. Everyone started to run. Caleb nodded to the guards to halt.

"What are you doing!?", Hasan cried, "After them!"

The guards froze in their place and Hasan decided to run after the group on his own, surprising them, by being fast enough to catch. He seized Ciara by the arm forcing her to remain where she was.

Once the hand of Hasan touched the flesh of Ciara, Arjak's blood rose in his veins. His eyes became hard and furious at such an offense. The Wolf in him was howling and barring its fangs, his human reason abandon to animalistic instinct. In the heat of spring, wolves court and copulate, males fight for the right to a female. To Arjak, this feeble little man had issued a challenge to attempt to take Ciara, his female, away from him. Arjak's lips pulled back in a bestial snarl, a deep and menacing growl vibrating in his throat. His mighty hand closed tightly in to a powerful fist, colliding with Hasan's face. The young prince's nose flattened beneath Arjak's knuckles, the snapping of bone and the grinding of cartilage sending little vibrations through Arjak's clenched hand. The force of the blow sent Hasan reeling back, his nose visibly broken in several places,

"Next person to lay a hand on her will suffer far worse than a broken nose!" Arjak snarled, veins popping in his arms, pulsing with the beat of his powerful heart.

"GO!", Helena yelled and the gang dashed afterwards. Arjak was sure ready for another punch but Ciara and Kilyna decided to heed the paladin order. Helena looked at the running youths and turned to kneel beside Caleb, "Please, forgive me, it is not-"

Caleb's cold stare froze her, "Keep, whatever that you heard, to yourself", he barked, in his voice he held threatening, "Next time, I won't be as kind as to let someone like you leave… It's not just the offense against the prince, but, of right of this moment ma'am, you hold information that could prove harmful, if fallen to the wrong hands…", he looked away from her, "Let us meet again… Miss…?"

Helena didn't like to be provoked like that. It wasn't like she wanted to hear all that information. Was it any other time she would have addressed herself in her formal name, but this was a challenge, "Helena", she said and turned around, walking as slow as she could away from him, just to annoy him.

Anne Bonny
04-09-2011, 05:03 AM
Coooooooooooooooooopost with the fantastic Clyde and the amazing Repent!


Wren was feeling anything but refreshed from their time at the inn. She was physically and mentally tired from trying to heal Alister, from all the arguing going on with the new pirate, and from worrying about their companions that had wandered off during their stay. But at least they had made some progress. At least they had gained allies and more direction of where to go next.

She sighed as she folded someone's discarded cloak and tucked it into a pack. A long voyage by sea sounded all too inviting at the moment.

As usual the tedious whispers of demonic ghost teased and whispered inside his mind. Now that he was alert and awake he refused the slumber that biology called for him. Feeling as tired as he ever did, he remained alert. He couldn't let those demons, the one who whisperes phantom tales within in his every thought to seize and take control. However, being alert now made him aware of certain situations. He was going over the details of that day over and over and over again.

And only came to one conclusion, the only conclusion he could come up with. Getting up from his usual sitting place, somewhere nice and quiet in an very intimidating corner he made his way to where that woman was. She was getting things ready, probably to leave.

He cleared his throat though. Human companionship had eluded him so long, only now he mostly accepted the embrace of demons and their demonic hand. For they were the only ones whom bound his soul into place.

"Excuse me," he said slowly and calmly.

The woman made notice to his comment, but he found himself trapped. Within walls of those already dead and those now alive.

Wren turned at the sound of his voice. The poor man looked even more tired than she felt, she couldn't help but notice. "Yes Alister?" she asked with a warm smile.

His eyes were unsteady. He no longer held human biology, only demonic blood spilled through his veins these days. He pushed red bangs out of his eyes and only stared at Wren. He found himself stuck on a thought and a phrase all at the time. Opening his mouth here and there, as if trying to speak, but the words trapped in the nethervoid.

"All I...wanted to do was thank you for the other day," Alister paused he wasn't sure if she could see his eyes quiver, "And.."

He said nothng only phased a gaze towards the floor. How could something so simple be so hard to say? He had never spoken about his plight to anyone. How hard could it be to let these demons speak for themselves?

"No thanks are needed," Wren replied. She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. "I haven't really done much, anyway. There's much more coming up for all of us in the future."

She patted the floor next to where she knelt. "Would you like to sit with me for a minute? I'm sure we could both use a quick rest."

Alister was slight taken aback when she reached for his hand. It hadn't been how many years since he felt so human and so normal he wondered. He only listened to her words and nodded when she offered a seat.

It had been a while since his mind hadn't felt so boggy. So clouded by thick waves of miasma that stiffled his mind with its thick poison. That attached itself to ever form of his paranoia and irritated him like a thick rash.

"I feel I should thank you," Alister said, "Because I haven't shown the best of my personality."

He took a moment only to look at the floor again.

"Then again my personality isn't the greatest," Alister paused and only muttered the last bit to himself, "I have changed to a monster."

"I think you have justifiable reason to be..." Wren trailed off, choosing her words carefully. "Well, to not be yourself. But I don't believe that your personality is all bad. Someone special loved you, didn't she?"

Alister remained still for a second. His eyes gleaming with a hint of sadness. He remembered her and her angelic gleam. Now stained in whatever tainted universe she was in now.

"Lilyana," Alister said,"She was beautiful..."

There came a knock on the door that startled both. Alister got up from the floor and decided to make his way to the door. Opening it he found himself staring at a young man whom appeared familiar to him.

At least, it would have been a familiar face if Alister could actually see the man's face. Alister met eyes with a mask that looked of a spider's face. The mask was lifted enough to meet eyes with Zelvad in his full assassin's garb. "Ah, the man from the desert...Alister was it?" He sailed in, passing by Alister and closing the door behind him. "Where's Arjak? We need to journey to Norgard. I fear it may share the same fate as Ivalor."

"Zelvad?" Wren rose from where she sat and moved toward the other two men. She wondered at the mask, but his words were more disturbing still. The image of her betrayed, dying mentor flashed back through her mind. "Arjak and Ciara went for a walk. What do you mean the same fate as Ivalor?"

As they spoke, Alister stepped back for he felt he was not clear part of this conversation simply for the fact of the matter that he had no clue what was being discussed. He felt indecent as he stood there and they spoke of matters that didn't fully register in his slow mind.

He didn't want to interupt the conversation or the flow, as images in his head blurred with color and reasoning.

"Zelvad," Alister spoke even though he was against speaking in between their conversation, "I know your face. You were the one in the sands. The desert. We spoke briefly...I believe."

He wasn't sure what he remembered was reality or dream. Only spoke of the delusions he may have or hadn't experienced.

Zelvad sighed as he fully removed the mask letting the hood on his garb fall, showing that his hair was tied by the pendant that was previously around his neck. "I ran across Elder Lieroian while recovering my gear. He told me things that in order to explain now would need time we don't have right now. I promise I'll explain everything when we get to a safe place, but for now all I can say is that Ivalor is lost to the hand of strong magics and Norgard may soon fall as well if we don't get there in time."

"Zelvad, I know your face. You were the one in the sands. The desert. We spoke briefly...I believe."

Zelvad turned his head to meet Alister's as he spoke and smiled. "That we did. I'm glad to see you're still here."

Wren glanced over her shoulder at the bag she had been packing. "We're almost ready to leave. I'll finish getting our things together and the others should be back soon."

She turned back to Zelvad and Alister, concern written all over her face. Perhaps it was from the talk of Ivalor's fall, but she felt a bit spooked. "I hope so anyway. They've been gone quite a while."

Alister only nodded to Zelvad. But he then heard of the fall of the kingdoms and stared.

"So, then this means this is a blight?" Alister asked.

Zelvad scratched his chin a little as he pondered Alister's choice of words, pacing back and forth. "In a sense, yes. The nephilim are souless creatures of powerful, evil magics. They also have Emolalach, their leader, to guide them into what looks to be devouring all life on this existence. Ivalor has fallen, and from what we've witnessed, Ascara will fall soon as well. We are completely outnumbered if we choose to fight these things head on, lest we decide to keep a fire to everyone every night."

Zelvad stopped for a second and then turned to face Wren and Alister.

"If we can get to Norgard before the nephilim do however, we can attempt to get a foothold and work on pushing the nephilim back. To do that however, we're gonna need as many Druids and mages as possible, seeing as magic seems to be the only thing, primal or otherwise, that can hurt them."

Wren nodded in understanding. "As tempting as it is to try to go up aganist Emolalach now, fighting on his own territory would surely be foolish. Perhaps Arjak will have some allies there who will be willing to fight with us."

She took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. "And if not, we'll just have to find a way to convince them."

StormWolf
04-30-2011, 06:12 PM
The evening air was thick with conflict in the sandy alley. Arjak's knuckles were red from the contact that shattered Hasan's nose. That hand was now grasping the handle of his knife should the conflict decide to evolve.

The most level-headed of the Ascarans, the captain Caleb, addressed Helena in a very stern way, in a way that was brisk and purely business. While Hasan was still gripped in a fury of passion, Arjak remained between the man and Ciara. When Helena yelled for the two of them to go, Arjak paused for a moment, wanting to stay and fight, but at the same time knew that such action would only further complicate things for the rest of the group. With a gruff sigh, Arjak took Ciara tightly by the hand and lead her back towards the Inn where the others were still waiting for them, though he took a different route.

"Ciara, that pompous little shit looked like you broke his heart once. Do you know him from somewhere?" Arjak asked over his shoulder as he pulled her through back alleys and side streets, a different path than before. Who did that little bastard think he was, assuming that everything with a pulse bowed to his every whim.

"We need to get back to the others, and we need to get the blazes out of this bloody sand-pit." Arjak mumbled with frustration dripping from his every word.

Arjak was pulling on her hand, almost crushing it and dragging her behind him. She tried to wriggle her hand free but Arjak's anger had gotten the best of him. "Ciara, that pompous little shit looked like you broke his heart once. Do you know him from somewhere?"

Ciara tried slowing her pace to give herself time to think. What was Arjak trying to say, that she was somehow to blame for this? Arjak insisted on keeping a pace that she could barely maintain as she tried to stay in step with him. Know him? Ciara had never even seen him before let alone know him.

Frustration rang clearly in Arjak's voice as he said the next words "We need to get back to the others, and we need to get the blazes out of this bloody sand-pit." His pulling on her was beginning to border on hurting her hand. Suddenly, Ciara froze. She'd had enough of being pushed, poked and pulled at for one night, even if Arjak was among those who were doing it to her.

Coming to a complete stand still thereby forcing Arjak to stop she then jerked her hand from his vice like grip. "Arjak of Al'dun, I do not know what type of manhandling of women that you are accustomed to, but I assure you that I need not be drug behind you through these streets, and that I am more than capable of walking beside you."

Ciaras olive eyes flared. Arjak was not the only one who was angered by the nights events.

"And to answer the question you never gave me time to answer, the answer is NO I do not know who that man was." Ciara took a moment to catch her breath, studying Arjaks face, realizing that her previous words had cut into him, possibly even having angered him furthered. Under other circumstances Ciara probably would have softened her tone and used her reasoning, which normally did work on Arjak, but this night she did not. As though she were dealing with a child who had thrown a temper tantrum, she stood, feet firmly planted with her arms crossed in front of her.

Ciara had her fill for one night and would not move one step further until the Norgard calmed down. Arjak's eyes seemed to flare, his pulse quickening as Ciara's words cut past his thick skinned ego and in to the soft flesh of his insecurities. He was angry and such words were not helping to smooth over the turbulent seas of his emotions. The boat that was his common sense and restraint was on the verge of vanishing beneath the waves.

"Ciara..." Arjak started, his tone very crisp and heavy with irritation. He physically bit his own lip to keep himself from spurting something offensive or stupid. "I apologize..." he tried to say without growling, "I thought he was going to take you, and the mere thought is worse than a nightmare." Arjak finished, doing his best to restrain himself against the raging storm of emotion within Arjak's heart.

"I... Sometimes I do not know my own strength, or what words fly from my mouth absent thought when a passion grips me. I didn't want to risk losing you..."

"Ciara" Arjaks tone with her made Ciaras blood boil and she bit her tongue but just as quickly the tone changed and softened considerably.

"If you wish to not lose me, then do not act as if you own me, Arjak." Ciaras words came much softer but still slightly laced with anger but the look then on the Norgards face calmed her even further and Ciara lay her hands on his shoulders, looking him directly in the eyes "If you wish me to walk behind you, then I will, as your servant, Lord Al'dun; but if you wish me to walk beside you as your mate, then allow me to do so." What Arjak had underestimated was Ciara's pride. She was a prideful woman who would not be ordered about, for any reason, one whom had a mind of her own. But when it came to those whom she loved, she would give her very life if need be.

Ciara's warm hand squeezed the Norgards arm lightly "We must stay strong, united Arjak. For the sake of all, we have to help the others bring this to an end." Ciara leaned up, brushing Arjaks cheek softly with her lips then whispered in his ear "And for both of us, Ajrak."

(a co-op with the lovely mysti)

Kris
05-15-2011, 07:55 AM
Ivalor

"You're doing well to endure pain, but I'm not sure it will help you much longer", said Bolgan pulling off the hot iron stick from high priest tik-va chest, "I'd much rather you scream in pain"

The high priest, a handsome image of everything that was right was now beat up lump of meat, wounds on every part visible of his body, dark purple circles from lack of sleep and punching on his eyes, his lip was cut and dry blood lingered all the way down from his neck.

"Bo-lgan…", Tik-Va tried to speak, "W-why?!"

Bolgan smirked, "If you plan to give me another of those encouraging talks, I'd much rather to pull out your tongue. There is no use of having it, if you don't plan to scream in agony", Bolgan lifted the iron stick in the air one more time, but just before he randomly tossed it on the man's body he halted in mid air, "as for… "Why"… I believe you already know…"

The high priest looked up at Bolgan with cold eyes. He didn't care much for his own suffering. If he had come to this, god must have wanted this to happen, but… regardless… he was interested as to why he brought Bolgan's fury upon him. The high priest was even sure he brought Bolgan into the point of signing up a contract with Emonalach.

Memories flashed before the high priest. A poor family with an impressively rich record: Hagia and Sophia Leviticus. Beautiful red head child they had, with unseen blue eyes. Her fiery nature and behavior had brought herself the nickname of a demon. The truth was that most people really believed it. Sophia was an outsider with untold history, said to cast a spell on the high royalty Hagia. His family never forgave him. They lived poorly ever since, but Hagia, who was demoted, has never abandoned his duties.

Bolgan was one of the lowly ranked in the God Hand Clan. He could have climbed into high position but everything just simply didn't like him. He didn't do much to change that himself. The high priest was the first one who welcomed him under his wings, and therefore he won affection from the rest of the clan as well.

The high priest liked the Leviticus'. In his eyes they represented everything that was humble and modest. They were kind and never complained about their situation. Bolgan disliked Hagia, always saying he was too righteous. Only high priest Tik-Va knew of his unholy lust for Sophia, Hagia's wife. He never told anyone because Bolgan never seemed to take any actions on that part.

And then… Hagia died in battle. The widow never recovered. Helena grew in the image of her mother, taking a greater resemblance to her each and every day. The woman's beauty was her, aside of her terrifying blue eyes. Sure that will help to understand why Bolgan couldn't stand the sight of her.



Could that be it…

From the corners of his eyes he spotted a shadow. Emonalach.

Tik-Va chuckled. Was he waiting on him to give in?

Emonalach stepped up into the light, his features more visible, "If he dies by your hands our contract will end", said Emonalach with his husky voice, "Are you saying you are ready to become my minion?"

Bolgan lowered his head the moment he felt the demon's presence said, "That was the deal indeed. However I'm not sure my body will suit you now that I've been had by Dravon"

"Once you become one with me, Your human's present will have no meaning"

Bolgan nodded, "good and well"

Emonalach moved closer for the high priest, "Your pesky research, high priest Tik-Va, had let me to conclude that you might be more than mere human", he straighten his eyes until both his and the priest's met, "Which oracle are you?"

Gazing into his blue eyes the high priest chuckled, "I've been exposed, haven't I?"

Emonalach's expression remained the same, but the air become stiffer.

The four oracles; only few knew of their kind.

"It's our goal for the long days of genesis to stop you, have since you had the pact with the all father".

"How come that you remember so much of that time, you're just an incarnate, and you're not supposed to know or remember"

"I'm sure the others don't. But my element allows me to have more creativity and will. And I must admit that the files I had on you did help me to catch up on you: You look for the pillars of life… but you will be stopped".

Emonalach smiled for the first time, "If there will be attempt to, then I shall welcome them with glee".

It was then that a realization stroke in Tik-Va.

Emonalach's eyes….


"Helena…"


But before he could have continued Bolgan sent the iron stick right into Tik-Va's heart.

***

Ascara- Town of Xanas

Helena passed her gaze from one person to another. They've all been gathered to hear her out. She lowered her head for a moment before she straighten up and pull her blue eyes directly into those of Arjak's. She'd promised to explain after all.

"I'm not going to tell you my life story and earn some sympathy from you. If ever, I'm sure your tragedies were worst than mine, but I could understand that I act sometimes a bit over protective, but that's a given, having lived with a crazy mother for 11 years. There, I said it", she shivered, trying her best to fight inner tears and other emotions, trying to stay firm and confident and cold like she always had. Emotions were terrible weakness to a soldier.

"We know for sure that there is a terrible force behind the scenes", she said after concluding all the information that was gathered, "It took over Chanclera, its seeds strike at Ascara and has even corrupt Ivalor", She took a deep breath, "From this day onward, no clan, no guild, no city and no family is safe to be trusted… To be honest, I'm sure the evil force is aware of us. If you'd like to pull back, do so now, and maybe you'll have few more moments of joy before the great ending, but god help us all if you don't stand up and fight for what is right. We have a small group, but we can pierce the darkness and let some light through…", Helena tossed her armor and gear onto the ground. She had some trouble letting go of her spear, but in the end she tossed it as well, "My heart was always confused with god, and therefore I have no right to serve the god of Ivalor anymore… I shall face my inner fears and the devil himself. I lived in his shadow for far too long".

Helena moved from her place, "Thanks to the information we received from the assassins, we aware that this fiend, Emonalach, is searching for something called the "pillar of light" and there are more like those all over the world. The Druid Arjak mentioned that there is a certain oracle in Norgard… the wind oracle. We may be able to use her help to find more answers… as of now… we need a boat", Helena looked at Kilyna, "There's no need for us all to save the crew. We'll divide into two teams. One team will head directly for "Port Town of Tamur", to get the boat ready while the other team will rescue the men that are locked in the "City of Carlin". There are 2 days walking distance from one place to the other. The group that will go to rescue the men should be fast moving", Helena met Arjak's eyes again, "And strong too. We need to pull this out fast… I think the faster we reach for Norgard, the better."

***

Ivalor

Tik-Va's body was still. The iron stick deeply placed where his heart lied, beside him stood new shadows. Bolgan was getting used to his new body, trying to active each and every part. Well, he was no longer Bolgan, but something else, but on the same time he had a full access to everything that WAS Bolgan.

"I wish you would have given me younger body, m'lord", said Bolgan.

Emonalach looked away from him, "I find it surprising that you say such a thing".

Bolgan gave an evil smirk. He closed his eyes and focused as his body changed slowly, fitting himself to whatever he wanted. One moment he was a small child, the next a woman and then a cat, "Yes… after all, I'm the only general with the ability to change my look and location…", the cat said, licking himself before morphing back into the image of Bolgan.

"I'd like you to stay in the city for now… as Bolgan…", said Emonalach slowly, "I'll have one more general to awake before heading back to the Emperor's side… and of course, if Dravon will return to Ivalor I don't wish you to give him the impression that something wrong with Bolgan"

"Of course", said the General 'Bolgan'.

"Good and well", said Emonalach.

"So… what was the deal, master? Was it really to win some crazy old woman?", asked 'Bolgan.

Emonalach nodded slowly, "No", he started to fade from the room as he spoke again, "He actually always envied the high priest. He wanted to know if by becoming stronger and more of power and control he will still feel inferior to the high priest. He knew that once he will kill the high priest with his own hands it will be over for him, no further reason to live. He will kill the thing that actually made him want to get stronger. He both hated and admire the high priest"

"Strange deal to make"

"He was a strange man", Emonalach said slowly, "But aren't we considered strange to our kind as well? That's exactly what set us from being divine, from choosing the right way… and lead us to fell…"

"So he gave up his soul to prove himself he was worthy of something, but once he realized his life had no real goal he gave it all up… But I feel something…", 'Bolgan' said weakly, "The woman, 'Helena'… It wasn't until she was gone that he finally lost it. Pff… Humans are so unusual. They should be simple animals and yet they always act stupidly…"

"Indeed", Emonalach was no longer there, "We love to hate them, don't we? Now please excuse me, I have a meeting with a crazy lady"

Bolgan smile faded slowly and then he heard something from behind: a sound of water drifting and falling. He watched as the body of the high priest slowly turned to water and vanished into a crack in the cell's floor.

"WHAT?!", he screamed, "You're alive?!", he tried to react but the water was too quick to move and soon it was gone.

'The human known as Tik-Va is dead', he heard the voice of Tik-Va echoing from afar, 'But his will lives on and it shall be carried over to protect what he was born to protect. From early age he knew he had some kind of a mission. He knew of the entity that lived within the pillar of life, or more to say sealed forever by your master…'

"That can't be…", Bolgan called after him, "So his name… truly has the meaning it suggest… he is the apostle of 'Hope'?".

There was no answer.

"Damn… the lord won't be pleased with it…", said Bolgan and kicked something close to him.

***

Ascara- Town of Xanas


As everyone talked and considered who is more fit for which of the two missions suggested by Helena (Graeak saying that he as a mage wasn't quick enough for the "sneaking and get save men" mission), Raphael got up from his sit and stepped outside of the room without the others to notice.

"Where do you think you two are going?", he asked as he noticed that both Mikhail and Margureite were about to leave the place through the front door.

Mikhail chuckled, "Don't you suppose to be by your girlfriend side's?"

Raphael gave him a cold dark stare and turned to Margureite who was wide smiling as well, "Nothing personal captain, but world saving isn't really our thing", she looked at Mikhail and nodded, "But doing what we can do to get the ship back will be more likely our cup of tea".

"Didn't you two hear what had been said around you?!", Raphael's voice was even but rage was still visible in it, "It's too dangerous, hell if it was not, I would have done it myself"

"No you wouldn't", said Mikhail, "That little lady would have followed you no matter how you have rejected her help…"

"Let us do this, Captain", Margureite said slowly, "We, unlike you, don't have much to lose anyway"

"Don't say that", said Raphael.

"We really don't fit for what's lie ahead, not yet anyway, but Cronus is just one man. We think we can handle it, Boss", Mikhail said and added quickly, "And once we do, we'll join you", he chuckled, "Don't worry, we won't steal your ship".

Margureite's smile turned even wider, "You can't hide it, boss", she said, "We know how much you desire to see your red princess again".

Raphael considered their words for a moment, "You have two orders to follow: You are to watch yourself and return to me when you can. You know where I'll be ", he gave a weak defeated smile, "Bastards, don't have too much fun without me"

"We'll try…", Mikhail winked, "Same goes to you and the little lady"

"Just go now before I'll kill you myself".

They left the place and Raphael returned by Wren's side in the discussion's room.

Repent!
05-25-2011, 05:59 PM
These days seemed to be full of stories. From the histories of Chanclera, to mere fables made real, to the confessions of a paladin. Sinclair seemed to truly underestimate the paladin he carried with him that day who was now standing before him. It was one thing to see a paladin openly refuse their god, but to see Helena cast her armor and weapon to the side to further cement her protest....was something else entirely.

Mixed levels of respect and sadness covered the pirate's face as Helena explained the plan. He personally wondered his own mind, to understand if he could ever make the same sacrifice. Could he ever give up a life on the seas? The thrill of the wind in his hair, the sun at his back, and laughter in his and his crew's mind and heart as they tackled the oceans? Could he really give up everything on the sole principle of one idea?


Raphael's eyes surveyed the people in the room and locked onto Zelvad as he rose to his feet and spoke up as he lifted the mask from his face, making sure his words could be heard. "I will volunteer for Carlin. Though by myself, I may not be very successful."

"Then I will join you, assassin." Raphael stood and moved toward Zelvad. Zelvad offered his hand, which was taken firmly as they shook on this joint effort. "We need to be in and out clean and quick, both of our talents should be more than enough to free the crew"

Zelvad nodded and stopped for a second, seemingly lost in a thought. That's when he looked over at Helena, then turned to the spear and lifted it up, walking to the woman while removing the hood on his garb which caused the mask on his face to fall to the ground, his jade green eyes having an almost piercing quality to them.

"A new strand to the Web has been woven. So, if you will not fight for your god..." the spear was then held toward Helena, "...then fight for the people. Fight for those not yet under Emonalach's control. Fight for the hope that we will prevail against this evil and truly unite this world."

Helena hesitate, looking from the spear back at the assassin who held the weapon, "Am I really allowed to be hypocrite? All of the training I gain was because I was a paladin, my power is the power of the clan and it's god. Am I really allowed that power up, while I battle not only the devil but god himself?", she asked, her blue eyes begging for answers.

Zelvad rigid jade eyes softened with his voice as he replied to Helena's laments. "Your power and combat abilities were not given to you by your god. You were born with these abilities..." The assassin closed his eyes and pulled the tiny knife from the sliver spider holding his hair from his face, allowing the spider that was once his pendant to come to life and crawl to his left shoulder. "...and the paladins refined those innate abilities. Regardless of what you have been told, your choices have led to your own power..and to your own burdens aswell. As long as you are able to overcome those limits and burdens that plague your mind, you will be amazed at how much you can accomplish."

Helena consider his words, "What should I do now, then?"

The silver spider made its way back to where it was pulling Zelvad's hair back as Zelvad placed the tiny knife back in the spider and opened his eyes. "Go with Kilyna and the rest and ready the ship for our return with the crew. We shouldn't be long. After that we can plan our next move while in transit to Norgard."

"I'll accept your words. It will be better if I handle the other task, for with my spear, I will be much better of a use at a long range battles then of a surprise attack, But....", Helena picked the spear in her hand, "I shall handle my spear untill we are over with this land. I don't wish to hold that weapon once we leave Ascara... I will need to find my own path. I will need to find the right to hold my spear without the aid of Ivalor's god... but for now my powers will be at your service."

Zelvad couldn't help but give a relieved smirk as Helena agreed to at least carry a weapon until they left Ascara. "So it's settled. Raphael and I will press on to the town of Carlin to retrive Kilyna's crew. The rest of you will be heading to the ship and getting it ready to sail, and once we return with the crew: we sail for Norgard."

Mysteria
05-26-2011, 12:59 AM
Ascara- Town of Xanas


Only after sharing a kiss that had made Ciara wish it would have never ended Ciara searched Arjaks eyes, trying to see straight into his soul. Surely, he had to know by now that when she'd said she would stand beside him, on more than one occasion, that he knew she meant it. With some reluctance the couple returned to the others gathered inside to listen to Helena. They would finally have the explanation that had been promised to them from the Paladin.

The group that will go to rescue the men should be fast moving", Helena met Arjak's eyes again, "And strong too. We need to pull this out fast… I think the faster we reach for Norgard, the better."

Then Zelvad spoke "So it's settled. Raphael and I will press on to the town of Carlin to retrive Kilyna's crew. The rest of you will be heading to the ship and getting it ready to sail, and once we return with the crew: we sail for Norgard."

Ciara stepped up, unafraid to use her voice of reasoning "It is not yet settled. I agree, we need to get moving, but only two going to release the men will not be enough. I am accustomed to walking and can make the journey to the City of Carlin as quickly as any other here, but we need strength too."

Ciara turned to look at Arjak "Perhaps this is a journey we should make together, along with Zelvad and Raphael."

Maybe now, Arjak would finally realize Ciara's sincerity towards him, but would his royal upbringing, his way of life and the fact that he could have any woman in his bed chamber that he wanted at any time prevent him from seeing into her heart? Ciara knew that only time would gift to her they key to her question.

Arjak remained silent for what seemed even to him an eternity. Those wheels in his head turned with such speed he thought he could smell smoke. The lot of them needed to get out of Ascara as quickly as they could Norgard would be a save haven. No army, not even Ascara, would attempt to brave the ever-frigid wilds of Norgard. Arjak had only been to a shipyard a couple times when he was a boy, before his time in the wilderness. There was not much there that required strength as much as a sharp blade and soft footing. The wooden planks of docks have a tendency to creak and moan under pressure like an old hag's limb under duress, and Arjak was not soft footed nor light. Prisons, on the other hand, Arjak had been to a fair share of them attempting to have clansmen released who ventured too close to the capitol or stole something heavy enough to be noticed.

"I will travel with you, Ciara. I have not the imagination to see me anywhere but at your side and at your aid." Arjak smiled at Ciara with his white teeth and bright eyes, a charming smile that Arjak had flaunted to warm his bed with company many times before, but never had he the feelings and sincerity behind such a smile. Looking at her, he remembered the kiss she had graced him with but minutes before. She intoxicated him like the finest whiskey, but unlike whiskey, she gave him great clarity. He could find no occasion in his life where he was as sure-headed as this.

"My strength is yours, Ciara."

Ciara shook her head no firmly although a soft smile graced her lips "Let it not be for me alone Arjak, but for the greater good of us all."

Ciara turned then to the others, thoughtfully speaking "This force is not any thing that any one of us alone can defeat. It will take our combined strengths. Each one of us posses something unique: powers, skills, experience and cunning. Together, I am positive that we can defeat this evil threat that looms over us all."

The Norgard smirked at Ciara and nodded, pulling his steel helmet from the hook on his belt, the scratched and nicked surface catching the faint lights of the room. Arjak's gleaming golden eyes were bright with mischief and determination. His smirk was still present upon his handsome face,

"I ache to be back home in Norgard, but if I must make a few Ascaran desert rats bleed to get home, then my blades will drink heartily."


A Storm/Mysti blending

Anne Bonny
06-03-2011, 07:32 PM
Shifting her weight nervously from one foot to the other, Wren's green eyes moved to each of the faces of her friends. She had remained silent as the conversation had gone on around her, but her thoughts were whirling in her mind.

Helena's declaration of her loss of faith was the most disturbing, and it was at that moment that Wren realized how much she herself looked to the fiery haired woman for strength and guidance. While Helena certainly didn't imply that she was going to give up entirely, her words still made Wren shudder on the inside. What torment she must be feeling, the smaller girl realized. A stab of guilt pierced her heard again at the idea of Helena's grief for her mother, and the fact that Wren had simply left her to die.

Then it was Raphael's decision to go to free Kilyna's crew that caused her to worry. Wren's first impulse was to step forward and go with them, but as the group went on discussing the best way to go about things, she knew it was a foolish idea. What use would she be in the task? No, she would only get in the way, really.

Her place was to help ready the ship, that much was crystal clear. But what if something happened, Wren couldn't help but wonder. What if Raphael, or any of their friends for that matter, got hurt on the mission? What if they were wounded and too far away for her to help? She wrung her hands together in worry.

But on the other hand, perhaps her place was at Helena's side during this difficult time. If she could lend a comforting hand to her friend, maybe that's where she would be needed the most.

Finally they came to an agreement, without her input at all. Raphael, Zelvad, Ajak and Ciara would go to free the crew, while she, Helena, and the others would ready the ship for their departure. It was the best plan, Wren had to admit, but concern still tugged at her heart. She just couldn't stand the idea of seperating from any of them.

"Well I can't say I'm thrilled with the idea of leaving any of you, so don't be gone long," Wren finally said. "And look after yourselves, please. I've grown too fond of you to have you get hurt while I'm not there to help."

Her eyes moved to find those of her beloved pirate. "And that goes double for you, Captain."

Kris
06-04-2011, 02:11 PM
Helena nodded hearing the answers that were said around her. Each set his and her own mind and she had no desire to change any of it. They have chosen their path and she was happy inside they all decided to join together and that our future path will be entangled after all.

After Helena heard what Wren had to say, something within her took over and she just went and grabbed the healer's hand without saying a word. Helena only looking into the healer's eyes, as if telling her: 'I shall make sure nothing bad will happen to either of us'.

Raphael was soon beside Wren's other side, grabbing the healer's other hand, picking it up and kissing it softly. He himself couldn't say much or promise more. He knew there was a great and difficult task ahead of him, but the last thing he wanted to do was make the beautiful healer worried.

After that they all parted.


Chapter 4- We Are Not Separate


Ascara-" Port Town of Tamur"


Helena studied the place. "The Reverse Angel", Kilyna's ship was pretty much close to the docks and had little guard on, however there was no way to know for sure until they come closer.

It took them day and a half to reach the port of Tamur. Graeak mainly complained about not wanting to take any part of it, but he joined up because he knew that if the dark forces were after them, he didn't had much to stay in Ascara for. Alister had a mission of his own, but he was still very ill looking and Helena didn't want to endanger him.

"What are you thinking of?", asked Kilyna.

"I don't know what to do from here", Helena said, "I believe the only one I can count to do battle now is you. There's no way I'll put the healer into danger and I don't think Graeak is very willing".

"Why don't you ask them yourselves", Kilyna smiled, "You know, they all followed you because they count on you to make the right choice. I'm sure they could find something to do and aid with".

Helena nodded, "Were it any other situation I would have done it on my own, but we have little time and little skills to count on", she turned to her group, "We need a good tactic for this, I beg you to consider what you all can do to aid here. I warn you not to make yourself do more than you can. One small mistake and we shall lose it all.


***

Ascara- City of Carlin

It took them almost a day to reach the place. Arjak, Ciara, Zelvad and Raphael were ready to take action now.

Anne Bonny
06-07-2011, 08:12 PM
(I had way too much fun writing this copost with the fabulous Kris!)

"We need a good tactic for this, I beg you to consider what you all can do to aid here. I warn you not to make yourself do more than you can. One small mistake and we shall lose it all."

Wren bit her lower lip as she considered Helena's words. What could she possibly do to help in this situation, she wondered? There were at least a few guards visible on the deck of the Reverse Angel, but even a light skirmish was more than the healer could handle.

"We need a diversion, I think, "She mused aloud, "Something to distract the guards while we sneak on the ship and get it ready to leave."

Helena nodded, "Indeed that shall be a wise idea. We can't face them head on".

From the corner of her eyes Helena spotted the Graeak. He was silent, but he wore a threatening grin. She narrowed her eyes only to see that the female pirate was uneasy as she was, "What is it Mage?", Kilyna asked, or more to say demanded to know.

"Oh, nothing nothing!", Graeak looked like someone that was caught stealing, "Really, it's nothing".

"You've at least considered something. I beg you to speak up Graeak. Did you think up of something that might aid us?", Helena asked.

"Well", Graeak said, rubbing the back of his head, "I did".

"Let us hear it then", said Helena.

"I'm not sure that you should...", he said looking at Wren, "I'm not so sure it's even that wise of an idea either"

Wren gave him an encouraging smile. "Even the beginning of an idea can be built upon," she said. "Tell us and maybe we can work something out."

Seeing how there was no escape out of it Graeak sighed, "I'm surprised how you haven't figure it out yourself. I mean... look at you!", he said pointing the three females, "You're all very attractive ladies. While I think that I and Alister can handle the ship once we're on it, you three are pretty much the perfect diversion... That's of course if you're gonna lose the grumpy holy attitude and show some more skin!"

"HOW DARE YOU!", snapped Kilyna.

Graeak flinched and send his hands to protect himself just in case the woman was crazy enough to beat him, "Well, you asked my opinion!", he said, shivering.

Wren blushed furiously, her eyes darting from Kilyna to Helena, hoping for guidance, anything to get out of the absurd situation.

If it were possible for Alister to turn paler than he already was, he certainly would have. But even still, his face creased with worry and his eyes avoiding Wren's, he spoke up. "Well he is right. The two of us could do the work on the ship. And it would be an effective diversion, I think. But... but I would never ask any of you to dishonor yourselves like that."

"SEE! TOLD YOU SO!", said Graeak and was almost rewarded with a punch from Kilyna when Helena held her arm, stopping her in mid air, "No", Helena said softly, "He is right...", Helena sighed. Now that she didn't wear her armor, her yellowish dress was pretty tight and revealing for it was made of somewhat transparent materiel. The Ex-Paladin blushed terribly when she realized that in order to provoke those Ascarian males they will need to show much more than that.

"What are you talking about?", cried Kilyna, "Are you really going to go on with it?"

Helena nodded, "What other option do we have?", she said with anger and looked at Wren. She lowered her head as she considered the option of the fair healer mistress dressed in something which was inappropriate for a child of the "god hand clan".

"Not you Lady Avari", Helena said with an apologizing voice, "I...", she tried to utter but it was so hard for her to actually consider this, "I think I can do it...".

Wren stared at her friend in shock. She waited and waited for any indication that Helena might be joking, but with each word she spoke it became even clearer that this was indeed their best course of action.

But any friend wouldn't let another dear one go through such embarrassment on her own.

"No, Helena," Wren said firmly, her face burning hot at her own words. "I won't let you do it alone. I'll help. Besides, it might be more believable that way. A group of guards and just one woman to..."

She snapped her mouth shut. "Anyway, we'll do it together."

Helena opened and closed her mouth few times. When it seemed like she was about to say something she hushed again, the words stuck and sealed. She nodded her head and simply said, "No, Lady Avari"

"Oh! Would you stop it already", Kilyna crossed her arms. She looked at her two tigers and thought to herself how she would have liked it best if the two kittens would have sliced up the guards. But there was no way to make sure they'll make it out of it in one piece. And if she could spare her darlings from being hurt she would do all that in her power to make sure they were fine, "Fine I'll do it!", she said and looked at Graeak, "But I won't enjoy it".

"Kilyna, Lady Avari!", Helena spoke up and started to protest when Kilyna reached out her hand to silence the Ex-Paladin, "It's not like I didn't do worse than that. It's cool, really. The troublesome part is to find fitting cloths".

"NO!", Helena said with rage, "There's no need for you two to do it!"

Kilyna smirked, "And you think you can do it, Miss Holy woman?!", Kilyna giggled, "Are you sure you have what it take to seduce a man? P-L-E-A-S-E".

"What?!", Helena blushed terribly.

"I mean... let's face it... Have you ever even spent a night with a man?"

"What does this have to do with-!", Helena said with anger but was stopped by Graeak.

"WHOA! Ladies, Ladies! Calm down!", he said, "If it's too much, we can really find something else to-!"

"NO!", Helena yelled, "We shall proceed as planned, But I'd like Lady Avari to stay out of it!"

"Wren, maybe that's a good idea," Alister stammered. "You could just stay hidden while-"

"While what?" Wren exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly. "While you and Graeak risk life and limb to sneak onto the ship? While a dear friend and an ally humiliate themselves? While the man I care for and our other friends are fighting who knows who to be able to free the crew? You really think I'll just sit in the shadows and watch?"

She finished with a gasp and put her hands on her hips. "No more arguments, Helena. It will be the three of us or none of us."

"You sure can see how determined she is. Can you really hope to fight her will?", asked Kilyna.

Helena could feel the pain within the words of Wren. She knew the woman was worried sick about her friends and lover. She realized, on that moment, that she couldn't have fought the healer's will. Helena lowered her head, "Yes M'lady... But I won't enjoy this......".

"Good", said Kilyna, "Now where the hell can we get some decent cloths?"

Helena looked up at her, biting her lips, thinking how ironic the use of the word 'decent' was.

"Yo, Mage-boy!", said Kilyna.

"The name is Graeak", said Graeak.

"Sure, sure, whatever. Aren't you Ascara's citizen or something? You should know where we can find some cloths around here, no?", Kilyna dug within her cloths and removed some gold coins, handing it over to Graeak, "Be a darling and get us something to wear", she said and winked.

***

Sometimes later Graeak was back with cheap cloths. He decided to give the girls some privacy to dress up, but Kilyna was sure he was peeking. Once ready, all three of them appeared before the boys. Alister tried to look away, his face showing some embarrassment while Graeak show a wide grin.

Helena felt uncomfortable wearing what she did, and she tried to pull the material a bit lower. She hated the fact she could actually feel the wind hitting her legs and lower body part. The pirate girl didn't seem bothered but Helena feared for the healer.

Wren did her best not to continue looking down at her outfit, or at either of her companions. A crimson corset top, a black lacey skirt that barely brushed the tops of her knees, and tall black boots made her wonder if she'd rather be standing in public in her night gown. The outfit was uncomfortable and ridiculous, but she could tell by just looking at Graeak that it did the trick.

"Well," she finally stammered, her cheeks turning red to match her bodice, "I think you overdid it a bit, but it will have to do."

"Yes…", Helena hesitate as she looked at Kilyna, who appeared to be feeling less bothered then the two Ivalor females felt. They all wore more or less the same outfit, however since Helena was taller than the other two by at least a head, it looked to her as if she wore the less decent outfit, as more of her legs were visible.

"What's now Mage boy?", Kilyna asked.

"Yes, let's please get this over with!" Wren chimed in.

Alister spoke up, refusing to look at any of the women. "Well... you three will have to... um," he floundered for the right words. "You'll have to get their attention while we sneak onto the ship. "Then perhaps Greaek and I can ambush them and spare you any further embarrassment."

Helena nodded, "Good and well. We shall place our faith in you". She then nervously look at Kilyna, "Pardon me, Kilyna… but… how…"

Kilyna smirked, "I find it amusing you ask me for guidance on this, Helena".

Helena blushed terribly and looked away.

Kilyna giggled, "Follow me ladies", she said and walked in a way that didn't even seem possible for the rough tom-boy pirate, "Try to look natural".

With a sympathetic pat on Helena's arm, Wren fell into place behind the pirate girl. In the first few steps she was instantly in awe of the barmaids and women of the night who wore such impractical clothes on a regular basis. She was certain she was going to turn her ankle with every step, and it was an exercise in self control to not try to hold down her too-short skirt or tug up her too-low top every time she moved. The healer tried to copy Kilyna's swaying hips and suggestive smile, but without a mirror it was impossible to tell if she was getting it right.

At last they arrived. As they suspected the ship was indeed not much guarded. Two men in red uniform patrolled, while another four were busy playing some card game on the ground.

"Hello there", Kilyna said with a seductive voice. She moved slowly, making sure each and every part of her body moved correctly with the swaying of her short outfit, "Can we join your game, or rather, interest you in a better one?"

Helena quickly lowered her head, making sure no one will notice how bad she blushed. Kilyna's words were so direct that it made her cheeks burnt with embarrassment. She didn't even dare to look at Wren for support, knowing that by doing so she might uncover them. Nesera, Kilyna's falcon, flew above them and Helena remembered that should anything go wrong the bird will mark the two jaguars to aid the ladies. Helena sighed and did her best to calm herself down as she straightened her gaze again, only to meet with one of the two guards that were patrolling by the ship. He studied her with great interest and she quickly learned that he was the tallest guy out of them all. He then licked his lips, reaching out his arm and marking her to approach him.

Helena gritted her teeth and clenched her fists as she forced herself to smile. She was sure her smile was more devilish then the needed kind smile she wanted to offer for this, but she couldn't help it. She hated to be in this position. The man's eyes widen with a surprise, but only shortly and then he turned to grin. Oh god, Helena thought. She didn't threat him but rather provoked him. He waited for her to come, but her legs were frozen.

Well, as the saying goes, if Muhammad didn't come to the mountain…

The soldier moved for her direction, followed by the other one that was near him. Helena wanted to kill them if they dared to be too close, but she knew that that will cause the others to attack as well. And what if they were other guards around in hiding?

No. Helena couldn't have risked it. She saw that Kilyna and Wren were beside the four other guys that no longer sat down.

Wren wasn't sure whether to be happy or disappointed that their plan worked so well right from the start. The four guards seemed more than receptive to their presence, and each one on his feet and moving towards them without any encouragement. Wren counted their heads again... four? But there were only three of them! What would the fourth guard do? Her question was answered when two of them approached Kilyna at once. Wren felt her stomach turn.

Only one came to her side, thankfully. The guard was a sturdy young man with broad shoulders, dark hair, and a wicked gleam in his eyes. He wasted no time in slipping a solid arm around her slim waist. Wren fought against the instinct to push him away and instead flashed a smile that she prayed didn't look too sickly.

"Hi there, sweetheart," Wren managed, copying Kilyna's actions of turning towards the man and putting a hand on his chest. The man felt solid as a rock, and Wren said a silent prayer that whatever Graeak and Alister were planning would be enough to bring the guards down.

***

"Okay I think it's time for us to move!", said Graeak.

"How can you tell?", asked Alister who dare not watch the scene.

"Simple!", the mage said and pointed at the two large jaguars, "The kittens are restless".

Both of them slowly crept into the shadows. Graeak throw half a glance at the girls, "We better hurry", he said and soon both he and Alister were on top of the ship's deck.

"No guards", said Alister after carefully scanning the area, "But what do we do now"

"That's simple. You know what so great about Pirate's ship?"

Alister's left eyebrow lifted up in suspicion.

Graeak smirked, "The answer is... LOTS OF GUNPOWDER!"

***

"Just, I beg you. Try not to overdo. We still need the thing in once piece", said Alister in a defeated voice.

The two of them looked at the black line of dust that reach all the way from the ship to some distance between the girls and the guards.

"Party Killer", said Graeak. He lowered his head enhancing some words. Few seconds passed before a small flame turned to adorn his index finger. He held it up in the air, "Just be ready to mark the falcon. Kilyna will notice her bird and call the girls off. Well, here goes nothing!", he said, watching as the flame jumped from his hand and landed on the black powder, slowly burning the trail it followed.

Alister marked the falcon and the bird hovered above. Few seconds later there was a great explosion. Alister and Graeak docked, hoping no damage will happen to the ship... or to the girls.

Kilyna's eyes had also been on her falcon. As She saw the bird move, she quickly detached herself from the guards (much to their confusion) and took several steps backward. Wren and Helena saw her move and did the same, and were able to duck behind some crates just before an explosion shook the entire dock.

Suddenly wise to the situation, the guards began to shout, and Wren grew nervous that they would be caught after all. She remained crouched behind the crates, afraid to peek around to see if their enemies had seen where their dates had ducked off to.

But the shouting was quickly turned into terrified screams as the snarling of Kilyna's tigers suddenly sounded through the night. Wren covered her ears and shut her eyes, trying to block out the horrible sounds of gurgling and the tearing of flesh.

Some moments later and it was all over. Kilyna moved confidently to her kittens, petting the fearsome creatures as if they were puppies, "Good boys", she said to them.

Helena bent beside Wren as she reached out her hand in order to get the crouching healer back on her feet, "It's over, Lady Avari, it's over", she added a smile.

Kilyna's delighted face was second to none as she looked at her baby ship, which, aside of some scraps on the side that faced the docks, was in pretty damn good shape, "Sure been a while, my angel, you look lovely as always".

Wren grasped Helena's hand and held it tightly. "Thank goodness," she breathed. Then with a giggle, "Now can we get out of these ridiculous outfits before the others get back? I don't want Raph to see me like this."

The gang was later upon the ship, not before the girls changed. Now everyone waited for the others to joined them up.

Repent!
06-12-2011, 07:11 AM
{From the Minds of Storm, Mysti, and Repent!}

-City of Carlin, Ascara-

There were a total of eight guards in the stockade as they arrived...the dusk shift it seemed. Zelvad and Raphael spear headed the group with Ciara and Arjak watching the flanks and the rear.

They stopped about ten yards short of the stockade entrance and the pirate turne to face Arjak and Ciara. "We need a very loud distraction... so that the cells holding Kilyna's crew are left unattended. Would you two be able to help me with that?"

Arjak couldn't help himself but to smirk at Raphael's request for a very loud distraction. Arjak was not called "The Stormcaller" for no reason. Few things in life were as loud as a Norgard thunderstorm, and to a place like Ascara, which was so barren of rain and storm, it should cause quite a scare.

"I am sure I can think of something more than loud enough to make these dogs wet themselves." Arjak said in a low, quiet voice as he rubbed his hands together, small blue arcs of electricity jumping from finger to finger. Arjak peeked around the corned to have a look at the guards, sizing them up as best he could. This was going to be an interesting night, in success or failure.

Arjaks words jostled an old dormant memory in Ciara's mind of being a very small child in Norgard before her parents moved her away to the lush forests of Chanclera. She remembered the loud sounds of thunder that a Norgard storm could produce and Arjaks plan would work.

Ciara watched as the sparks danced off of Arjak's fingertips and bounced between his hands. Silently she called to the falcon hovering overhead to keep watch as she prepared herself for what was to come. While she did not have Arjak's levels of powers, she had become very good at doing the few things she was taught by her parents and now would be a good time to practice because surely her aide would be needed again once they actually reached Norgard too.

"I'm ready when everyone else is" Ciara said as she reached her palms out facing downward to the ground, her fingers waving slightly back and forth, closing her eyes then turning her palms to face the sky as the roots around them appeared to come to life, winding and weaving around to her command.

Sinclair nodded and looked to Zelvad, or the mask covering his face rather. The assassin nodded and the two split up, looking to pincer the encampment from overhead. When they arrived at their positions, Zelvad unsheathed his sword halfway, as well as his dagger. The same was to be said for Raphael's sword, and with a free hand Raphael signaled for Arjak and Ciara to begin.

Arjak nodded and closed his eyes, holding his hands up to the sky, as if he was attampting to grasp the shroud of night itself and tear it down. The thick veins in Arjak's arms popped as he started to speak the words of power in a deep tone that seemed to rumble like thunder,

"Hyrr-lopt, stefna hljóta en ţrumđi. Skjálfa zen himinn!" Fire of the Skies, I summon you and your thunder. Shake the heavens!. Suddenly, a harsh chill fell over the city as a powerful breeze churned curtains of sand from the streets. Dark clouds appeared in the night sky, snuffing out the lights of the stars and the moon to create light of its own. Flashes of arcane lightning broke the night sky, coupled with the deafening boom of thunder. Freezing rain started to fall over the stockade, drenching a city block in frigid Norgard rains. Arjak continued to mutter the words of power required to maintain the storm, but such a massive change to the weather would quickly sap the massive druid of whatever energy he had. Still, the storm was working, the lightning drawing the shock and awe of the guards while the heavy rain greatly lessened ones range of sight and soaked the soldiers to the bone with rains colder than they could have ever imagined, having lived in this stifling sand pit their entire lives.

"Act now, before the storm dissipates. I cannot maintain this for long." Arjak called out to Ciara and the others through the heavy rainfall.

Using the simple commands taught to her by her parents so very long ago, Ciara went into a trance like state as she began to chant in a low voice, commanding the roots and vines below their feet to move.

Slowly they advanced under the cover of the heavy rainfall from the storm Arjak had provided them with towards the guards who had gathered outside to see what was happening. With a quick upward motion of her hands towards the skies, and some words spoken that only Arjak himself would have probably uderstood, the roots and vines sprang to life, weaving in and tangling around the guards feet, binding them while the Zelvad and Sinclair attacked.

If the storm didn't bewilder them, the vines binding them to their positions sure enough sent them into a panic. It was at this moment the pirate and assassin decsended on the guards. Because of Arjak's magicks, dark clouds concealed a majority of the assault. Save for the flashes of lightning that told horrid tales of bloodshed and agony unleashed upon the guards of course. As the last slice of metal on flesh was made, an eerie silence echoed from the stockade. Then a familiar voice shot from the shadows seconds later, the voice of the pirate. "We're clear! Let's get these guys out of this hellish desert!" Arjak sighed and let his arms drop with a stifled sigh of relief, the storm slowly waning away. He smiled at Ciara and placed his hand on her shoulder,

"Well done," he smiled at her, "Your timing was sheer perfection." Ciara and Arjak both joined the pirate and the assassin at the entrance to the prison, Arjak drawing one of his sword-spears and his broad shield. The heavy wooden door of the stockade blocked their way. Arjak giggled the handle, but the door would not budge. Taking a deep breath, he muttered a word of power and clashed his sword and shield together to create a powerful shockwave of sound that splintered the door.

"Let us be rid of this dreadful place. I have had enough of finding sand in my unmentionables every bloody day. We get the sailors and get out, it shan't be too difficult." Arjak muttered, his voice gravelly as if he had run several miles. It was a drain to maintain such a storm in a place that never had such weather.

Sinclair nodded as they all rushed in. Walking by a large holding area, Sincalir called out. "Is the crew of the Reverse Angel present?" The response was five men walking towards the bars, their eyes showing mixtures of doom and hope. "We are."

Sinclair looked at Zelvad after their response. "Arjak needs to rest his power, could you unlock this?" The assassin nodded and pulled back his hood. The assassin had not seen fit during his time in Ascara to acquire a lockpick set, but now saw fit to discover an alternative to such trinkets. As Zelvad closed his eyes, the spider pendant came to life as the fruit knife was pulled from the tiny "creature". It then traveled down the Chancleran's arm and stuck two of its tiny legs into the key hole and began jiggling them. The pirate then turned to the men who stepped forward, "Lady Kilyna has requested for your swift return. She has sent us to return you to her ship." As soon as Raphael finished, he noticed the doom in the crew's eyes vanish completely. "So when do we leave?" One of the other crew members asked.

"Right abooouut..." *-click-* "..now." The lock was open and the spider quickly retreated to its original position and Zelvad returned the knife, rendering the spider to an accessory once again. He then lifted his hood back up to cover all but his mask as Raphael spoke. "Then let us depart."

Raphael felt that it would be easier to move the men if they split up and rendezvous at the Reverse Angel, so they did just that. Two went with Arjak and Ciara, two went with Raphael, and the last of the crew, seemingly the most limber, with Zelvad...figuring that the assassin we be able to move faster if he was with someone who could do second story work as well as him.

-Arriving at the Reverse Angel-

Zelvad and his part of the crew arrived at the ship first, followed closely by Raphael, third by Arjak and Ciara. The crew hurried on without a word and began finishing preparations for departing from port while Raphael quickly gained Kilyna's attention as Zelvad, Ciara, and Arjak walked aboard. "Our part of the deal has been filled. So if that is everything, then I believe it is time for us to be rid of this accursed desert."

Kris
06-12-2011, 10:33 PM
Ivalor-Capital Camelot

Darkness fall quietly over the fair city of light. Figures dressed in white followed a straight trail carrying with them fog and mist. One time they were visible among the shadows, then it was like they were never even there. They glittered like a broken lamp, showing light and consume it so fast it was hard to keep a straight track at them.



"Walls so white
Where your sorrows have a name
And day is dark as night
There's no remorse and no redemption"



Then there was a great burst of light and everything ceased to exist in that great illumination, just like in the first day of genesis. It lasted so briefly, but its sight was oh so marvelous.



"Close the door!
Can you hear?
The crowd is waiting for a last encore!
They screaming out for my attention

They chanting my name…"



Then there was darkness once more. No life. No salvation. No Hope.

Emonalach stepped forward, his blue eyes the only visible light source, "Join me", he said to no one.



"Like the deads
I am on the other side
They’re howling in my head
There’s no remorse and no redemption...

Hush my dear
Let the music fill the night
And soon it's all we hear

They screaming out for my attention"



The melody was visible in the air, but it was hard to tell what or who was the source of it. The song was charming carrying with it feeling of nostalgia and despair. The voice grew stronger and it seemed that it got nearer too. Lone shadow followed it, human form, but it was hard to tell was if it was a male or female for the voice itself carried a tune which was unclear to any gender.



"They chanting my name…

Don't wake me
Until it's over
I may be dreaming…
And awake…

They chanting my name"



The song stopped and the silence pierced like a knife. Now some parts of the figure were visible: Red long hair, red glossy lustful lips, red cloak. The woman looked up and smiled softly, "So I'm a female human this time?", she chuckled, "Not that it matters to me... We were never part of the mortals. Never were we bound by flesh until we desired it and joined you, Emonalach", the woman removed a black rose and held it in her hand. The poor thing burnt and turned to ashes, "I guess this time... I shall be Lady Rose".

Emonalach turned to look at her.

"Why this body... I wonder... Was it because it was the easiest body to find that had no soul within it... Or...", she gazed at Emonalach coldly, "Might there be another reason?"

"You have your mission", Emonalach said, his voice cold and distance.

"Why yes. Norgard... The oracle of wind...", The woman licked her lips and smiled widely, "Why yessss....", she hissed, her eyes turning golden for a moment before returning to their green color, "I'd love to devour soon... Trust, love, family, friends. Let me taste it all in a lovely play of war".

Emonalach nodded his head, "Then I leave it up to you. I have my own mission to look after", He looked back at the woman, his blue eyes glittering, "I warn you..."

"Oh, don't worry. I won't touch Pandora", she said softly with a tune full of venom, "I think I've got the idea of what you wished the moment you awaken me in that body. Emonalach, you might be the strongest, the wisest and the most cunning out of us all, but I'm still your elder... Boy".

Emonalach's expression remind unchanged and the woman chuckled softly, "You were never fun to tease to begin with", she lifted her hands, her body starting to burn in huge flame, "I have my orders... I shall take my leave".

The fire was gone and so was Lady Rose.


***

Epilogue

Ascara- Port Town of Tamur

They were all ready to leave. Each one and one of them bearing his and her own agenda. Their fate was already connected by flame of untold fire... The holy fire of hope.

Will that fire hold strong in the cold nation of Norgard?

Only time will tell.



In the black of the night she appears I can see that she's trying
To relocate the source of my fears I've been searching her high and low
In this dream she will show me the door to a new revelation
And I know that I've seen her before that she'll bring me salvation

Like the sun shining down on me, like the breeze on the ocean
You're the path of my destiny, I know you will follow me until Kingdom Come




TO BE CONTINUED....


Until kingdom comes 2 (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=17040)