Hero

[Housemaster]

RP details here (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=3665)

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Khent, once a town filled with modest prosperity, mining families and travelling merchants, all going about their business and daily routines. If you asked someone who lived in Khent before the occupation, you would hear of their busy market street, the entertainment at the public square where the INN and Town Centre are located, the spring festivals, and the friendly people.

Life in Khent today is very much different…

High fences fixed with barbwire now surround the town, leaving only one enterence and exit for the entire town. A large, quickly constructed military base of operations now stands where the Town Centre once stood, glooming over the once festive town square. The once busy streets now resemble slums, as “Out of Business” signs become more frequent in shop windows. Today, the only available job is to join the Grandian Army, the force behind the occupation that crippled the town.

Khent; Business sector

Amongst the few shops that remain open, one shop owner in particular wakes up in the early morning to go about his morning routine. Wash, get dressed, then shop for daily supplies at whatever is left of the town market.

“Heading out to get groceries Gran!” Houz shouted back at his elderly grandfather, who was sitting in the back room mending some leather that was shipped the other day.

Houz unlocked the front door and flipped the “closed” sign so it now reads “Open”. Stepping outside to what would have been a beautiful morning if it weren’t for the smog generated from the mines in the mountain. Houz sighed as he prepared to face another day, then set course down the street towards the shop vendors.

As he was making his way down the street, it didn’t take long before Houz realised he had eyes on him. Two officers were patrolling down the street, and quickly blocked Houz’ path.

“It’s 7:40, resident curfew doesn’t lift until 8: 30!” One of the officers jeered.

Houz sighed, “I got a merchant’s pass, it allows me to gather supplies earlier… and this is now the third time I’ve showed you!”

Houz was indeed annoyed, being harassed by officers that have nothing better to do then annoy regular citizens by flaunting their ranks made him sick to his stomach.

“Must have slipped my mind…” the officer gave an ugly smirk, “Besides, what’s a young man like you wasting his time with this business dead town? Grandia needs young men like you to further adva-“

“Piss off…” Houz interrupted and dodged around the officers to continue towards the market. This also was not the first time he heard Grandian propaganda to join their ranks, and quite frankly it gets old after hearing the same line for the hundredth time.

Normally telling the officers to bugger off and ignore them usually works… however today the officers were desperate to find new recruits. Higher command issued orders to double their efforts, so today would be the day they went too far…

[StormWolf]

The corridor was dark and gloomy, the sound of water dripping from a crack in the stone and chains shifting gently in the breeze. This was a dungeon, no sane nobleman would live in such a place. It was black as pitch all around, only one spot of light in the darkness.

In that small spotlight stood a man of around six feet three inches with broad shoulders and muscular arms and long hair the color of snow, tied back in a ponytail. Eyes of a fiery golden-red and a scar over his left eye. The man stood with his sword, Justice, in hand, the blade shimmering in the pillar of light in which the man stood. The blade was clue enough, the man in the light was Sabur Wolfborn, the Legendary Blademaster.

There was a scream that echoed from the darkness all around the white-haired warrior of legend. He took up one of the hundreds of combat stances that he had memorized down the six centuries of his life. The banshee screams grew louder and greater in number. Red eyes glowed in the darkness like a sward of fireflies around the Blademaster. Those eyes started to move in when....


The alarm next to Thom Yarik's bed went off loudly, shattering the dream Thom had been having every night for as long as he could remember. The sixty year old blind man sat up on the side of his bed and cracked his stiff neck and rolled his shoulders. Glassy eyes - that were a tell-tale sign of his blindness - moved about the room, as if they were scanning. The truth was that Thom, or who people thought was Thom the Gleeman, was not blind, but could easily live without his eyes.

The old Gleeman got dressed in his normal ratty clothing; a blue shirt, brown slacks, brown leather boots, and his colorful Gleeman cloak, which happened to be hiding one of Thom's favorite heavy-bladed knives. After making sure he had his money pouch and his knife, Thom grabbed his wide-brimmed hat and his gnarled walking stave before leaving his small home. The morning air was brisk and it woke the old man up nicely. He moved at a casual pace, not in any terrible hurry. Thom's plan for the day was to sit at the hearth in a tavern or Inn and tell stories of more glorious times, like he always did. Thom was always something of an attraction, so the keepers of the tavern or Inn never did really mind the old man sitting by the fire to warm his bones and tell a wild story of ages long past over to cup of tea or a tankard of stout drink.

The guards rarely bothered old Thom, they had no need to try and recruit an old man, did they? No, even if this old man could easily kill them with nothing but his hands before they last one knew what was happening. That was beside the point, though.

Thom found one of the bussier and more successful taverns in the Market district of Khent. The old Gleeman recieved a hearty welcom from the barkeep and maids. Thom was always a welcome sight,, his stories held more life and vigour than the dreary tales told by the patrons about how terrible their day was. The Gleeman took his usual chair by the fireplace, sitting with a sigh of relief, resting his walking stave against the wall behind him.

"What'll ya have, Thom?" the barkeep called over to the elderly man. Thom turned his head to look at the barkeep, the Gleeman's gaze dead and empty.

"Just a tea with honey, James. Thank you." Thom replied in as kind a tone as his gravelly and elderly voice could manage. Thom had a feeling about today, whether that was a good or bad feeling, he did not yet know...

[Cheshire]

Maria sighed loudly... all she wanted... was a drink... but she maintained her composure. She walked calmly down the street... two of her men with her. She preferred to walk alone, but the two were like brothers to her, and refused to let her walk alone. Simon and Leon... they were loyal... but a tad overprotective. All she wanted to do was to grab a drink. As she approached the tavern, she ordered the two to wait by the door and they reluctantly agreed.

She walked into the tavern and grabbed a stool at the bar, ordering some ale. A few of the patrons glanced at her, nothing her rather odd appearance. Due to her ethnicity, she had a lightly tanned skin, contrasting with snow wight hair. Hers was cut short, in a bit of a boyish style. Her outfit consisted of as little clothing as possible, to allow her to move quickly in battle, especially considering the arsenal she carried on her. Her shirt was a simple shirt, like a peasant would wear, but the sleeves had been cut and resown, and her pants similarly peasant clothes modified into a pair of rather revealing shorts. On her feet she wore a simple pair of sandals. The revealing nature of her outfit displayed her many scars covering her body. On here face, as well, there was a single large scar crossing the bridge of her nose horizontally. Her physical stature completely contradicted her masculine demeanor, she held quite an athletic build due to her lifestyle, and had a... most would agree, rather attractive figure, though not so comically exaggerated, as the common preference seems to be in many people's eyes.

Her drink was handed to her and she payed, the glances returning from time to time. She knew this appearance would attract attention... it's why her 'brothers' would never leave her alone when she went out into public. Any Grandian soldier or guard worth his salt would know she was the infamous Banshee of Khent. She hardly cared, though. She always kept at least a dagger on her person at all times, and knew how to use whatever she carried with great skill. She didn't earn her more... friendly nickname, The Queen of Blades, for nothing.

A man approached her from behind, clearly drunk... she already knew this was going to end just... beautifully...

"H... hey, girly... what's with the get-up..."
"... go away before I crack your skull open on this fine bar."
"Hey, that's not nice, I'm just trying to be f-friendly..."
"3."
"Wha?"
"2"
"You're not making any sense..."
"1"
"Who do you think you are, ignoring me like tha-"

A swift elbow landed in his gut and a second later his face was making forceful contact with the desk. He recoiled, bleeding badly, and fell back onto the floor, unconscious. Maria sighed, sitting back down and handing the bartender some extra coin for any damages she may have caused to the bar, and resumed drinking.

[Yoruyonaka]

Along a road leading to Khent, a woman rode a black-white speckled horse with a cheap leather saddle. She wore a hood that darkened her face. The saddle carried a few bags with food, clothes, and other supplies. The woman patted the bag on her side. Spoils from the last town. She had stolen jewels from a Duke and sold them for money. A quarter of the money she kept for herself, the rest went to the poor that lived in the town. That was her way, Lilith Villetta's way. She hid her light violet hair, a sign of royal blood for her race the Fryn. She wore a leather outfit that exposed her stomach and hugged her body to show her beautiful physique. Upon arriving in Khent, a few villagers eyed the newcomer, but continued on not looking for trouble.

One child who wore only rags looked up at Lilith. It was a little girl with eyes darkened from poverty and a hapless childhood. Lilith's blue eyes glanced at the girl from under the hood. Without a second thought, she grabbed a handful of coins and tossed them at the girl. As though the world brightened tenfold, the little girl quickly tucked away as many coins as she could hold and ran off in the other direction. Eyes moved forward, Lilith moved on. The town of Khent seemed like a nice place, when looking away from the soldiers, but it was just average. The thing that got Lilith's attention was a peculiar scent. The kind she knew. An Immortal. Slowing her horse down, she sniffed the air. It was a nice ability she picked up when needing her elixir. And whenever she found an Immortal tucked away by themselves, there was always a reason.

The tavern came into sights as Lilith pushed her tired horse on. Tying her horse to two others tied in front, she patted its side and walked into the bar. Her leather boots made no sound as she entered. Eyes met Lilith curiously. It wasn't all the time that a strange woman came to town. Walking further into the tavern she sniffed the air. Her gaze fell on a old man. Smiling, Lilith tossed her hood back to reveal the rare Fryn hair. A few gasps let out along with gaping mouths. Lilith could also see a more scarred woman of her same race in the bar. Making a note of watching her back, she took a seat near the old man.

"What'll it be, Miss?" The barkeep asked Lilith, who was still smiling to herself.

"Ah yes, I will have some water, thanks," She eyed the old man again. "And let me so kindly pay for this poor man's tea, I don't mind at all."

The barkeep's eyes widened slightly, but he brought her a glass of water and said no more. A few men in the bar whispered about Lilith, some afraid, some taken by her. She ignored all, but the old man.

"So, tell me," Lilith turned her head to him, bringing her voice into a whisper only she knew he could hear. "What brings a person like, ourselves, to a small town like this? Now I have my reasons, but you, what happened?"

Lilith's lips curled into a smile, she knew exactly what the old man was. And by his scent, he was at least double her in years. Of course, whatever reason he had, Lilith needed to know. The plans of Immortals always intrigued her.

[Housemaster]

Town of Khent: Grandian Base of Operations

Yesterday…

The old town hall was once a large wooden structure with a large clock tower in full view of everyone overlooking the town square. The only part of the hall that remains is the foundations. The rest has been replaced by a hastefully constructed Grandian Military Operations Centre. The large steel structure was a sore sight, with concrete walls and fences protecting it from all sides. Four towers took watch, mounted with spotlights and a 24 hour watch paroling it continuously.

It was late in the evening. A particularly well-guarded Grandian transport was parked outside, waiting for their important passenger to return.

Within moments, the front doors of the Grandian military base flew open. A small squad of guards hurried outside and made sure the path to the transport was clear. Before they even gave the signal, another figure could be seen walking towards her transport, and was being followed by a somewhat nervous Grandian commander.

“But… but General! We’re trying our best to recruit as many as possible!” The commander pleaded, his voice was shaking.

“That’s quite enough from you.” She responded, “You have my orders. For your sake I’d hope you follow them.”

“But my lady! The town is nearly empty, there is hardly anyone left to recruit. They’ve all left to go elsewhere!” He argued.

The general stopped in her tracks. She turned to face the petrified commander, “There are plenty more to recruit, and plenty of travellers who enter this town for refreshments. I suggest you stop making excuses and start bringing me results.” The general responded sternly. Without another word, she turned and entered her transport.

She sighed as the doors, sitting down near the front of the vehicle. “Onward to Truro… we have a battle to win.”

The transport, roaring its engine, sped away towards the exit, leaving the commander and the rest of the Grandian regiment behind.

The commander felt frustrated as he turned to another officer. “We better double our recruitment efforts starting tomorrow… General Elidos isn’t one to disappoint.” He ordered, and the officer nodded his head and returned to the base. “There’s going to be nothing left of this town once we’re done with it…” he sighed, then he too returned to the base, drawing out further plans to double the recruitment effort.

Town of Khent: Front Gate Grandian Checkpoint

Present day...

To the most eastern part of the town contained the only entrance, the rest being blocked by barbed wire fences.

“Well, this is annoying…” Sabin sighed, observing the cuts on his arms from his attempt to climb over the fence.

The large man was very agile and nimble for his size, yet the barbed fence proved to be too high, and the nearby trees had been cut down to prevent him from using it as a jumping point.

“I guess I’ll have to go in the front entrance then…” he whispered to the figure standing idly on the other side of the fence. This hooded figure stood roughly five feet tall, his silver eyes glowing through the shroud of darkness in his visage.

The short figure spoke darkly, “This is the second town you were unable to sneak in… are all humans this incompetent?” Opiecan asked.

“Naw, just me!” Sabin smirked, ignoring Opiecan’s continuous insults. “Besides, you know I can’t use wind magic to leap over the fence like you can.”

“I’ll meet you in the market, don’t make me wait longer then I have to.” Opiecan replied before turning his back and walking further into the town.

Sabin redirected himself towards the front gate. The gate was being guarded by a single guard, “Hmmm, much easier then last time….” He thought, walking towards the gate casually.

“Halt!” The guard ordered, Sabin obeyed. “What’s your business in Khent?”

“Just visiting…” Sabin answered.

The guard kept his eye on Sabin, slowly beginning to recognize his face. “W.. wait. You’re a terrorist! I’m reporti- UGH!”

Sabin lightly jabbed the guard’s neck, instantly putting him to sleep. Sabin then hoisted the guard on his shoulders and entered the town. With no one watching them, Sabin carried the guard inside the small watch post. Once inside Sabin sat the unconscious guard on a chair, took off his helmet and shoulder guards and placed them on the nearby table to make it appear as if the guard simply fell asleep on the job. His memory would be very hazy once he wakes up, plus the poor guard would be in a rough situation once he wakes up to his angry superior.

“Nighty night…” Sabin whispered to the guard.

Sabin stepped out of the watch post and continued towards the town. It was still early in the morning, and very few people were out of their homes. Being a large man with dark skin made Sabin stick out more then others, but the benefit of being large normally meant patrolling officers kept their distance. Sabin continued towards the market, where his partner Opiecan would be waiting somewhere. He spotted a small tavern, a place Opiecan would normally conceal himself.

Sabin entered the Tavern just in time to see a poor man get brutally rejected by a young lady. Whatever the drunk man said, obviously the young lady was less then impressed. The lady was carrying enough weaponry to arm a small squad, so the person would was clearly crazy enough to attempt pickup lines deserved to get rejected… right?

Hell no according to Sabin. A heavily armed lady, tanned skin, snow white hair, feisty attitude, all excellent qualities of a woman according to his book. In an attempt to have a bit of fun, Sabin grabbed the unconscious man and casually swept him aside and took his place. To tease her, Sabin used the exact same deadbeat pickup line.

“H…hey gg.. girly! What’s w..with the getup?” he imitated the drunk twit.

He got close enough to see her face, and his sense of playful fun disappeared quickly as he recognised the lady as The Banshee of Khent.

“Sorry… but are you the Ba-WUH!”

He was suddenly interrupted when Opiecan appeared behind him and forcefully dragged Sabin across the bar room floor to one of the dark corners of the tavern. The sight of such a small figure forcefully dragging a large man like Sabin was a strange one indeed, but none of the patrons seemed to care.

Opiecan sat Sabin down in a chair, “What part of undercover do you not understand?” Opiecan hissed, “This town is crawling with Grandian soldiers, and you draw copious amounts of attention for the sake of oogling ladies?”

Sabin remained calm, “I think our mission just got much simpler…”

Opiecan blinked, then looked at the lady in which Sabin was previously talking to. Taking note of the mass amounts of weaponry the lady had, it was safe to presume she was indeed the Queen of Blades.

“You’re still an idiot…” Opiecan replied.

“Of course…” Sabin grinned. “Alright, so now that we’ve found her, what’s our next move?”

Opiecan looked at Sabin, “I wouldn’t be opposed to watching her cave in your skull after seeing what she did to the first human… Because of you she will not have a very good impression of the GoG.”

“Shall I go talk to her?” Sabin suggested as he began to stand.

Opiecan forced Sabin back in his chair, “One stupid idea doesn’t correct the previous one… for now we’ll simply watch.”

Sabin sighed, but Opiecan was right. It would be best to see what kind of person the Queen of Swords is before they attempt to recruit her to the GoG.

[Atrum Daemon]

Veral’s dark hair shadowed his face as he crossed into Khent. He adjusted the large sword on his back to make a bit more room for the slightly bulky travel pack he wore. The pack contained most of a certain set of dark silver armor that was well known throughout most of the lands as belonging to The Silver Knight. However, Veral had grown to enjoy not being immediately recognized and kept the armor in the pack. His current garb consisted of a red and orange jacket that reached down to mid-shin level but only closed down to the waist. His forearms were protected by light orange armor as were his legs and a single dark red pauldron sat upon his left shoulder. “Runnin a bit low on funds,” Veral muttered to himself as he checked his money supply. “Local tavern would be the best place to catch any possible work.”

Veral pushed open the door to the tavern and was greeted by the familiar scent combination of good cheer and drowning sorrows. His immediate attention was grabbed by a person of small stature forcefully dragging a larger man across the floor to a corner. Cocking his eyebrow for a moment, Veral shook his head slightly and crossed to the bar. He shrugged off the pack as he took a seat and set it on the floor right by his stool, the tell tale sound of armor shifting about as it hit the floor accompanying the motion.

The barkeep was busy at the far end of the bar and Veral didn’t feel like trying to shout over other people to get his attention. He rested an elbow on the table and set his head in his hand, falling into a light daze within a few moments.

He was running, or at least trying to run, through knee-high swamp water. His armored hand was intertwined with that of a woman as the two ran deep into the swamp. He stopped when he heard her slightly labored panting and turned to see the wound she was clutching.

“Hey, pal,” the voice of the barkeep snapped him back to reality.

“What? Sorry. Long day, ya know,” Veral said, taking a deep breath.

“What’ll ya have?”

“Whatever the house drink is,” Veral replied.

He shook his head slightly as the barkeep turned away. Even after over six hundred years, Veral still couldn’t help thinking about her sometimes. ‘At least I’ve learned to focus more on happier times,’ he thought with a light smile, nodding in thanks as he took the drink.

[StormWolf]

Thom sat in his comfortable chair by the hearth, eyes closed as his keen ears allowed him to perceive what was around him just as well as he could with his eyes open, sometimes even better than he could with his eyes. No matter how well someone could mask themselves, a rapid heart always spoke of fear.

The drunken rabble was starting off early this morning. Thom could not blame them, majority of these men likely sought relief from the pain of losing their sons to the draft at the bottom of a tankard. Thom could relate, he had been there before, well, not as 'Thom Yarik', but he had been on that same road, but he had charged much deeper and with greater grace than these louts.

The old man listened intently as quiet feet made their way towards him. The steps of someone who is used to being unseen. The chair slightly creaked as the silent walker sat on it. Judging by how quiet the creak was, that meant this person was light, and by the sound of the person's thighs rubbing together as they walked, Thom came to the conclusion of woman.

When he heard her silk-soft voice, that merely confirmed what he had assumed. Thom could not help but chuckle when the girl demanded she buy Thom his tea.

"That is quite generous of you, young lady." Thom said in that gravelly croak of an elderly man. He cleared his throat and looked blankly at the woman with those dead eyes of his, all foggy and glassy. "Surely you do not mean to do this out of charity." he mused.

"So, tell me," Lilith turned her head to him, bringing her voice into a whisper only she knew he could hear. "What brings a person like, ourselves, to a small town like this? Now I have my reasons, but you, what happened?"

The old Gleeman quirked an eyebrow and cleared his throat, leaning in to whisper back to the woman. "What makes you think we are in the same boat, little girl? Hm? You step like an assassin, but no assassin would cary the riches in their purses you do. Too much noise and too much attention." Thom cleared this throat and scratched at his scraggly beard, taking a deep breath.

"I am just a simple Gleeman, my dear girl. I tell stories for coin, and I have a great many to tell. As to what happened, old age is not kind. Enjoy youth while you can missy. Unless you are the type that does not have to worry about getting old...." the Gleeman sat back as a serving girl brought their drinks. She was one of Thom's favorites, always a treat to look at as well as listen to, and so childishly ignorant and innocent. Not at all prying like the purple-haired beauty before him. Thom took his cup of tea with a smile,

"Thank you darling. I do wish I had a grandchild like you." Thom smiled like the sweet old man he was, and the girl cooed and gave the old Gleeman a peck on the cheek like a granddaughter would her grizzled old grandpa. He took a sip of the tea, the mix of sweet and mint was always a good day to start off the morning. Once the serving girl walked away, and after Thom finished watching her go, he turned his dead eyes back to the woman sitting so close to him.

"I have been in Khent for the better part of the century." he whispered to the woman. "Now, you are either a raving mad-woman, or you are one of the rare individuals that can saunter through time without a care for age or disease. I have spent close to seven hundred years in this world, and I have seen power change hands more times than I can recall." he took another sip of his tea, letting the smooth and warm liquid warm his belly.

"What you see is a simple masquerade, one that I change every lifetime or so. If people saw who I really am, it would cause quite an upset.... but what about you? Who is this woman that harasses me with questions?"

[Housemaster]

Town of Khent: Marketplace

“Will that be all?” asked an old fruit farmer, sitting lazily behind his wooden fruit stand.

Houz nodded his head, “Yes sir!” as he added some fresh fruit to his basket of groceries.

It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to last a few weeks since his grandfather never had much of an appetite. Houz remembered the stand that once sold pickled sausage that tasted so good, but many businesses were gone, and he had to make due with what was available. Never the less, he got what he needed, and it was time for one more final stop before heading back to the shop.

Houz turned and entered the tavern, a place he would visit during the daytime hours to avoid Grandian soldiers who would crowd the place during the night. Today it was surprisingly busy with faces he did not recognize. He did however see a few familiar faces. Old Jack Squires was once again unconscious, and Houz quickly concluded that he must have been picking fights again, or hitting on pretty girls. Thom Yarik was in his usual spot by the fireplace conversing with a young traveller. Thom always had fantastic stories to tell, and Houz often visited the tavern to his tales and forget about life for a while.

Then there was the barkeep John Allan, a middle-aged man who acquired the tavern from his late father. He was a kind man, treated his customers well and has an excellent memory.

“Morning Mr. Allan!” Houz greeted as he approached the counter.

John grinned, “Mornin’ Houz!” he was cleaning out a few mugs.

“How’s business?”

“Fairly typical, although there appears to be a great deal of new faces lurking about.” John looked around, indeed the tavern was more busy then he was accustomed to, but it meant good business, “An’ another thing too! Last night I got zero trouble from those Grandian soldiers! Apparently some important general was visiting last night, so no person of uniform was to be drinking! Finally got a night of peace and quiet!”

Houz looked amazed, “Really? I wonder if they got new orders to become even more annoying then before… I was harassed once again to join the army on my way here.”

“Well, I guess I can look forward to seeing them tonight…” John sighed as he placed the clean mugs on the shelf. “Now, since you’re not here for a drink of your own, I recon you’re here to get your Grandpa something for his birthday.”

Houz nodded, “Once again, you prove you have a memory like no other.”

John showed Houz his selection of whiskey, his Grandfather’s favourite drink. John sold Houz a bottle for half price, then Houz added it to his basket of groceries.

“Before you leave,” John added, “could you stop by ol’ Yarik’s table and say hi? There’s a lady talking with him and I’m not sure if he’s enjoying it.”

Houz nodded his head and headed towards Thom’s table.

* * *

Opiecan became unsettled, something was bothering the elemental.

“Hey… hey Opie? What’s wrong?” Sabin asked, the elemental seemed unbalanced.

Opiecan’s silver eyes then turned red, “Something isn’t right.” There was a slight pause, “There’s vast amounts of heat down the street from here.”

Sabin looked confused, but then all questions were answered once a frantic man busted through the doors

“FIRE!” he yelled, “Just down the street! The ol’ Tailor shop!”

* * *

Houz froze. They wouldn’t… the Grandian officers, they wouldn’t go this far would they?

Houz dropped he basket where he stood and ran out the door. The barkeep John quickly took off his apron, “There’s an old man in that building!” he yelled, “Anyone who’s able to help please follow me! There’s buckets in the back room!”

Houz ran with all his speed towards the flames, but once he got there he saw that the building was totally consumed by the fire. A few Grandian Soldiers were frantically trying to put out the fire with buckets of water across the street, the other soldiers merely sat and watched. Houz ran towards the entrance of the burning building.

“HEY!” A soldier yelled, “You can’t go in there! It’s too dangerous!”

“My Grandfather is in there! You’re not stopping me!” And without another word, Houz kicked down the burning door and entered the inferno.

[Atrum Daemon]

Veral was in a tough position. He had wanted a simple, quite morning before moving on from Khent, but the announcement that there was a fire and a life at risk made a part of him want to dash from the tavern to go help the youth who had just run off. ‘Don’t get involved,’ he kept mentally chanting. ‘Quite morning. Focus on that. Focus on…oh, screw it. I can’t just ignore this!’

Veral hopped off the barstool and dashed out of the tavern in the wake of the boy who had run off. In his hast, he left his bag sitting right next to his stool. But, his sense of knightly duty to help people had overpowered his better judgment to grab the pack to prevent anyone from snooping in it. He arrived at the burning tailor shop in time to see the youth kick the door down and enter the blaze.

“Hold this for me,” Veral said to one of the soldiers as he grabbed his water bucket and thrust his sword into his hands.

“Are you insane?!” the soldier cried as Veral dropped the empty bucket.

“Maybe,” he replied. “But I’m also helping that guy do your damn job for you.”

With that, Veral approached the burning shop and entered the inferno as well. “There’s help coming in behind you!” he shouted into the blaze as he stepped inside, hoping he would be heard.

‘I am such a damned fool sometimes.’

[Yoruyonaka]

The old man was quite interesting. Of course not really an old man, but a powerful immortal hiding behind a magical mask. She was quite curious to the reasons why, such an immortal, would want to hide himself. Unless...he was either famous or infamous. Lilith shrugged at the old man, patting the bag of coins on her waist.

"You think I'd be stupid enough to carry this around all the time?" Lilith replied with a smile. "Looks like some of the people here could use some help, and what good is money to me anyways? I am fine without it."

Her blue eyes faded off for a moment as Thom was served his tea, but she came to when the old man spoke again.

"You could say I have an ability to know who is or isn't," Lilith whispered to the old man, "Immortal. I knew from the moment I entered this town there was a smell about. Funny how I am always right. And after my time of living, it seems all I have are the thrills and chases of adventure. So, why am I harassing an immortal such as yourself? Well...this may sound funny, but you smell like someone I used to know, not exactly, but like him..."

Thom quirked a bushy eyebrow at the young-looking woman, chuckling deeply in to his cup of tea before taking another sip. He set the fine porcelain cup down on the miniature table next to his chair, scratching his scraggly grey beard before speaking.

"Well, is that an insult or a compliment, or neither? You could have known any matter of folk, from dogs to royalty. Seeing as how I have had the good fortune to bathe this week, I am guessing somewhere in the middle." The old Gleeman chuckled again, procuring a pipe (http://www.annonces.de/Shop/gbilder/gand.jpg) from his deep pockets, stuffing the tobacco in to the bowl before staring intently at the dried leaves for a moment, making them catch fire. Thom puffed on the pipe for a few moments, cobalt-grey smoke making a wreath around his head as he exhaled.

"So... you rob from the rich and give to the poor? Quite noble. I know a few stories about a woman with such qualities... but it would be impossible for you to be she, for this famous thief was last seen around three centuries ago..." Thom said around his pipestem, his words as heavy with sarcasm as they were with smoke.

"Still, charity is no reason to sit and bother an old man," the Gleeman took the pipe from his mouth and pointed at her with the stem. "You are looking for something. Something called you here... your call to adventure. Hate to disappoint, but you have come to the wrong town to look for adventure. Nothing exciting has come out of Khent in centuries. Trust me, I know."

Another smell entered the air. "There's another one," Lilith eyed the newcomer who was a Genian. "I wonder why this town has attracted so many..." she peered at the old man again. "Forgive me, I haven't given you my name. I usually don't give my true business to anyone, especially my real name. Lilith Villetta, it's my pleasure to meet your acquaintance. I can understand you know who I am now that you know my name?"

Thom harrumphed a gravelly chuckle, pipe smoke puffing out of his mouth and nose. The old Gleeman smiled and nodded at this Lilith with a smile, his dead eyes locked on hers.

"Aye, I know that name very well. 'Tis a name of the hero in one of my favorite tales to tell. A particular favorite of the girls about to become women. Many girls aspire to be like you, Lilith." Thom watched at Houz entered the tavern, talking to the barkeep in the young man's usual pleasant tone. That boy was destined for great things, Thom could sense it.

The old Gleeman looked over Lilith to see the other immortal, according to Lilith. Thom remained neutral, perhaps it was all happenstance, but in the stories he told and lived, this was how Heroes Tales started.

"My dear girl, do you not know anything about the Heroes Quest? About destiny? Hm? Nothing is coincidence, not in my experience."

"Usually never is plain coincidence," Lilith smirked at the old man. A flicker of light shimmered and she thought she could see...

She sniffed the air. Fire. It was burning outside. A man who recently entered the bar yelled that a fire was burning a Tailor's shop. Another man dropped his basket and ran outside. The barkeep asked if anyone could help and Lilith rose from her chair.

"So, old man, or whatever your name may be, looks like something is going on," She told Thom, "and we should help."

Thom leaned his head back against his chair and let out a hefty sigh, mumbling as he tapped the embers out of his pipe bowl and ground them out with the heel of his sturdy boot heel. Stuffing his pipe back in to his coat, Thom rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck before downing all of his tea in a single gulp, wiping the excess from his beard before standing. Thom moved not like the infirm old man he should have, but with the speed, grace, and ability of a young man half his age. Grabbing his stave from its place on the wall, Thom looked out the window next to his chair to see a thick column of black smoke rising towards the heavens. The scent of burning wood, textiles, hair, and flesh filled his keen nostrils.

"Come on then, Lilith. I am not getting any younger." With that, Thom navigated his way over and around the obstacles of the tavern with the grace and speed of a panther on the hunt. Once Thom's boots hit soil, the old man broke in to a solid run that would leave most sprinters gawking in shameful disbelief.

Grinning at what she saw, Lilith followed the old man. She heard some people in the bar gawking in astonishment at Thom's ability. Lilith just became more excited. Tugging off the coin bag, she tossed it in a satchel that hung on her horse, and with that she glided after Thom. Matching his speed with footsteps as silent as death. Her keen eyes spotted the flaming house and the door kicked down with heat escaping the blaze. Grandian soldiers worked busily to put out the fire which didn't seem to be working well.

"So, old man, shall we?" Lilith asked Thom, her eyes lit up with excitement.

[co-op with the StormWolf]

[Cheshire]

The moment, she heard fire, Maria got up and dashed outside. This was her home, whether the Grandians thought so or not, it was her city. She had to help. As she bolted through the door, both of her brothers tried to stop her, but she rushed past them.

"Help me if you want, but no stopping me!"

Simon yelled out to her, "No, there'll be Grandians there!"

"I can kill them if I need to and you know it, stop worrying!"

Before he could respond she was gone, and the two of them ran after her.

As she arrived, she saw some Grandian soldiers sitting and watching... she was furious, but one thing at a time, she'd keep her eyes on them and kill them when all was said and done with the fire.

She looked around and found a few spare buckets, presumable belonging to the useless Grandians. She sped forward as a soldier stood up to try and stop her... she dropped, sweeping him to the ground, before continuing on in a moment. Grabbing the buckets she turned just as Simon and Leon caught up. She trust the buckets and Leon, who used a simple magic spell to fill it with water.

She dumped one on herself and threw another into the blaze before rushing in. As she did someone yelled at her about someone else running in first, she just grunted and muttered something about needing to save them too now.

Leon sighed and picked up a bucket, "Well, might as well help put out the fire while she does her hero thing..." Simon nodded, before putting his water magic to good use... Leon shooting a vicious glare at any soldier who tries to stop them.

[StormWolf]

"So, old man, shall we?" Thom heard Lilith ask with a playful, possibly snide tone in her voice. Thom harrumphed and gazed at the fire with his dead eyes. The heat of the inferno hit him like he was submerged in a sea, the roaring of the flames filled Thom's ears and the smell of things burning was strong enough to make the old Gleeman want to scratch his nose.

"I shall, little girl. You go fetch some water while I fetch the boy." Thom scowled as he studied the burning building. The tongues of flame were quickly eating away at the integrity of the structure. With a grumble of a sigh, Thom thrust his stave into the mud before removing his Gleeman's cloak and hanging the colorful piece of clothing on the stave.

Thom stared at the threshold of the tailors shop, the frame engulfed in hellish fire. The heat beat against the old man. His dead eyes slowly began to gain life, going from glossy and blind to a near-feral color, almost a mirror of the fire before them. The cat-like pupils dialated to absorb every detail as adrenaline surged through Thom's system.

He charged through the burning gateway to the hell beyond. Once Thom passes through the threshold to the house, his ears were filled with the roaring of fire and flames. The heat beat against Thom's body, making thin white whisps of smoke rise from his skin.

The smoke was thick and the heat only got greater as Thom proceeded deeper into the structure. The white smoke got thicker around the old Gleeman as Thom's skin still continued to burn away. Thom could hear the voice of Houze getting closer, but the chaos surrounding Thom so deep in the inferno was disorienting.

"Houz!" Thom called out, his voice sounding slightly different. It sounded more refined, like a, ancient blade that had been oiled and sharpened to perfection, becoming much stronger and more deadly, but retaining the ages of experience.

"Houz! Where are you?!" Thom called out, his body almost completely concealed by the smoke from his burning flesh. "Where are you, lad? Speak so I can find you!"

Amongst the burning wreckage within the tailor shop, a loud coughing could be heard. Houz heard Thom's voice call out to him, yet somehow while searching through the storage room, the fumes made Houz choke.

"I'm *cough cough* I'm..*cough Over..." Houz struggled to give out his position as he staggered around in the storage room.

He felt as if he was going to pass out any moment now, but his grandfather was still missing, he couldn't quit now!

While Houz did not give out where he exactly was, the noise was enough to point Thom in the right direction. Now completely consumed in misty white smoke, Thom moved with the grace of a predatory feline and the power of a wolf on the prowl. He followed the sound of Houz's coughing to where the young man was, nearly fainted from the thick smoke, which seemed to have much less of an effect on the old man.

The smoke that surrounded Thom started to dissipate as he approached Houz, reaching out and gripping the young man on the shoulder with a firm, bruising grip. While the power of the grip might seem like over-compensation, one will remember they are alive and awake when they can feel pain.

"Stand up, son." a cold, experience, and mystical voice reached Houz's ears as he was lifted from the ground with little effort. Thom was gone, that visage burnt away in the intense heat of the fire. In Thom's place stood a man with hair as white as snow and skin almost as pale. His fiery eyes looked like rings of iron pulled from a furnace. Over the left side of his face was a deep scar that went over his eye.

This was Sabur Wolfborn, the Blademaster of legend.

"We have to go, lad. This house is falling down on top of us."

The tight grip on Houz's shoulder caught him by surprise, grabbing him just as Houz decided to make his way to the second level. Once he was told to stand up, Houz did not recongnise the voice one bit. Perhaps it was the fellow that followed him in the inferno behind him, the man who was also at the Tavern this morning.

Regardless of who it was, Houz wanted to escape his grip and continue his search for his grandfather, regardless of how lightheaded he was getting. He turned around to try to tell whoever followed him to lay off, but upon seeing Sabur's face, he became even more confused. White hair, pale skin reflecting the red heat, fiery eyes, and the iconic scar over the eye. This was the exact discription Thom gave of Sabur in one of his stories to Houz. Perhaps it was the heat, and Houz did inhale a lot of smoke... perhaps it was simply an illusion.

"Get off *cough* me!" Houz wheezed as he broke free of Sabur's grip and continued upstairs. As Houz ran up, falling debris crushed its way between Houz and Sabur, cutting off his path. Houz stumbled to the second level and kicked open the door to his bedroom. It was a complete inferno inside, all of his pocessions in flames, but this was not his concern at the moment. He moved onward to the second room, his grandfather's bedroom.

With one last bit of strength Houz kicked open the door and staggered inside. Shielding his eyes from the smoke, Houz scanned the room for any signs of his Grandfather. At first glance there was nothing but fire and smoke, but in the corner behind heavy debris sat an old man. No words were said, Houz couldn't waste his energy. He quickly ran over to the flaming debris and attempted to lift it out of the way. The hot cinders and wood burned deep into Houz's skin, but he didn't care, he needed to save his grandfather.

The old man stood up, placing his old palms on Houz's burnt hands. "Stop..." he whispered, then leaned close enough to whisper his last words into Houz's ear. Once he was finished, the old man pushed Houz in the opposite direction as more debris fell between him and his grandfather.

If Houz had any breath left in him, it would have been used to scream in fustration. Unfortunately the young man inhaled too much smoke, and quickly blacked out, falling on the floor with zero stength left, and a hungry fire ready to mark his grave.

Meanwhile, Sabur stood among the flames with a cold mask on his face. There was no expression on the Blademaster's face when he stared at the burning wreckage that blocked his way upstairs. Sabur's eyes tightened as he put his hands before him, then slowly drew them closer to his core, like he was pulling a giant bowstring. Sabur's fingertips tingled as he began to channel a spell powerful enough to discentigrate the debris blocking his path.

Suddenly, the ceiling above Sabur creaked. The Immortal's keen ears picked up the sound quickly, allowing the Blademaster to step aside calmly as the ceiling caved in. Sabur gazed at the hole made. He chuckled and leapt to the second floor through the hole recently made. Sabur continued his search without skipping a beat.

The Blademaster found the young man collapsed on the ground near another burning pile of debris that reeked of burning skin, melting hair, and boiling blood. Sabur grimaced at the smell and the heat before grabbing Houz by the collar and threw the lad over his shoulder like a sack of flour. The walls of the structure creaked and groaned with strain as more of the house started to collapse.

Sabur was on his way out when his ears picked up a ruccus downstairs. It must have been the other man from the tavern that leapt to help.

"You may want to be clear of this building, lad. It will be coming down in mere minutes." Sabur called through the hole in the floor. He could only hope the man heard him. One life was lost today already. The Blademaster broke in to that cat-like run of his, aiming for a window before diving through the glass and rolled through the air, landing skillfully on his feet.

Sabur quickly snatched his cloak from his stave and threw it on, pulling up the hood to hide his face once he set Houz down.

"Breathe deeply, lad. Fill your lungs."

((co-op between Housemaster and Stormwolf))

[Atrum Daemon]

Unfortunately, Veral couldn’t hear Sabur’s warning over the hunk of burning wood breaking from the ceiling and falling straight for him. With a swift strike of his armored forearm, the burning debris shattered. His ears picked up the sounds of coughing and fearful sobbing close by. Forcefully shouldering his way through a burning door, he found himself faced with two people, a man and a woman, who were still alive.

“I’m getting you two out of here,” Veral said over the blaze.

“How can you take us both in time?” the man cried.

“Just trust me.”

Veral grabbed the woman, who looked worse for wear than the man, and hefted her onto his shoulders. Signaling the man to grab the back of his coat, Veral quickly made got the two out of the room just before the ceiling caved in. Thinking fast, Veral turned to face his back to a wall, set the woman on her feet and the three joined in a tight embrace with their heads bowed. With a great effort, Veral threw himself backwards and smashed through the wall, landing hard on his back with the couple safe and alive.

Veral nodded and waved at the two from his spot on the ground while the couple thanked him and were helped up by the soldiers. Groaning and pushing himself to his feet, he walked over to the young soldier still holding his sword and snatched the blade from his hands, strapping it onto his back where it belonged. Taking a glance at the hooded fellow and the boy he saved, Veral heaved a deep breath and started walking quickly back to the tavern. He had to get back before anyone got foolish and started rooting through his pack.

‘Well, that wasn’t the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. But, it’s a close second.’

[Housemaster]

Both Sabin and Opiecan remained seated in their corner while other patrons ran out to help put out the fire down the street. Opiecan’s hood hid any signs of expression or reaction from the fire, spite the fact the elemental felt strange when he first detected it. Sabin however felt uneasy. He was not the type of person to sit around while others needed help.

Sabin couldn’t remain idle any longer, “I’m going to help, you should come too!”

“And draw even more attention to ourselves then we already had?” Opiecan replied coldly, “We won’t find any recruits if we’re caught in another skirmish between ourselves and Grandian soldiers.”

Sabin felt frustrated, “Well staying here when we… I mean you… are probably the best person to help put out a fire.” The large man stood up, “I’m going out there, if you want to stop me then do it now.”

There was a moment of silence before Opiecan replied, “You’re a moron…” as the elemental sighed and stood up to follow Sabin out of the tavern.

Both Sabin and Opiecan quickly made their way to the burning inferno. The tailor shop was engulfed in flames, thick grey smoke filling the morning sky. Sabin felt the heat against his skin, and he witnessed two Grandian Soldiers frantically dumping water buckets on the shop while six others stood across the street, simply watching the building burn.

“I sense foul play here…” Opiecan whispered to Sabin, “I knew I shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

“Well, should I jump in and see if anyone’s inside?” Sabin asked.

Opiecan shifted his eyes at Sabin, “No need…”

Moments later, a Sabur dove through the front window carrying Houz from the inferno.

“And another…” Opiecan motioned to Veral who crashed through a wall with two people.

The elemental raised his left hand while his eyes turned a light blue. “Time to see how these lazy soldiers react to this…”

Opiecan wove his hand through the air, tracing the outline of the burning inferno. Seconds later, the fire suddenly stopped, leaving nothing but smoke and burnt wood. The Grandian officers looked stunned, and frantically looked around to who was responsible.

* * *

Houz’s eyes opened wide, his first instinct was to gasp for air. Oxygen felt like a gift now as he took deep breaths, still recovering from inhaling the smoke. He was being held by a cloaked figure, whose voice he did not recognise. Whoever the voice belonged to, he saved his life, so he was more then thankful. However, a few seconds later he realised how burned his hands were. His hands felt like there were on fire, and looking down to his hands he saw the burnt skin and blood replacing the skin, painfully realising that handling hot cinders was not the best thing to do. While he felt the intense pain, he came to another realisation.

“My Grandfather!” he exclaimed as he looked at Sabur’s hooded figure, “Did you save my grandfather?”

[That_Guy]

Silvio wiped his sweating brow as he removed the white hot metal from the furnace. Soon the small smithery became filled with the loud ringing clangs of metal striking metal. To an untrained eye, one would see a young Dijhi man working furiously over a long lump of uneven metal, barely changing the shape before plunging the metal back into the fire. However, Silvio saw a sword hidden within the metal, a large steel claymore waiting to be brought out of it's ugly metal confines. With each loud clang Silvio became one step closer to revealing his masterpiece.

Silvio sighed as someone pounded on the door at the front of the shop, his work was to be interrupted once again. As Silvio set the large bar of steel back into the furnace, he shouted, "Come in!" and proceded to grumble about how brittle the metal will become if he overheated the bar of steel. He heard multiple heavy footsteps enetering the front of the shop and proceding to the work room where Silvio waited.From the sound of the heavy footfalls, Silvio guessed the Grandians were delivering more ore from the mines. Odd, I thought they delivered their ores this morning...

Five large Grandian soldiers suddenly burst through the door with a snide look on their faces, all hopes of another delivery were instantly dashed. Silvio's heart skipped a beat, soldiers entering his own shop could only mean trouble for him, and his weapons were of no use to him against five officers, besides, how could he possibly account for five dead soldiers?

Finally one of the older giants spoke in a grumbling voice, "Hey Silvie," Silvio gritted his teeth, he despised how soldiers constantly harassed him about his foreign name, "you know something?" The other four officers chuckled in amusement, as if their leader was about to play some kind of prank on Silvio.

Silvio gulped before stammering, "W-what can I do for you... S-sir?"

The big man grinned in delight, savoring the moment as the passive young man squirmed under his strength. The officer began to step closer to Silvio, and in response Silvio took a small step in retreat. The game continued until Silvio was pressed against the wall with all five blocks of muscle surrounding him like a pack of hungry wolves. Finally the leader broke the frightening silence once again, this time talking carefully, as if pondering his every word, "You're a good man Silvio."

The statement caught the Dijhi off guard, he was expecting some form of harassment from the giant, the least thing he expected was praise from the evil man.

"Don't be so surprised, you have served us Grandians well by supplying us with that metal." He motioned with his big meaty fist to a pile of steel bars neatly arranged in the corner of the room. Silvio could barely breathe, he was beginning to see where this conversation was heading. The hulking officer sensed it, and a broad smile splayed across his gruff features.

"But of course, you could serve us better. And I think you know exactly how, Silvio." Now the battle scarred face was only inches away from Silvio's own, and it was clear who had the upper hand. In a triumphant and grand voice, the officer stated, "Silvio of the Dijhi people, you are hereby enlisted into the great and noble Grandian military!" Just then one of the officer's goons shoved the official document into Silvio's chest, forcing the air out of his lungs.

With trembling hands Silvio opened the sealed parchment and read everything, just to make sure this wasn't a grand hoax, or some horrible nightmare. However, Silvio was fully awake, and the royal seal embedded on the parchment signified that he was to immediately enlist in the Grandian military. He sunk to the floor, sobbing in pity for his cruel fate he was now forced to live. The big men laughed and hooted in triumph, before they were all silenced by the big officer who spoke once more, "You have only a few moments to pack your bags boy, leave everything else behind. You won't need it where you're going!" The harsh statement caused another round of laughter from the men, who proceeded to wait in the front room while Silvio prepared himself.

Silvio marched glumly up the stairs to his room where he removed his filthy smithing garb and slipped on his cool Dijhi robe complete with a hood, long sleeves, knee-high sandals, and gloves that protected his hands from the sun. As he rummaged through his closet a large heavy object thudded against the floor. Silvio picked the familiar bundle and unwrapped his traditional Dijhi scimitar, complete with a scabbard, a silver hilt, and jewel studded pommel. He unsheathed the beautiful blade, razor sharp and durable, with a silver pattern across the flat of the blade in the design of a creeping vine. As he gripped the cold metal he felt a degree of comfort and peace, and as he slashed the air he began to realize he was no one's slave, and he always had a choice. He sheathed the weapon, and grabbed his recurve bow and arrows before stancing himself in front of the crudely made window.

Silvio took a deep breath before smashing the fragile glass as his body flew out the window and plunged to the ground in front of the smithery. He rolled on the hard dirt to take the force from his drop before racing at full speed in the direction of town.

[StormWolf]

Sabur took a deep breath when he saw the boy's eyes shoot open as air filled the boy's lungs. He was alive, if not a little battered, but he would heal. The Blademaster stood slowly, keeping his head down as to hide his face from onlookers and bystanders. He drew his Gleeman cloak over himself, hiding as much of his body as he could manage.

“My Grandfather! Did you save my grandfather?" Houz cried at Sabur, making the ancient Blademaster close his eyes in a heart wrenching pain. He could not find the proper words at the moment, so he just shook his head, remaining silent for a time until the words came to him.

"When I got to you, your grandfather was already burnt to a husk... I could smell his blood boiling. You only had minor burns. I am sorry, my boy... I am not the Great One." Sabur walked over to his stave and pulled the heavy walking stick out of the mud. Sabur turned to walk away, only to see the boots of three Grandian soldiers blocking his path.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, you seem to be standing in my way." Sabur said in a flat and level tone, solid as stone and colder than ice, but it sounded like Thom once again. The trio of soldiers refused to move. One put his hand on Sabur's chest and gave the man a push.

"You move well for an old man, Gleeman. What is your secret? Some Elixir of life, I assume? Possibly you got your hand on a drug?" another soldier pushed Sabur by the shoulder. The Blademaster took one step back, and the soldiers advanced, taking advantage of the opening they found.

"Oh, 'tis no secret sir. I just eat my vegetables." Sabur retorted with a dangerous smirk showing below the hood that covered most of his face. Two of the soldiers laughed, while the one in the front of their lazy formation gave Sabur another forceful push. Sabur took another step back.

"Do you think us stupid, old man?" the leader growled. It was now Sabur's turn to laugh.

"That depends, child. Do you want to hear the truth?" the guards drew steel, while the leader brought his fist in to the side of Sabur's face. The three soldiers had the tips of their swords trained on the cloaked figure before them.

"Lay that hand on me again, and you will never be able to move again..." the man they thought was Thom said, but his voice was much more threatening now. It was colder and sharper, more menacing and deadly. Still, it was only an old man.

"Bah! You talk tough for an old, blind, drunk!" the leader threw back Sabur's hood, revealing his face to those observing the ordeal. Sabur felt the man's thumb brush his ear when the hood was yanked back. With a dull hum and a crack Sabur's stave connected with the leader in the groin, sending the man down to his knees before the Blademaster's knee smashed into his nose.

The two other soldiers remained stunned for a moment, a moment that made all the difference. The butt of Sabur's stave connected with the second soldier's eyeball, the force of the blow rattling his brain and sending him down like a sack of flour.

Sabur tilted his stave up, a dull thud sounding as the final soldier's blade glanced off of the hardened ironwood stave. Sabur countered with a powerful and precise strike to the man's knee caps, which caused them to snap and bend the wrong way before he fell in a heap of agony.

The leader had finally come to and started to try and regain his feet. Sabur denied him the pleasure of walking ever again and brought the stave down hard on the base of the man's neck, which severed his spine, making him paralyzed from the neck down.

"I told you that would happen if you laid a hand on me again..." Sabur spoke down at the man who was screaming in horror at the coldness that settled into his dead limbs.

[Yoruyonaka]

Lilith watched as the shimmering imaged of Thom entered the flames. For only a moment, she thought she could see long white-silver hair. Her blue eyes glittered with curiosity, but she knew there was a time and place for that. She was about to follow when one of the soldiers put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back.

"Miss, best not be thinking of entering that," He said still with a hand on her shoulder.

"Shouldn't you be helping the others with putting out the fires," Lilith replied narrowing her eyes and shaking his hand off.

"They seem to be doing okay, now, you seem new," He smirked eying her up. "Not everyday we get such a lovely woman, particularly a lovely Fryn woman."

With one swift move, Lilith had a dagger at his throat. Not any dagger either, but her family's heirloom from generations. And there wasn't just one blade either, though this was the biggest one. Her blue eyes glared down in his surprised one's as he reached for his sword.

"Now why don't you go get a bucket, fill it with water, and do some good around here," She said with the wind rustling around her. "Oh and think twice before you try to draw your sword with me."

The soldier backed away and ran to the others. Putting the hood back on, Lilith sniffed the air. Something wasn't right about the fire. She also noticed two others who just arrived. A rather tall man and short one. Just as she planned on helping the old man, he crashed through the window with the teenager who yelled for help earlier. He was now hooded which had darkness covering his face. However, Lilith could see the yellows that met hers as he looked up from the ground. He put the boy down and started to shake him awake.

Lilith glided to the two and observed the boy's hands. "Very brave of you to risk your hands for your grandfather," She told Houz. "I present my condolences, although I am only a stranger here. I can heal your hands, if you will."

Taking a deep breath, Lilith blew gently on his bloody and burned hands. A the wind caused the wounds to blow away. Thom had stood and started walking away when three soldiers walked in his path. Fools, she thought as she pulled the boy up. One of the soldiers attacked and Thom easily brought him down along with the others. The leader felt the harsh punishment of a severed spine. Smiling, Lilith walked towards the now revealed immortal. Her luck didn't end there, for the fire seemed to magically die out. Sniffing out magic, she eyed the short one of the two from earlier. Lilith brought her gaze back to the immortal.

"The moon is reflects itself with is hair, for he runs like night," Lilith spoke with a rhythmic sound. "His blade his is his fang, a guardian under his will. None shall pierce his hide, for he wills himself indestructible. The warrior Sabur Wolfborn, the keeper of Justice."

She smiled playfully.

"I only expected as much from yourself," She took one of her blades from her sleeve and flipped it in the air. "Its a pleasure to finally have your true acquaintance."

[TheDashingRogue]

"Hey, look over there Terry, who's 'at?"

"Annover one of them adventurer types I imagine"

The two guards, equals in lack of hygiene and manners, eyed the well-dressed individual as he strode merrily towards the foreboding cullis gateway. The men looked at one another and grinned, turning back to the visitor with a dumb grin on their faces. The larger of the two guards began to pick his nose.

"Oi, civilian..." the thin guard oozed "Whatchoo want 'ere then anyways?"

"Ah my good man! I must say I am rather impressed by the inquisitive and vigilant nature of this town's constabulary. Fear not, for I have no wish to bring ill upon you or your charges." the young man smiled.

"I fink he's tryin'a be funny, Terry."

"We don't like that do we John?"

"No we don't Terry."

The guards walked towards the young man with a menacing look on their faces. Backing away, the young man found himself with his back against a wooden fence. A bead of sweat began to fall slowly down his forehead.

"Now now gentleman, there's no need for this to get out of hand. Perhaps I could be as bold as to make to you a... wager of sorts?" he pleaded with raised hands. The guards stopped.

"What kind of wager?"

"Yeeaah, wot kind'a wager?"

"Well..." the young man composed himself "now, it would be correct to assume that refined and civilised men such as yourselves are aware of the game Crosskeys and its rules, yes?"

The two men looked at one another in bemusement.

"What am I saying, of course you've played Crosskeys before! Please do forgive my impertinence..."

The larger of the two guards turned to his comrade. "We dunno what dat is, do we Terry?"

"Shut it ya big sack of spuds." He faced the young man, his voice becoming more refined "We've played once of twice before, haven't we, John." he elbowed his partner in the ribs sharply.

"Oh, ow ow! Yeh 'course we 'av"

The young man grinned widely "Then I shall place a two to twenty wager on a second stage, half cross win by three quarters. Your fold."

The two men stared at one another again.

"Now this will be the area of play, John is it? Yes... you take position there facing the road. That's good, cross your legs now. And you Terry, you cover your own eyes with John's left hand. Right, wonderful. Now I'll set up the six weave play and we'll begin when I give the signal." The young man stared at his opponents, tangled helplessly facing the wrong direction and blind to his actions. Smiling, the man picked up his bag and walked through the now unguarded gates.

"Psst, Terry..." the large guard whispered "wossa signal meant to be again?"

[Cheshire]

"Stop right there!" a few guards announced as they saw the dark skinned woman launch herself from a window. They were going to move to investigate the scuffle that had occurred with their friends, but they had heard rumors hat the infamous Banshee was at the scene. There was some flame on her clothes, which she patted off.

"Heh... slow day... took them long enough." She stood up, laughing loudly. She had currently two daggers on her hips and a short sword strapped to each thigh, her rifle on her back. When she stood tall, she was an imposing woman.

A grin crossed her face as all of this registered to the guards, who all took a few steps back. She stepped forward to match... a hand reached to her back, drawing her rifle and aiming it at one of the guard's faces.

"DROP IT!"

With roaring laughter, she smiled...

"You really think you're fast enough..."

One took a step forward and a loud bang sounded, as the guard hit the ground. The others charged forward. Maria hopped back, replacing the rifle and drawing the short swords, holding them in preparation for an attack. The guards, edged forward cautiously now, knowing what this woman was capable of.

One stepped forward and found himself danced around by the woman, who carved through him like a warm knife through butter. The other was about to charge when a blast of fire came from the side. Leon ran up to her, Simon with him, each standing by one of her sides as some guards rushed in as backup.

"Maria, I love you like family, but quite frankly this is why we can't have nice things." Simon quipped, grinning, getting ready to defend himself.

[Housemaster]

Town of Khent; Grandian Base of Operations

“Ey, Sergeant…”

A scruffy looking man acknowledged the younger man, “Yes Private?”

The young man was looking out the window overlooking the town of Khent. The obvious sight was apparent, and indeed questionable. “There appears to be a fire in the Business sector.” The young man stated, “Heavy smoke is coming from that direction over there!”

The sergeant peered out the window, “Hmmm, excellent observation Private, although a bit strange…” the sergeant took a step back and gathered his thoughts. “We have officers and plenty of guards in the business sector, yet no calls reporting a fire… they know we have fire engines for such occasions.” The sergeant attempted to piece together the situation, then came to a decision, “Send all available squads down to check up on them, I’ll join you after I notify the officers of the situation.”

“Yes sergeant!” the young man answered and immediately headed to the barracks. Grandian soldiers were now making their advance towards the burned tailor shop.

Town of Khent; Business sector

“HEY!” A Grandian officer yelled loudly at Sabur, “What’s the meaning of this!” the officer shouted.

Sabur had just successfully knocked out and disabled three Grandian soldiers. It was evidentially obvious to whoever was watching that the soldiers started the confrontation, but obviously did not benefit out of the ordeal.

“You’re under arrest for assaulting Grandian soldiers and causing social unrest!” one of the officers yelled, looking a bit frightened himself while keeping a safe distance from Sabur.

Houz stood up, hands still marked from the burns, but feeling much better after Lilith healed them. The young man’s blood was boiling, “Are you that thick?” he shouted back at the officers, “Can’t you see that your soldiers attacked him first!? This man saved my life, he deserves a goddamn reward!” his voice was cracking, still emotionally exhausted from losing his home and grandfather.

“You have no right to complain!” the officer replied, which caught Houz off guard, “None of this would have happened if you only joined th-“ the officer caught his tongue, but it was too late.

The officers started the fire, a last ditch effort so Houz would have no choice but to join the military. Evidentially they did not realise there were other people in the building, but their lack of caution shows no excuse or remorse for their actions. This sudden realisation made Houz sick to his stomach, the knowledge that his grandfather was burned to death because of his refusal to enlist in the military awoke a never before seen fury inside the young man.

“Y… you bastard…” Houz growled in a complete new tone of voice, “You’ll… you’ll pay.”

Sabin and Opiecan were carefully observing everything from the sidelines. Apart from putting out the fire, they remained out of mind and simply appeared to be spectators. However, the look Sabin gave to Opiecan showed his concern, and Opiecan nodded his head to approve whatever actions they planned beforehand.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Houz roared, and charged towards the officer who drew his sword.

As Houz charged towards the officer, he was suddenly unable to move as he found Sabin behind him holding him back. “Argh! Leggo! You stay out of this!” Houz yelled as he attempted to break free from Sabin’s grasp, but proved too weak compared to the large man.

The two officers laughed, “Little boy is meddling in things he knows nothing about… I’ll see that you’re properly punished.” The officer brought his attention to Sabin, “And you’ll be rewarded for capturing this criminal.”

Sabin had a wicked grin on his face, “This boy… is now the least of your troubles…”

The officers ceased laughing, and gave Sabin a confused look. “I’m sorry… I’m not sure if I like your tone… perhaps I misheard you, repeat what you said!” one of the officers ordered.

“He said the boy was the least of your troubles…” Opiecan answered, and the cloaked figure was now advancing towards the officers.

The two officers brought their attention to Opiecan, his short figure standing boldly in front of the officers.

One officer laughed, “Is this the goddamn circus? Are all of you mad?” he jeered, clearly unthreatened by Opiecan’s small stature. Ignoring the officer’s insults, Opiecan raised his hand to unbutton the neckpiece of his cloak. Once undone, the cloak slowly fell backwards to the ground, revealing Opiecan’s figure.

The elemental’s skin was a dark silver colour, and was dense like thick wild wood. His eyes were glaring with a piercing silver aura with multiple colours occasionally flickering within their depths. Anyone with an education on creatures in Aldune would quickly realise that Opiecan is the Zodiark of Uye Wood, argueably the most powerful magical creature on the continent.

“th..this must be some sort of trick!” The officer muttered as he and the other Grandian soldiers backed away.

“Now now…” Opiecan whispered, “You’re staying put.”

The two officers attempted to back away, but soon found that their feet were now encased with solid rock, making them unable to escape. The other soldiers were somewhat confused, since most did not know of the Zodiark’s existence… until now.

“I’ll deal with your men later…” the elemental stated as the remaining soldiers were now rendered immobile in a hard crystallized shell. “Lets have a little chat…” one of the officers attempted to open his mouth in protest, “Not you, you’re annoying…” Opiecan silenced the officer, who became shocked that his voice was no longer available.

The remaining officer was sweating, “You’re mad… you know that! Going up against the strongest empire in the world… you’ll nev- AUGH!” The officer jolted in pain as Opiecan laid his hand on the officer’s chest.

“How admirable… loyal to the very end. There’s no dog like a loyal dog.” Opiecan sighed, “but unfortunately I’m uninterested in your Grandian propaganda speeches you officers love to make… so forgive me if I wish to interrupt you.” The elemental took his palm away from the officer, who gasped for air and clutched his chest in pain. “Now… I wish to ask you a few questions. Now tell me the truth, did you set fire to the building behind me?”

The officer grunted, “Of course not you pig!” and spat at Opiecan, however the spit quickly changed direction and smacked the officer in his own face.

“Oops…” the elemental sighed and placed his hand once again on the officer’s chest, jolting him once again.

“AAAGH!” the officer breathed heavily, “I answered your question! What more do you want!” he yelled

“I said for you to tell the truth… your body heat rose significantly when you answered my question. You do not want to find out what happens to liars..”

“Okay! Okay!” the officer gasped for air once again, taking a moment to regain his breath. “Yes… I did it!” he answered, “I set fire to the building… but I didn’t know there were people inside!”

“Yet you took no time to check… pitiful excuse.” Opiecan took a few steps back, “A man died in that building. Being burned alive is very… very, unpleasant. Shall I enlighten you to how it feels?”

The officer shook his head, “No… please don’t!” he pleaded to the elemental.

Opiecan’s eyes turned red, glaring at the officer who was still pleading for his release. Suddenly, the officer stopped talking, and began sweating bullets. Then without warning he was covered in flames. The officer’s cries of anguish filled the streets, shouting for Opiecan to stop. The cries for mercy fell of deaf ears as the flames continued to consume the officer’s skin. After about 40 seconds of having his skin lit on fire, the fire disappeared. Surprisingly, the officer remained unharmed, but still shocked and exhausted from the intense pain he had just experienced.

“What you just felt was the tip of the iceberg to what you just did to the man who lived in that building…” Opiecan whispered, “To continue your campaign for Grandia’s glory will mean you throw away your humanity… whatever little you have left.”

With a snap of the finger, all restraints on the officers and soldiers were released, except the one officer who was previously set aflame. “This is a message from the Ghosts of Grandia.” Opiecan started, “Your lives are spared, I’d leave this town and send the message to your fellow officers if I were you, as well as resign from your duties from the Grandian military.” The Grandian soldiers and officers began to back away, “If I see you’re still enlisted when next we meet, you’ll die… very, very, painfully…”

The other men retreated, and left their fellow officer who remained stuck in the ground. “What about me?” the officer pleaded, “I told you the truth, I suffered your torture! I’ll leave the military I swear!”

The elemental wrapped his cloak around his body once more. “Surely more soldiers will come. I need you to tell them what happened here…. After that you’re free to go.”

Right on cue, the streets began to rumble. Groups of soldiers began to advance towards the scene of the crime. It was a force of around 50 soldiers, and two light mobile artillery units rumbled behind the infantry. It was a sizeable force, and it seemed like overkill.

The soldiers halted in front of the burnt shop, then the sergeant stepped forward.

“What the heck happened here?” he asked out loud. Hoping someone would answer.

“I know!” the officer called out, still sweating from his previous ordeal.

“Sir!” the sergeant replied, “You look awful! And your men? Injured?” the sergeant seemed confused. “And who started this fire?”

Opiecan waited in the background for the officer to confess his deed. The officer breathed heavily, looking at the large force that was now assembled ready for command. Lifting his shaking hand, he pointed to Opiecan, “He did it!” the officer shouted, “KILL HIM!”

[Atrum Daemon]

Veral arrived back at the tavern and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his bag was still by his seat and had not been picked through. He paid for his drinks and headed for the door, aiming to get out and find an out of the way place to get a room in. Veral paused mid-step as he approached the seen of the now doused fire and witnessed what Opiecan did to the soldiers. He watched with mild interest and fascination (as one who did not perform magic himself, Veral was always interested to see it in action) until he heard and noticed the approaching soldiers and quickly ducked into a side ally. Veral did not want to get involved, but had a feeling he would somehow.

‘If I’m going to get involved,’ he thought, ‘might as well be with the face people recognize.’

Making sure he was secluded, Veral opened the pack and quickly stripped down and began pulling on the armor. As he brought out the helm, he touched it to his forehead and said a small prayer before securing it on his head. After putting his other clothes into the pack, he hid it safely in the alley and picked up his shield, his sword still sheathed on his back.

***

The sound of armor shifting slightly gradually got louder as a figure came to a halt near Sabur. The figure was fully protected in a suit of silver armor and whistled lowly at the sight of all the soldiers. “Seems I arrived at an interesting moment,” spoke The Silver Knight to no one in particular.

When one of the soldiers shouted and pointed to a person unknown to him, The Silver Knight cocked his head slightly with even more interest. He waited to see what would happen next, very much interested at the events unfolding.

[StormWolf]

Sabur let go of his stave, letting the trusty piece of ironwood fall to the ground. A skirmish had erupted around him, but he remained focused on the mass of Grandian troops that were slowly advancing towards them. The Blademaster walked over to one of the soldiers he had incapacitated and picked one of the swords off of the ground, wiping the blade clean on the soldier's cloak. Sabur stood, twirling the blade in tight and fluid figure-eights in front of him, flipping the blade in the air, twirling, and catching the sword in the opposite hand.

"Blood and Ashes, what ever happened to quality steel?" Sabur mused as he got a feel for the weapon. It was a quarter-gram heavy on the back end and the blade had nicks and rust marking the edges. Unacceptable. Sabur spied Opecian's little escapade out of the corner of his eye, chuckling as the Grandian scampered away with his metaphoricle tail tucked betwix his trembling legs.

"You surely do have a way with people, my little elemental friend..." Sabur mused as he walked from one side of the street to another, drawing a line in the mud with the tip of the sub-par blade.

"I knew there was a reason I got out of bed this morning... I just didn't expect it would be this.... obvious." Sabur looked over his shoulder at Houz and the brutish young man that was holding him, Opecian, Lilith, and the Silver Knight.

"So much fame in one place, as well." Sabur chuckled. Lilith stepped forward, catching Sabur's golden eyes. The way she walked; graceful like a cat, how she placed one foot in front of the other and how her hips rocked with her steps. Sabur's heart rate rose.

"I only expected as much from yourself," She took one of her blades from her sleeve and flipped it in the air. "Its a pleasure to finally have your true acquaintance." Lilith's silk-soft voice wafted over his ears, making Sabur's lips curl in to a grin.

"Likewise, Lilith." he turned to look back at the advancing Grandian line. "I would love to talk, but it wil have to wait until a better time." Sabur stuck the tip of the blade in to the earth as he stood a few paces behind the line he had drawn in to the mud. The Blademaster did not budge, he just looked each Grandian in the front of the formation in the eye.

[Yoruyonaka]

Lilith Villetta watched the gaze of Sabur's golden eyes. His powerful broad figure made her shiver in his presence. She must seem peculiar to him, being a Fryn with light skin, but then again he must already know its ancient royal blood. These thoughts would have to wait. They had company. The soldiers made a line in front of the group. The one who accused the elemental backed up behind the Grandian Sergeant. He grinned deviously now for the Grandians would take his side, and this did not sit well with Lilith.

She stepped forward next to Sabur. Her blue eyes focused on the soldiers.

"Course you can believe that dog of yours," the Fryn said raising her voice. "Or, you might want to consider why a couple of wanderers would have any bloody desire to burn a random tailor shop? Steal the money maybe, but not completely burn the place down."

The sergeant peered at the soldier who obviously lied, but turned to Lilith frowning. "What proof do you have that you didn't do this?" He raised a hand turning to his men. "Arrest these strangers for questioning. If any fight back, kill them. The woman might be of use, make sure she lives."

The men roared and drew their swords. A few archers aimed their bows at us, though they didn't appear that good.

"Not how I wanted our meeting to first start," Lilith grinned at Sabur. "They appear to be giving us no choice then. How about I take out the archers?"

Without another word, she through the hood that covered her off to reveal her leather outfit which hugged her body showing of her nice curves. Though that wasn't the most interesting part. Fryn knives covered her legs, shoulders, and arms. She lifted her right hand which already had a special knife her family called Villetta's whisper. Not giving the soldiers time to be surprised, Lilith flung one of her knives with unbelievable accuracy and hit the lying soldier square in the head. Flicking her right hand up, the wind dislodged the blade and glided it back in her hand.

"Lets see what you idiots got," Lilith raised her hands that now carried knives. "That was barely anything for me."

[TheDashingRogue]

Marco approached the line of guards with bows raised, oblivious to the situation ahead. He had walked towards them with his mind buried in his writings and verses describing the town in all of its glumness. Reaching the line he spoke to the back of one of the archers; "Excuse me my good man, where might a weary traveller find the public house?", directing his query at one of the men with a tap of the shoulder.

The man straightened sharply, lowering his bow. Turning slowly he stared blankly at Marco for a short moment before collapsing forwards onto the bard. He let out a cry of shock as the body knocked him to the ground and pinned him down. Squarely in the middle of the guard's forehead appeared a thin cut, through which blood had began to drip.

Marco struggled for several moments at the horror that had befallen him. "Help me! Someone help!" he tried to say, but all that had come were a series of wheezes and splutters. The wind completely knocked out of him by the fall.

[Housemaster]

Houz, still struggling to release himself from Sabin’s grip watched as this strange being Opiecan obtained information from the Grandian officer. Witnessing such magical power placed Houz in a state of awe, unsure if what he’s witnessing is real or illusion. However, once Opiecan set fire to the officer, Houz became horrified. He saw his grandfather burn alive, he would never wish such a fate to anyone else… even if it was the one responsible for his Grandfather’s death.

“S… stop it!” Houz croaked, his voice cracked and dry.

Opiecan could not hear his plea, but Sabin did. The large man looked at his elemental partner with concern, and within a few seconds Opiecan stopped the fire, and revealed that the officer was fine.

Even if this was the man responsible, Houz felt relieved. He also felt less pressure on his arms as Sabin released Houz from his grip. The young man stood still for a second, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Obviously, it didn’t work since Houz swung around to punch Sabin in the face. Due to the difference in size, Houz was only able to reach Sabin’s chest, and even still Sabin simply caught Houz’s fist as if it were child’s play.

“I admire your will to fight…” Sabin whispered to Houz, “But I’m on your side kid!”

Houz said nothing, but simply stepped away in silence.

Then the soldiers came…

The sword that the officer dropped earlier was near Houz’s legs. In reaction to the new threat, Houz quickly picked up the sword and held it in front of him. He was clearly inexperienced, but he was ready to fight regardless. Sabin stood his ground, facing the large group of soldiers, towering over all of them. Opiecan simply remained silent, and kept his hood on.

Then the officer accused Opiecan of setting the building on fire. This infuriated Houz.

“You bastard!” Houz yelled, “This was my home! You did this because I refused to join your stupid army!” He then pointed his sword at the officer, “And you KILLED my grandfather!”

Houz’ testimony fell on deaf ears, as the soldiers already began confronting other spectators, one in particular who skilfully threw a knife in a soldier’s head. Battle seemed to be the only option now, especially for the officer who threw away his chance to tell the truth.

Sabin turned to Opiecan. “Sorry if I’m interrupting… but we could use your help!”

The elemental turned to Sabin, “I’ll simply watch for now. I wish to see how these simple townfolk defend themselves... I sense a curious amount of immortals, rare to see one, let alone this many.”

Sabin blinked, “Immortals?” he looked at the company that assembled in front of the burnt shop. “All three of them?”

Opiecan nodded his head then sat down. Sabin shook his head, “I’m joining in regardless if you want to or not.” The large man left the elemental behind and joined the line of immortals, standing beside the one wearing the heavy silver armour.

“The shit has officially hit the fan.” Sabin said with a grin, “It’s been awhile since I stretched my legs.” The large man slid into his stance, arms stretched out and ready to fight.

“I’m fighting too!” Houz said, standing beside Sabin, his untrained wobbling arms clutching the officer’s sword.

Sabin looked down at Houz, then took a quick glance to Opiecan. The resting elemental nodded his head, signalling some sort of message to Sabin that gave the large man comfort. “Alright kid…” he said, “But don’t get yourself killed.”

The sergeant saw his soldier fall when a knife struck him in the head, strangely the soldier fell on top of a passer-by who seemed to be oblivious to the surrounding situation.

“Alright men… apprehend these criminals! Try to capture them alive, but kill them if they give you too much trouble.”

The soldiers were now off the leash, they charged towards the assembled company in front of the tailor shop. Unsurprisingly, most seemed to avoid Sabin due to his size, in the hopes that someone else would deal with the large man. Regardless, Sabin switched from defensive stance to offensive, and quickly advanced towards three soldiers. The soldiers raised their weapons to attack the large man, but speed and strength were on Sabin’s side as he quickly delivered three blows in all of their midsections. A soldier came from behind ready to strike with his sword, but Sabin quickly responded and wrapped his leg around the blade preventing it from moving any further. He then flexed his leg muscles and snapped the sword in pieces, in quick position to give a powerful kick to his attacker’s chest sending him flying in the opposite direction.

Houz raised his sword, two soldiers were approaching him. Being the weakest of the group the soldiers were much less likely to attack with the intention of killing him, however the same could not be said for Houz. One soldier swung his sword to swipe Houz’s legs. Houz stepped back to avoid the attack, but the blade managed to graze his leg. Houz ignored the pain and wildly swung his sword in retaliation at the soldier’s face. The soldier blocked the attack, sending Houz off balance. The second soldier tackled Houz in attempt to pin him to the ground, however in the rumble Houz managed to get a lucky kick in the soldier’s jaw which gave Houz enough time to return to his feet.

Sabin heard the sound of struggle on the ground, and spotted Marco who was unfortunately pinned underneath a soldier. Sabin ducked an attack from another soldier and jabbed him in the ribs, unfortunately breaking them. The large man slid to where Marco was pinned and lifted the limp soldier off the fallen bard. With his other hand he grabbed Marco’s arm and lifted him to his feet.

“Not exactly the… hey!” Sabin felt another soldier trying to jump on his back, “I’m trying to have a conversation!” The large man threw the soldier from his back and launched him towards another group of soldiers knocking everyone over.

“As I was saying… not exactly the best time to be in the business district. Currently closed due to extreme douchebaggery!” Sabin gave Marco a nod, then returned to the fray sending soldiers flying left and right.

[That_Guy]

Silvio rolled to take the impact of falling two full stories before jumping lightly to his feet, pausing momentarily to look back at the Grandian soldiers scrambling to persue him. He swore audibly in his gruff accent before breaking into a full sprint for town, his feet barely scratching the dirt path as he carried his light body down the slight hill. By the time he had reached the outskirts of town, he had put a large gap between him and the group of meaty soldiers now thundering like a herd of beasts down the dirt path. However, Silvio was still on edge, he knew that more Grandian soldiers would join the chase, and no matter how fast he could run the town of Khent would be the last thing he saw. Silvio took off at full speed for the center of town, which was filled with countless hiding spots and dark alleys he knew well. If he could make it there, he could at least stand a chance of survivng the Grandian's search for him.

Silvio's Dijhi legs carried him easily in the narrow alleyways and over countless hurdles. In his flight he did not encounter one Grandian soldier, but still he ran. His heart thudded in his chest, yet he was not fatigued. He felt as if he couldn't breath enough oxygen, though his body did not cry for air. His mind thought of his doom and death, yet he was not captured. All this he felt due to the fact that the day he had been dreading all his life was finally upon him. The single day he had tried to avoid all of his life was finally here, and he was scared. He knew becoming a soldier would be the death of him, and the military life was a sentence of daily pain and torture as you starved, fought, labored, and bled for land. Land everybody owned, the land that everybody was entitled to and inherited, yet nobody could claim.

Finally, Silvio crashed through a rotting doorway to a small abandoned house near the church tower. Inside he crawled into the dusty attic illuminated by a few holed in the roof and a shattered circular window. From this window Silvio could survey most of the market district, and more importantly the streets below him. His brow lowered in question when he saw tendrils of smoke rising mournfully from another part of Khent. His attention was shifted as he heard shouts from the street below.

He tried to make himself as small as possible when he spotted the big Grandians who had threatened him earlier, obviously searching for him. Their faces were bright red and one stopped to gulp down the remnants of his water bag with ravenous thirst. It is clear that they were no match for Silvio's stamina, however, all Silvio could think about was putting miles of ground between himself and Khent. And for that matter Grandians.

After what seemed like days, the exhausted soldiers moved away from Silvio's hiding spot, losing hope of finding the Dijhi with every heavy step. Silvio breathed a sigh of relief before crawling away from his hiding spot. As he was in the process of exiting the moldy attic, his ears were assulted by the thunderous pangs of the church bell. Shouting from the streets outside quickly followed.

Silvio's heart lept into his throat, There's no way they could have seen me! his mind screamed in desperation.

However, Silvio was so caught up thinking he was found that he forgot to pay attention to the distressed call of the church bell. The bell was signaling the guards, alerting them to the fact that there was major trouble. The bell struck three times in quick succession, which Silvio in his muddled mind assumed meant that every Grandian soldier within earshot was now aware of Silvio's little act of rebellion.

Within seconds Silvio was once again fleeing for his life, hurtling down the alleys and streets, trying to lose the army of Grandian's his mind created behind him. Unknowingly, his haphazard course was leading him right to the epicenter of the chaos that had started the alarm in the first place; the burning tailor shop. He turned into a network of alleyways that seemed to be filled with swirling smoke. He covered his mouth to protect his lungs from the unhealthy air that enveloped him in the cover of artificial night. The smoke was so thick that he could barely avoid the piles of trash and debris that covered the alleys, which forced him to head for the nearest exit, which came in the form of rays of light penetrating the inky smoke.

With a gasp for fresh air Silvio burst from the smoking alleys, unaware what was laid before him. Almost instantly he collided with a thick and heavy figure clad in armor. With a grunt of shock Silvio fell to the ground, looking up at the face of a bewildered Grandian soldier.

[TheDashingRogue]

Marco was still fairly dazed from his previous ordeal, and worse still from his righting at the hands of the stranger, the sudden movement making his head spin.

"Th-thank you kind s-sir..." he said as he lowered his hat, unsteadily moving about on his feet "...if I could just s-stop to get your na-..." he paused, rising from his slight bow Marco realised that the man had gone, launching himself back into the fray. He watched as his saviour disappeared amongst a group of guards, wide eyed and amazed. From somewhere behind Marco, a guard was charging towards the Bard with a halberd, intent on running him through like a sizzled pig. My book... thought the Bard as he noticed his tombe lying on the ground. Kneeling to pick up his book, he narrowley avoided the deadly charge. Missing its target, the halber imbedded itself into the earth, the haft of the weapon striking the charging guard in the chin and knocking him out cold.

Marco dusted the dirt off of the back of the book and smiled; "Much better" he said to himself with a grin. Turning around, the young man noticed the unconscious guard on the floor, a look of horror developing on his face. "By Abora himself man! Are you alright!?" he exclaimed, leaning down by the man and checking his breathing "I shall fetch you some water right away..." he cried as he ran off towards a nearby drinking trough. Assuming that the guards were partaking in some kind of manouvres practice or attending to a far greater problem than the wounded man, Marco paid them little attention as he set off towards the pails of water...

[Cheshire]

Maria grinned as the last of the guards that she, Leon and Simon had gotten into a fight with charged her, in a desperate move. She simply stepped to the side, left her foot out, grabbed him, threw him to the ground, and finished him with a swift blow. She then stood up and laughed a bit, looking around and realizing that quite a bit had begun to occur nearby. With a bit of a smile, she ran towards the commotion, raising her rifle when she got close enough and taking out the first soldier she saw before switching her knives and charging into the fray, Simon and Leon reluctantly following.

Maria yelled to the group fighting the soldiers, "You boys need a little help!?" while Simon and Leon merely muttered something about her enjoying this a little too much...

[StormWolf]

So the oppressors wished to push with an attack against crudely armed civilians. Grandia had lost the honor of Sabur's time and had become a pathetic shell of itself, filled with corruption and misery. It put fire in the Blademaster's blood, to see his country come so low as to extortion and murder. Yes, there had been plenty of it behind closed political doors, but that was politics. Civilians did not have to suffer the pains of the nobility. The people are meant to be provided for like children, not abused and used like beasts of burden!

Sabur brought the blade of the shabby soldier's sword up, the flat of the blade inches from his nose, tip pointing to the heavens. Sabur bowed his head, touching his pale skin to the cold metal,

"Great Creator, Lord of all, grant me that my hands be steady, my aim be true, and my feet swift. And should the worst come to pass, grant me forgiveness." the Blademaster muttered with his eyes closed, the prayer he was taught to intone if he intended to take life.

Sabur opened his eyes to see Grandian soldiers charging at him, eyes filled with conviction and puritanical anger. These men wished to Dance the Blades with the Legendary Blademaster and make a name for themselves. Such a pitiful waste of life. Sabur was not going to enjoy this. Once the soldiers passed the line, Sabur counter-charged. He did not "fight" like the savages of today. He danced. Each movement graceful and fluid, the blade becoming and extension of his arm, a flickering bolt of silver that flared in the sun. Iron bit through flesh, severing tendons and piercing organs, lacerating arteries that coated the blade in red. Even when the first grouping of soldiers fell in the span of a couple heartbeats, Sabur did not stop moving. His momentum kept him going with a minimal exertion of energy.

More soldiers came at him, and Sabur continued to move with the grace of a dancer and the deadliness of a true blademaster. Heads fell from shoulders, one unfortunate soul suffered the unfortunate end of Sabur's blade slashing across the soldier's groin, sending him to the grave with no pride and no blood as it spurted from his carauted artery. Sabur threw a high kick, the steel toe of his boot catching the opponent under the chin, exposing his midsection, which had two feet of the longsword buried in it a second later. Sabur's ears picked up the sound of armor shifing several paces behind him. He drew the blade out of his last victim and threw the longsword, which caught the would-be assassin in the chest.

There was the zip of an arrow after the twang of a bowstring. Sabur brushed his hand in an arch, feeling the studded back of his gloved hand hit the wooden arrow shaft. Sabur twirled the arrow over his hand and held it like a knife, spinning on his heel to drive the tip through the chin of another oncoming attacker, the broad iron head of the arrow protruding from his mouth like a steel tongue. Sabur's victim had a look of horror in his eyes as his life bled out from his throat. Those panicked eyes looked Sabur in the face, seeing his killer wearing a mask of pity and regret.

"It did not have to be like this..." Sabur said before he let the young man fall to the blood-sodden mud. He grabbed the soldier's sword as soon as it left the young man's hands, twirling the blade in a series of figure eights as he turned to face the remainder of the Grandian line.

"I did not have to be like this!"