Fantasy Brenia's "Finest" Warriors

[Optimo]

Near the back of the kingdom stood a mighty castle. A fancy fortress which stood above all other buildings. Home to the mighty king of Brenia, Osgood Cleffort. Inside this castle was one of many private rooms where Osgood and his personal servant met. A thin, tattered slip of parchment laid on the table. The bright rays of the sun casted into the room from a window, illuminating the parchment. On the parchment seemed to be a list of names but at the very top was a message in bold lettering.

"Your majesty, are you absolutely sure you want to do this? This could cause casualties beyond rectification." Worry plagued the servant's words.

The king stared at the parchment in front of him. "I'm afraid this is the only choice I have. The lives of my people are at stake."

The servant turned to look out the window, taking in the pleasant warmth of the sun. "I suppose you're right, my lord." A desperate sigh escaped his lips.

"It'll all be okay, William. Have hope." The king's gaze dropped. "It's all we can have.

"I just wish it wasn't them. I wish our choices, our hope, wasn't going towards... them." William struggled to find his words.

"Oh, they're not all so bad." Osgood looked over the parchment again. "Err..."

A knock at the door got both of their attention. "M'lord, have you made your decision?"

"Ah, come in, Denise, my darling." Osgood finally took his gaze off the parchment and took in a deep breath. "I was just telling William here, our hands are pretty much tied and we need to have faith. A lot of faith." He looked over to Denise, an elegant young woman with soft features. "I have made my decision..."

The servant turned to face the king, prepared to hear his final verdict. In his shift of movement, the rays from the sun changed to solely highlight the bold lettering on the parchment. It read, EXILE OR EXECUTION

And then the choice was made clear, "...Summon them here at once!!"

 

[Shotgunpenguin]

Kaito Lightfoot


Kaito was a man with many regrets. He regretted letting the other children pressure him into stealing bread from the town baker when he was younger. Not only had he gotten caught, but the other children were all to eager to say that it was all his idea. He regretted not listening to his father when he warned him about staying away from the lake when he was by himself. After almost drowning and having to be saved by a passing townsfolk he had to slog his way home dripping wet. And he certainly regretted his asinine decision to try and impersonate a knight, despite the fact that he couldn't even chop wood for half an hour without feeling like his arms would fall off. Yes, he had many regrets. All of which quickly rushed through his head as the situation in front of him unfolded.

"You sure that this is a knight?" The lanky man asked, a pair of half-glasses rested on a crooked nose as he sized Kaito up. The man was a human of about sixty years, with a balding head and gray set of sideburns. He wore a long white shirt buttoned up to the neck underneath a green cloth vest. A pair of worn and patched gray trousers lead to simple cloth shoes, with a hardy looking walking stick laid across his lap. Across from him was a younger man around his twenties. A full head of brown hair atop his head, he wore a dirty brown tunic and a simple pair of gray pants with cloth shoes. Of note were the number of bruises dotting his face, some beginning to turn a sickly color due to time.

"I'm tellin' ya pa he's the real deal. He can help us with our bandit problem." Kaito jumped as the young man slapped his back, grateful for the half-mask that hid his tight lip. He had been returning back to the tavern where he had made his lodgings when the young man had practically thrown himself in front of Kuro. The man had begged for his assistance, telling him of how his families farm has been under siege by a group of bandits who demanded a cut of their food stores. He had attempted to stand up to them, but was brutally beaten before being told that they would return. Unable to turn him down he had been lead to the remote farm and introduced to the man's father. "Come on, tell em' what you told me."

Kaito cursed under his breath as the father stared so hard that he thought he'd burn a hole in the armor. "Ehem. Yes, I told your son that I would be more than able to help with your issue. How many bandits did you say there were?" Kaito's hand came to rest by his side on the pommel of his sword as the father sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"There's about six of em, one big un' and five smaller bandits." He paused and scratched his chin before continuing, "They mostly got axes and spears. Though the big un' had a sword on his back, and was wearin some leathers. Other's had squat though, no shields or nothin'."

Axes and spears then, no maces or hammers. "Good, it may hurt like hell and knock the wind out of me but they shouldn't be able to get through my armor. The leader may be a problem depending on the type of sword. Hopefully it is an arming sword and not a zweihander." Kaito's thoughts were quickly interrupted as a new voice called out from behind him. Turning, he saw a group of five men approaching from the entrance of the farm.

"Well well, look what we have here. Did you drag some poor sap into that pile of rust to try and scare us?" The man that spoke was a large human, easily over six feet with a head of ginger. He wore a leather jerkin and a pair of padded leather pants. The handle of a sword stuck out from behind his shoulder, a simple cross-guard and a poorly wrapped handle were all that he could see. Behind him were four other men of varying sizes, all human and all sporting taunting grins. "I'm going to have to increase the toll then for the inconvenience. Plus some extra from the new guy."

Scowling behind his mask Kaito slowly approached the bandits, hand tightly gripped on his pommel as he came just shy of striking distance with the leader. The bandit stood a good few inches above him, a fact that was not lost on him as he smiled lopsidedly down at him. "I shall give you one chance." Kaito spoke, keeping his voice level and eyes open for any surprise attacks. "Leave this farm alone and never return. If you do that I shall spare your lives. If you refuse consider your lives as forfeit." The ringing of steel being drawn from a scabbard accentuated his point, the well maintained blade glinting as it caught a stray beam of sunlight.

The bandits behind the leader tensed, looking a lot less sure of themselves than a few seconds ago. It was one thing to pick on a defenseless family, it was another to pick a fight with a heavily armored and armed fighter. It wasn't until a low chuckle was heard, the leader in front as he slightly turned his head to look at his underlings. "Hah! can you believe this guy? Does he rea-" His words were suddenly cut off, just like his sense of balance as the cross-guard of Kaito's sword impacted the side of his head. The leader dropped like a sack of potatoes, a small cloud of dust kicking up where he fell.

Kaito let out the breath that he had been holding in, straightening himself and raising the sword that was held by the lower half of the blade. The sneak attack was a success, a solid blow to the side of the head would concuss anyone lucky enough to be wearing a helmet. Against the bandit with no such protection however, it was a blow that was a guaranteed fight ender. "Listen up!" Kaito shouted, not allowing the remaining bandits proper time to take in the situation. "There are four other knights like me at the tavern. If any of them were here instead of me you would already be in the ground. Now get the hell out of here or I swear to god I will personally deliver your heads to the grave keeper!"

With their leader taken out of the fight, the remaining bandits shared a quick look between each other before two turned tail and ran. The other two quickly lunged forward, each grabbing an arm of their fallen leader and quickly dragging him after their fleeing companions. sheathing his sword, he turned and approached the son and his father. "Should have just killed em. They could come back after you leave." The father had gripped his cane in both hands, a fresh glare staring down the approaching knight.

"A knight should abstain from senseless bloodshed. Besides, as far as they know there's multiple other knights still in town. They'll be out of here by the time the leader wakes up." Letting out a high pitched whistle, the soft clop of hooves approached as a black horse rounded from the other side of the small farmhouse. Kuro let out a snort as he came to a stop by Kaito's side, the war horse shaking his head as he was mounted. "If anyone asks who saved you and your farm, let them know that Sir Draken Hichford was the one. Now, have a good day sirs."

A kick of his heels and the knight was off, his duty fulfilled he made his way back to the tavern. It was mid-evening by the time he arrived and stabled Kuro, the horse giving him an unimpressed snort as he dismounted. "Yeah yeah, It wasn't very knightly of me but what did you expect? It doesn't matter if I'm wearing armor there were five of them and one of me. They could have just pulled me down and I'd have been screwed." He received no response from the horse, it having found the pile of hay in front of it infinitely more interesting than the knight trying to justify himself to a horse. "Ahh what do you know. You're just a horse."

Exiting the stable, Kaito made his way to the warm glow of the tavern across the street. Pushing open the wooden doors, he was greeted by the hearty smell of a stew and various mugs of alcohol. A few of the patrons turned to see who had entered, but after catching sight of him they returned to their business. Approaching the front counter, a well dressed elf behind reached underneath it and produced a piece of parchment. "Ah, Sir Draken. This arrived for you this morning." The letter was sealed with a wax seal, although he could not place where it was from.

"Ahh, thank you my good sir. I shall be retiring to my room for the night." Kaito accepted the letter and made his way to the second floor of the tavern. Entering his room, he laid the letter on the small bedside table and began the process of taking off his armor. It took him a good ten minutes to completely strip himself of his armor, it being placed on a mannequin for ease of storage. Grabbing the letter off of the table, he broke the seal and was greeted with the large red lettering at the top of it. NOTICE OF REQUEST. THE INDIVIDUAL THAT THIS LETTER IS ADDRESSED TO IS COMMANDED TO REPORT BEFORE THE KING IMMEDIATELY. FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN EXILE FROM THE KINGDOM OR EXECUTION VIA HANGING

"Oh fuck me."​

 

[LieutyXII]

Tianah Wulf




Tianah sighed with the utmost contentment, leaning back into her rickety chair and relaxing her sore body. Her gloves were set aside on the table, making room for her mug of fresh ale that she had just set down. The woman had even kicked off her boots, obviously not caring that she didn't own the tavern she was currently staying in, but simply making herself at home. She was paying for room and board and damn it, she was gonna milk it all for what it was worth. Not that it was worth much anyways...

The place was called The Flowing Ale, a small bar-turned-tavern found in the heart of Brenia. Although it was small, it was pretty well known as a place for bounties and information to be traded, deals to be made, and people to make a name for themselves. Tianah had been frequenting the place for the past 3 years, keeping a low profile on herself, yet spreading her name far and wide. Well, it was more of a nickname that really got around. The Huntress. An impeccable hunter and survivor, capable of taking on any job and completing it with flying remarks. Her teeth were as sharp as a wolf's, her eyes steeled just like a blade. The Huntress knew no bounds and accepted any request without hesitation.

Tianah scoffed to herself, a small smirk making its way onto her face as she lifted her mug of ale to her lips. What a load of horse shit. The rumors surrounding her kept getting worse by the day, painting her out to be some cold merciless killer. Someone you told your kids about to keep them from staying out too late. Wulf rolled her eyes. It wasn't like that at all...okay maybe some of it was true. Yes, she tried to take on any job she could but shit, she had morals too, just like any other sane merc. She wasn't about to take a contract to slay the king with a smile on her face, nor was she going to take a job to clear the weeds from some rich nobles' garden. No, Tianah had a specific reservoir of jobs she was good at.

Recent years found herself focusing on bounty hunting. The pay was good, her skills made things go smooth and the damnable knights usually left her alone to do her work in peace. It helped that bounty hunting was what her father usually did, back when he was still alive. Needless to say, this was what she had most of her experience in. Tracking and even hunting were probably next. Sometimes when a noble wished to have a royal feast, they'd want anything from giant boar to brown bears (why? She had no clue). The hunting party then would seek her out on their own and hire her. Sometimes to track the beasts or simply to bring the carcass so they may lay claim on the deed of slaying the beast. She didn't care. If they wished to dig themselves further in their little holes, that would simply mean more work for her to keep up the lies.

Assassination was rare but not foreign. They were the ones that Tianah would research the most. As she said, she wasn't going to happily become the biggest criminal in the kingdom by killing some high-born. Instead, she would take small requests. A merchant manipulating the market in a poverty-stricken area? Sign her up. A corrupt mining chief, making his employees slave away while keeping all the benefits? Hell yeah. The last assassin contract she took was simply a bandit chief that was causing trouble on the west side of the kingdom. That's basically a glorified bounty mission, so she snatched that one up real quick.

"Lost in thought there, eh?" A gruff voice that oozed with smugness cut through her thoughts. Peeking her eyes over her mug, she relaxed slightly seeing who it was. "More like lost in the ale. Are you sure you don't put anything special in this Beranor?" She made a small effort to gaze her eye at the dark liquid swishing around in her cup, pretending to examine it.

The now identified Beranor grinned and laughed loudly, slapping his knee in an over-exaggeration of her question. He was a large man, standing at a full 6 foot 2. The wrinkles all over his body pointed out that he was probably near his mid 50's. His stomach was nearly falling out of his shirt for all to see, a clear beer belly from years of drinking. Usually, the man had a dark brown bushy beard, but it seems he decided to shave it recently and now it was simply down to stubble. The top of his head was as smooth as could be though, no hair had ever been there. Tianah sometimes joked that he kept that large beard to compensate for being bald. Guess she'd have to come up with something new for the man. He wore a simple cotton shirt, an apron to keep spills off his person, and a pair of work pants. The usual outfit for a bartender/owner.

Having fully settled down, Beranor wiped an invisible tear from his eye and looked back up to Tianah. "Come now girl, haha, you know I don't make enough money for that crap. I just serve the basics. The money flow comes from elsewhere, you know that." He winked and took a swig of his own drink, pulling up a seat next to her. Tianah chuckled a bit. Only Beranor would drink on the job and ignore all other responsibilities. He also made a fine point. Speaking of which...

"So what brings you over old man? Got a job for me? Or did you come over to enjoy my oh-so-wonderful company?" She leaned forward on the table, placing her chin in her hand. The man smirked once more, the look of business flashing in his eyes. A look that Tianah knew all too well. "Not exactly girlie." He set his mug down and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small sheet of paper. Wulf raised her eyebrow, now curious. "Got some information for ya. Well...so long as you got a little coin for me."

The Huntress mode came out, a more serious and business side instantly forming on Tianah as she sat up in her seat rigidly, staring at Beranor in the eyes. "That so? Why would I want this information Beranor? You aren't usually one to sell info so easily. You're even more so reluctant to be the one to initiate the transaction." The art of the deal was one. Beranor let his eyes wander of the sheet of paper, his eyes coming up to meet Tianah's every few seconds. "Right you are Huntress. Which should be reason enough for you to be interested, eh? It's a rare opportunity. But since you're such a good friend, I'll sweeten the deal and tell you. This info concerns you directly."

Now that was news. Beranor had gotten information on herself and was trying to sell it...to her? That must mean it dealt more so with either a potential enemy, a job, or both. She hummed in thought and let her hand fall down to her side, groping her coin pouch and estimating how much she had left. It had been about a week since her last job and she was, unfortunately, running low. The information could lead her to a new job, however, and Tianah was really debating on taking that gamble.

"Fine Beranor, how abou-" Her speech was cut off as the door to the tavern opened up, letting in the bright light from outside. Leaning back in her chair, she turned and looked at the newcomer. If they had been here before, they would have known to try and slip in quietly, not slam the door all the way open. A small and skinny elf stood there, slightly panting. She had on a tunic that was layered with Bernia's kingdom colors, along with a coat of arms on each sleeve. Strapped across her chest was a messenger bag. Looking up, the girl instantly seemed to get more nervous at all the rough and tough lot that usually made the tavern their home.

She slowly made her way towards the counter, skittishly apologizing to anyone who looked at her the wrong way. Tianah raised an eyebrow and looked back over at Beranor who simply sighed and mumbled something to himself. He stood up and walked over to the young elf and began chatting with her. Wulf was too far away from the main counter to hear what they were talking about, but she could see their expressions. The elvish girl was slowly calming down but...Beranor seemed to be getting more agitated. A few seconds later, Beranor actually pointed towards Tianah and waved the girl off.

The blonde woman came over and gave her a nervous smile along with a bow. "H-hello ma'am. I'm with the Kingdom, here to deliver a letter to Miss Tianah Wulf. T-that nice man over there said you were her?" She simply nodded her head, leaning back into her chair and crossing her arms with a small glare on her face. A messenger from the kingdom? That wasn't good. Hopefully, she hadn't finally been tied back to one of her assassinations.

The girl gulped and quickly reached into her bag, pulling out a letter. It was sealed with wax, still somewhat fresh. Reaching forward, she took the note and the woman was almost immediately rushing back out of the tavern. "Thank you! Have a wonderful day!" The elf yelled, sounding scared for her life. Tianah rolled her eyes at the skittish girl and looked back down at the note, her eyes widening to a pair of saucers. "What the..." This wasn't just a wax seal. This was the king's personal seal! What the hell had she done to garner the attention from Osgood!? Now she was the one gulping...

Before she could open it, Beranor came back over. Gone was his friendly smile as well as his greedy eyes. He scoffed and looked down at her, crossing his arms. "Got lucky girl. That information is now..." His eyes stared right at her note, causing her own eyes to drift back down to the seal. "...void. Outdated. Can't be selling broken info." He gave one more glare down at her and the door from where the elf girl ran off, obviously irritated at not being able to make a deal. Without another word, he walked off back to the counter. Tianah sighed, a frown appearing on her face. She had to remind herself that Beranor wasn't exactly a friend. More of a business partner. And if there was no business to be had, then there was no reason for him to show her a courtesy. His attitude still stung a little...

"Now then, what is this...?" She mumbled, opening the letter. The words EXILE OR EXECUTION in bright red at the top.

Reading through the contents, she stood up from her seat. Eyes were glued to her immediately. Slipping her gloves and boots back on, she strapped her crossbow to her back and slammed a bit of coin down on the table, paying for her drink. She walked out, a look of confidence, seriousness, and purpose on her face. Everyone watched and there was a collective thought going through everyone's head.

The Huntress had a job.​

 

[Dextra]

Feng Taki​

It began as a typical day for Feng. The sun was shining, the weather was pleasant, and Fang had just finished choking a man at arms to unconsciousness. The two had gotten into a heated debate about why armour was useless on a battlefield, and the heavily armoured man at arms was furious at the slander, but not everything was as it seemed.

Anyone who knew Feng knew that this was just one of the things he did to get some live training against his favourite target, someone in armour, in an attempt to gain more renown for his master's style of combat and himself more prowess. The fight was over in no time. The man at arms' weapon of choice was a zweihander, and while one hit would have sent Feng to his death, such a long, heavy weapon would have a difficult time hitting a nimble target, which is what Feng counted on.

As Feng approached, the man at arms' sword raised, indicating that he was going for a vertical slash, a common start for those who use the zweihander, but Feng didn't even flinch as he approached the sword's range. The sword was swung, and Feng's body simply moved to the left and watched as the blade passed by his face, almost as if he could read the man at arms' mind. This was the first of three steps in his strategy.

His second step was equally straightforward. Feng's left arm struck the centre of the blade as it passed by his face, the palm of his hand pushing the blade away from him. Simultaneously, Feng's right leg locked onto the man's left leg, pulling it towards Feng. The man at arms balance was destroyed by the combination of pushing and pulling, dropping him to one knee, and Feng didn't miss a beat. His arm wrapped around the man at arms length, slotting in between his helm and chest plate before applying pressure, like a snake engulfing its prey. Feng chose not to leave any permanent injuries because this was not a fight to the death. The man at arms dropped his weapon and began trying to grip Feng's arms, as many do the first time they encounter this fighting style, but this is where the plated gauntlets show their weakness; they are not great when trying to grip skin. Feng let go after the man at arms lost his will to fight and consciousness.

The fight drew a large crowd, many of whom were perplexed by what had just occurred. It didn't take long for the confusion to give way to joy. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why grappling is so important for a knight to learn." As a familiar face pushed his way to the front of the crowd, Feng smiled smugly. "If you want to learn more, go to the house at the top of the village, knock three times, and tell Master Nicholas that Feng Taki sent you. Or you could talk to this old man right here." The crowd turned to face the man to whom Feng was pointing. A man with long silver hair reaching all the way down his back stood in front of him. He was small in stature, which surprised many people. His clothing was similar to what Feng frequently wore, a changshan, which was unusual in Brenia. To Nicolas's students, however, it was a sign that they were classified as a teacher of his style.

"Didn't I say I never wanted to see your face again, Feng?"

"Wait... it doesn't go away after a year like it did the last time, and I wanted you to teach me more."

"You're fortunate, I admire your willpower, most would have given up by now."

"And its nothing to do with that soft spot you have for your first student?"

When the two approached each other, the old man was behind Feng, his arm around his neck in the same way that Feng had done to the man at arms. The difference was that it was much faster and more fluid than what Feng was doing. He moved in between Feng's blinks, causing Feng to miss most of his moment as the old man's grip tightened and a strange smile appeared on Feng's face. "I notice you're still prone to dropping your guard, Feng." The old man let go and took a step back at that point. "Or maybe I'm the one who picked up your bad habit." While the old man had locked one of Feng's arms down with the grapple, his other arm was not only free but also behind him, ready to grab something, something low around the middle of someone's groin. "You've picked up a nasty technique." The two men burst out laughing as they walked towards the top of the village, leaving the crowd stunned.

The walk to Nicolas' manor was deafeningly quiet. Nicolas' manor was designed in the same way as gladiator schools, as a training facility rather than a home. When they arrived at the manor, there were 36 people in training, with two teachers keeping an eye on them. When Nicholas returned, they all turned to greet him.

Recently, the style had gained some renown, with knights from all over Brenia flocking to learn from Nicolas in the so-called Nicolas school of grappling or Nicolas style for short. The style evolved from the already learned grappling style that knights use to this day, as well as Nicolas' 40-year quest to answer the question "Is it possible to become the strongest only using my hands?" with Nicolas attempting to make a way to fight that can be used even against the strongest, most armoured fighter no matter how strong or weak you are. Most people who train today would leave after only learning the fundamentals and continue down the path of the weapon, adding in what the Nicolas style had to offer. In fact, it was one of these aforementioned knights who got Feng excommunicated because he insulted the idea that the Nicolas style would ever work as a full way to fight, which Feng didn't like, and ever since that incident, he had been proving that knight wrong by doing his new favourite hobby of knight crushing, which, while giving Feng a bad name, had worked wonders for the Nicolas style.

As Nicolas walked directly to the front of the class and motioned to Feng to do the same, hushed tones erupted, mostly from people wondering who the man with Nicolas was, with a few answering the questions with "a bastard, that's who." Feng's face was in its usual resting position of the casual smirk that those who remembered him from a year ago had come to despise as the two approached the front of the class and Nicolas began speaking.

"For those of you who don't know who this man is, his name is Fang Taki. He is without a doubt the second most knowledgeable about my style of any student I have taught, as well as my first. He's been away..." Nicolas' words were halted by a brief pause as he looked at Feng. "on business for me, and now has returned"

"Many apologies for interrupting." A voice from the back of the courtyard cut Nicolas off, prompting many raised eyebrows to look in the direction of the newcomer. It was a female standing around 5'8 and dressed from head to toe in half-plate armour, which was common for out in the boonies travel. The armour was not ordinary; it was emblazoned with Bernia's kingdom colours and a coat of arms on each shoulder. It wasn't often he saw this style of armour outside of the capitol, and it was even rarer in the boonies.

"I have a letter for Feng Taki of the utmost urgency and I heard he's around here."

"What did you do this time, Feng?"

"Old man, your words wound me."

Feng locked his gaze on the messenger before approaching her and accepting the letter. It should have been then that he realised how significant this was, but the ink seal meant nothing to him.

"Well, Feng Taki has the letter, so you're free to go."

"Of course, please accept my apologies for interrupting."

Feng returned to the courtyard's front and took his stance next to Nicolas, holding the letter in his hand.

"Are you planning on reading that?"

"No, why? Would you like to?"

"Well, it bears the wax seal of the King."

"Is that so?"

"Oh gods give it here."

"you could have simply asked."

"Oh... oh...So Fang isn't coming back to us; he has another job."

"You said I was fine to rejoin, old man."

"Simply read the letter."

Feng carefully read the letter, but only a few words stood out to him. The words in bold red text, EXILE OR EXECUTION, stood out to him. His reaction was simple, but it was all he felt about the situation and examined everything in one word. With his usual sarcasm the word escapes his lips. "Great"

 

[Optimo]

Leofric Swetenham

It was a beautiful day in Brenia. The rays of the sun burst into Leofric's room, shooting right onto his eyelids. An irritated groan rumbled from the motionless body sprawled across the bed. "Ah good morning, sweetings." The female voice and clanking of metal coming from the kitchen alerted Leofric and he shot up, only to find out he was completely undressed. Then it hit him, he must've had some fun, the night before.

Leofric brushed a brunette lock out of his face. The sunlight hit his iris and gave it a ravishing auburn shine. A humorous smile crept onto his face as he swung his legs over the edge of his bed. "Morning, gorgeous." The man made his way to the kitchen and was met with a beautiful young woman with long dark hair tied and braided up in a very intricate, yet delicate manner. Her skin was a gorgeous pale which perfectly contrasted with her hair.

Her eyes were practically sapphires sitting in her sockets. Starting from the women's eyes, Leofric's eyes slowly descended her body making sure to take in and observe every curve and detail of her lovely being. "Well, what have we here?" The woman turned to looked at the undressed adventurer leaning against the entrance of the kitchen. "I have to leave in a few and I thought I'd get up and make you some breakfast. You know... After giving me such a good time yesterday.." Her words trailed off and the corners of her mouth lifted into a playful smirk. "Well isn't that just sweet." Leofric walked over to her and gently grabbed her waist, pulling her in closer.

"Has anybody ever told you how sweet you are, Sarah?" Sarah's face had reddened deeply but her smile was even broader now. "I mean, you did yesterday..." Now incredibly flustered, she couldn't hold her gaze and directed it off to the side. "But, I don't think I'll get tired of hearing it from you." Leofric tucked a loose hair behind her ear and with his hand already behind her head, he brought it closer so he could land a soft kiss on her forehead. "Then I'll just keep on saying it." Sarah was lovestruck. Heart warm, body hot, relishing in the moment.

She let a few seconds pass before she reluctantly pulled away, her gaze immediately drawn to the lean, chiseled musculature of the man in front of her. Her face got even redder. "Put on some clothes you silly fool." She rolled her eyes as a giggle crept out of her mouth. It just dawned on Leofric that he was still "clothes-less". "Oh, right..." He let out an embarrassed chuckle and turned to head back into the bedroom. "Give me a minute, I'll walk you out." With that, Sarah finished setting up breakfast while Leofric got dressed.

Now clothed, Leofric walked behind Sarah as she made her way to the door. "Thanks for-" Sarah opened the door and to both their surprise, another woman stood at the entrace. This one was a blond elf who held an envelope and closed fist as if she were about to knock. "...Breakfast." The man finished. Sarah ignored the elf and turned to Leofric, planting a passionate kiss on his cheek.

"Bye, sweetings." She left with a skip. The vampire and the elf stared at each other for a few moments, the female's brow twitching in what seemed to be irritation. "Are you going to invite me in?" The presence of irritation was very apparent in her tone. "Oh, right. Yeah come in." Leofric stepped to the side and swung a hand, welcoming her into his home. She stepped inside and he closed the door after her.

"Wh-What are you doing here, Cithrel?" Cithrel completely ignored his question and answered with one of her own. "New girl I see?" The irritation could still be heard in her voice. "She- We- That's... Not my girl. She's not my official partner." Cithrel's brow twitched again but then her features softened. "What are you doing here, Cith? I haven't seen you since, well, the last time we were together. Can I get you something to drink or anything?" The elf let out an exhausted sigh. "You are such a mess, Leo. I don't need a drink." Her voice had lightened and she made her way to the side of his bed and sat.

She looked all around the house. "I haven't been here in what seems like forever..." The girl mumbled mostly to herself. Seeming to reflect on memories. The wandering thoughts shook from her mind as she refocused on the envelope held in her gentle hands. "I was sent to deliver a letter to you. I don't know what kind of trouble you're in now." Leofric frowned in confusion.

"Letter? Why were you sent? What do you mean trouble?" Cithrel looked directly into his eyes, a glimmering shine of worry filled hers. She extended her hand, giving the envelope to Leofric. "I was sent by the king. It was written, by the king." Filled with awe, the long-haired man couldn't speak. He grasped the envelope and looked over it, recognizing the wax seal of the king. His eyes flicked towards Cithrel one more time before he opened the envelope.

Upon opening the letter, he was met with bold red lettering, NOTICE OF REQUEST. THE INDIVIDUAL THAT THIS LETTER IS ADDRESSED TO IS COMMANDED TO REPORT BEFORE THE KING IMMEDIATELY. FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN EXILE FROM THE KINGDOM OR EXECUTION VIA HANGING. He continued to read and when he was done he looked at Cithrel, confused and worried. "We have to go." Without thinking twice, Leofric grabbed Cithrel's hand and started on his way. "W-Wait! Wh-What?" The gorgeous elf was confused but she couldn't help but feel warm holding her ex-lover's hand.

 

[noil]

Erik Graven^{- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -}

Erik sat on the hunched remains of what had once been an impressive fitted stone wall, one leg tucked under to rest a leather-bound book of notes upon. His quill had stilled on the open page as his thoughts wandered away from whatever word he had been in the action of jotting down.

He'd come to this place on a whim. There had been references in some of his sources over the years to an ancient druidic sect, and Erik had finally taken the time to piece together the clues and trace their most likely location to here. There was indeed the evidence of there having once been an Order of some kind here, though their existence seemed to remain in history only, as all that remained here was of the crumbled and grown-over variety.

He could still feel the echoes of the power that had once flowed through the now-ruined hallways. Anyone who might have been able to give him the answers he was looking for was far too long gone to simply ask directly, though. The faded murals and worn engravings that remained would have to give up their secrets in bits and pieces. Unfortunately the only bits and pieces that remained seemed to only be vague glyphs referencing aeromancy.

Aeromancy was a fine enough pursuit, if a bit insipid and flamboyant at times, but it wasn't what he was looking for. If these druids were simple air mages the connection to high powered, finnicky energy manipulations was lost on him. If only the remaining ruins weren't in such a state of decay maybe he could-

"Sir. Sir!" A voice finally broke through Erik's trailing thoughts. By its tone, repeating itself not for the first time.

Erik blinked, glancing down at the page before him and swearing at the sight of the growing blotch of ink that had begun to spread from his stilled pen. He swiped at the offending spot with the corner of a sleeve and slid off from his perch to land before what appeared by their garb to be a courier of some sorts.

"What do you want." The flatness in his voice caused the messenger's expression to lose some of its annoyance, traded in for hints of nervousness.

Erik had only been in town a couple times since arriving here for various sundry needs, and he certainly hadn't given anyone his full name in the few days he'd been in the area, so it was with suspicion that he regarded the sealed parchment held out to him. The king's seal. That couldn't be anything good. Urgent unexpected missives from monarchs never meant anything enjoyable. They were, however, very good at inciting curiosity Erik never seemed quite able to resist.

He sighed deeply and grabbed the letter from its carrier, wasting no time in cracking the wax and unfurling the parchment.

NOTICE OF REQUEST. THE INDIVIDUAL THAT THIS LETTER IS ADDRESSED TO IS COMMANDED TO REPORT BEFORE THE KING IMMEDIATELY. FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN EXILE FROM THE KINGDOM OR EXECUTION VIA HANGING.

"Oh fuck me."