Fantasy Chivalry: Academy for Future Knights

[Terragon]

"A cold? A disease?" Armel snorted to himself in bemusement. "Well if being cold is considered a disease then you better watch out, because I can tell you that at least one of us has a full blown sickness." He put a hand over his mouth trying to cover up his enormous grin, and then let out a sigh.


"So they sent a priestess to watch over us? Oh you better be careful about some of our oh-so-horrible demonic practices like...dare I say...hunting animals for food-or-or-or turning into a giant lizard with wings and flying about." Armel paused and thought to himself that he was being way to passive aggressive to someone who didn't necessarily deserve it...yet.


"Eh, grand hunt shmad hunt. To us dragons there isn't anything all that special about hunting because that is what most of us have to do in order to survive, which makes us natural experts at it. I mean if the three of us really wanted to put our 100 percent into this 'Grand Hunt' then we would probably piss about everyone off by stealing their kills ya know."

 

[Killigrew]

"Participate." Mal said simply. It would be best for the boy to do so. The action could prove his savior right. Mahl'Iss would be more than willing to help him slay the beast, too, provided the description was confirmed to be as she thought it was. She saw no need to express this, however, the boy ought to see that for himself. Mahl's gaze was sliding. She felt that this conversation had reached its end.


Their magister Jakob was a commanding presence all his own. With a simple straightening of his form, he caught her eye, and as his arm in a sweeping movement gestured onward, Mal took a quick look around.


Dissidents, silent, but obvious, were permeating into the commonfolk. The humans were getting antsy. Demons among them. An execution scaffold above them. Their fearful and hostile expressions said who they thought should join the coward knight, those three demons that were a blight on their peaceful lives.


Mahl'Iss saw it prudent to return to the castle. She spared a nod for the boy, and then Lureana, and left the duo to take up pace behind Sir Jakob.

 

[Jays]

Rahl absentmindedly ran his left hand across the sword on his belt, a habit he caught watching the knights. Not that the blade was at all practical, at least for him. He could not master the art any better than a human child, may be even worse. The sword was entirely ceremonial, and for one reason or another, it made human less tense around him. Like giving him a piece of steel could somehow dull his own predatory edge, or revealed his vulnerability.


Rahl recalled his experience of "hunting". He let out a dry chuckle. "Hunting, for us, is not a ritual. It is neither entertainment, nor is it a test of skill. It's simply survival." He did not mention how the thrill of the chase or the satisfaction of the kills could bring out the animal side, the vicious ultimate predator. That was for the knights to figure out for themselves, a rather nasty surprise. He could already see in his mind how these two-legged creatures would react to the sight of dragons in their most brutal glory. Fear and terror in a human always led to foolish actions. Was there a way to avoid such incidents? Not very likely.


"What about you, priestess? You must be quite knowledgable to have been chosen for such task. How well is your understanding of our kind?" Rahl mentally cut off his own train of thoughts, deliberately changing the subject.

 

[Syrenrei]

"Oh, I volunteered for the task. There was more than just me interested- though I'm afraid you wouldn't have enjoyed their company very much. I was ultimately selected for a few different reasons, but mostly because I do quite a bit of observations and scribing in my free time. While I must be the most knowledgeable of the clergy, I wouldn't presume to know nearly enough to take pride in." Her humility was tempered slightly by a twinkle in her eyes that was not nearly as daft as she appeared. It was gone an instant after it surfaced, however, and her simpleton smile was what persevered. It was not difficult to imagine Areynia as the absent-minded librarian and perhaps that was why she was assigned- she did not have apparent bias and instead was interested in recording whatever transpired. As tempting as it was for the church to assign a zealot to monitor the dragons, it would do little to convince the rest of the populace if the observer was obviously skewed. No, they sound pure, undeniable evidence.


And the apparently innocent Areynia was firmly stuck in the middle of the political mess.


It did give them a certain 'bubble' around their persons. Some kept their distance out of palpable fear for the dragons, others did not want to interfere with what might be a church-endorsed questioning, and yet others were put off by Areynia's gentle idiocy. Most kept their gaze on the non-humans but the priestess garnered a fair amount of attention herself, diverting the scorn handily. Her open fraternization, endorsed as not, and the dazzling grins tossed at the dragons, did not make her many friends. "If I had to hunt for my food as you do I am afraid I would not last very long! I look forward to see what hunting is like for you. I had hoped to bring my horse with me but I think he may be a bit unnerved by you in your natural forms." Traveling would be a bit difficult with her apparent lack of coordination and the effortless agility of the dragons. Even in their humanoid forms there was little doubt they could outpace her 'observations' with their eyes closed and a gimp leg. Small children could outrun her. Toddlers perhaps.

 

[Auren]

Lureana watched the interactions between the boy and dragon. She kept her expression gentle and as quickly as Mal appeared, she was onward to do something else. Lureana turned toward Wyatt, and thought for a moment before grinning.


"She's a tense, but she's also very invested," Lureana said, meaning Mal. "I believe she was the one that caught me in our hide-and-seek game a while back. You should try that sometime. Playing hide-and-seek with a dragon is an experience you can't forget." With a light chuckle, she glanced around them, at the buildings of the town and the crowd that was sparse, but obviously attentive of their presence. She could only assume it was dragon that made everyone eye them so. She turned her attention back to Wyatt.


"If you participate in the Hunt, I'm sure we will run into one another on the field. We could possibly join together or some such, I'm sure," she said, encouraging the lad. He still seemed to be a little off from his discussion, and without the funds for another pastry, she searched for a topic to ease his mind. Her eyes landed on his goggles, and she motioned to them.


"Why do you wear those?"she asked, her tone only inciting curiosity.

 

[Sgt Grunt]

Jakob shook his head slightly when the students failed to move promptly, taking a deep breath before clearing his throat. His Germanic decent came through in his accent due to his slight annoyance. Something about the recent days were bothering him, but he couldn't put a finger on the why. A general unease that made him edgy and lacking in his usual patience.


Discipline should be a tad higher than this, by now.


"Ahem, Troop? Move towards the hunt grounds. Now. And you," Jakob held a hand up to stop the young lad from following his members. "Report to the nearest available magister for a posting into a new unit. I cant very well take just anyone into a... special squad such as this. You may watch if it pleases you, but I cannot allow you to participate as a member. My apologies." He placed open hand to chest with a slight bow before herding the members of the 'Dragon team' towards their destination.

 

[Killigrew]

Sayne du Challant


A horse was more than a machine to ride, more than a cart that carried. It was a proclamation of status; gold and cash flows like blood through the fiber of its muscles and the resilience of its temperament. The divide in class and power, therefore, was in more than just the intricacies of the armor, or the coat of arms for every noble house; it was in the resource and manner of a person, and in the belongings they carried and the lives they controlled.


And the Grand Hunt, with its starting line, demonstrated this fateful preference in no uncertain terms. At the front were the privileged, the honored, the wanted. They in their flowing robes and immaculate golden trim were the highest ranking fellows of the Lionhart Order. The mercantile benefactors of the entire event had a resulting advantage. That there was a Hochmeister at the forefront of the Teutons caused no change in the arrangement of persons nor precedence of release. The Lionhart Lords were to be the first allowed entrance into the forest, the highest of Templars second, and the highest of rowdy Teutons third, all in rotary ranking from highest of their Order to lowest. And then the squads of students and their respective mentors would be released to trek the forest, in groups of varying size, but no more than two per order. And then, hours later, least of all, disadvantaged most, the commoners that signed up with no Lord to serve would be priviledged with the chance to participate -- but they would be watched closely, and any victory or spoil gained would be looked over in great suspicion -- no commoner had won this Hunt, after all. They ought not rank too high, either.


The entire field outstretched wide and green before the castle walls, and nigh half was covered in bodies and beasts, bordered by audience and judges.


The hunt itself was expected to last a full week, but it had been known to last longer. There was no time constraint placed on the hunters -- the hunt would end only once the greatest beast would be slain, and its head retrieved. For Sir Gawain’s Hunt, the beast was expected and confirmed to be the striped, mighty, hulking boar from the northern peaks of Templar territory. The feast to follow was more than worth the days' of trouble.


It was this extension of time that brought many of the higher class to take with them a servant, a weaponless assistant that would tend to their needs; their laundry, their dressing, their animals, and other such menial tasks. The nobility largely desired that their focus be on the hunt and the hunt alone, and with the help of their non-participating servant, this could be possible.


At the front awaited one Lord, his head high, golden hair vibrant in the rays of sun, shifted in weight with his horse as one, the white stallion tapping its hooves as Sayne shifted his hips. He was getting antsy, and Snowflake was getting skittish. The heat had made rise a film of lukewarm sweat that dampened his cloth and dripped down his the metal armor.


He could explain in detail the men around him. Sir Jacques, the Duke of Luc Louis, some province renown for a city riddled with strange alchemic advancements. The duke himself was a reedy fellow, always sneezing or sniffling and complaining about the slightest of aches. He and Lord Etrie beside him had been longstanding allies, and the latter the greater respected, for he was bold and healthy and in every way Jacques' opposite. Moreover, the man was the second of the contendors for the Great Lord's throne. They together were a nerve-wracking presence. Sayne wished to be rid of the two of them once he'd the opportunity. The third of which he had no worried unto; Duke Bourgeis was the most simpleminded of leaders, with a placid smile and calm demeanor. If there was anyone among the high-ranked of Lionharts that Sayne believed he could manipulate with his eyes closed and hands tied, it was this man.


To the left of their golden group were the Templars, and Sayne did not turn his head towards them as he recited in his mind those in their company. Green were the banners that flew among them, and a mere five of the Templar's fellows sat astride their horses with no collection of servants behind them. Their group would feed and clothe themselves -- for the Templars were proud in their humility and braggarts of their capability. They had been deemed hunters by their Grandmaster, not by blood or by specific deed, and for that reason they were not expected to be the victors.


And to the right were the red-clad, fiery men. Among the Teutons were mighty warriors -- one clad in tigerskin from the previous hunt, the great beast's roaring skull forged into the officer's helmet. In the midst of them was the Hochmeister himself, with a peppery beard and a fierce grin. The Hochmeister was young for his status -- a mere 32 years of age, and bristling with excitement like a bright-eyed squire.


The anticipatory clamor did not register for the participation of the high nobles, and Sayne was left with his thoughts.


He would not allow his mind to wander to the servant seated on a horse behind him. The one that Elise would not cease to prod him on, no matter the efforts he made to circumvent such questioning. It wore on him; not even in his bedroom could he escape the attempts to search his mind and heart and know him inside and out. His being was not her business; it was not anyone's business, not even his own. It wasn't long before he was sick of her, whatever her veteran know-how, and Sayne had excused Elise from his cabin the day prior, but the act had done little to dull his senses. Rest was scarce even without a woman to interrupt it.


Indeed, the opposite of his wishes occurred; he'd been stretched in every direction making preparations, being advised by the Great Lord, chided in who he should not be, and in what he should pursue. And by the end of it, there was more to give; his mother's news, the passing of a letter, and the declaration of a certain arrangement to which Sayne was now tied.


'You just cannot focus, Sayne.' His mother had said. But he could focus; that was what, though she didn't know it, irked her. His mind would not, despite his conscious efforts, spend attention on the instructive exhortation of the Lady of Chardonney. It focused entirely too much on entirely the wrong things. It would send him back to that day of tattered leisure. It would wander him down paths past, those he'd long chosen to part from. The unconscious relived, recreated it all as though he could caress it in the now.


The touch of her hands. The sounds drawn out her throat. Her wide, innocent smile. And the uneven feel of her scarred back.


And it did more than remember. It hypothesized, it projected. It visualized a future with a lowborn, undesirable, expendable girl that had no reasonable grip over his senses, and yet, beyond all rationality, did.


He’d lived with himself long enough to figure he knew Sayne. But he had only come to be certain of his own habits, it was only the surface of his person that had been memorized, that he had been aware of and interpreted. It had never mattered enough to meditate on his own thoughts; he could do as he was told, and that was all he needed to do.


But that had long been his life, and the lives of all around him; their kind was led and carried in the direction decided by others, and they could either follow along willingly and enjoy the journey or resist the hands of their captors and learn the struggle futile unto death.


It does not take much thought to determine which is the more enjoyable option.


In the tower ahead, overlooking the forest, the bonfire was struck, a reaching orange against the overcast sky, and the bell was set to ringing.


As one flooding motion, the Lionhart nobles rushed for the forest, galloping horses and glorious whoops of excitement cried aloud. In quick succession, for a second time the bell clamoured, and the Templars set into motion, and then, with the third clanging, came the Teuton hierarchs.


The Grand Hunt was on.


==========================


Mahl'Iss


They were midway towards the back, dressed in the Academy’s blue. Torath had seen them all before the hunt, all those in their dragon’s squad and explained, perhaps in repetition to the humans, that in this hunt the Academy’s own were not recognized by any of the three orders; they represented Galt. The land was united in these festivities, and so the dragons’ participation therein would be watched with careful consideration. He’d told the scaly ones especially not to show their strength, not to even in moderation reveal their truest nature. They were to show the humans they could be human, and this they must already know by now, but he thought it wise to say it again.


But Mahl’Iss wasn’t certain she could keep that promise. She’d marked the Hochmeister’s scent and followed his path with closed eyes. His beast of burden carried him far, but at the rate of the bell’s clanging, it would not be too far for her tracking, let alone Arr’Muhil and his naturally superior talent in the same. They had a hunt all their own -- and it would be a greater challenge than any of the humans’, for they would not be given glory for their strength, and they were stripped of the right to publically display any form of natural might. The sword was strapped at her waist, the bow and its quiver to her back. They were beaten, old weapons, but they would have to do. They would try it the humans’ way; they’d come this far after all. But their dragonkin came first.


It was after their release, after she and her group, feet alone carrying them on, lead by their magister Jakob, after they had entered into the lush greenery of the forest that the scent struck her. That odd, burning smell, a mixture like sulfur and rotted fruit. It was subtle, hinted on the edges of her superior nose -- the humans would not be able to smell it even slightly.


It put her senses on high alert, every step was tentative, almost slow, and her wary eyes cast all around her, following the shadows.


Jakob may not have known it, but his leadership had the group in a roundabout trailing of the Hochmeister’s group. His scent never left Mahl’s perceiving; the proximity rarely exceeded a quarter league. They tarried on through bush and dirt and, on occasion, over a sloshing stream. The academy gave them no horses; academ were all equals on this hunt. Their equipment was standard, and Mahl was restrained in both body and tongue by that hovering priestess who yammered on except when Jakob bid her silence.


They’d made camp for the night, the fire trickling high, and the dragons slept in the tents as watch was taken up by Lureana and Cordelia, Jakob watching from his standing post before the tent. The day had been uneventful; but for a few rabbits to fill their stomachs, large animals were scarce. Action had made sloths of them all, for a crackling in the bushes invaded the otherwise peaceful time.


Out of the shadows, reflected in the flame, were the sharp yellow eyes of a wolf.

 

[Auren]

Lureana felt the day go by in a rush. The Hunt started as it always had, but this time she was not of any faction. Instead she and the others of the dragon group represented Galt and peace. She understood the High Magister's words well enough, and set a goal to help the dragons be human on this hunt.


The day had offered little in reward for the animals they had caught. She only assumed this was mostly due to the crowd that was ahead of them, catching the larger prey. Her body was sore from the long day of travel, but she kept her mind sharp with number games, of which she recited in her head. She had helped with the skinning and cooking of rabits, and didn't make much conversation with the others. Actually, other than the priestess, none other really seemed to have the will to talk. She supposed it was the nervousness that the Hunt brought with it.


She did not think they would find the largest beast in the wood that would win the hunt, and she had no doubt that some of the Lords would try to cheat their way into winning. Lureana was lost in her thoughts when she noticed something gleaming in the bushes. She walked closer to investigate, her hand on her hilt as she drew closer.


She barely had enough time to draw her sword when something large and furred leaped onto her. She crashed to the ground, being held down by something large as her arm raised in defense against the creature. Her head cracked, and darkness edged her vision when something ground its teeth into her skin, blood boiled out in escape before the creature above her growled, low and dark.


Lureana barely caught glance of its yellow eyes before it began to rip its mouth left and right. She raised her opposite hand and slammed a fist into the creatures jaw, causing it to release her as it stumbled to the side. She grabbed her sword, which had stumbled out of her hand when she fell, and chambered to her feet. She finally realized it was a wolf she was fighting before it lunged again. She stepped forward, slamming her elbow into the creatures underbelly during its mid-flight.


It flew back towards the ground, quickly rising to its feet. Blood coated the fur around its mouth, and the same blood dripped from Lureana's arm. She held her sword in her opposite hand, and while she had mild practice with that hand, the weapon still felt heavy and clumsy to her. The wolf circled her, and in the distance, she could the howls of the pack. Slowly, the terrifying sounds of their howls inched closer, and Lureana assumed it wouldn't be long before the rest were at their camp as well.

 

[Sgt Grunt]

Jakob sat prodding the fire near the center of their camp, unable to sleep from the thoughts that chased him. He knew this to be his correct course, helping the dragons, yet something about what the god had said back in the temple drew out his anxiety.


How am I to aid these creatures, when all of humanity is set against them? It does not matter that I will continue to do so regardless of failure, that does not bother me. But the fact that I will fail if things keep going this way... Now that disturbs me. I have been given a task by no less than a god. I cannot afford failure.





His eyes snapped back to reality at the sound of rustling bushes somewhere behind him, and he froze, only incrementally shifting his head to slowly look for the source. The wolf that bounded out after his student surprised him so badly his body failed to immediately respond.


A wolf would never attack a party this size... "To arms! Up camp and draw swords! To arms!" He bellowed through the night, trying to wake the students and come to grips with the wolf before it did more damage. He charged, hoping his aggression would scare the beast off, or at least distract it.

 

[TerraBooma]

It didn't take Wyatt long to find a knight willing to take him in, being the lone survivor of an attack he had something about him that apparently made him desirable to train, at least for a few knights anyway. He had a feeling that it was more of them trying to say how they could train much better then the last knight but at the time he couldn't really explain it.


What took him less time, was ditching his squad of hunters the second he had the chance, it wasn't that he disliked them, it was just that he didn't want to go hunting in a group again, not if he could help it. That is how Wyatt somehow managed to find himself with his back to a tree, snarling, starving wolf with sharp teeth before him. He felt that he should be scared, but after the beast attack a wolf didn't seem nearly as threatening as before. He was still scared, but he felt more calm then he did before. Mind racing he tried to figure out how to fight it, he didn't have a bolt loaded, and chances were that in the time that it would take him to do so the beast would be upon him all too quickly.


That left his short sword.


Grimacing he drew his blade, knowing that circumstances were never good when he had to get up close and personal, fighting with a sword wasn't exactly Wyatt's forte, in fact he'd argue that he really hsouldn't use a sword, he was more of a threat to those around him then to his opponents. With that last thought the wolf charges at him.


He barely had time to get the blade up before he was on the ground in a scuffle with death itself. The wolf was younger then your typical one, but just as desperate and just as dangerous as the others. Its teeth dig into his left shoulder, and he shouts in pain. Desperately he brought his blade up before the wolf could do anymore damage, stabbing it through its softer underbelly. After that there's nothing but a yelp and the beast finally goes Limp.


Standing up, Wyatt looked around, a puzzled look on his face, he mutterd aloud, mostly to make sure he could still talk. "Don't wolves normally attack in packs...?" Before he could think on it he heard a howl and the sound of a fight not far from where he was. He quickly loaded up a new bolt in his crossbow as he'll be more help with a fully loaded weapon then with just a blade.


He stumbled through the forest until he reached the clearing where a wolf seemed to be attacking somebody, he couldn't tell who but he figured they could use a hand. Taking up a stance he pointed his crossbow at the wolf, taking a deep breath, and releasing, all in a couple of seconds. The bolt flew through the air, straight at the wolf.


He really hoped his aim would be true that day.

 

[Auren]

Lureana's eyes never left the wolf as it circled her. Its grin displayed yellow, sharp teeth etched with blood. She held her sword up, but the weight and her weak arm forced her into an improper stance. She could hear Magister Jakob in the background, yelling his orders, but her gaze did not move from the predator.


As the wolf hunched into a readying stance of attack, an arrow hit its side. In the darkness, Lureana couldn't see the area the arrow wounded, and she didn't have the time to attempt finding out. The wolf was wounded and distracted, and that was the chance she needed. She grasped her sword with both hands, rushing forward as she used all her weight to shove its tip into the fallen wolf's chest. Blood splatter over her clothes, and the wolf whispered one last breath.


Howls from the pack drew closer still, and Lureana pulled her sword free. She didn't have time to clean it, especially with the pack coming closer. It was strange for one wolf to attack outside the pack, but perhaps it saw her as easy prey. She settled with thinking on the matter later as she rushed back towards the fire and the rest of the group.


She held her injured arm close to her body, looking at the rest of the group, and finally Magister Jakob. She could handle her sword with her weak arm, but she would have to choose her fights wisely. She barely noticed the blood that covered her legs and the sprinkle of it on her face. Her thoughts wandered back to the fight. Where had the arrow come from?

 

[Sgt Grunt]

Jakob's charge faltered as the wolf died under the combined attack, squinting his eyes to search the dark for the source of the arrow. He had a moment to see a familiar face on a young lad before turning his attention back towards his wounded student. He got to her quickly, placing himself in front of her and towards the howls of incoming wolves.


"Stay behind me, Lureana," He said calmly. "Do not engage by yourself unless you absolutely must. The others and I will keep them away from you."

 

[Killigrew]

Sleep had been a scarce benefit, scarcer still for the chain of skin that bound her serpentine body. Rest had been a rare encounter on the soft beds of the Academy, and out here on the hard earth she anticipated futility. So Mahl sat on the dust floor of the makeshift tent, warmed by the light of the fire behind her that set warm shadows across her back and listened with all her senses to the surroundings beyond the veil of cloth.


She'd smelled the wolves coming. The metallic taste of blood had thickened the air as they approached the camp en masse. The beasts were spooked, because they sensed the monster beyond, and fear carved a path to aggression.


As the camp came alive with conflict, and the din of Jakob's call to arms was loud even in chaos, Mahl turned on Rahl'Dazz and Arr'Muhil, her blue eyes flashing.


"Now is the time," She said low in the old tongue. "We may escape in this confusion."


With those words, she crawled out the tent and hugged its borders, going around to the opposite side and listening and watching all the while for the reassuring patter of her two comrades following after.


@Jaysun

 

[JellyFish]

Cordelia watched the flickers of the fire. Weary by the changing glow that burned. It was suppose to by a source of comfort and protection. But oh how quickly the tables turned with a mere flick of the wrist. Fear tumbled in the depths of her heart, casting her back into a land of forgotten memory. People who haunted her dreams where engulfed in the dim flames, screaming in howling anguish. Blank hands, crumbling in the ash reached out to her, crying and moaning voices. She rose her hands, clasping them against her ears. She didn't want to hear them calling her. The demands, the fire dropped tears. Cordelia silently murmuring a prayer. Mumbled words begging for forgiveness as dazed eyes closed to block out the horrid pictures that raced.


The howling grew louder, closer. A whimper choked her and her legs felt near ready to give out. It was only when she heard the yelling tone, one familiar and one she resented. Cordelia opened her eyes and gazed around into the inky surroundings. It took a moment for her to register what was happening. A comrade was down, their teacher now in the process of helping her.


Cordelia swallowed a shaken breath. She hadn't been there to help when she was needed. This was the thought that followed her as she leaped past clinging branches to see if she could do anything. This was coming for a woman who never cared for others. Who held to her selfish desires with enraged passion. But this was also coming from the woman who had only just woken up from a nightmare dancing in the flames.


She ran to their guardian and leader, Jakob. Breathing jumbling and clashing with her usual calm and reserved calm, she spared a glance to Lureana and quickly looked away, stare hardening. Her gaze held to the ground, thick droplets of blood splattering onto the ground. She followed the trail until she stared at the dead body of a wolf, a few yards away.


"Do we move from the grounds?" The question was simple. If they stayed the possibility of being overwhelmed by a pack were more than guaranteed. If they moved away, the chances of still being hunted and caught by the faster beasts still held a iron grip. In all, only doomed exits surrounded them. Now which exist gave them the best hope?

 

[Sol]

The rest of the day zoomed by after she followed him into the forest.


Franne found herself staring up at the vast expanse of the night sky. A black canvas painted with streaks of dark blue and dots of white in varying sizes. The clouds did not seem eager to disrupt the canvas and was nowhere to be found. The moon acted as a centerpiece that shined brighter than all the other stars that surrounded it. A chill wind raced through the forest where they held the Grand Hunt but it carried no sounds with it, as if the nocturnal inhabitants of this side of the forest respected the majesty of the night. The wind wrapped itself around her in a gentle embrace as she sat on on the highest branch of a particularly large and old tree.


The silence was broken by a hacking cough.


Franne felt her chest tighten more and more with each cough. Her body was trying to expel something but that particular something could not so easily be expelled. She held tightly on the branch as she coughed and as sudden as it came, she was no longer coughing. The palm covering her mouth was probably covered in her spittle but she knew full well what else came with it. Blood. No doubt the poison was already working its devices within her. It wouldn't kill her outright but she would be completely sapped of her strength at the end of it all. Lord Etrie had most likely selected this particular poison to quietly erase Sayne from the bigger picture, however this particular poison is not resistant to most cures and is easily treated with the right herbs, rest and food.


It was possible that the herbs grow this in particular forest, as it was a fairly common herb or so Elise had said. The problem would be trying to grind it into powder without tools as well as the lack of rest and food that would be part of her life from this day until the end of the Grand Hunt. She had shamed Sayne in front of Lords Etrie, Jacques and Bourgeis, and her actions were inexcusable. No servant in their right mind would wrench their master's cup from his hands and finish the contents themselves, even if the drink obviously smelled off and was laced with a particular kind of synthesized poison. To put her back in her place, Sayne had personally hit her himself and sent her away for what she has done, he was furious to say the least. She knew him well enough that he would not be content with just hitting her and exiling her from the camp for the night. She was supposed to rest but found herself unable to close her eyes lest she become food for wolves. She was supposed to eat but had nothing except poisoned wine for dinner.


Coughing up blood so early since ingesting the poison did not come as a surprise.


She wiped her hand on the branch and descended from the tree. Franne was careful so as not to plummet to her death so early in her life. She had just turned eighteen barely two weeks ago and now she was already courting death. Perhaps the duty of bringing the Stenhardt name into Lionhart nobility fell on someone else's shoulders, but she would not simply shrug off the responsibility just because the possibility was present. She made it down without any incident.


The tree was on elevated ground that overlooked the clearing where Sayne, Etrie, Jacques and Bourgeis made camp. The fire was still burning and one of the servants were standing watch. The tents ringed the campfire, the light from the fire made it the golden tents shine as though a beacon for all predators to see. It was probably a stroke of good fortune that there were no predators to behold the signal, else Franne would have long been in the belly of one. She was sent away clad in nothing but her clothes, she was not allowed any piece of her armor and it did not help that she was already unarmed when she entered the forest.


Her hunger demanded that it be fed and was loudly protesting. It didn't help that the pain from the hunger of not eating a proper meal since the day prior to entering the forest mixed with the pain from the poison gave birth a new kind of pain which sent her on her knees so quickly. This was coming defiant girl who made it a habit to laugh at her previous masters lashing her for insolence or some other stupid reason that didn't sit well with their pride, it was easy to imagine just how bad the pain was, all the more easier to cringe at how painful it is. The stupid hunger could have been sated if she had her weapons, she could kill and gut something. Even without armor to protect her, Franne was confident she could take on most of what this forest had to offer.


The pain subsided not long after and she dragged herself to the trunk of the tree she was on a few seconds ago. She sat against it and was facing the campsite. Even if she could not sleep, at the very least, she would allow herself to rest her eyes. Her eyes closed and she began humming an old tune that was a Stenhardt staple. It was able to put her at ease despite the pain. Perhaps her mother was singing this her little brother at this very moment. She would strive to stay alive and earn prestige for the Stenhardt name as quickly as she could so that her little brother wouldn't have to grow up alone like she did before her life was turned upside down.


All the wealth of the Stenhardt clan did nothing to comfort her, though it did allow her to buy a certain treat that she liked whenever she wanted, which was about as close to comfort as she could get.


noideawhatthehellI'mdoing

 

[Sgt Grunt]

Jakob relaxed his sword arm, letting it fall to his side when he realized the threat of other wolves wasn't immediate and began calling out orders. He pointed his sword first at the lad who'd fired the arrow, now recognizing him in the dim light of their dying campfire.


"You. I do not recall inviting you to my camp, but your aid is welcome. Stay close and keep up. The rest of you," He turned, sword still gripped tightly, "We don't have time to break camp. I want teams of two and I want them now. Swords out and... Where are the dragons?" His mind immediately went into a state of panic when he didn't see them emerging from their tents, and he ran to the nearest one and flung the opening wide.


A damning absence of emotion rooted him to the spot, eyes wide at the empty tent and the implications therein.


No. Nononono- "Where are the dragons?" He repeated.

 

[Auren]

Lureana stood behind Magister Jakob as he positioned himself in front of her. It wasn't long before Cordelia had joined them, and Jakob started giving orders again. He had lowered his own sword and while the pack was closing in, they had yet to make it to them. Lureana nodded toward Wyatt upon his arrive and then took what little time they had to walk over to one of the packs that held the bandages and minor herbs.


She laid her sword down, keeping a watchful eye around her while staying close to the others. She took one of the nearby canteens and poured the water over her wound, hissing as it leaked into the cuts. Then, she wrapped a bandage around her arm, blood leaking through the fresh bandage. She ripped the end with her teeth and secured it to her arm.


She picked up her sword again, still using her opposite hand. Magister Jakob was beginning to become roused, and from his reaction to the empty dragon's tent, he was not happy. She thought about offering some thought of where the dragons were, but she could only give guesses. And she didn't think the Magister would take well to only guesses. She shook her head instead.


She looked to Wyatt and Cordelia. "Who wants to be my partner?" she said, a small smile on her face as she glanced around at the woods around them. She hadn't heard a howl in a while, and she didn't want to find out why anytime soon. Whoever wanted to be her partner would have to work a little harder than usual thanks to her wound.

 

[TerraBooma]

Wyatt stepped out of the forest, approaching the camp and the others. He nodded to Lurenna before approaching Jakob. "I was hunting nearby when a wolf attacked me." He shrugged. "I heard a howl and saw a wolf attacking someone." He pointed to Lurenna. "I didn't want to leave her there, so I shot at the wolf." Before he could continue however, Jakob ran to the tent and threw it open.


He walked back to talk to Lurenna and shrugged at her question. "I'm happy to partner up if you want, that is if you." He pointed to Cord. "wouldn't rather do it instead." He shrugged again and took a bolt from his quiver, he made sure that if he had to get it he could quickly, but he didn't want to make it so he might have accidentally shot someone for a silly reason like bumping into him.

 

[Shura]

The Grand hunt, a celebration of life and victory where all three nations gathered to prove who had more skill. It was an event Corinna had often heard about but never witness, let alone participated but this year was different. She was fortunate enough to be able to join in the grand celebration. She hunted under no flag or lord, none to any mortal clan. Instead she participated in the name of the great god Flambere! Hunting no ordinary beast but possibly one of the foulest creatures to crawl about the earth, Dragons.


Corin watched on from the back along side the other common people who signed up to hunt, observing the waves of people as she scanned over for any sign of her prey. Unfortunately even perched atop a cart she could not see them, her short stature hindering her ability to see anything past the monotonous earthy huge of clothing commoners usually wore. Her own garbs stood out a fair bit as she was clad in white Acolyte robes trimmed with a warm crimson color. Admittedly not the best attire for such an event, yet she wore the robes proudly.


Despite not being able to see her targets she knew some information such as their identifying feature while deceptively masking themselves in human form. They had locks of inhuman colored vibrant tones that should not be possible and strange demonic eyes meant more for beasts than the humans they pretended to be. It sickened her to though that such creatures were just waltzing among these poor souls. She understood the necessity to win the war against the ravenous ForeSworn who had invaded the lands of the Teutonics and the other two clans. However there was one thing she could say with absolute certainty, the only silverlining to having such a threatening force was that the demonic reptilian race was fairing great losses as well. What surprised her most was the fact that the three clans had decided to ally with the beasts! Forcing their impure presence upon the innocent souls of Gallace.


Thus was the reason for her attendance in this grand hunt. As her final task in order to becoming a priestess of Flambege was to cleanse this town of evil, starting with the Dragons. The thunderous sound of horns rose of the din of the common crowd announcing the start of their hunt. With a roaring cheer the hunt was on. The mass of humans rushed forward eager to find their prey. Corin stood atop the cart until the rush had passed before calmly hoping down and following the crowd. She was in no rush, there was week of hunting ahead of her no use in exhausting herself early.


---


The chirp of crickets echoed in the darkness of the night, tall tree partially blocked out the sight of the night sky but it didn’t bother Corinna. She had set up a small camp with small flickering flame and a blanket upon the ground for a bed. Years of traveling had harden her to such conditions to the point where sleeping on the ground was more comfortable than any kind of bed and usually preferred. She knelt by the flame in silent prayer. A small rabbit which she had caught earlier was skinned and set by the fire to cook. She silently thanked the fire god for providing her with the unlucky rabbit which had crossed her path and for giving her the strength to carry out his good work. A long howl broke her concentration partially because of how close it was to her. She shifted her amber gaze into the surrounding woods hand resting on the hilt of her sword in case she needed to draw it.

 

[JellyFish]

Cordelia raised her shoulders, a careless shrug thrown. The mild panic that had risen in her eyes had vanished and an unreadable expression presented. "I don't care whom you partner up with." She spoke from the corner of her mouth, mumbling. She toyed with the silver pommel of her sword, a clearly pointed distraction from what she truly thought. Bringing her gaze up, she passed over Lureana and landed a frost bitten stare on Wyatt. She was satisfied that he had come to her comrade's rescue but the town's tales of this boy still whispered truly in demand to be answered.


"Though I would ask of you not to place your sickness on her. She's much too noble to ever be seen with a rope clinging to her neck." The insult was placed, sharpened to a daggered point. Cordelia wished to skin him alive with poison laced words but it wasn't the place nor time. But she despised scared boys. Cowards held no place in a world of monsters and ghouls, whether they be real or metaphoric.


She kept her stare, most likely longer than needed and turned away from the two. With paced steps she left for the camp, already gripping the hilt. She wanted to be rid of the useless strip of metal. Flimsy and thin, she felt disgust for even wielding such a toy. Her sword, her prized weapon was placed in her tent safely tucked away for a serious matter. And from Jakob's own dismay, this had been risen to a serious matter. The dragons missing and an unknown pack lurking somewhere in the depths of the forest. Maybe more monstrosities lay in wait, though at least it would be said she couldn't be bored.

 

[Jays]

Never before had Rahl felt so oppressive under the night sky. The moon light seemed tainted with the flickering torch and bonfire light of the camp, the refreshing air foul from the scent of sweat, and the calming cleansing peace he often delighted in drowned out by the laughing and talking of men, or horses stamping their hooves, of rattling tent flaps and crackling flame. The night felt of human.


Despite that, Rahl was calm, calmer than he thought he would be. Still the small knife he was trying to slice the food with broke in three places as howls of laughter suddenly rose loud above the cacophony of the other noises, threatening to snap his restraint. He didn't feel like strangling someone. He felt like turning draconic, chomp down on someone's body and shake it until the human become a mangled pile of bones and flesh. Instead his knife broke and shards of metal flew into the night, glinting shortly before going out of sight.


Rahl sighed and poked at the dirt, remembered just in time to not shift his finger to claw to trace on the ground. He rumbled and flipped the human "ration" thing over, longing for some meat and stretching. He felt giddy and ridiculous, half hysteria. He felt like a Drake sulking over something he couldn't get, and it made him angry at the world for no obvious reason.


Rahl wanted to fly. He wanted to stretch his wings and rise high into the moonlit sky, away from the pungent smell of impurity, away from the mind-trying noises of the human camp, away from the fake light into true elevation.


Instead he sat on the ground in his human meat suit, poking at what human passed for food but he saw as cow dropping in the company of two of his kind, no doubt just as uncomfortable as he was. The day's hunt infuriated him with its slow pace and the severe lack of any kind of stealth or strategy for group hunting. The human made as much noise as to alert a worm 10 miles from the road with the formation of a group of men tramping through the forest with no obvious intention other than to scare off the wild life.


The wolf closing in almost made him happy. But between getting away from the human and finally getting some real kill but in human flesh with human tools, he chose the first option. Silently he slunk away after Mahl, restraining himself from torching the camp before he go just out of spite and annoyance.

 

[TerraBooma]

Wyatt was simply too shocked to say anything as Cord walked off into the camp. He hadn't expected hostility for simply being alive, he hadn't even managed to do anything more then freeze during the attack to begin with. Cowardice was something he thought would be frowned at, and he knew he'd be talked about behind his back, but an upfront insult like that was something that was beyond what he expected.


Wyatt frowned, then turned to Lurenna. "Great friend, I can tell we'll get along well." He sighs. "If my "sickness" isn't a big deal to you I'm fine with teaming up." So far Lurenna hadn't been rude to him, compared to the other people he'd met that made her the nicest person he'd met since he showed up at the academy.

 

[Killigrew]

A strong and steady stream of yellow impacted the bark of tree, erupting into a contained spray of gold, splintering from its arching path path. As the scattered droplets settled, they trickled down the bulbous, woody armor and fed the green grass growing all around.


The low chirping of insects and the soft skuttling sound of animals creeping by in the underbrush kept the silence from amplifying the tinkling noise of a man in singular task.


Its hiss, at first potent in its expulsion, faded as the flow ebbed to a drip, and then to cessation.


Sayne raised back up his trousers with a tired grunt. His belt threaded around his waist as his head craned around to look behind him, jostling with the maneuver.


An intermittent howl pierced the night again.


Wolves by the sound of it, a whole pack of them. They were the kind to look for stragglers, for the weak or sickly or alone. Like Franne, sent to the darkness outside their camp. He'd lost track of her during the drinking, laughter and sharing of tales around the campfire.


It was a time for celebration. Their group had the edge on the Teutons and struck down the red hart before the red-clad ones. Venision for supper was their reward, and with any luck the high Teutons would've gone to bed early. In happy relegation, wine from the flask poured into wooden travel cups and passed around. Lord Etrie held out Sayne's for him, and in a lurching strike, Franne had intercepted it and downed it.


The sting in his hand had faded, but the memory made it itch.


She'd been shadow on the outside of the camp. He'd marked the shifting shadow. But somewhere between glancing away and looking back, she'd disappeared.


And when the wolves raised their ruckus into his sleepless lie, well, nature's call had never seemed so pressing.


He'd caught the servant's raised eyebrow as he passed; it seemed there was always someone's eyes on him. But the lifting of a sword and his pointed walk in the opposite direction from where he'd sent Franne would, with any luck, satiate the man's pondering.


Nature's call had been an honest truth, but it wasn't the whole truth. From his now-scented spot by the river, Sayne made his way in circle around the camp, avoiding the rustling brush until he came upon the low rise where he'd last seen her silhouette.


His leather boots were snuffed by a thin carpet of grassy moss. He started up the small hill and heard humming low and foreign. He felt his throat clench as he topped the rise.


It was Franne that was singing behind closed lips, of course. She was fallen back against the trunk of a tree, the quiet sound emanating out. Silvery light of the moon touched a white glow to her raised face.


Sayne came up before her as the tune reached its close, the whispery chill of the night breeze rustling with the coming silence.


He broke it as he dropped the sheathed weapon before her feet.


"Your sword." He said, his demeanor begrudging. "Elise had me bring it for your sake, anyhow."


Sayne's eyes traced the lumps of bark beside her before they slid back to her eyes. His face tightened, and he leaned back on his heels as his arms folded over his chest.


"Are you reflecting on your behavior?" He asked, his eyes narrowing. "For that matter, what possessed you to thieve me of my drink in plain view?"

 

[Sol]

Franne hadn't expected to find Sayne so far out of the comfort of his own tent. So far from the luxury of the camp. So far from his comfort zone. Regardless of what he says he is, she still believed him to be a nobleman. And nobles can barely tolerate being anywhere other than their comfort zone, but her recent travels with him have proven that he, at least, can manage life without being pampered.


No doubt Sayne had heard her humming and possibly even listened as she went about weaving the melody of her family's hymn onto the silent night. The clang and thud of something being dropped broke the short silence that followed her tune. Curiosity bade her open her eyes to see what it was that dropped. For half a heartbeat she was afraid that she failed in keeping Sayne safe by being obedient and staying out of the camp.


What she found was a scabbard with a sword in it. Sayne said that it was Elise who insisted on having the sword smuggled in for her sake. Franne could always count on people around her to look out for her, it felt relaxing. Well relaxing was hard when one was aware that a weak poison coursed through their veins, one that was easy enough to counteract yet impossible to counteract due to present circumstance.


A short silence followed then a question escaped Sayne's lips.


"Me? Reflecting on what I have done? No. That isn't it. Though I am reflecting on what will happen in the next few days, specifically to me. I am sure even you noticed that your drink smelled off. Let me tell you that poison, regardless of severity, mixed with wine, regardless of how old, will always taste like vintage wine. The poison gives it flavor, milord."


She had had several days to reflect on just how Sayne really viewed her. After all, since meeting with the Grand Master himself, she had not many chances to see Sayne after that brazen act in the hallways of Virlun's keep. Franne could even go as far as saying that Sayne was avoiding her. The reflection bore no fruit and the cautious voice in her insisted that she do not overstep her boundaries again. Nobility will never take interest in the commonfolk, regardless of whether or not the commoner in question was heiress to a fortune of a small kingdom and honored bloodline from another, forgotten part of the world.


She called him "milord" rather than "Sayne" Like she used to, all those days back.

 

[Terragon]

Arr'muhil hadn't slept for that past day. The vision of that executed knight still troubled him. What exactly did that man encounter in this forsaken forest that got him so spooked? He tried express his troubles to his kin but they either didn't hear him or they thought nothing of it."Going into this forest after what that Knight said is a really stupid idea."He muttered to himself. Armel was able to catch the scent of the wolves nearly minutes before the attack.


"Really? Was it really the wolves that scared him? No...even with a large pack they wouldn't dare try to attack a human camp, especially with dragons among them. It would be suicide."


He grabbed his sword and grimaced at it."Since this is a life and death situation I should probably just go into my natural form to scare them off. But then that might cause an even bigger ruckus. Whatever, even in this form I am much stronger and faster than an average human."


When he heard Mal state her intentions to sneak away from the camp he shook his head.


"You two do what you need to do. I will stay back here and have a little fun."Armel said while unsheathing his used, rusted, beaten sword and walked outside of the tent.


It was utter chaos. One human was already bit, and there were sounds of humans shouting mixed in with howling and growls of the wild pack. All he had to do was walk ten paces forward and he already saw four pairs of yellow eyes gazing at him. These wolves almost immediately can tell that this was not a normal human that stood before them, but something much more menacing in disguise. Three of them started to whimper and take a few paces back while their supposed leader of this group stepped forward and let out a growl.


Armel tilted his head to the side and grinned at this amusing sight."A tough guy huh? Come on then, what are you waiting for?"





Almost immediately the beast lunged at his neck, but Armel's reflexes kicked in and he side stepped the first attack. The beast lunged at his throat again but to its surprise Armel flipped and slammed the beast on its back, then stomped in its head until it's neck snapped. By the time the dragon gazed at the rest of the small pack they already scattered off in different directions.


Armel shrugged and started to walk toward the rest of the chaos in almost a relaxed posture. He whistled as loud as he can to let the humans know of his presence. "It seems like you all are in a bit of a mess! Anything I can do for you?!"