Fantasy Terryal: The First Age of Man

[Erica]

The group began to gather again in short order, although the young fox girl hadn’t arrived yet. Aesriel brushed down the horses, smiling at her fortune. She had only knoticed the couple by chance, arguing over whether to spend all their money on a sea voyage or risk bringing their children over land to the next refuge camp. She played with the children for a moment, showing them minor tricks to keep them focused on anything but their parents’ heated discussion. Eventually she offered the couple what she felt was sound advice: sell her the horses and venture to the Western Isles. Aesri had spent her youth there and could honestly recommend it. Of course, her suggestion wasn’t completely altruistic: they would need coin for the trip - spots on the few ships leaving were hard to come by - and she needed the horses. But she didn’t feel guilty. Those children would probably fare better in the Western Isles, and few horses would suffer a sea voyage well.


Airrow paused his preparations to offer them wine. Aesri raised an eyebrow at that; not that it was wholly unheard of, but still. Considering Yurt’s state upon their first encounter, it might not be advisable. But as she stepped forward, so did the timid woman. She seemed more than nervous, her eyes darting to her fiancé and back as she seemed to stumble over what she was saying.


Aesriel’s eyes narrowed. Perhaps the woman was still shaken from everything that happened. But why wasn’t her sweetheart comforting her if so?


The thought was interrupted by the arrival of Amraz and Ruger in short order. Amraz had made a point to get supplies for everyone. That surprised her, which in turn caused her to blush at her rudness. Why should that surprise her? Because he happened to be a bestia? Well, yes. That was the reason. She hadn’t encountered them much, but the few bestia mercenaries she had worked with were particularly nasty, perhaps because that was what the world expected of them. Of course, Amraz was suggesting they all be ready to gut someone.


Aesriel looked at Amraz with a small smile. There was no time like the present to try to at least make peace. “We’ll be on our guard. Thank you for getting the other supplies.” She didn’t take one of the knives, however. Blades weren’t generally her weapons of choice and she was honestly still a little nervous around the tiger-man.


She nodded at Yurt with a smile as she stepped beside Airrow and the wine. Just then, Ruger stumbled directly into the nervous woman. Suddenly he seemed to think he knew her, presumably from the North. It was clear to anyone with eyes that Fae was not a Northern woman. Aesriel’s gaze slid to Fox, trying to assess if there was going to be a fight.


“He’s certainly… boisterous,” she said quietly, nodding toward Ruger with a guarded smile for Airrow. Meanwhile, she was already thinking of the quickest and least damaging way to break up a fight. Maybe an earthen wall?

 

[Silver Lion Coalition]

It seemed that everyone was using their money to buy supplies for the upcoming journey, but Kalhalar could only stare at his payment. It seemed to him that the others were already getting what needed to possibly be got from this ruined city. He was luckily saved from going out by Airrow, who asked him to watch his horse as he searched the cellar for more supplies. Reaching into his basket, Kalhalar pulled out a carrot and fed it to the horse. He looked up as the Sage came in with a few horses, surprised that anyone was willing to part with them. Now they wouldn’t have to carry all of their supplies. Still, he wondered how well the horses would do on the trip over the mountains.


Kalhalar’s attention turned to Airrow as he climbed out of the cellar, bringing some supplies up with him. Kalhalar made his way over to where Airrow put the wine, intending to have a sip, when he was distracted by the large bestia coming in with yet more supplies. They would definitely stay warm through the winter; some of them would, at least. Once Amras put down the knives, Kalhalar stepped forward, grabbed a knife, and put it in his basket.


He turned to see the couple of the group having a conversation, but he quickly went back to the wine, having a drink before seeing the woman walk up to Airrow. It seemed that the man had gotten even more supplies. Hopefully they now had enough food for the journey. Seeing him nearby, Kalhalar walked up to him.


“Here, take this,” he said, giving his payment to the man, “I wouldn’t know what to get or where to find it. And I imagine you can get something for her.” He gestured towards the man’s fiancé, “Either way, I have no use of it.” With that, he walked back to the wine to have another drink of his bottle, almost oblivious of what happened between Ruger and the lady.

 

[Haley]

Standing inside the few milliseconds of waiting for Air to answer her felt like years. She pursed her pink lips together in anticipation but just as she felt she may just turn and walk away, she was suddenly grabbed by her shoulders and forced to face the loud Northerner by the name of Ruger. Her blue eyes widened and her lips slightly parted in a small gasp. Did he call her Tryne? She blinked a few times as she searched for the correct words to say.


"I-uh t-think you got the wrong gal, buddy!" She breathed, staring into the face of the bold man. She attempted a small look over her shoulder at Fox to see if he as about to pop up and cause trouble but found it difficult to take hr attention away from the man holding her and declaring her a dream. For a moment she wondered if all Southern ladies looked like beat up prostitutes, then decided that that was rude thought and assumed that he was instead, just once in love with a prostitute. Faelynn's hands that were once clasped together, now clung to the tattered cloth at her almost exposed chest and for the first time in a long time she wanted nothing more than to disappear into the folds of her dress rather than put her good on display as she used to. "I-I'm assuming you didn't visit the Cloud Nine often while in Zeypher, hm?" She added with a small nervous chuckle.


Fox, who was watching from across the room, narrowed his eyes as he watched Faelynn immediately approach Airrow Airs. He sighed, it seems that he would have to do away with her a lot sooner than he hoped, oh well, this wasn't the first dame he's killed and surely, this wouldn't be the last. Before he could properly come up with a way to secretly get rid of her before the trip set off without any suspicion, a man a approached him. He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth but was cut short when his coin satchel landed in his hand. He closed his mouth and looked at the man with long black hair. "I-uh... thank you?" He said as he clasped his hand around the satchel and placed it in his trouser pockets. He wasn't the type to question a good thing. When the man said something about getting something for Faelynn he almost scoffed but caught himself and gave a smile. "Of course, thank you! My Fiance and I appreciate this very much!" he clapped the man firmly on the shoulder before his attention was suddenly thrown over to the sound of a loud man and Faelynn. His jaw tensed and he caught his feet moving before his mind new what was going on. Was she seeking sudden help? Did someone know what was going on? Was the party over? He placed the arm with the hidden blade behind his back and gave a more concerned look as he approached. If Faelynn was faking the shocked expression across her face well then she was good, of course faking it was what she used to do for a living so he wouldn't be giving the benefit of the doubt just yet. He felt the dagger slide from his holding place only to the edge of his sleeve and gave the Northerner a small, friendly smile.


"Is there a problem here? Has my fiance wronged you in some way sir? She is quite clumsy and I'll gladly apologize on her behalf." He spoke, the smile on his face growing tighter with every word. No matter the situation, his hands were certainly on his merchandise and if anyone was going to be throwing the fragile box around it was going to be this delivery man and no one else. He waited with an air of patience, ready to slash or stab anyone near him should it become necessary, even Faelynn, should she say the wrong thing. He looked down at her, his smile vanishing.


Faelynn, felt the air leave her lungs the moment she felt his presence approach her side. She looked up at his unamused but "concerned" face with wide eyes. "Oh, it's nothing to really worry abut- I- uh, he- he has mistaken me for someone I am most certainly not and we're just discussing it." She said, swallowing hard and giving both the northerner, Fox and every other eye on them a reassuring smile and nod.


"Is that so?" Fox asked stiffly, looking between the two.

 

[Humor]

The flicking and snapping of flame stained over the orchestra of each persons aria of solace as they frantically set about in a chaotic motion to escape their coming cataclysm. Leo's eyes had moved to the sky as the blue itself was lit a blaze with the cardinal red of war. The red that once enveloped the sky began to envelop and stain his pupils as the vision of the falling aeon descended upon the city.


"RUN!" A female had cried out as the people around him surged. The soft feel of the hand he held slid from his finger tips with a sudden blow to his shoulder as Mhara disappeared into the crowd. Leo's feet finally began to move as his arms pushed and split between the people to find his companion. A loud crackle shook and broke the earth as a burst of pressure pressed against Leo's back as his boots kicked forward from the force. stammering to gain his balance his eyes rattled within his head as his vision began to vibrate. Every blink turned into a fuzzy picture that overtook his vision till the next blink. Everything was in real time but all he could remember were the standalone's of every new take of light through his pupils. With each several steps his head would swish back to the place, The tips of his hair tickling his cheeks in forehead as the swayed with momentum from the jerks back and forth. Never seeing what was behind him in a futile attempt to understand what was happening. A giant monster stood from its impact zone as people screamed as the fires bellowed and howled around them.


"hhhhuhhhh" the sound of Leo's labored breathing deafened the noise around him. The thick dry air clung to his mouth and throat like porridge as it slid down to his lungs and filled them with the vile sludge that was the air. His heart beat raced his legs locking in protest of moving the crowd continuing to run from the epicenter of calamity. No one man caring for who they strike in their pursuit of safety. Slamming against his back Leo propelled forward. like in slow motion he watched the swirl of people around them. Their faces hazy and blurry with a hard smack he fell against the floor sliding a few inches as his mind went blank to do on the actions. The crunch and sting of pain echoed up his hand as the heel of a boot crashed against it. The pain snapped him from his vexation with quick and ease of determination Leo took to his feet. With a spin on his heel he turned towards the large monster that seemed a great distance away. The daze of his walk had led him in the way of safety. The edges of the young boys mouth curled into a smile as his eyes locked onto the beast.


I am a hero.





His hand with a light shake took to the soft leather wrap of his blade and forcing his hand closed his fingers took around it. The blade sung its hymn of its master as the sheath tried with all its might to hold fast to the blade like a couple in love that must now depart. Leo shook his other hand free of the pain.


"Hhhhuhhhhh..." Leo breathed in the miasma of air as the ash of the burning buildings around began to tingle against his nostrils. His eyes burning from the dry heat around him as he blinked his body forced out a tear from the ducts of each eye that streaked down his lightly soot covered face leaving a clean trail of his peach skin.


His toes pressed against the sweated tip of his boot as his heel lifted. Shooting off with great determination and stride Leo bounced through the crowd down towards the giant monster.


I can do this... I'm invincible nothing can ever beat me.


I'm... the... Best...


"Plamene pohlcuje vietor!" The words echoed and flickered in the young boys head like the flames that came with them.


The world was empty of sound the boy staggered with each slow and heavy step. His face powdered with black from the pyroclasm of the city. Streaks of lighter areas in the soot stemmed from below his eyes as trails of what once were tears cleaned away the peppered face.


The young boy could be seen through the haze of the torches from camp that held low lit fires.


"HHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhghhhhh" His dehydrated throat cracked with his hoarse breath.


Leo continued his blind journey through the camp as his vision had been lost to him. As the pictures in his head of what had just happened filled his mind. The low light speckled onto the black canvas of his vision as though his ailment was just temporary.


The sound of voices began to become audible in his ears. Leo's head swiveled loosely on his neck trying to pinpoint the sounds.


With each step came another shrilled breath. Leo's arm felt warm with a tickle of cold. A large wooden spike of debris split through his skin and arm staining his left bicep in a soup of red. His limp fingers acted like the edge of a waterfall as each drop trickled from it.

 

[Original Hylion]

With a bottle in hand, Airrow gently tipped the glass back, letting the liquid crawl into his mouth and down his throat, burning everything as it went. Airrow would admit if asked, he detests alcoholic drinks, as most tasted terrible. It only tasted good when it could not be tasted anymore, and afterwards it left the victim groggy, disoriented, and sometime slightly stupider. Airrow honestly preferred, if obtainable, fresh milk. He had a distaste for alcoholics and an even heavier disgust for hard liquors. He remembered, as a young man, he would often drink fresh milk or cider, here at the Airs estate. When at higher establishments, such as meetings or banquets, Airrow would settle with drinking wine, simply to keep from making a fool of himself. His mother was the person who had such a large taste for wine, this collection was most likely hers. Any other time, if he could not acquire cider or milk, he would surrender to drinking some low alcohol mead. It was sad that water was not a suitable drink, Airrow felt, possibly, he could settle with it when completely tasteless. Water could not be easily purified, so more often than not, it made people sick.


Airrow rose his head to see the great bestia arrive once more and make his place beside him. It seemed, just as well as the sage, the bestia was capable of acquiring some more materials from the shambles left of Zephyr. Airrow would guess the people were more or less intimidated by the bestia, walking about with a sword with a horse oft used to replace oxen. For the most part, Airrow kept his worry low, as long as the bestia was with the party, he would not be arrested under any suspicion or any accusations. The bestia seemed to have acquired the most items, and had arrived in Zephyr with some supplies. The bestia, Amras, seemed quite content with showing Airrow everything he had collected, and explaining the reasoning behind his purchases. The blankets would be much appreciated, the mountainous trail would be cold, especially with the oncoming season. As for the horses, Airrow did not want to comment much, quite possibly, they would have to part ways with the horses when they arrived in the mountains. The roads there were not once for creatures like them. The food was nice, better than the dried rations Airrow had garnered.


"You can decide on dividing your food yourself, give them to who you please as you please, or keep to yourself. I will not command you to be generous." Then on the comment of the water. "We can water down the wine then, it'll make for more extra bottle though. I fear the water may be tainted some, though I am surprised you came across any water in the first place. We'll keep some in case of emergency." If anything, they should give out the water to the civilians, they could use some water.


As for the knives, Airrow plucked one up and rubbed his thumb against the blade. It was somewhat dull, though expected, since whomever parted from these made them in mass production. They would do good as tools, but Airrow did not see a large amount of use from them during battle. Airrow rubbed his chin, he could do with a shave.


"I brought some extra swords," Airrow pointed to the spathas, "we give those guys to new recruits when they joined the Wolves. Giving a man a sword oft means they are given a title. People do love titles." He patted the bestia's shoulder, "Raz, correct? Have a drink, we'll be leaving shortly."


Airrow then turned his attention towards Fae, as she approached with her own bag of supplies. More food, and some extra supplies. Airrow found himself surprised how people took his giving of money wrong. He had intended for them to buy what they pleased for themselves, not to buy and give to Airrow to sort. "Gramarcy, Fae. Do as you please with them." He nodded then gestured to the drinks before him, "Have some, please." She was going on about something, but she spoke very cautiously, and Airrow found it difficult to understand, even more difficult when Ruger came around and returned all the coin.


"Verily, sirrah, I will do so." Northerners were odd folk. Airrow tapped Kalhalar's shoulder, when he sat back down to drink, and handed him the envelope, "Put this in your basket, now, before you forget to."


Airrow turned his attention back to Ruger and Fae, whom had then began speaking to one another; although, it seemed the conversation was one sided. Airrow definitely was not sure what was going on, but it seemed to be sorting itself out. Airrow would interrupt momentarily, for the moment, a drink and show would not be unwelcomed.


The sage placed herself amongst those sitting around the drinks. She seemed to be the most calmed and nonchalant of the group, Airrow found it amusing. She was right, Ruger was quite outgoing and blunt, if anything, he would be the perfect knight. Airrow stood himself up and handed the sage the lightened bottle of wine. "Mind finishing this for me? Soft lips are oft better when moistened."


Airrow dusted himself off and straightened his outfit, keeping a steadiness about him. He felt a tad but more rested, but was still obviously tired. It was time to be leader again, and perhaps it was time to begin moving. Airrow started towards the three, Ruger, Fae, and Fox. He placed himself at their sides then stepped between all of them, placing a gentle hand on each of their shoulders.


"Good man, Ruger, prithee calm. This gentle lady here is Faelyn of Cloud Nine. I am sorry to disappoint, but she is not this Tryne you seek. And now, I bid each of you, calm and gather your supplies, we begin out march." Airrow turned to the rest of the group. "Well then, everyone, shall we move out while we have air in our lungs. Our destination, first of all, is the mountainous road to Yrgen territory. Put the supplies on the horses, first off, It'll keep a steady pace between each of us."


Airrow nodded to them, a bright smile flashing to each of them. He went over to Aesriel the sage, and quickly ripped the bottle from her hand to take one last swill. He gently gave it back and smiled to the woman. "Words can be used to calm, same as any other method, Ms. Fletcher, or is it Mrs?"


Airrow began towards his horse, intending on taking the reigns and leading the small caravan east to the mountains, but paused when he saw the young miss hybridia shivering in her spot. His brow tilted, finding some discomfort. Of course, everyone was troubled, but as far as to be possibly left behind, he would not allow. Airrow went to the young ma'am and swept her from her feet. He carried her over to his horse and placed her on the saddle, letting her ride for the time being.


"Small legs oft mean more effort when walking, this will help you stay with us, as well do keep a sharp eye out, Much of us have lost eye sight with age, your eyes are young, do tell if something suspicious appears in any yonder distance." Airrow smiled to the group one last time. "Alright, let's go! Follow me, I'll lead the way." He started forward, pulling his horse's reign and began towards the edge of the camps.


As they walked along the edge of the camp, some refugees and children, some Wolves and volunteers, waved to the caravan as they passed. On occasion, a women or a child would hand one of the members a flower. The belief of return was slim. Airrow stopped the troop when they came across a small gathering of monks. They seemed to be working on a boy whom had collapsed on the floor.


"Greetings, I beseech you, do tell what problems the boy." Airrow asked the monks.


"Water, have you any, he is in desperate need. He survived within the city boundaries, but his lungs dry and perish."


Airrow peered at the boy, blond and pale, but his skin was tan, a boy from the western isles. "Raz, the water belongs to you. The choice is yours." Airrow patted his horse before slowly nudging the horse forward. "Be quick, our time lessens." Of course, he would not leave them behind, but he would at least intensify the matter.

 

[Ineffectivd]

Ruger refused to believe anything that wasn't his own intuition. This lady here had that same look that his friend had. Of tired resignation. Surely this wasn't some coincidence. No two persons could have such similarities. Reluctantly, Ruger loosened his grip on her shoulders and took a step back to look her over once more. Her clothing was in tatters, revealing much of her stature. Ruger stayed his words for a bit longer, in spite of the arrival of the other man who claimed this woman to be his fiancee, his eyes scanning every speck of dirt and pore on the lady. It seemed as if he hadn't heard the man or Airrow who had approached them at all, until he furrowed his brow.


"This is to be wife of yours, man?" Ruger asked quietly, pulled his gloves tighter and gripped his sheathe, as if to draw his sword. His other hand, though, fell limp next to him, inactive. He didn't speak for a second more, as if to register what emotions flitted across the man's face. In all his years, never had he met such a consummate liar. His tone, the fall of the corner of his lips and the panic that lit up in the lady's eyes told Ruger all he needed to. "Then you would be wanting to take care better of gorgeous beauty like her. Better clothing and jewelerying, yes?" He paused again, then suddenly burst out laughing loudly, a deafening and hearty one. "Har har har har har! Cannot afford gems of precious, eh? No need to do the worrying, after we kill Crimston, we have lots more money, and you can get pretty lady better dress than just scrap." He took Faelynn's hand in a soft hold in his gloves and kissed the back of it and let her hand slide away, beforr bowing and turning around.


Her hand was soft. No callouses, no marks upon it. She had not held a sword in years. No, she had never handled a blade that belonged to the noble knight Tryne. Ruger felt as if he had a sword dig into his heart. All his friends, all his comrades were dead men and women. He prayed fervently, silently, in his heart that these people would not face the same end as they. Had he cursed them by joining their cause? He cast a look at the ragtag bunch of misfits, all mercenaries, wanderers and a child. His left han gripped the sheathe tight, his knuckles turning white under the leather. Ruger exhaled and continued walking alongside Airrow as they began their march.

 

[EliCarter]

Mhara Sacrina





Mhara was quiet, for a time, lost in her own thoughts, staring down at her feet, allowing the negativity her brain was breeding to encompass her complete attention. She was snapped out of it when strong arms lifted her off the ground, causing her to let out a quiet squeak of dismay, as the man, Airrow, carried her to his horse and sat her on the saddle. She flushed, clutching the hem of her tattered skirts with shaking hands, staring at the ground as he spoke to her.


"Aye. I will keep an eye out, t-thank you for letting me on your horse," she said softly, continuing to rub her thumb along the ruined fabric of her dress.


As they began to move, fear began to set in, there was no sign of Leo and as the Wolves and citizens waved, there was an impending sense of sadness in their movements... as if they thought the small rag-tag team wasn't going to come back...


They weren't impressive looking, Mhara could tell, in fact, she'd say the most impressive looking was Amras, a large bestia, rippling with muscles and power, he made her nervous. Almost as nervous as the Ruger man had, when he talked strangely of her father, who she was sure he didn't know.


Suddenly the horse stopped, Mhara blinked, pulling herself free of her own thoughts and peering curiously at what the monks were doing she then screamed.





"LEO!" she shrieked, she didn't even remember stumbling off the horse, but she was at Leo's side regardless. Eyes taking in the injury and beating that he had taken, it's physical evidence covering his body. Warm tears began to fall down her cheeks as his eyes didn't open at the sound of her voice, she knew in the state of Zephyr right now, there would be no medicine available to help him, and that injuries this serious could surely finish him off.





"You IDIOT, you were supposed to RUN," she sputtered, clenching her fists tightly, her teeth bared as she repressed a sob, she turned to Amras, reaching out towards him before pulling her fist back, "Please, please let him drink...help him... don't let him die..." she choked, clutching onto her soot-ridden tail and kneading it in between her fingers, as her shoulders shook, driving her knees further into the dirt.

 

[Kaine]

Even though he had brought and bought supplies for others it was as if most everyone bought for themselves. Amras knew within the first few days of travel, those would emerge who were simply here for revenge and who was willed enough to endeavor a quest of this magnitude. He figured the young hybridia, the priestess’ and the love birds would all abandon airs in time. None of them really appeared to be material to last. It may have not seemed like it but Amras had been paying close attention to them all. Ruger, while seemingly more ignorant than Raz himself in speech was rather intriguing to listen to but his speech also confused the beastia at times. A few of the women and one, a Diuris, seemed particularly interesting. For now, they surely had all their bases covered for skills. The Prvok user thanked him and he tilted his head to her, bowing slightly out of respect.


The lovers though; something was clearly off with them. The woman had that look. Scared to death of her man. Others would not know of that look, but Amras knew of it all too well. It was the face of fear, down to her very soul; the fright of a small child fearing a human sized tiger, or the last whip of air from a man's lung as a tiger ripped out his throat. The instance of fear when you know that you may not get away this time. Raz would of normally taken the man’s throat in hand and threatened him as well as the woman to give him answers but this was neither the time nor place for such actions. He knew that Airs would disapprove of unneeded violence and that was simply Amras seeking his own justice for those he felt he should judge. But they would be in the forest before long. Accidents always happen and go unnoticed in the forest. A quiver in his upper lip flashed his large animal incisor for just a moment before his attention shifted to their quest leader.


The supplies he would leave there. If no one else took them, he knew the people of Zephyr would surely find a use. He had no further use for supplies.


The beastia kind of grunted lightly at Airs comment about buying blades. Surely the man didn’t think Raz bought those toothpicks for weapons? They were simply encase a situation should arise where a sword was too big, but smaller weapons may have been removed. Kind of like an assassins hidden blade. Always in shadows just looking for a reason to slice. Like sticking that man Fox in the throat if his hands got a little touchy on the lady. Amras shifted his head to the left, fast like, and an audible crack could be heard from his neck. Airrow’s hand patted his shoulder and Raz accepted his comment.


“Correct.” Raz replied


He had taken a couple bottles of wine and fixed them within his satchel as per Airrows request of him. He wasn’t much fond of wine but apparently humes were not so fond of water like him. The Tiger was double checking his own supplies and listening carefully to those around him. His ear turned a few degrees to Face Ruger, Airrow and Fae. He overheard mention of Cloud Nine and Tryne and not knowing of what any of these were. A snort escape.


In the nonsense of everyones rants and conversations, the sounds of another walking up and breathing hard caught the beastia’s attention. His body turned slightly to see a small boy, barely into puberty covered in soot and blood; his own blood, with a fairly large tree sliver piercing his arm. Turning back, his hands fumbled within his satchel. A few pots clanked together as he casually pulled out his smallest one. It was actually more like a cup. Raz used it cause it made him feel more civilized then lapping up water from a stream. Still without turning around yet, let his newly acquired water drain, soaking his hands and filling the cup to past the rim. He listened as the Fox girl shrieked and called him Leo. She pleaded for some water.


“Aye. Sir Airs, Dis water here be yers as much as it be mah own.” He said calmly, turning around with a mug sized cup in hand. The water spilled over slightly as he took a few steps to meet Mhara’s hand. His free hand came out and gripped Mhara’s wrist slightly, turning it and placing the cup in her palm for her to take. Releasing both of his hands. If she was so close to this boy, then surely he would be more calm with her helping him first. He knelt down next to Mhara and Leo. Carefully eye balling the wound in his arm. Gently he wrapped his entire hand a few inches under the wound to steady and better look at it. Though his hand now firmly gripped the boys arm.


“Hmm, Dis wound not nearly so bad as some I seen bafore.” Raz spoke calmly. Scratching his chin for a second, and before anyone could react, he reached up with his other hand, gripping the wood shard fiercely and simply pulled it out. He let go of the boy quickly knowing that the pain would likely cause him to lash out. He also took a step back to avoid the girl. From here, he dropped the shard on the ground and turned back to his horse.


Amras spoke to Mhara turning only his head so she would hear him clearly; his ear also shifting to hear anything she had to say, “It had ta come out, bedder now den after. Or whole arm woulda come off. Not purdy after dat.”


Fumbling through his bag he found a roll of clean thin linen he often used. It was cheap and kept wounds from festering. However, he only knew how to treat himself. He doubted licking a wound on another would work quite as well as it did on him. Turning, he tossed the linen roll to Mhara and set his gaze upon their quest leader.


“Sir Airrow, Git on ahead and lead. It not require entire company ta patch dis lad up. I’ll grab ah spare pony. Dese two tots should seat nicely on Scaviin.” He waved him on only to realize he had some of the child’s blood on his hand from where he had grabbed his arm to steady. After a few licks his hand was right as ready and his eyes dropped back down to Mhara and Leo and his hand on the pouch for water. He flicked it a few times suggesting Mhara use it if she needed more water for the lad.

 

[Sol]

Yurt had most likely spent too much time reflecting on just what it is he would be doing when they do reach North. This wasn't just an endeavor he could join half-heartedly. This was something that would demand him to see it through to the end regardless of his companions and their decisions. It also taught him that he could never escape his past, he would have to assume that Razaranje would still be charitable to one of his own more "outstanding" champions in the North. However, running away was generally unacceptable to any of the deities that roam the North however they please.


He stood up from his seated position and began to stretch his legs at the order coming from Airrow that they were about to depart soon. As much as he would wish to do the same as everyone else and purchase supplies now, he doubted that the Zephyrians would be welcoming to him. He had a better chance to acquire higher quality goods at a cheaper price in Yrgen. Yurt was not a stranger to the place as Syracuse and the rest from his old town brought him there from time to time to teach him a few pointers in the trade of being a trader. Yrgen was a melting pot of sorts being at the crossroads of a few nations in the South. It didn't really matter much that the city had a stick up its ass and one that the people take pains to make sure it stays in there. Besides, Yrgen wasn't a smoldering ruin either.


There were still a few problems that needed sorting out but the most glaring of all was getting another arm. He couldn't rely on anyone else nor could he stand to. Even during the hunt he was itching to fight but found himself lacking. It was a scary thought, though he could always curse his entire bloodline for the sake of an arm. He pushed the thought out of his head, he would deal with it when he had to.


Yurt wondered if it was wise to take one last stroll of the refugee camp and take in the stares and glares of the people. He wandered around in a small radius near his original position. A few familiar faces could be seen talking among each other and few more he didn't recognize, he only knew them as part of the company that was to head North. Yurt didn't want to jump in their conversations, he wasn't exactly in the mood to speak adhering to the "silent" part of his name.

 

[Haley]

Fox was ready, who was he ever so ready to give Faelynn the quick stab to her spine she deserved and cut out before anyone could land a hand on him. He was so close too, his hand was resting on her lower back and the blade was barely poking out from under his sleeve, just enough so that she would notice it there. When he caught the Rugar man pull away and place his hand on his sword. he dug his hidden blade a little more into her back, only enough to coax a small gasp from her. Then that Airrow guy came and diffused the tension with a friendly hand placed on each of their shoulder. Suddenly the hidden place was put completely away and his Fox moved his hand up to grip Faelynn's shoulder affectionately. He paid no attention to anyone else as he guided the shaken Fae from the scene and to a horse. His face was stiff and his lips were pursed tightly. He didn't care to answer the loud Northerner when he questioned their money and relationship status. So far, to Fox it seemed he would have to cut out from this group a lot sooner than he originally planned and it wasn't even Fox's fault!


As soon as they reached a spare horse, Fox turned to Faelynn and grabbed her harder than what was necessary and lifted her onto the horse. She winced and gasped as she made herself comfortable but said nothing. She gripped the reins and looked down at the horses mane, keeping to herself, but Fox was still angry.


"You and your big mouth is messing up a lot of money for me." He whispered angrily, leaning in close to the side of Fae's thigh so that she'd be able to hear him better and hopefully no one else. "For the rest of this trip you shut it, or I will for you." He hissed, but in his mind he was already planning a quick way to kill her and leave her. He'd have to make it look like an accident, come up with some sob story, should they believe him he'd stick with them for awhile until he got to Byzantine then, he'd be able to find another woman to quickly steal and give to the man, then he'd charge him extra for the trouble.


Faelynn's jaw tensed. She could hear him clearly as he mumbled close to her. His face made it look like he was whispering sweet things to her to calm her down but his words were sinister. She bit down on her lip and took a deep breath, nodding in response to his threat. Well, so far she'd made things worse without even meaning too. He'd come way too close to ending it there. Should something had gone south back there, then she would have been dead. She'd have to be way more careful. Perhaps whenever they stopped next she'd be able to run, surely the Northerner would be willing to help should she awaken him in the middle of the night. As she began to plan she started to feel a bit of hope, she'd make it, for once this prostitute felt that maybe things were going to work out and she'd make it out of this and start a new life somewhere else, starting with helping Airrow Airs defeat this giant Monster-God-thing. She almost lost herself in her daydreams when she was suddenly interrupted from them by a scream breaking out. It was the young hybridia girl, Mhara. She had leaped down from her horse and was leaning over something that was surrounded by monks, she was screaming for water and, before Faelynn could force herself into action, Fox's firm hand on her calf stopped her along with the sight of the Beastia male, aiding her with his own water.


Faelynn hadn't heard what she screamed but now, as she adjusted her angle of sight from atop the horse she could see the familiar face of Mhara's little boyfriend, Leo. Fae lifted her hand to her lips and watched as the Beastia male, forced some water between the boy's lips and Mhara cried. "Oh, please don't let him be dead." Faelynn prayed to anything that would listen and watched as Mhara cradled her young love's body.

 

[Silver Lion Coalition]

The man had smiled and accepted his money. This pleased Kalhalar, as now the load was off his hands, and he wouldn’t accidentally buy anything foolish or unneeded. Looking at his basket, though, he contemplated on how he had actually enjoyed quite a few of his past purchases. Ah, well. What’s done was done, and there was nothing he could do about it. Kalhalar looked towards the man as he made his way to where his fiancé and Ruger were standing and speaking. Their conversation did not seem like a casual one, and Kalhalar suddenly worried about a fight happening. He was considering leaving to avoid whatever would happen when Airrow tapped him on the shoulder and handed him an envelope, asking him not to forget to put it in his basket.


“Hmmm? Forget?” Kalhalar asked, “What makes you think I would forget? Don’t worry, friend, I won’t forget.” When he saw Airrow go to calm the tension and announce that the beginning of their journey was at hand, he moved to tie the rest of the supplies onto the horses in the event that everyone else would forget to. As the group began to leave, Kalhalar took his place at the back of the group. He wasn’t sure when or if he would be back, and a part of him still wondered if it held that which he searched for; but there was no turning back now.


As he walked along, a flower was handed to him. He accepted it with thanks, and continued to walk as he studied the features of it. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him: he had forgotten to put the envelope in his basket! He couldn’t find it on his body as he searched for it, either. Just as he was about to run back to grab it, he was distracted by a group of monks surrounding a boy. Straining his ears, he found out that the boy was in desperate need of water. Soon, the bestia and the hybridia had rushed to the boy’s side, with the bestia bringing along water. It seemed that the two children were close, as the girl was crying over the boy’s body. He could imagine being in her situation. If someone he cared about had been as hurt as the boy was… Kalhalar stopped, choosing to see how this would turn out. He hoped that water was all that the boy needed, and that the monks could take care of the rest. He took a few steps to get a better look at the situation, but choosing not to get too close, as he didn’t want to get in the way.

 

[Erica]

Aesriel had been quietly weighing the benefits of an earthen wall verses loosening the earth beneath their feet as methods of preventing a fight when Airrow handed her a bottle and said something about soft lips. She took the offered bottle mostly on instinct and looked at him curiously. He had the situation in hand, apparently, and demonstrated immediately that he was used to leading despite his youth. Aesriel took a small sip from the bottle while he defused the situation and started issuing orders. When he returned and reclaimed the bottle, she nearly chuckled at his proclamation. She wasn't certain if he was offering a lesson or bragging about his ability to resolve the conflict with words alone. “Words are the strength of any teacher,” she replied. “And it’s ‘Miss’.” She began moving almost immediately along with the others, hoping to cover up the light blush inspired by his question. Usually men only asked that for one reason, but she didn’t want to assume. He was a leader, and he could be feeling out whether there was a husband to contact should she die on the journey. Still, his treatment of M’hara made her smile: she often judged others by how they behaved toward children.


Taking one last drink she then passed the bottle onto the next person to finish; she wanted to keep her wits about her as they began the journey. She watched Fox help his fiancée - Faelynn, Airrow had called her - onto one of the spare horses with mild curiosity. Faelynn seemed cowed, which didn’t fit with the reputation of the women at Cloud Nine. Not that Aesri had ever visited the brothel, but she had heard the ladies there could bring men pleasure and pain in equal measure and thus no patron got away with any unsanctioned behavior. This woman didn't seem to fit that reputation. She didn’t behave as one in love, either, even though her sweetheart was clearly possessive of her. Maybe because he was too possessive. Eventually she looked away: it wasn’t any of her business.


As they moved slowly through the crowd, the sight of the refuges overwhelmed Aesriel: especially the children. The great city of Zephyr lay in ruins and even the crowded makeshift camp told a story of so much loss. It was etched into every countenance and burned into the buildings and streets. She gravitated toward the children, taking a few flowers along the way and offering gentle smiles. Then she heard M’hara’s cry and pulled her horse up short.


The warrior boy was hurt badly enough that the monks were tending to him. Airrow left the distribution of water up to the bestia. On some level, she understood the pragmatic comment that they didn’t have much time. Still she frowned. She knew this boy - or at least had tried and failed to help him during the Hunt as Crimston had attacked. While Amras hopped down and gave the boy water, she looked for the priestess. The monks had been tending to the boy, but they were surely taxed in taking care of all the sick and wounded at the camp. So she addressed the priestess quietly as Amras offered to stay with the children so they could continue on. “Will you help him, if you can? He is dear to the girl, and I suspect he’ll be of help to our cause.” She looked at the boy with a sad smile. “He may be rash, but he is a good fighter.”

 

[Ineffectivd]

There was no telling what thoughts boiled under that shock of light brown hair of the Northerner as he stared rather thoughtfully at the ground, as if expecting to suddenly crumble underneath him. He stroked his chin, one arm crossed over his chest, looking all the more like a scholar in armor than a swordsman, had he just had a pair of vision-enchancing lenses. Would his leaving of this town result in the loss of his mark? That girl was surely the companion of the boy. He must be around here somewhere. Ruger, though rather world-weary, still foolishly believed in the power of young love. Why would she leave this place to find him if he weren't here? Should he just take a step back, just to stick around in the crumbling remnants of Zephyr to wait for this boy to come up? Ruger reached into his pocket and pulled out the coin from earlier. It was times like these that he needed to consult the only deity that mattered to him: Lady Luck. Who said money wasn't the most useful thing around? Ruger flipped the coin, his thumb creating a clear 'ping' sound as he did. He watched as the coin descended, turning heads to tails, and then some more, before landing in his palm. He held it up to see the markings, squinti--


"LEO!"


Ruger's armor would have leapt off with his skin had it not been attached to him by the straps. The coin fell onto the floor and rolled away to one side, under Airrow's horse and to the opposite end. "Oh for the loving of the dead!" Ruger cursed and jogged around the horse, searching for his coin. The golden curio rolled towards a small crowd that had gathered, with some monks, the girl Mhara and that tiger beastia tending to a small, diminutive form on the ground. Ruger, very calmly, slipped through the crowd with a few "Excusing me"s and "Pardoning"s.


Lo, at the edge of his coin, lay the boy he was tasked to search for, looking no less worse for wear. Rather, his coin lay at the boy's edge, but wordplay isn't important. Leophaz Ubelblatz. The only name and face he wouldn't be forgetting until he had received his due payment.


"This boy....needs returning to parents." Ruger said slowly, without aim to provoke or insinuate anything. "If possible, when he is stable conditioning, Ruger will carry him back to home sweet home." The warmth that he usually exuded slowly slipped away as his face began to take a serious line. "Ruger do not want to be making the difficulty, but it is, ah, how you say it, impervious? impertinent? imperation? that Ruger bring him back to home safely. For his own saking. Ruger not care how good fighter he is, Ruger care about health and body. Still has many years to live, longer than old Ruger. Very important for him to go home safe."

 

[Original Hylion]

The little hybridia girl was the first to rush to the boy, it seemed, as soon as she could recognize who he was, her heart jumped out to the boy. In a small moment, she was off the horse and at the boys side, pushing the surrounding monks out of the way to cradle the small boy in her arms. It came as a slight surprise to Airrow, but he recalled her saying something about a companion. Well then, this was him then, a little off setting as Airrow had assumed Ruger was this companion and was simply a few seconds late to their original arrivals to him. But here, now it seemed Ruger gave little notice to the boy, or perhaps who the boy was. Ever more pressing, the little girl was throwing a fit over her companion, and of course it was a sad sight, but Airrow lacked any ability to do anything to comfort her. At this, Airrow felt he had perhaps lost the girl as a companion, and in honestly gave an uneasiness, as then one of the sword arms would leave as well. Perhaps something could be done for the boy, the monks asked for water, they did not speak of much else yet.


Airrow adjusted his shoulders, rolling them before he began to march forward again. He heard Amras finally begin rummaging in his belongings in an attempt to provide some water to the boy. Being as things were being taken care of, Airrow attempted to preoccupy himself with pressing on and keeping a sense of urgency of the situation, but nonetheless he heard Amras speaking about something might having to come off. Airrow's worry was peaked, the following comment about letting Amras take care of things forced Airrow to turn and acknowledge them, simply to accept the offer, but when even more members of the party began to pause for the group, well, he could not just go with half his party here. Airrow decided he would wait for the party, being as a good amount of them were concerned for the boy.


He flipped his spear around and stabbed the blade into the ground then looped the horse's reigns over the handle. The horse would at least feel a slight tug when it moved around, the tug alone would be enough to keep it from wandering off. Airrow knew if it was scared it would simply tug the spear from its spot and run off. It did not bother him too much.


He went over to the gathering and stood outside of the pile of people and looked down to the boy in the hybridia's arms. Airrow was no man of great medical knowledge, but he knew the boy was quite beaten. The most he knew was the basics of medical activity after battles, cauterizing a wound, wrapping up a wound, or the quickest way to put a man out of his misery.


"The bone is broken and we can't stop the bleeding. We don't have any extra medical supplies." a monk began explaining.


"Then use magic!" Airrow exclaimed, he could not help himself.


"There's no magic capable of healing this much, you must understand, my lord, zazrack can only do so much."


"Then what is it, what can we do?"


"Amputate, then cauterize."


Airrow's eyes shut, this was cruel.


"We need a strong fire going, Kal, Aesriel, find something that is still burning and maintain it here." Airrow ordered as he opened his eyes placed himself at the boy's side, next to the injured arm. "Ruger, restrain Mhara, please. Raz, bring your sword, I trust your arm has the most force behind it, you'll have to dismember his arm." Airrow drew out his spatha and held it by the blade, pointing the handle to a monk. "Heat up the blade. Fox, bring some wine, we need to clean the wound the best we can. Cyzreala, I don't know if you can, but try to make this as painless as possible for the boy, please."


A bottle of wine was thrown to him, Airrow promptly caught it and opened the bottle. "Someone, give the boy something to bite down on." Airrow took a quick sip of the wine as a monk pressed a stick wrapped in cloth between the boy's teeth. Kal had found some fire and kept it levitating above his hand. Aesriel held the sword above the fire and had the fire lick the sword allover, until the blade was a orange hue. Airrow poured some alcohol on the boy's wound then yelled out the command to Amras. The blade came swinging down, one chop cut a majority of the arm off, the second cut a small excess of skin. Airrow could feel his knees getting wet, as a red puddle began to spread. He poured the alcohol on the wound once more then called for the heated blade. Aesriel handed him the blade hurriedly, Airrow was quick about it, as Cyzreala had the skin close Airrow pressed the hot flat of the blade against the boy's now forearmless limb. A heavy sizzling rhyming off place of contact. Airrow could hear Mhara screaming and calling for the boy, luckily Ruger had approached entered the gathering and was there to do as commanded. Airrow lifted the blade for a short moment, eying the wound, then placed it back down once more. This time, it was for a shorter moment, then dashing the burn with more alcohol.


Airrow placed the sword down, away from most of the people and especially the boy. Airrow took another swill of the wine, then placed it with a slight slap against the liquid covering the floor. "Let him have some when he comes to, he deserves it." Airrow brought an arm to his own forehead and wiped away a layer of heavy collected sweat. He gave it a few moments, sitting their beside the boy paying attention to the small noises being made until synchronizing the pattern of breathing with the boy's own heaves.


"Do what you can for him, he's making a trip over the mountains."


Airrow stood up and began towards his horse, grabbing the horse's reigns and plucking his spear from the ground. He was ready to begin marching off once more, only stopping to turn back to the group.


"We may have to do worse along this journey, and without doubt we would at the end of it. But now, I would hope you realize, each of you, the oath you have sworn." Airrow peered at each of them. "The boy will come with us, I believe he now owes me something of a life debt. At the least, we should try to take him somewhere much more suited for healing the boy, Yrgen or Faernyae, where they have better supplies for taking care of him. Then, if you feel you must Ruger, you and Mhara can stay with the boy until he is able, and you can escort him home."

 

[Seika-Caxie]

Cyzreala had left Airrow; partially out of embarrassment and the other part to talk with her friends as well as praying to the deceased saints. It was also so she could talk with them about leaving, particularly she leaving with Airrow's group and them there to help rebuild and heal. Justin and Yalzera were not too happy with Cyzreala's decision and were complaining but Neleron absolutely refused to stay put. Neleron just didn't want to leave Cyzreala's side as he was adamant to protect her.


It was a good thing they left before Airrow began his chores of food finding for the group, as the argument was getting rather loud. Some refugees looked up from their wallow and glared anger; which was aimed particularly at Neleron, due to him not wanting to stay to help protect the village and because he wasn't stopping a priestess from leaving. One man was going to tell them off, particularly because he had lost his entire family save for his dog, but then his dog let out a sharp yelp. The man's dog had been grabbed by some hungry individuals and the yelp was due to the fact one of them stabbed the dog the moment the man was distracted.


Cyzreala had welcomed the break and she held out her hand to the individuals responsible for their depraved animal cruelty and both individuals stopped in their tracks before cringing in pain. Both fell to the ground before Cyzreala got off her horse and went to the aid of the dog, who had been stabbed. She went to work healing it, the wounds were shallow but without healing it could get infected so she wanted to make sure the dog wouldn't get infected. The man ran to his dog, who would be fine after healing and Cyzreala got back on her horse. Both Yalzera and Neleron went silent; it was Justin who decided to speak then.


"My lady priestess, zazrack is for healing purposes only." Justin said worriedly.


"Lady Cyzreala...had to use it for other purposes." Yalzera started, defending Cyzreala.


It was Neleron to finish it "One of the Priests responsible for aiding False Saint Jaxon tried to kill Lady Cyzreala. She had to resort to Zázrak's more violent nature to survive." Neleron spoke.


"Sometimes I'm forced to use it during the journey to pray to the fallen saints. You are Diuris as well, Young Yalzera, you might have to use its darker aspects just for survival. Hume can be as violent as a demon, and won't hesitate to sexually abuse a female Diuris especially one they think can't defend herself. Of the hundreds of Diuris women I've healed, fifty were pregnant with half breeds and all were rape cases. We're taught Zázrak is for healing only. Yet more than one of our Head Priests and Priestess's, mostly Hume, use it for it's darker side. Sometimes we have to be forced to use the darker side, to live." Cyzreala spoke.


"The Temple knows about Lady Cyzreala using Zázrak for its darker side. All were defense cases and the real culprits were found. The temple hasn't reprimanded Lady Cyzreala about using Zázrak for its darker side, especially since she was forced to do so after they had unjustly punished her." Yalzera spoke quietly


"Fourteen." Neleron spoke. "Fourteen Diuris females who sought Lady Cyzreala for her healing all died when no one would heal them. Lady Cyzreala was suspended from her healing art while the monks and priests even the priestesses of the time all denied our kind the healing. The babies were spared only because we came for Lady Cyzreala, else some of the monks would do to all the children what they were begining to due to one..."


"Our mother, Nechai, was one of the fourteen killed." Yalzera spoke quietly.


"And the babe?" Justin asked.


"Yalzera herself. Her insides had been twisted...some twisted experiment. It was this that lead to the real culprits. When Cyzreala was set free and given her healing..." Neleron began


"I healed Yalzera and saved her life. I left the Temple that day and it was years before I would return." Cyzreala finished.


Justin went silent and Neleron spoke up. "You remembered this, my lady?" He asked Cyzreala, but the latter went quiet and stared forward


Justin turned to Yalzera then and asked her "Why didn't you tell me?"


Yalzera looked at him briefly before looking at Cyzreala. "I was only a few hours old and one of the last babes to be born of the allowed slaughter. When I came of age I vowed to be a priestess too and it was Lady Cyzreala to train me. She made me promise that I would train others to hopefully save our dying species. Such morbidness...many are uncomfortable of speaking about a truth and certainity yet they are quick to set themselves on the path to speed up the process. Like thieves stealing from a store; at some point the store will close because the store will loose so much money and have to drive up the prices to try to make due or they go out of business. Our race is dying." Yalzera answered.


"The Hume's would like to speed that up thanks to the Father god of the Diuris put in a bad spot. But my Lady is Sultra, it is she who shows my hand and she whom I worship. Sometimes though the Dark must come to pass so their may be light again. I'm not trained with weapons and know only basic hand to hand. Yet the need will come where I must defend myself or die. I sense that in this quest. I pledge myself to guard Airrow, and I know the journey will be too dangerous for the two of you. This city needs a priestess to help it since all that is left are monks. Yalzera, I want you and Justin to remain here." She then stopped her horse from walking once more and looked at Neleron "And I want you to stay too, help defend the city. If you leave with me...my dreams say you may die."


Yalzera looked at her brother worriedly but Neleron held out his hand to prevent her from speaking. "I will gladly give my life to save yours. You're too important to be taken from our people. I'm going."


"Well I object, you're the only family I have left, Neleron" Yalzera spoke. Cyzreala frowned and Justin looked hurt.


"That's not true, Yalzera, you have me." Justin offered. Yet this didn't bring a smile to Yalzera's face.


"Neleron, please stay with us!" Yalzera begged.


"Yalzera, little sis, I can't and won't. She saved your life and you're needed here." Neleron replied and for the first time showed affection to his younger sister and hugged her. Afterwords though he looked at Justin and spoke. "Take care of her otherwise not even the afterlife will keep me from coming after you...Hue...Justin."


Cyzreala shook her head unable to get Neleron to say no.


"You can count on me stubborn one. I will take good care of Yalzera. Just promise me one thing, Lady Cyzreala must return alive preferably unharmed." Justin spoke.


"I won't forgive you if anything happens to her." Yalzera spoke with a frown. In reality she was really upset that she was loosing her brother.


Cyzreala remained silent while Neleron agreed. After which Yalzera gave Cyzreala the biggest hug yet.


"You've always been like a mother and older sister to me. Come back safe!" She pleaded with Cyzreala, who surprised them hugging back.


"I will come back, but a God must be killed first." Cyzreala responded.


Cyzreala and Neleron departed Yalzera and Justin's company. The latter two gave the former two part of their rations, some water and some wine. Yalzera and Justin kept their horses while Neleron and Cyzreala departed on theirs.


Just as Airrow approved and saved the life of a young boy by removal of his arm, Cyzreala and Neleron rejoined the group. At this time, Cyzreala had finished praying to the fallen Saints of this city. Cyzreala spoke very little to the Monks but informed them that another Priestess would be staying with them. Word must be sent to the temple and Cyzreala would make haste to inform the temple in Byzantium. "Take care, brothers and sisters." She ended.

 

[Erica]

There were no words. It had to be done, of course. That made it no easier to bear. There were many reasons Aesriel had chosen to study prvok magic over zazrak, but the chief among them were her soft heart and weak stomach. She had learned to deal with the inevitable aftermath of battles once teaching had become impossible. Yet severing a limb or burning out a wound - even to save someone's life: it made sense intellectually, but she recognized it as beyond her abilities. Theoretically, she would do it if necessary, just as she had taken on a mercenary life against her nature. But to a child? Today was not the day she would add that layer of hardness to her heart.


Apparently, Airrow was comfortable with it, whether by nature or because life had forced him down a different path. When he claimed the boy for their quest as owing a life debt, she frowned but said nothing. What could she say?


Nothing she could say would make it better for Leo in the moment, and their fearless leader was already reminding them of the dangers inherent in their quest. It wasn't an inspirational moment. He might be used to leading Wolves, but later, she might remind him that this odd group of people were not following out of obligation or duty, but because of something more.


A second glance at the faces of the others reminded her that she might very well be wrong about that.

~ * ^ * ~

​

There weren't enough horses for everyone, so Aesriel offered hers to Leo and M'hara as they left Zephyr. It didn't seem right for Airrow to walk as their leader. It seemed even less so to make Leo ride the horse of the man who had taken the lower part of his arm so recently. So she led her horse as they left the city - or what was left of it.


As they passed through the northern gate, the scope of the decimation surrounded them. Many of Zephyr's residents had already departed for less charred locations, but not everyone was able-bodied or well equipped. Makeshift camps had been erected on the outskirts of Zephyr. People looked up from their campfires, eying the riders suspiciously, then with envy. Some came to greet them and wish them well on their expedition: word had filtered through weakly, and many of the people in these camps were too preoccupied with survival to care about their mission. A few desperate souls would beg for assistance or to be taken with the group. All were refused. Aesriel’s heart broke as a mother attempted to hand over her child. The woman followed them through most of the town until Aersiel finally told her that there was no salvation with their group. She kept her head down after that.


As they moved through villages overrun with refugees, the land started to open up and offer a view of the landscape ahead. A mile down the road they would come to a crossroads. They would go straight ahead, following a road that would meander through small towns and then pastoral land before reaching the mountains. The other path led to Ur to the southeast or up the long coastline path toward Warwick. Even at this distance, they could see the trail of people who were making their way southeast to Ur, carrying their lives on their backs.


Aesriel looked to Ruger as they walked. He seemed to hover near M’hara and Leo since the boy’s arrival. Then again, everyone had been focused on the poor child who had lost a hand. Yet Aesri had caught Ruger’s insistence on returning Leo home, and still he didn’t seem overly concerned about the other children around them, some of which were in worse condition. Stepping around a hole in the ground filled with water, Aesriel moved closer to the northman with her horse’s reins in hand. She glanced back at the children on the back of her horse, whose attention was otherwise diverted. “Ruger, do you know Leo? There aren’t many mercenaries who would so quickly volunteer to care for a child.”

 

[Ineffectivd]

Ruger barely flinched when the emergency surgery and subsequent amputation occurred. This was hardly something new to him in his days on the field. Many a man and woman had gone through this treatment. The boy was lucky, very lucky that his lack of consciousness numbed his pain. The hardened of men still flinched at pain, and this was no different. Ruger was, however, quite amazed that the sword stroke had not awoken the boy with the pain. Maybe it was the exhaustion. After all, those at the brink of death know not when the vultures pick them clean. He stood by the operation, almost like a physical shield to stragglers who were curious enough to approach the scene, his arms folded and his jaw set in a grim frown. When it was all done, and the boy was said to be in stable condition, the mercenary stepped forwards, only to be impeded by Airrow himself. He claimed the boy owed him his life, and now must follow him until he can repay his debt. That and he also needed a proper place to heal. Ruger conceded that the boy was far too weak for the journey back to his home, and bowed to Airrow.


“If you are saying so. Ruger will continuing to be accompanies to group until little, brave man can walk on own two feet again.” He pounded one fist on his chest, grinning. “You can be counting on Ruger to get chickens hatched.” With a hearty chuckle, he stepped away from the crowd, allowing the procession to disperse. He made his way across the ruins of the once-romantic Zephyr. Once or twice, he encountered the survivors from the destruction attempting to obstruct his way, begging for alms. Once or twice, he tipped his head down and brushed past them. This was the cycle of life and death. As will life be breathed into this world, death will surely come. Those who survive will live on to be stronger men and women. They must learn this fact.


Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed someone approaching him. The shapely curves, that silky blonde hair and those ice blue eyes. The lady from earlier: Aesriel. Ah, what a delight to the eyes. “Oh hoh, so, does Ruger attract some attenti—“


“Ruger, do you know Leo? There aren’t many mercenaries who would so quickly volunteer to care for a child.”


“And here Ruger was, being quite excited that marvellous woman like you would speak to old Ruger. Alas, is for little, brave man that you speak for.” Ruger sighed, putting on a very melodramatic air, and shaking his head. “But you are speaking truth. Ruger does know little, brave man. Him and his little, brave girly friend. His parents are very good friend of Ruger. They worried, so they pay Ruger for bringing him back safely. Now, with one arm gone, Ruger thinking that maybe pay is a bit less now… So there! Is Ruger story! Yes, Ruger know Leo. And is job to bring home safely! Ruger promise you a hundred percent satisfaction.” He gave a conspiratorial wink. “Even in other sectors, if you are knowing what Ruger is meaning.”

 

[The Empress of Ice]

The air was thick of dark smoke, the smoldering flames of the city a bright light for all to see. Crowds gathered where they could, children cried themselves to sleep in their mothers arms and their fathers chest. Or they would roam the crowds, their family leaving them behind in this pitiful world. The older citizens would try to find a 'safe haven' in the Djinn Wolves, swiftly joining one of the three leading men. A scream of despair would be heard once in awhile, as one would find their beloveds in the, now, ruins of the once magnificent city of Zephyr.


Yet in all this chaos, if one looked carefully, they would find a beautiful white stallion with a generous amount of black spots in the outskirts of the city. Without a doubt, a high-breed horse belonging to a noble, or so one thought. Its rider, calm like the wind, wore a white robe, its hood hiding their face from the world. The rider was easy to recognize as a female, their long legs dangling from the side of the horse revealing some black, leather breeches and her curves didn't go unnoticed beneath the fitted robe.


But what stood out the most was the hilt of the young lady's sheathed sword, it had a single, small bright red jewel on its head, accompanied by beautiful swirling writing all over the hilt.


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


The sound of Dante's trot soothed Lorelai's soul as she ordered him to halt, turning her gaze to the burning city with an odd disappointed glint in her eyes. She didn't feel anything special for the city, it wasn't her real home nor did she stay for too long in it before following another lead on Lucas's case. Her former clients, could be found in either the crowds or laying dead somewhere, but she did not care about them, neither did she feel any sympathy for the people in the city. Her heart turning into steel for far to many years ago.


Instead it was her animal companion that she worried about, the one she found near death three months ago, as she had planned to let him rest in one of the barns. The horse itself had become loyal to Lorelai, letting her take away the freedom that a wild horse held.


Her fingers grazed his fur, his head leaning into her touch. "I am sorry, Dante. I will found you a resting place in Ur, hold on til then." She whispered softly, leaning into the horse's body so her lips was next to its ears. Her touch, seemingly an innocent act of petting, was in truth much more as she slowly healed Dante's fatigue away. The horse, almost if it understood her very words, snorted through his nose as he turned around from the sight of Zephyr to the lengthy trail ahead. A chuckled escaped Lorelai's lips at the horse's antics, taking the reigns once again into her hands and trotting down the trail, she left the city of Zephyr behind in all its glory.


With nothing but Dante, the moon, the stars and her father's soul to accompany her; Lorelai came to speak with the horse, reminiscing memories. "Ne, Dante... Do you remember when I first found you? That annoying nobleman? I can't believe it has only gone three months since we met..." Her eyes glistened with slight happiness as she slowly went over the memories to the horse which neighed once in awhile as a response.


Dante had been nothing but a lucky horse in the past, as his mother was of a rare-breed and his father a strong mustang, making him quite the horse. He had been a wild horse, residing near Crescent Lake until a certain noble decided that he was to be tamed and ridden by his royal arse. Dante hadn't exactly agreed to the idea, capturing him took eighteen men; whereas five were heavily injured. Lorelai at the time, was heading from Warwick to Sorolk, and it was a mere chance that she decided to reside in the lands of the very nobleman whom captured Dante.


And in the process, she met an old client of hers that wanted the nobleman dead, promising her a hefty gain. Weak for money, as money bought information and information brought her closer to her goal, she accepted the request. Five days went as she lured her way into his small fortress, seduced her way into his bed and killed him in his sleep. She had been disgusted by his acts of cruelty upon the poor animal, freeing it from its clutches and for the next days, Dante followed her like a lost puppy.


"You were always an annoying prick, my lovely Dante." She murmured to the horse, getting a loud snort and a slight jump for him in the process. Lorelai was to distracted with Dante that she didn't notice the swarm of black that was getting slowly closer and closer to her.


And once she did... It was not a sight to behold as the moonlight illuminated their bodies. There was ten of them, she counted, and they all were the same. Black robs which seemed more like rags then anything, their body covered in dark red armor and their hands were disgustingly like thick bones, red in color. They were hooded, revealing only half their face, and that in itself was enough to make Lorelai recoil from their tattered, black skin that seemed to be burnt, or so she thought. They had skulls surrounding them, some she recognized as children and adults alike, probably one of the few people who decided to escape to Ur using this trail.


Her gaze connected with one of the few that had their hood back, revealing hollow eyes that stared back with her with a chilling blood-lust in them. They weren't hume, diuris or beastmen. They were monsters.


Lorelai did not need to think twice before she jumped down from Dante, unsheathing her sword, a soft melody playing in her mind as the horse moved away a small distance. He had learnt long ago what it meant when his master took out her sword, and so he would only interfere when she was in need of an escape, which he doubted she would. After all, she knew the dance of nature, an art of the sword she mastered, deep in the mountains of Nysa.


The monsters didn't hesitate to move forward, two of them rushing together to strike her but their tactic was to simple, something Lorelai didn't find special at all. And once they reached her, in a fluid movement, she sliced through the first one to swirl around and block the other ones attack. She blinked twice before she side-stepped to the right, blocking another foolish attack as she finished it off. They lay still for but a second before the bursted into feathers, making her turn around facing the third of the bunch.


She couldn't use her zázrak magic unless she wanted to cause suspicion upon her, in case someone from the city came by to see the show. Either way, she was too concentrated to care as she continued, gracefully, taking on the third one. Her feet circled around the being in a sick sack motion, confusing it until it became enraged. Dodging its try to cut her head of, she made a back flip to once again go around in a circle.


This time though, she seemed to dance around the monster, as if he was a large fire and she had an invisible partner. Using her sword like a lengthened part of her body, she awaited the monster to attack and swiftly, she cut his head off while doing a swirl and then continued her dance, encircling the rest of the monsters.


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


Three minutes later, Lorelai had cut down seven of them but oddly, there wasn't three of them left. No, they had multiplied like the monsters they were, surrounding her slightly as she danced for herself. She didn't mind, she didn't care either as all she needed to do was find the 'head' monster and kill him to get rid of the rest. The only problem though, was that they all seemed to be alike.<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_01/57a8bea4dd900_BloodEagle.jpg.8abf15476bca0388a9bcc647d577f83d.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="12199" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_01/57a8bea4dd900_BloodEagle.jpg.8abf15476bca0388a9bcc647d577f83d.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>

 

[Ozmic]

Azrathoth Orindr had been walking for a very long time towards Ur and, as such, his mood was as sour as the liquid in his wineskin. Lifting the cloth that covered his face to take a drink anyhow, he let the skin drop as his eyes fell on what remained of Zephyr. As wind whipped toward him, he caught the smell of burning buildings and flesh; lost souls and suffering. Despite his dry mouth, he spat onto the Earth and scowled.


'So many wasted souls,' he thought to himself, shaking his head as he tugged the black cloth over his mouth once more. He continued the conversation with himself even as he walked on, occasionally glancing back at the ruined city and the inhabitants that fled, flickering shadows in the light of many blazes.


'Perhaps Zephyr now knows the meaning of war as we did in Ur,' his mindvoice droned on with little humor or emotion. 'However... odd that a whole city would fall in the wake. Set alight like a funeral pyre.' Shaking the thoughts away, others replaced them. Thoughts of souls.


How long before he had to take another? How long before the familiar festering feeling of decay began to set in? Did it matter anymore? The last few years, he'd began taking them whether or not it mattered, making the wrinkles and darkness fade before they even had the chance to set it. He excelled at it and, somewhere deep in his mind, he felt prideful of those he'd destroyed and absorbed.


A humorless smirk tugged at one side of his lips for just a moment, but left as quickly as it had shown. He halted and snapped his eyes in another direction. A soul... but there was something else. He changed direction, moving toward them at a hurried pace.


---


There was a battle in progress. A female, fighting off some strange looking armored beasts. Az's eyes went to slits as he studied them. They were wrong; he couldn't tell why, but their very presence made his fists and teeth clench. The woman and her two souls could not be taken by these creatures, they were to be his... in time.


This was his chance, he realized, to play the hero. To gain the other's trust. It would take time, of course, but it was all worth it. All good things came to those who persevered. Brine had told him that ages ago and it had always held truthful in his many years. With those words in mind, he set forward and took action.


---


Coming up behind the first beast he struck unannounced, driving the spear of his weapon deep into the back of it's head with a audible crunch. It fell with a screech and eroded into feathers and dust. The Reaper-man paid no heed, rushing toward a group that had noticed him now.


Swinging forward, the axe-head of his polearm came loose and connected hard with the first. Tugging, Azrathoth hefted it back and gripped both sides now, his weapon in two parts connected by a heavy chain. "Come on, you curs. Come to me and die!" he roared, partly to announce himself to the other and draw more his way. "I'll send you back to whichever pit you were birthed from."


Giving a guttural warcry he leapt at the second and clashed blades with it, muscles bulging as the beast fought back. The male sidestepped, pulling behind the creature and wrapping the chain about whatever served at it's throat.


He tugged and sent them both sprawling to the ground, the thing struggling to right itself when it met his spear. Like the first, it cawwed a death-gurgle and fell feathers, something seeming to escape from the rotting armor. "What sorcery is this?" he snapped, facing the third and regarding him with cold, red-rimmed eyes. "The least you mongrels could do is properly die."

 

[SirDurrHurrHurr]

"Much more than a simple sojourn it seems..."


The bigger they are, the harder they fall it was said, and it seemed like Zephyr was not exempt from this, and what a fall it was. The blazing wreck of the once majestic city lit up the night sky like a bonfire of grand proportions. Fyodor made his way past the wrecked buildings and into the town square, absorbing every inch of the ruinous sight in front of him.


"A natural cause perhaps? A stray lightning bolt mayhap? No... no... storm clouds nowhere to be seen... The folly of young prankster? A blacksmith's tragic mistake? But such scale! No, this was no accident, we have a case of foul play here... Marauding bandits? Ambitious warlords? Or are sinister and unknown forces conspiring plots? Quite the pickle... Quite the pickle..."


Amidst his semi-delusional rambling, Fyodor noticed a cloaked figure emerged from his peripheral vision. He turned to face the mysterious guest. It appeared to be a large cloaked man clad in spiked armor, sporting a large cleaver. "Ah! Good day sir! It's good to see another person, a live one even more so! You mind showing me if around?"


No response, the cloaked being drew closer, and was quickly joined by several other identical figures. Fyodor noticed their drawn weapons and was quick to draw his own. "So I take it a nice calm talk over a campfire is out of the question then?" The figures responded by quickening their pace, readying their weapons while closing the distance with alarming speed.


"Wrong choice my friend."


Drawing from the flames from the burning buildings, Fyodor conjured a pillar of flame, which engulfed the hooded figures and incinerated them. More of them had appeared from multiple directions while he was dealing with the initial group. He spun around to face the newcomers with his sword, cutting the seemingly mindless creatures down without much effort. The ease with which he felled his foes bothered Fyodor, but he continued without paying the thought much mind.


As the second wave of foes thinned, Fyodor moved to cut the final few down but to his surprise, it parried his strike, something they had not been doing before. Before Fyodor even had time to think it had countered with its own vicious strike, which would have sent Fyodor's head flying off like a ball had it connected. Fyodor renewed his attack, on the remaining creatures, thought the ease with which he had previously been culling his foes was gone. He had to place care with each of his moves and strikes against the suddenly competent opponents.


As he killed the last one, more of the figures had seemingly spawned from nowhere, baffling Fyodor. It was as though they were multiplying as they fought on. He also noticed that they seemed to be trying to corral him to a specific location, driving Fyodor away from the city and towards the outskirts during their skirmishes.


As Fyodor backed out into the open fields, he caught sight of two other people engaged in battle with the cloaked men. One was a tall and slender looking Diuris woman, her poise and grace undiminished even as she cut her enemies down. The other, a formidable looking colossal Hume man, wielding a similarly large battleaxe. He was felling the foes with brutal efficiency, his axe mowing down all in its way. Seeing another group close in from their blindspot, Fyodor incinerated them with magic and went to join his new compatriots?


"Lovely weather is it not? Is this a private party or may I cut in?"

 

[Original Hylion]

He expected more objection, honestly. While there was definite unease, everyone kept mostly quiet and melancholic about the situation. It was preferable that way; although, it slightly weighed on him the fear he may have induced onto the party. His brash actions had taken the boy's arm, and there was still no telling if he would make it. Airrow felt the gods against him in his endeavor. He doubted himself and his sense of pride in taking this mission upon himself. It was terrifying, really, to be a leader of journey like this. He had to stoke the flame of courage amongst his troop, yet he felt his courage fade and flicker amongst his party's own. Courage and greatness was hard to come by, if not those two, then perhaps he would fall into mediocrity. The amount of shame and dishonor Airrow felt he wrought on himself and amongst his family was quite heavy on his shoulders, heavy on his bones. When this was all said and done, whether he was dead or not, Airrow knew the weight would not leave him. It would stay with him, he felt. At least, in his mind, he felt, he is a failure.


The sage Fletcher gave the children her horse to allow them to nurture the boy properly. The boy seemed to lay, still, in his unconsciousness, ever nurtured by his companion of near age. He wondered of the boy's father and the boy's will. He seemed strong, yes, but he feared how the boy would fair. Even more so, he wondered how they would each fair, now with his shaking of their confidence. He wondered how many of them would make it to Yrgen before turning from him and making their own ways to their own destinations. Sad, perhaps, but maybe more so better. It meant they would have a higher chance of surviving, at least better than whomever decided to see the campaign full and through.


Ruger seemed very content with accompanying the group until the boy was able to be taken back home, wherever that would be. Truly, a man of knightly material. Yet, it was a question to be asked. A good wonder, a man of the north takes interest in taking near to dead boys back to their parents simply out of good will. Airrow felt he should question Ruger's reason, but he stopped himself. How cruel it would be to ask a man why he helped someone. He placed it aside and simply prepared to move out.


Airrow gathered his horses reigns and rustled it into motion, while doing so he made a small motion to Cyzreala, more towards her companion. There was not time to explain the situation, or rather it was not the time to speak of the current happenings. Instead, Airrow left it to another time and began to move forward.


Aesriel took point, leading the group out of the Zephyriun borders and towards the cross towards the mountains and towards Ur. She seemed quite strong through the conflict. She had a good will on her, it was no wonder she kept such a young frame while being of sagely status. From what Airrow had gathered, anyone who used magic extensively grew older faster, and died faster too. The only person he knew of whom was not affected whatsoever by magic was Kalhalar. There was plenty odd with Kal though, and Airrow knew it may be better not to pry from the fellow for answers, not that it would really work. Kal could barely keep a steady walk before getting sidetracked by a nearby rock. Taking that in mind, Airrow peaked back to get an eye on Kal. He would have to make sure he kept up somewhat. No doubt the man would forget what he was doing at some point and stop for a short picnic.


Airrow put his attention forward again, only now noticing Aesriel and Ruger having a small conversation. It was small, but thankfully the tension would be defusing. He did not pay attention to it, though he found it tempting, wondering if perhaps the conversation had anything to pertain about himself. He doubted that though, if they sought to speak of him in privacy, they would most likely find a more suitable location. Besides, he there was no way he would want to be that guy.


The sound of metal clashing on metal was enough to catch Airrow's attention. Once the noise began to echo, Airrow took the initiative of moving towards the sound. Without moving some yards away from the road, over the hill there could be seen a small bout going about. A man casting flames and acting with blade, a horrifically tall man swinging about a weapon far from the martial type, and a maiden dancing about with her own blade.


He did take a few moments examining the situation, looking over their adversaries and further examining the situation. The attackers were obviously human like men whom fought as one, but quite clearly without much grace. They seemed much smarter fighting in smaller numbers in comparison to fighting in large amounts. As well, he took note of how their limbs and body burst into black and red feathers when hit with a heavy blow. They seemed fragile, for the most part, and they seemed unorganized. The most surprising fact being how they seemed to appear from every corner and nook of shadow. Airrow assumed they were flooding out cave some place where they made home, but due to the feather factor, he found difficulty in exacting their numbers, worse so, the feathers seemed to be blown away by the light gust, sending Airrow's suspicions toward magic.


"We should help." Airrow announced to the party, as he readied his spear and rolled his shoulders. "Kal, watch the horses. We don't want our stuff disappearing." Airrow looked over his small contingent. It seemed now was the time to be a leader.


"Our first priority is getting those fellows out from the encirclement. I'll take point. Raz, Ruger, cover my flanks. I want Yurt and Fox to keep a tunnel open when Raz, Ruger, and myself punch through. Everyone else, keep them from advancing on us."


With that, Airrow began down the hill and quickened his pace when sprinting at the enemy. He had his spear point forward, with tenacity in his arms.

 

[Haley]

The travel was quite after it was decided that the one-armed boy would travel with them. Faelynn found herself frowning when Airrow decided he would stay to repay Airrow. Hm, he's already having to deal with one arm, now he's got to pay you back? She didn't dare open her mouth and argue about it though, and not only because Fox was right next to her watching, waiting for her to slip up if only to replace the fear back into her lungs, but also because she didn't want things to be tense between Airrow and herself. Once she was free of Fox ( and she was determined to be so) she would more than likely seek friendship again with Airrow, he being the only person who knew her, in fact, knew her well before this expedition.


"You know, you keep this silence thing up and perhaps everything will be okay, you sure are pretty to look at and we all know women are to be seen and not heard." Fox smiled smugly up at Faelynn as he spoke low as to not attract any other attention. "Here you are, love." He winked and held up a pretty purple and blue wild flower, a common sight on this path to Ur. He looked at her as if he actually cared and slipped the stem into her delicate hand. "Because you're so pretty." He said, almost over doing the affection but ended it with a perfect little peck on her free hand that was gripping the reins so tight her knuckles were white.


"Thanks." She replied stiffly and with a forced little smile. She knew he was milking it for the viewers around them. As much as Fae wanted to take the stem of the wild flower and stab him in his pretty golden eye, she knew she had to follow her old bosses motto: "Fake it 'til you make it". So, instead of maiming his fake with the same flower he gifted her with she brought it up to her nose and inhaled the sweet scent and then placed it into one of the pockets on her torn dress.


Suddenly the line stopped, and Faelynn had to pull on the reins to keep her horse from nearly knocking into the back of the one in front of her. She lifted herself a few inches from the saddle and looked up to see Airrow emerge a few yards to the side of them and give out orders and places. Apparently some fighting was going on and their help was needed. She sighed a breath of relief as Fox was given a command away from her. She looked own at him only to see him give a stern nod and unsheath the dagger from his thigh before walking over to where Yurt was.


Everyone else, keep them from advancing on us.


"Everyone else? And just what am I supposed to do if they get past you? Flash em' my goods? I've never used a weapon!" She blurted as a small feeling of panic began to rise in her chest. Her blue eyes darted between the men who were taking their places, to Kal who was ordered to stay back and to the kids, one of them still unconscious and still missing an arm.

 

[Sol]

Yurt stood motionless and silent. He watched as they were debating on what to do with the boy, Leo, the one who single-handedly felled a troll. It was cruel that such a promising and young individual go through such hardship so early in life. There was much to be experienced with two hands available for use. Still that didn't stop them from lopping off his arm anyway, it was either death or an arm it seemed or so the tension in the atmosphere dictated. He stood and watched as they went about hacking off the limb. He felt a phantom pain resonate from his missing arm while they were slicing it off. It hurt to watch yet he felt compelled to stay and witness the deed.


It wasn't long after that when Airrow had given the word to march for the North. To march back home to his motherland to slay a thorn on his deity's side. Everyone had been finalizing their supplies and equipment and Yurt stuck to purchasing a few last minute supplies for himself as well. It was a long walk back home and food would be necessary. The road to Ur would be calm but the its what comes after Ur that makes this journey hard. They had horses but were used as packmules instead, Yurt wondered just how much of an insult to their own honor this was to the horses. To be treated like their cousins, a mule to carry their things, becoming beasts of burden instead of speeding past these roads like the wind.


Of course, Yurt had been wrong about the calmness of the road to Ur. There was the sound of steel against steel and the knight at the helm of their expedition had voted to aid the strangers locked in combat with robed men or so they looked like it. Instead of simply circling around the carnage, sir Airrow had planned to take those things on and save those travelers who seem very content with chopping down their opponents. Yurt was given the order to keep a tunnel open for them, which meant mopping up any remainders of their hopefully vicious enough charge. In truth Yurt had only a vague idea on what keeping a tunnel open was and waited for this Fox person to lead the way. No one seriously expected a one armed man to take charge regardless of the task. He drew his sword and waited for Fox who soon arrived by his side.


"Well, mister Fox, how shall we go about keeping this tunnel open for the three of them?" 
Ruger’s attention from the marvellously stunning lady was disrupted by the sounds of battle. The clash of steel upon steel, and the harmony of magic tearing across the land. Ah, what beautiful melody, a classical masterpiece, a wonderment to the ears of the sellsword. His natural love for battle, which slightly, very slightly, surpassed his love for wondrous women such as the one that stood in front of him, caused him to avert his lovelorn gaze from the astounding Asriel, and move towards Airrow, who now watched a battle in the distance. Already, the adrenaline began to course, and Ruger his sword hand tingle with anticipation. He cracked his knuckles and drew his sword. “Looks like fight bring self to Ruger!” He laughed, twirling his sword, blissfully unaware of his surroundings.


“We should help.” Airrow commented, as he readied his spear and warmed up for the upcoming fight.


“Very muchly! Ruger will show how helpful he is with sword in hand! Haha! Let’s go!” Ruger was basically brimming with murderous glee when Airrow suggested the assist. Ruger will happily assist. Assist with his wild strikes upon the enemy, that is. The fact that they were monsters, dark shadows of men that darkness exuded from, did not bother him. He was used to fighting a lot of these kinds of things. Foul, putrid beings that came from whatever hole they crawled out of, fed by the flesh and sins of men. He remembered one mission where everything went terribly wrong, and he watched as his mark transformed, her skin eaten up from the inside as she turned into a monster that devoured his comrades. He cut it down. No money was given for his mark’s death, and he went without drink and food for a week. He could still feel the pangs of his stomache from then.


“OK! Ruger will cover flank! Ruger will cut montrosies with sword until there are none to be cutting at!” Ruger charged ahead, step in step with Airrow, until he met the horde head on, and he began what he called as his work. Killing things, and killing them well.


(HE MAY HAVE DIED, BUT HIS RPING SPIRIT STILL LIVES ON!)

 

[Erica]

Ruger’s explanation about his interest in Leo surprised Aesriel and softened her expression. She blushed lightly at his flattery, but mainly it was his concern for the boy that made her smile. She personally believed that a man could be easily measured by how he treated children. (The fact that Ruger had been the one to swing the blade severing Leo’s arm was set aside for the moment, mostly because she did not want to dwell on that event.) When he promised her “satisfaction” in other areas, though, her blush deepened even as she rolled her eyes with a soft chuckle meant to dismiss the idea.


Before she could retort, the winds carried the distinct sound of battle to them. Aesirel slowed in her steps as she tried to discern the players in the movement up ahead. Meanwhile, beside her, Ruger had already jumped to his favorite conclusion. She caught sight of his twirling sword and might have chuckled, if it weren’t for the uncertainty of the situation. Airrow started issuing orders - which apparently relegated her to the back lines.


"Our first priority is getting those fellows out from the encirclement. I'll take point. Raz, Ruger, cover my flanks. I want Yurt and Fox to keep a tunnel open when Raz, Ruger, and myself punch through. Everyone else, keep them from advancing on us."


It felt like a token assignment, lumping her with the children, elderly, and untrained in battle. It was mildly insulting, but she didn’t mind much. Looking at the monstrous feathered beasts below, it was probably best she remain out of reach. Her skills would be more effective from here if needed.


While she didn’t mind the relegated position, apparently Fae did. "Everyone else? And just what am I supposed to do if they get past you? Flash em' my goods? I've never used a weapon!"


As the men rushed forward, Aesriel turned to look at Kal, Cyzreala, and Faelyn, along with Mhara and Leo on the horse. She offered Fae a kind smile. “Let’s hope it will not come to that,” she said as she offered Kal the reins to her horse. The creatures should not get near them, but that essentially left it to her and the priestess to keep any stray monsters from wreaking havoc. Unless Kalahar was capable of fighting, but that didn’t seem likely. She offered the old man a nod before she started moving slowly toward the battle ahead.


Two men fought along with a Diuris woman in white. Their attacks were masterful and, in many cases, brutal. The dark haired man used prvok magic with abandon. Yet despite their extremely effective destruction, the group of monsters was not diminishing in size. For every one they killed, there was a burst of feathers and dust, followed by more creatures. It was like the legend of the Hydra, only worse; at least that was only one large, if terrifying, beast. These creatures could separate and flank an opponent. How would a creature accomplish that? If it was based on the same principles she had studied, there had to be a source, a key to the effect. It seemed unlikely that there were runes or symbols in effect; the ground had been disturbed….


She grabbed Raz’s arm as he was heading past her. “Find the one that is different. Killing it might stop the process.” Her message probably made no sense, and it was possible her theory was wrong, but that was all she could do for now. She released his arm just as quickly as she had grabbed it: Airrow and Ruger were already rushing ahead.


Meanwhile, she took up a stance between the battle and the horses, watching the way these creatures fought. While simplistic in nature, their attacks were fast and deadly. If they connected, they would surely end a life. The warriors and mage were keeping them at bay, but eventually it would boil down to a matter of numbers. Even now, some of the creatures on the edge of the battle looked toward the newcomers.

 

[The Empress of Ice]

Her eyes glistened with slight annoyance as she took another step to the right, bending her left leg outwards as she felt the rush of air which came as she jumped. Her sword traveled along side her, stopping a launch from three of the monstrosities that had shown their faces. Lorelai did not notice her 'necklace' falling out from her robe, her eyes trained on the growing mass of monsters. Currently, she was surrounded by four of the monstrosities though she couldn't help but notice the difference in their movements compared to when they were a larger group. Their attacks more precise.


She pondered on whether it was just that those she faced at the moment were stronger than those before them, her body swiftly swinging itself forth with the sword that she carried. It struck the chest of one, breaking through the burnt flesh and bones, leaving behind a trail of blood and gore as the beast split in two; its guttural screams echoing in the air. A growl of distaste was heard from Lorelai's side, her eyes shifting to the coming crowd of seven.


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


A sigh of irritation gushed out of her lips, into the air and disappeared as quickly as it came. She had fought these... These things for more than a while now, and even if she didn't feel the exhaustion or any strain from her body; she was tired. Tired of not finding the damned leader of these beasts. They all looked the same, her eyes had confirmed that not too long ago. And as the night continued, they seemed to keep on coming, making her unable to travel til she ends the dreaded battle.


Slowly, she analyzed the coming horde. And for once, Lorelai was sure that the leader was in there somewhere. A smirk coming her way as she felt the need to finish of her twenty-seventh victim. Inhaling deeply, she found herself in the middle of a small circle, five of them surrounding her. The one behind her, clearly having an advantage, did not have a chance to attack as she swiftly swirled around, her right foot coming in contact with the monster's chest and with an 'oof' it fell on its arse. A monstrous shriek was heard from her left, as one leaped into the action, to be slayed within seconds. Lorelai's sword cutting through its neck.


Yet she did not have the chance to finish all of them before a gust of feathers was seen from her right, distracting her for but a second. Her gaze falling on a fair haired man, not possibly older than thirty-one she believed, his lean, large body and clothing of a bandit stood out from the crowd of beasts. His war cry drawing more than enough foes his way. Enough foes to make her notice the slight glitch from her 'necklace', her fingers grasping it desperately, snugging it firmly underneath her robe; inside her black corset. "Monstrosities."


Her voice cried out to the male, as he uttered of sorcery. Her feet did not falter, cutting through enemies with her sword until she was by the man's side. Lorelai did not trust him, but as it was; they were now companions in this battle til it ended, and once it ended, she would send him to the depths of hell as he had surely seen Raphael.


Lorelai was certain her plan would be foul proof until a fool, some black-haired buffoon joining their battlefield. Not only did the man bring with him another horde of monsters but he also ruined her chance to take care of the fair haired one. Life did not look up for the young lady, her blade missing its target, landing on another monstrosity but it had still missed the one she was aiming for; bringing her down a notch.


Blaming herself for the stupidity of losing her concentration, Lorelai gathered herself mentally. Her gaze seemed to go numb, her eyes in a trance as her steps sped up. Her arms swung her sword ferociously but never did she miss, as she cut of the beast's leg. She continued her little dance for as long as she could remember when she heard the shouts from far. Her head snapped to her side, meeting the gazes of more than five men and a few woman rushing their way. "Oh, for Satan's hairy arse, this is hell!"





The young lady muttered out as she let the fools join her battle. A whistle echoed from her lips, and like a white dot in the dark fields, Dante rushed through the hordes of beasts to his master's side. And not soon after was she sitting comfortably on his back, killing only those that attacked her.