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  #26    
Old July 19th, 2012, 06:21 PM
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Percival Grey- The top of Ekilore


There were several moments of silence shared between the gathered souls and the Eunuch. Percival was a social person, but there was something discouraging about the current situation that made small talk less desirable than normal. The Eunuch buried his hands in the sleeves of his robes and patiently stood near the door, as if waiting for a signal. Percival felt himself growing a bit nervous, taking deeper breaths to calm down. Maybe it's the air up here, he told himself. As legitimate as that excuse was, it was only an excuse. Percival had no idea what to expect from the monks. Few mortals ever meet them, usually doing their business through emissaries or eunuchs. So to meet them was an honor.

"Ah, it is time my lords and lady. Come right this way. Do watch your step. All these stairs can be such a chore," the Eunuch said with a sheepish smile. Percival did not see or hear a signal. Odd. Perhaps it was magic of some sort. Despite it's growing rarity, it would not be unheard of it. The monks have had access to old magics for generations.

Percival entered through the door and climbed a brief staircase and entered the observatory. The group stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by the monks. They sat in what appeared to be small thrones on a stone platform that circled the outer edge of the room. There were seven in number, each of them cloaked in a grey-white robes with a hood hiding their faces. All except one who was not presently in his seat, instead gazing out the glass walls watching Hyrus through the thin clouds.

As the group placed themselves in the middle of the room, the standing monk turned to face them, stepping down from his platform to meet them face to face. He stood taller with excellent posture than Percival and seemed to have a solid build. It was impressive considering the supposed age of the man, given that his hair had little color other than its full silver grey. His face was fairly youthful too with no disfiguring marks or facial hair. It was a bit disorienting really. Was this man old or young? The most unusual trait was his eyes however. They were a deep red and drew Percival in, as if they were attempting to hypnotize him.

The red eyed monk spoke with a strong voice: "Thank you for coming my Knights of Ekilore. You stand in the room of the monks of this grand tower on a day that could decide the fate of this very world." The monk looked at the "knights" with a discerning eye, analyzing them one by one. He then smiled, as if he pleased with the collection of men and women he had gathered. "We monks are gifted with many abilities that have been developed over the course of many long years. These abilities allow us to see things that others can not. In these visions, my fellow monks and I have seen something that brings great hope for this world. Through deeper mediations and some readings of ancient texts, I believe that we have found the possibility of everlasting peace" the monk said with a deep pause.

"It is no secret that Hyrus has encountered many difficulties its rather grand history. With such things as pestilence, war, and famine all leading to many untimely deaths. It is all such a grim tale that I dare not elaborate any further. But…" the monk continued waving to the eunuch that escorted them earlier. "This artifact, known as the Orb of Ardor in your common tongue was a recurring motif in our visions," the monk said showing them a rough sketch of the orb from one of the books that clearly based on the condition was one of the most ancient of the many books in the Grand Library. "If the myths surrounding this orb hold true, this may be able to fix all that and end the chaos that is sweeping the land."

"And what do you want us to do?" Percival asked.

"A fair question to ask," the monk replied. "This Orb was believed to be shattered long ago with its pieces becoming the desire of many because of its so called 'value' as a treasure with no owner being astute enough to realize its true purpose. This, in turn, caused the shards to be scattered across all of Hyrus. For this prophecy to hold true, we must gather all these pieces to put the Orb of Ardor back together to unlock its power. Undoubtedly, you chosen few will become heroes."

"The quest will bestow its own rewards. Mountains of riches you shall receive," one of the monks said suddenly.

"The conclusion of this quest will fulfill all your ambitions, and thus you can finally revel in languor and indolence," said another.

"The pleasure of the flesh will be forever yours to partake."

"Others will look upon you with eyes of jealousy, at what you have accomplished, and at what they wish they had."

"Your cravings will eternally and everlastingly be fulfilled."

"Your thirst for battle will be seen, and in the end your enemies will fear your name.  Your own might will be the last they see in your path of destructive power!"

"Your names and your legacies, that which binds you to this world, will be forever transformed on this quest. All shall know your names, and you will become more than what you are. You will become truly immortal," said the red eyed monk before them, being the final monk to speak allowing the other 6 to speak first.

"Do you accept this quest?"

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  #27    
Old July 22nd, 2012, 12:55 AM
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Arlen Franeo - Oculus Tower, Eiklore

The sun had lowered slightly in the sky by the time that they were finally summoned. Time passed quickly for Arlen at least, admiring the view and enjoying the strong wind blowing past the tower, the salty sea breeze reminding him of times past. He was snapped out of his daze when the monk they had been following spoke up, informing them that it was indeed time, and they entered the top room of the tower one by one. Closing the iron door behind him, Arlen got a good look at the room. It was seemingly perfectly circular, the walls all made of glass, the roof probably ten to fifteen feet above their heads. Ornate designs covered the marble floor, spiraling outwards to an outing ring made of stone, which seven thrones sat on close to the edges of the room. Six of the seven thrones were occupied by more monks, these men with silvery cloaks covering their bodies and hiding their faces in shadow. The seventh monk stood by the crystal glass window that circled the entire room.

The seventh monk turned to them after they had arranged themselves in the center of the room, revealing a face that surprised Arlen when compared to the other monks in the tower. He was young, no older than thirty. He had short silvery hair, matching his cloak. But the oddest feature of the man was his intense red eyes. The only other time Arlen had seen red eyes such as these was those of a albino, but the man's skin was not bleached as an albino's would be. It was certainly strange, but Arlen shrugged the fact off as the man began to speak.

"Thank you for coming my Knights of Ekilore. You stand in the room of the monks of this grand tower on a day that could decide the fate of this very world." The monk looked over the collection of men and women standing in the center of the room, as if to analyze each of them with his stare. "We monks are gifted with many abilities that have been developed over the course of many long years. These abilities allow us to see things that others can not. In these visions, my fellow monks and I have seen something that brings great hope for this world. Through deeper mediations and some readings of ancient texts, I believe that we have found the possibility of everlasting peace" the monk said, pausing dramatically.

"It is no secret that Hyrus has encountered many difficulties its rather grand history. With such things as pestilence, war, and famine all leading to many untimely deaths. It is all such a grim tale that I dare not elaborate any further. But…" the monk waved at the man who had escorted them to the top of the tower, and the man quickly walked over to a book shelf and grabbed a dusty looking book. "This artifact, known as the Orb of Ardor in your common tongue was a recurring motif in our visions," the monk said showing them a rough sketch of the orb from the book that their escort had brought him. The orb didn't look like much from the page in the book, although Arlen doubted that the book told all there was to be known about the orb. "If the myths surrounding this orb hold true, this may be able to fix all that and end the chaos that is sweeping the land."

"And what do you want us to do?" Percival asked.

"A fair question to ask," the monk replied. "This Orb was believed to be shattered long ago with its pieces becoming the desire of many because of its so called 'value' as a treasure with no owner being astute enough to realize its true purpose. This, in turn, caused the shards to be scattered across all of Hyrus. For this prophecy to hold true, we must gather all these pieces to put the Orb of Ardor back together to unlock its power. Undoubtedly, you chosen few will become heroes."

"The quest will bestow its own rewards. Mountains of riches you shall receive," one of the monks said suddenly.

"The conclusion of this quest will fulfill all your ambitions, and thus you can finally revel in languor and indolence," said another.

"The pleasure of the flesh will be forever yours to partake."

"Others will look upon you with eyes of jealousy, at what you have accomplished, and at what they wish they had."

"Your cravings will eternally and everlastingly be fulfilled."

"Your thirst for battle will be seen, and in the end your enemies will fear your name. Your own might will be the last they see in your path of destructive power!"

"Your names and your legacies, that which binds you to this world, will be forever transformed on this quest. All shall know your names, and you will become more than what you are. You will become truly immortal," said the red eyed monk, speaking last of all, giving the group of assembled warriors a piercing stare.

"Do you accept this quest?"

Nobody in the group moved or said anything for a moment, letting the information digest. Do one quest, and glory and luxury for the rest of their lives? It almost seemed too easy. Not only that, but Arlen was a bit suspicious of what exactly the orb could do. The monks had not said anything about it's powers, or how they would use it. Without further delay, Arlen spoke up, his voice echoing off of the glass walls. "Still, I would like to know more about this orb. What exactly does it do, how does it work. For all we know, we may be bringing back the catalyst for the destruction of Hyrus rather than a tool to create peace. No offense, but I don't want to jump blindly into this sort of thing without knowing what exactly out actions will do."
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  #28    
Old July 22nd, 2012, 08:44 PM
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Roland Grey- Ekilore



Spectacular as the view was, Roland began to slowly adapt to the sight of the land before him, and now beginning to push forward into his foremost thoughts was the question of how long it would actually take for the monks to accept them. He didn’t mind the view by any means, but the thought of standing at the top of the world on little more than a staircase was a bit uncomfortable to him. The feeling eventually passed when the eunuch suddenly proclaimed that the monks would see them now. He saw no sign of the eunuch communicating with anyone, so the suddenness of it all was a tad abnormal. Roland didn’t let it bother him, as he was led with the others through the door, up a staircase, and to the observatory. There in the middle of the room they stood, and right on the outside of them sat the fabled monks of Ekilore.

Many tales have been told about the monks over many years, often evolving from place to place, and changing from era to era. They have existed for as long as the tower has, but even then no precise date of their commencement is known. Some say that the monks were sent by the Council of Nine to watch over the world of Ekilore. Others of the north claim that they are the gods of Ragnell incarnate. There is also debate about the longevity of the monks. Some believe that there were only ever these monks, and that they are more than human, but less than gods, gifted with long-lasting life. Various other stories hint that the monks are in fact human, and that when a monk dies, they are secretly replaced by some furtive means. There are countless other tales told and retold about the monks, but few facts. However, in his studies, Roland has ascertained a few: to be summoned by the monks is considered an immense honor; many find the monks highly respectable, though there are those few who believe them meddlesome; the monks on the very infrequent occasions in history have provided prophecies to those who would hear them, and they have consistently been accurate.

Six monks sat on stone seats encircling the gathered. The seventh monk stood behind, gazing out through the glass of the observatory at Hyrus below. He was the only one whose face was unhidden. When he turned, Roland got a good view of him. He had a deep contrast of his face of being both youthful and elderly at the same time, to the point where Roland could not determine his age. Most alarming, however, was his eyes, which bore the color of deep red. The red-eyed monk approached, and spoke to the gathered.

Roland listened silently, trying to focus on the monk’s message even if his eyes kept a good bulk of his attention as well. There was something ominous about them, as if they stared right into Roland’s very soul. Perhaps it was the gods’ way of testing him, and from the sound of it, this would indeed be his ultimate test. But Roland’s better judgment still found too many unknowns about this quest. Even if something about this situation called him towards it, he still felt obligated to know more. The whole idea seemed a bit farfetched, after all. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who felt this way, as one of the others, a man from Vanaheim from the looks of it, spoke.

"Still, I would like to know more about this orb. What exactly does it do, how does it work. For all we know, we may be bringing back the catalyst for the destruction of Hyrus rather than a tool to create peace. No offense, but I don't want to jump blindly into this sort of thing without knowing what exactly out actions will do."

“I’m inclined to agree with the Highman.” Roland said, crossing his arms and staring at the monks around with a certain sense of superiority, before casting his gaze at the red-eyed monk. Even with his oddly colored eyes, Roland made every effort to put off a strong front, neither flinching nor showing signs of discomfort, though secretly, he had to admit he was quite uneasy. “This…Orb of Ardor, as you call it, is an object in which we truly know nothing about. Not that I doubt the wisdom or the knowledge you monks carry, but the entire idea of what you’re talking about seems rather ludicrous. The problems as you have said which exist in Hyrus are deep in root, often going back centuries. How can a single object bring us peace? I do not buy into this.”

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  #29    
Old July 24th, 2012, 12:13 AM
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"Oi! Don't just sit there! Get off your as*es and start hitting people!"

Elijah would normally make it known that he was not in fact "sitting on his ass", as the man said, but the sounds of drunken men and women (mostly men) drowned out his voice. Bar fights were so chaotic, but Elijah was quite used to them. He was usually the one causing them in the first place. With his plain honestly anyway. Would it be hard to believe that most people did not like? No? Well, anyways, it's time for Elijah to have a little fun. Silly, silly alcoholics. They're just so easy to fight...

A small, thin man came up to him, pulling his arm back to hit Elijah in the first syllable of cocking. It was really obvious, considering the guy's eyes were looking straight down at it. Elijah caught the man's wrist half-way through his sloppy attempt at a ball-buster, and looked down at him. He gave the man a look that could only be read as 'really?'. Elijah twisted his wrist and pulled the man up off the ground, staring into the muddled confused eyes. It appeared the person really didn't know what to do when he got caught. Obviously, he didn't fight much (if at all). Tsk, tsk, tsk. "Don't try to touch my groin ever again in your life. If I want anyone's touch, it would be from a woman." With that to end their encounter, he threw the man over to another group of brawlers.

He turned around just in time to allow him to receive a fist to his jaw. Elijah kept his jaw turned for a second or two, before his gaze returned to the attacker. Much more of a competitor than the last one, and possibly the same level of drunkenness. He had a good deal of bruises, obviously already a bit in Elijah waited for the person to go for another punch, before he moved his head down quickly to headbutt him. The person seemed to be taken aback by the sudden maneuver, and stumbled back into the wall. An additional hit to his head was not very good it seemed, as his back slid down the wall. He made a groaning sound at his pain (presumably). Elijah shook his head, walking up to the person. He kneeled down to his level, and gave his trademark smirk.

"I'm going to have fun with you." Elijah's icy eyes glistened with some dark intent, and he pulled out a throwing knife. He dragged the tip lightly across the man's neck, and the drunk seemed fairly scared. Elijah used it to cut down the person's shirt and removed it from his torso. He examined the person's bare chest, and he gave a slight nod. "Not bad muscle mass. Do you work for a farmer? A relative perhaps?" When he received an un-intelligent bumble of mumbling, Elijah got quite the chuckle. What a pathetic excuse of life. "It's quite a shame you won't remember how you got this." Without warning, Elijah took his throwing knife and dug it into the man's chest. Deep enough to scar. He dragged it down the side to make one big vertical line. Then he proceeded to make three horizontal lines from the vertical gash.

Elijah stood up to grin at the sight of his work, stepping back a step. Perfect! He turned away from the bloody 'E' he cut on the man's chest, and calmly walked up to the exit. Elijah leaned on the door frame, waiting for the others.
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  #30    
Old July 24th, 2012, 04:08 PM
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Cassandra Alexandera- Dalenham, the Broken Keg



The sounds of war filled Cass' mind. The roars of men, the cries of women and children, the carnage of battle and the smell of blood all painted a picture of this beautiful chaos in her head. A vision was constructed before her and it was pleasant. Was she dreaming? She wouldn't put it past her. It had happened before. But it was different. It was like she was in the battle, not observing it.

"You dumb b*tch!" Cass heard a burly man roar. His breath stunk of a cheap ale and she could feel the saliva launch from his mouth all over her deceptively delicate features. He grabbed her by the collar of her low cut shirt, stealing a peek of her assets. This all felt too real to be a dream, and it was making her…uncomfortable. Surprisingly so. "I am going to do terrible things to you, and you are going to enjoy every moment of it, aren't ya?" More saliva. Lovely. Cass was still out of it. That fire ale must of been stronger than she thought. How did that Alys woman stand it? Looked like a total wimp. Cass needed to stop underestimating people. The feeling in her hands were returning though, but her head was still woozy. The thick wind from the man's putrid mouth was getting closer and an intoxicated group of men gathered around. Cass was surrounded and she felt….pressured to act. To defend herself. To fight back. But she felt weak. Helpless. Didn't she get knocked out a few moments ago? Some pretty boy did it too.

Ugh, Cass thought to herself. What's wrong with me?! Why am I getting rusty? I only killed like 42 orcs today too. My body count was at least 69 the other day. I made sure to get that number too. Cass felt a tear run down her cheeks.

"Oh hey guys! The ***** is crying. How cute! She must realize how ****ed she is!"

"Not exactly," Cass said, subconsciously. She had no idea what came over herself. "That tear was for you."

"Eh?" A suddenly a loud crack echoed through the Broken Keg, living up to its namesake. The man who had grabbed Cassandra was sprawled out on the floor, his left leg limp as if every bone shattered into pieces. The encircling crowd was speechless. Dumbfounded, even. In its wake, Cass fixed her outfit, cleaning herself off a bit.

"Who's next?" She said, cracking her neck and knuckles.

(OOC: Cue fight scene. Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C8u-RhLEzis)

Cass kicked up a stool from under a local patron, grabbed in midair and broke it over the head of an attacking patron, dodged another attack and drove a leftover piece of wood into the leg of another. A quick quarter turn lead to a mean left hook in which Cass could feel the man's face mold around her fist as she launched the man into the ground. Two more men attacked at the same time and Cass stumbled over her feet, unable to keep her balance. The alcohol was slowing her down. One grabbed her from behind and the other punched her in the gut. The man kept up his assault until Cass swung her legs up and kicked the man back, causing him to fall back into a table. Cass flung her head back, knocking the man who grabbed her square in the noise with a loud crunch. She freed herself and then lifted her knee into the man's groin, making him fall back in pain.

More victims threw themselves at Cass, and she dodged the attacks with a clumsy dance of steps, often throwing the attackers into one another with a mix trips, elbows, punches and headbutts. Cass made her way to the bar, fighting through the crowds with a few cuts and open wounds. A couple of brutes thought it was clever to pull out their knives and slash at Cass, but she disposed of them easily enough by driving their knives into their shoulders with a fancy parry she learned from Varian. At the bar, she drove two attackers heads into the counter leaving a little bloodstain as a reminder. She kicked up another bar stool and threw through the crowd, parting them and making a straight line back to her sword that was left on the ground. She returned to its resting place on her back and stood in the middle of tavern, hiding from the fight to catch her breath.

The door out of the Broken Keg was blocked. Far too much fighting to go through and she didn't want to kill anyone. Dalenham was too important of a city to be wanted in. A small fickle of brilliance came over her, which was surprising. Cass was never one for bright ideas. That was Varian's speciality. She was only really good at fighting and surviving. Cass grabbed a relatively innocent bystander and chucked him out the window with a thunderous smash of shattering glass. Cass dived out the window after that instant, rolled on to the cobblestone street.

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  #31    
Old July 25th, 2012, 05:41 AM
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It was justified
 
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Varian Sigmund- Dalenham, the Broken Keg



Varian had a plan. It wasn’t a very good one, given that the people of Vanaheim had naturally larger bodies than most of the other nations. Nevertheless, what Varian wanted to do most in this barfight was to simply observe. He wanted to watch how the others of his group fought. He wanted to see what tactics they used, what fighting styles they employed, how they used their surroundings, and maybe even how they fought alongside each other. A barfight was the perfect chance for Varian to get a good look at his new team for the upcoming job they had, and get some ideas on assigning them roles in the team based on their strengths and weaknesses. Besides, they say in Hyrus that you can’t join a mercenary group until you’ve had at least one good barfight. This could sort of be like an initiation.

Of course, all that didn’t matter because of the fact that he was being targeted apart of this as well. Though he may not be the tallest or biggest Highman these patrons ever saw, he happened to be in the center of the entire entanglement, and therefore a prime target. A man came at him with a fists flailing, clearly drunk but with Varian as his intended target. As the man leaned in for a punch to Varian’s face, he sidestepped and placed a leg in front of his feet, causing him to stumble over. Varian brought him down indefinitely with a punch to the back of the head. He looked over just in time to see Alys sidestep a rather large man and causing him to run straight into the side of the tavern.

Fast. Varian noted in his mind, just as a bottle came flying at Varian. He ducked at it, the bottle instead crashing into the wall behind him. Alys was then hit on her shoulder, which Varian could tell was probably injured from before. Out of pain, she collapsed on the ground. Not bodily strong. Varian thought in his mind, but as he thought this, a precise kick to the man’s knee caused it to most likely break. But…resourceful. He thought again. Varian was suddenly hit from behind with what he believed to be a kick to his back. Varian grunted in pain, and turned to face his attacker, a smaller man, and quite stocky as well. He was grinning, believing his preemptive move was all the advantage he needed to finish off Varian. Fool.

Varian intercepted his next punch, and squeezed down on his wrist, which produced a shriek of pain from the man. The man, desperate to try to free himself, launched his other arm at Varian’s face, which was also intercepted by Varian’s hand. Varian then proceeded to give the man a headbutt right to his face. The force of the hit must have immediately knocked him out, but to be sure, Varian picked him up and dropped him onto a table nearby, breaking it in half under the weight of the fat man.

He looked up, just in time to see Alys in the arms of another muscular patron. He thought of helping for a moment, but saw that Ava had already taken up that role. Willing to come to the aid of a comrade. He noted about her. It was good. Often, groups of mercenaries came only to care about their own lives and little or none for the others of the group. Her next move was something the likes of which he hadn’t seen…probably ever. A few quick gashes from a broken bottle, followed by a lemon on the wound. Unconventional, but effective. He thought. That would be useful, someone who thought quickly on their feet.

A bottle suddenly hit Varian on the back of the head, causing him to fall to the floor in pain. He momentarily thought he would black out, but shook his head and attempted to come to his senses. He felt the back of his head, and looked at his hand to see a bit of blood on it. Varian turned to his attacker. It was the same man from the League of Warriors that partially initiated the fight to begin with. “On your feet, Highman! I’ll take you on fairly. Let’s see how a warrior of the north fights!”

Idiot.Varian shook his head as he reached for a shard of glass from the bottle on the floor, and hid it in his hand as he slowly rose up. Then, in one swift movement, Varian stuck the shard right on the eye of the person. He yelled out, holding his eye in pain as blood began to flow from the wound. He flailed at a few tables around. “This isn’t a joust. There is no fair, there is no honor. There’s just you and me, and anything we want to use as weapons.” The man began to show signs of recovery from the immense pain of his eye to glare angrily at Varian, read to attack. Varian in the meantime, grabbed a stool, and threw it on the man, causing him to cover up, and allowing Varian to run right at the man and elbow him right on the jaw, seemingly knocking him out right before he hit the ground with a deep thud.

Varian turned just in time to see Elijah get connected by a punch to the face, but not backing down to much. Can take a punch. As the drunk man facing Elijah went in for the second punch, Elijah retaliated with a quick move and a headbutt. A quick thinker, and strength to match it. He then proceeded to enjoy his victory over the man with his knife. Varian didn’t particularly like the unnecessary gesture, but then again after the punch he first delivered to Elijah, it may have been simply retaliation. Either way, it revealed a bit about his character to Varian. He took one more look at the three newcomers. There was both some good and bad about them all, but for the most part, he was pretty impressed with them.

Varian turned once more to get a look at Cassandra, but really, after years in her company, was there anything else he needed to see about her? She was absurdly good with her blade for her size, and able to come up with the most irregular means of fighting an opponent he had ever seen. And that was when she was drunk. Despite thinking that this barfight did give him some insight on the others, Cassandra proved to Varian a long time ago that what you see with your eyes isn’t always what you’re going to get. He was sure there was much more to the others, but that would have to be seen as he continues to fight alongside them, if they manage to stay alive long enough, that is.

However, as Cassandra chucked a man out of the window of the bar, it seemed like a signal for Varian that it was perhaps time to get the hell out of there. No doubt, guards would have heard the commotion by now, and were on the way to put whoever began the fray in jail. Varian pushed through the other patrons still going at it, and reached Alys and Ava.

“Oi! Come on, we’re getting out of here.” He headed for the end of the bar, where he signaled for Elijah to follow as well. The tavern window was broken from the man Cass threw out, but as Varian burst through it a second time, a larger area was open to climb out of, easing the passage for the other three. He walked over to Cass, helping her onto her feet. “Come on. Let’s move away before the guards appear.” He said, leading them over to a smaller street away from the main marketplace.

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  #32    
Old July 30th, 2012, 11:37 AM
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A good drink. Yes, a good long drink was exactly what Tyson needed now. He had been on the road for three days, travelling to Dalenham from Kirkland. He had hoped that he would find work here but that would come later. First he needed a drink, then maybe a hot bath and a good nights rest before he started looking for a job.

As he walked through the markets of Dalenham he remembered a tavern that he had drunk in last time he was in town. The broken keg was it? Anyway the name didn't matter, the ale was the right price for what you got and the grub wasn't too bad either.

He found it sooner, rather than later and ambled inside. The usual sorts were inside peasants, soldiers, a few merchants and traders. They were all drinking, gambling or passing the time some other way and ignored the intrusion of one rather large man from Falke. He headed straight for the bar where the barkeeper greeted him.

“What can I get you?” The barkeeper asked.

“A pint O' stout!” Tyson's gruff voice bellowed over the din in the tavern. He turned to look around the room as the barman poured his drink. To one side of the hall sat a group of mercenaries much like himself, maybe they would have work for him. He paid for his drink and began to walk over. The leader of the group seemed to be the Highman, but the way the rowdy red head sat next to him was acting she could easily be mistake for being in charge.

"You'll forgive me if I don't share my name, but I came with the job offer under the intention of secrecy. Had I not wanted that, I would have chosen a more…direct way of getting my daughter back to me. This offer shall only come once. Either accept it, or do not.” A potential client was talking to them and Tyson was only just able to hear him over the crowd. Good, Tyson though to himself if they don't have work I can get some from that guy. He was just about to take his first swig of his ale when a rather merry fellow brushed past him. The drunkard slopped Tyson's ale all over the pair of them.

“What do ya' think ya' playing at!” Tyson yelled at the red faced drunk going red in the face himself.

“No harm was intended squire.” The drunk hiccuped, rather scared by Tyson's outburst. “Please allow me to buy you another drink.” He slurred, heading over to the bar.

“Aye. Ya' better had.” Tyson mumbled under his breath.

“Another drink for my friend here and one for me.” the drunk requested the barkeeper, who poured the drinks and took the drunk's money. Tyson snatched his drink up and glared at the drunk but let him be. He turned back round to find the group of mercenaries to find that a bar fight had erupted in the middle of the tavern. Well what do you expect when all the peoples of Hyrus are all drunk in the same room someone's bound to get insulted.

“Curse you Dabel! What's a man got to do to earn a drink!” Tyson said placing his pint on the bar as a man charged at him. The man was intoxicated, Tyson only extended his arm and he ran onto it. There was a crunching sound and the man covered his nose. Tyson wasted no time in finishing the man off, he grabbed his hair and slammed him into the bar face first. He gazed across the room to follow the movement of the group of mercenaries before looking round for who was next. Another man rushed at Tyson with a knife, the fool. Tyson let the blade stop dead on his mail shirt before grabbing the man's wrist. The man began to shout and tried to pry Tyson's hand off but he wasn't all that strong. Taking the man's hand over the bar Tyson pulled his hammer out with the other and in one swift motion he smashed the hammer down on the man's hand. Then he let go of his wrist and shoved him away, whimpering into the crowd. That ought to teach him a lesson Tyson though to himself.

The fray continued and Tyson began to barge his way through the brawl but it was slow going. He stopped every few steps and threw a few punches to clear himself a path. The odd hit caught him but he always hit back harder. The group were starting to leave so Tyson redoubled his efforts. He grabbed a chair one of the few the tavern had and swung to clear a path till it broke. He began to climb through the hole in the window made by the group's exit when some one grabbed him and tried to pull him back into the brawl. Using his weight against them he let himself fall out of the window and onto the cobbles below pulling his attacker with him. Then he used a wrestling move to pin the man to the floor while he punched him in the face. By the time he was done the man was unconscious and Tyson's sleeves were splattered with droplets of blood. He got up and walked over to the Highman.

“I hear you've got a job. Need another pair of hands?” Tyson asked.
  #33    
Old July 30th, 2012, 06:43 PM
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Victoria "Alys" Taimor - The Broken Keg, Dalenham



Victoria didn't have time to thank Ava as she was lost into the fray of flying fists and hurtling bottles. The floor beneath her feet was covered in shards of glass and wood amongst a mixture of blood, sweat and mead. She was injured more than before; her shoulder now aching much more than it had before and several cuts were slowly coagulating on her face and bare skin.

Victoria looked around her, trying to find a way to escape, but all around her, hot, angry bodies collided with each other. The bad backed onto the far side of the tavern, possibly opening up into an alleyway or into a house beyond where the owners live; either way, it was a no go. The door was somewhere off to the side, but would be blocked by most of the fighting if it hadn't already sprawled out onto the streets. Over the roar of the crowd, she heard the sharp, shattering sound of a window being broken and an idea finally formed in her mind.

With her arm out of order for the time being, Victoria crawled beneath a small, two person table just as soon as someone was dragged off of it to join the brawl. On her knees with her back straight against the flat wood of the table, she took a couple of breaths in order to prepare herself. What she was about to do was crazy, but she still continued to look behind her, waiting for the perfect moment where her way would be free.

There! The light streamed through the window covering Victoria's body in it's white glow and she suddenly launched up from her feet, wheeling backwards and feeling the table collide with the window, glass showering down upon her. Turning quick before someone grabbed her, Victoria vaulted with her un-injured arm, leaving the hot, sticky brawl behind and feeling a cool wave of air wash over her.

Victoria's moment of victory was short lived as she noticed Varian and Cassandra standing off to her left, heading away from the front of the tavern. Looking around, she could not see any sign of Ava and was tempted to jump back into the brawl to find her. Retreating into the shadows across the road from the tavern, she watched patiently for Ava to exit, all the while trying to keep an eye on the general direction in which Varian and Cass had run off to.
  #34    
Old August 2nd, 2012, 11:23 AM
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Colin Arcamenel- Top of Ekilore

The Eunuch stood by the door to the monks, hands hidden under his sleeves and waiting. It was silent here, no person daring to speak or fidget. It may have been from acts of politeness, a lack of words, or possible the effect of the room itself. Colin had thought to say something, but no words came out of his mouth. Somehow the act of speech seemed... Rude.

The waiting Eunuch told them to follow soon after. There had been no word, beep, or meaningful movement at all, yet somehow he knew. It was strange to Colin, but he wouldn't question the power of the monks. There were many things many people didn't know about them. In a file Colin took a short staircase into what seemed like an observatory. In the middle of the room the group was surrounded by miniature thrones that seated monks in their robings. Their faces could not be discerned because they were hidden behind hoods. It was only a single out of a seven that stood out of his seat, gazing out at what Colin already knew was a breath taking view of the world. The monk turned to face them and came off his platform to a closer distance. He was a tall man with a perfect posture and a strong build for a man of his (assumed) age. He looked young, which was also a surprise. The monk's appearance succeeded in making Colin wary. The red eyes of the monks made no effort to ease him. A strong voice escaped the mouth of this youthful elder. He thanked them and, after a look over each of them, gave them a short introductory speech before telling them what they'd been called here for.

An orb, apparently. One that had been shattered and split across all of Hyrus. It was valuable to some for its rarity, but its worth was in its power, which the monks seemed to be after. They would need to put it together and bring it back here, he assumed. The remaining monks called out the reward of their adventure. Fame, fortunate, pleasure, and more. It sounded like a fine deal, but a small thing nagged at him. Made him unsure.

One of the knights asked a question concerning the true power of the orb. His worried mimicked Colin's quite accurately and, the two of them not alone, the Reigncliff knight agreed with him. The monks did speak quite vaguely, as if they didn't know or they weren't telling. Colin had very little reason to believe the monks were short on the knowledge of something. That too, there are many definitions to a cleanse. What were their views on a "better Hyrus" exactly? Colin didn't want to put evil intentions on the monks, surely they were the purest men, but the unease that birthed from the seventh monk's presence made it hard for the thought to lie still. He'd keep the idea to himself, for now. Still, he'd like to know.

"Yes," Colin chimed in as well, "the both of them have very strong points. Is it possible to tell us more about the Orb? You all have great wisdom, and combined, even more. You'd told us 'if the rumors are true'. Are they? With your premonitions and your wisdom to guide you, you could tell us the power of this Orb? And what effect it would have on Hyrus and its inhabitants."

Effects, of course, which must be--certainly--good.
  #35    
Old August 2nd, 2012, 04:51 PM
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AVA - The Broken Keg, Dalenham

Quite disappointed that Alys hadn't asked her question, Avangeline stepped back as she dodged an incoming bottle. The fight was far less dignified now (if it had ever been so) with men now far more drunken and far more ravaged than before, as if losing this bar fight meant a war between two countries. This fight was far too tedious now. It was probably time to go.

A shattering of glass was the cue for them to leave as Avangeline spotted a man tumbling on the other side. Well, that was a way to make an exit.

"Oi! Come on, we’re getting out of here," Varian only encouraged them and Avangeline managed to get a good look of the other women who had chosen the window instead of the door; Alys seemed to have made it safely out. Varian and Cass also chose the window and Avangeline didn't want to break the tradition. Instead of making her way through the crowd, she jumped onto an unbroken table and used heads and shoulders as stepping stones to make for the window. When she was close enough, she dived and rolled onto her shoulder as she hit the ground. And that was it.

It wasn't hard to spot Alys on the other side of the road, so Avangeline skipped over to meet her. In her peripheral vision, she could see Cass and Varian away from the tavern.

"Well, wasn't that fun!" Avangeline said with an enthusiastic smile. "We should do it again sometime," She gave a giggle and grabbed Alys' hand. "C'mon, let's go!"
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  #36    
Old August 3rd, 2012, 08:01 PM
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Varian Sigmund- Dalenham



Varian looked back to see Alys waiting for the others to get out. Varian stopped moving and decided to wait a few moments for them to come, while still keeping a lookout of any guards around. Eventually, Ava came out of the window, and dragged Alys by the hand to the others. Elijah came soon after. Varian was now prepared to go away, but just before he left, another man, a rather large one with bright red hair, scrambled through the window as well. He was held by another man by the leg, but the first man pulled him through the window and wrestled him onto the ground, finishing him off with impressive blows right to the head. Needless to say, Varian was reasonably impressed by the man’s show of strength. When he got up and asked him if he needed another mercenary, Varian was more than willing to accept.

“We could always use another for our job. You’re in. Come on, we should move out of here.”

He led the group away from the bar, neither wishing to run to attract attention to them nor walk and be caught by anyone else that might still want to pursue. However, with each step they took away from the tavern, the noise was slowly being decreased, until no sound of fighting could be heard at all. Varian led the group down the familiar corridor he had been a while ago collecting their spoils from the orc slaying. He took a look at Cass to see her condition, knowing full well that just because she was able to swing her sword effectively only moments before didn’t mean she would be able to walk successfully. She was a woman Varian felt could cut off the head of an enemy in her sleep. While looking at her, Varian decided to observe the condition of the others. They seemed to be for the most part alright, although Alys had a visible wound on her shoulder. He imagined it was nothing to worry about, and decided not to comment on it. He was their mercenary leader, which meant his job was to make sure none of them were dead or dying. He wasn’t their babysitter that would ask them if they had a stomach ache.

Varian walked into the familiar vacant tavern he was in a while before, with Edward still in there, seemingly adjusting something under the counter in front of him. He stopped what he was doing and looked at Varian and the group of people who had just entered, putting up both of his hands as if to say, ‘Don’t look at me, I didn’t do it.’ Edward then spoke.

“Look, I didn’t take any of your damned gold, Varian. It was all in there.” He stated, his eyes darting at all of the mercenaries now in the room.

“Relax, Edward. It’s not about that. We have a job tomorrow and we need a place to lay low for the night.”

“Oh.” Edward said in realization, lowering his arms back onto the counter before picking up one of them and scratching the back of his head. “Unfortunately, all of the rooms here have been previously booked and I can’t offer you any space.”

Varian looked around the empty tavern. It was an obvious lie, and Varian was expecting it, but Varian was quick to respond to Edward. “We have money.”

In a sudden sort of ‘ah-ha!’ realization, Edward seemed to look over a list in front of him and spoke back. “Oh! Would you look at that! A few rooms are actually available up on the second level. Must have utterly slipped my mind. You can go ahead to them when you’re ready.”

Varian nodded and sat down in a chair right beside him. He took in a deep breath and puffed it out as he was finally able to relax. Varian placed his hand on the back of his head where a bottle was hit earlier. He looked at his hand to see remnants of blood still on it, but not enough to believe he had an open wound anymore.

“Right.” Varian began speaking to the others, as he noticed a shard of glass in the side of his arm, most likely from when he jumped through the window on his way out of the bar. “Since we have picked up a few new faces, I’ll explain what is going on in case are unaware. A merchant has just offered us a fairly substantial fee for the rescue of his daughter from a group of brigands of some sort. We are to meet him in front of the Dalenham gates tomorrow and he’ll give us the first part of the payment as well as the background information on where exactly we’re going.”

Varian grunted a bit as he picked a rather large piece of glass out of his shoulder, and place the bloody piece onto the table in front of him. “The name’s Varian Sigmund. If you didn’t know by now, we’re a team. We watch each other’s back, and work together. We don’t go off charging ahead talking about glory and honor, and we don’t do stupid, reckless stunts unless we need to. You work together, and you follow me lead, and everything will go smoothly. If not, you can tell the gods I said hello.”

Varian looked back at the new guy who had arrived, as well as everyone else around, his eyes moving back and forth. “Any questions?”

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  #37    
Old August 5th, 2012, 09:52 PM
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Percival Grey- The top of Ekilore



Percival stood silent. The whole idea of doing a quest for the Monks was a bit overwhelming. Truthfully, he expected this. Perhaps it was the form in which they were summoned, perhaps it was the fact his brother was here (he always did the heroic act, though there was always some ulterior motive) or perhaps it was just intuition. Regardless of the reasoning behind it, Percival knew this was going to happen. But all the anticipation could not prepare him for the reality. It was this feeling of great honor that dumbfounded him, all the while the highman, his brother and even the elf asked questions treating the monk like a regular person.

And their questions were ridiculous.

"Still, I would like to know more about this orb. What exactly does it do, how does it work. For all we know, we may be bringing back the catalyst for the destruction of Hyrus rather than a tool to create peace. No offense, but I don't want to jump blindly into this sort of thing without knowing what exactly out actions will do."

Roland agreed, buying into the conspiracy. It was so like him to question people's motives instead of believing that good could exist in this world. The Elf seemed to agree to, but the suspicion was at least nicely presented. Perhaps decency was not dead. For whatever reason, Percival did not like this group much already.

The leading monk cleared his throat a bit, before handing back the old book to the Eunuch. "Lord Arlen, allow me to first say I do find it more than a bit insulting that you would think that the Monks of Ekilore have any intention of destroying Hyrus after we have devoted generations to serving the greater good. I think our legacy should speak for itself when it comes to our intentions," the monk said staring into the eyes the Highman.

"Now. As far as the Orb of Ardor is concerned, your questions have more merit," the monk continued, freeing his gaze turning his attention to the entire group. "The Orb of Ardor is an artifact from an age in which magic was potent and continuously studied, a far cry from today's Hyrus in which magic is an art that people fear and prosecute. From what research we could complete, the Orb of Ardor contains extraordinary power and knowledge within it. In the proper hands, it could cure disease, stop wars, end famines and perhaps even…cheat death."

"I will not pretend to know everything however. We are the voices of the prophecies, not necessarily the interpreters of them. Our duty is to utter that which we see and hear, not decipher what is being said. The only knowledge given to us by this prophecy is that with it held the power to save this world. Yes, the idea of such an object existing is dubious. Yet throughout the millenniums of our existence, these prophecies have proven to be accurate. We present the opportunity to partake on a quest that could end in creating something that seems so unbelievable, yet now appears to be possible. Is it not worth taking the risk of uncertainty for a purpose far beyond any one individual or country?"

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  #38    
Old August 6th, 2012, 01:11 AM
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Colin Arcamenel- Top of Ekilore

The head monk answered the collected question of the group in a way that made further questions seem strained for a point. While one could further make the questions on the specifications, why would they? It was clearer that the monks goal were no doubt of benevolence, which should be assumed true. The doubt now seemed foolish and further creepings of the near sinful idea were a slight sickening. He'd come into the Tower believing in the good of the monk's mission and once he reached the top his sureness was swayed by the words of another. It was almost like a test with a devil and an angel. It reminded him of the picture at the bottom of the tower. The one that featured the scene of a peasant called by both the divine figure and the logo of evil. This moment seemed to be that very scene in reality. The monk being the angel and Arlen, the devil, causing them to look the other way.

The similarity, like a warning tap from a mother, reminded him to keep his guard and to also keep his faith. As his trust in the monks increased his wariness grew as well.

"It is worth every ounce of strength," Colin answered to the monk's question. "I apologize for my outburst of doubt, it was shamefully displaced. With such an opportunity, how could one not put forth their purest intentions when such good could be achieved? For an orb so powerful and capable, I will gladly partake in this quest as both an honored soul and a servant to Hyrus."

Last edited by Kikpanther; August 6th, 2012 at 01:34 AM.
  #39    
Old August 6th, 2012, 01:37 AM
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Roland Grey- The top of Ekilore



The response of the elf was similar to that of Roland’s and Arlen’s. The monk with the strange eyes cleared his throat as he spoke back to the Highman first. It was a strange feeling Roland had whenever the monk. It was as if everyone word he uttered demanded absolute attention, as if everything he said would be important. Roland had met few men in his life that had his effect on him. It was usually him who would have the effect on another, or so he imagined. He knew very many who admired him this way, after all. But this was different. When the monk finished addressing Arlen, he addressed the rest of them, with the same imposing voice that demanded their respect and attention. The mention of magic distilled a bit of anxiety in Roland, none of which he physically displayed, but instead harbored inside of him. Magic was, after all, a rarity of the current times, and many subjects related to it was often considered taboo. Roland didn’t like the artifacts origin from that area.

Yet what the monks said next made Roland think. The goal of creating something that this world desperately needed was enticing. But it was as the monks said: Was it worth the quest? Roland thought it over. His loyalty lied with Hector and Reigncliff foremost. He would want nothing more than to see his lord sit upon the thrown of Ethora, which is his rightful position. Roland would do anything do bring him there. If what the monks said was true, this orb could help bring him there. Through Roland’s fame and reputation upon its completion, he could be boosted into a more respectable position, which would no doubt help in Hector’s claim to the thrown. But besides all of that, Roland truly recognized that there was something wrong with Hyrus. Maybe it was always like this. Maybe it only recently became thus. Either way, it was in need of fixing, and Roland could think of no one more capable of doing so than himself. The elf answered first, accepting the quest. Roland pulled out his sword from its sheath.

“This quest is indeed befitting of one such as me. I vow to gather these shards and place them back together. I will not falter, and every foe that will stand in my way, no matter where he may hail from, shall be felled in pursuit of this cause. Let it be known that upon this day, Roland of the House Grey, champion of Reigncliff, will see this mission done.”

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  #40    
Old August 6th, 2012, 07:51 PM
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Victoria “Alys” Taimor – Dalenham



Victoria smiled as she watched Ava gracefully remove herself from the rapidly deteriorating bar and skip merrily across to her. “Well wasn’t that fun!” she said, enthusiastically smiling at Victoria before giggling and grabbing her hand, “We should do it again sometime, c’mon, let’s go!” Victoria wasn’t too keen on the whole ‘do it again’ business; she had barely gotten out of there and was even injured from the fighting. However she did let Ava pull her over to follow behind Varian, Cass and a couple of new guys.

“My secret?” Victoria’s heart began racing as she thought about all that she had left behind, not wanting to allude to any details less Ava pick up on something. “I am like the legendary ninja’s of Shinguo; fast, deadly and a force to be reckoned with!” She giggled at her lack of originality.

They soon made it to another inn where Varian began a heated debate over vacancies with the inn keeper before obviously winning as the inn-keeper announced rooms free on the second floor for them. Glad to have an actual bed as opposed to the hay stacks and hard ground Victoria had been sleeping on lately, Victoria relaxed in a seat next to Varian, listening intently as he discussed their current situation and next mission to save a daughter of a merchant.

“The name is…I mean I am Alys, a Ranger of Raelus,” Victoria inwardly kicked herself for slipping back into her old accent and way of talking, hoping no one else noticed. She had been around enough Raelusian Merchants that she could mimic their accent to a degree; only someone from Raelus or nearby would be able to pick it up. “Are we going to be in any more inn fights?”
  #41    
Old August 7th, 2012, 04:13 PM
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AVA - Dalenham

The bar they had stumbled into was worse than The Broken Keg and far emptier too. It didn't smell as bad, most likely because of the lack of patrons, but the sight of it was unkept, dusty and the overall feel was not homely, like a tavern should. Nevertheless, Avangeline followed her mercenary group in and listened as Varian briefed them.

"The name’s Varian Sigmund. If you didn’t know by now, we’re a team. We watch each other’s back, and work together. We don’t go off charging ahead talking about glory and honor, and we don’t do stupid, reckless stunts unless we need to. You work together, and you follow me lead, and everything will go smoothly. If not, you can tell the gods I said hello. Any questions?"

Teamwork. That wasn't something that Avangeline was particularly used to, but it wouldn't hurt to learn. Most of the time, she had fought with others but never with strategy or tactics. She was good, she knew it, like she always told herself, and never thought to bother with silly things like 'stab them in the weak spot'. Because she already knew the weak spot.

"The name is…I mean I am Alys, a Ranger of Raelus. Are we going to be in any more inn fights?"

"I hope so! Inn fights are fun!" Avangeline gave a bright smile to her companions. "I am Ava, a red-scarfed half-Elven maiden. Or maybe I'm a witch. I've been called a lot of names," Avangeline shrugged with a giggle. "I do have a question though; does our band of mercenaries have a name? Or sigil? Though we may be temporary, it's always better to have a name that others can fear. And write into history."
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  #42    
Old August 9th, 2012, 10:42 PM
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From the moment he'd set sail through the treacherous waters surrounding his homelands ... From the second he and hus shipmates set sail for Ekilore a mere month before... Even last the awkward promotion he'd received from King Calason a while before as well ... Despite all of these happenings, despite his mind racing a mile a minute with random queries and thoughts ... Up until the moment where he'd reached the top of Oculus Tower in Ekilore, Ladamer Loure Vanhaussen hardly uttered a word between that time.

The sound of his voice and slightly startled him as he mused it. It came out smoothly and violable enough, but Ladamer hadn't heard it in so long that the coarseness surrounding it made him blanch, if only for a brief moment.

"While I do wish to accept an invitation from such honorable and humble an eunuch such as yourself," he said under his meager hoarseness. "...I do find it hard to believe that such a trifle ... stone could, by itself mind you, stop sickness and hunger alike ..." He turned to one Percival Grey and his compatriot as he spoke. "I for one find the concept to be distastefully ridiculous ..."

Surely the looks he was about to receive from the other "knights" amongst him weren't those of approval. After all, Ladamer was now the only one who appeared to not want anything to DO with finding this "Stone of Ardor"...

It was what a monk responded with in turn, that made Ladamer change his mind.

"King Calason denied us his audience then, I suppose ... Lord Vanhaussen?" an eunuch said with his arms dauntingly flailing inside the sleeves if his robing.

The monks words came out as a surprise to Ladamer, who hadn't told anyone of his courtship, or of his newfound position in Raelus' palace. Despite the fact, being addressed as a "lord" by the eunuch disrupted him inside a smidgen.

"A pity, that ..." the monk continued speaking of Calason's absence. "I'd heard many Ola tale of his workings throughout the countryside ... The "Sea of Flames" I've heard it called, when he went to war not so long ago..." Crossing along the other onlookers among him, Ladamer watched as the monk walked over to him. "Tell me, young sir ... was that incident of your doing?"

Ladamer was more than insulted. "...And what of it if it was?! I shall not be under question for wars that weren't of my doing! I was but a child when this occurred ..."

"And yet, you still wish it hadn't ... Am I correct, Vanhaussen?"

With shocked stuttering, Ladamer quickly responded. "It isn't my place to question my king's decisions once his mind be set on accomplishing them... If so, there would've been many a war we would have never taken to. Not just this, "Sea of Flame" as you call it.

The monk knew very well that what he was doing was working. Once he'd shown Ladamer a different perspective, surely he'd join the others on the quest with no objections. "Does it really have to be you contesting his rule, Ladamer? What if you obtained the power to end the reasoning behind wars, and still serve loyalty to your King in Raelus?"

Ladamer shook his head. "...There can be no such power ..."

"Ah! But there CAN! Which is what brought about us summoning you all here. Find the shattered pieces and return them here once they're all collected. Then, then you'll see, squire. You'll see that there can indeed be an end to famine, to conspiracy of war and the death that always follows.

"...Think of the Lamapoureans that could only wish they'd had this type of power ..."

It may have been a lowblow to use the deaths and enslavement of his people as an example for this quest, but Ladamer couldn't disagree that the monk had a point.

As if he'd needed more goading, which he really didn't, the monk continued on. "What if there was but ONE chance? What if this Orb of Ardor could hold the key?"

"Alright!" Ladamer voiced, echoing across the observatory. "...I see no need to object it any further ..." He turned back to the others in the room and bowed his apologies. "...I, Ladamer Vanhaussen of royal Lamapourean blood ... humbly accept this quest, and shall join you all on this journey ..."

And while it was completely out of character for him to do so, he removed his hands from his sleeve and patted the young eunuch on his back three times before quietly walking back into the fray of warriors ...
  #43    
Old August 13th, 2012, 08:40 AM
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We could always use another for our job. You’re in. Come on, we should move out of here.” The leader said, as another few mercenaries joined them. He lead them away through the back streets of Dalenham. Despite this being a seemingly unsafe thing to do no one was foolish enough to try to attack such a heavily armed group, as such the journey was uneventful. They entered another tavern and the groups leader took them to a man he seemed to know. They talked for a few seconds before the leader stated that the group wanted rooms for the night and they sorted the arrangements.
Then the leader sat down in a chair next to the man and started to check his wounds.

“Right. Since we have picked up a few new faces, I’ll explain what is going on in case are unaware. A merchant has just offered us a fairly substantial fee for the rescue of his daughter from a group of brigands of some sort. We are to meet him in front of the Dalenham gates tomorrow and he’ll give us the first part of the payment as well as the background information on where exactly we’re going. The name’s Varian Sigmund. If you didn’t know by now, we’re a team. We watch each other’s back, and work together. We don’t go off charging ahead talking about glory and honor, and we don’t do stupid, reckless stunts unless we need to. You work together, and you follow me lead, and everything will go smoothly. If not, you can tell the gods I said hello. Any questions?” The leader said picking a piece of glass out of one of his wounds and placing it on the table. A simple grunt was all that Tyson gave in response to his short speech. Team work, as long as he got to fight and more importantly got paid there wouldn't be a problem. But that bit about not charging off, that could be a little harder for him to handle.

“The name is…I mean I am Alys, a Ranger of Raelus, are we going to be in any more inn fights?” A young woman, the Archer of the group introduced herself.


"I hope so! Inn fights are fun! I am Ava, a red-scarfed half-Elven maiden. Or maybe I'm a witch. I've been called a lot of names, I do have a question though; does our band of mercenaries have a name? Or sigil? Though we may be temporary, it's always better to have a name that others can fear. And write into history.” The she-elf said, she had a pair of crossed broadswords strapped across her back, which Tyson would be surprised if she could wield. But then again elves were known for being strong despite their fragile looks.

Tyson Reeves or Red to those that know me. Ma question is when do we finish up here so I can get a drink?” Tyson said, looking around the group, he was still making his mind up who he would trust to watch his back. He wasn't one for working with people but a big group like this gets bigger jobs and that means needing someone around.
  #44    
Old August 15th, 2012, 08:28 PM
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Varian Sigmund and Cassandra Alexandera- Dalenham, Edward's Tavern



“The name is…I mean I am Alys, a Ranger of Raelus,” Alys announced. Varian looked at her suspiciously, but did not speak. He had dealt with few Raelusians before in his life, but enough to garner their reputation as a very different sort of people than Alys was. Still, he had barely known her to begin with, so it wasn’t fair to judge her in that way. Either way, whether she was harboring a secret or not was none of Varian’s business. He imagined they all had some sort of mystery they would rather keep to themselves, and Varian didn’t care much either way. She then asked if there was going to be any more inn fights. Varian thought the question a bit funny, if only because he assumed she really didn’t care for inn fights at all. The funny thing about inn fights to Varian however, was their unpredictability. Inn fights were like the weather. You can’t really prophesize when one will happen, but just before the storm, you’ll see it coming.

"I hope so! Inn fights are fun!" Ava said, before introducing herself cheerfully. Of the group, Varian would have to say that she seemed the most jovial and positive of the group. "I do have a question though; does our band of mercenaries have a name? Or sigil? Though we may be temporary, it's always better to have a name that others can fear. And write into history."

Varian leaned back and thought about that for a moment. The thought of adding a name to them, or at the very least a sigil or banner did seem like an enticing thing to do. Varian never cared much for such things to begin with, but the prospect of potentially remaining with this group for a while did seem like there was merit to doing so. Besides, if the group would somehow become quite renowned, it would bolster their ability to get clients. “A name, eh? Might not be a bad idea…we can think about it, see if we can come up with something later…”

The newcomer, who referred to himself as Tyson Reeves, or simply ‘Red’, posed another question regarding drinks they could get. Varian shook his head, before turning to an inebriated Cassandra. “Looks like we’ve found you another drinking partner, Cass.” Varian said to her. “Assuming you can hold your drink, that is.” He turned back to Tyson. “Well, you had your chance to drink at the Broken Keg. Eveamoorian guards by now are probably all out tonight just itching for a chance to throw some drunken fool in the dungeon, and I’m going to need all of you for the assignment tomorrow. Preferably sober.” He declared, shooting a glance to Cass.

"Oh right! That reminds me!" Cass exclaimed and leapt from the chair with a slight wobble. She carried herself to the bar. "Oi! Edward! Get me something!"

"Don't ya think you've had enough?"

Cass narrowed her eyes before grabbing the bartender by his collar. "Listen to me you little weasel! I am thirsty! You owe me some money from when I saved your skinny ass from those bandits. Now replace my money with some booze before I drive your face through the bar and steal every drop of your cheap piss!" Edward gulped before pouring a glass of something. Cass scoffed and knocked over the meager glass, snatching the bottle from Edward's hands. Varian, who was watching Cass converse with Edward, shook his head. He spoke back to the group.

“Do what you like. Sleep. Go out into the city. Get into a fight or two. Explore Dalenham. Get a few more drinks. Talk about your life stories to each other. I don’t care. But whatever you decide to do, be in front of the town gates at dawn, or we’ll leave without you.”

Varian said no other words to them as he got up from his seat and proceeded to the upstairs bedrooms. Killing orcs and then getting tangled up in that barfight was quite a weary day, and Varian wasn’t about to ruin a perfect chance of coin by doing anything else stupid tonight. He was sure even thought Cass will end up getting into some sort of trouble tonight, she’ll be fine by tomorrow. She always is.

"You call this booze! I call it water!" Cass roared. "Now where is your dog? I need to kill something."

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  #45    
Old August 16th, 2012, 04:37 PM
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Percival Grey- The top of Ekilore



The monk weakly smiled as everyone seemed to fall into line. The elf, Colin Arcamenel, apologized for his insolence and seemed moved to undertake the quest: "I apologize for my outburst of doubt, it was shamefully displaced. With such an opportunity, how could one not put forth their purest intentions when such good could be achieved? For an orb so powerful and capable, I will gladly partake in this quest as both an honored soul and a servant to Hyrus."

"Very good, Lord Arcamenel. Your participation in this endeavor will be noted and your legend will be told throughout the land," the monk said with a nod of his head.

“This quest is indeed befitting of one such as me. I vow to gather these shards and place them back together. I will not falter, and every foe that will stand in my way, no matter where he may hail from, shall be felled in pursuit of this cause. Let it be known that upon this day, Roland of the House Grey, champion of Reigncliff, will see this mission done.”

The monk raised a eyebrow, amazed by the enthusiasm of Roland. "While your desire to be the champion of the land is welcome, do not dare think you can do this alone. Pride comes before the fall."

He took a glance at the others, taking their silence as a solemn acceptance of their quest. Being speechless was to be expected, as the Monk had slammed their so much information that only the strongest of minds would be able to wrap their heads around everything. Percival stood with a low posture, head down, admiring the floor for whatever reason. The Monk cocked his head and looked at him. "Is something wrong, Percival Grey?"

"No, nothing."

"Then I take it that you accept this quest?"

"Yes, of course. I shall do my best to carry out this quest. I just..."

"I would expect nothing less. I see that you have a great destiny before you and that you words and actions will do much to influence the world. Do not let your faith waver," the monk said, appearing to reassure the young noble of Ethora.

"I do have a few words to say before I send out to the world. Firstly, while we have kept knowledge of the Orb of Ardor hidden within the confines of this great tower, they are others who undoubtedly have knowledge of it as well. These nefarious groups will seek you out once word of your actions spread throughout the lands of Hyrus. You must prepared to fight. Blades will bleed and shields will shatter. They will do everything they can to stop you. You must make sure they do not succeed."

"To aid you in setting out on your journey, we have commissioned a ship captained by a….Richard Mayce of the Golden Islands. He will continue to serve as an ally of ours. Do not worry, he has been given a brief summary of the quest. Though, if he does have any questions I would not hide anything from him. It is best to be informed on a quest such as this. My Eunuch friend there will set you out the door. The fate of Hyrus rests in your hands. And may the grace of your Gods guide you."

Percival Grey bowed to the Monks and slowly made his way to the door, awaiting the Eunuch to guide them. "Come with me, my lords. I fear time is not our friend." The Eunuch shuffled his feet to the door, opening it for the others and guided them down the stairs, elevator, and through the grand library back outside on the ground level. Percival Grey welcomed the ground, enjoying the smell of the fresh air of the Deep Blue. Seeing everything from ground level was strangely refreshing, if only because he could see literally the entire world as he knew from the top of the observatory.

"Come with my lords. We must head down to the docks." The Eunuch walked a fair pace down to the docks where a large boat was awaiting them. "Lord Mayce of the Shadow Swan. Please come and greet your fellow Knights."

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  #46    
Old August 16th, 2012, 06:20 PM
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Rickard Mayce - Ekilore Docks


Rickard Mayce stood at the helm of the Shadow Swan, a triple decked war galley boasting three sails and 300 oars. The figurehead was not the traditional mermaid but rather a woman with wings spread as if to catch the winds and glide to shore. The sails were a brilliant white and the banner which hung from the tallest mast sported an ebony swan soaring over a sea of crimson, its neck entwined around a sword of silver. Rickard himself was clad in dark, salt stained leathers and a cloak of black feathers fastened at the shoulder with a clasp in the shape of the swan. His only metal armour was a dull and scratched steel plate over his right breast which bore the same sigil as that which adorned the ships banner. He strode across the ship to the edge of gang plank as he heard the monk’s summons. Glaring down at the group below he grimaced and descended to the wooden jetty his ship had been moored to.

As he descended the steep plank he took his first true look about the island. A barren land with little scenery of interest bar the docks and the tower. The tower stretched high into the heavens, the top obscured from view by the clouds which swirled about it as though drawn by some force.

“I am no Lord, eunuch. My lord father saw to that, just as the man who cut you saw to your own fate; nor am I any knight…I’m here for the promise of gold…nothing more and nothing less,” as he spoke this he met the gaze of each person in turn. He raised his voice as he began to address the entire group, “I was led to believe I would be aiding men and women of skill and reputation. I did not expect to be dragging around this mummers farce,” his stare settled on Ser Roland Grey and his eyes screamed disgust at the foppish man before him. After a short pause Rickard cleared his throat and began to speak once more, “You have been informed that this ship is indeed the Shadow Swan, the flagship of my trading fleet. There is enough room on board for a horse per person and enough cots for those who wish to bring a squire. You will be bunking with the crew and are expected to work while aboard. Does anyone have any questions or objections?” He stood awaiting their answers.

Last edited by Arctos; August 16th, 2012 at 10:06 PM.
  #47    
Old August 17th, 2012, 02:15 PM
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It was justified
 
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Roland Grey-The top of Ekilore



After Roland and the others accepted the quest of the Orb of Ardor, the head monk prepared to send them off. "While your desire to be the champion of the land is welcome, do not dare think you can do this alone. Pride comes before the fall." Roland eyed the monk and his words. It wasn't the first time he was scolded by others in this regard, but Roland had proven he was more than capable of balancing what he would call his 'confidence', and his skill. But in an effort not to show disrespect to the monks, he merely nodded in understanding, if only for the sake of their titles.

The monk next mentioned the fact that others would be after them to try to stop them from getting the orb. Roland wonder why this would be so. If the orb truly was the key to 'everlasting peace', why would someone want to prevent it? But a thought had occurred to Roland. Perhaps the orb was capable of multiple abilities, and the ones after it would simply be after a different power, one more selfish and individual.

With these thoughts in mind, and the promise of a ship waiting outside, Roland gave a polite bow to the monks, and casually walked off back down to the bottom of the Tower of Oculus.

***

"Come with my lords. We must head down to the docks." The Eunuch walked a fair pace down to the docks where a large boat was awaiting them. "Lord Mayce of the Shadow Swan. Please come and greet your fellow Knights."

The one called Lord Mayce was quick to dismiss his title bestowed upon him by the eunuch. As with every man Roland found not in his class, he had an immediate displeasure for the man. However, he did respect the man's forwardness about his reasoning. Not everyone would risk their life for honor and glory. Some required less abstract rewards. As he continued speaking, it was obvious how out of line and out of place the man appeared to be, referring to them as a 'mummers farce', giving an especial glance to Roland as he did so.

How dare he? Roland thought to himself. His displeasure towards the man was growing by the second. He then talked about residing with the crew, and the possibility of working whilst on board. Roland couldn't help but let out a chuckle. He decided not to pay the man the pleasure of an answer on that subject, but he knew he had no intention of laboring with work not worth his name. Roland stepped forward, looking over the ship.

"I must say, I expected the vessel to carry us on this most noble quest to be something a bit less...shabby. But I suppose the monks have purposefully commissioned this pile of refuse for the purpose of secrecy and such. It will have to do. I will have my horse and possessions brought upon immediately."

He took his first step onto the ship, before exclaiming and "Oh!" out loud and turning to the captain. "I'm afraid, Mr. Mayce, there may be complications in my ability to provide my services on your ship. You see..." He said, raising his arms up to his upper chest area, showing them to Rickard. "My hands were made to slay the inferior, not work side by side with them." He gave the captain a polite smile and nod of the head, then proceeded onto the ship without another word.

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  #48    
Old September 1st, 2012, 05:50 AM
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Colin Arcamenel- Ekilore Docks


Following his, the Reigncliff knight made it known that he too was willing to go on this quest of quests. Colin raised a brow at the end of his speech. Roland of House Grey? Is that what he'd said? Roland of House Grey! One of the most famous knights in the entirety of Hyrus. A renowned man with stories of victory trailing in his mere footsteps. The women and girls swooned for him and the men and boys wanted to be him. Colin's surprise was almost insulting. Why wouldn't such a capable man be on this which was the utmost of all missions? His surprise should be directed towards himself! He, of all knights, had been selected by the monks themselves to partake in a noble adventure alongside one of the greatest of men. Did this mean that he was considered to be on par with the man? Certainly not. However, did it mean that he'd been dealt a great honor and, maybe even, a blessing from the gods themselves? Yes. This was an opportunity not dealt without preciseness. Those who have been chosen (those present in this room or in the past even) for such an honor have been obviously deemed worthy by some high hand. Colin could not help but smile to himself. Clearly he had done something good in his past or the gods wouldn't be smiling down on him currently. There was no time for such thoughts like that. What he could only do was humble himself and enjoy the days spent in this honor. It would be tragic, in little words, if he were ripped of this opportunity because of pride or self-exaltation for past duties.

While Colin recognized his blessings he also realized his undoings. His smile, almost in an immediate fashion, faded when the monk mentioned a commissioned boat. His relationship with the water was reminded of him and he had to hold back a groan which so desperately wanted to come from his throat. Sailing! Of all things! It was the only way to get out of this place, ridiculous that he'd forget, but still a curse. Then, coupled too, with the knowledge that all knights would sail together? He wondered now if his blessing had been a punishment in disguise or if that last smile had been the absolute last straw and now all good things were being taken from him. He could foresee the rest of this journey becoming shambles for him. The gods must have known that they were undermining him unless propelled food from the gut was their way of giving him a sudden revelation. He tried to quickly recount all of his wrongs. One of them had to have an explanation. He was sure that he'd already been dealt the punishments of the ones he could think of. He remembered that he hadn't seen his father in literally hundreds of years. That childhood decision had seemed to bring only success and great things up until this point. That couldn't be the reason, could it? Colin thought that, maybe, after this journey, assuming he and his father were still alive, he'd pay him short visit. Or a long one if The Nine so preferred. This may have been a long-term lesson in parental appreciation that he'd missed for stacks of decades.

His religious worries lasted until the Eunuch ushered them outside and back down to board the wooden Hell. Once outside, Colin was pleased to see that the crew of his ship were by now ready to leave or either begin a new task. He would have to signal to them to move his belongings onto this vessel. At the ship they were met with whom Colin assumed to be the captain of the large ship. Rickard Mayce, from what the Eunuch had called him, was a lean man with a nearly-stubbled beard and bloodshot eyes. He looked as though he needed rest with the black under his eyes and he also looked he could do everlastingly better with the way he looked. He had a ragged ear and a scar along his jaw that made him seem... Undesirable or maybe just gruff. When addressed he made it clear that he was not a Lord nor a knight. He was simply Rickard Mayce of the Shadow Swan and wanted nothing but gold. Colin made a face when referred to as a "mummers farce". Following his insult Rickard informed them that they had room for a horse and a squire and while on board they would be expected to do work.

Getting aloft a ship had already been an undesirable, but inevitable ordeal, but now he was absolutely against the idea of getting on this ship at all! Manual labor was not unfamiliar to him (though it had become somewhat of a forgotten friend) but their arrangements along with the attitude of this "Rickard Mayce of the Shadow Swan" was an outrage! In all sense of the phrase, this man had no sense of respect and possibly a lack in education. Even the poorest mother's child had an idea of how to address a knight, let alone another person, especially those who are clearly above them. His rudeness was either because no one had taught him manners or because he chose to ignore them. Either way it was a shining sign of ignorance. Colin's assumptions of the man had been undoubtedly correct. Undesirable. A harsh man, he could bear, but this--this--no, not at all.

There was no requirement for Colin to board this ship. He had his own, he could take his own and simply just follow behind. It would make for more room, something of which Rickard's ship seemingly didn't have despite what he'd said. The "room for a horse and squire" must have been in the same room as with the crew members. If it were anything else, there was no reason that the ship's men could not fit themselves into the apparent extra space and make available open rooms. However, it was not the rooms nor the work that made Colin angriest, but simply Rickard himself.

"Eunuch," Colin addressed, "is it possible that I may take my own ship? My crew seems ready to depart with me presently and it'd only waste time to have my horse and my things moved here if that weren't necessary. That too, bringing my own vessel would provide more room if this ship were to, in some way, run out of it. Unless this would somehow hinder our journey," Colin turned his attention to Rickard, "it would be acceptable for myself and my crew to sail behind, yes?"
  #49    
Old September 1st, 2012, 08:59 PM
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Alys and Ava, Dalenham

With the go ahead from Varian to explore Dalenham, Victoria quickly got up from her seat, heading towards the door. If they were going to leave the city at the crack of dawn, then Victoria would need her rest and there would be no time like the present to go stock up. As she reached for the door handle, Victoria heard Avangeline call out her name.

"Hey! Alys!" Avangeline grabbed Victoria's arm and gave it a light tug. "We just got a whole bunch of silver. Did you want go shopping?" Her smile was bright, as if she was a little girl who had been given a bunch of sweets. Avangeline had a very large and very soft spot for spending money when she had enough.

Caught unaware of this gesture of friendship, Victoria stuttered a bit, not really knowing what to say or what she wanted to say. "Uh, yeah, sure, I would be happy to. Do you need anything urgent? Because I need to stock up on arrows..." she flicked her head backwards in an awkward gesture at the quiver strapped to her back.

"Well..." Avangeline bit her bottom lip and looked up, recalling on what she wanted earlier. "A new shoulder plate, a new set of gloves and boots. And I really need my swords sharpened, though I can probably do that myself. And I did see this really, really nice bow and arrow set at the blacksmith the week before last, made from Miracyian wood. Y'know. Just the essentials!"

"Alright then!" Victoria was hit by a gust of wind as she opened the door into the chill night air of Dalenham. Up abouve them stars shone in the sky while the twin moons followed each other across the sky. Ever since she was a little girl, Victoria had found the moons and stars fascinating, hoping that one day they could live on the worlds in the sky.

It didn't take them long before the found the blacksmiths that Avangeline had been talking about; displaying a wide variety of steel, iron and other metal armour, swords and even the Myrician wood bow Avangeline had picked up on the other day.

"You looked so graceful with that sword," Victoria said while looking through a pile of arrow heads and arrows made by the local fletcher, "what entices you towards the bow?"

"A Whetstone, please!" Avangeline said to the man behind the counter, who happily obliged. They were always a far cheaper option and she knew a place in Dalenham which would let her use a stone grinder in one of the guilds. Whetstones were always good on the go. "And could you please look at my shoulder plate?" She handed over the dented plate. It wasn't because it had been hit multiple times, but because she favoured to roll on her right than her left. The blacksmith smiled and nodded, walking over to his bench to inspect the metal.

"I was always taught to fight with swords, yes," Avangeline pulled out one of her swords and admired the metal. It was beautiful. If one was ever to steal it, she would have their head, "but my mother is an Elf, from Miracyia. I thought I should stay to my heritage, don't you think?"

"I guess..." Victoria trailed away, ever since Victoria had left Rowanion, she had experimented with different aliases, being from different places, not once had she used her true heritage as a guise; not even close. Victoria handed the Fletcher sveral copper pieces as she topped up her quiver with Mindirion Iron arrows; they weren't the best, but neither were they the worse, and tipped with poisons, they would be quite deadly.

"So why did you leave Miracyia then? I heard it's meant to be a beautiful place where the trees sing and the animals bear no grudges."

"May I see your gloves and matching boots, please?" Avangeline took her armour back from the blacksmith. She handed over the silver piece she had, who gave her enough change for her to smile back at him. "I didn't come from Miracyia. I've actually never seen it before, only heard stories. I'll go there one day, when I think I can call myself Elf." She turned to Victoria and patted her on the shoulder. "In the meantime, Alys, I'll split heads and cut fingers off!"

"Not before I skewer them!" Victoria challenged the tall elf, beaming at the start of a friendship that had begun to develop between them. Ever since leaving Rowanion, she had avoided befriending people to avoid complications. Seeing as they had formed a band of mercenaries, Victoria would probably need to start making friends with some of them members. "And what do you mean, 'when you consider yourself an elf'? Your part elf, but technically doesn't that make you elven?"

The blacksmith had brought out a few sets of matching gloves and boots. After a quick inspection, Avangeline shook her head, pushing the sets back to the blacksmith with a sly smile.

"How much are these worth each?"

"About a silver piece. A silver and a half for the one on the end," the blacksmith pointed to the black pair of leather boots at the end.

"Well, I am willing to pay at least three, maybe four silver for a decent pair of boots," the blacksmith's eyes grew wide as Avangeline added the 'maybe four'. "Would you be able to bring the better ones out, please?"

"Yes, yes, of course!" he disappeared behind the back. Avangeline turned back to Victoria.

"Well, yes but not really. I only know so much from what my mother told me. When I can fluently speak their language, walk as they walk, talk as they talk, then I will go to my homeland. Until then..." the blacksmith returned with boots, obviously far better made than the previous pairs he had pulled out.

"This one?" Avangeline pointed to a durable, leather pair, the armour lined with beautiful ornamental designs and it was obvious the metal was strong.

"Three and a half silver."

"Throw in two Whetstones and you have a deal!"

The blacksmith obliged, putting two Whetstones on the table as Avangeline passed over her three silver. Nice. New boots. "Thanks!"

While Avangeline brought her boots, Victoria journeyed down two stalls to a man selling alchemaic potions, poisons and draughts. Displayed on his stall were various types of these 'fantsy' waters that were said to inprove health, stamina, sexual porwess, the list went on. But Victoria didn't have time for these homemade concotions. Instead, she admired his range of plants, herbs and other natural gifts used to concoct certain potions.

"You wouldn't happen to have any Vanaheim frost-berry juice, would you?" Victoria asked, hoping that on the slightest chance he would have some.

"No can do young lady," the Dalenham merchant replied, "need to keep that stuff cooled, it's no good down here in this here arid land.

"Well, what about Rowanion Sand Crab Acid?" Victoria was starting to get annoyed, for a merchant in one of the biggest merchant cities, he had very little wares, "or Rastran Scorpion Venom?"

"Can't do either young lady, those Rastrans keep to themselves, barely venture out of their hell hole desert. And those goddamned Rowanions charge bucket loads for the Crab Acid, filthy fish mongers..."

Victoria felt rage full up inside her, not only did this man lack in his wares, but he also insulted her home town. While she gave up the identity of Victoria of the Golden Islands to Realusian Archer Alys, it was still where she came from.

"You must have some Elysian wildflower pollen?"

"That I do miss, but it will be one silver per bottle."

"You dirty, cheating scumbag!" Victoria roared at the merchant, now he was trying to rip her off, who was this guy? Victoria let her hand slip to her belt where the hunting blade sat, ready to slice the man's throat open.

"Hey! Hey Alys!" almost immediately, Avangeline was by Victoria's side, her hand on Victoria's hand, keeping the blade still by her side. She could feel her companion tug up, trying to pull the knife up but Avangeline kept her hand firm. From what she could tell at the tavern, Victoria was not as skilled at close combat as Avangeline was. She feared only a little what Victoria would do at a distance, though. "Calm yourself. He's a merchant, not a monster. Excuse me," Avangeline whipped her around and pushed her away from the street, back to a tavern window.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, just this dirty scumbag trying to rip me off," although there was more to it than just that, Victoria refused to tell Avangeline why she was so angry at the man for his comment.

"Do you have much shopping to do?"

"It's okay, I can get that bow later. You don't get mad, okay?" Avangeline let go of her companion and patted her on the shoulder, pretending to pull something out of her ear like the street magicians did. Instead of a piece of copper or an egg, Anageline pulled the bottle of pollen up and placed it in Victoria's hand. "You get even!"

Victoria gazed at the bottle in Ava's hand, mouth agape in surprise. "H-how did you nab that?" she stammered, as her surprise slowly turned into laughter. It was a nice surprise, and Victoria was beginning to enjoy having Avangeline around.

"I've been in a few thieves' guilds. They teach you stuff. Slight of hand, distracting your opponent, y'know. Let's go before he notices," Avangeline ushered Victoria away, leading her down the street and back into the heart of Dalenham. It was starting to get dark and she knew that they both were in store for a big day ahead. "Did you want to check in somewhere? Get a bite to eat before we sleep for the night?"

"Sounds good to me," Victoria glanced around at the stores that lined the streets of Dalenham. "The Sprig and Fern, sounds like a good place, how about there?" Victoria pointed to the rather nice looking tavern that had a variety of plants lining the windows.

"Better than the Broken Keg," Avangeline gave a laugh. "C'mon," she added and pulled Victoria inside.

A blazing fire lit up the warm interior of the tavern as a tall, elven maiden stood at the bar, serving a variety of Ciders from Myracia and Falke to customers who sat and talked quietly. This bar was a vast contrast to the brawling tavern they had been in before, and Victoria admired the relaxed nature the bar had.

Pulling up a stool at the bar, she gestured to the barmaiden, one Spicy Apple Cider please, and for you Ava? I'll pay first round." She asked, placing a silver coin on the bar.

"Just mead, please," Avangeline said, nodding and smiling at Victoria's kind gesture. "Local, if you have it." She enjoyed the view of the tavern, she had been here once before. It was nice. Quaint. And treated people well, from her one time experience.

Victoria took a sip of the nectar, feeling the cool cider drip down her throat, the spicy apple aftertaste staying around a while after the sip. "So, what do you think of the others?"

"The others?" Avangeline tapped her chin for a second, taking a sip when the barmaiden gave her the mead. "They're alright. Way friendlier than some other companions I've had. But maybe more drunk." She gave a laugh, Cass the first one coming to mind.

"Yeah, I guess," Victoria looked to the side, making sure no one around was close enough to hear, "I kinda like that new guy, the one who came at the end with the massive Poleaxe? Although, I think he's overcompensating for something...." Victoria blushed, she always had a thing about guys who were fighters, "...but the others are alright."

"Subtle," Avangeline winked. "Real subtle."

Victoria burried herself in her drink, blushing and smirking at the same time. After she had finished the mug of cider, she let out a big yawn, "Should we head off to bed soon? Need to be up at dawn and I'm looking forward to a bed!"

"Sure!" Avangeline quickly finished her own drink but didn't look tired at all. "Big day ahead of us tomorrow. I wonder who that guy was? Maybe he was a king!"

Victoria rapidly fell asleep as soon as her head hit the soft, pillow. It had been weeks since she had last slept in a bed and as she coiled herself in the covers she slowly dreamt of the days in which she always had a bed to return to.

It wasn't long until she heard the banging from the door as Avangeline hurried her to wake up. Remembering the day they had ahead, she bolted from her bed, quickly putting on her gear before opening the door ready to go, quiver slung over her shoulders and bow in hand.

"Let's go, shall we?"

"Sounds like a fabulous plan!" Avangeline stood, beaming as usual. They exchanged light conversation as they made their way to the gates at the front of town, Varian and a very hung over Cass waiting for them.

Last edited by Skymin; September 1st, 2012 at 10:49 PM. Reason: MADDY'S EDITING SO ITS NICE
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