For the King (fantasy rp)

Held simply couldn't close his eyes of excitement. He had tried to get some sleep, but the thought of the advent adventure as well as the reward had kept him off it. He was lying in bed, thinking about what weapons he would choose when they would be taken to the royal armoury... a sword, no doubt... and a good bow! Yes, a longbow, that's what he needed... or a crossbow?

Then his thoughts were interrupted by knocking on his door.
A maid came in. "Mylord, I've been sent to take you to the Great Hall."
"Ah, are we finally going to get our weapons, then, are we?"
"Ehm... I... I wouldn't know, mylord..."
"Ah... well, alright, lead me the way then!"
"Yes, mylord" answered the maid quickly, happy that he had asked something in which she could oblige.

 

Leaving the room, Shao'Tio thought back upon his brief visit. He still did not fully understood why the king refused to be healed. Maybe it had something to do with him being too prideful. Leaving these thoughts behind, Shao'Tio went to each room and woke up the few guests who were still sleeping. Walking to the great hall, he noticed one of the guests was already there. He also saw that the arrow he shot last night was still stuck in the door. I must retrieve it, he thought. I need all the arrows I can get. Silently he approached the door.

As he tried to pull it out, he felt something move beneath him. Deep beneath the earth, he could sense that trouble was brewing. Grabbing the arrow with both hands, he attempted once again to pull the arrow out of the door. It was useless, for the arrow did not even move an inch. Whether by magic or some sorcery, it was there to stay.

As he looked closer at the silver coated arrow that was now part of the door, he noticed that it was vibrating. When will the rest of the guests arrive, he thought. I do not like these bad omens at all. Thinking this, a dark figure cloaked in mist and fog suddenly appeared before him.

"Hope fails, Shao'Tio and you know this. This quest will fail. Trust me, I would know. It is I who was responsible for killing almost five thousand men that glorious day, and it is I who drove Vel-Banard mad. Your king sits ill these days--plagued by doubt, and plagued by me!"

In a flash the mist went away. Shao'Tio fell flat on the ground. All the strength went from him; he found it impossible to even stand up. "He is lying, for he knows there is still some hope. I will never give up. I will see the kingdom of Galbadan restored again!"

With all the strength he had, he lifted himself off the ground. Swiftly, he strided towards one of the chairs around the table and sat down.

 

As Haskeen ate the eggs and sipped the whiskey he had been brought, overcome with a feeling unlike any other, a feeling a man gets when he gets exactly what he desires. Not some egg and booze, no that it wasn't nice, it was all very superficial, what Hakseen had was power, the fear of the page as he stood over the mercenary while he ate, the ability to cause him to flinch with a single motion, a feeling he could get used to. Riding off that and a good nights sleep, refreshing especially when considering he had a clean face and a warm bed, and this glorious emotion, he had no regrets about this quest, if anything he was excited.

I haven't enjoyed a sleep that good in ages! An omen perhaps? I know not, astrology is for the mad fools like that Shao'Ti or whatever they call him, funny indeed that the insane can reach such heights when the weak buy into their ruses.

A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts. Haskeen swiftly jerked his fist to the door, causing the page to jump and rush over to it. That alone brought a smile to his face. Behind him he could predict the conversation.

A surprised maid jumping at the sight of a fellow servant. 'What of his lordship Haskeen?' she would ask, and the peasant boy would reply, 'Why he had been up for nearly an hour now, enjoying a light breakfast and a drink, what brings you here?' The maid, relieved about not having to wake the rather frightening desert man, would say in a light tone, 'Well the king requests his presence in the great hall, be a dear and tell him'. The prospect of disturbing the mercenary will send a deep pitted feeling of dread in the boys stomach, so studdering like an idiot he would say, 'Of c-c-course, I'll t-t-t-t-tell him now' and close the door. Behind him the sound of wood slamming into wood sounded. Haskeen counted mentally, 3 2 1 and . . .

"M-my lord, the king requests you go to the great hall immediately." A single bead of sweat ran down his forehead, and though it hit him in the eye, he did not wipe it away.

The desert man stood up and said, "Yes, I suppose it is time, is it not? Leave now boy and return to clean the room once I have left." The boy nodded and almost ran out of the room as Haskeen began to change into daily garments, but rather than throwing on his mail and grabbing his spear and sword, he left them knowing the king would surely have finer things for him to choose from, things for men with power.

* * * * * *​

Haskeen entered the hall, one of the first to reach it, only 2 other individuals in the sleepy morning, sitting at the tables. Taking his own seat beside the small fellow, the thief, he clasped his hands together and leaned forward, yawning and enjoying the taste of whiskey still strong in his mouth, waiting patiently for the other guests to arrive so they could get "the show on the road" as northerners often said.

 

Ketka tugged on her shoulder rig making sure it was secured before hefting the axe and fastening it to her hip. It was easy to tell battle scar had been made for her father. The grip though made for elegant elf hands was larger then that of her sword, made for a mans hand. Made for her father. For her size it seemed most amusing that she lugged such a weight with her. It was more entertaining that she did it with what seemed to be little effort. The page besides her held a cloth in his hands she turned to him and smiled. How well he had shone her weapons. A few notes f a tune and Spere joined her side. She gave his coat a brush and he followed her out the door. The page moved ahead of her guiding her back to the hall. Now that she was groomed She had gotten a little of her royal pride back. Ketka did not have a skulking walk anymore. She strode with her head held up, the nape of her neck taunt with the upwards tilt of her head. The doors were open welcoming the guests back to it’s table. Ketka gave the three in the room a quick look over. They seemed better, a little rest had done them wonders. Though the Shao man looked smothered in concern.

She stood by the table, Spere sat on her feet, a canine sign of ownership. She managed a small smile, looking forwards to the events to come.

 

Drake awoke before the knock on the door. Awoken by the approaching footsteps. “Come in boy.” He said knowing who it was. The boy poked his head in, a slight smile on it, unsure if Drake’s was as friendly in the morning as he was after a night of drinking. “Come on boy you know I don’t bite.” Drake said teasingly, which reassured the boy who stepped in.

“Sorry I didn’t get you up earlier but the king sent for you early, he wants you all in the great hall again Drake.” Drake smirked, the king was finally getting on to business. Drake nodded and then waved that he could leave as Drake pulled on my clothes, chest plate and finally placing my helm over my head. Drake patted it fondly it didn’t cover my face but it covered enough of my head to have saved me from injury many times.

“Time to get to work.” Drake said to himself and then stood and left for the hall. He entered the hall sword thrown lazily over his shoulder, but didn’t take a seat, he was excited to see what objects the king had to offer.

 

It was early morning, hours before the sunrise when Leon laid shirtless and sprawled across the king-sized bed of his master bedroom. He was half asleep, due partially to the numerous scars along his body which gave off a burning sensation from time-to-time, a reminder of his past.

He looked over next to him to gaze at the naked body of the sleeping maiden who had stumbled over him in the dinning hall. After Leon had retired into his room, the maiden had slipped in during the night, having been seemingly turned on by Leon's approach towards her. Her hair was a beautiful raven black, woven like silk along her russet-colored skin. Leon hadn't noticed in the hall that she had two different colored eyes. Her left eye was like a chocolate brown while her right was an emerald green, hardly noticable when not paying attention. Leon took an interest in her in the moment, though he knew nothing about her. Maybe when the journey was done he would finally settle down.

His scars began to burn a bit more and he turned to look out the window when he noticed something move in the darkness of the moonlight...

 

Senora was lost in her thoughts as she made her way towards the dining hall that morning. She chose her own chain mail armor above the newer armor that had been offered her. She felt her set of chainmail, with the insignia of Kaelin’Dar on the chest would keep her protected more than any other set could-no matter how finely crafted. Had she more time, she could have had the newer set fitted with her religious insignia, but time was not a luxury she had this time around.

As always, she wore her cloak like a shroud of protection. She would stay concealed as long as possible. She met Shao’Tio’s eyes briefly as she walked into the room. He gave her a nod of acknowledgement and when he raised his eyes again to meet hers, she knew the king had declined her offer of healing aid. Her abilities were not a fountain of youth, she could not turn back time or erase the natural consequences of age, but she could have helped give him strength while he awaited their return.

Whatever the king’s reasons, they were his own and she would respect them. She looked around the table trying to read the faces of her new companions. They would leave the hall allies, she hoped along the journey she would not find an enemy among them. … After all, it wouldn’t be the first time.

 

Soundlessly. It was the way he had been taught. It was dark, but those such as himself had learned to revel in the darkness, to embrace the cold shadows of the dark places of the world. It was the way he had been taught.

He had no name. Those such as himself were not allotted names of their own. He was simply a Shadow. Lowly and insignificant. It was for the glory of the Darkness that he acted. For the glory of the High Priest. Moonbeams glanced off his short knife as he slipped into the slightly open window. The sun would be up soon. That cursed ball would ruin him. His pray lay in bed with a woman. They would both feel the sting of his blade this night...yes they would. A kingdom couldn't be saved if its heroes were dead. Fools...they knew nothing of what they had agreed to do.

Soundlessly, he slipped down onto the ground. It was then that he realized the man in the bed had noticed him.

 

Rune was a morning creature, but no so much of a bed fan. He more or less cleaned himself before throwing his fur on and walking to the great hall, where they were supposed to meet.

Once there, he opened his mouth to say a few words of 'good morning', but suddenly decided against it and closed his mouth, silently sitting down. A quick whiff at the food, and Rune found himself gobbling some of the food being offered, not to mention the water. Wine didn't agree with his stomach.

 

Nuddie felt a hand gently rouse her from her slumber. Her eyes fluttered open as the sunlight shone in. Her wings gently stretched themselves out, going clear across a big portion of the room. She quickly brought them to rest on her back as she jumped from the bed. She grabbed her satchel, as she looked outside the window. It was a pretty good view and she wasn’t going to stop the chance for a sketch. In quick strokes she did a basic outline of what she saw. The rising sun, the castle. She then began to add the details, using light strokes, and blending them to the heavier ones. She slid the sketch into her satchel. She stretched out her arms, and quickly slid her satchel over her shoulders.

She walked from her room and headed towards the great hall. For most of the time she’d spent there, she hadn’t talked much. She didn’t feel she belonged. She probably didn’t, and she knew she would probably be one of the few that wouldn’t make it back. She wasn’t very strong. That was for sure, all she had was her quickness and her flight. She wasn’t sure how even that would help her. She entered the great hall.

 

Leon had noticed the figure in the shadows but kept silent as his unwanted guest krept closer towards the bedside where he lay. He pretended he was asleep until the shadowy character drew within only a few inches from him and an eye opened suddenly, alerting the bandit that his presence has been known.

Without hesitating Leon lifted a leg to kick the hand containing what appeared to be a knife. It was the only movement he made, though in the shadows underneath the bed an object metalic in structure lashed out at the assassin's feet and coiled around them like a snake and pulled. The shadowy figure was instantly tripped as he was dragged underneath the bed, a quiet sound of cracking bones and a muffled scream following him into the shadows.

*** ***

The grand doors to the dinning hall suddenly and abruptively flew open as Leon stepped through carrying something large and black like a sack over his left shoulder.

He had a frown on his face, dark bags were under his eyes and his hair, though looking greasy like before, was a bit messier. Leon didn't get much sleep because of this intruder and to demonstrate his frustration, as he stopped in from of the large table he through the large sack over the table, landing on an assortment of fancy foods and sprawling a man in black from what were Leon's bedsheets.

Leon patted himself down until he pulled out the pair of wired glasses he wore last night and put them on and looked around the dinning room.

"....crappy room service...."

 

Rae jumped up from his spot at the table as the lifeless form of a man in black came crashing down onto the table with a thunderous noise. It looked as though the man had been crushed to death. What was it, a thief. Maybe worse...an assassin.

"....crappy room service...." was all the man said before pulling out his glasses and places them on his face.

"What is the meaning of all this?!" demanded Rae'Non whose only answer came in the form of raucous laughter from a new entry into the grand chamber. All eyes in the room immediately went to the owner of the laugh; the once mighty High Lord Vel-Banard. Rae nodded his head respectfully. "Lord Vel-Banard...You are well this morning?"

"Spare me the formalities Rae'Non, I shall never be well again," he said as he ran a hand through his flowing golden hair. "Oh my...what do we have here?" he pondered aloud as he stepped towards the body on the table. "My my my...the cooks really let themselves go this time!" He burst into the same raucous, half mad laughter much to the unease of all in the room.

"This man tried to kill me last night," said Arc.

"Well twists and turns abound! Isn't this exciting yet...hero?" asked Vel-Banard as he got uncomfortable close to Arc and breathed a foul smelling breath right into his face.

"Lord Vel-Banard please..." began Rae as he moved toward the drunken and crazed Lord, but was swiftly cut off by a shout from Vel-Banard.

"BACK! Back I say! I will not be touched by the hand that will doom us all, unknowing though it may be! I am quite capable of excusing myself. Haha...Fair journey heroes. May whatever Gods you pray to be with you, you'll need them later."

With another raucous laugh, Vel-Banard exited the chamber and all eyes came to Rae'Non. "I'm sorry my friends...Im sure you all have heard of Vel-Banard's run in with the Darkness. He was one of only five men to survive out of five thousand. He has since become a bit incoherent."

"Bit of and understatement," said Arc under his breath. "When will we be leaving?"

"Very shortly...You may go ahead and choose from whatever weapons and armor you like. All have been laid out on the far wall."

Indeed on the far wall were an assortment of some of the finest weapons and armours of all types ever assembled in one place. Dragonscale, mithril, fancy gold-plate, all of it was there. From halberds to daggers, crossbows to longbows. It was quite a site really.

 

Rune looked at the weapons with a bit of skepticism. He knew he wouldn't be needed any of those, and even if he did, he probably wouldn't be able to use them. He had the only weapon he needed right there, hanging from his hips.

It was a small sickle with a long chain attached at the end. It was trick a farmer had taught him once, his village was often ransacked by thieves, so the men and women learned how to turn simple farming tools into weapons. The advantage was that the thieves didn't expect it, and they could defend themselves at any moment.

It also came with the advantage that he could tie it around his neck like a collar in his wolf form.

He did consider taking some sort of armor to protect himself in this weaker form, but if he transformed what would be the use? Best be practical in this case. He stayed seated and watched as the others went to fetch whatever weapon they fancied.

 

"Ah the weapons, of fine measure and value I'm sure. Nothing says more about a king than his, security." said Haskeen rising immediately, a shallow smile hidden under his face covering and a twinkle of greed in his eyes.

What have we here, oh king? Anything that I might be using?

He looked over each piece of equipment with a harsh scrutiny. Only a handful of it was anything more than ceremonial lord-****. Fine swords for knightings, gold plate for speeches and marches and such, but of the few things that were real, honest steel Haskeen quickly decided what he would take. He reached up to a spear, set aside from the rest on the far left of the wall. It was 7 feet, short but effective enough for one as skilled as him. It was light, old wood, but strong, and the tip was crafted from a massive scorpion pincer, no doubt with a little venom left. "This shall be quite accommodating, foreign craftsmanship seldom yields a masterpiece such as this, one such as the king must have a good eye and taste to pick a fine pike such as this from the infinite works of the ameture." he said to no one in particular as he continued looking.

Haskeen needed three things from the king,a spear, a set of mail and a sword, he had a spear and his next target was a suitable bit of armor. All the armor up there was heavy and impractical, for horseback and close combat, but one thing any mercenary of the south learned quick was to not let the opponent get too close. Maneuverability and protection from projectiles was what Haskeen was concerned about, and few sets of armor on the wall offered that, except the one. A light set of mithril, of dwarven craft obviously, hung from the wall, seeming to hide amongst the big gaudy suits of golden plate that stuck out around it, but the southerner would not be denied. He reached up for it and took it off, trying it on. It wasn't too different from his old set, aside from it being different material and having discolored chains, forming some sort of dwarvish word. It fit perfectly, tight, but not constraining. Haskeen left it on, pulling his tabard over it. He even spyed a matching pair of knee and elbow guards on a tiny stretch of wall below it, he never wore such things in the desert, but it was not the desert he would be facing, it was the darkness.

All he needed now was a proper sword. Haskeen never left without one at his side, though he never, in his entire career as a soldier, had to use it, it was a precaution and nothing more. Those who were not prepared for the worse often were forced to face it, so the mercenary always kept one, though swordplay was not the fine point of his skills, or any of the southern lords. Swords were a thing for the north, duels and fencing, in the south things were different. Men did not solve their differences in ceremonial fights with rules and regulations, they gathered a few friends and struck when they were least expected, tossing sand, kicking low and aiming for the face. Fighting dirty was the only way to fight. Haskeen found a sword, he had plenty to chose from. He decided on a little blade, two feet long and fairly broad to boot. It was rather plain when compared to the finery that surrounded it, but it was an honest weapon, strong, it cut through air easily, and something about it made the southerner feel secure with it at his side. It wasn't very unique, the only note worthy thing about it was its hilt, a red jewel embedded into it. Everything else was the same old story, plain leather case, plain, though well shined steel.

Haskeen was ready as far as equipment went, for he had his weapons and armor, and everything else he needed was in his pack, large but light. It was a wooden frame, covered in white cloth, looking massive as it hung off his back. Within was every possession the mercenary had in the world. A tent, clothing, swag. He could hardly sit with such a large thing on his person, so he stood, all but his eyes and the tips of his fingers, tightly wrapped around his new spear, hidden to the world as he waited for the king to see them off.

 

Chapter 2--Aranach Wood

It was a few hours before midday when the king of Galbadan at last made his final appearance before the assembled heroes in the Great Hall. All stood side by side as they awaited their royal sending off. The king couldn't help but smile a little, his golden eyes shining, as he thought of what an unlikely group had come to him.

“So the time has come at last, brave heroes. Within the hour you shall be on your way. There are not words that can express my gratitude, so I will not try to find them. Know that when you ride, all the hopes of the people of Galbadan ride with you. I wish you all a safe journey. Shao...Rae...I expect to see you both on the return journey...and all of you. Go with the Gods.”

So at last the brave ten set out on their journey. Yet, it was not so much of a glorious sending off as the stories would have made it seem. In truth, the heroes heart's were hardened. The eyes of the week and the hungry gathered along the edges of the main road and peered from loose boards on shut up windows at the group. For all that the quest meant for the people of Galbadan, they were silent. There was no cheering or merry making.

For a week straight the heroes rode with Rae'Non and Shao'Tio at the head of the two columns. While they road, they witnessed what had become of the once prosperous Galbadan countryside. At every turn, starving peasents stared up at them through empty eyes, most to weak even to beg. No smiles from children found them, only gaunt and dirty faces. They were truly a broken people.

When the week came to an end, the heroes found themselves on the borders of the vast Aranach Wood. A treacherous place home to many of the ancient monsters of legend. Creeping shadows moved about as if alive. In those shadows, something darker lurked.

Rae'Non and Shao'Tio reigned their horses to a stop and signaled their respective columns to do the same. The darkness of the Aranach Wood loomed up before them. Rae knew it to be a cursed place, but it was the only way to their destination.

“Hold,” he said. “We will stop here for a moment's rest. We might not have another once we cross the threshold into the Wood. Dark things are in there.”

 

Drake watched the woods cautiusly and put his free hand on the handle of the fine dagger he had gotten from the king. He had taken it more out of politness than need. He had his sword, his chest plate, and his helm, what more could he use. But watching the woods that seemed to shift and move as if watching and judging him he was glade that he had a spare weapon even one as punny as the dagger.

"So my desert freind what do you make of these woods?" He asked wanting to know if the cold man felt fear. He didn't blame the man for his coldness it was part of his culture, forced politness and all that.

 

Nateia slid off her horse, gently gliding to the ground with the help of her wings. She gently put her hand on the beasts face, her fingers gently gliding down, until she reached his nuzzle. His deep brown eyes brought a smile to her face. His fur, a dark brown reminded her of her own child’s hair. She let out a sigh, kissing the animal, and sitting down next to it.

The horse lowered his head, his lips going to her hair. She gave out a laugh, gently pushing his mouth away. She pulled out her tablet of paper, and lifted her roughly made lead pencil. She looked around, not really sure what she wanted to draw. She had all ready sketched the horse, and a few settings when there was time, but she wasn’t sure she was in the mood. What lay ahead scared her more then she would say. Not that she had said much through their trip, her shyness seemed to take over.

She touched the belt on her side, her hand sliding to the new sword she had gotten from the wall. It was much prettier then the one she had before. A golden sword, jewels crested it’s hilt. Her hands ran around the smooth metal. She smiled, placing it back. She let the bow on her shoulder fall to her side next to her satchel. She gave out a sigh.

She began to look around at the other hero’s, her eyes trying not to meet them. She didn’t want to offend them. Her eyes stopped on a tall man with black hair. His eyes were a stunning blue. She awed, liking his look. She took her pencil and paper, and gently glided over, her wings making her footsteps nearly soundless. She stopped next to him, biting her lip.

“Nice eyes.” She said with a smile. She quickly blushed, knowing it sounded as stupid as it felt. “The names Nateia.”

 

Drake had been waiting for an awnser when he had glanced over at the angel. Their eyes locked for a moment. Her eyes seemed to shift slightly from color to color, as if one beutiful color was not enough for her. He swore he had even caught a glimps of his mothers eyes in their, if only for just a moment. The same eyes he saw on his face everyday, her eyes, they looked better on the angel. He turned away slowly as if nothing had happened and had been stuck with her face in his mind when she spoke.

“Nice eyes.” She said with a smile. She quickly blushed, which only made her more beautiful. “The names Nateia.” Again he found her eyes hypnotizing so he dicided to tell her.

"With eyes as beautiful and compelling as your's i'm supprised you can ever put the mirror down." He said with a freindly smile. He unconciusly put his left hand on her shoulder a greating in his village, only realizing it to late that he should have offered her a hand. Her eyes must have thrown him off. "The names Drake, though i'm more often known as the Black Dragon." He quickly removed his hand, and twisted his big sword makeing it dig into the ground as he allways did when nurvous, and she made him feel like a kid again, those eyes, his mothers eyes in the head of another woman. Maybe their was some truth to the old saying that a man tries to find a woman like his mom.

 

The horse neighed and Rune understood the warning. The horse had been weary of him, smelling and sensing the fact that he was not human, and a predator for that matter. Rune had assured him the best he could that he would not eat him if he let him ride and so far he had behaved.

Rune approached the edge of the forest and inhaled, letting the smell of the forest fill his lungs. It smelt of darkness.

 

Leon dismounted from his horse, a beautiful black stallion, and looked about his dark surroundings. Shadows loomed in the night sky as the moon revealed itself through the light clouds.

He wasn't used to traveling on horseback. In fact, this was the first time he's ever seen and ridden one. He was skeptical about riding the great mare but he was able to force those thoughts aside about an hour after they departed.
He didn't bother unloading the only bag he had. Leon didn't carry much, though he grabbed his worn brown cloak he'd slung within the straps during the trip and threw it over himself, seeing as the night was cold.

He walked past a few of the others who had settled down and came to an oak tree without many leaves but beautiful with age and swiftly climbed into it, resting against the lowest branch which was big enough for probably two people to sit on. Leon reached into his cloak and removed a flask from his belt. He took a swig and stared into the night sky.

 

Nuddie blushed again, but quickly returned with a smile. The first hero she had decided to talk to, and he was a charmer. She was glad she had chosen him, she needed someone friendly to talk to after all.

“It’s wonderful to meet you Drake, thank you for the kind words.” Her hands moved, as she grabbed the lead pencil, and began sketching his eyes.

“Do you have any family you’ve left behind?” she asked, as she put the pencil down. She pulled the sketch of her daughter and husband from the tablet of paper.

“That’s my daughter… and that was my husband.” She muttered, choking out the last word.

 

The Forms--Rae

While the other heroes went about their business cooking up some food, taking quick naps, or talking amongst themselves, Rae'Non took the opportunity to practice his craft. It was what he did when he was feeling lonely. The sword he carried was the one connection to his dead people he had left.

Quietly, he slipped away from the group to a small rise that he thought to be perfect for running through the forms. In a graceful movement, he pulled his sword from the scabbard at his side. Any who were watching would have been stunned at the difference between the rather plain scabbard and the blade it held.

The weapon was called Kaelos, though it seemed too beautiful to be called a weapon at all. The blade was a little more than four feet in length with a wide groove for a fuller. From the tip of the blade to the cross guard ran a series of runic engravings. It was the secret language of the Dragon People, a language that died with its people. The cross guard was fashioned into the likeness of a golden dragon's spread wings and looked as though they were stout enough to trap an opponents blade. The wings converged on an area that appeared to be a dragon's head, with the mouth opening up to the rain guard of the blade. The grip was just large enough for one hand and seemed to fit Rae perfectly. Lastly, there was the pommel stone. It was a magnificent crimson jewel that looked as though it might have been filled with blood. The thing came to a neat point, perfectly suitable for breaking helmets and bashing skulls.

After taking a moment to quiet his mind, Rae began to flow through the forms he had been taught. It seemed to be a dance. True definition of what poetry in motion must have been. Leaf in the Wind became Lilly on the Water became Flowing River. It was all one motion. There was no pause between the forms. Rays of the Sun became Shooting Star became Fading Moonlight. The blade seemed to reflect light in strange ways, leaving odd silvery trails in the air that it cut. Then it was over. Rae sheathed the weapon and closed his eyes, bowing his head in respect to something unseen by any save for him.

 

Drake knew a widow when he spoke to one, and by the sound of it, she was new to the job. Drake had been a mercenary for a long time and knew when a woman needed comforting. It was a job that many mercenaries skipped out on leaving the family left to wonder at the fate of their beloved. Drake had always delivered the news personaly.

This time when he put his hand on her shoulder it was in a different way. A soft grip, firm enough to let the person know that you could lend them support should they fall but gentle enough to not seem prosessive. "My condolences Nateia." He said and then added. "You have a beautiful daugter still, a reminder of happy memmories i've no doubt."

"I have a daughter myself, and a son. Twins, fiesty little buggers." He said attempting to lighten the situation. "I swear the speed they're growing they'll make me look small," He said and then gave a quick laugh. "And poor Gabrial, she's nearly shorter than them already. She's a small but sturdy woman herself. Never married though."

 

Leon looked down at the group of heroes, his "companions", and took another swig at his flask. He wasn't sure whether he should converse with one of them or not and gain a little insight on who they were.

Leon grunted after having thought about it for a second and took another swig at his flask.

Not that he didn't like talking, he actually conversed with people frequently. He was just too ticked off to care on this job. It was always like this, always the same situation with the same people employing him. The only difference this time around was the the large company.

He smirked as if he though something was funny. At least he had help this time. The reward was the same but the effort might not be as much as he planned to put out.

He looked over at Shao'Tio. He was quietly, probably conversing about the next move. Leon retured his flask back to his belt loop and studied the him silently. He then realized Rae'non was not present. Leon looked around in the oak tree and spotted him just about 30 feet off into the forest. At first it appeared as if he were dancing, but it took a second to realize that he was actually moving through sword stances.

Intrigued, Leon jumped down from the tree and ventured off into the direction of where he had seen Rae'non. After a minute Leon found him, still moving between stances. Leon stood there quietly as the swordsman finished and sheathed his blade, bowing formally to seemingly the air.


"Nice waltz"

 

Haskeen never felt right on horseback, with all the ways he knew how to kill the animal and its rider how could he feel safe? Needless to say he was quick to dismount. The forest edge, dark and dense, a last place of departure. He got to work, quickly pitching his little tent, a tall white thing, hardly big enough for him to lie down in, and within he stored his possessions before mingling, though his spear never left his hand and his coverings never left his face.

His large friend and the winged one had began to converse, before he had a chance to state his opinion on the place, but Haskeen was not opposed to making new acquaintances, on the contrary good relations had kept him out of trouble more than once.

Quickly he approached the two, offering one hand, choked in fine jewelry, to the lovely lady saying, "Greetings to you, dear women. I see you have met the Black Dragon already, but who you are exactly I am not sure. I am Haskeen, Spear of Mulesk. How am I to refer to you?"