Raven slowly lowered her knife when she saw how Malefius embraced the stranger, then she looked at Tyson. "Malefius," she said slowly, not really knowing anything about the man other than his name and face. "Is that man," Raven pointed out Malefius while she continued speaking, "a wizard, an old fool, the person who nearly go me killed, the only onw who can get us out of here and the person who will hopefully still live long enough to buy me a pair of new boots." Raven studied the new person -Isen- with his mud covered cloak and hood. "The real question is: who's this new guy, this Isen," Raven turned to Tyson once again, this time with the beginning of a smile around her lips. "And how is it that we run into someone one of us appears to know while we are in the middle of nowhere."
Isen returned the embrace and gave Malefius a genuine smile. A rare sight from the quiet and taciturn elf. He surveyed the motley assortment of people standing around panting. Knights, wizards, an old man, apprentices and servants. Several of them seemed pretty banged up. Returning his gaze to Malefius he gave a wry grin, "With all the racket the trolls made I'm surprised any creature this side of the mountain is still asleep." Turning serious once more, his face blanked back to its usual inscrutablity. One was left with the sense that the curtains had been drawn over the windows of a house. "Idlewild was attacked by a band of raiders. With glowing eyes. Fortunately with the commotion in Highguard everyone was up. The raiders were detected and slain to a man. I had the survivors go to the Lockland Split for the night in case more came looking. I stayed behind to keep an eye on the place when I heard the racket your rude awakening stirred up among the daybirds." Isen looked at the group a second time. Pale blue eyes shining from the shadows of his hood, "What happened, Malefius?"
Tyson looked bewildered as he looked at the three of them and stood forward towards Isen "What part?" he laughed but instantly regretted it after, clutching at his chest he looked at Isen with pity, Tyson himself was poor but he didn't ever look like this, caked in mud and he looked like a herd of cattle had trampled over him.
Mordin, Thomas. Mordin sagged down against the jagged wall, even though it was still night he had to shield his eyes from the moonlight. His thin lips were set into a grim line, fighting to keep any expression of pain off his face. He was fully aware of the commotion nearby but did not bother himself with it, Malefius had recognized the man and his initial alarm drowned in the desire to lay down and sleep. Thomas however, was much more concerned. He had taken it upon himself to tend to the servant girl. As effective as his magic had proven to be, it had also drained him and his attempts at healing suffered because of it. The only reason he was exhausting himself even further was because Mordin had begged him to help the girl. Why he valued her at all was beyond him, but to preserve his night's rest he had obliged to Mordin's request. The Sherwilgen enchantment restored much of the internal damage, but did nothing to relieve the pain, and he carried no potions on him to help sedate the girl. Some form of surgery or powerful magic was probably required to ever let her recover fully, but for now, he kept her from dying. Quietly, he listened in on the conversation between the newcomer and the old fool, he gritted his teeth and tried not to jump up and strangle the two of them. "What happened, Malefius?" With clenched fists he stormed over to the newcomer and pulled up inches short of his pretty, little face. "What happened?" his voice cracked with anger, "your friend here was putting up a fireworks display, that's what happened!" He nearly stabbed the man with his finger, "and we almost payed for it with out lives!" He backed off a few steps and clinched his jaw at the sight of Malefius. "I won't follow you, old man. I'd rather survive." With that, he turned his back on the old mage, the elf and everyone else and crouched beside Mordin. His young apprentice gave him a furious, unrelenting stare in return. He hated the pretentious, arrogant Thomas that was cropping up ever more often.
A sun elf? Serana was still catching her breath when the creature materialized from the shadows. She didn't see or hear him coming, but one of the servant girls picked up on it and that's what got Serana's attention. She was wary, at first, but frankly too tired to do a damn thing about it. She didn't even bother to unsheathe her dagger. The elf embraced Malefius and informed the elderly mage that Idlewild --their intended destination-- had fared no better than Highguard. Great, Serana thought, with a heavy sigh. They shouldn't have stopped to rest. Doing so had allowed the red plague to sweep by. They were now behind enemy lines and she could only wonder how much farther the blight had spread while they twiddled their thumbs in Nv'idyor. When the sun elf, Isen, asked what happened, Thomas angrily barged in and gave a very animated account of what had taken place in the dwarven city. "What happened? Your friend here was putting up a fireworks display, that's what happened and we almost paid for it with our lives!" He backed off a few steps and clinched his jaw at the sight of Malefius. "I won't follow you, old man. I'd rather survive." Serana found herself glaring at his back as the old man shuffled away and took a seat next to Mordin, who did not look particularly pleased either. "Well, that's one way of putting it," she said, looking to Isen. "The way I see it, we all helped build the campfire. Either light source could have gotten the trolls' attention. Laying the blame on the shoulders of the man who led us out of Highguard is laughable at best, moronic at worst, and rude either way." She smiled beautifully, despite the circumstances. "And saying such things in front of the very dangerous-looking elf who calls him 'friend' isn't exactly wise either." Serana offered her hand. "Serana Sylania, at your service. Forgive him; his wits have failed him in his old age."
Annette Annette groaned when she came to. Blinking to clear her blurred vision, she looked around to see that, thankfully, everyone had made it, but they had one more than they'd had before. And though the pain in her side and legs had not lessened, she felt better oddly enough. Using her arms, Annette grunted and pushed herself up into a sitting position before leaning herself back against a boulder for support. Jinx sprang from Mordin's grip and curled up in her lap, and though the movement was painful, Annette managed a small smile. "Thanks." she rasped, both to Mordin, Thomas, and James. If they'd not been there, Annette surely would have died and been eaten by the trolls. Then an argument broke out and Annette looked up with wide eyes. "Serana Sylania, at your service. Forgive him; his wits have failed him in his old age." Annette scowled. "Hey, even I know to watch my tongue. Both young and old have faults, and you aren't so young yourself! So don't go speaking badly of him when you hadn't been of much use against the troll!" Annette didn't know why, but she got a sense that Serana wasn't as young as she made herself appear. Though she didn't know the actual truth, there must be some kind of potion that the woman used to make herself appear young she assumed. Plus, she would put money on the fact that very few people could be so sharp-tongued as someone who had lived a long life.
"Hey, even I know to watch my tongue,” one of the servant girls said. “Both young and old have faults, and you aren't so young yourself! So don't go speaking badly of him when you hadn't been of much use against the troll!" “Oh, I’m the bad one now?” Serana said, pretending to be shocked by these accusations. “I was only coming to Malefius’s defense. No need to be nasty, darling.” She smiled. “As for the troll… perhaps when you’re a little older you’ll learn that not every fight is your fight. With all the knights and mages around, we don’t need servant girls with butterknives charging in and getting themselves crippled.”
"Having someone dispensable die is better than having someone needed die." Annette couldn't believe how coldly she had just said that, but it was the truth. She was a servant -she didn't have any special skills other than what she learned from books. If a healer died, who would take care of the wounded? If a knight died, that was one less to defend them. Annette was just a pawn in this game. And so it was her duty to try and protect the other lives no matter how hard or how foolish it seemed. She didn't once avert her eyes from the woman, and instead spat out the next bit through clenched teeth. "Doing something is better than doing nothing. At least i tried, and if i hadn't distracted it neither the spear nor the other dagger may have killed it so easilly. I didn't see oyu once poke your head out of the rubble,a dn surely you must have some kind of potion on your person that would deal with a troll? acid? explosives? I am not stupid -i know many things, and i acted upon what i could do. You, however, didn't."
"Having someone dispensable die is better than having someone needed die." “That kind of cold calculation only works if everyone is doing the same math,” Serana said, though she was quite sure the girl wouldn’t understand -- Annette was too young to understand. If she attempted to throw her life away, one of the healers would attempt to throw their life away to save her. In fact, that is precisely what nearly happened: Annette risked her life and now their mages were drained because they’d tried to bring her back from the brink of death. You miscalculated and now you’re a burden to the group, Serana thought. Congratulations. "Doing something is better than doing nothing. At least I tried, and if I hadn't distracted it neither the spear nor the other dagger may have killed it so easily,” the girl said. “I didn't see you once poke your head out of the rubble and surely you must have some kind of potion on your person that would deal with a troll? acid? explosives? I am not stupid -I know many things, and I acted upon what I could do. You, however, didn't." “Spare me the hypotheticals. You made a poor decision. You got lucky. You’re only alive now because the others found you indispensable,” Serana said. “I tried to tend the wounded, but the young knight here,” she nodded to Niko, “is as suicidal as you. As for the contents of my satchel, that’s none of your business. I will use my potions when I see fit and you’re hardly in any position to dictate strategy to me.” She stared into the girl’s eyes. “Anything else, dear?”
Raven was about to walk away from the group of people who all appeared to blame someone else for what went wrong, when the woman -Serana- spoke up. Raven didn't say anything; she merely listened to the arguing of the others, getting more and more annoyed with Serana as she did so. "We don't need servant girls with butterknives charging in and getting themselves crippled." Raven clenched her teeth; she didn't know whether this got to her because it insulted the only person on Highguard whom she would ever have called a friend, or because the woman clearly didn't give Raven the credit she thought she deserved. "Anything else, dear?" It wasn't as much the woman's words as the way she said it that made Raven do what she did; Raven moved as quickly and as quietly as she could and before she even realized what she was doing she had pressed her dagger against Serana's neck. "Shut up," Raven hissed, "and listen very carefully, or you will find out just how dangerous this "butterknife" can be." She didn't give herself time to be surprised about her own behaviour. "One of those servant girls you're talking about just saved your sorry life by killing that godforsaken troll, and I suggest you're grateful for that, because I don't just safe lives; I can also take them away. And I won't hesitate to do so if you keep bothering my friend, my injured friend who risked her life to safe you. You seem to think you're so much better than either of us, and maybe you were so back in Highguard, but things are different here. Right here it doesn't matter who you were back there, here it matters what you can do to survive and help others to do so. I can fight and she risked her life trying to safe us, but what did you do? You didn't do anything to stop the troll, did you? You didn't even throw a single stone. The only thing you're good for is keeping the men some company if it gets cold," Raven sneered at the woman. Of course she knew she wasn't entirely telling the truth; if she hand't killed the troll someone else would have and despite the rumours Raven was not a murderer, but she couldn't care less about telling the whole truth at that moment. "From now on you will leave Annette alone and find someone of your own kind if you really need to be annoying. What about those trolls back there? They're more like you than any of us after all. And besides; you should worry about dangerous people who don't care about your..." Raven looked at Serana's body, trying to find a fitting insult, but she couldn't come up with anything. "...who don't care about that." Without paying any more attention to Serana Raven walked toward Annette and sat down next to her - apparently the only other person who still had some common sense left after everything that had happened.
Serana had unsheathed her dagger almost instantly and had its tip pressed to the girl's belly while Raven's knife was pressed to her throat. One twitch and they'd both spill one another's guts on the floor. But, after a moment, Raven backed down and walked away. "Tending the wounded isn't the mark of someone who thinks she's better than you," Serana replied. "You clearly haven't listened to a word I said." As someone who had grown up from squalor, Serana took offense to that. These were servants in the castle. If they thought life was hard there, they had no idea what it meant to truly be someone's bitch. She had to bite her tongue to avoid saying as much. "Just stop it," William muttered from where he stood in the shadows. "She was protecting me the whole time. I never would've gotten out of Highguard without her help." "Don't waste your breath," Serana said as she sheathed her dagger. "These petty outbursts have delayed us long enough."
Raven's anger faded away as soon as it had appeared; she realized she had gotten to the woman somehow, and that had been enough to ease her anger. "Tending to the wounded is not a bad thing, no, but picking on a girl who probably can't even stand up at the moment is, just like not giving her credit for the sacrifice she made trying to safe us. And that's all I've heard you say, but then again: maybe that's just me," no weapons this time, no unnecessary insults; just the truth. For anyone else this would have been giving up, but for Raven it was survival. One uncontrolled move was stupid enough, she would not allow herself a second time. There was one simple reason for the sudden change; the moment Serana had pressed the tip of her dagger against Raven's stomach the girl had realized that she should already have died three times that night -they all should have died that night- but they hadn't died and a part of her wondered why. Some people would have shrugged this off as coincidence, but Raven did not believe in such a thing. If she should have explained why they were the ones to stay alive Raven would have said it was because they were needed for something, maybe it was something unimportant and maybe they were the only people capable of stopping the red eyed demons. Either way they had all been given a second chance and it would be stupid to waste that. Raven crossed her legs and closed her eyes, but she neither put her dagger back in its seath, not allowed herself to lose focus; they had been in danger and -while there was no threat now- crossing one bridge had not changed that.
Annette said nothing. She had gotten her point across anyways, and even before she may have been able to speak Raven had put in her two cents. Serana, thankfully, backed off, and the situation had been somewhat resolved for the moment. The boy said something from where he stood in the shadows, and though Annette momentarily pitied him, she knew that this kind of situation did not call for any weakness. Neither of them had done anything, and the boy could very well have just hidden on his own to let Serana help out. But the argument was over. It was best not to make blood-enemies out of your only allies, and bringing it up again would only make people even more tense. Sighing, Annette shared a look with Raven and decided that she better try to move around. Even in her injured state, she should figure out what strength that she still had so that she could improve upon it. Her arms trembled when Annette braced herself on the boulder, then pushed off and managed to stand on shaky legs. Still, she wasn't strong enough to hold her own weight enough to move yet -at least on her legs- so she fell back on the boulder to avoid further damaging the shattered bones. As Annette started to fall backwards, James darted forwards to help her. He caught her under her arms and set her down slowly. "You're not strong enough to stand on your own," he said, concerned. He'd thought Mordin and Thomas would have been able to do more, but the boy was only an apprentice and Thomas had looked exhausted. "I'll help you," James said, and put his arm around Annette so that she could lean on his shoulder. Slowly, they got to their feet and, although James almost collapsed under Annette's practically dead weight, he was determined to help her and stood upright. They took a few shuffling steps forward and soon fell into a slow, easy rhythm that helped Annette take the weight off the most damaged of her legs. After a few minutes, they both sat down against the wall; Annette needed to stay rested. James turned his head and smiled at her, his heart momentarily skipping a beat, but then he chastised himself; how could he think about a girl at a time like this? "Maybe . . . I could make some sort of crutch to keep me upright so i can . . . move on my own . . ." Annette panted, and when James turned to smile at her she laughed a little bit despite the pain that lanced up from her abused ribs. Everyone here tried so hard to help each other, why could Serana not see that? Give her a few days and Annette may be able to move on her own just fine, and if she got crutches it'd go even faster. Jinx mewled, annoyed at having been dumped from her previous spot in Annette's lap, then curled up on James's leg and gave him a look that dared him to move before she fell asleep again. Annette's grin widened, and she had to hold her stomach to keep from laughing too hard. "Looks like she likes you . . . not many people even get away without a scratch." Now that she looked at him more closely, Annette actually caught a faint blush on his face when he looked away. Dammit! Not an appropriate time! Not an appropriate time at all! Annette quickly looked up at the sky and tried to think of anything else than him at that moment, but once she'd seen someone that she thought of as cute, it would never leave her be. Definitely not good timing.
Mordin tuned out and rested his head in Thomas's lap. His mentor regained his former, kinder attitude, ruffled the boy's hair and smiled at him. If what Mordin had told him was true, he could understand the boy's distaste for arguments. -- The summer heat had blazed upon them that day and the small Mordin, his older brother Peter and Stella, a girl from a nearby village, were enjoying themselves at the lake. Even though Peter was almost twice as old as Mordin, he didn't mind hanging out with his younger sibling. “Come on!” Peter called from the water. Mordin hesitated, he wasn't the best swimmer and preferred having both feet on the ground. Besides, Peter had been pulling all sorts of strange pranks on him, like locking him up to 'test' his 'patience' and challenging him to a dagger fight to 'test' his 'strength'. Mordin disliked the jealous look in his brother's eyes, but with Stella around he figured not much could go wrong. “Wimp!” Peter called. Within five seconds Mordin had stripped down to his undies and charged into the water, splashing it at the two lovers. “Come on then!” he shrieked. They exchanged a few more splashes, then headed deeper into the water. “Let's go to the island,” Peter suggested. Whether it was his thin-lipped smile, his startlingly blue eyes, or his well-kept hair that won Stella over, Mordin didn't know, but his handsome brother knew how to play the game. “Can I come too?” Mordin chirped. “Sure.” “Can he swim that far?” Stella asked, worried. She forked her finger trough her hair and appeared genuinely concerned. Peter shrugged, “Of course he can, he is my brother. You can get there, right?” Unwilling to be left behind, Mordin nodded vigorously and together they set off towards the distant shore. He didn't dare to admit it, but his arms were trembling from exhaustion when they'd nearly reached the fifteen square feet of sand that they called an island. Excited to be allowed to go with his brother, Mordin sent another splash of water at him. “I'll get you,” Peter threatened playfully. He fled underwater and Mordin was roaring victory cheers when two strong arms snapped around his ankles. He barely had enough time to fill his lungs with air before he was pulled down. The chirping birds and the laughter of Stella faded, the strange, bubbly silence of water pressed on his ears. He kicked his feet, trying to break free but Peter had other plans. The pressure in his chest began to build, the cool water was getting darker around the edges, his heart began to trot then gallop. He kicked again and screamed. Water streamed in his mouth and he was sure that he would never reach the surface in time. He didn't even feel his brother letting go of him as he tried to swim up again. Instead, the light above seemed to get away from him, almost teasingly. A faint, muffled shout reached his ears before he began to sink uselessly into the gaping abyss below. The last few bubbles danced away. Something was pulling at him. Air. Mordin gasped and spluttered as the sudden cool of air enveloped him. Stella had her arms wrapped around his waist and was dragging him ashore. “Idiot!” Mordin coughed up water. What was she calling him an idiot for? He saw his brother surface at the edge of his vision, and only then realized that Stella was scolding at him. “You almost killed him!” She kept carrying Mordin until they were ashore and then carefully put him down. Peter rushed out of the water, his eyes twice their normal size. “Are you alright?” “Of course he isn't! Look at him!” Mordin had no idea what he looked like, but the horror on Peter's face wasn't very reassuring. In fact, his bug-eyed brother seemed more horrified to see him alive. His throat burned and his lungs felt like they'd been stuffed with wet rags instead of air. The warmth of the burning sun had been replaced by a freezing cold blanket, wrapping itself around his shivering skin. “I-I'm okay...” he stuttered as he tried to sit upright. Another coughing fit followed and Stella resorted to patting him on his back until his lungs had cleared. “Thanks,” he rasped. Peter just stood there, petrified. “It was just a joke.” He shifted his weight uneasily then straightened his back. “Maybe we ought to go back?” he suggested. His jaw was tense and his mask of casualness was shattered by the constant, predator-like shifting of his eyes. “Are you daft?” Stella shouted as she stormed up to Peter. “He barely made it here!” The sound of a smack traveled across the lake. Peter touched his cheek, a sly smile curled his lips, deepening the dimples in his cheeks. “You dare?” His brother seemed to grow taller. Taller even than the single tree that stood on their small, abandoned island. Still, Stella stood her ground. “Idiot. Can't you admit you-” Mordin saw Stella double over. Peter's fist was trapped between the fold of her belly. Mordin got up on his bony legs and stumbled to her aid, but his brother's other fist sent him back towards the ground. “Stay out of this brother.” “You're a coward,” Stella snapped. She was about to say more when Peter threw her to the ground. Only then did Mordin spot the sharpened stone in Peter's hand. “Wait!” Peter arched a sly eyebrow at Mordin, then jumped on top of Stella and covered her mouth with one hand. Mordin lunged forward and scratched desperately at his brother's back. But it was too late. Peter didn't just smash the side of her head, he kept relentlessly pounding the pointy rock against her skull until she didn't flinch or scream anymore. He tossed Mordin, who had been trying to disarm him, off his back. “Wait for your turn, little brother.” His voice was colder than the ice that covered the lake in winter. The snakes of malice slithered into every word. Even the drops of water on his body stopped to move, as if his heart had turned so cold that they'd frozen on the spot. “What are you doing?” Peter had stripped down completely and was licking his lips. “Don't look,” he commanded as he fidgeted to get Stella's remaining clothes off. Mordin obeyed. Even with his ears covered, he could still hear the sickening, rhythmic sound, as if he was slapping her. Mordin buried his head between his knees. Nearly suffocating with fear, he awaited his turn. -- “What are you thinking about?” Thomas asked softly. Mordin tried to hide the water in his eyes, “n-nothing,” he stammered almost inaudibly.
Malefius glanced back over his shoulder, “We did make quite the mess for ourselves. But we survived and we shall take heart in that, for many did not. Sadly, Highguard has fallen. Darn must be told.” He said, staring at Isen with judging eyes. He needed him on this. Isen frowned, an unusual expression on one whose face seemed to be doing so perpetually anyway. He surveyed the motley assortment of people gathered there. When he had taken Malefius and Bane the first time it had been bad enough. Now this… When the old man stormed over Isen gripped a knife at his side. A fire lit in his eyes at the old fools words. As the elder turned away, "If there's anyone that I trust to know what they're doing it's Malefius. Whatever he did saved you. If he hadn't you'd likely be dead." The hunter went to turn away but Malefius grabbed him hard. “I need you on this Isen. We all do. Tell me that you have not seen the evil we face? Tell me that Idlewild still stands, the shy little hamlet nestled under pine trees survived?” Malefius watched as Isen’s eyes darted to the floor, his shoulders slumping heavy in despair. Isen stared at the woman who spoke up for a moment, not sure what to say. Taking the proffered hang he replied, "Isen Holt. Dangerous is a very subjective term," making his name sound like one word. However turning back to Malefius,“You know where it is,” Isen protested. He looked down then back up to Malefius with squinted eyes. "Maybe it's time Darn knows what it feels like to live under the yoke of oppressors," he glanced around and added so quietly that Malefius could hardly hear it, "Nothing changes for me anyway." “Your hatred will ruin you.” The wizard said grimly, pointing a crooked finger at him. Isen snapped his head back up, "Hatred? I just think perhaps a great equalizer is in order. I defended Idlewild and those that lived there. I will defend myself. I care little for whoever decides to call themselves king. Nothing really changes." “You truly are blinder than I.” The wizard said shaking his head in anger. “This evil sweeps over all. It does not pick and choose its enemies, and when the time comes it will sweep across Darn like a wretched plague, devouring everything in sight; including your very own brothers and sisters who sit in squalor. And yet you stand here proudly, telling me that you would rather see Kings burn than save your own?” He paused for a moment to watch every last word sink in. “Maybe it is better that we find another to lead us to Darn.” And with that he turned his back on Isen, re-joining the rest of the group. Stunned, Isen was silent as he watched Malefius storm off. The old wizard was right, he realized. Glumly Isen called out, "Wait, Malefius. I'll take you. Too many innocents will die otherwise. Armies care little for who they find. Be it unprepared villagers or an organized army." He remembered what had happened earlier that night to Idlewild. Many of the residents had been killed. If they had all been sleeping when the raiders had came, none of them would likely be alive.
Mordin, William. "Are you sure you're okay?" Thomas asked. Mordin dried his eyes with his sleeve and nodded. Thomas wasn't convinced but decided to let it slide for the time being. Mordin looked away, and scanned the little group with his eyes. His gaze kept returning to the other boy, and sparkle of curiosity ignited in his chest. William noticed Mordin watching him many seconds before the boy actually approached. He silently hoped Mordin would not come near him, partly because he was slightly afraid of him and partly because Mordin was covered in troll blood, which made him smell like a month-old chamber pot. Mordin mustered his courage, rose to his feet and approached the other boy. "Hi..." he said as he offered his hand, "I am Mordin, what's your name?" William hesitantly accepted the boy's hand thrust out at him, like a dead fish. "I'm… ermmm… I'm Will," he said. He'd intended to say 'William,' but a wave of nausea snapped his jaws shut halfway through. "I'm Will," he said again, liking the sound of it. “A-and you're Mordin, right? I, umm, I heard the old man say it a couple of times." Mordin was quick to let go of Will's rather limp hand, and he casted a brief glance over his shoulder to check if there was a troll standing behind him, the boy was acting very nervous. When he'd made sure that there wasn't, Mordin returned his gaze to Will and sat down beside him, “how old are you?" “Me?” Will said. For some reason, the question caught him off guard, as if he was being challenged. “I-I’m twelve,” he said. “But I can take care of myself. I’m not a kid.” Mordin arched an eyebrow, "you're older than me?" A sting pierced his heart as he realized he had killed the woman that had been with Will. "Can I ask you something?" "No," he said in a sigh. "But I bet you're gonna ask it anyway." Mordin's frame stiffled at the remark. It wasn't like he enjoyed being around Will, but they were about the same age, it was more or less expected of them to stick around each other. His supposed friend wasn't really helping. "Not if you're going to be like that," he snapped, perhaps a bit too forcefully. He lowered his head in defeat, "I'm just trying to be nice," he whispered. "Sorry. Just ask the question," William murmured. This boy was easily the most sensitive troll-killer he'd ever seen. Mordin returned Will's apology with one of his own. Thomas was rummaging through his rucksack and the others were too busy arguing. There wasn't a better time to relieve his conscious than now. "That woman, was she..." Mordin hesitated, “was she a relative?" "No," Will said. "I just sort of knew her." He paused for a long moment before asking, "What does it matter anyway? Is knowing someone a reason to not kill them? Would she be alive now if she was my mum or something? No, cuz my mum's already dead so... whatever." He wasn't sure why he was saying all of this to the boy; it just spilled out. The sorrowful expression on Mordin's face lifted. "Thomas isn't my father either," he confessed. For the first time, Mordin felt as if they'd found a some common ground. It was a sad, swampy piece of common ground, but common ground nevertheless. Another silence settled between them. Mordin opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure if he should ask. "Why is she looking after you?" He nudged his head towards Serana. Will shrugged. "I don't know. 'Cuz I showed up on her doorstep, I guess." He exhaled. "The orphanage was crowded and the kids there were mean, so I started begging for food in the market. Miss Silvia chased me away at first, but then I guess she changed her mind." His voice trailed off as he remembered that time. "She took me in and cleaned me up, said it was only for a few days... that was four years ago." He poked a hole in the ground with his finger before looking back up at Will. "My parents were both druids," he said. "I was blamed for something I didn't do. They locked me up and disowned me.” He sighed, “I don't know what they were planning do to with me, Thomas doesn't want to talk about it, but I know he saved me." A bitter taste entered his mouth, as if the words he'd just spoken were imbued with venom. He pulled his shirt down near the collar to reveal the tattoo to the left on his chest. “This is all I have from them.” The temptation to reveal more was great, but he didn't dare trust Will quite yet. “Still, we're very lucky I suppose.” "Why do people always say that after something bad happens?" Will said. "If we were lucky, our parents would be alive and Highguard wouldn't have burned to the ground." Mordin shrugged his small shoulders, "I wouldn't want my parents back," he said with a shiver. "Would you? If you could?" "I would," William said and hung his head. "But I can't... and with things going the way they are, I wouldn't wish that on them." They sat in silence. One looking quite the warrior with his half-long, greasy, blood-soaked hair, filth-stained skin and festering wound, and the other -who was twice as muscled, older and slightly taller- sat slightly hunched over, as if he was frightened by his own shadow. Mordin gave Will an odd little smile, he was glad to have a friend.
“Wait, Malefius. I’ll take you. Too many innocents will die otherwise. Armies care little for who they find. Be it unprepared villagers or an organized army.” Isen said. “Ah…” The old wizard sighed with relief, putting his arm around Isen and beaming a wrinkled smile, “Now there’s the brave hunter I remember, with eyes like a hawk and arrows quicker than a lightning bolt.” He grabbed Isen’s chin softly and raised it up till their eyes met. “I pray that you remember that too, my friend.” The biting wind howled through the cave bringing Malefius from his thoughts and back to his wits, and slowly he arched himself towards the rest of the group. “It is time. We go to Darn, but not without the scar of Highguard deep in our minds.” The thought of Lord Jaros bleeding out on the cold, cobblestoned floor of that cellar was enough to make him pause a moment too long, his frail hand crumbling together into a fist. “And that scar burns bright, for we alone know the fate that lies ahead for Hanavar. And we alone must break these chains of fate, and save it from an unstoppable evil. I need you all, be you a druid wiser than your years or a young servant girl with a butter knife…” He gave a weak smile to the injured Annette, “…I need you. Will you accept my call – the call of Highguard, Hanavar and the entire realm?” He gazed at them all with determined eyes, waiting for anyone to answer.
“…I need you. Will you accept my call – the call of Highguard, Hanavar and the entire realm?” Thomas opened his mouth to give Malefius a piece of advice. He would tell the old man that he should do the realm a true favour, and kill himself before the cursed soldiers did, but Mordin was quicker. He'd stood up from his place next to Will and shuffled forward. "I will," he said quietly. Thomas couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Don't fall for the old man's petty speech!" "I will," Mordin repeated much more confidently. "Getting a few lucky shots on a troll doesn't make you a hero! This is a fool's errand!" Thomas had closed the distance between him and his apprentice, and grabbed Mordin by the collar. The boy knocked Thomas's arm away and stepped backwards, "I am not coming with you." Thomas looked like he'd been hit by a carriage. "There's nothing heroic about storming towards certain death." "There's nothing heroic about wandering off on your own," Mordin retorted. A glaze of desperation washed over his eyes. "He saved us from that cellar pa. We can't go off on our own. And I am not going with you anyway." He crossed his arms. But Thomas wasn't swayed yet, Mordin could tell by the puckers on his mentor's forehead. Luckily, Mordin knew of a remedy. His cold-blue eyes widened a bit, the muscles in his face relaxed, and his eyebrows arched upward. "Please..." The mage threw his hands upward in exasperation. "Fine!" He wasn't allowed to say another word as the air was knocked out of him. Mordin had never embraced Thomas so tightly before.
“…I need you. Will you accept my call – the call of Highguard, Hanavar and the entire realm?” James bit his tongue in frustration. After all he'd been through in the last few hours, all he wanted to do was rest; he knew what he should do, but that didn't make it easy. He saw Mordin volunteer, arguing momentarily with Thomas before embracing the old man. James rested his head against the wall behind him, sending a small tremor down his leg. Annette's kitten, he thought she was called Jinx, dug her tiny claws into his leg and looked at him reproachfully with her huge amber eyes. Looking at the kitten, then at her owner, James realized that he couldn't make Annette's sacrifice worth nothing. Apologizing to the kitten for disturbing her rest, he put her on his shoulder and then stood up. "I will," James said, his voice strong.
I'm sure my shop is a pile of ash by now, Serana thought. The entire town was likely a pile of ash. Everything she'd worked for, everything she'd become, was now gone. On one hand, this was a chance to recreate herself, as she'd done many times before. On the other hand, thirty years of her life had been destroyed in one night. Vengeance was a powerful motivator, but there was more to it than that. Getting even was a petty thing to do. No, she was motivated by curiosity. She wanted to know why this happened… and make damn sure it does not happen again. "I'm in," Serana said as she crossed her arms over her ample bosom. She looked toward Will, wondering which direction he would take. The boy looked like he'd gotten punched in the face and wasn't sure which way the blow had come from. Perhaps he needed a reminder. "And you're coming too," she said to him, in a low voice. "I was going to give you that shop when you turned sixteen. That was your inheritance they took. If that doesn't light a fire under your ass, I don't know what will."
Nikko listened as everyone agreed to help the old wizard. The guilty feeling in his gut seemed to get heavier. He'd failed to protect Lord Jaros, failed to protect his best friend and faithful servant, failed in killing the troll, and had to have a serving girl assist him safety...Nikko felt like a failure as a knight. All he had was his sword and chain-mail. He didn't even have a shield. Despite it all, how could he refuse, Malefius. What better way for the young knight to redeem himself and to prove himself worthy of the of the title "Knight of Highguard", than to join Malefius in his quest to save the kingdom. "You have my sword."
Raven stared into the darkness in one of the corners of the cave. From the moment she had left the burning Highguard behind she had considered traveling to Sin’Das Rei, to find the only possible relative she knew of and now the old wizard was asking her -asking all of them- to follow him to something that would either make them all legendary, or bring a certain death. As Raven thought about her possibilities her thoughts drifted to a place she had hoped to leave behind years ago. *** The dark haired girl pulled at her mother's arm. The girl had only turned 8 recently and her appearance clearly indicated that one of her parents -in this case her father- was an elf. "Mommy, I wanna go outside," the child said. She spoke quietly, because her mother had always told her not to draw any attention. "I just need a minute now, Raven. We will go outside once I'm done." "But the people scare me," her voice was only a whisper, now. "They act strange..." "You're imagining things. I should not have told you that story last night." The young Raven did not reply this time. The truth was that she only remembered part of a story; it had been about an elf, a Drow from Sin'Das Rei, who had fallen in love with a human, that was the only thing the child had heard before she fell asleep. Instead of telling her mother this Raven kept tugging at the woman's arm. That was when Raven's mother finally sensed what the girl had already noticed. "Raven, you can go outside and wait for me there. I will be with you soon," if Raven had not grown up running from an unnamed danges she would not have understood the tone of her mother's voice, but this was not the case and the young girl knew what it meant; she had to get away as soon as possible. The girl did not make it to the door in time to miss the next thing that happened, and soon she would wish this had been different. Three of the people who had only seemed to be harmless strangers until that moment walked up to the woman, grabbed her and pressed one knife against her throat and another one against her stomach, all of this happened within seconds. Even if the woman had known what happening she could not have done anything to avoid it. The first man drew a knife across the woman's stomach, a cut that was deep enough to cause immense pain, but not deep enough to kill... no, the woman would not be killed yet. A second slash of the knife, another wound, only meant to torture. It was the game of a predator who knew its prey was helpless. Raven would never understand how, but somehow the woman managed not to scream, not to cry, not to do anything other than stare at something no one else could see. "Go. Run." Raven heard the woman's words, but she could not understand them, she could only stare, frozen by something she could not begin to explain. Terror was an understatement, pain would not be the right word to express what the sight of this cruelty made the girl feel. "Run." Merely a thought on the wind; a clear message, but still not enough to make the child realize what she was facing. As the world as she knew it collapsed Raven oddly found herself thinking about something entirely irrelevant. How does the story end? "She had to be killed," Raven's mother managed to whisper, like she had read her daughters mind. They would both be killed, her eyes told the girl. "Run." This time Raven finally understood. This time she finally ran, but she still heard her mother scream. *** They both had to die. Raven knew what it meant, even though she did not want to admit it; it meant that she could never return to Sin'Das Rei to find out the truth. "I will come with you," Raven said and then she added, whispering: "Because I have nowhere else to go."
“…I need you. Will you accept my call – the call of Highguard, Hanavar and the entire realm?” "I will" Tyson said standing up straight with a grunt and scape of his bow lifting off the floor. "I'm personally going to kill the guy who sent those guards on a killing spree who killed all those innocent people". he looked over towards James and nodded and walked over to him as he continued talking. "As a combined group we could do it you know?" he turned around and looked at the others. "We could stop them as a team, stop the people who threaten the ones we love." He looked at the group, unknown if they had anyone left. "And get vengeance for those lives they have taken" He looked at James and placed a hand on his shoulder and stared at him in the eyes. "I pretty much have nothing left, my family are practically gone, and my remaining family, who knows may have been killed in the village by those demons" "And I'm not going to let them shit on my life and walk all over me like people have done so in my past". He looked at the others who still had not yet said anything and then again at the people who had. "Malefius, I have never met you before, but you saved my life back in that castle, so yes you have my bow and my skill and my life following you to the bitter end." he nodded at Malefius and looked back at Raven and back at James and then laughed at himself "Wow that was way too deep, even for me."
“…I need you. Will you accept my call – the call of Highguard, Hanavar and the entire realm?” Marcus was initially hesitant to inflict even more of his own Failures on these people than he already had, but when he thought about the impossible monsters that were spreading further and further, he decided that he might as well try something. Surely there was no way that even he could make things any worse for anybody than it already was? Besides, even if he died himself, he realized that he would at least be able to beg Melea's forgiveness to her face the way she deserved after what he did. He also remembered when Malefius had mentioned having an acquaintance with Master Tiberius, and if Marcus finally got to die, then he decided that it was better for one of Master's friends to tell him the good news, rather than leaving Master to always wonder whether Marcus might come back some day to hurt someone else. "I'm coming too."
Raven looked at all the others who had already agreed to follow Malefius to wherever this maddness would take them. They all seemed so sure about themselves, despite knowing they would be risking their life for... for what? The realm? Friends and family? Revenge for what happened at Highguard or honor? Raven had realized she didn't know most these people and until then she had thought she cared about them very little, but yet she wondered what made those people do what they did. Shadow rubbed himself agains Raven's legs, nearly making the girl cry out in surprise. After a moment Raven's surprise became joy when she realized her cat had decided to come back to her. "Hey, boy," Raven pulled the cat onto her lap and started scratching the animal behind his ears. "How has your night been? I hope you didn't get killed... well, almost killed, as often as I did tonight." Shadow purred, something that amazed Raven, because the cat hardly showed affection toward any human being. He probably realized they were all still alive, something Raven had also realized, but not appreciated until that moment. "Yes, I've missed you too," Raven hugged the cat and for a moment she felt like a little girl -not scared and lost, but happy, optimistic and even adventurous despite the events of the past night and the circumstances they were in.
