NationStates Jolt Archive

The village was aflame.

The pillars of smoke rising as a declaration of this small place's demise through the combined might of the chaotic creatures which had spawned from that place. Thier cloven hooves painted patterns upon the scorched land as they galloped around in mad delight.

The night sky held that scent of burning and blood could be smelt all around, the small village was situated within a deep forest which could consume a traveller and make them lost offered no salvation from outside towns. The deep pine and eternal snow making the sense of direction nonsense in a raw form, although the creatures which had stormed this place certainly knew thier purpose and direction to this once quaint civilised group of human hunters.

Styx threw back his brown mane of hair, and balked at the flames which had engulfed the windmill, the huge blades still burning away with a demonic passion, the wood crackling and crumbling before the flame's merciless heel. His axe reflected the orange glow of the torched buildings which was all around, and the movement of his fellow men storming in glee, cutting down those who ran from Styx's group.

Well, his people could hardly be called men. Commonly known as beastmen to the civilised folk, the furred beasts with cloven feet were no more than warlike animals, who had learnt the forge the tools of destruction. The axe, the hammer, the spear, the shield. All to aid in this destruction. Things of myth and legend made real this night to this place.

Styx paraded around the burning village, a meer minute or so since the warband had been hidden the village was in his opinion, crushed. The people were panic striken when they say them, the things of thier imagination formed into reality by some dark god of the unspeakable abyss. Styx remembered with delight as he had carved with his own massive axe into the family of five, all clinging onto each other, and the father trying in vain with that pathetic blade of his to alay his doom.

But he was unaware of all who were here this night.

He chuckled to himself, his goat like bleat mocking this place, it's so called civilised people could not stand up to thier onslaught. He looked as his small group, his clan, ransacked the place with a diligent delight. Styx prefered to reflect upon that which had just occoured, and drink the experiances and sights of his crushed enemies and give thought to the future. A rare quality in a beastman. And that is what made him the clan leader, his ability to think beyond the moment, to look at what would make the next moment the best kill. And his unmatched ability in combat, three of his would be competator's skull's were upon spikes within the forest.

A roar to his rear, Styx turned to address what was going on, raising his massive ax to see if a fellow had started a scrap over who owned what now, as it was common. Styx would bang heads if that occoured, for he knew unity was the key to power in a clan, although a certain amount of infighting did keep the skills keen Styx thought.

It was hardly a fellow beastman who had caused the bellow, but the bellow did originate from the throat of one of his own. It was the death cry, rage filled and full of venom against that person who had caused his existance to end. His great furred body was impaled upon a spear, which had rocketed through his ribcage, making blood explode in a fountain of retrubution toward's Styx's direction.

The figure looked at Styx directly, a rage of his own upon his face. Blood was upon his face and hands, as the life liquid from the beastman's spine had flowed unto him, tatooing him with the mark of his kill.

"Finally a creature worth killin'!", Styx declared with a rawdy cry of a challenge being presented. He swirled his mighty ax with both of his muscled hands, the flames reflecting wildly from that dull blade. He gave a warcry into the night clouded sky, and charged forth, powered by the thrill of combat. His ax swung within the air towards this new foe which was obviously not of this village, Styx's gleaming red eyes burning with the joy of combat which his brothers shared so passionately.

The figure gritted his teeth, pulling out his own instrument of combat from the beastman's chest with a sickening noise of gut and bone being removed, and met his own skills with that of the beastman....the two soon locked in deadly embrace...


---


One day earlier, a short distance south from the village....

The birds sang thier joyful tune within the sunlight of the morning, the orange orb raising slowly and lazily to greet the denzients of earth. The towering forms of the pine trees was all the reluctant traveller could see, and he had been seeing them for many a day now since his departure.

The air was crisp and filled with the cold moisture that snow brought this morning. It was dampening Gabriel's spirits, as the snow brought the damp which he could do well without. The pine trees were sprinkled with the stuff, the snow covered everything and everyone. And everyone was just Gabriel and the animals of the wood at the moment, at least that he knew.

He sat upon his thick woolen cloak, packing up his traveling items and making sure all of his equipment was in order. His spear lay by him, the spear of a humble and simple make. No magic did touch the blade, no jewel did guide the hand, just a simple weapon of a novice dragoon left home due to circumstances gone wrong.

His chain mail hang around his thin body, slightly out of place due to his kneeling position. Again, the chain mail was simple in design, and a few of the rings were broken and chipped, in need of repair. The clothes that he wore again were of simple nature, the dark green garments which lay below the chain mail.

Gabriel was a rather tall and nimble human being, his fingers long and dexerious, although his youthful arms lacking the raw power of the peers which he had left. He had been training with the spear as his prime weapon, and a dragoon he aspired to be, a warrior who used the spear with gravid elegengance, and using agility to bring down thier foes, not raw strength.

His eyes were a strange green, rare for his family. Those eyes looked around this forest, looking for the origin of the sounds he swore he could hear.

His hair was long, in need of more care and maintenance. His hair was a fine blonde, making him appear rather feminine, although in a beautiful and fitting way, his form being hardly accustomed to the harsh outdoors.

A noise of moment came from around him.

"Who is there?" Gabriel called out quietly, just loud enough for a person to hear, yet not loud enough to attract too much attention. He reached for his spear just in case it was a bear or something. It was not the first time that a animal had attacked, and the first time he had been forced to run from an overbearing grizzly which had decided to charge from nowhere.


(OOC This is an open rp, where you can fit yourself in almost anywhere. A normal person of the village to be attacked by the beastmen, a hermit within the wood, a visitor to this region, whatever. Just make it plausable. You could even know about the iminant beastman attack through a premonition.

What I do ask if you join this is that you are of a "low level". NO magical weapons, with extremely rare exceptions, and these exceptions are to be minor magical items. The reason for this is, is that if there is to be a combat, I want the characters that we will be having to actually struggle and rely on luck and pure will to get through. Wizards and clerical characters are allowed, but again, with low abilities and skills. Simply put, each character has weakness, and a realism about them.

You *can* create events of your own, it would not be fun otherwise for you and myself. Just nothing major, I will be providing them to keep the story rolling. (For example, having your character preaching to the village about the beastmen because you have recieved a message from god, and everyone getting arms and preparign would not be ok. It would be ok if you did the same thing, and no-one listened to you and regarded you as an idiot who was about to be arrested for disturbing the peace because of it.)

Try and make your characters blissfully unaware that the village will be attacked by the night, so that when it does happen, we all have to fight for our lives :)

Oh yes, remember to have fun!)

(*Do you want the characters descriptions and items first?*)

(Indeed. Out on a limb I go.)

Kezrhi Kalistan was a haunted young man. It was, in truth, no fault of his own, of course. The destruction of one's prior life, murder and rape of the family...did things to a guy.

He had come in from his family's far-stretching fields, to find the house burning. Mother and sisters laying naked in the dirt, father dead with pitchfork in hand. Walter reacted as one would, running and yelling, and then...crying.

He buried his family in the dark, the only light that of the house burning. With that task finished, he had gathered what he could from the few outbuildings and left. The raiders would return, undoubtedly. Kezhri had no intention of being there.

So, he had set out with what food he could scrounge, his long serrated knife, the one his Uncle Kel had given him, the bow he had used to shoot rabbits for his lunches out in the field, the pitchfork his father had died wielding, his long leather jacket and cloak, and the skin of water he carried with him in the field.

That had been months ago. He had simply kept walking, hunting for his food. He was a natural shot with a bow, his ability to kill animals was simply uncanny. Thus, he had not wanted for food. Water was gained through streams. He kept the hides of the animals he killed in one of the large grain sacks he had brought with him. Getting heavier and heavier, but he didn't believe in wasting things.

He was a tall young man, muscular in a wiry sorta way. His brown hair had grown long and raggedy during his months of wandering, he shaved daily, the razor-edge of his knife served quite well for that.

That knife was his prized possession, a gift from, as far as he knew, the only blood-relative he had left. It held an incredibly sharp edge, and it held it incredibly well. He had sharpened it maybe twice during his trek, and the blade was sharp enough to draw blood on contact.

Right now, it rested in its sheath on his right leg. Two straps held it in place on his thigh, while two lengths of leather extended upwards, to buckle about his belt. His Uncle had called it a 'Drop-down Rig.' Kezhri called it convenient.

Suddenly, he was overtaken by a scent. A scent he knew only too well. The scent of human blood. Something about it simply screamed 'danger.' So. He avoided it. One did not survive as he did by seeking out danger or being heroic. He was a realist, y'know.

Uncle Kel would have investigated. But Uncle Kel would also have real weapons. Other than his knife, Kezhri had only peasant weaponry. Uncle Kel would have had his big sword, the one that he could use just as well with one or both hands. Uncle Kel would have had his composite horse bow, the one that Uncle Kel had said had a '125 pound draw.'

Uncle Kel would have his armor, and Uncle Kel would have had his shield. But Uncle Kel was a Ranger. Kezhri was just a displaced farmboy. A decidedly smart displaced farmboy. One who had lost the foolishness of youth with the death of his family.

So, he kept on walking. After all, the only thing he had to go on was the scent. Whoever it was was probably dead anyways.

The woods were cold and the trees hid the light from above. But in the darkness, there was one thing that was noticable. A large white horse stood tied to a tree. The horse stood out, due to it's luminescent skin. A few feet away from the horse was someting crouched over. It had on a purple velvet cloak and was muttering something into the wind. As the figure lifted it's head, the creamy white of Ainagil's skin was revealed. Her long raven-colored hair cascaded into her cloak and was draped around her shoulders. But there was something different about Ainagil, and the tell-tale sign was her pointed ears. Ainagil was an elf from Sonorus Capita. Her father was the king of the Elves of the Dreon Forest. He had sent her on a mission to find his brother, Fuingond. But she dare not find him, because he was a dark elf. In her shame Ainagil decided not to return to her father. So she wandered around the countyside. Ainagil was desperate. She was starting to get lonely and didn't know where she could go. She had stopped in the wood to pray to Atararat. After she had said her prayer, she jumped onto Lossë, her horse, and rode down the washed out path.

Ainagil was remembering her home and how great her life was. She remembered her best friend Rie, and their countless adventures together. She couldn't beleive she had thrown it all away. But she couldn't go back to her father not having talked with his brother.

(OOC Feel free to jump right in Dragonsreach. I will post once I get onto a deceont computer, because the one which I am on is threateing to crash at any point, and I do not want a really decent point blwoing up on me, as that really frustrates me.)

Gabriel was getting irritated. The damp was making his limbs move slower than usual, and for a dragoon, this was fatal in combat. A dragoon relies upon thier wit and speed to win a combat, and an unalert body could spell disaster.

He got up, pushing himself off the ground with a gloved hand, leaving his long finger marks within the snow, showing the hints of the grass below the icing of winter snow. His breath formed upon the cold air, and he shivered sligthly. Moving his legs a bit to get them circulated and ready for some kind of encounter, picking up his spear in trepidation, he called again, more sternly.

"Whomever is out there, show thyself and reveal thy intent!"

Gabriel's voice was one of refinement, a voice which was softer than most other mens, yet still held power within it due to that very quality. His voice carried further this time, to whoever lay beyond.

(OOC Anyone can be that figure.)

(OOC Weyr the beastmen have not attacked. This begins at the morning before this event. Read my first post again.)

(I think I'll take that option. Presuming, of course, that nobody else takes it. Upon which this post will be editted into something having to do with that 'scent of human blood' thingy I wrote about earlier. Anyways.)

Kezhri jerked about as he heard a voice. The snow was screwing with his senses, it -had- been a long time. The accent was unfamiliar...how far had he travelled? He didn't know. His right hand tightened about the haft of his pitchfork, and he made his decision.

He would seem to fade out of the forest. Kezhri didn't think that he was a particularly skilled outdoorsman, but the only individual he could have gauged himself against was his Uncle Kel. In truth, he was not only skilled to some extent, but also possessing of an amazing amount of natural talent.

Gray eyes, flecked with yellow, studied the man with the spear. A slight smile creased his face, then, and he spoke.

"'ello there. Just passing through. Something the matter?"

OOC: Post deleted. As far as I understood, you said anywhere....and at the time I used Ravenia's reference to "The scent of human blood." as a cue...anyways....on with the show....but you could've stated OOC-ly that the attack had not happened.....

The lodestone spun, pointed north-south. Leah stared at it, holding the heavy string in a gloved hand, long fingers closed tightly into a fist. Her blue eyes were ready to burn a hole through the rough needle.

"Don't you friggin' do this to me," she muttered. "Too far east, -again-."

The tall evergreen trees seemed to close in on her as she walked, boots crunching the fallen snow. Between the tree trunks and the shadows of the snow-covered branches, she couldn't clearly see more than a few dozen meteres ahead. The grazelands might have been cruel, but on the open fields a girl knew where she stood with the sky and the earth. Amidst the pines it was all earth and no sky -- it felt unnatural, even after a month of travel.

Not for the first time, Leah silently cursed the fates that had conspired to have her go this far from home. At least she was clear of the last town and its gathering of perverts and lechers. The strap of her pack groaned. Leah cursed at it, too, cursing it to hold.

The harness of Sir Ardente's sword was slowly gnawing through her patched leather jerkin. She still thought of it as Sir Ardente's sword, even if the old man was dead and gone. The broadsword was so notched it resembled a saw, but it could cut as well as anything else she had seen. Between her small array of hexes, which had a habit of backfiring, and the sword, she had stayed safe, for the most part.

"Oh, nothing is the matter. Just that few venture within these woods, and animals are far more a common cause of noise in these places so I have found." Gabriel said, relieved.

It was odd that the person was carrying a pitchfork of all things, but then, he did not know if people took the pitchfork as a serious weapon around here. It was hardly the equipement most people take if setting on a journey.

At least, if the trip was intentional.

"Tis a rarity that I see anyone these days. Care to share a moment of conversation? I am Gabriel Astasi, a fledgling dragoon." Gabriel said, his face smiling as he extended his right hand, keeping his spear lowered with his left.

The snow started to fall as Ainagil continued down the path. She pulled the hood over her head and continued on the path. She occasionally heard noises around her. At last, Lossë stopped and started to back up. Ainagil told the horse to keep going but it wouldn't. Then Ainagil heard the noise, too. Somewhere ahead, snow was crunching underneath feet.

"Lossë, who do you think it is?" Ainagil asked her comrade.


OOC: Anyone can take this opening.

Leah caught a glimpse of someone, or something, from between the trunks of pine trees. She halted, stared. It was a horse, and it was white. Not the white of freshly fallen snow, but the eerie white of faerie. The figure astride it.....

"Who's there?" Leah asked, loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to carry far.

The silver-haired girl's right hand shifted slightly, ready to draw her blade. She had no love for faerie beings, for elf and dweomer. Leah doubted someone besides an elf was sitting on the impossibly white horse before her.

OOC: What about Vamps? Or no to that?

Sarlya's teeth chattered as they made thier way along the snow covered trail, her apparel far from appropriate for the weather. "Where the hell are we D?"

"I don't know", replied the armored figure who rode beside her, "do you want to stop for awhile and build a fire?"

"I want someplace warm, this place is terrible."

Dureena looked at Sarlya and her heart leapt into her throat. She had to find someplace and get her inside. They needed warm clothes for her. She pushed on, hoping to find something soon or they would have to stop again and build a fire for her.

Gauge stood behind the shadow of a large tree as the snow fell. The lithe human, dressed in a simple black tunic and jacket, followed a pair of riders in the snow. He carried a massive longbow on his back, which he covered to prevent damaging from the snow, and a pair of long, elegently curved knives which he had stolen from the elves. He also had a long polearm at his side, something like a pole with two long sword blades at the end, a staff-sword of sorts. It was his current weapon of choice. He was obviously either a thief or some rouge of that nature. He hid himself in shadows as he followed the riders.

Gauge could sense that he and the riders were not the only ones around; he could practically smell others in the area. He kept a firm grip on his staff-sword as he moved forward again in the snow to keep up with the riders, who might become potential prey.

The mailed rider stops as she looks over at her companion. Her armor is masterwork banded mail and as she gets down from the horse and turns one can see the holy symbol of Torm emblazoned on her chest, the right handed gauntlet held palm outward. She reaches up with her gauntleted hands and removed the open face helm, her shield, slung on her back shifted. The symbol on the shield, a glowing hand held palm outward blocking a sword, is not recognizable. The helm remove and the chain mail drawn back reveals golden/silver her that glints in the sunlight. Her eyes are golden brown and look at her companion worriedly. There's a long sword on her right hip and a heavy flail pushed through her belt on her left hip. She has the beautiful face of an elf and the ears of the self same race. "Here, this should help for a little while", she says to her companion in elven and removes her gauntlets, placing her hands on the womans stomach and back and uttering a prayer. Instantly the woman looks better and smiles down at the armored woman who puts her gauntlets and helm back on and remounts her heavy warhorse.

The woman on the light warhorse appears to be half-elven. She has waist length light brown hair that is very fine and seems to float about her as she moves. Her eyes are dark blue with light green around the iris. The skin glistens in the sun with a rich coppery tan as though constantly in the outdoors. She has a shapely figure and the mixture of human and elven blood gives her stunning good looks an exotic quality. She wears a small leather vest and a short leather skirt that's split up both sides for ease of movement, leaving most of her flesh exposed. On her left arm is an archers brace and an archers glove is worn on her right hand. Leather boots reach up to just below her knees. Around her neck is a platinum chain. On her right hip is a slim elven rapier and on her right is a slim elven longsword. An elven crafted longbow is on her back over two quivers of arrows and two more quivers hang from her belt on each hip under the scabbards. Both have saddle, saddle bags, saddle blankets and bit and bridles. "Thanks, D", she says in elven as the woman mounts her horse again and they proceed. As they move again she looks behind her, scanning the trees.

Gauge paused as the larger figure takes off his helm, or rather, as he found out a second later, her helm. It was an elf. Elves were a race that Gauge found both strange and mysterious at the same time. He observed the armored elf say something to the other figure, who also looked elvish, and put her gauntlets back on. They started to head out again, but then......

*Snap! Wump!*

Gauge had just ran into a large, half dead tree from which a long branch had snapped off. He cursed himself for being so clumsy. It was an impossible sound to not notice, but would the elves investigate the loud crash?

The armored woman wheeled the heavy warhorse around and began to charge in the direction of the sound, drawing her longsword and removing her shield as she did so. The half-elven woman slid from her saddle, bow readied and arrow knocked even as she hit the ground at run, her reflexes amazing fast. She moved forward and around until gauge was in sight and then let loose her arrow and then another. The arrows impacts inches from his head on either side, "The second was to let you know that first one was an intentional miss, the third won't." The armored woman reigned in and slid off her saddle, her stance at the ready. She said something in elven and face Gauge squarely.

Gauge froze as the arrows impacted inches from his head. The smaller women was an exellant shot, mabey even better than himself! He turned to face the armored elf and spun his Sword-Staff. He doubted that he could defeat the elf in combat; after all, he was not armored and she was. Gauge decided to take a more peacful stance on the matter.

"Please, I meant you no harm! I am just a weary traveler who.....Aw, screw it. I'm a rouge who was planning to possibly steal some of your items and/or weapons. But i beg of you, let me go in peace and i swear on my honor that i will not harm you or anyone else in the area for a long while."

The woman said something in elvish again, sounding the same as last time. The barely dressed elvin archeress said something in elven and the armored woman nodded in her direction. The archeress, bow ready and arrow knocked approached. "I'm afraid the D doesn't understand or speak common. I ahh, neglected .... to mention the rouge part of your statement. Such wouldn't go over well with her. She's a holy knight. I'm Sarlya Amaranth and this is Dureena Nafeel, we've traveled with a rouge before so I've no problem with it. D, well, we didn't mention his profession, we told her he was expert in security and found him useful to have around", she said grinning. "Who do work for? Or what guild?"

Khezri shook the dragoon's hand, firmly. "Ah, yes. Well, suffice to say that I'm more dangerous to the animals than they are to me."

He pondered for a few moments. "I'm Khezri. Khezri Kalistan. I'm a Ranger."

He was certainly more of a Ranger then he was anything else. In truth, he was effectively a Journeyman Caraen Ranger. He was an incredibly talented boy, with incredible innate abilities.

His Uncle Kel had seen this, and given him the training to make proper use of them. He lacked the trappings of the position, of course. The horse bow, sword, breastplate, and padded chain, and in truth, given those trappings, he would have been a force to reckon with.

As it was, the pitchfork, hunting bow, and the Caraen Longknife would have to do for him.

Now, as to this 'Caraen' bit. Caraen Rangers are a group of incredibly skilled wandering vigilantes. More or less. Y'know, set about righting wrongs and such forth.

Khezri's Uncle Kel was the foremost Ranger still in the field. So, yes, it was no particular wonder that Khezri didn't think much of himself, if he was judging himself by the best of an organization that consisted of the very, very best.

"That explains your presance here, althought the village does not enjoy having rangers in thier woods. They frown on the practice for some reason...that is my destination if you had not guessed, but I am having little sucess in finding the place." Gabriel said slowly, looking around at the forest's tall pine.

The wind picked up slightly, blowing coldly into Gabriel's fine features, his long blonde hair taking up flight slightly, his chain mail dancing a little too. He shivered and picked up the fur robe which was lying upon the floor, fastening it onto himself as he spoke.

"I don't suppose you know where the village is? I forget it's name, and this place is maddening. I don't know where left or right is, I swear these woods are arcane in nature. I hear there are such things, woods which drive you to leave the exact way you came in. Can you help me, being a ranger and all? Or are you too busy?", The dragoon asked politely. In all honesty, the Dragoon really needed this assistance, due to his ineptidue with navigation, although the woods to all was confusing. Possibly due to the intense snow, the cold winds or the tall dizzying pines which spiraled around the travelers.

(OOC I think this is enough characters for the moment. This roleplay will now be closed until we need more characters. And I would have said no to vampires, vampire tend to be be melodramatic and focus the entire rp upon them. It is a sad fact, and I know that some people can rp them well into a story (I don't know if I can, but I doubt it).)

"I am Ainagil. I mean to cause you no harm. If I breach your borders, I will surely retreat." said Ainagil, with a slight accent. She could speak common language fluently.

"May I ask, who are you?"

"I'm called Leah," the girl responded, "These aren't my lands. But if you're heading north, then, perhaps we could travel together," she offered tentatively.

"I am heading no direction in particular, but I shall go North. Maybe our paths were meant to cross. I am in desperate need of allies." Ainagil was sometimes over-trusting, especially in situations she felt desperate. Ainagil was by no means brave, but she was cunning and smart. She could easily outsmart any opponent, but her pureness sometimes got in her way.

"Leah, this is Lossë." said the elven princess as she jumped of her luminescent horse. She stepped toward the girl. "I must tell you, I am of the elven race. I do hope there are no qualms between us because of this fact." Ainagil had faced prejudice before outside of her father's kingdom before and wanted to make sure this girl had no prejudices against her.

"Well, that was easy!" Thought Gauge silently. "Little do they know that i have no more Honor to Swear Upon! Ah well, at least i gained a valuble pair of shields, Er, Traveling Cohorts."

"The name's Gauge Seras, Thief and Rouge extrodinare!" He said, rather dramaticly. "I usally work for the Cremian de Lyes thieving guild, but i do much of my work myself. I differ from your usual thief; I study my victims before i rob them."

He paused to take a breath.

"Well, glad to meet both of you! Where are you headed?"

You're not one of the b4st4rds from the Hill, that much is certain, Leah thought, with not a small touch of bitterness. They were the reason she was here, the stormwardens and firelords of the Hill.

"Lossë," Leah inclined her head in greeting. Her brothers had treated their horses like kin, so maybe it was the same with these elves. "How can there be qualms? We've only just met," Leah smiled faintly. "But we should get going, while the sun is high...What d'you need allies for?" she asked, intrigued. If I could see the sun through these trees......

Sarlya eyed him warily, the iron thorn could be cunning when they wanted though they favored force. "Well your welcome to travel with us as long as you don't try anything. I'll warn you in advance .... I aim for the groin, I find it far more effective than almost anyplace else." She looked at the two arrows meaningfully then looked at Dureena and nodded. Dureena retired her sword and wore her shield then got back on the heavy warhorse while Sarlya put away her bow and arrow and got onto her light warhorse. "Where we are going is a good question, I'm afraid we're lost. Do you know the area?"

Khezri nodded absently. "Can't say that I know exactly what village you're talking about. Like I said, I was just passing through. Heading to...Carae. Long ways away. But...I suspect I can find this village."

He began to work, pacing about the small clearing in circles. His sense of smell was highly developed, and he began to detect faint hints of humanity in the distance...among...other things.

"Any particular reason you want to find this village, friend?"

"I need the energy of someone. My magic is fading and I am desperate. Besides, I have never been alone for more than a day." said Ainagil with a slight chuckle. She was glad to see that this girl was at least tolerating of the elven race. Some of her brothers would say that Ainagil was shaming her family by speaking with the inferior race of man. But in Ainagil's way of sight, man was no more inferior to the elf, than the street dog was to Lossë. Her mother prided in his daughters views, while her father tried to ignore them. He even went was far as to stop her from protesting the teaching of the "inferior race" in school. Elves, in Ainagil's opinion, were somewhat of snobs, thinking they are better than all the other races of intelligent beings.

"I must tell you, Lossë and I speak to each other in Elvish, or I talk to her rather. Do you speak any Elvish, Leah?" asked Ainagil as she petted her horse.

Gauge rubbed his head rather sheepishly.

"You know, I dont really know where we are. I got caught up in the snow. Once the stars come out, i may be able to navigate us to a town or something, but I dont have any general idea of the area."

He tilted his head and thought, then sighed.

"Well, I suppose we can either settle down for the night or just keep on walking. The desicion is up to you."

"Once the stars come out I can navigate on my own, but that doesn't help us find a place to stay. D needs rest and pray. We'll keep moving if you want to come with us."

"I need the energy of someone. My magic is fading and I am desperate. Besides, I have never been alone for more than a day." said Ainagil with a slight chuckle. She was glad to see that this girl was at least tolerating of the elven race. Some of her brothers would say that Ainagil was shaming her family by speaking with the inferior race of man. But in Ainagil's way of sight, man was no more inferior to the elf, than the street dog was to Lossë. Her mother prided in his daughters views, while her father tried to ignore them. He even went was far as to stop her from protesting the teaching of the "inferior race" in school. Elves, in Ainagil's opinion, were somewhat of snobs, thinking they are better than all the other races of intelligent beings.

"I must tell you, Lossë and I speak to each other in Elvish, or I talk to her rather. Do you speak any Elvish, Leah?" asked Ainagil as she petted her horse.

Yes: 'the privy's that way', and 'frig you,' Leah did not say. "Energy of someone?" her blue eyes narrowed. "As in life energy?"

"Once the stars come out I can navigate on my own, but that doesn't help us find a place to stay. D needs rest and pray. We'll keep moving if you want to come with us."

"Well, i dont really have anything better to do, so on we go!"

"In a way, my clan of elves, we feed off people's energy. It would never hurt you, in anyway. But being in the presence of someone strengthens us. Alone we are defenseless, together we are strong. The life force of beings is a powerful force. And we try to tap into that force. Without the force we are weak. In Elvish it is called bragol thalion." Ainagil wasn't sure if Leah could understand. She had trouble understanding it herself sometimes. Even though she tries. It is much easier to explain in Elvish, she thougt, or better yet, Elves.

Sarlya nodded to Dureena who began to lead them down the trail. She kept an eye and ear out as she rode, and her hand never strayed to far from her bow.

"Well, mainly for shelter do I go to this village, to resupply and get my own bearings again. I am at a loss on what to do, where I stand within my own personal training of the art of the Dragoon...perhaps there will be another Dragoon whcih I can converse to...which I can discuss how I can still train since-" Gabriel said, recalling events which were hardly pleasant.

He coughed and looked as if he had made a mistake. He had in a way, the mistake of telling something about his past to this person.

"My apologies, I prattle. Will you help me to this village? You look like you could do with a rest in a tavern or something of the like." Gabriel said, looking at the ranger. He was not familar with the ways of rangers, but he knew as soon as he said what he just did that it would be declined most proberbly.

"I would feel bad nothing giving anything in return freind for your assistance." Gabriel said with a smile, and reajusted his backback upon his shoulders, to make it more comfortable upon his slender frame.

"In a way, my clan of elves, we feed off people's energy. It would never hurt you, in anyway. But being in the presence of someone strengthens us. Alone we are defenseless, together we are strong. The life force of beings is a powerful force. And we try to tap into that force. Without the force we are weak. In Elvish it is called bragol thalion." Ainagil wasn't sure if Leah could understand. She had trouble understanding it herself sometimes. Even though she tries. It is much easier to explain in Elvish, she thougt, or better yet, Elves.

"Alright," Leah nodded slowly, mulling over the words. "If you say so. Let's go, then?" Maybe she could trust her, maybe not. How the frig can you leech without hurting? She adjusted the straps of her battered pack, and resumed her slow pace north and slightly west.

Khezri nodded faintly, "Oh, aye, friend. I suspect I could use a tavern, at that. Let's see what I can do."

He continued his circling for a few more moments, then ended up facing a certain direction.

"Something tells me your village is over thisaways. Maybe less than an hours hike. Maybe more. I can't tell. The telltales are rather faint, but then again, that is also a rather distinctive clue as to the concentration."

He smiled lopsidedly. "'n don't worry about the payment. If this village of yours has a market for furs, then I should be just fine."

"Heh. Quite the collector you seem.", Gabriel said with that innocent smile of his, looking at the bag full of fur.

"Did you want to make a move now? I don't see any reason why not...it is only mid-day, and I think the village is only an hours journey...but then again, I could be wrong..."


(OOC The village will take around an hour and a half to get to, and it is around 1pm at the moment. The attack, just for context, occours at midnight, so we have around 12 hours until the imiminant attack. Can you say when you are moving towards the village, so then I can introduce the village and all move along some time. Thanks.)

Another hour or so passed as they moved along the trail until finally the trees began to thin. Sarlya pointed and spoke in elven out of habit.

Dureena replied in elvish.

Sarlya looked at Dureena and said something in elvish, grinning, then looked back at Gauge and in common said, "Smoke ahead, chimney fires. The village is close."

Ainagil was somewhat stunned by Leah's crudeness. Elves were not so brief, in Ainagil's opinion. As Leah started off to the North, Ainagil jumped onto Lossë.

"Follow the girl!" she told her faithful companion in Elvish. Lossë slowly galloped until she reached Leah, then she slowed down to a trot.

"So what's North?" asked Ainagil.

"A village, a place to stop, maybe some little job," Leah replied. "So what's an elf doing in these parts?"

A little TAG for a good read... YEAH!

"And stay out you crazy religous bastard!"

The Raven Wing Tavern wooden door slammed shut, giving the impression to Rolf, who was lying in the mud right now reflecting on events past, that he was not wanted here. Sure, Rolf muttered inwardly, as soon as someone starts standing on tables to get everyone attention about thier imending doom, everyone does not like you anymore.

What Rolf did not take into consideration, was that he did the same thing almost every week. He would see some destruction of some sort befouling the village, and Rolf would do his damnedest to try and get the message across. Rolf, his message once again, rejected, as per normal, decided to do what he always did.

Be ready with his flail.

Rolf was an aging man, his frame was worn from both time and rough experiance. He had that deranged look about him, as if he had come down from the moon to have a pleasant chat. His beard was extremely wirey and graying in many places, from his original colour of black. One of his eyes was bigger than the other by a little bit, and upon his skin was a patchwork of other people's clothes, torn in many places.

And a rusting flail did hang by his side, a mammoth of a weapon which everyone had no idea if Rolf could actually use in combat. Most thought that if an attack did occour, he would still be trying to lift the damned weapon.

He gritted what yellow teeth had yet, and with a mad grin got up and began to patrol the town with insane vigour, warning all those who came within twenty feet of him.

Most villagers steered clear of Rolf all together, because he had the uncanny ability to attract various events of bad luck. Everyone remembered when the church was being built, and Rolf distracted on of the builders, who did not know the warnings about him, and sent most of the scaffolding down as a result.

Rolf blamed it on the imending doom that was coming towards them.

But, the boy crying wolf would be facing the teeth very soon, although Rolf was doing what he did with an altrustic spirit which in might and zeal could be matched with great heros.

He just did not go about his heroic nature in the right way unfortunately.

The snow continued to fall and the little village continued as it always did.

The village was rather small, surronded by the woods which the people made thier living off, by felling the woods to grant them the lumber which they traded. People hunted in the woods, most of them living within this place all thier life, and used to the wood's mysterous ways. Even so, many people still went missing during the dead of night, never heard of again.

Currently, there were an unusual number of strangers coming to this village, and they would play thier parts in defending this village against the evil which would storm it.

Current time: 3.06pm
Time left: 8 hours and 54 minutes.

As they entered the village Sarlya looked around and wrinkled her nose in distaste. 'No well furnished rooms or long hot bathes here', she thought. A glance up a side street revealed a beleaguered looking man with a flail and she hoped that he would at least leave them alone.

Dureena rode on, heedless of the man on the next street, scanning the signs and not understanding any of them. She looked back at Sarlya questioningly and asked her something in elven. Sarlya looked up at the signs as they rode and pointed to one, the sign of the Raven Wing Tavern. Dureena nodded, guiding her horse to the place and dismounted. Sarlya followed suit and together they gathered thier things from thier horses and headed in.

Gauge paused as he saw an old man hefting a mace in the middle of the street as him and the two elves entered the town. Gauge wondered how much gold the old timer had on him. He looked like a promising target, bet even Gauge had morals; he rarely robbed the old and never the poor.

"Ah, this is more to my likeing than a snow storm." Said Gauge as the trio headed into the Tavern. "Nothing like a beer to warm up the fingers in the snow."

As they walked in, Gauge tossed a gold coin to the bartender and picked up a beer.

"So," He said, looking at Sarlya, "What should we do now? I'm all for staying at the tavern and resting for a day or two, but you two can do whatever you want."

Sarlya glanced at Dureena who ordered a common meal, mostly fruit and vegetables, and water. Sarlya ordered an expensive meal, testing everything the village had to offer and chose the best house wine, rather than risk ordering an elven wine. She shrugged and looked at Gauge, "I don't know to be honest. Dureena's a Holy Knight and her church had asked her to investigate some raidings. They were kobalds, but it turned out that they were being controlled by the Iron Thorn, a criminal orginization. The church wasn't able to protect us when we interfered in the Iron Rings dealings and we had to flee. I don't know where we are or where we're going, neither of us do."

The tavern itself was a warm and inviting place, where everyone, well almost everyone, was welcome. The great fireplace glowed with it's own warm light and warmth, the best seats in the house being around that very spot. Winter weather was common in these parts, and everyone had thier own little spots.

There were few people worthy of note on view at the moment, apart from a half-elf who stood out from the crowd in more ways than one. There were no other elves or half-elves who lived here, not that the villagers care for that minor detail. And also, he was the few people within this place who could fight properlly, for he used to be a warrior, or so people said. Few had seen him actually fight, for he had rarely been called upon.

He had the usual elven shaped eyes but one was strangely green and the other a light blue. His features were well formed, and his form was elegent and slender. He was hardly pampered however, and did have some upper and lower body strength to him, which was evident when someone looked hard enough.

The barkeep was a freindly man, a man who was pretty leniant and let almost anyone within his tavern. A quiet shy man, who prefered to deal with coin than people. An ill placed job inherited from his father, but Solk did not really have a choice in the matter, he could not do much else now.


Entering the village with his new found partner, Khezri , the fledgling Dragoon entered the village much the same time as the others did, but neither group of travellers were aware of each other yet.

Gabriel looked upon the village with some comfort that he would not have to sleep on the ground this night, and risk some kind of attack.

Gabriel was not used to the idea of pick pockets yet.

Before they took another step towards wherever they wanted to go, not that they had even decided, a strange man approached, cradling a flail within his frail arms.

"Kep ye weapans cles laddies![/i] Teh beastmen await with teat awai'n! Can' ye not see em? [b]Can' ye nay see em!" Rolf exlaimed his voice becoming hoarse when he cried out, as if portraying a legend to a child. His voice was something what we would call Scottish, and his movements were wild and grand indeed.

A passing villager, a man carrying a few logs within a cart, said absant mindedly, "Don't listen to him, he always does that."

Gabriel said nothing, still trying to work out what the man had just said, before stepping back before one of Rolf's wild movements almost took his head off with his hand which was protraying one of the monster's huge axe.

Dureena removed her open face helm and pulled the hooded chain undershirt down from her head, then removed her gauntlets and padding from her hands and set them all beside her. She ran a hand through the fairly short golden silver hair and looked around the room. Her eyes stopped on the half-elf, making a lightning fast, fighters, evaluation then continued on and finally rested on her meal as she began to eat.

Sarlya did much the same, surveying the room. However, she also looked for potential magic users. She had been born to magic, handed down from her mother, though she was a sorceress of only minor power. She had begun training in the ways of the ranger, her training completed by Verlinda, who had split off from she and Dureena in order to try to split the forces of the Iron Thorn who might try to pursue. Her magic did help her with her bow, it gave her a limited foresight to know where the opponent would be in a few seconds, much like the natural talent of the wild elf archers of the Silent leaf. She, too, stopped on the half-elf though her evaluation had far less to do with combat assessment and focused much more on looks and physique. Smiling she went back to her meal. 'Well', she muttered in elven, 'things are looking up.'

Dureena looked up at Sarlya then back at the half-elven male and rolled her eyes. 'Do you ever STOP thinking about that?' she replied in elven.

'Such beautiful men and women', Sarlya replied in elven, 'and I travel with one. Shame you have a vow of chastity', she said and winked.

"I have.." Dureena stopped and lower her voice, a pleasant voice that carried the musical quility of the elven language with the lineage from which it came, 'I have no such vow, but it doesn't occupy my thoughts.'

'No such vow?' Sarlya eyed Dureena, 'Really.'

Dureena's level gaze made it clear that this conversation was at an end and Sarlya knew better than to pursue topics that Dureena didn't like. Not that the Holy Knight would do harm to her, but she wouldn't talk to her for days which was even more painful coming from her best friend. Sarlya looked back at the half-elven man again then turned back to her food, 'Well it certainly occupies my thoughts', she said, then continued eating.

"Uh, well, it's a long and complicated story, to say the least. But more over, I am very ashamed of it, and the consequences I have choosen. I have no more honor to my name." Said Ainagil as she lifted her head high. She really wanted to break down and tell leah what she had done, but she thought that would dishonor her even further.

"Ah," Leah replied, saying nothing more. She walked thinking over what the elf had said. The silver-haired girl shuddered, a slight motion barely perceptable beneath her loose clothing. If only... "Is that smoke?" she asked suddenly, after a time, tripped, and went sprawling into the snow. "Dammit."

"Leah! Are you alright!" shouted the raven-haired elf. She jumped off Lossë and helped Leah up.

"You spoke of smoke, and surely that is smoke over the horizon. Is that to be our destination?" questioned Ainagil.

"Yeah, thanks," Leah replied, "I'm fine," clambering back to her feet, accepting Ainagil help, cursing herself inwardly for her clumsiness. Had the girl's pack been heavier, the action would have required a good deal more effort. She shook the wet, heavy snow off her clothes. "Looks like it."

Kezrhi peered around the village with some distaste. It was the feeling of vulnerability, which wasn't something he was particularly used to. Now, mind you, this wasn't because he was used to the outdoors. It was because he was used to capable individuals.

Almost all of the individuals he had known and respected, his father, his mother, his uncle, his uncle's friends, the people in the town near the farm...every single one of them was, in their own way, capable.

His father had been a soldier before he met Kezhri's mother and settled down on the farm. And his mother...his beautiful, exotic mother. Met a soldier from a far-away land, fell in love, left with him and never looked back. That didn't mean that she left her past entirely behind. It was age and stiff joints that killed the woman who had been Swordsmaster to her king, not lack of skill.

And, of course, Uncle Kel. Uncle Kel put them all to shame. He had been the only thing that had kept Kezhri moving forward those long months. Uncle Kel. Those two words floated at the core of Kezhri's being, his goal. If he could only find Uncle Kel, everything would be alright.

However, if there was one thing that Kezhri had learned from his Uncle Kel, it was that while planning the future was essential, one must not do so to the exclusion of awareness of the present. Because then, you miss things. One of those things might be a threat, and, to quote Uncle Kel, "The threat that you don't see, is the one that will kill you."

Thus, even while he was thinking deep thoughts, Kezhri had his senses turned on. Having completed his train of thought, the youth who called himself a ranger returned to the present, and if he looked about like any other farm-boy coming to town to sell some goods, which he did, he was aware of much, much more.

Now, knowing that, it doesn't require a whole lot of pondering to make the short hop to the fact that Kezhri was slightly paranoid. It was a trait shared by a good number of Rangers. (Note the capital. For the moment, let it suffice that when I say that Kezhri is a Ranger, I don't mean that he's a simple forest-guide or woodsman. All will be revealed in time.)

Like Gabriel, it would take a bit of thought for Kezhri to pierce the old man's accent. However, he did not need to understand the words, it was the tone of voice that set him fully on edge.

It wasn't particularly noticeable, the slight shift in stance, the tensing of a few muscles, the thumb of his right hand hooking into his belt...little things. Things that would have been almost entirely unnoticeable, even without the loose clothing and worn leather cloak that was just a bit too big for him.

But that was how Kezhri was. Another man might check to see if his blade was loose in its sheath, Kezhri hooked his thumb into his belt. His Uncle's influence, of course.

He shot a glance at Gabriel, to gauge the other man's reaction. The villager's comment altered not his thought patterns, which currently consisted mostly of planning paths of retreat, firing positions, and so forth. He was, however, curious to see how that particular comment affected Gabriel's thoughts on the situation.

"Well, my friend? Thoughts, comments, opinions...changes in plan?"

Gauge frowned as Sarlya mentioned the Iron Thorn.

"The Iron Thorn, eh? I've heard of them. Dont worry, I tend to stay away from mob groups."

Another lie. Of course he had heard of the Iron Thorn group, and the power they wielded; While he had never had any dealings with the orginization, the Cremian de Lyes guild was involved heavily with them. Gauge had even been approached several times by Iron Thorn agents and offered Jobs, but he had always declined them. Gauge wasn't sure if he was in or out of favor with the group. Gauge was slightly worried about the Iron Thorn being anywhere near him.

Gauge put the Iron Thorn in the back of his mind and noticed Sarlya eyeing an attractive elf, or mabey a half-elf. He did not say anything about it, but Gauge could of sworn that Sarlya was checking out the goods on the guy. Ah well, at least he might have some gold to steal.

Both Sarlya and Dureena looked at Gauge as he mentioned he had heard of them. Even Dureena who didn't know common knew the organization's name in the common tongue. She then looked at Sarlya who was still eyeing Gauge though she looked very tired. "Then you might be one of them. None of them will admit to who they are unless they have numbers or until they have thier dagger in your back."

Dureena looked at Sarlya more closely as her fatigue began to show and a look of worry crossed her face, her expression saddening. She said something to Sarlya in elven and the archeress sighed and nodded, now looking even more tired than before. Dureena began gathering her things as Sarlya turned toward the barkeep, "Do you know where we can get a room? One room two beds. One large bed will do if not."

The city was a disasterous place. Trash piled up on the sides of the road, chickens running thtough the streets, and all of this was inhabited by humans. Ainagil was disgusted, thinking that the woods were cleaner than this city.

Ainagil had never been to a human city. She had stayed at her father's magnificent palace most of the time. She hadn't ever ventured out into the city beyond the palace walls, though she doubted her father would let her. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered why her father had even sent her on this mission. She didn't know her way around the country, and she sure wasn't the bravest person. It all confused her, maybe her father didn't want her to come back! She couldn't stop thinking about that possibility.

"What shall we do now?" she asked.

"Ummm...." Leah thought, looking around. It was...a village. Smaller than Faire, much smaller, but Leah had yet to find a place the size of her home city on the plains to the south of here. She wasn't sure how far she had traveled, except that it was rather far, but every town seemed smaller and more squalid than the previous one to Leah, and this one managed to outdo them all.

The snow continued to fall and the little village continued as it always did.

The village was rather small, surronded by the woods which the people made thier living off, by felling the woods to grant them the lumber which they traded. People hunted in the woods, most of them living within this place all thier life, and used to the wood's mysterous ways. Even so, many people still went missing during the dead of night, never heard of again.

Currently, there were an unusual number of strangers coming to this village, and they would play thier parts in defending this village against the evil which would storm it.

"Kep ye weapans cles laddies![/i] Teh beastmen await with teat awai'n! Can' ye not see em? [b]Can' ye nay see em!" Rolf exlaimed his voice becoming hoarse when he cried out, as if portraying a legend to a child. His voice was something what we would call Scottish, and his movements were wild and grand indeed.

"I think....that's a tavern," the silver-haired girl pointed at the Raven Wing Tavern from a little wasy down the street. She could read, but the dialect here was rather different from what she was used to. "Maybe they have lodgings, and anyway, we can find out what's going on around here." Spirits know I don't like the sounds of that old fart. she thought to herself, hearing the old man shout something about the end of the world to a pair of.....kids wasn't the right word, not when both of them were at least as old as she. It didn't matter.

The barkeep regarded the two female elves with a broad smile of mirth. It was rare that he had such fine people within his tavern, and he knew that someone in this tavern certainly missed elven company, and that half-elf was sitting rather quietly in the corner.

"Well, this tavern has a number of rooms available. You see, we do not get too many visitors here, so there almost always is a room, luckily for you. Yes, we have a rather lovely room with two beds in. It is just up the stairs, to third on your left. Number five. I am sure you will find it most comfortable. That will only be three gold pieces for the both of you, which includes breakfast if you require." The barkeep said with another display of his white teeth, and a passing of the rather large key.

The room when the two would go up there would be most comfortable. Not too large, not too small. It was warm, and the beds were well made and practical. The blankets were thick to ward away the cold of the night, and the room was rather pleasant to be in. It had a jar of flowers which were replaced every day. This room was one of the better rooms in this tavern, and the barkeep deliberately gave these two fine elven women them because he did like elves within his tavern. They rarely caused a fuss, and they were prompt and tidy.

The half elf who was sat in the corner, in his usual place, observed the exchange between the barkeep and the two elves. It had been a long time since he had laid eyes upon elves. He knew that the Barkeep, Otto, had not realised that one of them was like himself, half elven. Not that it would matter to Otto, but it mattered to him. It was rare that he founds someone of his own blood.

He drained the rest of his humanic beer, the fiery liquid warming his throat as it slid down and got up to walk over to the two females, when another group entered the room, two human men who looked they certainly needed the tavern more than he did.

---

Gabriel said nothing for the moment, thinking about how to consider the man's rather wild speech. His eyes were still bearing into him, that kind of gold digger look when he was about to recruit another band of vagabonds to help him out. Before Gabriel was about to reply, without reason, Rolf, flail in hand, charged off, almost barging into Gabriel.

The fledging Dragoon however, nimbly took a step backwards, avoiding the rampaging mad man. He seemed to be possessed by a demon, his movements were beyond his bodies capabilities, he moved so damn fast! He was charging out of the town, and towards to the forest for some reason.

"Well, that certainly was odd, no?" Gabriel said to Kezrhi with an odd smile and frown. It was one more of bemusement and puzzlement than concern.

He shrugged and turned towards the tavern which some amount of noise was coming from now, a mighty uproar of concern. Not that Gabriel could have heard it, but one of the windows had just been smashed by a bleached skull.

"Come on, lets get inside. I am bitterly cold and I have not had decent food in such a long time. I will get you something as my sign of thanks." Gabriel said, smiling as he walked towards the Raven's Wing.

Gabriel opened the door and was greeting by the warmth of the tavern. He looked at the people within the place, and smiled a little more. It was comforting to know that the people were not exactly the hard winter people that expected, although a lot of them did look they could cause some damage in a bar fight. Many were lumberjacks, and this granted them great strapping bodies and hands which often locked with other hands in a test of strength.

"Well this looks rather a nice place to stay, doesn't it Kezrhi? Did you want to sell your skins now or later? Or did you want a drink before?" Gabriel said to his Ranger friend, the door still being occupied by the two of them. The cold wind and snow was coming in, much to the discomfort of the people within the tavern.

---

"Hello there, it's rare that we people of this lonely village get strangers, and strangers of your fine nature indeed. I am Amras, Amras Tulcakelumë, but most of these people mostly call me Adam because they cannot pronounce it." Amras said in elven, with a smile and an extending from his half-elven hand to the two elven women who were sat. His voice was quite harmonic and well flowing, as most elves were. Evidently, his time with the humans had not blunted his elven ways of speaking, although his elvish was not the finest it could be.

He seemed rather charming and rather attractive by most standards. One of his eyes was blue and the other was green, giving a rather an unusual flavor to his face. His hair was very short, a deep brown colour which was not common within elves. It was obvious to any elf that he was half-elven due to his ears being not completely pointed, and his eyes being less slanted as they should be.

"What brings you here to this lonely village of woodcutters and escapists?" Amras asked pleasantly, still smiling.

Kezhri shrugged, his right hand not straying from its position, thumb looped into the belt, fingers huggin the hip. It didn't -look- like he was ready to draw his knife and gig somebody...but appearances could be deceiving.

"Whatever you prefer," he said with a smile, as he nudged his companion into the tavern and away from the door, allowing it to swing shut. He then reached up with his left hand, drawing back the hood of his cloak.

Steel-gray eyes danced about the tavern, analyzing those within, calculating fire lanes and escape routes. His priorities might be considered odd to most people, but Kezhri Kalistan was not most people.

It would be at this point that, having finished his survey of the tavern, Kezhri would turn a calculating glance upon Gabriel. "Let's get something in our bellies, first. I don't know about you, but I don't barter too well on an empty stomach."

"Agreed." Gabriel said, nodding as he did so. He walked up to the barkeep and sat himself down, some seats away from the two elves and the half-elf which had just seated himself by them. Proberbly trying to chat them up, Gabriel thought in disgust. The actual truth of things were rather different from Gabriel's first impression, Amras (or Adam depending on who was talking to him) was in fact just wanting some elven company, to talk of things which he missed, and to catch up on things on his homeland if possible.

He awaited for the barkeep to attend him and his Ranger freind, and he came over, his usual smile firmly planted upon his chubby rosy cheeked face.

"What can I do for you two then?" He said pleasantly, although notably less pleasantly than when he had spoken to the two elves.

"Well, something warm to eat. What have you got?"

The ranger and the novice dragoon ordered what they wanted from the very limited list of soups, meats and breads, and spiced potatoes, the dragoon picking chicken soup. It was handed to him in a deep wooden bowl which screamed humility, with some clumps of bread scattered on the plate beneath the bowl.

Gabriel began to eat his food hungrily, fully realising how hungry he was. He listened to the noises and conversations of the place, no less the conversation between the group of elves with the half-elf...

"Hello there, it's rare that we people of this lonely village get strangers, and strangers of your fine nature indeed. I am Amras, Amras Tulcakelumë, but most of these people mostly call me Adam because they cannot pronounce it." Amras said in elven, with a smile and an extending from his half-elven hand to the two elven women who were sat. His voice was quite harmonic and well flowing, as most elves were. Evidently, his time with the humans had not blunted his elven ways of speaking, although his elvish was not the finest it could be.

He seemed rather charming and rather attractive by most standards. One of his eyes was blue and the other was green, giving a rather an unusual flavor to his face. His hair was very short, a deep brown colour which was not common within elves. It was obvious to any elf that he was half-elven due to his ears being not completely pointed, and his eyes being less slanted as they should be.

"What brings you here to this lonely village of woodcutters and escapists?" Amras asked pleasantly, still smiling.

-----

Steel-gray eyes danced about the tavern, analyzing those within, calculating fire lanes and escape routes. His priorities might be considered odd to most people, but Kezhri Kalistan was not most people.

----

"Greetings", Dureena said in flowing elven. Her elven is better than Amras, more flowing and musical. In fact she loved to sing and was very good at it, making her voice in the elven tongue that much more enchanting even to those who didn't understand the language. "My name is Dureena Nafeel and this is Sarlya Amaranth. Well met, cousin, it's been a long time since we've heard or seen elves other than ourselves."

As Kezhri and his companion entered the bar Dureena's eyes shifted to them and she eyed Kezhri particularly as his experianced eyes rolled over the room. She and Sarlya had taken a seat where thier backs were to the wall and they could see all entrances and exits. When Dureena turned her attention to the newcomers, her eyes taken them in with the experiance of a veteran Sarlya took up the conversation with Amras.

Sarlya's elven was better than Amras as well, though not as good as Dureena's. "Well, we've come a long way, and we're not sure where we are. If you could provide us with some insight as to just where we are that would be wonderful", she said and flashed him a brilliant smile. Sarlya is well versed in elven as well as the common tongue of men, unlike Dureena who knows only elven, and keeps an ear out for interesting conversations as she speaks. Her language repertoire also includes dwarven and gnome as well as orcish and kobald. She learned kobald because it was an amusing tongue being all yips and yaps, but the orcish tongue she disliked because the gutteral language tended to hurt her throat if spoken to long.

Amras reflected Sarlya's smile with his own, less than brilliant smile. His teeth were exactly the whitest of whites, ones which were hardly prestine, but better than most.

"Well, your certainly a way up north. If you carried on up from this place, you get to the mighty mountains of Relia, and that place has quite the number of slumbering creatures who don't particulary like visitors, along with the intense cold. I went up there once, for around a week to train. That was around...seven years ago. I was pretty sucessful too, until that white dragon turned up. Then, I knew I had to get out of there prettily hastily." Amras remembered with something of a wince, as he remembered when he jumped out of the way of it's massive tail and fell down the mountain.

"I mean, I can handle myself, I am a Rieth Dragoon afterall...not that would mean much to you...The Dragoon order, are, unfortunately are a dying order of combat, a sad detail indeed....but anyways, I certainly was not going to try and defeat a white dragon! The mountains do not yeild much anyways, and beyond it is another kingdom which I forget. You can buy maps around this place anyways, and I am hardly knowledgable on these parts. ONly been living here for a couple of months, returned after some wandering."

While this conversation was occouring, Gabriel heard the words "Rieth Dragoon" which certainly did attract his attention. Those words were not translatable into elven, and that rank was rather high. If Gabriel guessed correctly, that person was a Dragoon! It was exactly what he needed! He concentrated onto his soup again, and vowed to talk with this Adam very soon...

Gauge sipped some soup as he wished he knew elvish. It would help to understand what Sarlya and Adam were saying right now. Gauge looked up as two more humans entered the tavern. One looked like a woodsman of sorts, and the other looked like a ranger.

Gauge frowned. He had always had trouble with rangers; they were kind of like the polar opposites of rouges. A ranger was always honerable, while rouges were a vast assortment of liars and thieves. Such a diffrence of morals would certinley drive a wedge between the two.

Gauge did find that Rangers usally carried an exellant collection of items with them, but were always on the alert for pickpockets and wrongdoers. He decided to stay away from the Ranger if he could, and continued eating.

"A white dragon", Sarlya replied, somewhat breathless and took a deep breath, stretching the vest she wore rather nicely, then let out a low whistle. The address had caught Dureena's attention as well and she looked back over at the two. "And I thought the wyvern we fought was bad enough. Not that it was easy mind you, D spent almost two months taking care of our companion after he got poisoned. She pulled him through just fine", she said and smiled at Dureena before looking back at Amras, "she's very good with healing. I've never heard of this place", she said and sighed, "we're so far from home."

Kezhri had ordered beef and bread. Simple, but hell...he wanted simple. He'd been eating venison and rabbit and others such things for months. He -wanted- beef. Cooked. Nah, leave it on a bit longer. Nice even char, y'know?

The first thing he did was sniff the meat. It wasn't a prime cut, but he'd suspected as much. However, it didn't seem diseased. So, he slid his knife free from its sheath and prepared to savour the taste of over-cooked meat.

That knife of his was a piece of work. About a foot of blade, crossguard, four inches were serrated. The Caraen Cross was worked into the pommel, the only bit of color on the otherwise black knife.

He deftly sliced a strip off of the chunk of beef and chewed on it. Mmm. Burnt Meat.

Rejuvenating.

"What brings you so far from your homeland then? Something important to warrent the attention of you fine people. This place is not so bad, but nothing happens here and it is a very quiet life which the people have. It would seem that a lot of new people have decided to turn up...is there any reason for this that we should know?" Amras said, curious to why these elves, and all of the other people who seemed to be very armed indeed.

The rogue was the very spot of attention. It was extremely to hid oneself when you had a massive long bow strapped to your back, and a staff with two blades. It was hardly the equipment a thief would use, so most thought he was a strange person indeed. It was hardly silent, easy to move around in, and very cumbersome and heavy.

Amras reviled such cumbersome. He understood why people wanted to have plate mail, and accepted that. Sure, some people were not fast and nimble enough to fight the way he did, and all Dragoons did. But, when he saw someone so impractically set out, it almost made him want to laugh. He could run rings around those sorts of people, because they would be held down by all the wieght and nature of the equipment they wore.

(OOC That is something I was concerned about Ravea, your character is a thief like character, carrying a massive longbow *and* a staff with two blades on the each end. That would be very heavy and very cumbersome just to get into buildings, your backback would be very awkuad to manuver. And you could hardly walk around quietly and discreetly, so...just pointing that one out to you, not that it could be a bad thing. Just to prove his ineptitude or something, rping flaws is a good thing.)

"Well", Sarlya continued in elven, "I can't speak for anyone but D and myself. We had to get away from our home. We were investigating something for D's church and wound up tanglin with the Iron Thorn. A particularly nasty orginazation. The church wasn't able to protect us so we had to leave." She glanced at Dureena who was watching the half-elf closely.

"I cannot say that I know much about them, but I do not think thier hand would reach to this remote place. There is nothing really of note here. That is why I might leave soon...I have been meaning to return to the forests of the elves...to know where my mother came from and why she went on about it a lot. Can I ask something of you? Can you tell me of it?" Amras said hopefully.

He wanted to hear of those forests again, and in elvish. It was one thing reading about them, or hearing it from humans...but another from an elf's perspective of things. Amras longed to go there, go where the forests were endless and mystical, and where the people....well....were more....elven.

Sarlya shrugged. "I don't know anything of them. My father took my mother from the elven wood before I was born. I've never seen them and she never speaks of them. Not that I speak much with either of them." She seemed unwilling to continue along the line of her parents and turned to her wine.

At the mention of the elven wood Dureena's eyes seemed to go unfocused and her serene face became more peaceful, if a little sad, at the thought of the wood that she had not seen for so long. "The ethereal beauty would bring tears to your eyes. The scent of fresh pine and jasmine. The whisper of the wind through the leaves. The song of the birds. The wonder of spring and the beauty of fall." She sighed and looked up at Amras, her silver and gold hair catching firelight, the threatening tears shimmering in her eyes. "I wish I could return, if only for a little while." She sighed and lifted the holy symbol, brushing it tenderly with her lips, "But my God sends me where he will and a Holy Knight must heed the call."

This thread should go in "International Incidents."
Just ask a mod to move it.

(OOC Jjuulliiaann, I think not. This is nationstates, a place for roleplaying in general. If you want this one moved, you will have to move a hell of a lot, and this is hardly an international event now is it.)

(OOC That is something I was concerned about Ravea, your character is a thief like character, carrying a massive longbow *and* a staff with two blades on the each end. That would be very heavy and very cumbersome just to get into buildings, your backback would be very awkuad to manuver. And you could hardly walk around quietly and discreetly, so...just pointing that one out to you, not that it could be a bad thing. Just to prove his ineptitude or something, rping flaws is a good thing.)

(OCC:You know, i was thinking that myself. I would like to keep the staff, but i'm not sure that a longbow suits my character. Perhaps a smaller Crossbow would be better; I'm sure i could arrange to have it stolen. Or perhaps the staff can break into two smaller pieces? I'll think of something.)

(OOC Your best bet is to explain it by saying you stole the two items from someone when all your weapons were taken. Your actual weapon of choice would be a light crossbow (can be dismantled, the bolts are small) and something like a short sword or two shafts of wood which can quickly be formed into a pole which can be useful for scaling walls etc.

I will make a post later, I am busy right now.)

(OOC Your best bet is to explain it by saying you stole the two items from someone when all your weapons were taken. Your actual weapon of choice would be a light crossbow (can be dismantled, the bolts are small) and something like a short sword or two shafts of wood which can quickly be formed into a pole which can be useful for scaling walls etc.

(OCC:Good thinking. I think that i might have my character buy or steal a crossbow from somewhere and discard the longbow then modify the staff.)

The babbling of the beggar in the streets scared Ainagin a bit. She was not used to such talk. But she guessed it was to be expected from a town such as this. She was brought back from wondering the Streets of Callasa, her homecity, by Leah's questioning.

"Yes, it seems to be an inn, perhaps it contains am eatery. I am starving, as well as thirsting. Shall we enter?" asked Ainagil, but her mind was already made up as she jumped off Lossë. She said something to the horse in her native Elvish tongue before tying it to a post outside.

"Come, Leah, I believe we should enter."

"Sure," Leah nodded. "Sounds good."

She opened the door, stepped inside. Blue eyes surveyed the tavern quickly, taking in the patrons with a quick glance. Deciding there was nothing resembling an immediate threat, she took a place near the two young men, and dumped her pack at the foot of her seat.

Ainagil followed Leah into the inn. Before sitting down she surveyed the room. She noticed two Elves talking to a Half-elf. Strange, she thought, it's unusual to see Elves this far below the Youar Plateau. She quickly shook that thought off before walking up to the bar and calling the barmaid.

"I would like an Elvin wine, if you have any. I would also like a loaf of bread and some cinnamon butter. And could I also have two rooms? How much for all of that?" asked Ainagil as she reached for her pouch that was at her side. Also around her waist was a sword with an icy blue luster. There were also different pouches filled with medicines.

Ainagil had been trained in the arts of swordsmanship and medicine. She could swing her Elvin blade better than most men, and could then heal any wound made with quick pulls of the hand. But above all, Ainagil could also throw a few spells. Not many, she had just begun to tap into her magical abilities, but they were there. And sometimes she could communicate with the gods, most importantly the Elvin godess, Vingata, whose holy symbol Ainagil wore around her neck.

Sarlya nudged Dureena and nodded toward the two elves that walked in. Dureena looked over at them as Sarlya looked at Amras, "Seems your wishes for this night are fulfilled if elves were your only desire", and nodded toward the two again.

Khezri finished his food and stood up. "I think I'm going to get outside. Need some fresh air. This place suddenly became very crowded. Overwhelming. Need to sell my furs, anyways."

His sentences had been short, chopped, as if forced. He half ran out of the tavern, bursting through the doorway and not stopping until he was half-way across town. He finally stopped in his tracks, bent over at the waist, sucking in deep breaths of fresh air.

He then wandered over to a trader and began bartering. He left with the trader thinking he'd made a great deal...when in fact the poor sucker had just been ripped blind. Khezri was now a well-to-do man, for the moment, at least.

So the first thing he did was buy a suitable longsword. The weapon he ended up with wasn't pretty, but it was servicable, and after a bit of work with the wet-stone, had a reasonable edge. Plus, it was steel. Which was a very, very rare thing in these parts.

He hung the sword opposite his knife. He may not be a master swordsman, but he was probably a sight better than anybody who strung the swords 'swing' and 'sword' in the same sentence.

After all, he'd been taught by his Uncle Kel.

And His Uncle Kel...

Kelsarith Kalisvarian...

Was the very, very, very best.

OOC: Leah isn't an elf. She's perfectly human....almost....basic run about appearance: Silver hair tied into a plait, blue eyes, normal -human- ears, average height, carries a relatively big curved blade across her back.

What's with him? Leah wondered briefly as the man rushed out of the inn/tavern/place. She wasn't sure what it was called here. Her stomach's growling was a more immediate concern. "A pint of beer, your second-cheapest stew, and a slice of bread...."

(OOC: Yeah I know Leah is human but silver hair is a common trait for elves where she comes from and isn't seen in humans, thus her mistake. Unless her ears are plainly visible from across the room. I would be a point of surprise for both my chars when they find out later was how I was going to RP it. Like I said unless her ears are plainly visible from across the room.)

(OOC: Yeah I know Leah is human but silver hair is a common trait for elves where she comes from and isn't seen in humans, thus her mistake. Unless her ears are plainly visible from across the room. I would be a point of surprise for both my chars when they find out later was how I was going to RP it. Like I said unless her ears are plainly visible from across the room.)
OOC: Ah. Alright. I thought it was an OOC thing. I don't -think- her ears would be visible, (depending on how long elf ears are in comparison). She's not covering her head....so....sure. Sounds like a nice way of getting to chars together.

Sarlya and Dureena got up and moved toward the two elves that came in. As they got closer Sarlya took Dureena's arm to stop her and leaned in close. 'The silver haired one isn't elven.'

Dureena looked more closely at the silver haired woman and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Odd", she said out loud in elven without thinking.

Ainagil brought her food back to her and Leah's table, sitting it on the table. She then removed her purple cloak and sitting it in her chair. She pulled back her raven-colored hair out of her face before sitting down. After whispering a prayer to the Yinas, the god of grain, she started to eat her bread. Her training kicked in as she realized someone was coming toward her and Leah. the two elves she had seen earlier were walking towards her, before they stoppped, whispering in hushed voices. Ainagil took a chance and greeted in her melodic Elvish tongue,

"Good day, fine Elves! It is good to see beings such as myself this far into the South." Ainagil pushed a smile onto her face as she stood to greet these two Elvin women.

Dureena put her helm under her left arm and bowed respectfully, "Good eve. I'm Dureena Nafeel, Holy Knight of Torm, this", she said indicating the half-elven woman beside her, "is Sarlya Amaranth. You said this far south, could you perchance tell us where we are?"

" I am Princess Ainagil E'latra, Daughter of King Ganah of the Light Elves. The name of this town is not known to me. Though, I am certain that we are somewhere below the Youar Plateau." Ainagil didn't know if it was smart to give out her position, but these Elves looked respectable and trustworthy.

"You say you are a Holy Knight of Torm, that is a very high honor. I have not even been graced by the presence of your kind, until just now."

Elves Leah sighed inwardly. They would talk and talk, and do nothing in the end. She dug into her own bowl of stew, athough still listening to the conversation. At least she was relatively sure the elven holy knight was not the sort that burned people. "MAybe you should sit down?" she asked. "Unless it's more comfortable to talk standing up."

Elves Leah sighed inwardly. They would talk and talk, and do nothing in the end. She dug into her own bowl of stew, athough still listening to the conversation. At least she was relatively sure the elven holy knight was not the sort that burned people. "MAybe you should sit down?" she asked. "Unless it's more comfortable to talk standing up."

(OOC - Was this asked in elven? because Dureena only understands elven.)

Amras before he could reply to either question, was tapped on the shoulder by the barkeep, who seemed unusually concerned. He had that odd puzzled look his face, as if he did not know exactly what was going on. Speaking in a low tone, as if he might be arrested if he spoke this news too loud, he indulged the information that Amras needed to hear.

"Adam, a rather important looking offical is asking for you outside. Looks like yourself when your in your armour. Best go now and meet him."

Amras needed no prodding to get up and meet with this person. In fact, he totally lost focus of the conversation that he was previously in, seeming rather possessed with something within his mind. He got down from his stool, and walked straight out of the tavern, with a wide stride and a determined face.

Gabriel had heard small snippets of the conversation, and was further puzzled by the look that Amras had when he passed him. Not that Amras saw Gabriel, but Gabriel certainly saw those feature's of Amras, his set jaw and resolute eyes, one coloured green and the other blue, giving him a eerie look, with his short cropped brown hair practically cut.

Amras left the tavern, and the fledgling dragoon, after a slight pause of consideration and the swift finishing of the reminants of his soup, and a toss of a few coins, followed in pursuit.

The barkeep watched Amras, the person who he called Adam, with something of curiousity. The man who wanted him outside seemed the unsociable character, and the person that was always horribly correct in a cynical way. He did not see the figure's face behind that awful helmet of his, the decorations of draconic nature.

He shivered just thinking about it, and before he could see Gabriel follow the higher ranking Dragoon out of the tavern, a voice eminated from beside him, inquiring, ""I would like an Elvin wine, if you have any. I would also like a loaf of bread and some cinnamon butter. And could I also have two rooms? How much for all of that?"

His musing and considerations were shattered, making his jump slightly. He seemed slightly shocked to be asked a question, as the fine female elven voice pierced the air. They always did. A bartender with elves within his tavern was a happy person, because the chatter was orderly and elequent, no shouting and it was music to the ears, in the language of humans or of the elven people.

"We do indeed have some fine elven wine, got some recently in fact. Adam drinks it and buys some for his own usage at home you see." The barkeep informed his new found customer. He bent down and got a bottle of the wine out, a quite fine example of elven wine too.

"I will just get what you want..." The barkeep said as he just nipped out, and then returned shortly with what she wanted, and said the price with a smile. It was reasonable for what she had just asked.

---

The two dragoons look at each other with a degree of disgust, the armoured dragoon, higher ranking and better equip due to this rank, looked at the civilian dressed dragoon who had gone to this small village to rest and recouperate.

"Amras, long time to see, old freind"

He was back.

Amras stood there, stunned with nothing to say to this person.

"Lost your tongue? Too happy to see me?"

Amras certainly was not happy to see him, not in the slightest. In fact, a boiling rage was slowly turning over within him...

Kezhri sat on a stump. It was one of those conveniently placed stumps that probably had no right at all to exist, but did none-the-less. Having purchased his longsword and worked it over at the blacksmith's wetstone, Kezhri had cut a path towards the outskirts of town.

It was then that he had found the stump. It was a perfect stump, free of rot and wetness, just the right height to allow him to sit without having to do strange things with his legs. One of those small wonders, the little things that were the most amazing.

So he sat, and he polished his sword. The cloth he used was a tad more coarse then he would have liked, but it worked. He deftly worked the dirt and grime out of the fuller and the cross-guard. The grip was interesting, a thinner than normal hardwood grip wrapped with treated leather which had weathered rather well, and now provided a nice positive grip.

The pommel was a simple design, just heavy enough to provide the ideal counterweight to the thirty nine inch blade. It really had been a find, and the blacksmith he'd bought it from certainly didn't know its value.

You see, it was a classic war sword, wielded one handed with a shield by a strong man, but fully capable of use two-handed should that shield be lost. Obviously, used one handed the sword would be slower than used two-handed.

Finally, satisfied that sword was clean and sparkling, Kezhri shook the rag clean and pocketed it, then freed his knife from its sheath. Carefully, he set the tip of the black bladed Caraen Longknife to the sword's blade, and etched a pair of marks into the steel.

One was identical to mark in the pommel of his knife, the other was in the sharp runes that his Uncle had taught to him, and meant 'Kezhri's Edge.' Satisfied thus, he returned the longknife to its scabbard on his thigh and slid to his feet.

His left foot slid back, and the sword slid to the low-guard position, diagonal from his right hip. He ran through a set of drills that he had learned, unsurprisingly, from his Uncle.

A life of hard work had left Kezhri with a set of wiry muscles tuned to certain tasks. One of those tasks had been reaping the fields, and the long, curved sickle he had used for hours upon end without break had developed exactly the sort of muscles that he needed for swordplay.

Funny, that. The sickle had been a gift to his father from his Uncle Kel...

(OOC - Was this asked in elven? because Dureena only understands elven.)
OOC: No. Leah knows about a dozen elven words, and most of them are not the sort you say in greetings.

Dureena bowed to the Princess and replied in elven, "The honor is mine, your grace, and it is a pleasure as well. I have had the honor of meeting a Duke but never a Princess." She looked at Leah when she spoke but only tilted her head and smiled politely.

Sarlya looked at Leah then Dureena and repeated what she said. Dureena thanked her and moved to a chair. Sarlya looked back at Leah and spoke in common, "She thanks you. I'm sorry but she only speaks elven. Torm is her god, though human, but he was popular with the elves where she came from. Her training was in elven lands. I'm Sarlya Amaranth", she said then nodded toward Dureena, "That's Dureena Nafeel." She then took a seat.

"Please tell, Dureena Nafeel, what it is you and your companion are doing in this dismal place?" asked Ainagil, staring at the Holy Knight. "Surely you are not here on business of the Temple."

Sarlya repeated it and after a brief whispered discussion Dureena shrugged and Sarlya turned back. "We're not on business exactly. We're a bit lost is why we're here in this place." Sarlya shrugged, "D's mother is a priestess, her father was a soldier, we got assigned to deal with something and we got in deep."

"Not to pry, but what sort of something?" asked Ainagil. She was a curious being, and it sometimes got her into trouble.

"We were investigating some raiding kobalds when we found out that they were a cover for a criminal orginisation operating inside the city. We crossed the Iron Thorn a few times and the church isn't able to protect us. They were trying to kill several witnesses to major crimes that would finally allow the authorities to bring the leaders to trial. We don't have the proof they need, and by now, the witnesses are dead, so we can't get protection from the authorities either." Sarlya sighed and sipped her wine, "And so here we are."