The Tiran Wars: Southern Reaches

DeletedUser

Markef advanced through the woods, pushing himself along in much the same manner he had brought himself to the Hiradul mountains with. He swayed around the trees and skipped across rocks, never losing balance or energy. Where there was no trail, he blazed one, cutting small plants out of the way with a hatchet. His destination, in his mind, was likely a town in the south of Tiran, but he wasn't sure. Like his father had said, "never start a story with the end in mind, nor a journey with the destination in mind." He had done and seen all he came for the previous day, or so he thought.

In time, he came across a clearing, in which sat a hut, which appeared to have been built long ago and lived in for many years. Looking around, he spied a stone with something engraved in it. The message was unreadable from his position, so he came closer, and observed it. It appeared to have been freshly carved, but he could not determine exactly how long it had been around. He read the message:

Here lies Regal
Hero of Tiran
Who helped bring down the Demon Giant
And was my father

Regal... that name stood out to him. Literally, it meant "of or relating to a monarch", by his understanding, but something else about it gave a deeper meaning. "Regal", he thought, searching the depths of his mind, "where have I heard that name before?" He searched his mind for a minute, and when he found the name within his cranium, it struck him furiously. He remembered every detail then. Regal was one of the men who fought alongside Témalad against the Demon Giant and his minions. He was overcome with emotion, and fell to his knees. What a pity it was that he would never meet the great Regal alive. He placed his hands upon the stone. He never met the man beneath it, but was taken by emotion regardless. Among the people his father left behind so many years ago, it was a tradition to bury a great warrior with a weapon. However, he did not wish to defile the grave, so he simply took his best sword, the one he had used before he found the one in the Demon Giant's bone, and drove it into the ground beside the stone, with the hilt in the air.

He said a prayer for the soul of Regal, and realized something else. He recalled the last line of the inscription: And was my father. That meant that Regal had a son. No, not merely a son, but an heir, destined to follow in his father's footsteps. He went off on his way, thinking about the revelation. The heroes of Tiran did not meet by coincidence, and the events of the past two days were shaping up in a similar fashion. He knew that the heirs to the heroes would meet again, to write history as their forefathers had. He sprinted off into the distance. He had no idea where he was going, but he knew that when he got there, the next chapter of history would begin.
 

Deleted User - 819397

F'nor reached a clearing as the sun began to set, and decided to set up camp for the night. He had taken some of the food his father had in his hut before he left, since it would simply spoil otherwise. He made a small meal, then lay down for the night. He used the padded inside of the adamantine shield as a pillow, not knowing his father had done the same 40 years before. As soon as he fell asleep, an incredibly vivid dream started.

He was standing in utter nothingness. Nothing existed other than himself, it seemed. Then a figure appeared in front of him, a small, bright eyed boy. As F'nor watched, the boy matured, going from childhood to adulthood in an instant. Then the change from adult to elder happened, and F'nor stared...it was his father. The cycle of Regal's life kept cycling, child to adult to elder and back, but when he spoke it was always with the same voice. "Well, I'd say that the transfer was successful, wouldn't you?" he asked. When nothing came from the stunned F'nor, he continued. "Isn't it curious that I died immediately after you came to me? It wasn't random. I had planned to die the night after you came to me. During my travels with the other heros, I was told by Ryn'ntar a way to encase my soul inside something I had been through something climactic with. He warned me that after I began the transfer, I would die shortly after. I had planned for years that when you came I would seal myself in my weapons so that I could help you in the days ahead. Now, a few things to mention here...I will not be able to directly communicate with you unless you are asleep or unconscious. I also can only talk with someone who uses the weapon as their own...the TRUE owner of it, in other words. I will be able to help you in battle by lending you some of my old strength...but otherwise you must use your own skill. Now, one thing you asked me last night as we ate was why after I remembered my true name, F'lar, I still went by Regal. In truth, it was because I was afraid my old self and what I had become after my memory was taken away would fight each other for control of my body if I allowed any part of my old life to take dominance...Regal I had become, so Regal I stayed." He looked kindly at F'nor (who's mouth was still hanging open), then added. "I know you have many questions, but they need to wait...it is morning and someone approaches...either a powerful friend or a powerful foe...I cannot tell which...good luck, my son."

F'nor woke with a start, remembering what his father had said, and he quickly packed up and prepared for either a conversation or a confrontation...his hands were clutching his axe-lance and shield just in case.
 

DeletedUser25825

Kyolja woke and lifted her head from her bent knees. She heard several birds chirping some nonsense about this particular tree, or that bush being their nesting area and warning other birds away. She snorted disdainfully at the mindless blather and stood slowly. She remained still, with her head bowed slightly towards the ground as she listened intently to the surrounding area. Other than the damnable birds, and a warm breeze that caused the leaves to whisper, she heard nothing out of the ordinary. She raised her arms slightly as she twisted back and forth in place popping several joints of her spine. Sleeping in a sitting position certainly was not something she enjoyed doing.

She removed her cloak and shook the excess water from its exterior before pulling it on and raising the hood over her head. The storm had raged throughout the night and she felt certain were she truly still pursued only the most extraordinary of trackers would be able to find any path to follow her by.

She turned her head slightly to her left and spoke quietly, "Where are you Cocheta you silly girl?" She waited for a few moments, before she heard the mare cantering in her direction. She moved towards the brook that babbled nearby and squatted down next to it. She cupped her hand and took several gulps of the clear, icy water. A mountain must be nearby she decided as she heard Cocheta halt nearby and snort a morning greeting. Kyolja smiled and stood. She turned towards the horse and walked to her. She dragged her hands over the mare's flank and patted its muscular haunch. "Good morning to you too my friend. Did you find rest last night?" The horse shook out its mane and whinnied, which drew a musical bout of laughter from Kyolja. "It wasn't MY plan to leave in haste." She ran her hands over the mare's neck a few more times.

She moved a short distance from the mare and sat down cross-legged on the forest floor. She reached into her cloak and pulled out a finely wrought leather-bound book. Cocheta walked over to her and nudged Kyolja's shoulder with her muzzle. Kyolja grinned and reached into her cloak again. She pulled out a small leather satchel, unwrapped it carefully and picked three white lumps of sugar from a small pile. She held them up and giggled girlishly as Cocheta nibbled them from her palm. "Ok my friend, go forage. I need to study." The mare walked off into the nearby forest as Kyolja picked a lump of suger from the dwindling pile and popped it into her mouth to suck on. She wrapped the sugar back up and returned the satchel to an inner pocket of her cloak. She opened the book and rested her hands on the open pages. She bowed her head down and sat still as she focused.
 
Last edited by a moderator:

DeletedUser

As was his newly formed habit, Ryn'taer practiced the Elven Sword Dance that morning, before he came back to camp. Serban, in his usual manner, was sitting across the crackling fire from the Ranger, when he returned, a strange look upom his face. His protege, Ryn'taer, was worried by the look, but knew better than to interrupt his teacher while he was pondering upon something. Once, when Ryn'taer had only lived ten summers inside the time restraining enchantment of Terra'kn, he spoken out of turn and Serban had smashed a heavy branch into his face, hard eough to draw blood and send the young boy to his knees, that had taught Ryn'taer a lesson about speech that he had never forgotten.

Ryn'taer began to roast the meat he had in his pack, while Serban was still in the throws of his meditation. The meat was ready to be eaten, when his elven mentor came around. The pair had a harty breakfast, before they sat off, Serban not having spoken a word through their repast. Ryn'taer was worried if Serban was planning on leaving him to make his way southward on his own, or if he himself did not know the best way to begin their crusade against the oppresive forces of Tiran. Either way, Ryn'taer mused, he wouldn't hear anything of it until Serban was ready to speak of it.

The pair were making their way silently through the forests, beginning the gradual incline that would take them to the foothills of Southland. It was a good day for travel, there was a light breeze that blew the pair's hair back off their foreheads and kept them cool throughout the day's ordeals.

"We must make our presence known to the forces of Tiran, Ryn'taer. So that they know there is a force against their tiranical control over the lands to the south. This will make them cautious and slow their march into Southland, maybe even enough to give us time to gain a foothold in the reigion." Serban said, with the sudden intensity of an arrow impaling a unaware victim.

"I take it you know of such a target, mentor." Ryn'taer replied, the last part of his sentance coming out rushed, as he leapt over a boulder, catching an overhanging tree branch to swing himself clear.

"Yes, I do. Our outrunner told me of two things last moon. He told me of the mysterious sorceror and of a caravan of slave owners coming through the mountains. On our way to the south, you will stop this caravan and let only a few escape alive, the better to strike fear into the hearts of their comrades in Tiran." Serban replied, his small wings beating suriously to bring him to the same branch Ryn'taer had used to vault the boulder a moment before.

"Will I not have any support, mentor?" Ryn'taer asked, a worried tone in his voice, that could easilly be mistaken for fear.

"You will not, Ryn'taer, for I will be leaving you shortly. It is not the Du'ellofar's place to influence the world of men. We have entrusted you with all of our knowledge, with the single request that you do as we ask when it is called upon you." Serban replied "Do not fear, for I will be watching you and reports of your deeds will be told to our lady in due time."

"It is not glory I am worried for, but survival. You cannot expect me to stop an armed convoy with only my bow and my sword." Ryn'taer replied.

"The caravan is ten miles south of us, you will reach it just in time to lay an ambush. Good luck, young Toro'eth, I can only pray that you live up to your namesake." Serban was gone then, vanishing, as if by magic from sight, sound and mind.
 

DeletedUser

The next day, as Markef forged ahead through the dense woodlands, he noticed an unusual shape in the distance. As he came closer, he noticed the figure of a man. The closer he came, the more he could make out. Soon, he realized that the man was wielding an axe-lance and shield of an obscure design. They seemed unusual and familiar at the same time. The man was poised in a battle stance, clearly prepared to fight. Markef's heart quickened, and he prepared to draw his new sword, in case the encounter turned violent. However, he kept his cool. There was no need to spill blood, at least, not yet. "However", he thought, "that axe-lance would fetch a fair price on the market..."

He approached the stranger gingerly, and began, "Hello, stranger. If you don't think me forward for doing so, might I ask what brings you out here, with such a stance?"
 

Deleted User - 819397

F'nor relaxed slightly...the man seemed friendly enough, and hadn't drawn his weapon, so the probability of him being hostile was slightly lessened. "To be honest...I'm not sure anymore." he responded to the question. "I originally came to meet someone...and he charged me with stopping the war that's been plaguing our land...but I honestly don't know how. What about you? I can't imagine this is a commonly traveled path."
 

DeletedUser

Relieved at the stranger's calm response, Markef continued: "Well, I'm not sure either. I originally came for sightseeing and to visit the Hiradul mountain battleground, and on my way back I found the grave of one of my father's comrades, and just now I ran into you. I agree, this is not a well-traveled area, and I had no clue that my father's comrade lived around here. This is all too much to be a coincidence." At that point, he realized he hadn't introduced himself. "My name's Markef, by the way. What's yours?"
 

Deleted User - 819397

F'nor re-shouldered his weapon and shield (as Markef obviously wasn't going to try and kill him) and replied "I'm F'nor. It's good to meet you Markef." He thought for a second. Grave of one of his father's comrades??? he thought. Almost afraid to ask, he inquired, "Who exactly was your father?" He sincerely hoped he hadn't gone as pale as he felt as he said that.
 

DeletedUser

"I'm not sure you'll believe it, but my father is Témalad, one of the warriors who brought down the Demon Giant. Why do you ask?", Markef responded. "The comrade I was talking about is Regal, one of the other warriors. The inscription on the grave stone also said he had a son. I know it's a long shot, but would you know anything about that?", he queried, expecting a "no".
 

Deleted User - 819397

F'nor sat down hard, stunned. So much had happened over the last two days that this last piece of info just wouldn't register right away. After looking forward, stunned, for a few seconds, he collected himself and stood back up. "I ask because I was the one who buried my father yesterday morning. The weapon and shield I carry were once his..." F'nor rubbed his eyes wearily, then added, "I now have a feeling that all this was supposed to happen...What are the odds two sons of the heros who destroyed the Demon Giant just happen to come across each other, not 30 miles from where one of said heros' grave is?"
 

DeletedUser25825

Kyolja sat near the brook with her head bowed and hands resting on the pages of her book. Occasionally, she would turn a page and rest her hands on the open book. As she sat, she became aware of a new silence to the area. She shifted slightly and raised her head slowly as she listened. There were no sounds of insects, no birds calling out, nothing in her surroundings save the soft babble of the water in the brook streaming over small rocks and other obstructions.

She was about to stand to vacate the area when she heard the most likely source of what was causing the area to go silent. She heard the softest step of an approaching person she had ever discerned. Whomever it was, the person was directly behind her, and quite possibly the only reason she'd heard it. She found herself wondering how a body could move so quietly, but she brushed the thought aside as she closed her book of blank pages slowly. She kept it on her lap and placed her empty hands atop her knees. She turned her head slightly, not revealing her face to the person she could now hear breathing behind her.

The person smelled of the forest, and of roasted meat. She turned her head ever so slightly, keeping it concealed by the edge of her hood, as she stated, "Greetings traveler. Do you always travel so lightly, or am I about to become the victim of some criminal act?"
 

DeletedUser

Faeron moved swiftly over the grassy plain and into the forest that the rider had escaped to. He was not sure where the rider had gone but he had a rough idea, he went deeper into the forests. The trees here were large but not anything special when compared to Rwendia. Faeron could find no more signs of the rider so he rested for the night half consciously, so he could sense what was happening around him. After he had rested for a moment he realized that he was starving so he decided to hunt. He got his bow from his back pack along with a small skinning knife that he had "borrowed" in the village. It wasn't long before a buck passed by, Faeron let loose an arrow that killed it instantly. He then put it on his shoulder and carried the buck back to his resting place where he used his elven magic to roast the animal. He ate what he needed, leaving the left overs to whatever came after him. He oiled his bow and then rested for the night.

In the early hours of the morning Faeron rose and walked down to a stream to get some water when he heard the canter of a horse. He stood perfectly still as it passed and it made no notice of him. So Faeron took a quick drink and then lay silently in the forest floor hidden by some trees. Not long after he saw the rider pass by on the black mare, Faeron got his things and followed close behind, not making any sound. She soon stopped near a brook and sent her horse away into the forest. When Faeron approached she was reading some sort of book, silently he walked up to her. He guarded himself with elven magic in case she used her own against him. As he neared she withdrew her gaze from her book and without turning back, she said calmly "Greetings traveler. Do you always travel so lightly, or am I about to become the victim of some criminal act?"
Faeron was taken aback, he had moved silently, or so he had thought but then he wondered what his plan was when he had reached where she was sitting... he wondered for a moment before saying, "That would all depend on you, I have followed you through the forest after your escape from the village. And it was only last night when I really thought about it, you wouldn't have ... done that... to those men for nothing would you...? " Faeron reinforced his guard as he waited for a reply... he hadn't quiet worded it as he had like but nothing could be done now...so he waited.
 

DeletedUser25825

Kyolja's head shook from side to side slightly, as she did not turn to face the elf behind her. "The men had unwisely chosen me as their next robbery victim. I advised them of their folly, but they chose to press the issue with violence intended to my person. I defended myself without impunity toward them." She paused for a moment or so of consideration before continuing, "Admittedly, I may have sent a stronger message than I intended in retrospect, but had they been captured by the authorities the same fate, albeit by a different mechanism, would have awaited them."

The woman continued to sit as she turned her head slightly to the left, still keeping her features hidden behind her hood, and asked, "Do you intend on taking custody of me then?" Kyolja turned her head toward the brook before her as she commented, "I was not aware that the elves had become enforcers for men, let alone those elves who wield power" She brushed her strangely marked hands across the covering of the leather-bound book, before withdrawing it inside her cloak from her lap. She rose slowly to her feet still facing the brook.

She remained still and quiet for a short time. She lifted her covered head up towards the sky as another warm breeze teased the leaves overhead. She sighed audibly and turned to face the elf behind her. The first striking feature Faeron could observe was that she was apparently blind, which immediately answered why her hearing was probably as keen as it was. A strip of linen was thickly wound around her head and over her eyes. Her face was bone white like her hands. A royal purple isosceles triangle traveled up the center of her chin with its pinnacle at the top of her upper lip. Each of her cheeks were stained with the same colored dye in the form of curving fangs, which started somewhere under the linen covering her eyes and pointed towards the corners of her lips.

As Faeron studied Kyolja she spoke, "I must warn you that I have no intention of returning to any village in order to make an accounting of my actions", she paused and continued, "present or past." She did not move in any threatening manner, but Faeron could sense a sudden crackling form of energy in the air surrounding the two, which caused his hair begin to stand on end. "I am the Shadow Mage Kyolja, member of the secret Council of Wraiths, and betrayer of the Arhmage Ellira Yishel. Let your intentions for me be known."
 
Last edited by a moderator:

DeletedUser

Fearon stood still as she questioned him, as she talked the air around them started to brim with energy. The forest had grown silent as if waiting for his response. He answered slowly...
"I am Faeron of the Elves of Rwendia and I have come here to Tiran and to journey to the south lands where a war is commencing, and I fear it will become the greatest war Tiran witness for many for generations to come... As for enforcing the law? I have nothing to do with the humans primitive punishments for the breaking their "laws". All I seek is knowledge and information before I choose my side in this war, as for the others of my race they are taking no part in it... most of them anyway. I have heard little of your kind but I wonder why you and your people have come to Tiran now, unless you have come on your own... but for what reason may I ask?"
 

DeletedUser

"Well F'nor", Markef continued, "you and I have very different objectives, or at least, so it seems. At any rate, neither of us can accomplish them on our own. Our fathers didn't meet by accident, and neither did we, I'll wager. I think we should head south and see what we can find there. You want to end the war and I want to fight it, and both jobs will be easier with proximity. Are you ready? Let's go!". He said the last phrase without even waiting for a response, and prepared himself for the long journey southward.
 

Deleted User - 819397

F'nor nodded in agreement and followed Markef into the wilderness. He was lost in thought as they walked. The heros who took down the demon giant were all warriors to a man. They all had some sort of training or real life experience on the battlefield before confronting the first waves of the Demon Giant's army. Similarly, Markef seemed to be a warrior of sorts. F'nor on the other hand was not a fighter...he had never joined in the constant scuffles his friends had entertained themselves with when they were young. Plus, he had taken up the trade of a blacksmith...not exactly the hero type background you'd expect. he thought bitterly. He wondered if any of the other heros had had children, and if they would meet them at some point. F'nor worried that if they did meet others, he would be the weakest of them all. Sure, he'd trained himself to fight with an axe-lance and shield combo, but only against straw dummies he'd fashioned for himself...he was unsure if he'd be able to take a life, should it come to that.

Eventually, F'nor realized he was being fairly anti-social, so he spoke to Markef as they made their way. "So, what do you know of your father?" he asked conversationally.
 

DeletedUser

"Oh, what don't I know?!", Markef responded energetically. "Most people don't know much about my father, since he didn't like to talk about his past, but he told me the whole story. I'll start off with where he came from":

He was born many years ago in the land of Nakuria, a land that borders Southland to the southeast. He was born with the name Alnas, I'll get to the reason he changed his name later. The Nakurian culture and lifestyle is quite a story in and of itself, I'll save it for another time. Anyway, my father lived a happy,promising life until the age of seventeen, when he was accused of a crime he didn't commit. It was a complicated crime, having to do with debts and commodities, very hard to understand. The leaders of his clan, falsely believing that he was guilty, decided to exile him from the clan, and he was violently attacked by the man he owed and his underlings, even though he had already paid off his debt and then some. He was badly wounded and left for dead by his attackers. He lived, and in a rage, he swore he would never return, not to his clan nor the rest of Nakuria. He took to roaming the world, traveling to many different kingdoms and learning several languages, some of which he taught me, including Nakurian. He chose to leave his old name behind, and he took the name Témalad from a common name from one of those lands. He became a mercenary who never asked for payment in gold, taking pleasure in fighting for a worthy cause. In fact, he was out looking for a job when he met your father and the others. After the final battle, he faded into obscurity, since nobody recognized him or gave him credit for what he had accomplished. He had me with a woman he met in the far north of Tiran, and he raised me by himself, teaching me everything he knew, and even some things he didn't know. We parted ways when I was twenty, and I haven't heard from him since. I think he's still alive, but I have no idea where he is.

He finished the story. "Sorry if I was too long and wordy", he said. "There's a lot more to the story, of course, that's the short version".
 

Deleted User - 819397

F'nor let all of the information he had just been given sink in. He felt he was beginning to understand the kind of person that all the heros had been before taking on the Demon Giant...they all had encountered many hardships that had helped them prepare for the great feat they had underwent. This made him feel even more inadequately prepared to do anything even remotely like what his father had done. "Thank you for sharing that..." he said. "I'll tell you what I know of my father and what he did...we only had one night together, but I learned much about him and also from my mother."

Regal was born with the name F'lar. Not much is known of his early life since he himself did not remember it. However, Dosot, one of the other heros was able to tell him that he had been something similar to your father...he took on jobs and did not ask for payment very often, but he was known for his compassion. It didn't matter what he was looking at...if he didn't need to kill it he didn't. Then he ran into a nasty group of goblins and was ambushed while trying to fight them. The several blows to the head he took there destroyed most of his memory. He eventually escaped from the goblins and wandered half dead into a small town hidden away in the mountains. There he was nursed back to health by the kindly inhabitants, and he adopted his new name once a villager called him regal-looking, as if he had been born into royalty. Gaining a name gave my father a sense of identity again, and he had but one goal; to do all in his power that what happened to the village he tried to save and to himself never happened to anyone ever again. The village mined adamantine to earn their living, and they gladly gave him some when he asked. Almost in a trance, he forged the weapons that he became known for, during which a sorcerer added the shockwave power the axe-lance is best remembered for. He then set out, doing all he could to prevent goblin raids. It was during this time that he ran into your father and the others. After the end of the great battle, Regal went half mad with grief over leaving Ryn'ntar to die. He wandered endlessly, searching for something to bring him back when he ran into my mother...she helped him regain his sense of life, and they had me a few months later. Regal was then overcome with a feeling that I would be ashamed of him for his failure to save Ryn'ntar when I found out, so he left, giving me a steel replica of his weapons to "test" me. He told my mother to not tell me of my relation to him, rather saying that she was unsure who my father was...this was an utter lie, as I later found out...my mother was never promiscuous. Regal then fled to these forests, where he built a modest hut and lived his life until two days ago, when I came following a summons I received from him. He then told me half of these things I just told you, and also the reason why he never reverted to his old name once he remembered it...he feared his old self and his new self would fight it out for dominance, so he purposely kept himself isolated from what he had been. He gave me the true weapons he had used to take down the Demon Giant, then passed away that night.

F'nor looked up..."so now you know Regal's story as well." Inwardly he wondered if he should tell Markef that Regal's soul now inhabited his weapons...he decided not to say anything until he was positive that he could trust him. Markef seemed honest enough, and the fact he was able to so confidently say so much about his own supposed father cemented that fact, but Regal had been unsure whether or not Markef was a friend or a foe, so he kept quiet about it.
 

DeletedUser25825

Kyolja remained silent for some time as she stood before Faeron before replying, "Well Faeron of Rwendia, I too come seeking unknown knowledge. I am at the same disadvantage of not knowing to whose side of this upcoming affair I belong to. I only am aware that it is my fate to be part of the conflict." The gathering sense of energy dispersed before she continued speaking. "Knowing we walk a path of similar goals for the present, perhaps it would be wise to travel together."


She smiled slightly as she withdrew her hands into her cloak. "I know you have no reason to trust me, and know nothing of my people. I do not know if you mean humans, or those I came from. I know very little of the ways of elves, other than the legends of battle prowess. Perhaps we might learn of each other as we travel." She turned her head slightly to her left and toward the ground as she paused. "Cocheta. It is time to ride once more." She straightened her head as a distant answering whinney of the mare sounded out in the forest.


"So what say you Faeron of Rwendia? Do we travel together? Or do we meet when the fates once again intertwine, be it as friends or foes?" The mare Cocheta cantered into the clearing and stopped near the mage. Kyolja brushed her hands along the horse's front haunch and grabbed onto her muscular neck, before swinging upward effortlessly onto her bare back.
 

DeletedUser13682

"How did this woman escape? We ahd her surrounded! We had her horse tied up with metal chains! There was no escape path! And yet, we don't have her in our custody!" The Platooners were obviously scared, nothing had happened that had caused Cassius to expode like this. There was something really bothering him, probaby that a woman was able to evade an entire company of Royal Guards Horse. "I demand retribution for this! Not only did she commit unlawful murder and torture, she resisted arrest! I will have her head for this! Platooners, gather your men! We search now! Start in the direction she ran off to. That is our best hope of finding her. Your orders are simple. Destruction of the horse, and capture of the woman, any and all force is authorized. Now go before I try you all for treason!" The platooners immediately ran out of the room, and 10 minutes later, the 4th Royal Guards Horse Company was on the road again.

"Nothing here! Nothing at all! What's that? Nothing." Nothing was the word of the day, the rain had helped nothing at all in this man, excuse me, womanhunt. A dangerous evil was out there, and Cassius had to find it, or else he'd be dead, Tiran would be dead, and the world destroyed. Such was the ways of evil men, guess it applied to evil women as well. Now, after a few hours of searching, Cassius had wandered by himself, and, having found a cool mountain stream, gave himself, and his horse, plenty of cool water. Cassius now mounted back on his horse, thought that he imagined talking nearby, one of these talkers being the elf from the tavern. Cassius rode his horse closer to the source of the sound, the sight of which astonished him and angered him at the same time. First, the elf was talking with the woman, about riding off in the search for knowledge. Second, that the woman, now dehooded, was blind. A blind woman escaped a company of horse, of Royal Guard Horse to be exact. Now was the time for action. Cassius pulled out his calvary sabre in his left hand, his lance in his right, and rode out next to the elf and the woman. "Both of you are under arrest, by the authority invested unto me by King D'uffingham of Tiran. You are to walk quietly to the nearest jail where you will await trail. Any resistance will result in a summary execution."
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top