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Athradien was about to freeze the Polearm to the point it became a useless object and would break at the faintest reverberation when the people inside of the house came out, bearing arms. He knew all three of them, at least by sight. He had been locked up in the cells directly across from both of them. It would be a little difficult to know who he was, he was regularly tortured by the guards in an attempt to get some information out of him. With his mouth covered, he wasn't able to cast any spells what so ever, leaving him completely vulnerable to their brutality.

At Evie's demands to know who's side he was on, he stared at her for but a second. "Is it not quite obvious seeing as how I just had a guards blade inches from my throat...?" He turned his head back to where the guard which had attempted to arrest him, seeing at girl from Atles closing the door and blocking its opening with a plank, then rushing toward the frail one, demanding he put something down.

Athradien pulled his sword, listening to Aerandir speak to the man with the Axe. It was an intricate sword made from an elven artisan. Every time the blade was pulled, he was reminded of its origin and it drove a fire in his blood. He reached behind his cloak, slipping his middle finger into a metal ring, wrapping his other fingers around a hilt as he pulled a large knife almost out of no where (basically a bowie knife in our time).

"As she said... it would be quite smart to leave us be... How long could you hold up against three while your... "guards" rushed to your rescue...?" His voice seemed cold and dark as he bent his knees, getting in an offensive stance.

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~Garbage Dump, Alabar, Branchwood~

Orin:

Orin watched the other guard lurch past him to walk into the smoke-filled shack. That was unfortunate. He hadn't meant for anyone on their side to walk into that and shame himself. But so he did, and Orin very hard not to shift that blame to himself.

The woman in there had come out and trapped the other guard inside the shack. Then she turned toward him, making Orin start, and rushed him. Probably if there were more people to watch, Orin might not have noticed her, but she had looked at him first. He was so surprised that he had no time think about what he was doing, and so when she brandished the blade near his chest and started speaking, he blew into the bottle, shutting his own eyes tight. As the powder flew out from it and near her face, Orin stumbled back behind the green-eyed guard.

He had hoped the unknown contents of the bottle would have been enough to make anyone wary of approaching him, but that proved false. He held the bottle of powdered blue flag close to his chin, ready to breathe into it again as he faced the man on the ground. No doubt by now, the woman's eyes would start to become inflamed and irritated. He stayed where he was, offering none of the plant he had for eyewashes. The man stood up, effectively threatening them from each side as he and green-eyed guard stood back to back.

Geoffrey:

Geoffrey reached back to pat the side of the healer's shoulder as he came stumbling behind him. He gave thought to both the elf's and the woman's words.

"Oh," Geoffrey said to the voice behind him. "Already you underestimate an opponent you do not know."

He looked at the elf, who was still brandishing his bastard blade and taking a few steps forward. Another grin stood out on Geoffrey's face as he answered, "Boy, boy, boy. Yes. I know. Pup, you should try your tiny growls and little lunges on a younger, more excitable dog. Go test your baby teeth on someone else's loose skin, for if you test them on me, I'm afraid they'll pull out in my thick fur." He tossed the elf a wink. "You do not see my advantage yet, then, which means it works on both students and elves." He gave a pause for the elf to consider what he meant, then gave him another wink before tapping his temple to indicate the answer.

Then he turned to the woman who seemed to be the leader. "Indeed, yes..." he said, clearly thinking. "That letter was much too forward to be factual, yet an attempt at an assassination was made." He continued on without giving them a chance to consider what he had said. "This is why the Prince is in a tizzy, because it was his friend whose life lay on the line for him." He thought of her other words, committing them to memory. She didn't seem to be lying about not knowing from whence the letter had come. So they didn't know, either. Now the only reason to bring them back to the prison was for formalities for the public.

He couldn't just retreat, though, for that would be seen as being worse than a coward to the other guards--it would be treason. It was the Prince's will for these people to be in prison. But the bloodshed was hardly necessary, so Geoffrey stood there instead, thinking, and waiting for the rest of the guards to show up.

He couldn't help smiling to himself. He probably threw all of the students and the elf for a loop. Most likely, they were now embarrassed by all their posturing when confronted with a reasonable and experienced person, but however amusing that was, it was also sad. They had indeed been treated unfairly. "A damn shame," he muttered, shaking his head. He scratched at the circle beard he kept so closely and neatly trimmed. Then he returned to his earlier thoughts. They wouldn't know exactly how to handle him, then. He was the ever threatening, for he had shown them neither the extent of his strength or his wit, and the unknown always was cause for fear. Even so, he kept his pensive stance, waiting for the guards and for them to speak or attack, and ready for either.

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[[[My guy is a bit of a dunce Aer]]]

"Oh--Goo-od Lord!", Vejjin shouted between regurgitations. He stubbled to the door and realized what the girl meant when she said, "And sorry for this, too". The door was jammed.

"Oh, for the love of-", he spoke before hurling again. He probably should never have become a guard, it was his family's tradition though. He was always easily distracted. And now, to him it became extremely apparent. He looked around for any exits, he wouldn't fit through the small window while in guard armour, the pukeweed would, but doing that would simply cause the others outside to experience the same agony. And so he ran at the wooden wall at full speed hoping that it wasn't too sturdy. Unfortunately by the time he hit it he realized it was, he hit the wall and smacked to the floor.

"Geez-", he mumbled before puking again.

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"Size Matters Not"

Proud member of the D.I.C.A.
Floaty Cube, 4/880 experiance points

Corrin - Garbage Dump, Alabar, Branchwood

"D-damn!" Corrin fell back as the smaller man blew some kind of powder in her face, and her eyes began to burn and water. Soon she couldn't see anything, and she held her hands out cautiously, brandishing her daggers, trying to get her bearings. She hit the wall of the alley and stopped.

She heard the voices of her companions and another man's voice, one of the guards. He seemed to be speaking the truth, despite the fact that he was their enemy. So someone had made an assassination attempt inside the castle? This was getting more complicated than she thought, and more dangerous. Something wasn't right here, nothing seemed to fit together at all. She glanced half-blind and bleary-eyed in the direction of the speaker.

"So you would rather have the blame pinned on those who are innocent, rather than find out the truth of who is behind this and avoid war between our two countries?" The man seemed to have both a sense of honor and reason, so perhaps he would listen to them. Then again, maybe not.

Sig: ~Garbage Dump, Alabar, Branchwood~

The predator was getting restless, there was too much talking from the rabbits. The dogs were turning out to be more bark than bite.

But irritating at their words were, they were also the most entertaining thing he'd heard in a long, long time. He was almost bursting at the seams with laughter.

In fact, he was having trouble even controlling his magic. He just couldn't stop. His obscuring shield shattered and he felt the magics that bound him in the air unraveling.

There was a blowout of raw magical force charging the air and he dropped like a rock. The heavily robed figure, inexplicably appearing above their heads crashed down with a solid, sickening thud against the ground. He lay in an awkward heap for a moment, then slowly, rising in pitch, the sounds of muffled laughter penetrated the skewed ivory cloth that covered his face. He straightened himself out, arms outwards as if expecting an embrace. He rose from the ground, legs and back stiff, with a slow turn of the heel, as he gathered the raw magics around him to lift him to his feet.

He wasn't a big man. He was not a small man either, being of taller than average height, though the white vestments he wore disguised his true girth. His face was pale, sickly pale, and his hard yellow eyes regarded the mongrels before him with malicious mirth.

"You are a queer bunch of rabbits aren't you." He gathered his robes up about him, snuggling into their voluminous folds. "Saying such strange things. What matter is it whether you are innocent or guilty?"

He took a step forwards, though he was tall, he seemed to be hunching his back to keep eye level with most of them in a way that was both hawkish and demeaning. Raw magic seemed to coil around him, the ambient energies in the air drawn towards him like a whirlpool. "You have defied Branchwood law little rabbits. That makes you fair game. For all the dogs in town."

He glanced idly at the noble Branchwood soldiery, doing a rather terrible job of retrieving the rabbits. A red-brown hand completely sheathed in burn-scar tissue, rose, scratching at his jawline. "Unfortunately you have happened upon a wolf." He smiled a smile that oozed false charisma. His reputation would proceed him, of that he was certain. After all, who hadn't heard of the handsome, svelte, terrifying court sage to the Kingdom of Branchwood? Most terrible and powerful being in all the known world!

He nodded down the open street. "Better start running rabbits, the chase is no fun if you just cower in fear." He took another slow step towards them wondering which one would be the first to foolishly bite at the wolf.

Pent: ~Town Proper, Alabar, Branchwood~

The knight of Altes followed another group of soldiers with his eyes. They were in a frenzy today, it had taken him most of the early morning hours just to sneak past the city limits. They were obviously riled to action, and he didn't need to guess as to what might have caused their agitation. Their movement patterns suggested their aim, and the compass he'd received from his beloved queen confirmed it.

He checked the compass again just to be certain. They had taken a rather unusual place to hide themselves. He had covered the area in a wide arc, and the compass pointed the same way each time. Now it seemed to quiver, the arrow jumping. Something ominous was about to happen, and he didn't have any more time to waste. He pulled his weathered traveling cloak tighter to better conceal the blade strapped to his thigh. He'd have to use it sooner or later, he just hoped it would be later. There was a lot of bloody work to be done, and he was the one who had to do it.

He willed his feet to move forwards and carry him towards his destiny, fittingly into a garbage yard.

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~Garbage Dump, Alabar, Branchwood~

Orin:

Orin decided to keep silent. Now was definitely not the time to bring up that it had been he who found that letter. He felt guilty about his silence, not to mention the pukeweed and the blue flag, but he bore with it. This is what it meant to join the fray, and he was determined to prove his worth.

Then a man with great magical power had dropped into their midst. Even Orin understood that this man seemed to be more than a little mad. And that his words were untrue. It mattered a great deal whether the students were innocent or guilty.

At the same time, Orin felt the man begin to draw the raw magic around him. He knew then that the man had been doing this before he had come to the ground. Orin, who had always kept his magic as the tiniest spark within himself, buried it deeper into his mind where no other could sense it. He was not a mage or sage as the others around him were--those who could manipulate the energies of the earth and nature. He was a healer, and his magics were of the mind and body, and any who sought to break into his perfect little cage to find out just how deep his magic went would get more than they bargained for.

still, the court sage's madness frightened him. He caught his breath, then dropped the pukeweed and grasped for the green-eyed soldier's hand. When he found it, the soldier immediately took it up and gave him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He didn't let go, and Orin stood braver, facing the sage and still holding the blue flag near his lips.

Geoffrey:

When the healer had sought comfort, Geoffrey did not take that away from him, even if it was a childish gesture. The man would be daunting to those who didn't know him. Geoffrey, though, recognized him as the court sage. He was known to be eccentric, but Geoffrey had no idea why he was sticking his nose into this. Whether the sage saw the flash of recognition in Geoffrey's eyes or not mattered little. At least currently. His words were more important, as were the woman's words whose eyes the healer had stung.

"No!" he said suddenly. "Think it through. What can you do? If you go back to the Academy, or even anywhere in Atles, your release to Branchwood justice will be demanded at once. What will happen then? You are turned over and kept under closer watch than before and punished, as both parties are then assured of your guilt or want to quickly cover up a mistake for each country's sake. They could, alternatively, claim ignorance of your arrival and presence, which will be found out quickly by spies and even if not, will leave Branchwood extremely distrustful. Perhaps enough to demand a search. Not openly, mind you, but subtly, and then leave each country suspicious and wounded of the other. Or they could openly defy Branchwood's claims. Then what? They say the assassination attempt had nothing to do with them, have the letter waved in their faces and asked for an explanation, and before you know it, all negotiations and attempts at peace are broken down. That is sufficient cause to lead to war."

He looked at the lead woman of the group, then, voice getting stronger without changing in volume. "And so? You cannot return to Atles with good result. You will stay refugees and victims if you stay in Branchwood while the matter goes unresolved and mistrust grows like a rift between the countries. Many say that they wish to avoid war while they are actually trying to do nothing to prevent it. What, then, does that leave you with? Come with me, willingly, and show that you have nothing to hide or run from. You will have a protector, rest assured, who will say that this letter is false, and someone is plotting for war. Simply say that the box-maker sent you and that what you say is true. The Prince must listen to his nobles and military leaders. You are delegates are you not? You were chosen not for your own honor but the fact that you will put the purposes and safety of your kingdom above all else. You must do that now."

He stood, slightly out of breath, waiting for an answer. He had done much to try to win their trust and appeal to their reason, but he truly didn't know how much stock they put in him. Or in their kingdom, actually. He hoped it was enough, giving the healer another squeeze of the hand of reassurance, as much for him as for himself.

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((Meh, not my most eloquent of posts but I hope it works.))

Evie: ~Garbage Dump, Alabar, Branchwood~

Evie ran to cover Corrin, giving her a concerned look. "I'm sorry I'm not a healer." She glared at Orin. "Any more tricks like that and I won't hesitate to cut you."

She turned to Geoffrey. "Respectfully, I have been thinking it over." She paused. She wanted to say that she agreed with him and that those were all the reasons she refused to go back to Atles - but she couldn't exactly tell some knight that she instead planned to infiltrate the castle. She imagined that he would have some obligations then, such as, oh, stopping her.

Or maybe not. How much was she willing to gamble? Evie stepped carefully forward, as if they were rabbits that might run if startled - and she was equally careful when choosing her words. "Let's negotiate. There are two options on the table. Return to Atles or be taken as prisoners to Branchwood. I think everyone can agree that there are pros and cons to both. But are there are other potential solutions that we should be discussing?" Evie narrowed her eyes. "By the way, I never said it was my intention to return to Atles."

It was at that moment that another man appeared from the shadows. Evie recognized him at once - back when Atles and Branchwood had been on more diplomatic ground, she had met him at parties even, been introduced to him as a fair duchess and cousin to the princess. And she knew of his terrifying reputation. At the academy there was even a saying: "That one is going to be the next Sig of Branchwood." It meant that person was growing too powerful too soon and was absolutely not to be trusted. It was not a saying every attributed to Evie, who admittedly had to struggle with the most rudimentary of spells.

She grabbed Corrin's arm and motioned to Aerandir. "Okay, negotiations are over. We're running."

She stayed true to her word, making a beeline for the exit of the garbage dump.

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Love the hue.

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Aerandir ~Garbage Dump, Alabar, Branchwood~

Aerandir knew the guard was bluffing. He was good yes, good enough to even make him think twice about advancing any further. But Aerandir had been through much more than any here have been. Being at least twice the age of every human here.

He took anoter step forward when suddenly he felt the raw power of magic seemingly start to choke him. He turned his gaze just as a dark figure appeared. With out words Aerandir Knew who he was, All the elves knew who he was... and was not to be taken lightly. His gripp on his sword's leather grip grew even more tighter, as he ignored the discussion between everyone, his full attention on sig.

He was mad... but that didn't hinder him... it probably helped him. A worthy foe for a number of elves. But a Half elf... The advantage was on sig's side. His attention broke as he heard Evie's words... "Okay, negotiations are over. We're running."

"Smartest plan you had so far..." He whispered before slamming his left palm into his right which still held the Bastard sword. His body grew tense as he stood there, blocking the path of Evie and the other woman from the opponents, giving time for the other man who was supposivly on their side to run as well, he then spread his arm's wide. and with a grunt, slowly pulled them back together. Cracks and groans from the surrounding buildings could be heard. Then after a moment of that, the buildings began to collapse into the ally, to block the path. If the stones hit the others, great. if not, it would hold them for only a little.

He turn and sprinted towards Evie had run off to, Easily catching up. He then said quickly, "Go to the palace as you planned, I'll try to hold them off long enough." He knew his little spell wouldn't hold Sig long enough, might as well give his all to let the others escape. He slid to a stop, hearing the bells of the guards ringing, and the clanking of armored men running towards the collapsing buildings. He stood now, in the middle of a four way intersection of ally's awaiting Sig... or any guard to charge him.

He closed his eyes, his feelings streaching out to all things around him, this will be a battle that will test all of his skills.

(ugh, not the best, but I tried.)

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Athradien ~Garbage Dump, Alabar, Branchwood~


Athradien stood and only watched as the conversation between Evie and the Guard commenced... but then his senses began freaking out as a mass source of raw magical power came out of no where, this power was unmistakable... it was Sig. This was one of the few which tortured, or "played" with Athradien during his time in the jail, the memories which flowed back in his mind made him furious, almost to the breaking point where reason had just left and someone just killed ethics.

The only thing that broke his lock down stare at Sig was Evie's words of running... This being the smart thing. Athradien didn't immediately take off, though with one last look at Sig's face, he darted off after the others. He caught up with them without a problem, physically training with Elves had almost always helped him in the end, especially in times like these. No, he wasn't an elv, but he could compare to some of them at certain times.

They were only a small group of spell casters against an army of well trained guards.. and Sig. This wouldn't be an easy fight if it ever occurred. As he was running, he felt the buildings above him begin to cave in, though his pace didn't increase or dwindle for he was just behind the line in which they were falling. Athradien was actually looking for a fight now... his rage and furry burned inside of him as the biggest pyre ever conjured. When Aerandir stopped to hold back the guards, he walked toward him and ripped his sword out of its sheath, then reaching into his cloak and pulling a large bowie knife out with it. "I'll stay too..." He mumbled, his voice seeming rather... off.

He stood with his back to Aerandir, holding his sword in his left and his knife in his right, watching the streets as to find their first opponent. "What are we going to do if Sig shows up...?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder slightly before he popped his neck, a rather sickening chain of pops coming from it.

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