Silver Leaf Chronicles: War Beckons

The City of Egralia

The City of Egralia, referred to the Merchants Paradise, This city holds one of the biggest ports on Eleorna. Its streets bustles with the sound and sights of a its many different citizens. If they cared to look up at the walls however, they would notice the increasing numbers of guards stationed. And they would notice the mercenaries and hirelings at every corner. They would see that foreign vessels are docked in the part of port used exclusively by warships. Mandi Har pirates, Black Blood* Crossbones, Legato mercenary vessels all shared the waters. If they were able to percieve just how heir city had changed from a merchant port to fortress, they would certaintly act differently.

Eleorna, this jewel of a continent is the home for many wealthy and powerful city states. But the jewel is slowly cracking into pieces as Agren, the mighty nation of the southern Eleorna has begun a offensive towards its neighbors. Engli, Aurona, Vestilia have all fallen under the onslaught, their merchant kings and queens forced into the grip of the High Countess of Egralia*; Lady Mezellin*. The ambitious and young Countess have only barely grazed the throne, and yet she is currently leading a army several thousands men and women. Her knights now set their sight on a walled in city, one that is far better prepared then they could ever guess.

-x-x---x-x-

Agren Warcamp, within the borders of the now subdued Aurona city state.

“Why is that Egralia have never been taken again Uncle..” The Countess, her hair draped over her shoulders and the red sammet dress she is currently wearin. The woman, no more 24 years old had an air about her that would ensnare any man and woman. People followed her blindly it seemed. Everyone but her Uncle. The grizzled vet stared straight at her and his one good eye had nasty habit of never blink, so it was red as blood. As he began to speak, she listened intently. Her Uncle was fountain of martial wisdom.

“Egralia is surrounded by massive walls, and half of the city is situated on a small penisuela my Countess. Its commerce is second only to us and the Empire. As such there is no shortage of knights errands and other soldiers of fortune to defend them. They even contract corsairs and knon pirates to defend thei harbors.

“Are you telling me, Their entire army can be bought?” She raised a eyebrow as she asked this. The idea of buying themselves a vctory from within their own walls was most amusing.

“Not so, most have settled in a agreement with them, to point were they call it their home. Take the silver leaves for example. They would throw themselves at us in droves to stop us. And knowing the Silver Leaves, the losses we would take would be gruesome.” His voice betrayed a ounce of admiiration as he spoke of the mercenaries. The countess immedietly changed from listening idly to narrowing her eyes.

“...Wasn't uncle a silver leaf at one point.” Her voice was that low, dangerous tone she had whever she spoke about things that displeased her. He had seen people being forcefully drafted into the frontlines when she got into this mood.

“Aye.. And I can guarantee you, that if we were to attack carelessly, we would only see defeat.” His voice grew darker, gaining an edge to it that was far more commanding then before. His niece was forced to admit defeat. She could not handle her Uncle going into full lecture mode.

“So then we wait. There are still the matters of rebellions to handle in our newest provinces... But we need Egralias port in the future.” Her voice shifted back to that of idle boredom. Her uncle sighed, she still had ways to go.

-x-x---x-x-

Outside Egralia City, The Silver Leafs Bastion.

The main Head quarters for the silver leaves was a real fortress. There founder had been a noble who served Egralias old merchant king as a knight at one point. Wwhile they had started as small elite force fo knights who rode with those who could offer them gold, they never fought directly against Egralia. As mercenaries, their reputation was what to be expected.. Soldiers of fortune have never been ones to receive praise other then hen they were on the winning side of a conflict. And even then, their efforts were only for money. But the silver leaves, their reputation in Egralia was different. Here they were part of the standing army in times of crisis, and they held respect. And they were far more then just a group of greedy soldiers used to pad out a army of peasants. No these were all elites. You didn't join unless they found you worthy, and each one who got acceptedhad the talent to become something great. Generals, tacticians and royal councelors all rose to their position by being tested in conflict. Around the castle a lake and a thick and deep forest offers both fish and wild game for the hunters and the fishermen.

It was inside the walls of this mighty Fortress that the Silver Leaves latest batch of talent found themselves. Some here fresher to the guld then others. Some had lived long lives off conflict before reaching the guild. All of them are exeptional within their fields of expertise. One of these people is Iano. The tindra as currentlt on the court yard, sparring with his long time friend and mentor. And no matter how he tried, the old man was swatting away his attacks like it was child play.Becouse no matter how good Iano had become with the saber, this was the man who taught him combat in the first place. Every time he would sweep low, using all his speed and agility, the man would waste no movement or time and step back . Everything aimed over the waist was parried by the mans Long sword. And the old man was noticeably stronger strenght wise aswell.

“Your form is sloppy! You attack using only your arms, a saber needs full pivotal movement.” The old man moved suddendly, deflectin Ianos saber with ease and countering by thrusting his longsword straight for Ianos head. Iano, in a mere split second, fell back ward, twisting onto all four. His saber switched with the wooden practice cleaver as he recklesly swung upwards. The blade fell short of its target however,but it forced the old man having to forcefully throw himself backwards.

“Heh... You stick to that saber becouse you have an attachment to its graceful nature. But you are so much more natural using that orch cleaver.” Eigar shifted his feet and it became very clear to Iano that this battle was soon to be settled. He grinned, holding the cleaver close to his chest he dived and ducked under the old vets swings, rolling up behind him and swung. Only for the mans wooden sword to hit him in the solaplexus. There was a moment of stunend silent before Iano fell to the ground. Eingar only sighed. He had thrusted

“Dont swing so wide. Even f your opponent has their back to you, they may have a trick in store. And dont fall for feints like that, I knew you were aiming to duck under it.”

“I know your “Red Love” will make you far better then this instinctively. But you could easily die before you get the chance to slip into that. Now up to your feet, I am hungry.” It was as if he had not just beaten down his pupil. The mans actions eemed almost aloof.

Inside the mind of the defeated Tindra corsair things looked different. Carefree in general, he still hated loosing to the old man. Getting up to his feet and feeling his bruised stumach, Iano had to wince. The old man never held back, that blow was a killing blow. His mind was lifted at the promise of food however and he soon dragged himself off to eat aswell.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Act 1: Morning Routines

Welcome to the fray everyone! The Silver Leaves Bastion is quite large, and surrounded by a small village meant to house the families and servants of silver leafs. Those who do not own land within the walls are most likely housed within the barracks or in the keep itself. The town is bustling with life, and albeit far smaller then the capital, its worth exploring. Feel free to start any where within the village or the Bastion. Its approximately 7 in the morning, the sun is shining. Its typical early spring for a temperate area.

Locations : (Add your own if need be)

Spoiler

Castle:
Courtyard: Large and spacius, this area tend to work as a place for sparring and training drills.
The Inner Sanctum; A underground shrine dedicated to 7 of the 8 Infinites. Zails shrine is just outside the town, and is not officially recognized. This place has a a tending priest or Priestess of each Infinite. Among the catacombs connected to this shrine are various smaller shrines dedicated to smaller deities.
Mess Hall : This is where most mercenaries would eat when on duty. The mess hall is quite possibly the largest indoor area in the castle. The long tables and benches have been worn don by years of heavy festivities and drunken mercenaries.
Gathering Hall : his place is here most people come to discuss guild politics, change information and hold official ceremonies. The notice boards with requests can also be found here.

Town:
Barracks: There's a female part, and a male part of the barrack complex. The barracks are mainly just large houses with rows of beds and bed rolls. A few rooms for recreation and smaller courtyard.
Smithy: There are several black smiths in town, some of them old silver leaves that got to wounded to continue fighting. Here you can find most things you need.
Silver Leaf Plaza: Marketplace and general gather spot for the villagers.
The Grilled Goose: Large tavern near the Silver Leaf Plaza.
Outer Wall: Surrounds the village and joins with the Castle in each end.

Outside The walls:

Zail Shrine: Guarded by a dark priest at all times. The Shrine allows only worshippers of the dark god to enter. Considered something of an eyesore by most.
Laka Litna: A small lake connected to the sea by a small river.
The Woods: Stretches as far as the eye can see north where it joins with some mountains. Rich on wildlife and rich in dangers.

*See OOC for Countess details

The Grilled Goose

"Ah, the goose is killed in winter/
to be ready for the spring/
but my good old friend Vintner/
he claims to kill them with a wing/
of their own kind of beast/
a questionable win/
to be ready for a feast/
with the blood of its own kin?"

A rather terrible bard was warbling out some godawful song about geese, his good old friend Vintner, and trying, as best as he could, to rhyme despite his obvious lack of talent in that particular field of expertise. A man was sitting in front, watching this bard, with a wide-brimmed scarlet hat on and a grin stretched from ear to ear. Hearing this man wasn't what made him smile, instead, it was his plan to upstage the man that made his man so pleased. Finally, as the song ended, the man, with a swirl of his cape as he stood, leapt up onto the stage with a flourish, tossing the hat with aplomb as it landed atop some bar maid’s head, as he sent a wink her way with a flash of ivory teeth. Sweeping away any objections made by the amateurish bard, and quick enough to hide notice of the fact that he was a Shadowborne (the key being never let them see your eyes very closely….), he bowed deeply, and said, “Ladies, Gentlemen, and other sorts that may be consuming beverages at an unreasonably early hour today, while the sun is still up. I present to you a bard of less than notable presentation, awful rhyme and meter, a total lack of talent, and presumably, also a complete lack of that special substance we call sense.” The bard, flustered and angered at the interruption, stood up, opening his mouth as if he was to say something, only to be met with a finger to the lips by the gentleman, as he continued. “But vex him not, for he knows not what he does, like a babe lost in the woods.”

The bard gave an angry sound of protest at this, mostly drowned out by the smooth and silky tones of the black-garbed man who had so upstaged him, as he moved to swing a fist towards the man. Ducking deftly the fist, the shadowy gent merely said, “Ah! But my foe, we have yet to meet and be introduced! I am Alasdair Tremain. A thousand apologies for interrupting you, but you were simply so awful, I had no other choice but to do this to save myself. And hopefully others, as well.” The bard, obviously too enraged to care or comment, just began flailing at Alasdair, as he quickly, succinctly, and quite acrobatically dodged each blow in turn, offering witty comebacks at each swing. With each dodge and each comment, a cheer was elicited from the crowd, even the most drunk of the patrons stopping to watch this spectacle. “Oooh, you swing like you play your lute. This shouldn’t last long, then, should it?” After a while, the bard staggered back, his energy spent on trying to hit an opponent that seemingly couldn’t be hit, as Alasdair merely stepped towards him and placed a finger on his forehead, pushing him….. Over the edge of the stage. He had maneuvered the fight carefully so that the bard would end up in exactly that position, and he had succeeded on all counts. The bard toppled over into the crowd below, causing a loud cheer from the crowd as many people stopped and clapped. Alasdair grinned and bowed once again, saying, “Now, if the lady with my hat could come up here quickly….?” The barmaid was ushered to the stage, as he swept the hat (still ontop of her head) from her head and back onto his head. With a kneel, he kissed her hand, and said,

“Ah! Ye flower of beauty, thou grace mine eye/
Blinded by the brilliance of thy splendour/
All one might do in thy sight be but to sigh/
To be graced with presence from her/
Mine heart doth throb, mine eyes doth weep/
From the glorious radiance ye possess/
Forever more shall thine beauty keep/
Mine heart, and any others ye assess!”

The maid blushed, and fanned herself slightly, as Alasdair jumped off of the stage, walking amidst cheers and claps to the bar, as he sat himself down at the bar, saying, “Now, a drink of wine. The fine kind, if you would, I didn’t come here all the way to drink cat piss, now did I?”

"Dal… remind me again why we had to do this so early?"

Dalvarak looked over at his weary companion and shook his head. "Because my Dear, Master Gridell is the finest tailor in Egralia City and his time is in demand. I wanted my new clothes for this evening, and he was gracious enough to open up early to accomodate me." Gracious enough after a healthy bribe to his senior journeyman at least. Dal was standing up on a step, admiring himself in the three-fold mirror before him. He wore a maroon silk shirt with wide cuffs, a waistcoat of silver material with just a hint of shimmer to it, beige pants of the finest suede, and polished black riding boots with silver buckles. Over all the effect was quite nice.

"Yeah, I get that part." Evvie replied, rolling her eyes. Evvie was an escort, courtesan, lady of the evening, harlot... the name changed from location to location based on how well the profession was accepted. Dal had hired her services for the week from the Gilded Rose, where he'd been staying since arriving at the city. She was a hair over five feet tall and had just the right amount of curves... but somehow she didn't get much business. Dalvarak rarely found human women attractive, never understanding what human men saw in them. Most are just too gaunt and gangly... I'm afraid I'll break them. "What I meant," She continued irritably. "Was why do I have to be here?"

"You're here to tell me how handsome these clothes make me look of course."

Evvie stood up, her eyes wide and innocent. "Dalvarak Ebonblade, you are the most handsome dwarf I've ever seen." She moved closer to him as she spoke. "Those clothes make you look sophisticated and elegant with just the right amount of mystery and danger. In fact, I'd throw you on the floor right now and have my way with you if I wasn't afraid I'd ruin such beautiful clothing."

Dal laughed. "Ah Evvie, if Madame Ilise knew how good of a liar you were, you're rates would double overnight."

"Thank you." She said with a grin, flashing her dimples. "Now can we go back home?"

"Of course." Dal jumped off the step and turned to Master Gridell, who had been standing off to the side during the entire exchange, and somehow managed to keep a professional expression on his face. "You've outdone yourself Master Gridell, your reputation as the best is well deserved."

"Thank you Master Ebonblade." The middle aged tailor replied with no small amount of pride. "I'll have my apprentice wrap everything up and placed it in your carriage. Your total comes to 30 golds."

"Excellent..." Dal said, turning to admire himself in the mirror one last time. "Evvie, pay the good man."

"Um... Dal, we burned through the rest of the coin purse you gave me last night at dinner." Her tone, playful a moment before, now held the slightest trace of worry.

"Of course, I must have forgotten." He moved over to his own belongings and opened the coin purse on his belt, which was also empty. Flashbacks from their drunken escapades appeared before his eyes. Shades! How many bottles of Ogrian Amber did I buy last night? Hoping the worry didn't show on his face he moved to his emergency coin purse, which he was relieved to see was full.

"There we are." He said after counting out the man's money. "A pleasure Master Gridell, I'll be telling everyone how truly extraordinary your clothing is."

The carriage ride back to the Gilded Rose was quiet. Evvie was withdrawn as well, chewing her lip the whole ride, only responding half-heartedly to his attempts to engage her in a 'carriage ride romp.' As soon as they pulled up in front of the inn and brothel, Evvie hurriedly ran inside.

Dal shook his head, then dug a silver out of his sole remaining coin purse. "Just stay here my good man, something tells me I'll be needing your services again fairly soon."

When he walked inside the common room of the Rose, he found Madame Ilise and Evvie waiting for him. "Ah, Mistress Ilise... a pleasure to see you. Have I told you how well your girl here has been treating me? She's been truly remarkable."

"It pleases me to hear you say that Master Ebonblade, you have been an excellent patron over these last seven days. Although it pains me to bring it up, we have floated you on credit since the coin pouch you gave us the first night ran out... I don't suppose you'd be willing to settle up?"

"Certainly." Dal responded, reaching for his pouch. "How much-"

Madame Ilise cut him off. "67 golds, 3 silvers and 8 coppers.”

“Ah… ever so efficient.” Hiding a grimace, Dal counted out the exact amount which left his remaining funds looking woefully meager. “There you are Madame Ilise, paid in full.”

“Thank you so much Master Ebonblade, we do so appreciate your continued patronage.”

“Actually Madame," He replied lightly, hoping to salvage what he could of his reputation. "It was a fortuitous circumstance meeting you here to settle up, it appears I will be heading out with an assignment this very day. As much as it pains me to say it, I’m afraid I must depart the Gilded Rose and the pleasant company there in.”

“That’s such a shame Master Ebonblade." She replied in a professionally neutral voice. "We look forward to seeing you again when you return from your assignment, full of vigor and burdened with the spoils of war.

Or in other words, you're welcome back when you have money again. “And I you Madame.” Evvie looked slightly sad as she stood behind her Madame. The sight actually tore at Dal’s heart. God I‘m a sucker. “And you my lovely, I shall think of the time I spend with you fondly, and will dream of the chance to return to your arms every night while I am gone.” He reached into his alarmingly empty purse and pulled out his remaining seven golds. “Here is but a small token of my appreciation of your attentions this week. Let each one serve as a reminder of the seven wonderful days we’ve had together.” She took them and clutched them to her chest, and Dal swore he could see a tear in her eye. Either she’s entirely too sweet for this business or she’s an even better liar than I thought.

“Now Madame, I’m sure you won’t begrudge me the use of a pair of your servants, to help carry my chest’s down to my carriage would you…?”

It was an hour later that all of his belongings were loaded on the carriage and strapped down. “To the Silver Leaves Bastion, driver, and don’t spare the whip!” A grim expression and a nearly empty coin pouch were all that Dalvarak carried with him inside the carriage. Kieran had better have lined me up a mission, or there’s going to be Shades to pay!

Early morning again. Feral blue eyes watched as the world around her fell into a hush during those moments before the violet veil was cast away from her part of the world. The calm veil of Death and Shadow's serenity slipped away from the world and revealed the bright chaos of Life and Light. And so crouched low upon the rooftop of the barracks, she bowed her head. Wild blue eyes were knit closed by the furrow upon her brow as she posed as a Maersevir in mourning the loss of night; the absence of light representing the near perfection of Death. And so she held her pose as she done so many early mornings time and again before this one.

But unlike those times before this one, she rose in time with the orange disc as it peeked up over the horizon. From that disc shimmered rays of untouchable gold, burning away shadows over rocky mountaintops and lush canopy, permitting vibrant hues to reveal themselves in the naked day once more. Across the sky the the ends of wispy clouds ignited with fiery colour, blazing against the lightening blue sky. Arms spread wide, as if readying to hug the plump golden orb, powerful leg muscles easily lifted her from her crouched position. And to her full towering height now the she-beast stood. Her muscular frame tensed, distorting the tattoos upon her body as she flexed, bracing herself for the moment at hand. Her chin lifted exposing her throat, tempting the rising sun as she arched her back. At full extension, tendrils of blonde hair from the back of her head reached down to the roan shingles of the rooftop. And oh, the searing pain she had to endure.

Where a screech of agony should have been launched from her throat, only a hiss rumbled forth as the flames of Life and Light seared her soul. She trembled as the internal torture burned through her entirety, only the whites of her eyes showing as those wild azure irises rolled up into her head. Every strand of her fibre reached beyond its limit and when she could endure no longer, her humongous body fell prone upon the rooftop with a resounding thud.

Unseen ripples of heat from a soul on fire emanated from her body as she lay motionless. Should one touch her, her skin would feel scorching to the touch as if stricken by a deadly fever. And should one see her eyes, they would believe she was dead from said fever for only a blank stare into the void would they see.

The she-beast had failed again.

After a few blinks, the sneer was brought back to her mouth, returning her to this plane with that recurring realization. She was not given reprieve from the curse beset upon her by the Avatar of Life. She was still stricken with the touch of Death and Shadow; still deemed a Maersevir and thus deemed unworthy by Life and Light. A clenched fist pounded another shingle and shattered it. Bah, what was another part of the roof to replace today when tomorrow she would be up here to ruin some more of it with an angry fist yet again.

With a sigh, she rolled into a cross-legged seated position upon the roof of the barracks and looked up at the mocking fiery orb in the sky. A snort of defiance she gave it; one day she would prove herself to it. The she-beast's bosom rose and fell with another sigh. One day.

She grabbed the clothes beside her; the accepted female garb of her barracks. They were given to her when she first joined the Silver Leaves, and even worn in, the outfit still itched and rode up. But she knew that if she was to truly be accepted amongst their ranks, the giant warrior woman had to show she belonged and would wear the stupid rags. But not right now. Perhaps not ever again. Maybe it was time to move on.

---

There was a time when she would have seen the scrawny little thing as 'Marked' prey and readily tracked it, ran it down and savagely beat it into submission. For the better part of her life, such a creature of the Life and Light was such a deliciously sought after prize to be taken back live to her Mandi-Handlers. So needless to say when she first saw the healer, the urge to reach out and pummel the little creature and drag her it into the wilderness had been quite irresistible. Oh the look upon the she-beast's face and the depth of blackness in the centres of her blue eyes should have made the healer piss its bottoms.

But the urge had been short lived. For the female behemoth had fully caught her scent and immediately recognized it. It bore the smells of savoury incense, freshly bloomed flowers and the sunshine of a risen soul. And as she deeply inhaled again, she relented; those scents were like calming hands stroking her neck reassuringly. Those were the smells, one and the same, that wafted through to her from her vision. The wound up tension rippling that powerful frame had uncoiled slowly as she closed her eyes. With both nervous anticipation and stomach-churning dread, the she-beast knew right then and there this was where she needed to be. This was where she was to finally cast away her birth spirit and accept her new name. And so she had followed that little scrawny thing into the encampment of the Silver Leaves.



No one could understand her Maersevir 'speech' (a combination of clicks, hisses, growl sounds, whistles and hand signals) but the leaders of the Silver Leaves did patiently try to accommodate the woman whose birth name they knew not was 'Dayselay.' Yes, they knew she wanted to earn money as a mercenary, and they were willing to take the hulking she-beast on, but they needed to at least have her name. Dayselay broke her oath and tried to speak her name in the regular tongue. The rough sounds of air forced from her frustrated lungs that were repeatedly shaped by her annoyed tongue and snarling mouth finally elicited the little healer to hesitantly speak out a name. Many had gathered to try to guess the name of the she-beast, but the word that had uttered were sounds closest to her birth name and the Maersevir accepted it in both heart and mind but more importantly: accepted in spirit.

She wore the skins of ferocious animals each with wicked brands and twisted sigils etched upon them. She towered over many of them with her huge tattooed and scarred muscle bound frame. She had wild eyes hued like that of the blue yonder with an untameable pitch black screeching from the centres. Bones of many a victim did she have whittled and carved then pierced upon her face. She was a feared hunter, an unstoppable Maersevir, a killer she-beast that could tear a man in half. And the name she was bestowed by her new pack was that of something made out to be absolutely nothing like her. Thanks to the scrawny little healer, here amongst the famed Silver Leaf Mercenaries this monster was to be forever known as:


Daisy.


That was the first part of what she knew to be the ritual of naming. She had earned her 'spirit name' from this little thing. And as time passed, this she-beast, this... Daisy, had stalked this healer from the fringes. She studied the healer like she would prey or game in the wild. The habits, the routines, rituals and paid respects she saw. Those that it would take kindly to, Daisy did note. And those that did not take kindly to it, Dayselay noted as well. And day by day, Daisy encroached closer upon this strange creature's person.

Perhaps the timid little thing was not too fond of the she-beast, however, as time passed, it began to learn basic 'speech' of the Maersevir. And after the communication barrier had been shattered, Daisy began to take a true liking to them. But before anything substantial transpired between them, the healer was packed and ready to leave to goddess knows where. But where ever it went, Daisy would be sure to follow; what good were the shiny representations of wealth out here, when there was something more tantalizing and much more precious offered by the healer... something called redemption.

Linwë had slipped into the Silver Leaf bastion only a few nights previous, her form embraced entirely in an Ashen gray cloak. It swooped down to her –oddly- covered feet, it licked at her fingertips when she walked, and it shaded the entirety of a sun-ravaged face, only occasionally did the hood fail to cover a set of lips, slightly more caramel tinted than the rest of her features, and the tribal printed green stains of the muckeye tree that warded off any reflection of sun that could denote skin tone within leaves. Her weaponry hung beneath the cloak as well, and while she would have thought such a ridiculous garb would draw more attention she was starting to feel that the people of this town did not believe in any ‘normal’ dress-code. She couldn’t be charged as any more conspicuous than the dwarf she had watched last night, drinking heavily in bright colors, loud on so many levels. She had felt confident that her quick surveillance of the town, in which she walked slowly and purposefully when unable to hide, and darted through alleys and the silent reveries of courtyards and open fields when no one was watching. But of course, someone was always watching.

She had awoken in the morning, her nose lifted to the air, breathing deeply, she could still catch the scent of Iano, though she had yet to see him, there was no doubt to whether or not he was here. But this morning she felt a more overwhelming since of closeness to the people of the town than she normally did when so close to the city. The forest seemed different, and while scent was a tricky thing so near a port and bustling metropolis, the animals revealed much more. There was too much silence in her area, but maybe the animals had grown bored with her presence and had made themselves busy elsewhere? She gripped at a smaller tree limb below the one she was sleeping on and began her descent to the forest floor.

”Why hello there!” She immediately turned towards the voice, a fluid movement accompanied by her body curling close the tree and the limb she had been holding, creating a smaller target instinctively. A barely audible hiss came through her lips, not savage, but more a perturbed dispelling of air. You would be hard pressed to guess whether the noise was intended for the man below her or for herself for not noticing him previously. The man simply chuckled and waved a graceful arm denoting that she should join him. ”I didn’t mean to surprise you. Let’s talk.” As she neared the ground he turned his back to her and began to head towards the castle. She stopped at the bottom of the tree, glanced back up into it as if it may hold a solace, a place to hide, but then curiosity got the best of her and she began to follow slowly behind the man.

They started at about 20 paces apart, and through the man’s imperceptible slowing and her own twitchy rigid movements, instinctively forcing her to want to remain near the largest of the trees in case he turned on her, they were closing the distance. Once she was about 10 paces behind he began to talk, so softly that the 10 paces quickly became 5 and so now they were almost walking together, each of her senses skittering over him.

…”While you are good at hiding, we are better at finding, it’s what we do here at Silver Leaf.” He chuckled again as if he was constantly amusing himself, or perhaps he was amused with her, more likely himself. [b]”Well, it is one of the things we do here at Silver Leaf.” He braved a glance behind him towards the girl, who stopped immediately until he turned forward and then they continued on. She raised her cloak around her head as they neared the walls. The man had continued talking but she was barely listening, instead reading his body language. He walked lazily, as if on a stroll with a good friend, his arms crossing behind his back. She had never seen someone so light on their feet it seemed and she was amazed when he had stopped and was looking back at her again, only about 2 paces away.

”Don’t you have a name?” She made a face, what a stupid question, everyone had a name. Even the streams and bugs and mountains had names, but then he was shaking his head and she realized she must have missed something else in his speech; perhaps he had offered his and was expecting hers in return? He simply began walking forward again, but she was paying more attention now. ”I guess it isn’t important, we will get to that. More importantly Wild’Har what brings you here?” He’d stopped trying to face her when he spoke, but she had moved to just slightly behind his shoulder, so the interaction was less awkward. ”I’m sure your intentions are not that of a spy, or our conversation would be going much differently, but it’s so rare that your kind comes this way. It must be for some great purpose.”

It would be a lie to say that his last words didn’t provide a little sting, her hooded features even flashed a grimace, but she finally spoke. She knew throughout her core that she didn’t really belong here, but wasn’t she just all sorts of lost. ”Purpose is hard to verbalize.” Even though her answer was vague and over all unuseful the man beamed noticeably and gave another one of his chuckles. ”She speaks! And yes, how very right you are.” Then the man grew quiet, it wasn’t uncomfortable, though she seriously doubted he had many of these moments. She continued to follow him, and they continued to not speak until they reached the entrance to the actual grounds of Silver Leaf. He gestured flamboyantly at the sprawling grounds and the fanciful arm movement slipped into a brief bow. ”Welcome to Silver Leaf, my lady. Would you care to join me in my office for a chat?” She didn’t answer him with any more than a raise of one of her eyebrows, a gesture hidden behind the hood of the cloak. Her silence seemed to be enough of an answer as he started towards one of the buildings.

And that is how she had found herself pacing on beautiful wood floors with her dirty feet back and forth in front of the small window that overlooked the courtyard where Iano sparred with an elderly man. She wasn’t just watching, she was gauging, and the elderly man seemed almost mesmerizing in his skill. The man she had followed from the woods cleared his throat and she glanced back at him for only a second before returning her gaze to the window and troubling her lower lip with canines that were noticeably sharper than some of her Hari cousins. He had been talking and when Iano and the other man began leaving the courtyard she returned her attention back to the man, whom was still talking. She realized this man had garnered some respect, and was starting to realize respect was nothing something given easily in a place such us this, so she attempted to pay more attention, though all she wanted to do was see Iano. It had been a long time, and for this lengthy amount of time she had built him up in her head, continually thinking he would have the answers, or at least an answer.

”Purpose.” The man had finished something important, and now she regretted not paying more attention. ”Purpose?” She asked, sure that she was making him repeat something he had just said. To his credit he simply chuckled and shook his head. ”Silver Leaf offers purpose, and training.” He looked towards the window pointedly, having made the assumption that she had been intrigued by the sparring, which was half true. ”Is that what you are looking for Wild’Har? The skills of your people are noteworthy, and I am sure that we could find a place for you amongst our ranks.” She thought for a moment, she had no allegiance to anyone, she had no people waiting for her, she had no home. It would be a lie to say that she didn’t miss the camaraderie of having ‘her people’ and the protection of a group. This place, looming on the brink of everything she needed and everything she despised may just have to be an answer, an answer for now.

”If I want to leave?”

“I will personally escort you right back to that tree in which I found you.” A slight smile crept over her lips and that seemed answer enough to gain another jovial laugh and an extended hand from the man. ”Welcome aboard then. I’ll have to go meet with Isabelle, to be sure she knows you are here, but to get everything finalized. Why don’t you go wander around? Get acquainted with the area. People should be heading to the mess hall.” He finally decided to drop his hand since she had stood there, glaring at the awkward custom, one she had observed but didn’t rightfully understand. ”Anyways, do tell me your name?”

”Linwë Anwamanë.”

“Excellent. Let’s say tomorrow morning, come back here to meet me, after breakfast, Gah I hate early mornings. I’m sure you don’t mind, but then again you sleep in a tree. After breakfast is good? Splendid. I’m off to meet Isabelle. Can I call you Lin? I think I’ll call you Lin.” She hadn’t heard very much of what he had said, it seemed to all come out in one exhale and truly she was slightly impressed by his lung capacity. He must be an amazing swimmer. She tilted her head as she followed him into the hall and he continued talking even as he made his way out of earshot. Interesting man, she wasn’t necessarily fond of him, but something about him, especially as she heard his chuckle even around the corner and down the hall, caused a bit of a smile to accompany her as she made her way to find Iano.

Even when moving down the hallway of the building, her form seemed to sway with a hunter’s ambition. Graceful and silent she slipped down the corridor, raising a swarthy nose towards the air and inhaling deeply yet rapidly, testing the air around her for the lost Iano. Fingers reached out to trace nails gently along the stone walls that lead toward the mess hall. She had removed her hood at the request of the awkward man whom had found her and while he had told her this was a safe place she couldn’t help but cringe and recede towards the wall when two Silver Leaf occupants moved past her. Their eyes seemed to judge her frame and movements and she was tempted to jump out at them, if only briefly, to test their own reactions and gain some judgment on the pair. She had been sure not to lower her gaze, nor give any indication of weakness, and now her back was arched, so that her shoulders pulled the cloak back and gave light to the green tinted protector tattoo’s of her people that riddled a barely clothes form. It also allowed a brief glimpse of the double edged axe that straddled her hips, almost entirely bare like the rest of her form.

When she finally discovered the mess hall, which seemed to be swelling with people by the second, she found Iano immediately. His back was to her and feelings of apprehension began to sweep over her like waves. It was different than the way she felt in the cities, with the people whom she mentally condemned, this was more child-like, more innocent. She was nervous; what if he didn’t remember her? what if he viewed her as some stalking beast that needed to be put down?

Iano felt strange. He was idly eating with his mentor when something pricked the back of his conscious. Something was tugging, and he felt a small smile force itself on his lips- call it Tindra intuition, a bond or sheer instinct. Whatever it was, it was soon replaced with the feeling of being observed intently. And that, was a feeling he hadn't felt in while. With the slightest grin, he turned to look over his shoulder. The sight was one he didn't expect. A woman, wild in looks, with trophies of the her vanquished foes decking out a strong and imposing form. Imposing not in size, there was another wild soul that her beat in that regard. But imposing in the way she moved, in the way the ferocious aura of destruction that clung to her.*

A wild elf as humans called them, but one who embraced only the fury of destruction, and not the serenity of creating. As he himself was a being who lost himself to bloodshed and combat, and this was something he found most beautiful. Eyes that Iano knew so well, met his, his own red glimmered with emotion. He had talked to her for many a night, back during his corsairs days. Poking her, and trying to liven her spirit with stories of his youth. She had been like stranded fish, she was in a place here she could do nothing but to struggle. It had begin to disgust him, how the Mandi treated their wild brethren. So one night, he released her. He had remembered her pressing up against him taking a deep breath and then scurried off. Shortly after, the mutiny had happened and he too was off the ship. But was that how she found him? Trough a scent? How long had she looked for him?*

There was a slight pause as everyone else were trying their best not to stare at the one who just entered. And then they tried to decipher the mood. Something they found was a near impossibility with the way the Tindran boys eyes almost sparkled with life all of the sudden.

“Lin!” He suddenly burst out, a look of confusion and happiness both on his face. Confusion as to how she ended up in them mess hall, happiness that she did. Iano spread his arms in a welcome to embrace. A habit of his people. Always open your heart, arms and purses for those who traveled to see you, such was the custom of his tribe. This went double for friends.

As his gaze found her, relief came like a tsunami and destroyed any apprehension and nervousness that had previously resided within. A whimper slipped from dark caramel colored lips as she pumped her feet against the ground towards his open arms. She was quicker than one might expect, though the chance that any of these people had been close enough, long enough to a Wild’Har to build expectations was slim. Oddly her movements still had the silence of a hunter and those who had not been watching the blur of motion would not have expected that all of a sudden Iano was tackled, rather forcefully, into his table at the mess hall.

While she hadn’t extended any brute force into the greeting, she had put all of her bodyweight behind it, so that both of her legs had pushed into his thighs. His head slammed into the food he had just been eating and her own followed close behind, cradling into his nape and surrounding the two of them with a mess of long dark hair. She pressed her nose close to him, absorbing the smell as she had so long ago, and he would be able to hear a sudtle whimper of excitement that eased into a giggle.(something that will rarely come out of a Wild’Har, it simply wasn’t a form of expression they used and she would later blame on her recent interaction with the chuckling man.) She ignored the reactions of startled and angry eaters that had just had their breakfast rudely interrupted, some of which were now cursing at the two. Others had immediately gone for their weapons and then a few had begun to laugh at Iano’s (mis)fortune. She ignored them in favor of licking a course tongue against the oddly tinted skin of his cheek and then raising her head just enough that she could look at him, the ogre’s tooth that hung from her forehead tickling across his nose.

Her fingers dug into his arms, muscular from training and natural prowess, as she pushed herself off of him to get a better look. He looked healthier, happier, than their last encounter which kept the smile printed on those lips of hers.”Iano.”A hand shot from the mass of the cloak, naturally lengthy nails tipping digits that seemed both spiderlike and strong in their movements and consistent bow and arrow usage offered him assistance up.

Iano dragged himself to half sitting poisition, there was porridge and berries all over his back and table. The voarse oak was painted with blue berries and some poor comrade in arms down the table had orridge in his lap. Yet, in the commotion his mentor had managed to move out of the way. It was a good thing he had trained so hard this months or the would have been a lot less happy about the pounce. Instead his reaction was that of pure joy, Iano held her to him in close embrace as she took his scent. He giggled himself at the way she showed effection, he found it far more genuine then the way the so called civilized folks did it. As he was helped up he was positively beaming “You found me like I know you would” His voice was so very soft, nearly a whisper, meant only for her. Despite their interactions at sea having been initially one sided, there was a bond. They both had suffered onboard the ship. The Tindra had only been kept alive for his ability to loose himself in battle, treated more like a tool then a crewmember. And the way they had treated Lin had been far worse. So their bond was one of mutual suffering and trust. And one of genuine kindness as the Tindra had managed to get this wild ones spirits reignited. He had felt a great sense of loss when he let her go. Thinking originally that he never would get to see her again.


His hand grabbed hers as he got up and pulled wit surprising strength into another embrace. This one was less... abrupt but still loaded with emotion. He rested his forehead against hers, eyes meetng and conveying more then words ever could. “Yahna” he spoke finally. In his language it meant something like a friend, but for Tindra it meant someone whom your life was entwined with. Be it a comrade in arms, a childhood friend or a lover or a blood brother. The word encompassed all of it. And it was something he had repeated to her when she had been in the cage. They were Yahna, her suffering was his and her quest to rid the world of its impurity was his as well. They gave purpose when the other was lost.”

He felt a few distrusting eyes still, people whom most likely fought the wild elves at instances. Luckily his Mentor had that covered.

“You know.. She'll be sleeping in your bed until we can fix one in the female barracks, kid. You keep the strangest company.”

“My house can house two people” He chuckled lightly. “I didn't spend all my gold on it for nothing. Although, I dont know how she likes actual houses..”

[Collab with Nox]

The sun's gentle embrace was one that even a Mandi-har could not help but adore. The feel of Suin's gentle kiss against his darkened skin made the small hairs of his arms stand on end. On his perch at the top of the Castle's high walls, Dra'lix felt a sense of welcomed solitude. His race had a certain reputation that he could certainly not deny as deserving, and being a mage, a lot of negative stigma was placed on his shoulders. Combine the two, and the fact that the relatively young Mandi was not particularly fond of the common folk became a rather rational response. Hell, he often walked around in a hooded cloak, in a vain attempt to hide his very race. Sadly though, the only way to hide the colour of his skin was to make sure he was the most conspicuous person in the entire crowd.

It was in dawn's early kiss that Dra'lix let his magic run free. He breathed out lightly, his breath misting before his eyes in the higher altitude that the castle's wall provided. In front of him he solidified the mist into a ball of ice, using the magic from his core. He whispered to the sphere of ice, the stale ball of magic changing form, shaving itself as he levitated the small sphere in front of his face. Dra'lix quickly Breathed more fuel and ice to expand and make the small sculpting more extravagant. Soon the ice ball became an icicle, and eventually it took shape, an entire block of ice, like granite floating in front of him. The pillar of ice shaved itself, forming a person: The form of a shaded woman, shrouded in the cold ice. Soon the pillar became covered intricate with features. The Mandi brought the statuette closer, resting it atop the wall as he worked in a blind fervour. Crafting and expanding every ideal and feature onto the block of ice. Slowly it took form. The shrouded woman became the shrouded god. Mortina's cruel and unbiased visage was encapsulated in the ice that Dra'lix had crafted.

With a finality of it all, Dra'lix stepped forward, looking into the empty face of the goddess. He moved a single thumb up to the pendant he had placed over the shrouded bosom of the god. He etched in a single rune. The rune gave a small piece of magic to the statuette as he bowed his head, whispering a silent prayer to the unbiased queen of the final rest. The process gave him a renewed sense of faith. That same sense would allow him to stoically ignore any of the expected jibes from the common folk: So many would whisper cruel slanders and insults, of his 'foul race' and his 'moral-less people.' There were many things he had heard, and yet So few brought reactions from the Mandi-har. In fact, since joining the Silver leaves, he had only reacted twice to insults which, considering the frequency of the insults was an impressive feat.

Dra'lix rose from his perch, looking around the top of the wall. No one seemed to be watching him: which he was thankful for. Dra'lix stepped up to the statuette, raising his fingers to his own lips; he kissed them before placing them atop the Faceless visage of the goddess of death. Mortina's icy form suddenly shattered, a cloud of ice raining down over the wall and shifting into the form of snowflakes. Dra'lix thought it a fitting tribute to his patron god. Even the idol of Mortina should someday fall to death and destruction, as should all things in the world.

Dra'lix stretched lightly, trying to regain his full movement. It only just dawned on him that he had spent a large amount of time in a single position. He was stiff and needed to get some movement in his joints. After a few minutes of getting life back into his limbs, Dra'lix donned his drab, brown hooded cloak. Hiding his White hair, red eyes and tell-tale Dark skin form plain sight. If he was lucky, he'd manage to avoid any insults today: even if he did, it would only be due to the cloak he wore. At least until he got to the Silver Leaves.

Unlike the common folk, most people in the Silver Leaf group had managed to accept him past his skin tone and racial links: most just knew him as the new mage, but a couple might have heard about the incident with the drunken Luni. Rumours had flown about why the man had been found encased in a solid block of ice: but when the reason was actually revealed that the Luni had called him a 'dirty Necromancer', most people just considered the Luni lucky.

Slowly, Dra'lix descended the castle wall, via a flight of stares and stood in the market district. Dra'lix then chose to make his way towards the mess hall, the closest thing the Silver Leaf guild had to a social area, and Dra'lix made it a fair way there, before a peddler tried to sell him the latest in what he claimed to be cutting edge anatomic elixirs. As much as Dra'lix wanted to stay in the shadows, the peddler was not relenting, so he snatched a bottle of the man's elixir, popped the cork and sniffed its content, his face contorting in what looked to be disgust, hidden behind the cloak he wore. "Sir, this brew is, for lack of a better term: Horse crap. You've mixed Julipa herbs with what I'm guessing is the oil from a Si'lahr Desert snake. That alone means that all this potion will do is stink. It wouldn't surprise me if you slipped actual horse crap into this potion just to bolster the volume." Slowly, the merchant's face dropped, a few customers backed away from the bazaar, laughing at the red faced little human. The peddler swung a punch at the Mandi-har, but his fist only connected with air. Dra'lix's head had moved back to dodge the blow, removing the hood he had covered his face with. The Mandi-har had already drawn the shortsword he carried with him, pointing it at the man's throat with a look of contempt in his dazzling, gem like eyes. "I advise you don't try and punch me again. Most Mandi-har would have gutted you like a trout by now. Compared to my kin, I am being merciful." Dra'lix sighed, withdrawing the blade and re-sheathing it. The square murmured around him, whispering things. The dark skinned elf reached into a pocket and withdrew a silver piece, placing it in the merchant's palm. "I'm going to leave now. I'd appreciate you not mentioning this to anyone. Not that you will, considering you broke the first law by attempting to punch me." Dra'lix sighed, leaving the human in shock as he put his hood back over his head. Most Mandi-har took pleasure in the effect their race had on others. Dra'lix just saw that as ignoring disdain. Maybe it was his half-breed nature: but Dra'lix thought that Mandi-har had made ruined their reputation, and the minority who didn't want to be the centre of attention were forced to live in an unwanted spotlight.

Arriving at the Silver leaf complex, Dra'lix let out a contented sigh. He lowered the hood once more, letting his long braid of silver hair flow down his back. It was comfortable to once more feel Suin's kiss against his ebony skin. Amongst the Pantheon of gods, Suin was amongst his favourite: something else that was uncommon amongst his peers. In honesty, he favoured the entire pantheon, giving only greater respect to his patron god: as well as a disdained for one other. As he became lost in his thoughts, he accidently bumped into a Veteran of the Silver leaves: A grizzled dwarf missing a most of his left fingers. The Dwarf was a good sport about it: not insulting his race, his appearance or his magical inclination. The Mandi-har sighed once more, happy to be in a place that could accept his race. It reminded him of home, and with his thoughts on home, he thought of his parents; His wise father, who raised him as a proud but fair Mandi, and the mother who had birthed him, the woman who had crafted his body and cradled his soul. He smiled, thinking of the forest his mother had loved and lived in, even now.

Making his way through the Silver district, he arrived at the Mess hall, walking in to recognise one person, the golden skinned Tindra known as Iano. He had been amongst the Silver leaves for only a brief week, but he had noted the man as some sort of swordsman: he knew very little else: Partially because he had not found any real common ground with any of his peers. His eye then settled on the Wild’Har woman, a smile etched into his face at the sight of her. He didn't recognise the woman, but noted her to be of a creature of both beauty and grace. If she were not speaking with Iano, he would have approached her. Instead, he decided to just settle on watching the scene. He strode over to grab himself a small piece of fruit and a drink of water. He had eaten a small meal when he awoke at the Sun's very rise. Now he was just filling the hole. He contemplated going to speak to both the 'newbies.' But he didn't want to ruin a scene of such intimacy. He especially didn't want to bring displeasure to a woman who he shared a mixed heritage with. His respect for the fairer gender was far too great for that. Dra'lix decided to take a solitary perch, finding a seat in the corner of the Mess Hall, away from the greater mass of people who sat around the hall and close enough to the door, the Mandi-har started to hum to himself. A gentle song on his lips; so serene and simple was the song, yet its simplicity didn’t belittle the beauty of his tone. It betrayed one of his other great loves. Thankfully, most would ignore the sound, as the Mess hall was filled with people that would otherwise be concentrating on making their own noise. It didn't take long for Dra'lix's tone to change; his finger tapping a gentle drumbeat and the humming soon converted into quiet singing. He was no bard: but his voice had a calm serenity to it.

This song in particular was one close to his heart. An old lullaby his mother would sing to him in the decade that his parents had lived together, just after his birth. The song was a soothing account of a warrior lady who fell in love with the moon. The actual effort of singing gave him a sense of comfort, a feeling of extraordinary calmness that eliminated the anxiety of outside walks. No one had ever really taken long enough to ask the Mandi half breed why he sung, which made explaining it far easier. What was easier than not explaining something awkward?

Spear on shoulder, striding with purpose, and staring with burning intensity the she-beast marched out out of the all-female barracks. Chin lowered slightly, Daisy hissed out a warning to the sentries at the towers as they stared wide-eyed at the woman warrior dressed up in the same get up as the day she walked in here but only a short time ago. Nervous hands went to bowstrings having no idea what the strange and unpredictable 'wild-flower' was up to. One moment she could be dancing and stamping her way to a dervish in the downpour, finding a rhythm and flow only she could hear or understand, the next moment she could be holding you by your throat, choking the life out of you for some unknown insult that meant life or death to her.

Several signals were let out and Daisy knew that there would be some that would try to stand in her way and attempt to stop her 'unauthorized leave.' A lip with all carved bone piercings returned to their rightful spots smirked. 'Try.' 'Attempt.' Oh, how those words rung true. Once the she-beast put her mind to something, she clamped down with a frothing maw, locked her jaw and would not let go. Daisy was leaving to follow after the healer, fuck you very much.

Daisy breathed out an extended hiss and clicked four times. She then beat her shield four times again. One resounding slam of her spear to her shield for each of the souls she would release to the other side should they raise arms to her. One warning exactly for each of the four that tried or attempted to block her path.

A slow gutteral growl rumbled from deep in her throat as she took two more paces and stopped dead in her tracks.

“'Morning to you, Miss Daisy...” said the lead of the quartet with a faux politeness in his voice and a stuffiness muffling his words a bit. This guy hated her. She had broken his nose for reaching out and touching her. But no male ever touched the she-beast's throwing arm without permission. Did he not know how to treat a woman? Actually, he did. Mister Montesor was a good guy really. Polite, respectful and a stand-up role-model of a guard. He just made the mistake of trying to shake her hand. Twice. “But you know new recruits are not allow off compound without express consent from superiors...”

Daisy's fingertips tapped the wooden shaft of her spear in sequence once. Two small kisses into the air and a 'haaaaa...' sound from her mouth then a grin. Montesor just scowled in confusion and looked to his left then his right. His men could only offer rolling eyes or shrugs. Daisy repeated her sounds and grinned again: 'Get the fuck out of my way asshole...'

“I'm very sorry, Miss Daisy, but I'm afraid I do not understand you... so unless you can communicate in a way we can understand each other, I'm afraid, I'm going to have to get you to turn back around and peacefully go about your business in the compound...”

He was a big man, well trained and solidly built and surrounded by similarly built men, but they all flinched when she brought her hand up to her chin and began scratching just under the intricate pattern tattooed there. Wild eyes looked off at an angle to the mocking sun in the sky taking a moment to consider her response.

Oh, maybe they could not hear her since she did not speak like a 'normal' person here. Well then maybe she would show them what she meant and make sure they heard her loud and clear.

Slowly her finger dropped from her chin, a knowing glow in those wild blue circlets flashing at the men and promptly the she-beast marched up to them as they backpeddaled slightly, Montesor's men cringing behind him in a tight V; her antlered helm made her seem ten feet tall right now.

One hand pantomimed pushing slowly at Montesor's right shoulder and he moved to the left, her spear arm pantomimed pushing slowly at the guard off to his left and he moved to the right. Both men had cringed and held a disgusted look on their face as if Daisy's touch would melt holes in their bodies.

A gap now created, Daisy stepped forward between the men and repeated her sounds and grin in a drawn out manner, as if slowing down her sounds and grin would help them understand her better: 'Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Way. Ass. Hole.' She opened her eyes wide and overexaggerated a slow lifting of her chin and just as slow lowering of said chin. The men half-heartedly copied her over-exaggerated motion of nodding an affirmation.

“Move... aside...?” offered one of the men timidly. Daisy smiled and tossed him a blue-eyed wink. Nervous laughs and sighs of relief in return.

“Ooooooohhhh... I get it...”

“Yeah, so two kisses and an exhale means..”

Two kissing noises and a 'haaaa...' noise sounded out.

“Don't forget the grin, right?”

“Oh see that Monty... and you said she was just a mad bitc--”

“Neversaidshewas...! Very well then. Miss Dai-- oi! Where are you going...? Get back here, you!”

Daisy paused mid-stride then turned around, a finger pointing out the exit, a perplexed look on her face. They just stepped aside for her...

Four hands fumbled for their weapons and the she-beast hissed as she lowered herself, readying her spear. All five of them squared off, set to do battle, bodies tensed and waiting for the other side to act first.

Then Daisy relaxed her pose and began whistling a tune. She pointed a long tattooed finger back towards the barracks, a smile overtaking the pierced whistling lips. The men looked at each other then finally relaxed as well. Montesor tensed up, reaching for his weapon again when Daisy made two kissing noises, an exhale and a toothy grin.

“Oh nonono... not falling for that again, you mad bitc--”

“Monty... uhhh, Mister Montesor, sir... she wants the lot o' us to move aside so she can get back in...”

Daisy flashed a blue-eyed wink to the same guard that deciphered her command earlier and he stepped aside. Both the she-beast and the guard slowly made an over-exaggerated nod at each other as Daisy strode back in.

“What the actual fuck, lads...” said Montesor, shaking his head, eyes closed in frustration and fully facepalming. Daisy continued back towards the mess hall whistling that same tune that her keen ears had picked out, spear slung over her shoulder, a triumphant swagger in her shapely hips. “That is one mad, mad bitch...”

“And just like a dame...”

“...she just can not make up 'er mind...”

“Nice, big biteable ass though...”

All slacked poses and tilted heads of the three guards instantly became much more respectful, backs straight and soldier like again when Daisy flipped them the bird.

“...and a blessedly nice set of ears on that Miss Daisy... I'm sure we know exactly what she said that time, eh lads...” chuckled Montesor.

---

Outside and off to the right of the mess hall door, Daisy leaned her tattooed and muscular form up against the worn wooden planked wall. Blonde locks swayed gently as she rocked her helmetless head side-to-side in time with the alluring tune inside, wild eyes captured by her thick lashed lids. Yes, it was merely a male singing, however, the tune it held was well practiced and driven from its soul. Was this really going to deter her from following the benevolent healer away from the compound?

A deep inhale did she take and just before exhaling, she took another several sets of quick inhales, sniffing out the air. Behind the iron bound door, beyond the intoxicating smell of food and drink, around the sour smell of male bodies, there was a wild-smelling thing inside there. Daisy felt her hackles raise from the back of her neck. Another female hunter. It came here without alerting its presence to Daisy.

The healer could wait. If need be, Daisy would track it down, run it down and protect it later on. Right now she needed to investigate this new comer and more than likely beat the ever living shit out of it if it decided to give a little attitude and not show proper respect for her territory-- suddenly, the singer hit a soulful note and held it for several beats and it melted away Daisy's aggression the way a mother turn her baby from screaming holy terror to bubbling, cooing cuteness. Wild, stormy blue circlets were now coloured like a placid lake under an endless Summer sky. The she-beast sighed with a contented smile... fuckin' music. It would be the death of her.

Spear and shield were left respectfully outside as Daisy opened the door and eyed the room. Oh she saw the new wild-smelling female, but made sure she averted any eye-contact as she sat down. It was just a little shit female anyway and besides, Daisy was feeling relaxed and was actually not hunching her shoulders attempting to shrink away from the crowd right now.

In the mess hall she had always felt out of place. It was rather disconcerting for her to sit at a table and eat, but she knew that this was 'how things were on the outside' and that she had to at least try to cope with basic table manners here. But still she found her way to the far corner, away from the main crowd and opposite to the male singer, a dark-skinned-Luni of some kind. She would try to acclimatize by just sitting here for the moment and letting herself absorb it all in before getting up to collect her fair share of food after the talented male singer ended its song.

Perhaps even introduce herself to the other wild-smelling female... politely and without driving her fist into a face for a change.

“Get out of here and run, run straight to that giant bloody castle where people mill outside all day long. Ya can't miss it girl its a focal point of the town, oh and take this. It mightn't get ya passed the guards, no that's up to you girl but get it to one of them there higher ups and you'll see what doors this old man can open. They'll take care of you there, honest...oh and Lady, thanks for giving this old man a good memory. You've grown so pretty.” The old man's withered, wrinkled hand fell from the woman's cheek who lay knelt beside the tiny, inoffensive body of an old human. Time had not been kind to him and yet he was smiling as his eyes rolled into his skull and fell shut for a final time. People around them stopped for a moment but hurriedly kept moving upon seeing the wet eyes of the heterochromia iridium daemon spawn child crouched over an old man with blood on her hands and jacket and a large wound in the man's side.

Children cried and women hid their little ones faces in their skirts as the woman rose from the corpses side and turned towards the town folk. Her voice was delicate and sweet in the quiet of the early day and she whispered, “I was never here.”

Had he played her? She had the piece of paper open in her hand, torn and nicked, crumbled and wrinkled and in the centre it only bore a single name. One that was written in a cursive script all pretty and central as if it were some big deal. Insane, he was definitely insane, he was old and doddery, how the hell is this going to get me in there?

Two days had passed since she had held her dying friend in the alley of a town not too far away, now she was standing in the shadows across the street from what was certainly an impressive castle in her opinion. It was guarded as if it were the very door the underverse, she even got to watch one of the recruits leaving, certainly not a woman that Murr intended to get involved with. She seemed more likely to use her for a tooth pick than to help her get inside and speak to someone higher up. She didn't have the bearings of a warrior, her coat was bloody and dust covered, her shoes were worn, in comparison to those guards and the mammoth she was nothing but a street rat.

That's it! A small smile worked it's way across her frosty hued lips and she glanced either way down the alley before slipping off her coat and carefully balling it up so the contents of the pockets wouldn't spill and give her away. Folding the buttons in and removing her hair ties she placed her bundle down and messed up her hair to further extenuate her look of helpless and vulnerable. Satisfied she lifted the bundle which now resembled a lumpy and old pillow and she slipped out onto the streets, dancing between people on the balls of her feet until she found someone who would fit her needs.

From an observer's point of view the large man in a black smith's apron had grabbed a homeless girl by the arm and hit her hard, sending her to the floor not ten feet form the gates of the Mercenary guild. Even when questioned he would know no more than the sudden urge to do violence upon the girl and he'd never quite be able to explain his actions that day. Murr had selected him though, for his large size and powerful muscles and the glint in grey eyes that meant he was no stranger to violence. She'd hurried along and as she passed him she'd whispered unto his ears, “Hit me.” Her order was quiet in the muddle of the towns people and lost to all ears save those she had designed them for. They had ricocheted in his meaty head bypassing all the usual thought process that went between thinking and doing until he'd reached out and grabbed her.

She sat clutching her face, her little bundle having skittered across the floor a few feet and catching the attention of the guards whose cavalier gaze hadn't spent much time on the plight of the girl. Now they did, they followed the bundle to the girl who sat with wet eyes, black eye closed and soon to sport a lovely bruise where a deep red hand mark burned into her otherwise pale skin. She shifted awkwardly with a demure innocence when she caught the guards gaze. Attempting, it would seem, to hide more of herself than that thin sash of cloth otherwise allowed, it however had the reverse effect and accentuated her hips and legs as she sat there in the dirt.

For a long moment no one moved until finally one of the guards left his post and rushed over to the sniggering jests of those left behind. New blood, even she could tell he was 'green' the way his eyes still held an innocence about them. He'd never killed, or he was still relatively new to it, he had no idea about trickery or deception and had to struggle to remember all the rules and etiquette. Evident when he stammered clumsily over words, clearing his throat and trying to drop his tone to that of a much more commanding person but breaking once again when Murr moved 'just so'. She almost felt bad for the man, boy, child, whatever, he was likely a virgin still, he seemed so nervous around her and even as he offered aid he didn't seem to know where to put his hands. Taking advantage of him would be unfair, far too easy.

“I'm hurt and I need help.” She purred, offering him her hands, “You have to get me inside so someone can see to my injury.” The boy nodded enthusiastically the weird, feather detailing on the top of his helmet dancing in the sudden rush. He scooped her up form the ground easily, her arms wrapping lightly about his neck as he carried her towards the gate, “Oh, my, my bundle, good sir please.” He paused and bent allowing her to scoop up her items and draw them into her chest. The guards gave their friend a rather curious look as he approached with the street rat in his arms and a determined look on his face.
“She's injured and needs somewhere to rest, we should get a healer to look at her too.”
“She was punched, it's nothing serious, just put her down and send her on her way.”
“That's not something I can do, out of my way.”
“Hey Baldur, are you alright? This isn't like you.”
“Helping a woman in trouble isn't like me? Poppycock.” To which his friends had no comeback, he was the chivalrous sort but a street rat? Sure she had a certain allure to her body but who knew how many other men had been there and what she'd picked up from the streets. Finally laughing it off one called to Baldur's back, “Just leave enough for us hey!?” A chorus of laughter erupting from those left on sentry duty.

“Well...that was easy.” A glance behind her allowed her to see that not one had followed or kept an eye upon Baldur and his package, which meant the rest was likely to be relatively easy. Once Baldur rounded a corner towards what might have been the barracks she whispered once again into his ear, “Now...put me down, I'm okay, the doctor is seeing me and he's going to send me out when he's done.” Like a slave he did as he told, settling her carefully on her feet and turning without so much as another glance at her, heading back the way they had come. Hiding her amusement she clicked her jaw, bringing a hand to it and opening her other eye to test the pain, it was a minimal annoyance, Marakesha hit harder than that.

Musings behind her she slipped as far back into the shadow's as she was able, allowing herself a moment to gather her bearings and make a mental map of the area before her. Her 'gift' had a different duration for each species, humans were always difficult though as they could range from the mentally inept to the mentally fortified. When Baldur's mind stabilised he'd remember her and what happened and realise it was not of his own mind that he'd done what he had. She was now playing a game of chess to which she had to find the King before the Pawn's found her and their were only a limited number of moves left. Taking a deep breath she took one more look around before ascertaining it was as quiet as it was going to get. Unfolding her coat she slipped it on and buttoned only at the mid of the item, slipping down the length of the shadows the building they'd cornered provided.

She stopped upon seeing the mammoth again and backed up against the wall, crouching low as the beast passed her and slipped in through a door. That was likely the entrance and as such she had no intention of using it, to her that doorway symbolised death, it may as well have been painted in blood and skulls for all the danger it stood for. The entrance was certainly out but she could see no servant's entrance, which on the whole was annoying, if people were going to have such a large and expansive place surely they could afford a servants entrance! Agitation would get her no where though and so she darted from shadow to shadow, only briefly exposed to the sun before she disappeared once again. Pausing only briefly when she heard a shout a small frown crossing her features, Quicker than I'd hoped, I better speed this up.

Glancing about she was able to see a window open upon the second floor, it was going to be difficult to access but not impossible and other than the door of absolute death seemed the only viable action. Baldur and his fellow guards would be rounding the corner soon so she had to move. Slipping her hands into her pockets she withdrew the gauntlets, each gleaming claw only briefly shining in the sun before it was masked with the same aura she had been hidden by. Not spending time to secure them she grabbed hold of the wooden beam that ran along side the stone wall and dug those claws within, using it to ascend the beam as quickly as she was able.

The difficulty came when it was time to switch from wood to stone, she had to cross a gap about the size of her own body to reach the window ledge and pull herself in before the boot falls of the annoyed soldiers came around the corner. Spending not a moment to decide upon her next course of action she bought her feet against the wall and propelled herself towards the ledge, very nearly missing and striking one elbow quite hard. For a moment she scrabbled for grip before finally being able to shimmy herself inside the ledge and into what appeared to be a corridor. Damn it all, not my day.

Corridors were only slightly less death than an entrance, they were usually barren of places to hide, no shadows and often used by people and guards to get from place to place. What was worse was she was clearly near some stairs which were doom of a whole new kind. Still she didn't have much time to muse over her bad luck as she heard footsteps crossing the hall and had to quickly slip from the window ledge and down the corridor until she could see the shadow of the person coming. She'd judged the direction wrong! With an effort she used the narrow space at the top of the stair case to her advantage and watched the people move beneath her unsuspectingly. Thank the spirits for beams.

Slipping from her place perched in the supporting beams of the house she descended the stairs and rounded a corner. If she were an important person she wouldn't deal with stairs unless she had to and she'd spend all day sitting in the biggest room of the place so she could feel how powerful and wealthy she was by the amount of empty space around her. Grabbing the handle of a door she assumed was to some main hall or another she gave a tug and as it creaked open she was ready to march up to the Lord of this manor and demand some kind of...sanctuary? She wasn't sure, the word would come when she faced him or her.

Slipping through the partially opened door she straightened her back and rose her chin, hands dipping into pockets to release the gauntlets and grab the strip of paper she'd been given by the dying man. If this was a practical joke she was about to find out. “I've come to see the Lor--” Mismatched eyes widened a moment as her eyes befell the scene before her, a bunch of people -not one lordly character and a few guards-, including the mammoth, some small squirrel type thing, a guinea pig of a man and... “-d.” Her eyes settled on the Mandi-Har male, on the plus side, it was a male but it was still a Mandi-Har. “Well...clearly I have the wrong place so...” Glancing at the food she couldn't help but sidle up to a table and grab a chicken leg and a few links of sausage. When was the last time she'd seen such good food? Taking a bite of the meat she began backing up like a wild dog with it's ill-gotten prize. “I'll just be leaving now...no need to get up, I'll see myself out.”

Dalvarak’s morning continued to sour when he arrived at the Silver Leaves Bastion.

It was no surprise that there was a quartermaster on duty. The elite merc unit generally preferred accepting numerous smaller contracts rather than deploying en masse for a larger one, so there were squads coming and going at all hours. This quartermaster was a balding human with a large frame and a thick steel gray mustache. He’d clearly been with the Leaves for some time now, and was apparently fairly irritated that his seniority didn’t get him out of pulling early morning shifts.

Either that or he was always a bitter, pig headed ass.

Much to Dal’s dismay he was by the book, and not amenable to having his palm greased. As a result the well dressed dwarf was unable to talk or bribe his way into a single room, or even a two, four or eight man bunk room. With the amount of coin he had left after paying for storage for his clothing chests he had no choice but to sleep in the open bay barracks. 60 bunk beds… up to 120 sweaty, noisy and generally uncouth soldiers in a massive, poorly ventilated room.

In other words, hell.

The torture didn’t end there however. He’d paid the carriage driver to wait for him, but while Dal was inside negotiating with the stubborn oaf of a quartermaster, the driver had unloaded his chests and taken off. When Dalvarak stormed out of the office and made his way back outside, he found his chests stacked up on the ground in the empty courtyard.

All eleven of them.

Gritting his teeth, the dwarf dragged the first chest to his assigned barracks, which by the ill luck of Zail himself was on the third damned floor. He changed into his armor, both to avoid getting his new clothing dirty and because he felt he’d be needing it soon, one way or another. He also noted that he had a top bunk, and that a 6’2 Luni-Har was sleeping in the bottom one underneath him. Thian’al, he pleaded silently as he looked into a shadowed corner. Forgive me if I go on a murderous rampage today.

He returned to the courtyard and began the process of hauling the remaining ten chests to the long term storage room. This time luck was partially in his favor, for the storage room was down two flights of stairs in a sub-basement. The stairways and corridors were only dimly lit, and after looking over his shoulder to ensure nobody was around, he called upon his magic. The shadows in the narrow hallway curled up and away from the walls, reaching out for the chest. He shadowy arms suddently became physical, and he used them to carry the chests the rest of the way to the store room.

Dal, and most followers of Thian'al were extremely cautious about letting others see them us their magics. All too many considered the Demi God of Shadow to be little better than Zail, God of Darkness.

Even with the covert help of his magics, after 10 chests sweat was rolling down Dalvarak's forehead and soaking the clothes beneath his armor when he made his way to the mess hall. He opened the door with more force than he intended, it slamming against the wall with an audible crack. There was enough of a clamor in the room that few made notice of his entrance however.

Hanging on with the thinnest shred of patience Dal surveyed the room, taking in the layout and the patrons. It was an odd assortment of races, cultures, weapons and clothing. After decades traveling the continent, living in numerous large cities and fighting on dozens of battlefronts the dwarf had seen quite a bit, and little surprised him anymore. The Silver Leaves were notable, however, in the fact that they were a melting pot of just about every race and country. While he’d worked around both Luni-Har and Mandi-Har before, it was very, very rare to see them serving in the same unit. The Silver Leaves are the exception to many rules it seems.

Finally, his eyes found what they were looking for, a white haired Wild-Har sitting at an out of the way table against the side wall, eating a his meal alone. Kieran ‘Killshot’ was the only name the Wild-Har was known by… he’d been with the Leaves so long that most didn’t know when he’d joined. He was what the Wild-Har called a ‘Wayward’… A Wild-Har that had turned his back on nature, preferring to live in ‘civilization’ instead. The Wayward often gravitated toward the Luni-Har, or simply lived alone amongst humans or some other race, scorning the primitive life of their people.

Oddly enough, Kieran still clung to many of his people’s beliefs even as he cast others aside. As a result he wasn’t accepted among the ‘true’ Wild-Har or the ‘Wayward.’ His life was a solitary one, the Silver Leaves the only people he claimed now. In the years that Dalvarak had known him he’d shown no indication that his status bothered him. Either he was truly at peace with who he was, or he was very adept at hiding his feelings.

Kieran saw Dalvarak from across the room and called a serving maid over. The dwarf started across the room with a determined gait, bypassing the ruckus surrounding the Tintra, the massive human barbarian, the singing Mandi (odd enough sight though it was) and the furtive looking Luni grabbing up food like she was starving. He sat down at the table with a thump, and then grunted. “You get me a drink?”

“Of course, and breakfast.” Kieran replied in a mild voice.

Dal raised an eyebrow. “A real drink mind you, not any of the flower nectar your kind drink.”

“Yes, I got you an appropriately stout and bitter lager.” The elf’s words were proven true when a large mug and a platter of food was put down in front of him a moment later.

It had been an early morning, so Dal shoved a few mouthfuls of food into his mouth and washed it down with the lager. He wiped the grease off of his mouth with the back of his hand, and said bluntly. “I need a mission.”

“I gathered that from your early return from the city. Out of coin so soon?” His voice was mild and didn’t contain a hint of mockery, but Dal had known the elf for years and knew Kieran was laughing on the inside.

The dwarf gritted his teeth again. “I need a mission.” He repeated stubbornly.

“Well you’re in luck, I here there is a rookie squad forming soon… possibly even today." Dal stared at his friend and let out a low growl. Kieran managed a chuckle. “Everyone’s a rookie until they complete a mission with the Silver Leaves, even if we only recruit from the best. Consider it a right of passage.”

That didn’t make the dwarf like it any better, but he held that anger in check for the time being. “Fine, when do we leave?”

Kieran chuckled again. “We? No, not ‘we.’ You couldn’t pay me enough to lead a Rookie Squad. They’ll get some other Veteran to do that, likely somebody with aspirations of advancing through the ranks.”

Dal stared at the man for another minute, but it was clear he wasn’t going to get any more information out of him for the moment. He downed the rest of his lager and signaled for another before focusing on his breakfast. I might as well throw a few back while Kieran’s treating…