Unknown Heroes IC

[Rethel34]

Abandonment: The Unknown Heroes
OOC

Chapter I
Warriors Arise

[yt]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zu93FnHm90g[/yt]

There has been much strife for the past few weeks over the murder of twenty-three Varzian carpenters at the hands of Honaran Elves. Now, the newly ascended King of Varzia has declared war against Honara, claiming that the Elves killed knowing full-well the intentions of the Varzians.

The Varzian Army has recently reached the border city of Barasid, tearing apart every home to find those loyal to Honara, and execute them.

Now, in a time of brutal conflict, the people of these countries must choose a side, or be obliterated.

These ruins were once a great Elven city, whose name is lost to time. However, the city was destroyed during the war between Elves and Humans before the founding of Honara and Varzia. The ruins now stand as a mark of that war, and a graveyard of many members of each race, their numbers easily surpassing one thousand from each race.

The ruins are home to many odd occurrences, from roaming spirits, to moving trees (they can’t move from one place to another, but their branches move of their own free will,) to enchanted skeletons, which now stand as guardians to the ancient city. Many men of different races have stumbled upon this place, never to be the same person they were before discovering it, as spirits like to “experiment” on the passersby through possession.

Near the Ienr Mountains lies a small village that has heard many stories of this place, of its magic and spirits, and the Phantoms that leave it, though they were merely men when they entered, and many other tales, leading them to believe that magic is naught but evil. A few of the Phantoms that have originated from these ruins have found their way to this village, and have wreaked havoc each time.

The ruins are small, as most of the structures collapsed long ago. However, some trace of the wall that once existed remains, and a crumbling archway marks the time-old entrance. Only a few buildings are left standing, and the few that are have been covered in different types of ivy and other vegetation.

Arane is an elven village that was once no more than a lookout tower to watch for humans wishing to find their way to Vergollde, and was where the ancient war between humans and elves began. Many elves were called to the place, where the first battle was won in the elves’ favor. Thus, the city was built around the tower, and has flourished as a trading post ever since the war’s end.

From above, the city looks like every other expanse of forest, but when approaching it on foot, it is impressive, and very hard to miss. All houses are built into the trees, and the village is always lit with enchanted lanterns that are impossible to extinguish without magic.

Arane is also a nice place to ask for directions, because the forest is a place that is very easy to get lost in if the traveler is not following the river.

Those who live in Arane are secluded from the goings on in the rest of the world, outside of the little news received from Vergollde and Human travelers.

Athet is a small, religious village that is located in a valley at the base of the Ienr Mountains. Around the village is a large wooden wall to keep out dangerous creatures. This village is practically secluded from the rest of the world, as there are no easily reached villages within a hundred miles.

Thus, the village is self-dependent, and grows its own crops, raises its own livestock, does its own carpentry and metalworking, and practically everything else that can possibly be needed.

At the front of the village is the only forge within Athet. There is also only one professional healer, one small supply store, and pretty much one of each business, except farming, which is common. A few hunt, but they don’t consider it much of a business, and it’s considered the most dangerous sport of the village, as the mountains house many deadly creatures.

The back of the village is the location of the great church. It is by no means anywhere near the largest building in Honara, let alone the world, but it is the pride of the people of Athet.

Athet is usually calm and quiet, and its people are the farthest thing from violent, but nonetheless, crimes do still occur, just like anywhere else, though these are rare occasions.

Caelis exists very near a desert, and suffers thusly. Its population is the smallest in Varzia, and is near a very small river that barely manages to suffice for the people’s needs. Most of them are beggars and slaves, and the only wealthy (term used loosely in a comparative sense, not literally) people in the town are those who have mastered trading and marketing.

The Southeastern portion of Honara is a giant grassland, and a person within can see for miles, the peaks of the Guardian’s Gates are even visible from the Varzian Wall, even if only barely. Within these plains is the city Jardet, as well as numerous smaller villages.

The plains are home to many wild animals, though most are harmless, or too afraid of humans to come near. These include even such creatures as Phoenixes and Griffons, though these are rare sights, and Griffons are usually seen more frequently in places such as the Ienr Mountains to the north or the Sylvaran Marshes to the Southwest.

Usually, one will see such creatures as Buffalo, Gazelle, and Lions, the former two being very popular game amongst the hunters of the region. Wild horses can also be seen, and there have been claims of sightings of such creatures like Centaurs and Minotaurs, but such are believed to be simply myth, as no proof is held for the existence of these beasts.

The golden city of Honara. Gerathia serves as a multi-purpose city, as it is split into seven sections, and is located directly in the center of Honara. The outer walls are coated in pure gold (made possible only by the unusually large gold deposit that was located beneath it before its founding), thus the origin of the nickname, the Golden City. The first section is the Housing Division, and is where most of the citizenry live.

The second is the Merchant’s Division, and is where many trades and businesses thrive. The third is the Agricultural Division, and is the most fertile section of land in Gerathia, set up for the farmers who desire to grow crops and raise livestock. The fourth is the Messenger Division, the location set up for messages to be sent to any location in the city or country via runner. Section number five is the Political Division, a section of the city that can only be accessed by political figureheads.

The sixth piece of Gerathia is known as the Magician’s Circle. The five aforementioned sections of the city are arranged in a circular fashion around this piece, wherein only magic users are allowed to enter and/or stay. However, there are tunnels through the Magician’s circle to the center section of Gerathia, which the Magician’s Circle encompasses: The Spire.

The Spire is the giant castle at the center of Gerathia within which the Royal Family resides. This Giant Castle reaches just higher than the tower of Odengard, and is coated in pure gold, just as the outer wall is.

Around Gerathia are numerous gold mines which tunnel under the city, and in certain areas, the mines have been cleared so completely of gold that there is an entrance to the mines from the city, as well as a number of living quarters within.

The Ienr Mountains are a chain of mountains that house numerous carnivorous creatures, consisting of anything from coyotes to bears to Griffons to Dragons. These beasts are not always friendly, even if some are partway intelligent (like Dragons and Griffons).

There are numerous caves throughout the mountains, wherein many different creatures may dwell. There are also forests coating many areas of the mountains, adding to the number of places that predators can hide and lurk. There is a reason that the Ienr Mountains are named the way they are. In the language only spoken by magicians, Ienr roughly translates to “Death.”

This ominous city is the capital of Varzia, and a very wretched one at that. Illbain is located in a natural fortress, as it is surrounded by mountains, with only one easy trail out to the southeast. The city is divided into four levels: The lowest, being home to peasants and slaves; The middle, where the middle-class citizens, such as merchants , dwell; The top level, home to lords of the city; and The Overseer Tower, a large tower overlooking the city, within which the King lives.

To add to its defenses, Illbain has a large wall circling it, and its entrance is a huge toothed archway, which is always guarded by twenty knights at every time of day.

The capital is a wretched place to be, as you can always smell the waste of the lower levels no matter where you are in the city. It is also likely that those who come to Illbain uninvited will become a slave, whether their plans were to stay or not, as Illbain is not friendly toward visitors.

Jardet is a thriving merchant city near Barasid. The travel of people between the countries has made Jardet one of the most successful and wealthy cities in Honara. The people bear no slaves, as such practices are unneeded when almost everyone has something that they sell, and they have very few farms and fields to tend, which aren’t even difficult to grow and harvest in due to the rich soil of the plains.

Most of the buildings are tall and stone, and there are numerous fortresses and castles around and inside the city. Their militia is large, and they have a great number of trades, products, and services to sell, including a few of those more…vulgar trades.

The city is usually bustling with life, as there are many things to see and do in Jardet. One down side to living in a large city like Jardet is with population comes crime, and such is a fairly frequent occurrence in Jardet, and as the prisons can only hold so much, executions are held on a regular weekly basis.

Otherwise, as long as you’re a good person and don’t try to steal or commit any crimes, you should enjoy life in Jardet.

This city is one that can be easily spotted no matter what direction you look at it from. The giant waterfall is surrounded by flowing landscape and architecture, and like Arane, it is always glowing, except Vergollde has an even greater radiance.

Another similarity it has to its lesser cousin is that its buildings are parts of the trees around it. However, Vergollde also possesses more decoration and even a few freestanding homes, unlike Arane.

The Elven Capital is always active, especially now that the war has begun, though now it is graver than it once was. Vergollde is a bit more knowledgeable of the goings on than Arane, though the city is still fairly secluded from the rest of the world.

There is little crime rate among the elves, as they hold themselves and others to higher standards than humans normally do.

DISCLAIMER: I did not create any of these images, nor do I claim them as mine in any way. I merely found them on Google Images and used them for references. Also, the song is not mine, but is in fact copyrighted by Thomas Bergersen and Nick Phoenix, a.k.a.: Two Steps From Hell.

"Check," says Adhelm as he moves his Knight into place. He had been playing Chess with his friend for almost an hour, and very little progress had been made during the game until this point.

"Well, my friend, you never cease to surprise me," the swordsmith said as he escaped the possible doom by moving his King from its current position.

"You made the wrong move," Adhelm chuckled. He began moving his Queen into place. "Checkm—"

"Adhelm!" a voice called out. Adhelm, confused, looked up from his game to see the source of the shout, and was surprised to see one of the royal messengers running toward him. "His Royal Majesty has requested your audience as soon as possible."

"Hm...I guess I'm just about ready, then. I've just finished this game anyway," Adhelm explained. "That'll be Checkmate, my friend," he said toward the smith.

Adhelm snatched up his broadsword from nearby and set off to The Spire following after the messenger.
----------
Marciana launched a fireball into her opponent's stomach, sending the man flying about ten feet.

"You can ward off my powerful dark magic, but you can't stop a simple fireball?" Marciana taunted.

The man was back on his feet now, and looked angrier than before. He began shooting small blasts of lightning at her, but to no avail. She merely protected herself using a simple shield spell.

Then he went into more complicated assaults. He lifted large stones from the ground around them with magic and began to hurl them at her, and when that failed, he resorted to even more power.

He drained a decent amount of water from a nearby fountain and lifted another barrage of rocks. Then, using a wind spell, he held that up as he gathered fire energy to use. And in one quick motion, he sent the magic-enhanced elements flying toward her, and she was barely able to wheel out of the way in time to dodge it.

However, she wasn't the only one who had a close call, as she saw someone running toward the sparring duo. Correction: he was a Royal Messenger, and he was running toward her.

Marciana put her hand up, signaling her opponent that she had to stop for a moment, and she waited for the runner to catch his breath.

"The King...has requested...your presence...." the messenger said between short breaths. "He has a task...for you..."

"What kind of task?" Marciana asked.

"He...He didn't say...." The messenger pulled something from his pocket. "He told me to give this to you."

Marciana took one glance at the scroll before saying, "I can't read."

"That's fine..." the runner said. "Just show it to the guards at the gate."

"Alright," she finished, and after whistling to get Solas's attention, she clambered onto the Griffon's back and they flew to the gates of The Spire.
----------
"And I knew I had reached mine destination, fer the ceilin' collapsed behind me," Njord explained to a small group of young children. "Then, after it had emmitted a great roar, I saw the—"

"Excuse me," someone said from behind, startling the Dwarf. "Would you happen to be Njord?"

"Well, that was certainly quite the interruption there wasn't it?" Njord said as he turned to find that the man who had interrupted him was a Royal Messenger.

"My sincere apologies, sir," the runner began, "but His Majesty has requested your immediate presence at The Spire."

"Well! The King, you says?! Then let us be off at once!" He turned to the children. "I'm sorry childrens. Perhaps we can finish the story some other time."
----------
"Now that I've got you all here," the king started, "I have a few words of utmost urgency, so I suggest you listen closely." The King seemed frail, like he'd break if someone even thought of punching him. "This elf," he gestured to the woman (Elvina) to his right, "has informed me that the Varzian army has attacked. I cannot be sure as to whether I should believe this, as it is the first I've heard of it. Therefore, I have decided to form an elite team. I have heard of your prowess, finesse, and furiosity, and I believe that, as a team, you could be a four person army. If Varzia has indeed attacked, then I want you four to stop them at all costs. Is this understood?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Adhelm, Njord, Marciana, and Elvina said simultaneously.

"Very well. Gather your things. You leave at sunset."

[LJCOMICS]

Jardet was nice enough for a Human city, Astarte supposed. Work was plentiful and easy, as there were valuable goods to guard and few willing to steal it. Astarte's rather plump coin purse was proof of his momentary prosperity. Though it irked him to have to rub elbows with such lowly creatures as Humans, these days he didn't have much of a choice. Elves were to be avoided. Any of them could be a royal agent sent to sniff out and kill him. Though he had been on the run for a year, the heat had barely died down. The last agent to make an attempt on Astarte's life was encountered almost a month ago. Astarte burned her body in three separate fires.

Still, he couldn't hang around in this town for too long. He was moving on, and that meant an end to easy work. However, Astarte decided to kill two birds with one stone by moving out with a caravan, which he was assigned to guard. The merchant that had hired him was rather excited by the prospect of hiring an "exotic" Elven mercenary to protect his goods. Astarte had the feeling that he was more excited by the low wages that he was willing to agree to. The goods in question he had learned to be silver ore to be smelted into ingots by the blacksmiths of Rolandis, their destination. A very tempting target for any would-be raiders, as the ore would be easy to sell and nearly impossible to trace.

Thus the tight security on the caravan, which Astarte now stood among as the drivers prepared to move out. He was a lone Elf among the Dwarven and Human mercenaries hired to protect the train of cattle and carts. All armed and armored roughnecks who would spit on the ground and wrestle and joke of cutting off heads and maidenheads and engaged in similar crude and jocular behavior. Astarte was disgusted by them. Not because they were lowly beasts no better than the cattle they walked beside (well, that was part of it), but because of their complete lack of professionalism. Astarte had standards that he maintained regardless of the job. Whether he was a short-term enforcer for the local organized crime syndicate or a bodyguard for whatever petty human nobles were around, Astarte completed his tasks with the same level of professionalism. The task would be completed cleanly, efficiently and expediently. It would be completed to the letter of his employer's demands, and exactly that. No more, no less. He would not socialize or partake in recreation until his task was complete. Not that Astarte did those things often under normal circumstances.

Oh, they were moving out. Astarte was broken from his condescending and narcissistic internal monologue by the sound of bullwhips being cracked and wagon wheels creaking. He tightened the straps on his minimal armor (mostly concealed by his billowing robes), placed his hand on his sword hilt, and joined the moving formation.

---

The sun had set, and the caravan was well along its journey, but had stopped for the night. The roads in Honara were very easy to navigate, and they had made fantastic time. If the same pace was maintained, they would reach Rolandis by mid-afternoon the day after tomorrow. Camp had been established, and most drivers were already asleep as the guards gathered around a fire and were generally obnoxious. Astarte stayed just within reach of the firelight, eating his rations of dried beef and bread, but was generally away from the rest of the guards as they drank and sang.

Unfortunately, one spotted him. "Oi, knife-ears! Get over 'ere!" The human mercenary shouted, waving him over with his tankard.

Astarte sighed deeply before rising to his feet and walking over to the circle of men who had grown quiet at his approach.

"Got some fancy swords there. Mind if I 'ave a look-see?"

"I would mind. Do not touch me." Astarte's tone was mostly stoic, though was still firm.

"Oh yeah," Another man, of the Dwarves, rose unsteadily and took steps toward Astarte. "The hoity-toity Elf wouldn't want us to harm his wee precious knives, there. What if I decided to take 'em off ye?"

Astarte took a step away from the drunken Dwarf, still calm. "You are drunk. I would prefer that you be sober enough to cry and beg for mercy before I killed you."

Laughs resounded around the fire, the men apparently amused by Astarte's boast. The stuttering, embarrassed Dwarf was pulled back into the circle and handed a full tankard to shut him up.

Another Human man stood, looking a bit more sober, and in cleaner armor than the majority. "Well, it is late. I do think that we should best bed down at this time, gen'lemen." Groans and various slurred objections sounded, but no one sounded vehemently against the order. "Good, I'm glad we're in agreement." The man walked over and placed his large hand on Astarte's more delicate shoulder, supporting his tipsy weight on him slightly. "I'm afraid we've had a bit too much to drink this evening, my fey friend, and you look th' most sober among us." Indeed, Astarte was completely sober; he did not care for the drink for a great number of reasons, professionalism chief among them. "If you'd be so kind as t' handle th' watch for th' night, we'd greatly appreciate it. I don't think any of us are good for waking up t' change th' firewatch, so you're free to sleep on a cart tomorrah, an' we'll let yous sleep all through tomorrah night in exchange, yeah?"

Astarte sighed, carefully sliding out of the man's grasp and brushing off where they had made contact. "Very well. You drunkards may sleep off your soporifics as I assume the duties you are being paid for."

The men laughed and thanked him and shook his hand (to Astarte's disgust) as they passed to enter their tents. The sole Elf took up his position at the subsiding fire, which he fed more kindling to liven a bit more. The moon was but a silver sliver in the sky, but the stars were bright and full over the man Sworn to them, alone in many ways that night.

[DotCom]

The girl was already chomping at the metaphorical bit.

Yanna rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself as she stripped off her soft boots to tuck them into the sack on her back. She'd long since given up trying to look like a 'normal' wolf. Even if her size advantage wasn't generally noticeable, her bright white coat in the dark on night and wooded forest certainly was.

"You can stop right there, little one."

Dae turned to her protect and surrogate elder sister with a pout perfected by months of hard work. She was eager to go about her business--she did not appreciate being told to wait.

Yanna placed a hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow. "It's wait for my signal, or don't go at all. Take your pick."

Dae stuck her lower lip out another half inch, but didn't budge from where she stood. Yanna's smile widened. She had won this battle--which was an embarrassingly rare feat.

"You know which cart to hit?"

The raven-haired girl nodded petulantly, pointing to the last cart in the Jardet caravan they'd been following since early that morning. It was heavily guarded by a motley crew of dwarves and humans--and one elf, Yanna had recognized almost immediately. It was he who took the watch that night, by some celestial stroke of luck. His comrades were deep in a drunkard's sleep. If it came to battle--and Yanna did not think it would--they would be more hinderance to the elf that help.

It was just as well. Yanna's tiny companion had not warned her of anything that morning--Vidae had had no 'bad feelings' as she called them in the night--but she had been wrong before, and it was best not to test things, the current political climate as it was. Yanna had picked up the news in a tavern well outside of Jardet only a few days ago. It was no more than a few inflated rumors, no better than the gossip of fishwives, but if it was true--if there had been an attack that was to be reciprocated between the neighboring countries of Honara and Varzia--Yanna wanted to be nowhere nearby. She was well skilled with her bow, she knew, but she had never wanted to be a warrior. Especially not now that she had the little one to watch over.

Yanna was taking Vidae and running--they were going to find some small, safe, distant village in Slyvaran and stay hidden until the violence had passed.

Dae stomped her foot impatiently, folding her arms over her chest as she brooded. Yanna shook herself from her foreboding reverie.

"Alright, alright. The last cart, and the last cart only. And what do you take?"

Dae made a face, obviously annoyed at being treated like the child she was, but quickly raised her hands in the self-crafted sign for 'food'.

Yanna nodded. "And what else?"

Now Dae hesitated. Yanna frowned. "Nothing, Dae. Nothing else. You know that."

It wasn't that the child had sticky fingers, or a particularly treacherous spirit. She only saw pickpocketing and sneakiness as a game, and the more trinkets she brought back, the higher the score. She never stole from the poor or weak--Yanna wouldn't have let her, even if she wanted to--but from those with extra, Dae could spend hours sifting through coins and jewelry to stuff her pockets, just because.

It was how the two had first met. Yanna was making her way through a crowded market, seeking to purchase a new shift, as her old one had been torn during her last change. She was about to give up and move on to the next square, when a child too small to be alone darted by, promptly tripped over an upturned tile, and went sprawling on the ground.

Almost immediately, a number of people--particularly older human women--gathered round the child, asking about her parents, offering her sweets to stop her crying. The girl didn't say a word, though she gladly accepted the candies and lumps of sugar they offered. And while she lay there, crumpled on the ground, Yanna's eyes caught something the others' did not--the girl was robbing them all. A coin or two here, a silver piece there. Every time someone would move in to hug the girl, or try and dry her tears, tiny fingers would find a deep pocket, flashing in and out, prize in hand. Yanna stood and watched, caught somewhere between disgust and amusement.

After a time--presumably when the girl decided she had enough stolen currency to last until her next con--the dark haired girl with violet eyes (interesting, Yanna had recalled. Was the girl part elf?) rose and squirmed through the crowd, hiding herself away in an alley until the crowd dispersed. When she left the alley, she headed for an abandoned cottage at the edge of town--and Yanna followed.

As she walked, the girl did something strange: she rubbed the blood from the knee she'd scraped in the fall off with a palm...then raised the palm to her lips. For a moment, Yanna was revolted. She stopped in her tracks. Perhaps the was no girl, perhaps she was some sort of demon--until she sniffed, and laughed aloud. The blood was not blood at all, but fruit jam. The whole incident had been staged. The girl was smart. Very smart. It got her in trouble quite often.

"Dae. What are you bringing?"

'Food,' came the answer. 'Food and nothing.'

"Exactly. Now--"

'And coins?' Dae signed eagerly, interrupting Yanna with a face to melt the heart of the cruelest of men.

Yanna rolled her eyes. "No. They have nothing but silver, and that," Yanna said, speaking over the girl as she began to protest, "is too valuable for you to touch. We don't need it. Only food."

The two stood there, glaring at each other, until finally Dae relented. 'Only food.'

"Good. Go on, now. Come right back here at the first sign of trouble. Quiet as a mouse, little one."

Dae nodded, smiling once again at the prospect of her task. 'Quiet as a mouse.'

"And what do you do if you see me?"

They both knew if Yanna appeared, it would not be in her human form, and it would not be good news.

'Run,' signed Dae. 'Run and hide, and don't wait to see if you're hurt.'

"Good. Go."

Dae went, creeping with an almost eerie silence over the dried underbrush of the wood. She kept a careful eye on the elf at the fire, counting, biding her time, then wriggling into the last cart in the caravan.

Kiyanna watched her go, waiting for her to disappear into her target before tying her bow and pouch over her back and Shifting into her wolf form. She retreated further into the dark cover of the trees. She did not want to be seen unless Dae needed her.

Then God help any man who chose to stand in her way.

[Sabretooth1]

Malthus flicked his tongue out and back in. He was close. He could smell it. All he had to do now was wait for it. And.. There! He snapped forward with incredible speed and precision, latching onto the beast's neck. An audible snap was heard, and he dropped the roe deer to the ground.

"Raac!" A quick glance upwards told him that Soren was nearby. And a large force landing on him told him that he was on top. His form blurring, Malthus became an elf once more, squirming out from beneath his reptilian friend.

"Damn it all to hell, Soren! I told you that you can't keep doing that! You're not a hatchling anymore. You're older and stronger. Probably stronger than me." He rubbed the dragon's snout gently, rapping his knuckles on the creature's head playfully. "Here. I'll cut you your piece but... Shh. Did you hear that?"

Soren crouched down low, his hiss barely audible. Malthus closed his eyes, listening. He knelt down low to ground.

"I'm telling you, I've heard something over here!" Another elf, most likely a townsmember, walked into view. He looked younger than Malthus, possibly only in his forties. Two other elves walked behind him. all had weapons.

Please let nothing bad happen.. Let them pass.. Let them.. A loud crack, and a thump. Looking back, he saw Soren had stepped on a small log, breaking it in half. Shit..

"There! You see it! It's huge!" The three ran forwards towards the two.

Leaping onto Soren's back, Malthus rubbed his neck. "Now's your time to shine, buddy. Get us out of here!" Soren took off, his great wings unfurling, flapping slightly harder to compensate for the extra weight. Malthus smiled as they climbed. Too many close calls.. We need to get out of here. It's time we moved.. But where?

~~~

"C'mon, Soren. Stop shoving off your saddlebags. I'm not going to ride you with all that on you, but you need to carry your fair share of stuff, too." Malthus shouldered a large pack himself, Soren similarly burdened with a pack.
"Look, I'm sorry, but we have to go. We'll.. We'll go to.. I don't know, some Human city. Like, Jardet.. Or we'll move to the mountains. One or the other."

Malthus rubbed Soren's flank. The dragon blew a puff of smoke from his nostrils, his tail flicking like a cat's. Here was home. Here it was nice for Soren. He couldn't understand why his father was taking them away. Did he anger another dragon? Soren plodded along Malthus, through the woods.

"We'll find somewhere that will accept you. And me. Don't worry.. I-I know what I'm doing." Malthus took a deep breath as he started away from home. Away from his whole life, and towards a new destination. Hopefully he didn't run into anyone on his way to the next town when he had to restock his supplies.

I wish that we had that deer still.. There goes a few days worth of food..

[Deamonbane]

A ditty. That was all he could come up with. His creativity had been drained after singing for a bunch of soldiers on leave in an inn. Of course, it had been worth as much as he could drink, eat, and smoke, so in his mind, it was worth it. But he had used all of the songs he knew, and had stayed up most of the night, so he simply hummed, and tapped a rhythm on his thigh whenever one came to mind. He strode through the woods, as he never liked to trail the beaten paths on his many travels. Made him feel too much like one of the many. He would never get lost, and he preferred his own company, and that of the animals, to that of the people that could be found on the road. He lightly jumped over a root, and the enjoyed the sounds of the night-life in the forest. Anyone who thought that the forest was quiet during the night, had probably never been in the forest before. The sounds of crickets, owls, and all sorts of night creatures made for one hell of a racket, if one was quiet enough to listen.

Stepping up his pace, and his tune into a whistle, and the occasional," Lala," Or something to that effect, he began looking around for a place to sleep, and maybe a brook to get some water from. He cleared a downed log, and saw some campfires in the distance. Maybe the source of tonight's food, and maybe providing some entertainment in return. His pace slowed, as his mind began rehearsing some of his best tales. Some stories were better for some kinds of audiences. He would have to see which kind of men or women were here, and make do. Or maybe they would kick him out, and he would have to rely on some dried meat for his dinner. That was always an option for a half-breed. He had learned that lesson long ago.

He stepped up closer, and was immediately challenged by one of the perimeter guards," Who goes there?"

"'Tis I," He said, in his most pleasant voice," Orm, the famous entertainer, famous for telling tales of valor, glory and comedy to those that would hear it."

"We don't need an extra mouth to feed," The man said foully," We need food, and that's a fact."

"Then you are in luck, my friend," Orm grinned," For I also happen to be a hunter and cook of some excellence, and I could easily fill your bellies with deer, rabbit, and roots of the forest. All I require is a place to sleep for the night."

[LJCOMICS]

A thump, like a sack of potatoes being dropped, and then a small shatter were caught by Astarte's sharp ears. The noises came from a cart at the furthest end of the caravan train. The Elf had not seen anyone in the area, so it could not be more than two or three people. For any more than that to evade Astarte's senses, they would be much too skilled to be caravan robbers. No need to wake the other guards. He doubted they would be much assistance in their current state, in any case. Astarte made his first movement since hearing the disturbance; he placed his hand upon the hilt of his sword, and darted into the shadows, quickly disappearing from all but the most highly-trained eyes.

He emerged from his cover of darkness beside the cart closest from where he heard the odd noise. He crept along next to it, and poked his head out just far enough to get a look at the far end. The sight was bewildering to say the least. A pallid human child, no older than four or five, lay on the dusty ground, rolling in the dirt like an animal and hyperventilating. Astarte dropped his pretense of stealth (though kept his guard up, and a hand on his blade) and investigated the child. It was female, as far as he could tell, and having some manner of seizure. Her eyes were rolled to the back of her head, and she frothed at the mouth as she convulsed and wheezed. Before attending to her, he frisked the young girl, and relieved her of a small dagger, which he tucked into his sash. Astarte picked the girl up, hefting her over his shoulder, tore a strip of cloth off of her frock, and very carefully gagged her with it so that she would not bite her tongue and choke on the blood.

The girl now not in any immediate danger to herself, he investigated what exactly had just taken place. The cart was open, the lock torqued open by nimble fingers. She had broken into it, this was obvious enough. A sack lay on the ground, which he found to be filled with a few preserved meats and fruits. Fair enough, this cart was for food transport, which this girl had been trying to rob. What stood out was a shattered clay pot where he had found the girl, its golden contents spilled out over the ground. It appeared to have been filled with some dried, organic substance. Astarte picked up a small amount and rubbed it between his fingers. It did not resemble any poison he knew of (and he did indeed know quite a few), and so he decided to taste an extremely small amount of it. It had a sharp, sweet flavor that he could not immediately place, but quickly realized to be opium. He returned to the cart, finding one of the crates inside pried open, and filled with dozens of similar jars, which he found to be full of the narcotic as well. Astarte sighed deeply. This was not what he had signed up for.

Astarte reasoned that it would be mad for a child, especially as young as this one, to devise to rob a caravan on her own. Particularly seeking out a cart that had read on the manifest to be for food transport, but actually carted extremely valuable and highly illegal opium. She couldn't have been working alone. So where was her...

A snarling alerted Astarte to a presence behind him. Whatever it was, it had successfully avoided his notice for long enough to get this close, and that alarmed him. He turned sharply around (the child losing consciousness on his shoulder slowing him down by a fair margin) to find a large, white wolf baring its fangs at him. Astarte's hand flew to his sword, silently dislodging it from its sheath, but kept the blade mostly concealed. The wolf paced around him, its eyes darting from him, to the child, and back to him. It wasn't like a wolf to charge in alone. Nor were white wolves common occurrences at this latitude. This was either a trained beast or a shifter. Elves were masters of the wild, and comprised the entirety of the shifter population, and so Astarte reasoned that if it was to be communicated with, it would be in Elven.

"Is this girl-child in your company? Either answer me or return to your master, cur." He spoke to the beast in his native tongue.

[DotCom]

The last time she had tried to steal from a tinker, the man had threatened to steal Dae’s thumbs…and then rewarded her efforts with the best sweet she had never found again. He had called it candied honey, and the sticky lump of amber goodness had been paradise for the small girl, staying in the crannies of her teeth for long after the tinker left her with a word of warning and a smile. Dae had long since given up on ever finding the confection again.

Until now.

She knew immediately she and Yanna had made the right choice from the moment she wriggled into the final cart. They’d been watching all day—Yanna had asked her to guess that morning, and Dae had stood there, and watched each cart go past, and waited for the feeling like butterflies in her belly that usually meant something good, then pointed to the last cart. Later, they’d seen men taking food out during a midday break, and Yanna had resolved to loot it that night while the men rested.

They were right—the cart was full of crates, and the crates full of food. Mostly dried meats and preserved fruits—Dae made a face as she nibbled a tiny hunk of tough venison. She hated dried venison, but she knew what Yanna would say if she passed this up for something she liked more. Dae gave the tiniest of sighs and began tucking away as much meat, fruit, and hard bread as her sack could carry, all the while looking for hunks of fresh cheese, or even a secret store of sweets.

She was just preparing to leave—the whole con had taken no more than a few minutes, and Yanna had given her just ten—when her hand came up against a heavy crate. The second she touched it, she felt her belly tighten warningly. This gave her pause. There were several crates and baskets she had crawled over to reach this one, and none of them had given her anything. Why this one? Dae grinned wickedly in the dark and fished through her clothing to seize her dagger once more.

Dae was a smart child—the few people who had ever caught her stealing, Yanna included, oft to her as much. But for all her uncanny precociousness, she was still very much just that: a child. In her mind, there was one reason a crate of food could give her the bad feeling, and that was because Yanna did not want her to have it. Which probably meant it was sugar.

Dae jimmied open the top of the crate and reached a hand into the small space, feeling about until her fingers found what felt like a small clay jar. She pulled it into her lap, opened it, and sniffed. A sweet, cloying smell filled her nostrils immediately, and her grin widened. In the faint light cast by the stars and moon, her violet eyes picked up the golden sheen of the sticky contents, and her heart leapt. Candied honey.

Yanna would never let her bring this much back with her, if at all. But no one, she reasoned, would notice if she took just a small bit. She looped her full sack over one shoulder, stuck two tiny fingers into the pot, and hefted up a small amount of the sweet stuff. She remembered sticking both fingers in her mouth, crawling to the end of the cart, stolen jar in hand, just as the flavor exploded, coating her tongue and teeth and throat. She remembered pausing, trying to remember if the honey had tasted quite this acrid before. She remembered dropping her grip loosening on the sack. She remembered falling, hearing the jar of not-honey shatter beside her. Then, there was nothing.

~*~*~

Though Yanna had retreated a fair distance into the woods, she knew there was a problem as soon as she heard the tinkling sound of ceramics smashing on the packed dirt floor.

She was moving before she was fully aware of doing so, trying to imagine all of the things that might have caused the sound. It was entirely possible Dae had nothing to do with it at all, and by showing herself, she was ousting the both of them. But she would rather risk that than Dae being discovered by herself. The girl could run, but she was a hopeless fighter. She could not even bear to watch Yanna skin their dinner at times.

Then, two things assaulted her senses at the same time: the first was the sound of Dae’s quickened, labored breathing, pushing Yanna to lope faster through the thinning woods. The second was the smell of an elf, growing stronger every second. The single elf on guard had been alerted, and was moving in on Dae, who was, it seemed, in some sort of trouble.

He reached her first, and Yanna stopped her flight immediately, hunkering low to the ground. He watched, heart pounding in her chest, as he hefted the girl, who had been shaking on the ground, sack spilled open beside her, over his shoulder, gagging her swiftly before removing her dagger from her person.

What Yanna did now was important. Should the male elf decide to take Dae hostage, she would be all but subject to his will. She could attack him, she thought, move in close enough to maintain the element of surprise. She held no hope in killing him. Even if she wanted to, it would take too long, and the other men would be awake before she could escape with the child into the night.

If she Shifted, she would lose any advantage that she had. The fact that the elf even carried a sword on him was telling enough. If she had been half a league away, she might have fared differently, but her bow was nearly useless in quarters this close.

That left bargaining with him. She moved in close on the elf, revealing herself, and causing him to put a hand to the hilt of his weapon. To his credit, it took him only a moment to figure out what she was, offering his ultimatum in their native tongue. Perhaps he was a man to be reasoned with.

Yanna Shifted reluctantly and spoke in as calm a voice as she could muster, hands raised in surrender.

“The child belongs with me. Neither she nor I mean you any harm, brother.” The word was acid on her lips. She had referred to no one as brother—let alone another elf—since she had left Vergollde. Were it some silly trinket, a sum of gold, or just the sack of pilfered food, she’d have threatened, or offered a deal. But she found she could summon nothing but a feeling that bordered on fear.

The child was to be the death of her.

“We will return the stolen fare, and pay you for it, should you have need of it. This requires neither trade nor violence. I only want the girl.” She thought quickly, dredging through the haze of apprehension that consumed her mind, searching for a lie that might appeal to his humanity, had he any to offer.

Did he perhaps know what the girl was capable of? He’d seemed no more than a caravan guard at first glance, though a full-blood elf among humans in such times as these might stand to be questioned on its own. Her hand twitched just slightly toward her bow. Every instinct screamed to fight, to defend, to flee, at the very least, but she could not, would not risk it. If the elf was unstable or easily excitable, it could spell the worst for Dae, who had already gone alarmingly still.

“The child is mine own…sister,” Yanna said finally. She was not old enough to bear children, nor did she and the girl share any physical similarities. The girl’s ears were not even pointed. But in recent times half-elves were more common, and she could fall upon that, if necessary.

“I…beseech you,” she grated out, the words heavy with disuse. “She is but a child, and she may be ill. Take what you want. I ask only the girl in return.”

[Rethel34]

A small orange dot danced on the horizon.

A campfire, Elvina thought. Her visibility was better than that of the others, though before long, all four of them would be able to pick it out.

"There's a camp site a few miles from here," Elvina said to the others. "We should be able to reach it around sunrise." While speaking quietly to those on foot, she also relayed the message to Marciana above via mental link.

I can see it too Marciana replied.

The trip had been spent mostly in silence. None of the party even cared to know where the other three had come from, or even why they were chosen for such a task. No one even knew anyone else's names.

"Sorry if I sound rude," Adhelm began, "but could we possibly pick up the pace just a bit? I'm sure all of us would like to sleep, and this speed will do nothing but put us to sleep. If we're going to be up the rest of the night, let's not make it too dull."

"I agree with the Human," Njord added. "I think it'd be best for us all. Either that or we stop for the night."

"Very well, we shall speed up. However, my worry is that the Human will not be able to keep up. He does not have the speed of a horse, let alone that of an Elf," Elvina explained.

"I could ride on the horse," Adhelm suggested.

"But that would only slow mine horse down with the burden of an extra body," Njord countered.

"That leaves but one option..." Elvina contacted Marciana using her magic. Do you think your Gryphon can handle another body? The Dwarf and Human want to take a more lively pace, and I fear that without a steed, the latter may fall behind.

You want me to take the human? I'll do it this once. Solas is still young, so I'm not sure how this may go, but I'll give it a try. However, do not ask this of me again.

I shall not, kind Vorr, Elvina concluded, but through the mental link, there was a sound almost like a hiss, as if the Vorr had not taken kindly to the last two words. It was something Elvina was unable to understand. "Alright, Human, you'll be riding on the gry—" she had begun speaking aloud, but was unable to conclude the sentence, as the gryphon swooped down from above, and Marciana grabbed Adhelm, throwing him on the back of the creature.

Elvina and Njord looked at each other and nodded. Then Njord spurred his horse, sending it forward at a full gallop. Elvina stayed close to the steed's side, running on foot, though not at her fastest speed. The wingbeats of the Gryphon could be heard from above in a pattern that did not match with either Elvina's running nor the horse's galloping.

After an hour of travel, the spec of light that was the campfire had more than doubled in size, now the size of a candleflame, and it was only a half-hour after that (as the party's pace seemed to steadily increase over time when Elvina and Marciana began chanting spells together that would enhance their speed) the whole camp had come into view.

Wagons were arranged in an irregular circle around the campfire, and no guards stood at their posts. It had seemed the entire caravan had gone to bed, not worried about intruders. However, on one end of the camp, outside the ring of wagons, one man, who was holding a child, stood facing a woman who was asking for something. Both were elven, and it didn't seem like things between them would go well.

Only Elvina could understand exactly what was being said. The woman elf wanted the child. A jar of some shiny golden substance lie on the ground just a few feet away from them, something that Elvina could tell was not as kind to the one possessing it as it would appear.

Elvina waved for the others to join her, and they did so promptly. "There's something going on over there, and I don't trust it. They're both elves, and I don't doubt they heard the sounds of the horse's hooves and the Gryphon's wings. If they can hear well, they can hear my whispering even from this distance. We need to keep quiet. We don't want to disturb them, only make sure Varzian troops aren't in this camp."

She turned back toward the two elves, and was afraid of what she might see.

[LJCOMICS]

The wolf shifted into a dark-skinned Elf woman, and Astarte practically felt bile rise in his throat from the sight of her. Shifters were the most putrid of all creatures. Elves were to be masters of the wild, to rule it. Not to sink to its level and integrate with it. Astarte would not be surprised if she had borne cubs, fathered by an actual wolf. Such an act would be no more degrading in his eyes than rutting with a Human, which a fairly recent ancestor of hers surely did, judging by her dark skin (evidence of dirty blood). He suspected that she was lying about her relationship to the child he carried, as they looked nothing alike. But that was irrelevant. She was clearly willing to demean herself in order to return the child safely.

Astarte took a step forward, locking eyes with her and keeping his expression blank. He seriously doubted that whatever pittance of money she had on her person would be able to cover the cost of the narcotics that lay spilled on the ground. Even if that was the case, there was still a cart full of opium that had been broken into, a case of it cracked open, and a jar missing. All while every single guard would be able to confirm that he was the only one awake at the time. Whoever was shipping this opium in secret would not be pleased by its discovery, and would be even less pleased by having lost a considerable amount of it. And all of their ire could easily be placed upon Astarte.

"Do not waste your breath to appeal to my greed or my pity, bitch." He said to the Shifter, still conversing in Elven. "You and this whelp have inconvenienced me to a magnitude beyond your feeble comprehension, and surely beyond that which coin may compensate for." His voice maintained a trained monotone pitch that was as unreadable as his face, yet retained a sharpness to it similar to the snakelike glare in his eyes. "You are fortunate in that I would derive no pleasure from killing this mongrel you call a sister. Though if you do not soon purge her of the toxin she has consumed in childish ignorance, she will not live to see dawn."

Noises in the distance caught his attention, though he did not divert his gaze from the Elf before him, he silently focused on it. There was a horse, and at least one other person. And a large animal in flight. The noises stopped soon after entering his range, likely as they became aware of his presence. Astarte could just barely pick up on speech a fair distance away. His eyes narrowed. They were not alone, and he was sure that the other Elf knew this as well. Though it was possible that this was merely a coincidence, or that they were actually here for the other Elf or the child, Astarte's gut told him that they were more agents of the monarchy, sent to assassinate him. He could no longer afford to speak so loudly, but before he got any closer to the distrustful Shifter, he had to take a precaution against her.

With great flourish, Astarte drew his lesser, unnamed sword. His eyes never strayed from the Shifter as he held the sword away to the side. He slid the child from resting on his shoulder to being held in his arm, supported by her rump. He twisted himself by his hips, maintaining his footing, to show where the unconscious child lay against him to the other Elf. He slowly and carefully took his sword to slip between his chest and the child, its blade downwards and harming neither of them. However, he could flick his wrist at a moment's notice and gut the small girl if he felt so inclined. Astarte resumed his original posture and took slow steps toward the Elf, his sword-arm tense. They soon stood so close that the child was actually pressed between them, and she could feel his controlled breath on her neck.

Astarte spoke in a whisper that was barely louder than breathing, taking as much advantage as he could from her sharp, Elven ears and the borderline intimate distance between them, "Listen closely. We are being watched. It is my assumption that those observing us mean to kill me. I will give you the child, on one condition." He tightened his grip on the girl and on his sword, the leather-wrapped hilt of the latter audibly groaning under his grip. "You will take me to whatever hovel you and the runt reside within, and you will harbor me there until such a time that I feel inclined to leave. This length of time will be no more than a day, as I could not stomach your company any longer. Will you consent to the terms of this agreement?"

[DotCom]

Yanna could never be called vain, but even she found her temper rising at the way the other elf looked at her. He was a pureblood--every inch of him screamed it--and one of those distrustful of anyone who was not. Yanna herself was of pure blood as well, though clearly he thought her Shifter status demeaned her beyond what her blood could redeem. And Dae was a different story entirely. Her eyes gave away the elf blood in her heritage, but if she had more than a few drops in her veins, it was not apparent to Yanna. She felt her hackles rise, even now, in her natural form, and it was with great effort she kept her mouth shut.

It was quickly becoming clear that Dae's life meant less than nothing to the man who now held her, and for this reason alone, Yanna did not Shift and rip the man's throat from his neck, instead trying to even her breathing and maintain a clear head in case he should attack. He was young, she could see, even younger than herself, though not nearly so foolhardy as many young elves could be. It would make a trade much more difficult, but if she'd had a choice, Yanna would prefer Dae in the hands of a self-proclaimed lordling, rather than a hothead.

The voices started as the young elf was finishing his holier-than-thou tirade, and she could tell by the look on his face, he heard them as clear as she did. She made no movement to look; her eyes were sharp, but she could not see through trees, and in any case, the greater threat was just in front of her. The younger elf, however, did not see it this way. She could see it in the sudden, subtle tensing of his body, the way his shoulders tightened, and he diverted focus form Yanna herself to listen to the distant conversation.

Her canine senses picked up with relative ease the words being spoken well behind her back, as well as the presence of at least one elf, who detected Yanna's and the young one's heritage readily enough. She wondered whether these voices were something to the young elf before her--the way he reacted was anything but apathetic. She was best considering how to use this to her advantage, when he offered her an out himself...only after moving Dae so that she lay almost literally against the edge of his sword.

Every nerve in Yanna's body felt as though it were on fire, and for a moment, she could neither hear, nor see. The young elf might have attacked her then, and she doubted whether she'd have felt pain. As it were she held her breath for a long minute, then slowly released it when the blood had stopped pounding in her ears.

"The child and I take no permanent residence these days. If you wish, I will...escort you to a location you find suitable, and pay your way at an inn. I will make no mention of you. I will even guard your sleep should you wish. This is the best I can offer, as the coming war has made hospitality a luxury."

She forced herself to relax long enough to give him a cold smile. "Rest assured, my loathed presence will be no more than what you require of me, young one."