Zhymos IC

[Torack]

Sir Amalar Amuul - Kingdom of Varathuun - Azuriam

After the meeting the king and and Sir Amalar stayed behind, as they usually do, Sir Amalar looking at the table patiently waiting for the king to give him any information that might be deemed worthy for the ears of the order. "Ufuus, despite constant requests continues to pirate the mainland," the king rubbing his temple "I sent a couple of your men their way a couple of weeks back, as you know, to spy on them and get any intel. We received credible information that they might try their hand on Cthonia. Clearly that won't bode well for us if they're waving our flag."

"Have they already left?"

"Yes, the guards tried to stop them. They retreated after three of their own were killed. I need you to go after them, possibly even kill them if you have to, we don't need another major continent having their eyes on us. And if you would, Amalar, do go with them. Mainly to ensure the main army keeps their mouth shut. They need to know this is a top secret operation."

"Of course, your majesty" Amalar said, nodding. "Any further intel? There's seldom any missions that require my immediate attention or my involvement unless there's something going on.

Nodding the king stood up and started pacing. "Sir Fjamjus of house Frakem is behind the raid. We've received intel that he's financially supporting the raid, also with men."

"He's doing this under the nose of Lord Famas?"

"Not exactly. We're going to hold off the expedition to other countries until further notice. But, you certainly had a man in mind to send onto that mission. Put him to use, tell him to find out what connection Lord Famas has with the pirating party."

Bowing 45 degrees and quickly standing to his full height, Sir Amalar walked out of the hexagon and briskly towards the Dragonsword headquarters.

Lord Famas Tsjaba - Kingdom of Varathuun - leaving Azuriam

The Lord was in a carriage travelling his way back from the meeting towards Ufuus while his slave was managing and calculating the stock that was in store from a previous raid only a few weeks prior across the carriage from him. Though the raid was successful and he had brought in many slaves and riches, it wasn't enough. He had to look elsewhere. That's why he had chosen Cthonia. The other continent was a fortress and their technology would shred his ships to pieces if he even tried, he didn't want to raid them in any case. Nothing worth value... just robots walking about doing robot things. No, he would focus only on Cthonia and his other pirating regions for now.

However, there was a problem. The ship that was leaving for Cthonia had been tried to be stopped by guards, three out of eight of them dying. If he could he would strip the title of the captain of that ship and sell him as a slave. This would surely send the king and those cursed Dragonsword sniffing around. He already had his spies telling him that they knew of the the operation to Cthonia even before it happened, and if they found out he was behind it, he might be called back for another meeting to answer for his crimes.

Lord Famas sighed, his mind working rapidly and efficiently towards hiding his hand in the connection with the Cthonia project.

Lord Kruuz Erithir - Kingdom of Varathuun - Azuriam

Lord Kruuz walked briskly out of the palace of an old friend of his, with his wife by his side, as his colourful and dazzling robes flailed and whipped behind him. He wore extravagant clothes, usually a few layers of different colours, each complimenting the other. Everywhere he walked, Lord Kruuz demanded the attention of passers-bys and pedestrians.

He was a largely muscular man, his muscles hiding in all the clothes he was wearing, although one could tell from his square, manly face that he was one who could take care of his own. As he walked to his carriage he saw Sir Amalar briskly walk by him.

"There, there!" he said, waving a hand up, while the other held the robes off the floor "Who is he, or what, that passes by a dear friend of fathers, except an abomination and an insult!"

"My apologises, my lord," said Sir Amalar turning back to greet the extravagant lord. "Where are my manners. How fare you my lord, and how is the fairest lady of the Kingdom?"

Lady Amala turned her head as if uninterested, though a small smile was clearly visible. "I'm doing well, general," said the lord "how is your father and the family?"

"They are well, I assume. My duties as Dragonsword general have regretfully kept me at bay from my family. Meet them, our city is close and we will be more than happy to arrange a party for your arrival."

Lord Kruuz gave a hearty laugh as he walked "Will do, my boy!" he said, his voice easily reaching Sir Amalar's ears.

Lord Kruuz got into the carriage with his wife and instead of going towards their original destination, Episheer, they headed for Rovalan. The couple, though slightly aged, were quite fond of parties.

[happyhobo2000]

Duke Argon & Lady Massidia of House Icefire
Fortress of Icefire, Duchy of Icefire, Cthonia

Is she.... laughing? Laughing at me? As soon as it started however it stopped, and he wasn't sure if it had happened. There was a big smile however, and he was suspicious. He glared at his sister. "Well, Akrania, I'm Duke Argon. You are currently in my realm of the Duchy of Icefire. More specifically, your in the amethyst mine. Would you like me..." A shove against his steel breastplate from the direction of his sister. "I mean us... us to show you around?" He looked at Massidia as if he was searching to make sure that his reply was okay. Then realizing what he was doing he stormed off suddenly, but not so quickly as to be hostile.

Lady Massidia held out her arm for Akrania. "He doesn't seem to be in the mood. Perhaps I could walk with you?" The red lightning shifted in her eyes. Massidia didn't bother to mention how the girl had almost poked them out.

Lord Balran of House Icefire
South of Strongcrypt, Cthonia

Lord Balran and his twenty armored dwarves stopped. The light shifted off their bronze shields, shining the light in many directions. The clouds were thick but nothless the patrol seemed like a beacon of hope. But it wasn't needed. Half the dwarves glared suspiciously at the person they found... well not quite a person.... and the other half looked around for the source of the music. "Uhhh... Ready stance!" Suddenly the dwarves shifted into a one thick line formation, ten out on each side of Balran. They drew their swords, Balran took out his hammer.

"Sorry, just have to appear professional. This is the Glory company, and I am it's leader, Lord Balran of House Icefire. I've given my name and you already know what I am, so I'd like to know who the hell you are and how your still alive in this hellhole known as Cthonia."

[yoshua171]

Ksærnataikh'i L'shter'n "The Serpent of Ascentus"
The Mainland - Southeastern area

Epic Score - Time Will Remember Us (Gabriel Shadid)

Looking upon the half-mortal Ksær nodded and then a bellowing laugh erupted from his snout and his eyelids shut for a moment as his body shivered in amusement. When they opened again his neck extended and he came incredibly close to the half-mortal who called itself Goren. "I am Ksærnataikh'i L'shter'n however, I know that is far too difficult for the human tongue, or the tongues of most. Simply Ksær will do." his tail flicked slightly once more and his head lifted away, the dragon could smell something unique about this one. It was no mistake that he had called himself a Servant of the Gods of Light, that same sensation emanated from the half-mortal as did from Ksær himself. However the marks that the half-mortal possessed were plainly of a different nature than his own. He was not sure which they were, and the darker taint of...something else also disturbed him. Regardless he did not show it, that would be rude, and he had no reason to truly judge this one. It seemed that not all undead were of horrible nature afterall, rather surprising really.

Arsædor Zerumat "The Rose"
The Mainland

04 - Cazador del Amor

Waiting for her at the top, she arrived in a more surprising way than he had expected. While he merely glimpsed her embarrassment he said nothing at all and instead listened as she questioned him.

“Well? Who’s the big shot mage we need to visit?”

Smiling he waited, feeling she had a bit more than that to say.

“And to bring shame on his name I think it would make more sense not to kill his apprentices and the like unless we really have too. All the better to make it seem the ‘evidence’ against him was always there. You start leaving dead bodies lying around and people ask questions.”

By the time she had finished he was walking towards the other side of the building's roof. Not fast at all, she'd catch up in the shortest of times really. However, as he spoke his hand graced the grip of his blade and then moved away "His name is Fael-ven, he is well known as 'The Warder'." Shaking his head, that same smile on his face, he glanced at her "he is thought to be one of this cities best mages, his specialty is defensive wards." They had dealt with so called experienced mages before, but not one so specialized. He had looked into it and by sensing about the man's manor he had discovered it was truly quite well defended, though one could not visibly see that without the sight endowed by magic.

"We will need to dig our way into his manor, or should I call it a bunker?" Shaking his head he laughed again and picked up the pace, now nimbly jumping from roof to roof. He ceased his talking and concentrated, turning when he had to. They would arrive at the manor in around 5 or so minutes, not long really, though he knew that it was risky having a job so close to the brothel. Then again, what better hiding place than in plain sight?

Acriane "Eærheim".
Cthonia

Intently she listened to each and every of her father's words. He was making some daring moves, she thought, but who was she to talk of daring. She had born the Defiler's child, and braved the mind of Mo'rden. Laughing slightly and seeming pleased with her father's question she replied simply "he earned what I wrought him, now father. I have traveled quite a while, and I am oh so tired of my own home --a hovel in the face of your grand estate-- might I retire in the chambers of the castle tonight?" She tilted her head, it was almost child-like, though the rest of her was plainly not. It was those eyes that bore into one's soul and pulled from it what they sought. She was truly a devil of a women, in oh so many ways.

Akraina
Cthonia - Fortress of Icefire

Smiling slightly as the dwarven man spoke, she could only take a step back when he stormed off, but she then giggled and laughed again. Tears came to her glowing amethyst colored eyes, and fell down her cheeks in glee. Noticing she quickly wiped them away and, albeit sheepishly, nodded to Massidia. When the arm was held out she looked at it curious, not seeming to understand the gesture at all. "I-...I think I would like to see your home, is it...okay?" She was such a hesitant girl, as if each move was to make sure she could trust them, rather different from how most people acted. It was very apparent that she was young, despite her looks which could likely charm many a man. Of course, it did not help that she was extremely exotic and well...essentially in the nude at all times. Amusingly enough, she never seemed at all aware of that oddity, never once.

Ksærnataikh'i L'shter'n

Spoiler

Arsædor Zerumat

Spoiler

Acriane

Spoiler

Akraina

Spoiler

[ClockworkDaisy]

"His name is Fael-ven, he is well known as 'The Warder'." Shaking his head, that same smile on his face, he glanced at her "he is thought to be one of this cities best mages, his specialty is defensive wards." They had dealt with so called experiencedmages before, but not one so specialized. He had looked into it and by sensing about the man's manor he had discovered it was truly quite well defended, though one could not visibly see that without the sight endowed by magic.

"We will need to dig our way into his manor, or should I call it a bunker?"

Taboo listened to him speaking, the rise and fall of his cadence, the light in his eyes, the tightening of his jaw telling her more than his words and she nodded succinctly, her locks bouncing around her face. Reaching up she twisted them quickly into a knotted braid and fell into place behind him. She copied his movements with unerring accuracy, even the rise and fall of her chest matching rhythm with his, and as they lopped across the roof tops any who glanced their way would perhaps for a moment think they were seeing double. It was one of her gifts, mimicry, and she had spent countless hours learning how to fall into rhythm with another.

This had also opened the door to her boudoir abilities growing in fame and demand. Taboo had simply to observe a few of the more popular girls in the Nightingale and she was able to match then supersede them. Her body was the perfect mirror.
Unaware of the true core of her gift Taboo still practised often in front of her mirror, slipping from persona to persona until she sometimes didn’t know just who was the true Taboo.

Ahnia. Her name was Ahnia. Once.

Taboo continued to pad across the rooftops and when he finally stopped she placed her hand gently upon Arsædor’s arm.

“Did you bring dwarves?” Her voice was low and soft.

[Rtron]

Vrangr

Cthonia - Close to Vortas

Vrangr chuckled as Acriane tilted her head in a child-like manner after saying that the man had earned. Good. The best revenge is revenge against an opponent who earned it. Speaking to his daughter he said "Of course my dear. You know the castle doors are always open to you." With that, they reached the gates of Vortas. Vrangr opened the doors and ushered in his daughter with a bow, thinking with a gleam in his eye of the meeting soon to happen. "Ah daughter, I nearly forgot. There's a man who claims he's the representative of the Shadowwalkers. He's been asking for you for quite some time now, and I'm nearly ready to roast him. So, please, go see what he wants, he won't speak of it to me, claiming it's dark god servant business only."

Goren
Mainland - Near the Serpent and Shoryu

Goren bowed to the giant dragon. "A pleasure to meet you Ksaer." He then turned to the other dragon, relieved that he wasn't roasted alive. "And what, good sir, may your name be?" Goren asked. It is good that the dragon did not roast me alive. Acriane is still at large and I've a feeling she's connected to 'The Fallen Will Rise Again' I've no idea what it means, but it can not bode well for Zhymos. Goren thought as he waited.

Cthonia - Headquarters of the Wolves of Light

The Commander sat at her desk with a satisfied air. The Patrols had all returned, stating that yes indeed there had been Shadowwalkers, and they had been dealt with, along with any and all who opposed them. Then, a Beta rushed in. "Commander! The sentries said that undead messengers were sent out, going faster than we thought possible yesterday." The Commander nodded she had been reported to of this. "The messengers returned. And in the distance behind them, there could be seen several Infernal Legions. Full Regiment." The Commander nearly knocked her chair over, standing up as fast as possible. "Alright, set up the fortress defenses! I want full defense gear and position. It won't take long for them listen to the angry undead population and attack. Also, send 3 of the fastest messengers to the Duchy of Icefire. We will need help." The Beta nodded, and ran out shouting orders. A few minutes later, Messengers could be seen racing out of the fort. While others could be seen manning the walls, waiting for the inevitable attack. It would be a long while before reinforcements arrived. If reinforcements arrived.

[Draconilian]

Adair listened to Kel'ran's proposal with interest, (Hmm, Someone to travel with, I have never traveled with another, I should certainly not blindly trust him, but otherwise, why not?)
Adair snapped the rod of ice he was holding in two and flung the pieces to the ground, burying them both into the soil. "Sure, why not. Your name? Or what you'll have me call you, if that's not convenient."
Still showing an uncharacteristic amount of trust, (probably unhealthy as well) Adair didn't notice what was behind him, even his sharp senses didn't detect it.

Another Kolyok, this one far more terrifying, sneaking up behind the werewolf. Somehow entirely stealthy.

================================================== ====

Ark had no clue what to say to this peculiar specimen in front of him. "Harbinger? I've never heard of that, what is it? what are you? some sort of, cyborg thing?"
Ark was fairly curious at this point, but still a little scared by this one in front of him. It was as large as he was, but not a true Dragon. Not in Ark's mind at least.

[yoshua171]

Arsædor Zerumat "The Rose"
The Mainland

04 - Cazador del Amor

“Did you bring dwarves?”

"Dwarves? I didn't quite mean that kind of digging Tabby," smiling as he looked at her his expression began to shift as he looked at the mage's abode. It had high walls and while there were no real guards there were several rather small towers each which he knew held specific focuses for the variety of wards that wreathed the structure. Sending aloft the magitek nanobots he let them travel until he could feel them hit the wards, setting off no alarms, the outer wards were not designed as such, they also weren't designed against magitek, something that was rare on the mainland.

The nanobots began to pierce the wards, not damaging them, but bending them or traveling along the magical pathways. To the common observer it would not appear as if anything was occurring. To the common mage, the tiniest of disturbances might be felt, but to an archmage it would be obvious what was going on. Luckily for them, the man known as Fael-ven was no archmage, though considerable were his skills.

"Get ready, I am going to throw you," Arsædor took his blade from its place at his side, and the vine that held it around his waist retracted and vanished. The blade appeared as if still sheathed and he let it down, focusing his energies into something of a platform. Taboo would be able to stand upon the blade, and with him channeling his energies through it he'd be able to use it like a sling shot. "Once you land on the wall, I need you to take out the crystals so that I can get in as well. I will wait by the south gate, make sure you also down the crystals, make it look as if they malfunctioned, not as if destroyed. If you have to damage them, make it appear as an accident."

He waited for her response and if it came and was negative he'd comment "trust me, have I ever let you down? Besides, the pay off is magnificent, and would I ever do something to harm such a beautiful pearl?" If she did not question his actions then he'd lift the blade, her balanced on it, and at the correct moment he would swing, sending her flying from the blade propelled for the correct distance by a magical projection. Once near the wall the last of his magical energies would access the magitek and make it seem as if the warp was flickering from a natural disturbance. This would allow her to pass through and it'd also slow her speed so she could land atop the wall without breaking or damaging herself. From there it was up to her, if successful he'd jump from the building, using his nanotek to briefly slow his own fall and then head for the south gate.

Acriane "Eærheim".
Cthonia

Her smile reaching her eyes now she hugged her father tightly and then let go, brushing herself off as they walked into the vicinity of his abode. As he began to speak of the shadow walkers her brow raised in surprise "what ever could they want from one such as me," there was some obvious sarcasm in her voice, but it spoke volumes as to how she attempted to portray some twisted form of humility when she was so obviously haughty. Brushing a lock of her purple locks from her face she nodded and thought briefly until she met her father's eyes, he was such a handsome Vrogreon. "Would you be a dear and have one of your men lead me to this shadow walker? I would love to hear what drivel it has to say." It seemed today would be eventful, it felt good, very good. Nodding her head she waited for Vrangr --her father-- to respond. He was quite the leader, his movement of the people was intriguing, as was his complete dominance, quite a feat considering the race's natural mentality.

Arsædor Zerumat

Spoiler

Acriane

Spoiler

The Epic of Arkaeis Zraimat:
The Chimeric avail of bias.
Realms Beyond ---> The Mainland - Amras Annare - Chorikos


As clear as they'd ever seen, as clear as the sky, as clear even as the murkiness of water, it was as clear as mud in their muddled minds. Writhing, CHAOTIC, then silent. Absolute dominance came over them, reverence, respect, all except one listened and waited for command, all but Amusement who looked upon the world now from his Skazkic embodiment, though ethereal form it had taken. They had watched now for hundreds of years, waiting for their ephemeral kin to stay in the hands of one who could truly wield its might. Four and one more score years ago, five centuries in total --fifty in its approximation-- it had done so. Amusement now looked down on the world, around it, into it, and viewed it from the perspective of its wielder, the wielder of Ohqumor'lahz.

The perspective of a blade is strange you see as it is not localized like our own, the eyes of mortals, or even from the eyes of the skazka in all their varied glory, no. A blade's perspective, for those few whom truly can have such a thing, is upon its edge, its cutting edge is its eye, its shaft the nerves, and its hilt and grip a brain. Similarly the core of its length is much like a heart, when shattered the blade has died. This was not such a simple blade and it experienced reality in the skazkic sense, it felt and 'saw' all around it, it experienced itself and its wielder as an innate part of its narrative. Now, now the man who held it had held it for over 50 years, and wielded it for exactly that amount.

He was the leader of a mercenary band, his name had been Or-khet, he was half human, more than a quarter elffenol, and only the slightest bit of Sanzora. He had a strange bloodline really, but the bit of Sanzora had come from a distant relative really, oh well. Really it didn't matter who Or'khet had been, he would soon not be as he had once been, and he would cease to exist as Or-khet entirely, well mostly at least. As Amusement watched it looked to its kin and then to the blade, they knew Or-khet was tired and with the simplest of persuasions he would sway and attack his own. You see the man had been wielding a blade that remained on Zhymos for one purpose, to corrupt and weaken. It had done its job and since Or'khet's day had been particularly difficult, goblins attacking, trades gone wrong, it would be particularly easy to sway his mood ever so slightly.

"Or-khet, should we not set camp here? Day does wane around us and still you trudge, as if mindless of those who follow you." It was Isrindil, a Sanzora who held the position of 2nd command in their wondrous mercenary band. Oh how they loved to watch the mortals dance, and prance about their play, unaware that today was no longer their day.

'Hihihihihhihihih
hehehehehehehe
HAHAHAHHAAHHAhaahahahahhihihhehe' voices laughed and frowned about within the chimeric existence of the watchful skazka. Or-khel turned on Isrindil and gave him a look "W'y we need be stoppin'? I ain' tired. You men!?!?" There was a low grumble and in response Or-khel's enthusiasm waned greatly. His hand upon his blade --as he thought it-- he drew it and looked to Isrindil a moment, then he glanced behind his friend and felt he saw somethin' skittering in the darkness, many dangerous somethings. Yet, it was day, when had this abysmal fog come upon them? The others seemed entirely unaware, and then there was a whispering and where his friend had been now was nothing but writhing shadows. "Come now, are we not like brothers Or-khet, can we not rest a while?"

Staggering back a few steps, fear had entered the mortals eyes, and again the skittering dark-things, no darklings!! "Darklings!! To arms men!" the mercenaries, though he could barely see him, frowned and looked around, it was day time darklings could not come near. For a moment they put their hands upon hilt and readied for battle, but there were none. Or-khet only worsened in his madness and as Isrindil stepped forwards he slashed out with the blade of madness, the blade of a with a Touched Disposition, the blade that was part of something much greater than themselves.

THEY STRUCK. The blade touched and cut through Isrindil like paper, stronger and much sharper than it had been before. Isrindil fell in half and the other mercenaries stared in utter shock at their leader's crime. They shook their heads in disbelief, but then the anger came and a charge, but in an instant a true darkness, swirling and abyssal, struck out from the man who had been Or-khet and held back the oncoming tide of men. Swirling forces, the realms beyond were broken, the dream and spirit realms breached, and the middle realm of Zhymos open to the proddings of at least one, many, thousands, trillions, a collective entity THE COLLECTIVE ENTITY.

"Ahhh~~, the air is so sweet here," at this point they came to their senses and charged they did, with all their might hoping to impale the man from all sides at once. The man didn't miss a beat, his eyes briefly acknowledged them, and then he appeared to vanish moments before their blades touched his form. Their blades overshot, went too far, and a great many of them injured one another, or simply crossed blades creating a flattened platform, a platform which the man's foot alighted on. "Ah ah ah~," he wagged his finger, and then with a single spin he proclaimed, his blade lashing out --the same blade that had allowed him entrance-- "one must introduce themselves before murder is in order."

A cruel look was in his eyes as many of the troupe's heads were sheared right off, as if they were lumps of butter sitting upon their shoulders. Those who survived struck up, or withdrew their blades, but the man had vanished again, jumping up and backflipping right over them all to land, and dash forwards and enter the throng of their bodies.

Blood, in blade shaped streams moved in every which direction until each man fell, all but one, Isrindil still lived. The man turned and seeming to recall something, sighed as he took out a handkerchief and wiped off his blade. "I do apologize, that was rude, I told them to introduce themselves before attempting murder on another, but then did not do so myself." Isrindil, began to rise as best he could, and reached for his blade, perhaps revenge could be sought? He knew now that the man who had cut him could not have been his dear friend: Or-khet. "I often forget how easily mortals are slain," the man flicked the blade, sending glittering droplets of blood into Isrindil's face, blood that had come from his comrades, his brothers in arms.

The Sanzora rose to his feet, magic beginning to mend the cut, it had not cut him completely in half, but it was deep and horizontal. He reached his blade, and in his slitted reptilian eyes there rose fury. "By the grace of the void and The Honor Bound Goddess I shall cut thy head and let it tumble to the ground and mar its great surface!!" Rage filled his form, dulled his pain, and he swung, but in the man's eyes there was only serenity and amusement. A clang of metals as the blades caught each other in a wondrous embrace, the embrace that was battle.

"How cute~" Isrindil's enemy said as their blades made sparks as children. A hand rose, the man's free hand, and the Sanzora's eyes widened. How could he possibly, that had been a two handed strike! "Merci-" a head rolled, smacking the floor, and marring it further with blood. The man turned and looked now as those he had merely injured rose. Chuckling he bowed to them lowly, only to rise again. "Since you still live, I suppose you deserve my name before you join your brothers as well. I am The Chimeric Avail of Bias, but you...you may call me Arkaeis, or Zraimat. Arkaeis Zraimat is also perfectly~ fine" a laugh exuded, but then his eyes shifted once more, in feeling that is, they took on a look of fear, and his entire aura shifted. Nearby he could feel someone, and he'd love to put on for them a show. So he waited, blade shaky in his hands, and did his best to fend off the injured assailants.

Afterall, a new actor would soon come, he'd have to look his best, but not truly, that would be wholly insane, crazier than the craziest of craziest, and more brazen then the uncouth who faced him now. Afterall, he was only a man named Zraimat fighting off what remained of a band of mercenaries, fighting for his very life...right?

[Closet Nerd]

Ruthan o Paramythás

~~Akomikai

It was morning and the sun just began to bear it's bright crest upon the crust of the earth. The orange hues illuminated the clouded sky and varily fought off the shadows of the hill below. Upon the foot of this hill was laid a large cottage of wood where the students of the area resided and studied. A single ribbon of sunlight cut through the window of the room where Ruthan was commissioned.

"I thank you so much for all of this Master Glennan, you've been so sweet to me these past years," Ruthan said to her teacher of Frost, "I truly do not know what I will do without you after I have gone."

"Well, being left in a ditch somewhere is a possibility," he jested with a warm chuckle escaping from his lengthy beard, "But perhaps you will do more than I, Lamia. That brain of yours certainly isn't getting any smaller."

Ruthan let out a smooth laugh, "Neither will my ego, if you would continue handing me such compliments," she said as she slipped a gauntlet over her arm as familiarly as a glove. A sleeve was draped over it without an assisting hand as she used a pinch of magic rather than exert any bodily energy in the small matter. Ruthan took hold of the handle poking out from a white scabbard bent against the wall near the exit.

"Hold a moment," Glennan stopped Ruthan before she could open the door to turn and hand her a long gift clad in silks. "I have prepared a sword for your departure, lest you become stricken on your quest." He pulled the cover away to reveal a sword with a gemmed hilt and a wide, shining blade like the sun's mirrored glitter off a cool lake. The sunlight reflecting from it gave it an eerie glow of gold. The generosity of this extravagant gift left Ruthan in awe. "Only the best for my best student."

She struggled to gather her words and at length she replied, "It is beautiful. I shall wear this upon my belt with pride," she said like a knight about to ride out into battle.

"Pride you have surely earned. Now I beseech you, ride. Destiny does not wait for drawn out goodbyes, Ruthan."

The last part surprised her and Ruthan found herself confused. She had not heard of her real name from anything except wanted posters for years. Her last thought was that he said this with the same friendliness as ever and a smile curled over her lips. Her arms opened as she grabbed Glennan for a hug. "I shall sorely miss you, old man." With that, she replaced her old blade for her prize and laced it's scabbard about her belt. Ruthan left the cottage and unhitched her horse and rode through the grassy plains to her beloved Reginald.

~~Chorikos - Wind Province of Amras Annare

Two days later, Ruthan has marched to the southeast coast of Amras Annare to the farmer's village of Chorikos. She had heard stories a week before of a queer automaton apprenticing for a blacksmith. The rumors even spoke of the vessel conjuring lightning from it's fingertips when some bandits attempted to run the place over. She rode in about a local inn in search of extra provisions and news of this blacksmith. She asked ahead to the man at the head counter of some food and a place to repair a piece of armor.

"Well, we have a kitchen here but it ain't much, I'll have my errandboy Linus send some food. As for the blacksmith, it would seem to me as if you would have came with armor that was intact, by the looks of that dress and that blade." he replied, not very trusting about Ruthan on the second question. "Perhaps some cold pieces could loosen my lips." Like most innkeepers around this kingdom, this man apparently enjoyed currency more than manners. Ruthan wasn't all too happy but concealed it long enough to stroke the counter with her armored fingertip, sending a small trail of ice shooting toward the man's hand, freezing his fingers to the surface of the wood carvings. The man let out a shriek and swung his free hand to Ruthan, his arm sweeping nothing but air as she ducked under then took hold of his wrist before he could send forth another attempted blow.

"Now, I thought innkeepers were hospitable," she mocked lightly. "Tell me where the blacksmith is, please." Her words were more deliberate this time, softening to a sweet coo at the last word. The innkeeper told her exactly where the smithy was and was released of both his bonds for his compliance. Ruthan left with a smile while taking her served food and left the recompense for both it and any frostbite that may be involved.

Ruthan rode to the smithy and began to converse with him about a bit of mail that had came undone in a 'tournament'. She could see Reginald who was almost overcome by his enthusiasm but immediately remembered his low profile position and left it alone. When the smith was not looking, Ruthan tossed a bolt to a nearby stack of hay which began to kindle. Within moments it started aflame and the smith frantically began to try and put out the fire. When he turned, he found that neither Ruthan nor his robotic apprentice were present. In his rage, he cried out, "Thief! Thief" and did not notice that an ember set the next bale of hay aflame, which in turn lit his shack. The entire village was left in a chaotic clamor as half of the townspeople attempted to stop the fleeing thief and the other half attempted to quell the flames that were growing far too rapidly. The crowd clashed against itself in it's state of confusion leaving the pair to hurriedly search for Ruthan's steed.

[ClockworkDaisy]

"Dwarves? I didn't quite mean that kind of digging Tabby," smiling as he looked at her his expression began to shift as he looked at the mage's abode.

Taboo looked to her feet a moment then glanced back upwards following Arsædor’s eyes. She let her hand fall from his arm onto the hilt of her knife, the other reaching to pull out a longer blade much like a scimitar and weighed it in the palm of her hand. Not in any way ostentatious it was the opposite of a jewelled blade, with no decoration bar the nicks in the blade it suggested nothing so much as that it had been well used, well cared for and was functional in the extreme. To the right sort of observer the quality of its make would have spoken volumes.

"Get ready, I am going to throw you," Arsædor took his blade from its place at his side, and the vine that held it around his waist retracted and vanished. The blade appeared as if still sheathed and he let it down, focusing his energies into something of a platform. Taboo would be able to stand upon the blade, and with him channeling his energies through it he'd be able to use it like a sling shot. "Once you land on the wall, I need you to take out the crystals so that I can get in as well. I will wait by the south gate, make sure you also down the crystals, make it look as if they malfunctioned, not as if destroyed. If you have to damage them, make it appear as an accident."

“Throw me?” Taboo blinked, her usually unshakeable veneer slipping from existence for a moment. She drew a sharp breath, running through the outcomes in her head and bent to tighten her boot laces, face unreadable.

"trust me, have I ever let you down? Besides, the pay off is magnificent, and would I ever do something to harm such a beautiful pearl?"

He always said just the right thing to annoy her just enough to get what he wanted. Beautiful Pearl… He cannot be serious. When she rose her calm was restored and she stepped onto the blade, balanced upon the balls of her feet. Her eyes were locked forward on her destination and as she was lifted through the air, Taboo imagined herself diving as if into water.
Her mind turned towards the crystals at the gate and she sent up a very strong prayer to the universe that the disruption would work. Please, work, please work. I don’t want to dive headfirst into a battle.. again. Her whole body ached with the thought of Arsædor r failing her and she shook herself visibly, her momentarily failing confidence restoring itself. Arsædor is a professional. You know that, idiot. A shimmering of light seemed to play before her eyes, flaring brightly and then she was passing through the wards, rolling to her feet upon the walls top to await his presence.
“You are so useful you know that?” She complimented as he landed beside her. “In the old days, before I met you, I would have had to seduce the mage or his chamberlain.. someone like that to gain access. Maybe hire someone to gift me a spell or two so I could get through, now I have you. “
She pivoted on her feet looking around them, crouching forward to look into the yard below.
“Wards, a couple of guards.. I thought this was going to be a challenge. Go team.”

[Torack]

Sir Amalar Amuul - Northern borders of Varathuun

Sir Amalar had briefed the Dragonsword agents prior to their departure and giving to each of them a specific role occupying the and detaining the pirates headed for Cthonia. A few questions by the agents and clarifications and they were off riding hastily towards the northern borders where they would try to intercept the pirate ship before it had any chance to reach Cthonia's borders. Their command if they did happen to see the pirate ship was to destroy it and leave nothing behind. Although, it was clear to Sir Amalar the ship was too far ahead for them to intercept. They'd have but little choice but to ambush them within Cthonia

Sir Amalar got down from his horse and looked up at the ship they would be taking. It wasn't all that much, but they needed to stay hidden as this was a covert mission, and any sign of them being part of Dragonsword or anything to do with the king would lead the enemies off. No, this ship would have to do in all of it's... simplicity. She's a good ship, the owner had encouraged him, Amalar crossing his arm across his chest. Seeing as they would have little choice, he docked with his relatively small group of men, denying any intervention from the army, loaded any and all of their provisions and set sail towards Cthonia. He could clearly see, however, his men were eager for battle. They haven't seen action in a while and they thirsted for blood, for Dragonsword agents had transcended beyond normal men. They were elite and death was as much of their lives as breathing. It was second nature to them. Soon, Amalar thought to himself allowing a small smile to form on his face as the ocean air hit his face and he took a deep breath at its wonderfulness. Even monsters among men were subject to such beauties.

Ramoutejes- The Dark King of the Northern Tundras

After a century of slumber, Ramoutejes awoke. An anti-climatic awakening where he stood from his throne, his person and form shifting and altering as if it were behind a heat wave. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked to his right, where his double-headed flail lay, next to his throne and took it before he walked forward two steps, turned right and took a step back, he was now on the roof of his tower overlooking the tundra that was his kingdom.

It was near. He could smell it. His second blight would soon begin upon the mainland, his men were for too long inactive and idle. No longer. But first, before he did any of that he would need a newer army, an army that could withstand the blows of men and other races and knew exactly where to look. He devised a course of action as he played with the silver ring that shined in the sunlight. He then noticed it. Something indeed was off. He looked up and beheld the might of the noble sun. With a grunt he uttered a spell in a language long forgotten in the mainland and blotted out the sun above him for a ten mile radius with dark, black clouds.

Much better. He then continued to devise battle strategies for what would be the first campaign in his march to take control over the mainland as he had many, many centuries ago. He stood there devising and planning for what seemed days and days, for indeed they were days simply standing upon his tower and replaying outcomes over and over, calculating their chances of success. After a few days he was satisfied with a plan. It would take time to even begin the first phase, but the sooner he started the closer he could feel his grasp upon the world.

Ramoutejes looked up at the cloudy sky and read a poem aloud. Yet, this was no ordinary poem. This was a poem of that long forgotten tongue, none except dragons, kuratchi, and other skazka remember such a dark, rich, gritty - yet beautiful language, a poetic language devised by the Dark King himself of such magnificence and poetic art that could turn the strongest, toughest man into a weeping puddle if used in the correct manner. But his poetry was a double edged sword, he could devise it and use it in such a way it would strike fear and horror in those who heard it, for such was the power of this language, such was the force behind each word. He read the poem and ordered his voice to carry itself so it could be heard all throughout the mainland, proclaiming in his deep, rich voice how he had returned and beckoning his Iaz'gul to council. Ten minutes the poem sounded, a warning for what was to come, for those who indeed take heed.

After his recitation the world seemed to fall into a deep, thick, palpable silence for a few seconds before it went back to normal. Shortly after, Ramoutejes heard the roar of the dragons belonging to the Iaz'gul as they neared his tower. Fourteen roars that shook the tower and Ramoutejes himself. Fifteen where the Iaz'gul, the remaining one, known as the King of the Damned resided in the southernmost swamps acknowledging his master's call for he would not be summoned on this day, he was to wait and grow his army of the Corrupted. When the signal came, he would fly north with the massive army to wreck havoc and destroy all that is pure and light. Not yet, however. Ramoutejes, having discussed the plans with the King of the Damned in secret prior, needed now to inform the rest of the Iaz'gul. When the signal came he would march and not a moment sooner.