Avalon ~ Castle Gandryll

Avalon stood in front of the King, his wet hair still sticking to his hollowed cheekbones and his long jacket creating a noticeable puddle on the wooden floor. Castle Gandryll, sometimes known as the Castle in the Sky, was as much of a prison as a palace. It was a formidable stronghold on a mountain that was nestled within 200 ft. redwood trees that set it high above the surrounding city. The vast network of bridges, pulley operated elevators and ladders made it impenetrable during war, but extremely inconvenient to access for someone with legitimate business there. It did have its own infrastructure and those living there could easily survive without needing to venture down from their dwelling within the thick branches. However, despite being constructed of beautifully polished woods and glittering auburn stone, it lacked warmth. A kind of decay seemed to hang in the air, as if the place was rotting from the inside out.

"You redecorated," Avalon stated stonily, glancing around the throne room that was now draped with rich furs and ornaments. "As your economic advisor, I told you that your coffers could not support such luxurious purchases."

"You know, they're all gifts. This is the month of my birthday and I am still receiving presents from across the Four Kingdoms, as is customary - you ought to know. And I don't think I've received one from you," King Leolin glanced accusingly at Avalon who unflinchingly met his eyes. To Avalon, King Leolin was a petulant child playing dress-up who believed that merely wearing a crown gave him all the power of a kingdom. It was only his first year on the throne but he should have learned by now that no gift comes free.

At closer inspection, the furs that draped the walls and covered the floor were actually softly oiled silvery fish skin, most likely mermaid, that caught the candle light and cast it across the entire room in soft spectral rays. Old tight fisted Siorus would not be this generous unless he wanted something in return. Avalon still did not know how to respond to King Maxen and Queen Meiriona's contribution to Leolin's birthday celebration. Did they know what they had actually sent when they gifted the snow leopard? Aurelia had yet to recognize the occasion, and with the month coming to a close, the move could be interpreted as thinly veiled disapproval.

"I am here to talk about your operatives. It has not been an easy day," Avalon removed his jacket, revealing heavily bruised arms and long scratches that spanned from his throat to his chest. They appeared to have only just begun to scab over.

"So you haven't been able to control Kucing? I thought you were a bit better than this." Leolin raised his eyebrow, visibly taken aback by Avalon's wounds.

"No, these I received protecting Gideon from himself. He is very skillful, but prone to outbursts. I believe he got in an altercation with Sel, but I won't jump to conclusions. I told you this project was high risk and you encouraged me to press on. The Empusa I reached out to has proven to be high functioning and very appropriate for this work, which will hopefully compensate for Kucing. She is unable to remain in her human transformation for much time and is very unstable. I think being around other Canavar will help stabilize her," Avalon replied, picturing the recruits and wincing a bit internally.

"I thought you promised me a unit, four half-wild Canavar is not nearly the quality nor the number that I require. I trusted you to protect me and I feel surrounded by uncaged beasts." Leolin grimaced, the disgust displayed widely across his face.

"I do see beasts surrounding you, but they're not my Canavar. They are the Lords and Ladies of Gandryll who are seeking to devour you alive. I do my best to protect you, but you make it extremely difficult to do so when you blatantly ignore most, if not all, of my advising. I have sworn my loyalty and I will do all I can to keep you in power, but you must prove yourself worthy of the throne or all of my work is useless," Avalon said coldly through tight lips. He spun around on his heel, picked up his still damp jacket and walked from the throne room without looking back. "Duty calls, but hopefully my report enlightened you. I will meet with you again upon the morrow."

The rain clouds had broken and the deep sienna of the sinking sun lit up the forest surrounding the castle in hues of red and orange that made it appear to be aflame. It was both comforting and terrifying, a feeling Avalon was very familiar with. The castle was devoid of people as everyone had retired to their beds and the noises of the forest hung heavy in the air. He walked outside until he came to a ledge. Below one could see brief glimpses of Gandryll's City Center through the thick canopy of trees. He paused for a moment, taking it all in, before letting himself fall forward. He travelled through the air, feeling the wind whipping around his hair and clothing. The ground was nearing and he felt the familiar drop in his heart, the instinctive fear response that this sense of plummeting always created, no matter how many times he did it. He kept falling until he could almost count the stones on the ground before him. The fear blinded him, it always did, and his vision went dark. But, just when he was sure his body would crash upon the paving, he felt the familiar lift. His vision had returned and he could now see little details that he had missed before and his hearing now allowed him to identify each separate noise within the wave of sound. Vast silver wings carried him through the air and Gandryll become smaller and smaller, shrinking below him as currents of air pushed him upwards. Avalon constantly kept his emotions in check but moments like this - the freedom of flight in the light of the moon - was enough release to keep him sane and doing his job for a little while longer.

When he had landed and recovered his clothing, he travelled to the base of the castle where sturdy lodges for the servants were built into gnarled roots. Night had fully fallen and the darkness was almost oppressive as lights were largely forbidden after dark for fear of accidental fires. Beyond this area were thick thorns that grew protectively around the base of the castle. Avalon navigated them deftly and came to a door obscured by leaves and growth. Within was a hidden annex that was once used to house political prisoners. Only the King and his advisor knew of it and though it did not serve the purpose it was intended for, it proved a perfect safe house for the Canavar.

He stepped inside and was met with the warm glow of a lantern. Within the lantern was an orange orb of light that bobbed up and down, occasionally knocking against the glass. It was a will-o-wisp, known to the people of Gandryll as Ghost Candles. They had been outlawed and identified as contraband, but that did not keep Avalon from making use of them. This lantern was held by an angular looking young man, Sel, whose fiery hair could never brighten the haunted darkness that hung in his eyes. Sel set up the lantern in the center of the room and the utilitarian furnishings became visible. There were a number of bunks set into the wall as well as a hearth for cooking. One door led into a large fortified room that Avalon had turned into a training area and another which revealed a long and convoluted passageway into the underbelly of the castle. It was sparse but well outfitted with everything they needed.

Avalon stood by the lantern, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. Three others emerged from the within the annex and when they stood in the light, Avalon saw clearly how motley they were. They originated from all corners of the Four Kingdoms and from all stations in life. It would be a challenge to unite them, but that was the most important part of training. If they could work together, they could be unstoppable. But at the moment, the likelihood of that remained questionable.

"I have your first mission. I have been following the news regarding Lady Taliesin's missing son. My sources have provided me information regarding a recent payment she made to Wolfsbane, a pair of assassins operating out of West Gandryll. That's not quite the search and rescue team I had expected. Further information revealed that Wolfsbane was unsuccessful. The surviving member spoke of a beast that appeared out of nowhere who gutted her partner before escaping into the forest. This is more than enough to raise suspicion that there is a Canavar involved. Prepare yourselves, we will begin our search in City Center upon daybreak. This mission is about information gathering, you will need to be discreet and perceptive. Although, at this point, I do not think we are the only ones searching for the young Taliesin. Be prepared. That's all, goodnight."

Empie- Canavar Cavern

Currently the demon girl sat with legs crossed and red eyes staring down where a selection of little wooden tiles had been seemingly randomly scattered. Avalon had taught her the game to try and keep her hands out of his and the rest of the populaces pockets. It was a simple enough game, each tile had a picture or number, you had to take a pair of tiles at a time but they couldn't be obstructed by other tiles boxing them in or partly covering them. She'd played it hundreds of times but had one maybe twice in that whole time, it was infuriating but she wanted to get good so she could learn something else. Ever since she'd met Avalon he'd been teaching her new things and secretly she thought she was his favourite, though why wouldn't she be? A vulture who spent his time brooding, a demon thing that couldn't do anything without going beserk and a feral cat who would only let Avalon near her on her terms. She was far more suited for this little task force and Avalon knew it, not that she'd boast as much to the others, even the vulture could probably beat her up in a fair fight, not that she ever fought fair mind you.

The game frustrated her and with a low growl, followed by a hiss she pushed over the stack and put them back in the velvet drawstring pouch Avalon kept them in, pouting rather fiercely as she did so. Avalon had gone out and left them all here to 'get along', it was rather unfair in Empie's eyes, though at least here she didn't need the blindfold, the other three didn't seem perturbed by her eyes, which was a first for her. They weren't all bad, on cold night Kucing wouldn't mind if the others came close and rested near her, it was almost as if she were used to it, Sel wasn't always boring, he put up with her teasing so he couldn't be that bad right? As for Gideon...well he'd never attacked her personally so that would do, one big dysfunctional family with poor old Papa Avalon at the head. There were times the man came home with his veins looking fit to burst and she assumed the King had probably said, done or asked something to stress him that much.

Putting the bag of tiles at the end of her bunk she slipped with the graceful ease of a sneak thief to one of the windows high up in their little cavernous home, the breeze refreshed her as did the chill from the stone, through the thin slit of a window, Avalon had told her it was wear archers would have been stationed in times of war, she could see the city blanketed in night, it was peaceful and with the moon peeking over the redwoods, the stars littering the sky and the rain causing the gentle pattering sounds against the stone. It was nice to have a roof over her head again, she didn't care that it was more military like than most people were used to, cohabiting, bunks, cold stones and lit by little strange living fires but it was home.

While her eyes watched the city slumbering she spotted a flash of heat, small for a human but large for a bird, he was hard to make out but his body heat helped her follow him for a while. Idly she wondered how her real family would have reacted if she'd had such a beautiful transformation, she liked to think that she'd still be at home with them even now. It should have made her nostalgic, upset but all her tears for those people had long since dried up, it had been so long she'dd even started to forget what they looked like. Oh there had been good times when she was young but she remembered those like a far away dream, the bad always lingered more than the good, when Avalon was out of sight the girl slipped from her stony seat and hopped easily back down to the floor. She felt a rush of excitement, Avalon often had news, be it a new Canavar or just news from the King it was always exciting, not a exciting as pick pocketing but she was only allowed to do that on special occasions now.

Sel slipped away, off to meet Avalon no doubt and so Empie wiggled over to the table, grinning and trying to desperately hide her enthusiasm. In came the stoic bird people, it made her wonder if all birds were grumpy, looking as serious as ever, it was a shame, both would be rather pretty if they only learned to smile now and then. Could birds even smile? Maybe she'd ask later. Her eyes idly slipped over to her bunk where her small pouch of pretty things threatened to poke out, she wanted to rush over and tuck it further beneath the pillow but it was too late for that now. Avalon would probably take them away, he'd taken away everything else she'd stolen but she'd managed to hide that pouch, she slept better with a few diamonds under her head.

With the light now spilling into the room Empie straightened up, grinning at the two men as sweetly and innocently as the imp like nature allowed, her 'innocent' look wasn't much helped by the attire the girl wore, Avalon had traded her rags for real clothes when he'd saved her from the streets. Dresses and skirts but they didn't suit or help her really, so they'd changed it again and she now looked rather like a pirate, dark brown stained leather trousers were strapped in place around her thighs and waist, a white off the shoulder blouse pinned down by a dark coloured corset pulled tight enough to show off her naturally thin figure. She wore slippers rather than boots, finding them easier to move in and made of soft breathable fabric. The only thing out of place was the neck collar she wore, Avalon had tried but he wasn't parting the white haired girl from that necklace and so h'ed stopped trying. "Your back!" Her voice softly feminine but in her excitement a little high pitched and shrill. "Did yo-" Movement caught her attention and she watched a naked, wet Kucing slink over to the edge of the light and had to try hard not to burst out laughing, Avalon wouldn't be overly pleased, even Empie could smell the forest on the woman.

Avalon began speaking and Empie listened, the graveness of the situation seemed to completely miss her but after Avalon was done the girl seemed positively electric. "Yes! Finally! Team Avalon are going to get their freak on." She whooped, half skipping half dancing over to soggy Avalon, without breaking stride she span up onto tip toe and placed a kiss on his cheek, she knew he wouldn't be amused but it amused her. "Night night." She cooed, ducking out the way, she'd been hit too often at home and on the streets to not have such an instinctual reaction, she frolicked back to her bunk.

Lior was finally content.

This was a rather new feeling for him, as the insane juggling act of living on the street, avoiding being found, and finding ways to keep fed had been an all consuming terror for the past year. The complete change in lifestyle had been shocking for the young lordling. He occasionally regretted not pocketing at least a few cups or candlesticks to pawn off on the way. But finally.. finally, he was getting the hang of things. He straightened his threadbare green shirt for the utmost time that evening, idly thumbing at the sloppy stitches which marred the once-fine fabric. Still, at least he had managed to buy green thread, and his harp still had strings and that night, he would be allowed to sleep by the fire. Things were most definitely looking up. Hurriedly he gathered up his harp in both arms and shuffled it delicately down the staircase.

The tavern he had chosen was by no means the most classy of establishments. This was part of the reason he had chosen the venue. Steering clear of high society or rubbing elbows with any familliar faces had been his goal of the past 12 months. Lior previously had never even set foot in a tavern. He had read about them sometimes, when he would sneak a book from the great dusty library in the manor, under the pretense of study. He had heard stories of pirates who would quench their thirst in bars and pubs then go on to have fist fights and play cards and trade for knives. He had thought it had all sounded rather barbarian. His upbringing had been strict and clean, with elegant ballrooms and gilded gold plates.

The Boar’s Head was no such establishment. But so far no one had had a knife fight, and the card games looked relatively mundane and mostly for coin. Lior dodged a few dusty well-travelled looking gentleman, and the innkeeper gave him a brisk nod. She was a woman of middling age with hair the colour of dark brewed beer, and a plain bandana bound about her head to keep her curls from spilling across her shoulders. It had taken him two nights of skulking about and a short practice performance to convince her to allow him to be the evenings entertainment. Harp’s weren’t usual tavern fare he supposed, but his voice and playing had convinced her well enough. He nearly tripped as he made his way to the upturned crate that would serve as his seat, and a tittering of laughter rolled through the sparse crowd. Lior made a good show of ruefully mussing his silvery hair, before settling down, harp placed between his knees. He fiddled with the strings for a moment, fearing they were a little worse for wear - his budget factored in food and little besides. He tweaked at the tuning pins just briefly, and struck a note. It rang out, true and clear, and his crowd settled, glasses laid firm on the table tops. He felt a flutter of nerves edge into him, but he pushed the feeling aside. He had practiced this. Playing to crowds of people was something he knew.

He began, fingertips hovering lightly against the strings, as he stroked up a song. He had recently come into plenty of spare time to practice - it was a relief not to be constantly forced to train, or study, or fight. It was almost enough that he could forget that night.

He had been keeping an ear out as he’d walked by at night, scouting the sort of songs that were often played. Sussing out the audience was half the job, after all. So with relative confidence he began ‘Shrinking Violet’ to an expected smattering of applause and grins as patrons began to clink their mugs to the tune and chime in on the chorus. His voice was light and had the right candor to carry the piece, but it was his fingers that would work the magic. He tickled them across the strings with a lightness befitting the brush of fingers against a lady’s hand, the gentleness one uses when handling flower petals or beetles wings. ‘Shrinking Violet’ was an upbeat number about a shy tavern girl who was waiting for her knight in shining armour to come, and the music seemed to fill The Boar’s Head with a little bit of life - and laughter at the few extra verses he added. He grinned as he finished with an expert flourish, and a few new faces have already milled in, taking drinks and seats. He goes on to play ‘Sailor Sailor’, and ‘Days of Yore’ before he’s given a brief respite. A mug of ale, some bread and warm potato and leek soup wait for him at the end of the bar, and gratefully he takes a seat, delicately placing his harp beside him. The innkeeper nods and flashes him a smile - he has a few coins that were thrown at his feet during the performance, and they sit heavy in the secret pocket he has tucked against his side. Within his first few days on the street he learnt just how quickly a purse could be cut, and a pocket could be raided. They were just a few slips of coin, but any money at all would have felt heavy to him - and it assured him at least one more meal. He spoons down the soup and feels the warmth of it melt against his tongue and slide to his stomach. He had never felt so poetic over potatoes and leeks in all his life. The philosophers and poets had it all wrong - he would trade a thousand evenings spent in the warm and delightful embrace of a fae woman for a single bowl of potato and leek on a cold night. Maybe two.

The bread is a little stale, but tastes good enough dumped in with the rest, and idly he glances down at his harp. There, crouched in the shadows of the bar, is a little brown rat. It sniffs at his harp just once before teetering away little paws a scuttle for a crumb. He glances back to his bowl of stew, bread sticking out like a little soggy boat in a sea. There was plenty there. No one else had yet spied the tiny squatter, and the little rat twitches its whiskers. Once, twice. There aren’t any crumbs to be found.

The young musician breaks off a chunk of bread, a little soggy with soup, and slowly lowers it, tossing it a little ways past his foot, and towards the little furry beggar. He knew what it was like to be hungry every night. He supposed he felt a little kinship with the rat. Small, scruffy, unassuming - hurried out of every doorway he ever tried to sleep on. He finishes the rest of his meal in a hurry, and picks up his harp as he skips back toward the stage. He notes, with a little satisfaction, the hunk of bread is gone and so if his furry companion. Street rats had to stick together, after all.

---

Weary and a little haggard, Lior runs a hand through his hair, messing it up only further. His finger feel sore and tender from being arched in strumming positions, and his back and shoulders are stiff from a chair with no back. He lost his voice halfway through the last song, but his dwindling and far from sober audience had filled in. The innkeeper had graciously allowed him the spare room for the promise of playing the following evening, and he had assured her she could have him for the rest of the year if it meant a nights rest on a bed. He had almost forgotten what beds looked like. After he dragged himself upstairs and entered the little room, he found he couldn’t be happier - there was a chair for his harp and a bed with sheets, and the whole place took about two steps to cross. It was far from palatial, but it was warm and cozy and for tonight, it was his. He shucked off his shirt and boots with all the glee he could muster, before crawling beneath the covers and snuggling into the pillow. By the time he had drifted off, he didn’t even notice the rain pattering gently against the tiny window by the bed. Or the ominous smudge of the Gandryll castle on the horizon, little more than a hulking shadow that leered high over the few speckled drops of light in the little city.

Kucing- City Outskirts.

There was something magical about rain, it bought life and that alone was magical but further than that simple action and perhaps more mundane than most people cared to contemplate it bought things alive. The city at night in the rain smelled almost clean, almost like a rocky mountain, the garbage and sewage scents buried beneath natures own bouquet. Day rain was different in the city, it seemed to accentuate the rot from within, but it was almost evening and she was not in the city. She could, if she looked, still see it behind her, the shapes of the buildings, the arches and trees she'd grown to recognise. The woods smelled wonderful in night rain, the fresh scent of the leaves, the flowers, even the dirt, it called to her in a way Avalon's perfumes would never mimic, it was the scent of nature, of home and family.

Without another thought the powerful beast leapt from the tree limb it had been resting on and travelled on swift limbs between the tree's roots and scrub, the rain on her fur felt cleansing, though she knew only too well it would not penetrate the top layer of silver white downy fur. Her coat was thick, meant for the cold snows and frozen rains of the tundra, a person who was granted to stroke her could easily half loose their fingers in the thick fur, it felt as soft as silk to the touch, which made it highly sought after in more ways than one. Though right now it clung to the water droplets, holding them like fine clear crystals, even her ears were lined with soft downy fur, allowing no water to enter there and through the huntress off balance. This was how she was supposed to be, claws in the dirt, tail braced behind her and every muscle rippling as she ran wild and free, she didn't care what Avalon said, he was wrong.

He wanted her to believe that gangly, half blind, half deaf, slow, clumsy, bald bi-ped was how she was suppose to be. How could that even be possible? It felt strange, uncomfortable, Avalon took this to be a lack of control, it wasn't, it was lack of desire but she saw no need to correct his assumptions. pointless unpleasantness needed to be avoided with an Alpha, especially if she ever hoped to see home again. Avalon asked relatively little of her, though what he did ask was usually difficult to comply with, don't eat the palace fish, don't kill people, never go out with fur, never go out with naked human skin, don't go hunting. Such was domesticated creatures lives but she was not domestic, she hunted her food, she wasn't given it on dishes, humans were enemies that tried to hurt you, her fur was her comfort and human clothes were awkward and uncomfortable. Though Avalon had been good enough to choose her favourite colour; as if he'd always known it. and make it both simple to wear and loose enough not to offend her. The lower garment simply tied in place at her hip and the upper fixed behind her neck and at her ribs. Even then they were tight and restricting compared with her usual attire.

There was talk of her, at months end when the big feast was planned, being at the Kings side to be shown off and paraded about like meat. Avalon wasn't comfortable with the idea yet, though he was Alpha so she'd do as asked regardless, again though she had not said as much too him, it was unnecessary to her mind. As mind turned to the Alpha it inevitably fell on the others, Empie was the Omega to be sure, Sel was... just a fringe element and Gideon, he wasn't really part of the pack in her eyes. Too unstable, potentially dangerous to the pack, in her tribe such unknown elements soon became lone elements, it was only a matter of time before the alpha killed or banished him. Empie seemed to be there to keep spirits raised, surrounded by severe and serious characters she seemed to get more excitable the more melancholy people became. As for Sel, she wasn't sure what to make of him, he'd be a good beta perhaps but she'd thought little more on him than that. They were her pack now, her family and she didn't need to approve of them, just protect them.

The rain and evening wore on, as it grew truly dark she turned for the silly wood and stone hut they called home, it was nothing like she was used to, flat and straight with strange soft sleeping areas. You couldn't see the stars, feel the wind or the sun, it felt like another cage and for that reason alone she disliked it, she'd had enough of cages for one lifetime and she'd already warned Avalon what she'd do to him should he ever try to put her back in one. It of course had not been a threat, she didn't threaten people after all, it was a pointless waste of ones amenities. He was a respectful alpha and had promised no more cages or crates, he'd told her about the Kings wish to have her at the feast rather than simply order to attend.

As she walked through the now softening dirt beneath her, breathing soft wisps of condensation into the night air the leopardess contemplated the first few days with the new alpha. They'd spent a long time after he found her asking about Kings and Queens, who hired her and where she was from, what her purpose was and what she was being paid. All these were new words to her and he spent more time answering her questions than getting answers to his own. He didn't seem to trust her words at first but after a few days he seemed to at least believe the innocence on her side of the situation. Honestly, who would really want to leave their lovely snowy home to come live in metal bars for a silly little man with a pointy hat who looked ridiculous and wanted her to do tricks for him?

Hopping smoothly from branch to higher branch her claws raking the bark she slipped to the slanted roof of their strange cave, as she shook down her fur keen eyes caught a fleck of silver, knowing the alpha would be angry if she were not inside when he returned she slipped quietly through the strangled entrance and through the dark shadows until she was stationed somewhere near the back, she'd briefly watched as Empie got angry with some wooden shapes but paid it no real mind. With another shake she forced herself into the silly bi-ped form and brushed nails through her black hair, her body damp and spotted with water droplets that clung as they had to her fur, her hair lay slick in tendril patterns across her body. Slinking from the shadows, a leaf in her hair she squinted against the bright light, eyes looking narrowed as she guarded them from the light, she seemed to have no perception of shame so made no attempt to cover her nudity, simply stood and listened, when Avalon had said his piece and his good nights she stretched her human muscles, ready for sleep and the upcoming mission.

Gideon – Near the gate entrance to Gandryll Castle

“Were you harmed?” Gideon detected a hint of annoyance in Oathsworn’s question. Or was that concern in his tone? He could never tell with the man.

“No. Just a casual sparring match, my good friend. The vulture is quite formidable in a scrap.” Gideon uttered, casually flicking off crusted blood from his fingernails. “Nearly claimed my eye with that beak of his. Quite glad he telegraphed his strike, otherwise we’d finally have something in common.” Gideon chuckled as he winked with his left eye as if to mock Oathsworn’s scar.

“I disapprove of my current station.” Oathsworn spat, ignoring Gideon’s petty insult. His gaze was fierce in the moonlight, and for a moment, Gideon thought the man was going to transform. “I will not stand idly by as your exploits continue to rust the tenets of my ancestors. I am your bodyguard, as sworn by the blood pact we have made by the divine rite of the Iron Lions, and the many stars of the shalarag’rakan-“

“Oh, dearest brother…” Gideon said with forced endearment. He was in no mood to hear another lecture about the old ways of a tribe nearing its extinction. He pushed off of the cool stones that walled Gandryll’s castle from the city, placing his hands on Oathsworn’s shoulders. “We’ve been over this many times. This is but a temporary circumstance, one that will open many doors for us!”

“You help no one by keeping me out of sword’s reach.” The white-haired cavanar said, flatly.

“I’m fine here, Oath,” Gideon’s patience was wearing thin. “The lot I’m rooming with are priestesses compared to the company we’ve frequented in the past.”

“That is what concerns me most. Five moons have passed and you have not tempered your demon. You put those fools at risk by not doing so.”

Gideon could no longer maintain a compassionate façade. He dug his fingers into the man’s cloak, reeling him in closer. “Your concerns are duly noted, cub. However, you will polish the rusty tenets of that dying tribe of yours by obeying the liberator you’ve sworn to protect!” Gideon wiped the flecks of blood residue from his hands onto Oathsworn’s armor. “Now, tell me that you’ve brought what I’ve asked of you...”

Gideon – Cavanar Cavern

Gideon entered the living quarters with a leather bag tucked under his arm. “Oh my fellow cavanars, do I have a treat for you!” The most responsive of the bunch was Empie, whom immediately took notice to the bag he was holding. “How is my beautiful swashbuckling pirate this evening?” Gideon smiled, making an animated nod of approval at her new attire. She was the most social out of the three, as Kucing usually went off on her own, while Sel was a man that preferred action over words – at least when it came to interacting with Gideon.

“I hope you’re all hungry!” He said aloud, motioning over to the hearth.

***

By the time Avalon arrived, the dinner table was full of delicious treats. Things like lemon-flavored crème cakes and jelly-filled French rolls came premade, but the platter of fresh honey salmon, Cheyenne sprinkled chili soup and assorted meats, were all prepared by Gideon.

“Good evening, Avalon.” Gideon nodded, gesturing at the table. “I’ve prepared some food if you’re hungry.”

The altercation from earlier still felt fresh, and truth be told, Gideon couldn’t help but feel apologetic for lashing out at the man. It was a frustrating thing to experience, to know you have something inside of you, something more powerful than the average man, yet have but a slither of control over it. The last thing he wanted to do was distance himself from the man who could change all of that.

***

Gideon’s ears perked up several times throughout Avalon’s briefing. Quite odd for a Lady to hire assassins like the Wolfsbane to retrieve her son.

“I’ve heard of them. Tavern rumors paint tales of a dangerous assassin duo. For a beast to dispatch one so swiftly makes for an interesting quest!” Gideon said from his seat on the table, sloshing a dark wine in his stone cup. “Do you think the survivor will continue on with her trade? I imagine a Wolfsbane’s rates are more affordable now, what with her partner in crime no longer part of the package deal.”

Empie- Canavar Cavern.

To Gideon's cry he got an excited squeak of his own, new, nickname, "Gidey!"When he appraised her outfit the woman grinned widely further making her seem more like a pixie than a demon, she did a twirl for her fellow demon, then struck the only pose she knew by hopping up onto a chair, putting slippered foot to the edge of the table, pulling a scowling face -which still seemed to radiate mirth- and a hand above her eyes as if to scan the horizon for ships. Devolving then into giggle as she hopped down and rather openly eyed the bag he had with him, would it be jewels? Unlikely, he never bought jewels home, though it would be nice wouldn't it? Of course it turned out to be food and the street urchin was okay with that, food was good, not that he'd let her see what he was cooking, that was why she'd played her tile game.

After Avalon had given them their mission she had all but forgotten about the yummy morsel's Gideon had put out, spinning giddily back to her bunk she came to an abrupt stop as a gentle draft delivered to her fine nose the smell of cakes. The little sugar demon whipped around like a spinning top, red gaze fixating on the table and with a skip and a jump she had crossed the distance and claimed a chair right in front of the cakes. A quick glance left, then right and the sneak thief dragged the plate of lemon cakes closer to her inch by careful inch. In case she was caught her other hand snatched one up with the speed she'd learned in the pick pocketing trade and crammed the entire cake into her mouth without ceremony. It made it very hard to chew and at one point she had to lift her hand to cover her mouth, she could hear Avalon now 'Empie manners! You're not on the street anymore!' his head vein would do that weird little dance it did when he was stressed and she'd have to flutter her lashes, pout her cute pout and eventually get her own way or sighed and dismissed depending on the kind of day Avalon had had.

"These are so delicious!" She squeaked at Gideon, a little cream at the corner of her mouth and some lemon sauce on the tip of her nose, it was amazing the kinds of food they had here, then again it wasn't rotten, mouldy or garbage food so of course it was delicious! It had only been a week or so since she'd been scraped from the streets and every morning she felt thrilled to wake up in a real bed, who cared if they were lumpy or uncomfortable. She had three meals a day, THREE! All of this and she hadn't had to steal any of it, well maybe Avalon's heart but aside that nothing. Snickering to herself at her private joke she snatched up another two of the lemon cakes making sure to get her 'fair' share of the sweets before the other two joined them, she wasn't sure about Sel but Kucing was clearly quite fond of yellow things and Gideon had made everything so he'd want some no doubt.

She gave a cursory sniff to the soup, pulled a face and wriggled her nose as if about to sneeze, she didn't mind, simply shifted her lemon cakes to one hand and stole a jelly roll biting excitedly into it. It was no doubt her sweet tooth that allowed her to be so happy and so hyper so often, she wasn't overly fond of savoury things at the best of times but when put in front of cakes or fish she knew what she'd rather eat. Once done chewing her jelly roll she glanced up to Gideon and fluttered those long white lashes of hers, looking up at him from under them -which surely would have worked better if her eyes were still human looking- and poured on that sickly sweet pout. Even the cakes seemed less sugary than the cuteness she was pouring into the act, shoulders bought forward, chest 'accidentally' framed y the elbows as she swayed just slightly, "Gidey-kins...Gideeeeeeyyyyyy....did you bring me a present?" Excited little face lit up with hope and expectation, he didn't usually get her presents but it didn't hurt to ask, "Oh...and where's your grumpy shadow?" She pulled the most humoutous but accurate impression of the Oathsworn as she possibly could.

Avalon ~ Castle Gandryll with the Canavar

It had been a surprisingly simple task to awaken the Canavar at dawn the next morning. In fact, when Avalon arrived, they appeared to have been awake for hours - for the better or for the worse, Avalon would soon discover. He currently led them through the long, narrow passageway that connected their annex to the underground portion of the castle. When they finally reached the area, torches on the wall were lit to reveal a spacious armory. Leolin had not managed to wrest control of the military from Avalon, at least what was left of it, at the equipment was relatively modern and well-kept.

Avalon drifted to the back and pulled out a chest, covered in ornate carvings that dust and age had dulled. Inside was what looked like folded black clothing.

"Today is the last day of the Month of Rain and there is a festival in City Center. While that kind of chaos will make excellent cover, we will attract too much attention as we are. You will need to wear these disguises," Avalon pulled out one of the clothing bundles to reveal a well armored black and gold uniform, complete with a long draping cloak whose hood could be pulled over the head. To finish it off was a scowling mask of thick golden-bronze that obscured the wearers face and identified them as Atropos of the Abbey of the Nightshade. "These are authentic uniforms and should prove to hold up against clergy themselves, as long as you don't get too close to the real thing or open your mouth. Nightshade is hosting this festival and their presence will be very noticeable so we will not be out of place. These uniforms are not going to be easy to transform in, account for that if we should have to battle."

Avalon knew that the four were trained in various weaponry and transforming was too risky today. He encouraged them to bring personal weapons or choose one from the armory.

"As long as you can conceal your weapon within your cloak, you will be fine. Just be mindful of when you decide to pull it out and know that your cover will be blown as soon as you do," Avalon tied the sash of the Atropo uniform, fastening a longsword in a hilt across his back before concealing it underneath the long cloak.

When everyone had finished preparing and put on their mask, they made for a very formidable group. Nightshade induced respect and fear throughout Gandryll and nobody would question them as long as they played the part well.

"Now we can walk right out the door," Avalon said, noting how unique of an opportunity moving openly in a crowd was for this group. "Look confident and stop bouncing Empie," Avalon sighed, as the overly stern and aggressive manner of the Atropos was diminished wholly when they looked as if they were skipping.

City Center

City Center was packed and though the sun had just risen, shopkeepers and performers had overtaken the street already, preparing their wares or rehearsing their performances. The Nobility of Gandryll were arriving in sleek carriages and the common people were filtering in, reveling in the chaotic mix of music, the cries of street vendors and the performances of fire eaters and acrobats. Wherever they went, people often gave the a wide berth, never meeting their eyes and sometimes scattering before them.

"Here," Avalon said, as he indicated for them to duck into a small shop. It was difficult for them all to move comfortably in the small dining area of what looked like a tea house.

A small, spindly looking girl, no more than 10 years of age, turned towards their direction. Her eyes were heavily clouded over, indicating a blindness that had been with her since birth. She appeared to look through them and her posture remained bold. Though her stringy black hair fell over her face, it was easy to tell that she had no fear of them.

A woman ran out from the back of the shop, glaring at them and waving a wooden spoon.

"I gave you everything I had last time you came in! We don't keep Ghost Candles and we surrendered our last unicorn horns to you when you raided the day before last. Why do you harass honest shop owners, especially on a day such as today!" The woman's wrinkled face looked both panicked and indignant and her greying hair fell from her bun as she brandished her spoon.

"Betrys, it's Avalon," the girl spoke clearly, her high voice breaking through the tension and causing them all to turn. "He's come to visit. Though I didn't expect you to be ready today birdie, fluttering about with the wild ones." She giggled and when her mouth opened, a forked tongue flickered from between sharpened teeth.

She led them to the back of the establishment, dragging the broom that matched her height - and stature - behind her.

"Funny cape! I almost didn't recognize you Birdie, that swooshing sound isn't like you." She laughed and her dark eyes flickered. She reached up to touch Avalon's face and she nodded knowingly as she detected the mask."But your friends...they wear their fierceness on their sleeve, animals pacing in a cage! Back and forth!" She directed her blank gaze to the other four, her forked tongue flickering from between her lips again, tasting the air.

"Rhonwen, we are looking for Lady Taliesan's son. What do you know?" Avalon asked her point blank.

"I been slithering around at night! Listening in all the nooks and crannies like you asked me. Found myself at the Inn, yes, by the forest. Pretty new boy but green like a sprout. Sings like a birdie but he's a gallop-y one. Knew it right away - Rhonwen knows what she hears." She nodded and laughed. Then she paused, staring widely at an indeterminate spot behind them. "Wait, someone outside? They shouldn't be here!" She froze and hunkered down, as if listening to the ground.

"Fly away!" She screamed suddenly, "Fly away, now!" The girl crumpled to the ground, looking like a discarded pile of clothes. Then, from one sleeve of her now limp dress slithered a small black adder who darted into a hole in the stone and disappeared.

From the front of the store a noise like a huge explosion wracked the building and Avalon gestured at the four to make for the back exit. The shopkeeper let out a piercing scream that sounded as if it were cut short - strangled out of existence.

"Someone has been tracking our movements! They mean to delay us. Follow me, we must make it to that inn before they do, that is our priority."

They evacuated the now demolished tea shop and saw that the once busy street had emptied completely, the people having taken cover within other buildings. Before turning towards the forest, anticipating the journey to the inn, Avalon caught sight of three shadows racing across the rooftops with the same goal in mind.

"Le's go, we must either stop them or beat them there. Follow me."

However, Avalon's heart dropped as he saw a group of eight legitimate Atropos storming towards the teahouse. Two held massive and vicious looking dogs on tight leashes who sniffed the air. One of the dogs appeared to have a lead. It turned it's ugly head towards them before baring its teeth and barking, straining at them and drawing the attention of the other clergy.

Sel - Above Gandryll Castle

Sel soared through the air with the wings of a vulture. He had only just started to learn how to control his transformations and he thought this to be good practice, even if he was supposed to be wasting his time with the other canavar. Besides, it's not like any of the others were bothering to stay, either. Kucing and Gideon had both fled the cavern almost immediately after being given the chance. And who could blame them? He felt like a caged pet, as if the King assumed that because they could transfigure themselves into beasts meant that they were beasts. It was not so, and Avalon seemed to understand that.

For all his shunning and silence towards the rest of the group, Sel felt the need to pester Avalon with questions about, well, everything. "How long have canavars been around? Does the type of animal you can turn into mean anything? Why am I a vulture? I don't even like vultures," and so on. He had sensed irritation from Avalon before, but he wasn't sure if he was the cause or if it was something with the king or the other canavars, but the questions were as necessary to Sel as training was. He had no intention of becoming the King's pet canavar. He just wanted to learn what he was and how he could control it, and then figure out a way to use it to get himself a better life. Making friends with the others wasn't important to him. He had no ill will towards them, and nothing against Empie or Kucing, it just didn't seem necessary to work as a team to him. If he saw the need he would certainly work with the others but so long as he could he preferred to stay on his own.

Canavar Cavern

Sel attempted to draw as little attention to himself as possible when retrieving his clothes and re-entering the cavern, as he felt like he was wasting his time with the other canavar, especially Gideon. He slouched in a rickety wooden chair pressed against the cavern wall opposite the one named Empie, who was struggling with some wooden puzzle until she lost control over her temper. What was the point of playing a game if you got mad when you lost? Sel tried to avoid anger, if he could. That altercation with Gideon earlier was, of course, unavoidable. At least in Sel's mind. He could actually hardly remember what the argument was about to begin with, just that Gideon had acted like a brute and ended up harming Avalon in the process. That was stupid. Avalon was the one they depended on to help them train their abilities, striking at him would bring you no good. At this point Sel glanced down and noticed the purple bruises already showing on his arms and legs, and felt a little more humble. Gideon had fighting talent, that was undeniable, but skill gets you nothing except trouble if you can't control yourself.

Sel wished he had the sort of talent the others had. Kucing had almost seamless control over her transformations, but she was feral and immature. Gideon was strong but uncontrollable, and Sel hadn't quite figured Empie out yet. She seemed rather annoying at times but he put up with her, mostly because he was more sympathetic towards Empie than he was towards the others since she had been on the streets as well. But she was obviously much more successful than himself at surviving, and the bag of jewels sticking out from underneath her pillow was testament to that. He absent-mindedly wondered if he would be willing to steal them from her if he thought he could get away from it. Sel never liked to consider himself the kind of person who would steal, kill, or even harm others for profit but he knew deep down that he would be willing to do anything to avoid being as hungry as he was on the streets again. Empie and Gideon, on the other hand, seemed to even enjoy their memories of previous criminal exploits, and that worried him. If he ever gained full control over his abilities he would immediately flee from Avalon and the King so that he could make his own way, and this would probably lead to crime. He didn't really care to much about the law or government itself- his dislike of the King was proof enough of that- just the moral implications of someone enjoying stealing and a fear that he would just as easily become like that if he was capable of it.

Soon after Gideon came back in and prepared what was virtually a feast. Sel tried to seem disinterested (couldn't let every one else think he might be approachable), but ever since that time he almost starved he had been a bit over excited at the site of large quantities of food, and Gideon was certainly a skilled chef. He tried to avoid the meats, though, because his time eating rotting animals as a vulture had given him a mild aversion towards eating anything that was once alive. And anything sugary just caused him a crash later on, so he stuck to almost all greens and fruit, like the home-grown food he used to eat when he lived on a farm, but thinking of home proved to be a mistake when it led him to remembering his parent's strict adherence to Nightshade. His family would certainly have disowned him for being a canavar and he couldn't imagine getting much sympathy from his few neighbors, either. His thoughts towards his family grew bitter and he silently excused himself from the table so as to head out on his own.

He knew he was being over dramatic, of course, but the knowledge of it hardly stopped him. He picked up the ghost candle lantern and begin to head out the door for a stroll, but was stopped when the door opened to reveal Avalon. He could tell Avalon was in an urgent mood so chose to keep quite and simply lead him back towards the rest of the group. Upon Avalon's entering Sel noticed Empie glance nervously over towards her bag of jewels and Sel felt a pang of sympathy for her.

Sel was rather disinterested in the mission, it only meant they would find more canavar which meant more people in that stuffy cave and probably less opportunities to train on his own. But he went along with it well enough up until Avalon mentioned that they would be going disguised as Atropos. Despite knowing that most followers of Nightshade would gladly despise him for being what he was, he still felt a deep connection the religion and considered himself an almost legitimate follower of it. For a moment he opened his mouth to protest but knew from Avalon's stern appearance that it would probably do him no good. Sel was beginning to like him less and less. First it was being holed up in this cave with three others, then it was being told that it was now his job to help recruit more to join this dysfunctional team, but now they had to commit heresy by pretending to be Atropos. He almost wished he hadn't agreed to join Avalon at all, not that he had much choice in the matter. Anything was better than being on the streets.

Sel wasn't familiar with many weapons, but he used to chop trees for wood back at the farm. He assumed chopping a person and chopping a tree was virtually the same in principle, so Sel begin looking over the simple iron weapon racks for anything he thought he could use. The swords all looked like they required to much skill, the daggers were just to small to be effective, and bows and arrows wouldn't fit under the robes. In the end he choose a simple but sharp one-handed axe. It's handle was smooth, polished wood that allowed both a grip and the ability to slide your hand up and down the handle for control or force (holding the handle close to the head allows more control and holding it further down the weapon allows more force) without fear of splintering, and the head of the axe was made from strong steel with no decorations or extravagances adding extra weight.

City Center

He was nervous in the middle of the city and kept pressing his arm against his cloak to make sure the weapon was still tied loosely tied to the inside of the cloak. He wasn't sure where he was expecting it to go, but something about being surrounded by Nightshade followers and knowing he was daring to impersonate an Atropos made him on edge. He nervously glanced around at real Atropos, certain that if he didn't they would somehow realize he was an imposter but afraid all the same that looking at them to much would make him even more obvious. A few of the festival attendees bowed to him in the traditional fashion- arms crossed over ones waste while lowering your head slightly- which only made him more certain that he would give himself away.

When the snake girl yelled "Fly away! Flay away, now!" Sel almost took her advice and already could feel a few feathers popping out of his skin. He probably would have fled if it hadn't been for the gigantic suit weighing him down. Then chaos broke loose and eight Atropos stared storming towards the tea house. Sel glanced around in panic and looked to Avalon for leadership, but realized he seemed just as frightened. "Perhaps we can have one of us cause a diversion," Sel quietly suggested, "that way the rest can find an easier way in than open conflict."

Kucing- Gandryll Centre

He begged and pleaded but the bird man was not getting her in that armour, she had contemplated it before he mentioned her transformations would be limited at that point she'd bared claws and fangs in abject defiance until the old man sighed and told her to just keep out of sight. She had agreed to the skirt and top, it had not hindered her movements or her transformation but to wear such poisonous colours and be restricted in her movements no man, Alpha or otherwise, had the power to make her do that. She had no skill with their stupid weapons, her weapons were her nails, her teeth, her entire body was a weapon that had been trained to hunt and kill prey many times her own size. She'd never needed tools to help her and even now when offered she gave them all a disapproving look before walking out of their armoury as bare as she had walked into it, with hands interlocking the feral girl stretched until she heard an adequate pop and shook her messy hair to free it of the burdens of sleep. Wear clothes, use sticks, what did Avalon take her for? A crow? A warbler perhaps? She was no bird, nor chimp, she was a cat, what she couldn't kill herself was a better hunter and should be avoided at all costs.

Before they left she narrowed her eyes to the day, flashing that bright blue that should only have ever belonged to the dawn and not in a creatures head, leaping into the shadows sleek white fur was strangely almost invisible and her footfalls silent even against the looser stones. With ease she scrambled to roof top height, keeping low and following her silly looking friends through the town, graceful leap after leap until they seemed to stop at one particular building. She didn't leave her post, for all she didn't know she knew well enough that humans were quite opposed to large cats in their homes and saw no need to further put at risk their mission, instead she hunkered down in the blackest of shadows and waited, she heard screeching which bought forth a low snarl to her lips but soon there was silence and she waited quietly again.

Her ears flickered and her head rose, there was something in the air and while people might take time to figure out whether it was scent or noise, feelings or intuition she cared not for such philosophy. Her body knew something was wrong and without thought she sprang from the roof like a silver bolt of lightening, down to the shop beside and hidden behind crates and barrels where she kept her chest low to the ground, her tail against her back legs and her claws out and readied. What she was waiting for didn't take long, a large bang that caused her ears to ring coupled with a bright blast that left her eyes momentarily stunned seemed to rock the area she was in. For a moment she was forced to back up, a low growl at the back of her throat which, thankfully, didn't seem to be heard over the sound of the chaos following the blast. Whatever happened had people scattering, running, making her wonder what people meats tasted like, if only for a moment.

Powerful legs took her back to the roof where she spotted three people exit the back of the building, a quick scent identified them as her pack as a further set of strangely dressed people threatened the front of the store. She had no care for those inside and upon hearing Avalon speak the words 'stop them' the leopard let loose a snarl and began racing across the roof tops like a fish through water. She was a blur of silver and blue jumping from roof top to roof top with ease, one of the silly plated men missed a step, an easy mistake but a deadly one, a full six hundred pounds of leopard landed on his back, sending the man down quieter than most would expect, the air knocked from him. A powerful paw scooped off the helmet in a single strike and soon silver maw was drenched in ruby red, the idiot mans neck broken and punctured by powerful fangs.

Usually her people wasted no meat but there were two others to catch and so she ignored the desire that blood bought to the forefront of her mind and began the chase a new, she didn't know why she'd killed that man, she didn't care why she would kill the other two either, her Alpha had commanded it and it would be done, she'd find out the reasoning later if he deemed it necessary to divulge to her at all. This was a good start to the day, hunting, properly hunting for the first time since she'd been taken from her snowy home and all that resentment and anger, all that fear came bubbling to the surface, urging her on. This time though she knew their tricks so this time she wouldn't be so easily caught.

Empie Tea house.

It had hard to compose herself into a stern and grumpy youth, this was such a cool secret mission! She didn't like the idea of not being able to transform and had been about to turn doe eyes on Avalon again when Gid had mentioned a strawberry cake waiting forh er when they got back and then she was in! The armour practically hung off her though, made for someone with a bit more stature and frame than the diminutive little pixie/ However with puffed up chest and cloak swished over the obvious gaps she strolled out as sternly and grumpy as she possibly could. She managed to keep the charade up all through town and into the tea house too, feeling quite proud of herself and thinking of putting 'master of disguise' on her resume, if she ever decided to write one that was.

Then the woman came out and Empie seemed to visibly deflate, reaching subtly for Avalon's cloak as the woman shouted and waved her spoon, Empie wasn't scared, not really. On the streets she'd had meat cleavers swung at her face and people much bigger than this woman chasing her, no she felt bad for the woman. Empie had known Nightshade was no good, it was half the reason her parents had kicked her out and half the reason for a lot of the scars she had and kept hidden. She didn't realise they robbed people though, "Avi-" She began in a timid whisper before a strange snake girl spoke up and spooked her enough to half jump back. She was creepy as hell but kind of cool too, idly she wondered what she'd be like with a snake tongue, "Gidey." She whispered, "Would i be even prettier if I had a snake tongue like hers? Less crazy though...I like not being crazy."

As the snake spoke up again Empie tried to pay attention but the girl made little sense to her and her mind was far too active to really try and decipher it right now. There was something about a horse boy? Immediately she thought how posh she'd look with her very own horse, things were looking up Empie! Then there as the blast that knocked her off her feet and half out of her armour. The helmet rolled to the floor with the gauntlets and boots, she wiggled out of the body armour like an eel from a net and looked in the direction of the blast and the scream. Empie's eyes widened and she backed away a few steps, the scream stopped and her eyes teared at the corners, she didn't really even hear Sel speak of a distraction before she was running towards the front. "I've got to check on the shop owner. I love the cakes here!" She used to steal from this tea shop quite often, they had the nicest cinnamon buns in the whole town and sometimes, not often but sometimes the woman would 'carelessly' leave a pot of hot chocolate out with the stale buns.

She hopped over rubble, unclipping the cloak and shoulder barged open the door, what she saw horrified her and for a moment it looked like she was going to hyperventilate. her chest rose and fell more rapidly, tears stung her eyes and the back of her throat felt heavy and clogged. This wasn't how Team Avalon was supposed to operate, they were supposed to stop bad guys and good people weren't supposed to get hurt. Not unless it was their pockets getting a little lighter or their fingers a little more bare. One hand rose to Empie's face and she picked her way through the rubble of the shop front until she saw the most painful sight of all. All the cakes had been destroyed, burned or turned to crumbs, there was blood too and she couldn't get the image out of her mind. "I hate you." She uttered quietly, a dog replied with manic barking, no doubt belong to the people who blew this place up, who killed the shopkeeper and burned all the cakes. "I hate you!" She screamed but it didn't come out as words, it came out as a blinding white noise that caused the dogs to snarl, whine then pass out as it rose in pitch, glass began to shake and tremble, threatening to crack and she hoped the tin can headed people were feeling the burn.

Before they had a chance to find her she jumped through a broken window and let loose one of the steel throwing blades she'd taken when offered weaponry. She didn't know how to use most of it that was for sure but she'd taken a half dozen throwing knives, two boot knives and one dagger, she had said they were the prettiest but she wasn't sure she could carry anything heavier. She wasn't sure if the dagger hit and she didn't particularly care, Sel's words that had been only half heard hit her ears, she'd be the distraction. There wasn't anyone who knew these streets better than her, not even Avalon, she knew every nook and cranny, she could lead these tin heads on a merry old chase and unless she was very unlucky she'd lose them and meet them up at the inn all in good time. "Jeez, you guys are ugly....I mean I thought I had problems with my eyes but look at you." She goaded before sprinting away down the street, she didn't have the hurt to hurt or kill people, not properly anyway but she'd put them in a good position where they could potentially get hurt or killed if she got the chance, she wasn't that nice of a person. Maybe she'd run into Oath, she was sure mister grumpy would love to crush some skulls, especially if she told him they'd hurt Gideon.

((ugh double post sorry guys))

Hayden Peak
The Territory of Byrn

There's something inconceivably cryptic of the arctic embrace. To the unacclimated it proved to be a force of egregious debilitation; it assaulted the senses and vitiated the spirit. It was treacherous and thorough; nothing assayed the conviction of a man with similar surety like time spent in the tundras of Byrn. Though for those with an enduring quality, a tranquility, lost to most, could be found on the snow-capped palisades and powdered dunes. A stillness undetectable to civilized consideration lie just beyond the bitter winds that howled with deafening audibility. Aelana smiled, because to her nothing could be heard but a symphony of life and complacency.

Indeed, she was a woman of station; something of a known figure among the ranks of the many militias who assumed the Whitewood banner as either their own or the protectorate it afforded them. At birth she was the indigenity of the wild and despite an entire lifetime of cultivation, there was a discernible beckoning felt from the spirit of the land. She always felt removed from the societal strata of Whitewood and the political intrigue that governed its very inner workings; unable to become as intimately involved as Ghandall. Tthen again, juxtaposed to his distinguishments and indomitable fervor, she was vapidly saturnine. Not to be dreaded however, there was a place for everyone and a demand for those as ancillary as her.

The winds were uncharacteristically reposeful on this morning; a young sun rose lazily in the horizon illuminating the land below with an arrangement of soft oranges and reds. It was still, almost picturesque. Came to the eye as intentionally gentle as if designed by some Afonian artisan. Aelana sharply inhaled as she hoisted herself up and away from the fire she was tending. "Commendable," she offered flatly, freeing her gear from the storm that had usurped her camp from the night before. "I was aware that men from your land were particularly lively and sturdy but even I must admit myself surprised by your standing." She collected some snow into a handful and threw it at him mindlessly. "I thought surely she would seize you, if you hadn't bled out by now. Though honestly, that might've been a more favorable fate for you."

Some distance away, bound at the extremities and neck by rope to the hearty trunks of three oaks, remained the assassin who had unsuccessfully attempted to impede Aelana's excursion. While effective in slowing her down the current predicament he haplessly initiated was met with dire regret and proved to be little more than an annoyance for the Templar. By some stroke of luck the elements had preserved his life; the lacerations to his chest and the twisted flesh of his neck separated by the serrated edge of an arrow had ceased issuing blood. His rugged brown eyes had abandoned the tone of naked confusion they fostered in the early night and now had frozen over into a cold, deceitfully blank gaze that, to some extent, betrayed the death that lingered just behind them. He was slowly losing his lease on life but a certain residual defiance could be observed.

Distressed and enervated, he followed Aelana spitefully wish his vision. "You've no idea, do you? Oh, you unfortunate girl; your naivety will surely bring you peril."

Aelana turned and walked purposefully closer to the man regarding him inquisitively. He had held his silence for nearly two days, warding off every single attempt at conversation with a dismissive nod of his head. The seared blades she applied to his chest and hours of concussive coercion were surprisingly ineffective. Shamefully so. "A cryptic tongue is as good as no tongue at all," she snapped. "Choose your words wisely assassin."

A harsh and ineffectual laugh broke the silence. "I'm on the verge of death woman, do you think I fear what fate awaits me on the other side. This instance, while uncomfortable, offers nothing more than the reassurance in knowing our cause is just. You humans have grown demented with power; your attrition on our kind is an assault on the very Rift itself."

"Incredible," she turned around and resumed collecting her belongings. Even she found herself at odds with the current ambitions of the Nightshade; a fervidity that lacked any justification and supported reasoning as misguided and unsubstantiated as the religion they clung to. The Templars were regarded with similar scrutiny but had gained faint favor for distinguishing themselves as a safeguard for humanity against the atrocities magical creatures committed and not some unjust prosecutors. However, not all shared that observation and many dismissed any notion that painted them as any less treacherous than the Nightshade.

"You must be hopelessly witless if you thought yourself merited enough to attempt the life of a Templar for nothing more than a sentiment of misplaced retribution. You're affront has rewarded you with nothing but misfortune and self-wrought peril," she remarked callously. "Ask yourself with your remaining breath if it was really worth it."

"I suppose not," his head slumped down to the ground and issued a defeated sigh.

Aelana wasn't nearly as barbarous as her appeal designated. Sure, she might not have operated on the nearly noble pretension of being a sentinel for humans that most other Templars assumed; but she wasn't entirely without benign inclinations. She possessed a constructed apathy that owed itself to years of necessary adaptation; reactions to a life of disadvantage and expectation and bereft of the graces of mercy most were privy to. There wasn't much room for compassion as a Templar, even more so, for any individual who found themselves in the precarious position of being Ghandall's most invested prize-dog.

"I'll leave you to your fate, whatever that might be. Hopefully the winds will take you before the carrion rob you of your flesh," she said coldly speaking of the birds-of-prey encircling the ill-fated man from above.

The land in it's complacency was suddenly perturbed by Aelana's shrill whistle. It was oddly melodious and carried itself on the currents of wind for a number of leagues. Her stallion was a sprightly creature; incapable of remaining by the camp and stricken with such a profound sense of wanderlust than even she knew how to manage. When in Whitewood, he would vanish for days on end yet sure enough when she beckoned him he would come. Faithful. Far off in the distance, the tree line broke and from it a black mare galloped forth; it's sinewy body rippling as it cut through the snow in ragged procession. It's movements weren't exactly laborious but certainly not as sure-footed as a creature acclimated to the frothy dunes of this terrain. Aelana suddenly released her grip on her belongings and grabbed the hilt of her long sword with murderous intent. Her horse didn't move like that; he was young and his gait resoundingly sure. His legs would have pressed through the snow, unhindered, in fluid strides. As if to reaffirm her acknowledgement; at random points in the distant woods the trees seemed to separate themselves and sanction a number of other horses to pass through. The leading horse wasn't just galloping towards her, he was mounting an assault.

"Tell me," came the voice of the man, surprisingly hearty and reassured, "how privy are you really to the matter of fate." Aelana spun around and stared in utter disbelief. The man, now liberated of his bonds, stood with purpose and a particularly dreadful confidence. Leering at her from behind him was some beastly creature; it's horned crest bobbed with each one of its jagged breaths. It stepped out from behind him and snarled with contempt; there was an unmistakable human quality to its regard for her, perhaps a little too intelligent to be a product of a natural disposition. 'I'd wager not too privy," the man retorted with malicious content.

Ritka: Alley adjacent to Boar's Head Tavern

After almost a week in Gandryll's capital, Ritka was beginning to regret the slapdash nature of the plan that had brought her here. It had been too long since she'd been in a city, surrounded by the constant press and bustle of people, and so she'd entered the gate as a rat in the back of a farmer's wagon instead of as a woman. This, however, had meant that she'd been able to bring no clothing with her, and as she could hardly go before the King's advisor nude, her movements were limited. It didn't help that she'd been unable to glean any information about Avalon's activities. The rumors told her that he was important - but that was all. There was nothing around which she could plan, and she would not risk her own skin entering the palace without that.

She'd found an alleyway near the Forest, not too far into the city to be heavily trafficked or inhabited by itinerant humans, and dug herself a little burrow under the back step of an inn there, disguising it as best she could by dragging some nearby litter over the opening. The number of humans who disliked untidiness was smaller than the number who disliked rats, so she deemed it a worthwhile endeavor. Just to be sure, though, on her third day in the city Ritka dug a second tunnel out. She slept uneasy nights in the burrow, her tiny body curled tightly around itself to conserve warmth. Some of her dreams were of sleeping in a burrow of other rats - and some were human dreams, of family and then of fear, the former never without the latter.

The tavern, while clean-swept, wasn't the neatest of establishments, and as they often dumped their food waste in the alley Ritka didn't have to go far to scavenge. The taste of spoiled food had bothered her once, but no longer; though the way it lingered in her mouth no matter how many times she licked her teeth did keep her mind always on the goal: find Avalon, sell him her services, live a better and more comfortable life.

It was the thought of that that drove her into the inn one night - well, the thought, and the sound of someone singing 'Sailor, Sailor', a song she hadn't heard since leaving Afon. Ritka didn't get homesick often, or really at all, as she didn't have a home to long for - but that melody, and the happy off-key voices of the tavern patrons joining in, was one of the friendliest things she'd heard in a long time. So when one of the serving girls opened the door and stepped out for a breath of fresh air, Ritka scurried in between her feet. She hugged the wall as tightly as she could, glancing up at the towering humans moving around her, staying in shadows wherever available. A few glimpses of the innkeeper in the past had given her an impression of a no-nonsense woman, and she'd been chased out with a broom more than her fair share of times in her life.

She settled into the far corner of the bar, where it joined the wall and was most poorly lit, crouching down to watch and listen. From her hiding place she couldn't see the source of the music, but she could hear a clear voice and the notes of a harp among those singing along. The musician, whoever they were, was clearly skilled. To her sensitive ears, it was almost note-perfect. Ritka sat, perfectly still but for the twitching of her nose until the song finished. Then, as the tavern's patrons began to move and the musician played the opening notes of a new tune, she left her hiding place to run from table to table seeking scraps. The floor was reasonably clear of dirt, indicating that it had been swept recently, but with the room as full as it was that had probably been before the supper rush. True to her expectations, she found some small fragments of food littering the floor underneath most of the tables she could reach. With quick, nervous movements Ritka devoured fallen crumbs of bread, chunks of potato, and even a few dropped fragments of meat. All of it was fresher than anything she'd eaten in the last week, and richer than all the grains she had ever scavenged in the wild. A vision of herself, human, filling her stomach at a table groaning under the weight of the food it carried rose in her mind - she pushed it down, focusing on the situation at hand. Easier to feed the tiny body of a rat, and she still had no guarantee she would be able to find Avalon at all, let alone that he would accept her offer. Now was not the time to dream.

Having surveyed most of the tavern's floor, Ritka returned to her corner of the bar - to find the musician from earlier seated there, the harp on the floor leaning against the bar wall. She waited, studying the human as she'd learned to in her years as a spy. He was skinny, the shirt he wore draping in a way that suggested it had been sewn for a larger frame - maybe his; but then, maybe it'd been stolen. Shaggy white hair - that was unusual. She crept forward, sniffing curiously at the harp itself. Ritka had had little contact with musical instruments, but she'd seen fine wood before, and for all it was slightly worn that harp had the look. Interesting. The harpist shifted his weight slightly and Ritka startled, continuing in her path along the bar - wouldn't want to be seen as a threat to his instrument. Her nose twitched at the smell of dinner from above, and she scanned the floor under the bar for more food as hunger surged in her belly again. No luck.

There was a quiet sound behind her and she turned to see a chunk of bread, its edges wet with soup, and a hand retreating back above the bar counter. Ritka approached cautiously, but the smell overcame her and she dashed forward, sinking her teeth into the bread and turning around to bound for the back door with her prize. It was almost too large for her to carry, and she stumbled once, but made it safely back to her burrow. In the relative safety of her sleeping chamber she crouched over the bread, nibbling at its edges and savoring the uncommon richness of its taste. She fell asleep with a few tiny crumbs still in her whiskers, and her stomach fuller than it had been for a long while.

---

Ordinarily Ritka slept long hours, but the next day she was woken slightly after sunrise by loud voices and the rumbling of a cart being dragged through her alley. She crept out after it had passed, unable to settle the nerves that had been set jangling by the sudden noise. There was a lump of something in the middle of the alley, and after a quick glance in either direction she scurried out to examine it up close. It proved to be a shoe, though not of the ordinary workaday type most people she'd seen wore: this shoe had embroidery at the toe and around the top, and the leather's smell told her it had been recently oiled. The best wares, brought out for a special occasion, most likely. Something was going on in the city. And a large event meant opportunity. If she could collect dropped food and store it away, she'd have more time to search out information about Avalon. If there was dropped coin... ordinarily Ritka would have stolen clothes long before, but in the close quarters of the city she couldn't risk it. Coin that might be left in place of garments, though, gave her options. Whatever was going on, she decided, she needed to be there.

Gideon - Cavanar Cavern

Gideon watched as Empie tried a stealthy approach for the desserts, chuckling as evidence of her sugar-crazed ingestion began to leave their mark.

“You’re lemon-faced, matey.” He set his goblet of wine down and leaned across the table with a napkin in hand. With as much care a potter would to fine porcelain, he gently ran the cloth across her lips, then dabbed at the spill on her nose. Gideon then expressed an exaggerated look of shock, pointing at her like he just found gold. “Oh, there you are! I didn’t recognize you with all of that cake on your face.”

He sat back down and took another swig of his wine, feeling the heat from the dying hearth fire, content at the warmth they both provided him. After a week’s worth of rigorous training, it was refreshing to finally relax, kick back, and enjoy the night. Such pleasures should never be taken for granted, Gideon always said. Some, more than others. Empie’s body language shifted toward a more seductive pose, and Gideon read right through her devilish charm. He was a half-demon, after all.

"Gidey-kins...Gideeeeeeyyyyyy....did you bring me a present?" Oh how he cringed at the nickname she gave him. Still, he smiled attentively as he motioned for the leather bag he brought tonight’s dinner in.

“Funny you ask that, Empie,” Gideon grinned, admiring her spirit, amongst other things. “While the view is quite spectacular from where I’m sitting, there’s no need for that song and dance quite yet.” He momentarily broke his gaze from her ruby-eyed stare to dig through the leather rucksack.

One-by-one, he took out three cloth-wrapped objects and placed them on an empty space on the table. Each cloth cover was dyed in different colors. The red wrapping contained a small sapphire pendant, which he handed over to Empie. The yellow one was for Kucing, which held a citrine-colored ring, and the green wrapped present was for Sel. That one contained an empty stack of bound parchment with a quill and small capsule of ink.

“I know I’ve been quite the handful as of late, and by no means is this a foolish attempt to buy your friendships like some Afron Bazaar…” His words fell into silence until all that was heard were the crackling embers of the hearth, and the faint buzzing from the will-o-wisp lanterns. “Consider it a token of my appreciation.”

Gideon spoke no more on the matter. Oh by the horns of my father, how he would set me ablaze if he saw me now. It was moments like this where Gideon was glad that Oathsworn was nowhere in sight. He would never hear the end of it.

"Oh...and where's your grumpy shadow?" Speak of the beast himself.

“Most likely annoying someone, or getting annoyed himself.” Gideon shrugged.

---

***The following day...***

Oathsworn - City Center

“What heresy.” The white-haired knight spat in disgust by the torrent of side-show performances that circled about him. Overhearing gossip from The Boar’s Head tavern the night before had warned him of today’s festivities, but he was still taken aback by its indecency.

“Look at you fools! Parading around like cattle. Pleading the elder gods for slaughter!” Oathsworn couldn’t understand how anyone could celebrate the end of rain. In his culture, sky droplets were a divine blessing from the deities of Raklagi. He was taught to embrace the element as a means of washing away the bloodshed; to let it water the earth, so that the ancestors buried in its mantle could quench their war thirst. The rain represented salvation to his kind, and it was blatantly apparent to Oathsworn, that these Gandryll fools did not want to be saved.

“No need for such a temper!” A little man with a painted caricature mask tilted his head to the side, staring at Oathsworn with deep set eyes. The scene caused a crowd to gather, some smiling as if aware of what would happen next. “No more rain makes everything better!”

By some play of sorcery in Oathsworn’s mind, the man raised his mask just high enough to allow a bright flame to spew from his mouth, igniting like a fire snake that wisped into the sky, before arcing off into the distance. The crowd erupted in applause. Oathsworn was not entertained.

“A witch is among us!!!” Oathsworn buried the knuckles of his right hand into the man’s face, shattering his mask in the process. The performer crumpled to the ground with both hands raised in defense, but Oathsworn couldn’t bring himself to continue on with such a weakling. “When you die a failure, I will be there to unbury your corpse and feed your entrails to Algrati, The Fanged Savant! Master of The Iron Berserkers of Ardripoor, so that some piece of you will know true valor-“

A sudden explosion shook Oathsworn’s core, and for a moment he thought the witch had summoned a fire demon to vanquish him. The street was in chaos with people running and screaming in a frenzied panic. He turned to a plume of fire engulfing the front side of a building and grinned. Oathsworn puffed his chest and laughed as he pointed at the burning shop. “Look! Raklagi smites your evil doings! Do you still wish for the rain to go away blasphemers!? Do you!?”

Just then, a familiar smell caught his full attention. Oathsworn stuck his nose in the air and picked up Gideon’s scent. Oh, what have you done now? Oathsworn unsheathed his longsword at the site of eight Atropos soldiers, some with beasts, all closing in on the smoldering building. They were of the Nightshade Abbey, worshipers of an evil fanaticism, far more villainous than acolytes of drought. These men were not weaklings like the fire spitting clown. Oathsworn would feel no guilt disciplining the likes of these heretics.

He scraped a long nail that suddenly grew from his right index finger, running it across his cheeks as he murmured an inaudible mantra; small trickles of blood tearing from the slight wound. Without loud proclamation or a bold war cry, Oathsworn darted toward the nearest Atropos and brought his longsword down on the man’s shoulder. The blade slashed diagonally through his upper torso, then continued its downward arc out the other side of the Atropos, plunging into the beast he tamed, slaying them both in one swing.

Lior - Boar's Head Tavern

Lior awoke later in the morning then he usually would - on the streets, being up after dawn meant missing the prime begging corners and waiting too long to steal a fresh loaf of bread while it was still dim light. It was most definitely the fault of his thin feather mattress, which felt much akin to sleeping on a cloud after nights spent sleeping on street corners and between rooftops. Hurriedly he clambered from his nest of blankets, pulled on his shirt and slipped down the well worn wood of the stairs - the inn keep, Tessa, stood brusquely behind the bar polishing at the counter top. As he ascended she glanced up, and her stern face was split with a grin.

“Busiest we’ve been in a while, lad,” She says before placing a steaming bowl on the countertop from somewhere under the counter. The smell of cooked eggs fills the air, and Lior feels his knees nearly buckle with glee. Eggs. Eggs. He was near giddy as he placed himself lightly on one of the tall bar stools, and dips his head in a little half bow.

“Simply glad to be of service,” He politely returns. Glad to be hired and fed, and sleep on a warm bed. He’d never had much of a knack for stealing, and almost always felt stricken with guilt after snatching a loaf or apple. He knew being alone meant having to lever the weight of the decision: being starved, or stealing a small profit from an honest worker. Perhaps, when he had been the rich lordling son he had once been, he would have considered it owed to him. He had found very quickly that with a ragged shirt and no coin, no one gave a rats ass whether you said you were of noble birth or not.

“If you keep playing like you did last night, I think I can cut you a deal with free lodgings and food,” Tessa continues, still wearing her grin.

Lior is halfway scooping runny eggs on top of warm porridge into his mouth and deep reverie, and nearly coughs his mouthful across the newly cleaned counter top. With a splutter, he suffices to answer with an enthusiastic head nod, and Tessa smiles before returning to polishing the wood of the bar, and tutting over one of the serving girl’s, who is apparently late for her mid morning shift.

--
Lior - City Centre

With the Nightshade festival approaching, the tavern is slowed to near halting. Everyone has headed into the city proper to join in the cavorting, and Lior lets his feet take him with the sway of the crowd from the dirtier more disused sections of city.There is a secret thrill of rebellion as he imagines attending the Nightshade proceedings: his mother ever the diplomat had never been openly contemptuous of their teachings, but after they had attended the sermons and recitings with other nobles she would return him to his studies, and point out the hypocrisies and fallacies in their ruling. She spurned their cruelties and injustices, and mention the many lengthy crusades and massacres the church had funded or proceeded with themselves. She had been especially critical of their treatment of magic and its rulings, though he had little specifications why. The idea of joining in on that which his mother had so rebuked was an intoxicatingly new form of freedom he was ready to flex. He dodged out of the way of some other pedestrians, and noted that he was moving through to the better parts of town - those built more closely beneath the cliff’s of the castle.

His heavy harp and few belongings are left safely back at the inn and his shoulders feel light with the prospect of destitution no longer looming with the heavy certainty of a hangman’s noose. He squares his shoulders and walks a little taller. He had gotten this position all by himself - no mother leaning over his shoulder, pushing him this way and that. He was a free man. He could do as he wish. He was practically-

There was suddenly a terrifyingly loud noise, the force of whatever caused it rocking through the cobblestones and up through his feet. He stares, eyes wide and alarmed as he notes the plume of smoke and the fire, chewing hungrily at the building before him. His ears are ringing, and the people around him and scurrying two and fro, there mouths opening and closing with yells and cries he can’t quite make out over the ringing. He puts a hand to his head as slowly the world seems to come back with a startling clarity, and raised voices which seemed but a whisper come back with a roaring coherence. People are clearing the way faster and faster, and Lior see’s why: beyond, he sees the well known figures of the Atropos. Dressed in their sharp military uniform, and bearing with them all manner of tracking beast, they buzz about the building like ants on a nest, but with twice the bite. From the crowd comes forth a man at least twice Lior’s height, and built broad and strong - his face mottled with scars, he brandishes a longsword with the same sort of deadly grace one might expect of a viper, or a cat about to strike. For a moment, he looks to have a single long talon - and he scrapes it down a cheek, blood running freely. With a deft swing, he runs a man and dog through. The action seems almost inhumanly fast - he is obviously skilled. The Atropos is sliced clean through, and the sight of it freezes Lior in place.

This was not the leisurely stroll of subtle defiance he had intended. He suddenly wishes he hadn’t had quite so much breakfast as the hunks of what was once human slide to the ground in thick wet pieces. He feels sick. He smells smoke and fire and sweat and grit all at once, and his vision seems to swim again. He needed to hide, to flee, to crouch or run. Whatever was going on, be it by Nightshade or demon terror, he wanted no part in it. Of all the places in the world he wishes to be, he thought of the small room on the top floor of the Boar’s Head, his harp nearby. Things had finally been going so right. He watches with a sort of fascinated horror as the flames seem to engulf more of the building, and one of the passerby’s jolts into him in their rush to escape, knocking him clean off his feet. Lior lands on his back with a soft ‘whoosh’ as the air leaves his lungs in a sudden burst. He lies there, shocked and terrified and grasping at the cobblestones with elegant musicians fingers. He prays he wont get trampled.

Avalon ~ City Centre

Avalon weaved through the seething crowd, planting his pole arm, sharpened like a boat hook towards the end, into the back of one of the Atropos. It was a weapon he learned to use in Afon amongst the black-market traders and it always proved thoroughly effective. Yes, he was afraid and this was not how he had planned this. However, fear is what lit him up and fear is what gave him access to the hawk that lay within. Though he knew that the way the Canavar had shifted in broad daylight had broken their cover, he could not be concerned with that. What was important was this one Canavar who had somehow escaped death even when it pursued him in so many forms.

Avalon took stock of his surroundings. His vision had cleared and he found he could notice minute details. They were fighting well, the attention they drew was massive and he was afraid that there was no way out for them. The panic that spanned this block had, like a disease, spread through the adjacent street and was making its way towards the Kings Table, the concentration of the king, nobles and guards who would soon become wrapped up in this as well.

Hopefully, Leolin can explain this away. It was his idea after all. Avalon focused no the task at hand. Then he saw him, a terrified looking boy who seemed to believe that pressing himself into the cobblestone would obscure him completely. He obviously did not look as if he ran with the tavern crowd, as his hands looked unworked and his skin was pale and smooth which indicated a lack of manual labor. This was most definitely the young lord Taliesan.

Avalon rushed past him, scooping him up as he went and pulled him into cover. Then, he heard something in the sky that he had only heard once before in his life. Each abbey of the Nightshade was outfitted with enormous iron bells, meant to signal death. When one Abbey set off it's bells, it only meant a death within that Abbey. However, when all Abbeys within a city set off their bells at once - it meant the death of a King. Currently, the sky was trembling with the resounding sound of bells, deep chimes that resonated throughout the air. People everywhere froze and looked up to the sky watching black flags rise to the top of every Abbey in the area.

Avalon took this opportunity to signal his Canavar to stand down. A mix of human and beast withdrew with him into the shadows.

"You all know what this means. If the Abbey is correct, which I don't doubt they are, then the King is dead and we are no longer protected by him," Avalon handled himself with his usual sternness, but he did not know how long the facade could last. Despite their differences, Leolin and Avalon were like brothers and this death devastated him.

"I know of one place nearby that we can be safe, but there is no doubt that they will look for us. We made our presence quite obvious today.

Avalon drew them into the forest, unaware of a brown rat that hurried after them.

When they reached cover, in the form a cave obscured by the roots of an enormous tree, they settled to catch their breath.

"This changes everything. If the King is dead, then the Belladonna will become the interim ruler. This will make our existence even more tenuous."

"Who are you?" the boy Avalon had been supporting as they ran suddenly spoke up.

Avalon had forgotten about him in the rush into the forest. He didn't know what to say. While the King was alive, this group had a purpose, but what would they do now? Would they go their separate ways, would they search for more Canavar and protect them those that would destroy them, or would they seek vengeance for the King. Right now, all Avalon wanted to do was see the entire forest in flames. A purge of all the horrible evils that inhabited it. His absence from the Kings side would look suspicious and he as well as the rest of the Canavar would no doubt be framed for his death. It would be a few hours before the full force of Gandryll would tear up the forest looking for them.

"We are Canavar," Avalon started, deciding that answering his questions was the easiest route to take. "We existed before man but after all of the other beasts of the world. We were a transition from the wild and untamed to the rational and the self aware. Though we look human we all have a beast within us. I suspect that at one point in time, all humans were Canavar. Perhaps all humans still are - they have simply forgotten their connection to the wilderness."

Avalon suddenly felt speechless and exhausted and sat against the wall of the cave, which felt more and more like a cage as time progressed. What were they supposed to do now?

Kucing- Forest Cave.

While she would not have run under normal circumstances the words of Avalon were all that mattered, sharp bloodied teeth remained bared and a snarl was loosed from her throat that sounded like death which resonated in eerie blue eyes. She watched the retreating forms of her prey and with a gnash of her teeth jumped down to Avalon’s side, he had a boy with him, a wiry scrawny looking creature, absolutely pathetic looking, of course she’d thought that of Empie at first too with a sniff she snorted in apparent disapproval before making sure they carved a way through the town and out into the forest.

She’d spent her time here learning the woods and took her own route branch to branch, let the silly bi-peds leave their trail and tracks behind she would not be so sloppy and she would likely be the only one to survive. When finally they made for the cave the feral woman finally transformed, her lips and chin still coated in the blood of the human and largely ignored as she set to using a stick and foliage to at least hide their footprints to the cave entrance. Inside her eyes adjusted quickly and for the first time the woman smiled, albeit faintly and brief. This place was more like the homes she was used to, this was something she knew better than the bi-peds. “No fires.” She uttered quietly, her voice a rich yet savage tone, not devoid of warmth or exotic Bryn accent. “People will see.” She explained, dipping back into the cave, still very naked.

When Avalon spoke of the Kings death the cat looked briefly confused, her head tilted and for a moment she glanced to the cave entrance. She had felt no affection for the man as she felt little for this new pack, however. “He gave me a name.” Her tone unreadable until blackened claws gouged moss from the wall in large streaks. “We bleed his hunter.” Her head turned to face Avalon quizzically. “Yes?” Bi-peds were still so very confusing, the man sounded sad but humans dealt with betrayal and sadness a much different way to her clan. They let their eyes leak and sad words, ultimately no vengeance was sort often enough, she wasn’t sure if that was strength or weakness though.

Empie returned, breathing heavy with a heavy bag on her bag and sighing heavily as she slouched down in a corner. Clever girl, turning to listen to Avalon speak to the weedy one Kucing waited until they had stopped, until Avalon slouched down and looked utterly depressed. She snorted, stupid alpha. Moving over to him she put a hand reassuringly on his head as he had her on their first meeting, caressing the crown of his head as he had hers. “It’s okay.” She echoed his words and sighed addressing the cave, “No fire. Rest against caves edges, I’ve spent my life avoiding hunters with my real pride. I can lead you out of these woods without you getting caught.” The blood was beginning to dry on her face, flaking in places and falling off but leaving an even grimmer visage than the blood alone. “I will keep watch.” She briefly smiled down at Avalon, a very uncertain look to it, as if she weren’t quite sure how to do it, then the naked lady settled herself close to the cave’s mouth, stretched out against a rock and half hidden by shadows.

For the first time since getting stuck in this stupid city she felt alive again, it was almost ‘fun’ not that she would know how to express that to anyone.

Empie- Forest Cave.

She’d heard the bells toll and she knew what that meant, real trouble, the streets were alive with anger and fear and she used it to her advantage running through the streets and back to their secret hideout, soon it would no doubt be swarmed with people and so she had to be quick. Grabbing one of Avalon’s large knapsacks she packed the groups usual clothes within, Kucing’s yellow dress and shoes, the pretty ring Gid had got her too. She grabbed Sel’s things from his bunk and what she could find of Gid’s that seemed important. Then she stuffed her jewel bag inside, put on her pendant from Gid and grabbed a few waterskins, a couple loaves of bread, a few apples and some edible seeds that Avalon had sworn would make the difference between life and death if it got to that. She also grabbed one of Avalon’s research books, a length of rope, some string and a tinderbox he’d kept on his desk. Buckling the bag shut she leapt to her usual window and slipped out just as the barking got closer.

Stupid dogs, she waited for the shadowy Atropos to disappear before leaping to the ground and running into the streets. Grabbing up a fallen cloak she slung it around her shoulders and pulled it up over her face and eyes. She blended with the panicked crowd who were now between mourning and panic at what had happened. Avoiding the Atropos the best she could she picked her way from one stream of people to another, avoiding the sniffers the Atropos used wherever possible. It took her a while to reach the cities edge and longer as she leaned against a tree and steeled her nerves for the next bit. She always bragged about the street, about the things she’d done to survive, she hadn’t minded the life but to say she hadn’t been afraid every day, every waking minute of her life since realising what she was would be a lie.

She wanted to hate herself, she was a monster, she’d had such pretty eyes when she was younger, all the boys had said how beautiful she was and her mother and father had loved her so much. Then every trace of warmth had been ripped away, every friend she had was gone, even her parents found her disgusting. She’d spent her first weeks crying on the street, her nights spent wide eyed in fear of rapists or murderers and her days so scared of being caught that she hardly ate. Then one day she woke up, it was okay to feel sad but what good was it doing her? It wasn’t and so she’d decided to not be sad anymore, even still she had to swipe at the tears on her cheeks now and still her heart. Survive first, cry later.

She listened intently for a good few minutes, hearing only a small slither which she spotted to be a black length of scales, she had no idea if that was who she hoped but she chose to believe it was. Creepy snake girl had not though been intending to leave with them so even if it was her she could not follow her to the others. She had to think, red eyes scanned the floor finding residual heat traces leading off through thick scrub, with one last listen she dropped the cloak, balling it into a hole in a tree and kicking leaves and mud atop it. Then she broke into a sprint making for the scrub and not looking back, she ignored the way it threatened to rip her clothes or how it caught her fingers and cheeks and ploughed through, following the rapidly cooling spots until she came to a part where they disappeared completely. She felt hopeless until she heard, faintly, Avalon’s voice and followed it the rest of the way to the cave.

Kucing was naked again, no surprise there, Avalon was speaking to a white haired boy, that made her feel a little less special but she didn’t care, slinking into the cold dank shadows she leaned heavily against a wall, held up one finger, put both hands to her knees and began drawing long deep breaths of air. She heard Avalon’s words come to a stop, no plan? She looked up almost shocked but tried to hide it, Kucing caressed his hair and said something to him before addressing them all. Empie had no reason to doubt Kucing, she was clearly more suited for forest living than any of them and so the little demon made no attempt to deny or oppose her. It was the only plan they had right? Not that it was very much of one right now but it was better than none.

Personally Empie had always hated these woods, when she’d gotten really hungry a few times she’d come here to hunt for animals, it all looked the same to her, trees were trees they didn’t seem different and she thought she’d get lost so many times. The wall against her back was cold and after all the screaming and violence she felt very small and very defenceless. Wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt she bit back the wobble in her lip and as quiet as she could sniff back the tears she wanted to shed. This wasn’t fun anymore and she just wanted to go home, not that she could, not that any of them could now.

She bit her lip and briefly put her forehead to her knees, what was the use in being sad? She knew one way or another the home would never last, she had good memories there though right? The others probably didn’t feel the same, they’d probably leave too once they’d seen she’d got their things, or those she could carry anyway. She’d be alone again and it was terrifying but that was how life went and for now she was the happy one right? With a deep breath she let out slowly she forced the sadness to the back of her mind and bounced up to her feet as Kucing went to the mouth of the cave, “Well, I figure you all owe me big time.” The girl said, forcing the usual gleeful tone into her voice and grinning that wide smile of hers. Opening the knapsack she carefully dumped the contents onto the ground, spreading it out with her fingers; and sliding her jewel pouch into the back of her trousers, before glancing up at them all with that pixie smile of hers. “I’ll have you all know I was very tempted to keep all of this, well some of it, well just the shiny things really, I mean some of you have some really boring stuff, like Avalon, you know that book of yours, the list you were making? Boar-ring!” She grinned as she flipped through the book and casually put it down again.