"Please father? Can you tell it just one more time?" A small young boy's voice asked.

A much deeper chuckle replied. "Alright, alright my boy... Now... what's the story again?"

"You know it! The one about the High King!"

"Oh! Yes...! The High King... lets see here...." Thaimos cleared his throat and sat down next to his young boy's bed, him staring up at him with anticipation. "The land of Vahldir was created by the six mighty gods, Onlor, Nicosa, Ashar, Dardrao, Rorrt, and the most powerful, Onsyrn. They created everything in this world. Deserts, mountains, grass, rocks, trees, deer, even your bed! But their most prized creations were the Evles, Dwarves, Halflings, Alituums, and humans. They all lived happily, and one day, the gods decided that they needed someone to rule over them. They chose the bravest, purest and humble person on the land. Aleden."

"He ruled the land with peace, and protected Vahldir for quite some time. he was also the very first gift bearer, having the power of Osryn. Making him stronger than 20 men, the loyalty of a lion, and the will to never be lured by darkness. Once the dwarves found the infinite treasure though, it took more than politics to keep the land at bay. Soon it was the corrupt vs the pure of heart. And as their creations fought, so did the Gods. They created new creatures to help fight for their side, and just when it seemed that Aleden was going to win... His was killed by his most trusted advisor and friend. Fusos was given the gift of Rorrt... And he soon killed anyone else with the gifts, and the ability to fight back."

---

The night was taking a very bad toll on a horse drawn wagon. Lighting struck, the wind howled, and it was hard to see with the pouring rain. The wagon raced on though, in the back were people lying down, moaning, whimpering, and others praying. The man driving the wagon had a dark brown cloak over his head, but as the lightning flashed you could see the dark green eyes straining to keep on the trail. The man next to him had a cloth up to his nose. He stood up and looked behind the wagon, his bow in his hand. "I don't see anymore, but no doubt there will be. How much farther!" The masked man asked, sitting back down.

"But the family of Aleden fled the city before anyone could find them. They hid in a Halfling town known as Faycrest. Fortis was given to the family much later though. The elves recovered it, and as time moved on, the family of Aleden moved to a different city, blended in... but were always reminded of who they were. The sword was passed on and on... and now, Rilden, Son of Thaimos. House of Aleden, it is yours."

"Just a few more minutes!" The hooded man named Rilden screamed through the wind. The two men have wandered in to a small town known as Sap when they saw injured and helpless people on the road... So they took the initiative to help them get to a healer. Although it cut in their time to search for the Gift Bearers, their deaths would keep them up at night. Unfortunately Fusos' army was waiting for anyone willing to help them. A sign of people who would want to fight against Fusos. The night consisted of them going as fast as they could, the elf shooting arrows at the army, and them praying they could make it to the town and lose them.

They were told Damascus was the closest city to them. And stories of a very good healer was said to be there. They made it. The wagon sped through the quiet and eerie streets, rain still pouring. They stopped in front of the healing shop, the hooded man climbed off, and started to knock loudly on the door so they could hear it through the storm. The elf started to help the refugees out.

The man knocked again, unsure if they heard him. They could hear the sounds of The Tyrant's men coming closer through the gusts of winds. Hopefully the door will open, so they can hide and take shelter. No bloodshed had to be made in this town.

Angelo lived high up in the mountain with the other Alituum reading the books that threatened to consume his entire room considering the books reached high into top of the doorway and windows as Angelo kept reading and learning about many different things. Angelo's curiosity would always grip him in different times and he would learn about whatever he thought of, his father lord of the Alituum and always told Angelo that out of his brothers he was the smart and curious one but Angelo didn't stay in his room all the time.

He would go out on a walk and practiced with his sword and shield however he was only allowed to use the sword in the church his mother took him to everyday to pray and learn about the different gods the protected them because of Angelo devotion he was given the churches most sacred item Angel feather told to be given to the church by the gods themselves and the name was given since it was thought that it was this weapons power that gave the Alituum their gift of flight to soar above the clouds, while it may only be a myth its power is no legend. The sword is a sacred weapon and not meant to be handled by anyone other then a clergy member or the one the has earned the right to own it as its master, anyone that did was sentenced to death and the sword would be cleansed of the unworthy hands that touched it.

Angelo would usually stay in his room to read whenever he had the chance instead of going through the many ceremonies or traditions that needed to be followed on holidays or special occasions. During their year preferring to stick to their traditions rather then to accept new ones but Angelo honored all his families traditions for fear it would tarnish him or his family name Angelo had a high opinion of a mans honor and pride that it was everything a man had but Angelo wasn't afraid to do things his way as long as it kept his own honor clean. Angelo doesn't know why he has such a curious mind but one night Angelo had a vision or a realistic dream of a war and he was not leading It but instead he was advising a general talking him into taking odd strategies and battle plans but would win the war with minimal casualties Angelo doesn't know why it is he has that dream sometimes but it just urges Angelo to learn more about war strategies and soon rumors floated about an Alituum that could win any war....

A cry filled the room as a red-haired woman gently wiped the newborn clean with a rag.

“Its a boy,” she said. A smile broke the bearded face of the new father as the mother now began to slowly calm, her breaths still quick and heavy.

Robyn grabbed a blanket and started to swaddle the newborn, its frail cries sending her cheeks to flush in awe. At first he protested the wraps, but feeling their warmth his cries began to wane. Gently she pick him up cradling him in her arms. She couldn't help but smile, it felt so natural holding the child close.

“Lets go see mommy, hm?” she said in a soft tenor.

She handed the baby off to his parents who swooned over the child.

“Do you have a name?” she asked.

“Liam,” the father spoke in his gruffed voice, “My son's name is Liam.” The mother nodded and looked down at her child, “Liam..”

“Liam,” Robyn repeated, “a nice strong name.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The day passed without another patient. It was all just as well. Robyn is quite exhausted after the delivery. It was hard to imagine what the new mother must have felt like. She was the one doing all the work after all. The hardest real work she'd have to do is clean up.

The room and herself now cleaned she sat down tired in her chair, her blue eyes spying out the window. The sun was dipping below the horizon and a heavy rain was starting to fall. She groaned as she stood up to secure the shutters before dropping back into her chair. With a sigh she snapped her fingers and her candle went alight, casting a soft light onto the desk to which it rested. From the drawer Robyn pulled a small book bound in brown leather and a quill. She started to write.

The crackling fire from the fireplace warmed her back as she wrote. Its warm comfort almost made the ever intensifying rain and thunder outside grow more distant. No, she was just getting more tired, the storm was still going strong, her senses were just fading was all. With a yawn she put out the candle and laid her head on the desk.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

RAP! RAP! RAP!

Robyn burst awake with a gasp, spilling her inkwell in the process, although it was too dark to notice.

RAP! RAP! RAP! The door rattled again.

She jumped up, somehow full of fresh energy. She was no stranger to frantic raps at her chamber door, but they never meant good news.

She grabbed the candle and flicked it alight as she lifted up the barricade lock to the door and opened it. Outside stood a man, tall, drenched and hooded, towering over her short stature at the entryway. She had to admit she was taken aback and felt fear well up inside her.

“Ca-” she started to speak before her blue eyes fell upon an elven man helping some injured from the back of a wagon. “Oh!” she exclaimed, “Come! Come inside!” She held the door open before motioning them to place the people on some of the few beds she had.

“Lay them down. Do you know what happened to them?”

She placed the candle back onto the desk beside the spilled ink. She wanted to curse at herself for the spill but now was not the time. She knelt down beside the first of the victims and placed her hand over his forehead. He was cold, and sweaty. Looking at his chest the latter question became obvious. He had been stabbed.

Lifting part of the man's shirt she realized how deep the wound actually was. How he had survived that long was surely by luck or fate. She turned to the hooded man and pointed to a shelf which atop sat a glass bottle filled with a dark tea-like fluid. “That bottle right there, can you grab that for me?”

With one arm she supported the dying man's head and the other she extended waiting for the bottle, “Just stay with us, okay?”

"We are running out of time!" Rhovanor, the elf yelled, helping the injured out of the wagon. The hooded man turned around to stare in horror as a man was charging right for them. But before he could even touch them he heard an arrow fly at him. The hooded figure pulled out his Fortis, the legendary blade glowing faintly. The creature ran towards something in the bushes, and Rilden jumped back a bit to see a Centaur hiding within. Just then the door opened up. A red haired woman looked rather confused at first, but when she saw that Rho was guiding the injured, she didn't hesitate to let them in. The hooded man turned to see the Centaur still standing there, and gave him a nod of appreciation, before he walked in as well.

Rhovanor pulled the cloth down from his face as he gently helped the woman lay the man on the table. The rest were inside, all soaking wet. "We were traveling to Sap when we saw that the city was attacked by Orcs. We took the survivors. Said you were the person to go to when you needed medical attention..." The man under the hood said. When asked if he could get the bottle, he nodded quickly, grabbing it, and handed it to her. He then pulled off his hood to reveal his face. A strong set jaw covered in a short beard, dark green eyes, and soaked brown hair now visible. "I'm sorry to bring them in the middle of the night... but we had no other choice." Rilden said, watching her treat the man who had been stabbed.

Grasping the bottle in her hand she supported the head of the man with her other. “Here, drink this.” She carefully poured a small amount into his mouth, some dribbled down from the crease of his mouth. The observant among them would notice the bleeding cease, but only the truly keen of eye would notice a soft glimmer from her fingertips which now intermingled with the ragged hair of the man, hiding them from plain view.

“Thanks,” she said setting it one the floor beside her. The shimmer ceased and she released what seemed to be a long held breath. “He'll be okay,” she said oddly breathless, “We just need to cover the wound.” With that she placed a clean rag over the site and secured it with another rang wrapped around him.

She turned to the bed behind her and the next patient. Looking over his wounds she quickly realized that this one was not fatal, but debilitating for the time being. Without a word, she quickly wrapped the site.

It had been only a short series of minutes since the strangers had arrived upon her door but to her it seemed like only seconds. The practice had become so natural now it was easy. She only wished she had eaten and slept more before this. The stab wound forced her to use her gift, while great, drained her of her own energy. She sighed as she looked at her new guests, only now realizing the hooded man had revealed his soaked face. Seeing her guest's face put her at more of an ease than his hooded form.

Her eyes then went to his companion, a tall dark-haired elven man with the darkest green eyes she had ever seen. They unsettled her. “They should be okay to move by morning.” Robyn averted her gaze from the elf as to maintain propriety, she'd never seen an elf up close before.

It was then the sound of many boots splashing in the mud outside, and shouting. Robyn furrowed her brow at this. What in the world was going on? She slipped past the bearded man with a small 'excuse me' and started towards the door.

“What is going on out there?”

"Nat?" he heard someone ask the innkeeper. "Aye, a traveler by that name rented a room here. Look around."
Without any intent to look who was inquiring on him, the half-elf took a sip of ale. As a mercenary, his name was somewhat known, though it was rare for somebody to look exactly for him, not for any sellsword traveling around these parts. As Nat was taking second sip of his ale, a woman came by his table and asked "Are you Nat?"
Slowly placing the ale mug on table, he raised his eyes to look the woman in the face. She seemed worried and tired. Dark-haired. With a dirty face and roughed hair. Nat then looked at her ears. Not an elf a thought crossed his mind. A young human. She can't help me.

"I could be." he answered and the answer seemed to have brought much hope into the worried face of her. She plumped on a free seat on the other side of the table.
"I need help. I heard you might be here. Sap was raided by Orcs this night. It is merely a days road away.. My..friend.. He was a lumber in that city..C-could still be there.. I.." she stopped talking, because Nat lifted his hand, then took a sip of ale with another.
"What is this friend of yours to me?" the womans eyes suddenly lost all the hope they gained previously, and were filled with desperation.
"No.. Please. Listen. I-I'm not asking much, just check it. I'll give you everything I can, please." she continued desperately, with tears gathering in her eyes as she talked.
"I don't take on suicidal missions for any treasures. If I was still an officer of the Sword Sons I might, if you payed well. Sap is full of Orcs by now. I could check it, aye, might be I could even get out of there alive and journey here to tell you about it. But more likely, by tomorrow, same time, I would by lying by some road post, feeding the crows and earth worms. Not my plan."

The woman lowered her gaze into the table and started sobbing. As much as Nat felt pity for her, he couldn't risk his life for such a foolish quest for young love. If the man stayed alive he will find her. If not, its best she never saw him either.
"P-please.. We were supposed to marry next month.. Please.. I'll sleep with you..I'll do anything pl-lease..."
"Ooh, a tempting offer" Nat feigned like he was considering "No." He said and finished his ale with a gulp, then continued "Unless you can tell me of Caeves, my mother, I will not do it. And you can't tell anything, no doubt." Nat started standing up "I'll be in my room upsta.."
"Caeves? The elven priest?" The woman rubbed her eyes and snorted her nose. Nat halted. Then he looked at the woman and plumped back into the seat.
"Now, you got my attention. Tell me everything."

Until the midnight Nat kept asking the woman everything she knew about this Caeves. Nat heard more useful information that evening, than he had in the last year or so. Everything this black-haired woman said was intriguingly similar to his mother. After the woman couldn't tell him anything else Nat sat for a few heartbeats thinking.
"You paid me more than, you can imagine. I will go to Sap. Right now, in fact. If i don't send you a message or something else in three days, consider me dead, your husband too. My room is rented for 4 more days, stay there for all of that time."
Nat jumped on his legs, checked if his sword and bow are holding tight and strided of the inn.

So, my mother feigned she was a priest at a small village, the home of that woman, then she suddenly vanished. I need to repay my debt for the information. And then I'll check that town. - he thought while leaving the Inn and this town, he reached last night, behind.

Jamlamin sat there in bed next to his latest womanly companion who was happily snoring away, "At least shes better looking than some." He thought. From that thought he proceeded to think about other things such as what his next job was going to be, and then paying off his debts he had acquired from gambling, and the last being, who is going to be his next bed time companion. But these things paled to what was going to happen next. It appeared the woman he was currently spending time with was the wife of a powerful crime lord and he found that out the hard way when the man came barging into the room. "Who are you?!?!" The Man shouted drawing a dagger from his belt "I know this is your house, but haven't you ever heard of knocking?" Jamlamin replied Now this angered the man who proceeded to charge across the room to stab his wives new bed mate but he found the spot empty the man had disappeared.

As much as Jamlamin hated using his abilities, they were useful when someone tried to stab you for sleeping with their wife "That's not the first time and nor will it be the last" He thought staring at the woman's window from across the street, from the woman's house he headed for home only to find the place ransacked and a lot of things he had stolen as trophies over the years taken, frantic he ran for his bedroll and pulled away a fake door in his wall where he hid his more precious things. He picked up his foster mothers necklace the only thing in this hide away and clutched it to his chest he was relived it was safe but whoever came here would come back looking for blood so the only logical option was to leave the city. So grabbing his cloak and weapons along with a bedroll and his mothers necklace he left the city under the light of the moon not looking back.

Rhovanor and Rilden watched in surprise on how fast she seemed to make everyone feel better and at ease. It wasn't much different than what most healers have... Except Rilden saw something going on with her hands... Was she.. Glowing? Rilden shot a glance at his long time friend Rhovanor. They have been through quite a lot-- him more than Rilden. When the girl made eye contact with both, you could tell Rhovanor made her a bit more uneasy. Rilden gave a laugh, and the elf simply shrugged with a grin. He was used to that kind of thing. Especially this far away from Rayacre.

She was soon finished, but looked exhausted. "Thank you for your hospitality on such a sort notice." Rilden said, but was soon cut off by the noises from outside. The red head girl made her way for the door, but Rilden stopped her gently, putting an arm in her way, and putting his index finger to his lips.

Rhovanor very silently moved to the window, peeking outside. "Fusos' men... A few orcs... Mostly men." He said quietly. "Hopefully our centaur friend helps us now..." Rilden said. He turned his attention back to the girl. "You seem tired... If you don't mind me asking, how is it you helped them so quickly?" He asked, the footfalls getting louder but his realization was more important! The two have been searching for people with gifts, and she seemed to have a very special one... Could she be a Bearer?

Suddenly an arm blocked her path, stopping her in her tracks. She looked up at him, and started to say something before cutting herself off. His finger was to his lips. Something was not right. She looked at the elf who was now peering out the window.

"Fusos' men... A few orcs... Mostly men."

Fuso?! Her pulse quickened at the thought.

The bearded man again addressed her. She started to feel quite uncomfortable about the entire situation. A strange man and elf seek help for wounded in the middle of the night, and suddenly Fuso's men appear as well? Were her mother's warnings finally coming to pass? Was she too open with her gift? She thought she had concealed it so well using the herbal tea to distract the patient while she channelled her power. Was this a test? Had she been found out?

It was no doubt her face become quite skeptical of the two strangers in her home and she slowly stepped backwards keeping a keen eye on them both.

“Years of practice and a mother who taught me well the art of making medicine,” she lied... sorta.

She finally stopped flush with her desk and allowed her right hand to slip behind it reaching for her weapon. Already having sized up the two men she knew there was a snowball's chance in Hell she could take one of them, let alone both should it come to violence, but she was not about to go anywhere quietly.

Her hand gripped the cold blade but she was yet to move it from its hiding spot. She looked the two over once more watching their every move.

“Who are you two? And why is Fuso here?” It was not something she usually asked her guests, and it was hardly in her demeanor to do so at all. These circumstances, however, were not ordinary.

Rilden could tell she was shocked to hear it was Fusos' men. And now she gave the pair an even more scared look. She backed up, probably going for a weapon. He couldn't blame her, but Rhovanor kept to the window, and Rilden looked at her. When asked the question, Rilden gave a quick glance to his elf friend. They didn't like to give their names out to anyone in this day and age. A lot of spies... But if Rilden was right, she was one of the few who could help overthrow the Tyrant. Rilden looked at the red haired woman, and spoke calmly. "I am Rilden, son of Thaimos. House of Aleden. That is Rhovanor of Rayacre. Both of our tales are long, but I am not an enemy." He said, rolling his sleeve down to reveal a nasty burn mark of a flame on the inside of his wrist. It was the brand of a prisoner of Dorden. An enemy to the Tyrant.

"Our main quest is to seek the Gift Bearers, but we were distracted by the refugees."

"They are searching the houses now." Rhovanor said quietly, still keeping an eye outside. Rilden pulled out his blade as well, it faintly glowing in the candlelight. "This once belonged to the High King. I am the heir to the throne... But there is no way we can take it back on our own. The gift bearers have to help."

"I am Rilden, son of Thaimos. House of Aleden..."

His words and demeanor were calm and convincing, but Robyn was hardly able to believe what she was hearing. When he exposed his brand she couldn't help but widen her eyes in shock. She released her grip on the weapon. "So all the rumours are true..." She had a mix of astonishment and awe on her face. In her own home now stood royalty, he had the marks and even the sword to prove it.

"They're searching the houses now," the elven companion spoke up.

"Your highness," she said giving a quick bow, "I am indeed one you seek. Forgive my deception. My mother warned me to keep it secret. But if I may, it is not safe for you here. I have a trapdoor you can hide until they pass," she motioned at a small trapdoor under her desk, "otherwise Your Majesty should escape from the back.  They'll expect my presence here."

She was growing nervous. What would they do? She was no fighter, and it was clear although these men clearly were, they were outnumbered.

"What should we do?"

Sun was already up for a few hours as Nat finally caught a smell of burned wood, the sign he was closing in on the so called Sap town. He stopped for a moment and took his drinking bottle from the belt. Taking a few gulps of water gave him a reason to look around, see if he was followed or watched. He had no doubt that if somebody raided that village or town, let alone Orcs, they wanted something more than the townsmen's crop stocks. Carefully attaching the bottle back to his belt, Nat walked to and sat down on a nearby rock. He needed to think of the best way to approach the town.

"Should I simply enter by road?" he asked himself, knowing this would be the least suspicious way. To anyone who might be watching, that is. Yet it would leave him too vulnerable and he was not sure if that's worth a risk.

Nat heard somebody trip, at least twenty steps from him away in the brushes. The brush then rustled a bit and the sound stopped. Definitely, I'm being watched. By such clumsiness, no one else but an Orc scout. he thought. Nat realized that suddenly becoming sneaky and approacing the town other than by the road would give perfect cause to attack him. With a sigh, he stood up and continued following the road. It soon led him to the ransacked town, half of which seemed burned or destroyed.
Why are there so few corpses? Sap was small, yet there seems to be too few of the dead. Nat thought while crossing the town. There seemed to be no survivors, or they have been hiding. When the half-elf finally reached the town's center, the main road seemed heavily trampled and had wagon's tracks that seemed somewhat recent. Could the inhabitants have fled the town? he thought. Crouching and touching the dirt, he understood that the the wagon was followed, as the dirt under its tracks wasn't as fresh as that of footsteps. At the very least, a squad of men must have marched through here. The wagon had its tracks coming from outside the town, yet they were deeper as it left Sap. That meant only one thing and Nat knew exactly what.

What sort of an idiot would dare to help the wounded that the Tyrant's army left? Nat spat on the road, he then looked around and took his drinking bottle once more. After swallowing some water, he had no doubt that he was watched right now. He needed to leave Sap and do that swiftly, otherwise somebody will come out and question him. Nat started following the tracks of wagon and its pursuers without looking around too much, so it would seem to an observer that he was continuing the journey as planned.
The only place where that woman's husband might be is the place that wagon went. the half-elf thought. "I hate it that I always keep up to my promises." Nat mumbled to himself while going, occasionally hearing cracks of branches in the forests surrounding the road.

Warlynd woke up to the sound of fire, startled. He was scared, until he saw Xalia standing over fire pit, cooking. She smiled at him, and he stood up from his bed. The moment he did, it hit him. Death. He could feel it. From across the room, his head smiled. He felt it too. It seemed to be coming from the direction of Sap, a town not too far from his current home. After eating his breakfast of pork, he picked up his head, and started looking for his whip.

"Xalia, have you seen my spine?" All he got back in return was a laugh, as that sentence always seemed funny to her.

"I think it's over by your bed." Warlynd checked by his bed, and it was there.

"Thanks, I'm going to be out for at least a day, keep everything safe." She said she always did, and proceeded to hug him. He "nodded" to her, and walked out the door.

When he got out of his house, he was in a cave. (His house is in a cave.) He followed it outside, and got on his horse, Talfina, who was waiting for him at the cave entrance. He hopped on her, and directed her in the direction of Sap. Warlynd started along his way, with his head under his arm, and his whip in his hand. He passed by many travelers, but most of them just stopped and stared, or ran away from him as fast as possible. He just shrugged them off as they weren't worth his time. He usually wouldn't be in this mindset, but he was preoccupied. As he got closer and closer to Sap, he could feel the death stronger and stronger. He was basking in its glory, really, with how much he was waiting for it, as it was more pungent, so pungent, in fact, that it was like he could almost taste it, but his splendor stopped when he felt a gap in the death. It wasn't like someone was a killer, because they feel different. What he felt, was someone who wasn't killing, quite the opposite really. People were recovering from wounds, somewhere nearby. He feared that this might be a problem, especially if he just went in to try and kill them. So he put on his head, hid his whip, and started casually wandering around on his horse. He didn't want to seem like someone gifted with the art of death, so he put on an innocent warrior look, hoping to fool anyone who saw him, just in case they did.

After the sun was well past its zenith Nat had already left the Sap town far enough not to see it. However, his followers didn't leave him. Occasional cracks in the woods. Once, the half-elf could swear he heard a whisper. The wagon tracks were still quite deep too and Nat started seeing arrows stuck in the ground. every once in a while.
"Interesting. Arrows. So there was battle here. Or just a shoot-out. The pursuer's caught up, so the folk in the wagon fought back." Nat slowed down and plucked one arrow out of the ground. It was a well-made arrow, not the one you would find rusting in an old barn of a farmer.
"The wagon was not of that town. It belonged to someone else. Someone, who dares oppose Fusos. A rebel, one would call him." he thought inspecting the arrowhead.

He threw the arrow away and continued forward inspecting the wagon trail. Nat assumed that there were at most two archers, if they were bad or one if he was at least somewhat skilled, because of the density of arrows on the trail. Continuing onward he found a bloodstain, though no body. "They hit, but the body was moved. The pursuers' casualty." - he mumbled to himself.

Nat raised his head to look at the Sun. He understood there still was a lot of daylight, though he felt exhausted after the night's march. With a sigh he drank some water and continued following the trail, tired but now rather intrigued instead of being annoyed. He also needed to lose his pursuer's but couldn't think of a way yet.

Oarden sat on an old wooden stool, and tapped a silver coin on the table in front Of him. He studied the artefact that lay before him. It was a necklace with a long silver chain and a small golden symbol at the bottom. Who knows where they had found it, but a young group of sailors had brought it to him with the intention of selling it. He studied it closely. It was completely un damaged, but was it valuable? He didn't recognise the symbol, but it intrigued him. It was a hand, but it was on fire. The detail was insane. Oarden wanted it, but he couldn't let the sailors know. "How much do you want for it?" He asked, but without any interest. He palmed the coin in his hand and swapped it out with a bronze one. "Well that's a step in the wrong direction" one of the sailors commented.
"I have to find a buyer for this... It just so happens that I know somebody that may be interested. But then again, he may not." A second bronze coin appeared in his hand. The sailers looked at each over, before nodding in agreement. "Yes, I think you have a deal." One of them said confidently

"No! No! Leave me alone!" Theron was chasing a man. The poor fool made the mistake of sticking his nose where it didn't belong and now somebody wanted him dead. Task that fell upon Theron's shoulders. It was night time, Theron loved it at night that was when he could really put his skills to the test. He was in Damascus, a small town inhabited by many races. As he was chasing the guy throughout town, Theron remembered that he has throwing knives in his arsenal so he picked one and threw it in the man's leg. The man fell down on the ground as Theron got close to him, grabbed him and dragged him in an alley. "Who are you?" Asked the man. "The last thing you're gonna see in this life. Don't get me wrong, this is nothing personal, just business. Somebody wants you dead. And i'm here to fullfill the task." Said Theron as he took out one of his broadswords and stabbed the man in the stomach with it. He then forced the sword deeper into him, as the blade got halfway inside. Then he quickly took it out and cleaned it of blood with the dead guy's clothes and placed it back in it's sheath. He also took out the throwing knife which he threw in the guy's leg as he cleaned it of blood as well and put it back in it's place.

As Theron turned around to leave he remembered that the person who hired him to kill this guy also told him to bring proof of the guy's death, so Theron pulls out his dagger, returns to the dead body and cuts out his left hand. Then he quickly leave the scene, heading towards a store, as he gets inside and closes the door behind him and locks it. "You?! Did you kill him?" Asked the owner of the store. Theron reveals the hand he chopped from him after he killed him and threw it at the guy's feet. Then he takes off his mask, putting it on a table and thyen the hood covering his head. The owner looked at the hand and then back at Theron. "How do I know that this hand belongs to him? How do I know you killed the right person?" Said the owner rather in disbelief. Theron got really pissed as he pulled out his dagger, stormed at the owner as he grabbed him by his neck and pointed the blade of the dagger against it. "You have the nerve to doubt me? What do you think? That i'm some stupid amateur?" Said Theron pressing the tip of the dagger more and more against the owner's neck. "I'm not doubting you, it's just that...I wanna be sure you killed the right guy, or that you killed him at all." said the owner trying to save himself from the same fate that the person he wanted dead just had.

"Let me make one thing perfectly straight. I have no problem killing anyone in this world, regardless of the age, gender or race. I have no problem killing you just because you had the courage to doubt me." Said Theron as he let go of the man and put the dagger back in it's sheath. "Your money is there, on the table." Said the owner pointing towards a small bag that was tied. Theron takes the bag and his mask and heads to the door. "Nice doing business with you! See you around!" Said Theron as he opened the door and got out, with the owner breathing deep and checking his neck for wounds. Once outside Theron puts the money bag in his pouch and ties the mask to hiss belt, covering himself with his brown cape and his head with the cape's hood as he started heading towards the Fliying Eagle Inn.

Rilden wasn't so used to being called "your majesty" or anything greater than "you piece of dirt." So when Robyn, and Chiron called him such, he shook his head. "I am no king yet. Please, Rilden will do for now." he said politely, giving a nod. Now back to their situation. it would be foolish to take on an army with only two humans, an elf, and a centaur. Rhovanor still kept to the window, glancing back every so often to glance at Rilden. "We will put the wounded on beds." Rilden said, turning to the crowd that was feeling much better thanks to Robyn. "You have to pretend to be asleep if they come in. Rhovanor will hide down below, listening..." With that Rhovanor moved from his station, and started to help move the others in the beds. As Chiron rode off to fight the crowd, he knew that the army would not think of this as a political attack, but as a Centaur angry with the way its treated his forest.

Robyn, Rilden, and Rhovanor got everyone in position, and following after Robyn, the man and elf crawled in the small trap door. "if there is any danger, just yell." Rilden said with a nod. He wasn't a fan of leaving someone in a gamble like this... but it was their best shot of making out of this tonight in one piece.... Chiron and Robyn both showed alliegance that he was very grateful for... He prayed that him being here didn't kill them.

It was quiet where she was. She liked quiet places. Even if she had left her home on purpose, she was still a creature of habit. Her only companions were those that did not chatter and the places she slept at night, if she slept at all, where isolate and quiet. Being a giant, even if she had grown up shorter than most her kind due to malnourishment, she was a massive woman. Towering over other creatures, even looming over orcs, her kind was known to be tough. And she certainly looked the part, in her foreign sleek armor, enriched in a language forgotten and lost, save the Winterlands of her birth. The one good thing in living where time had stood still, arts considered forgotten where common knowledge to her.

Short dark hair, sharp dark eyes, everything about her would shriek out danger to creatures smaller than her, like rabbits fearing horses. Perhaps it won't eat you, but it could crush you to death with ease. Yet she was not all that she seemed. Silently she raised her hand and her companions flittered over to her. An ugly one-eyed raven and a scarred mute fairy. The pale little light hugged her thumb as the hideous bird tilted its head from side to side. A half smile crossed her sculpted features. While Giant-kind had skin like stone, their bone structure was sharp and sturdy. An Elf might call her mannish even. But what was beauty of the face, when you could have so many other kinds trapped within your memory? Beauty of history, art, music, and design. The Beauty of Technology, something you could do with your hands. Even giant hands like hers.

She had come so far in just a couple of years. Catching herself up for a hundred years lost to her people's culture and she had managed it in a few years! Nearly impossible! But not for her. For when it came to following the changes, guessing at advances in objects and structures, she always had excelled. But people and socializing where another matter completely. It was there that she was not so delicate and well learned. Most didn't even get close to just because of intimidation. The few that did were deterred by her almost barbaric mannerisms. Gulping down meats like wine and munching on bones like they were nuts and seeds. But she was not so animalistic. Meat was life to her. It helped her grow strong, stronger than she had ever felt before. And she never ate it all. Just as much as she needed. And the only bone she ever ate was that of animals, and only because she needed to. Without it her bones would become weak, or so she had been told anyway. Perhaps that had just been the starvation of her kind, having their children eat anything they could get their hands on.

"Jar," her deep but soft sultry voice was like the subtle shift in the night wind, "Circle about and check to make sure we are isolated." The raven clacked its beak and took off. The giantess put the fairy up closer to her face. "You have had enough to eat, Little One? You are warm enough?" She spoke in a whisper, as quiet as she could, so she wouldn't hurt her tiny friend. Little Tin nodded and flittered up to her favorite resting place right on Shoma's head. Once Jar circled back and caw once, she knew that they were well hidden and safe. Not close to any town, nor near any civilized creature. They would not be disturbed here.

Crossing her thick arms over her cliffside chest, she nestled back into the velvet of the rock behind her back. She needed no fire, for her blood was like rushing liquid flame. She need not pillow, for her rock hard head felt at home against the stone of their hidden cave. And she only needed a few hours sleep. Giant-kind, raised in absolute starvation in the most barbaric of conditions. The earth was a part of her and she a part of it. Kin. Sister. As if the Gods themselves had carved her kind from mountain stone, just like in the old tales. Comfort was nature itself. It was war and confliction that were the stinging prick of displacement and source of discomfort to her peaceful nature. And as sleep took over, the mists of the Dream Realm slipped slightly open to her.

A man, human, who stood taller than any giant and shone brighter than any star. He stood victorious, his light defeating the darkness. And he wielded a blade of her craftsmanship, his armor of her design and his shield stronger than any other embedded with her insignia. This human warrior, adorning her majestic craftsmanship, advanced compare to his foes. She made him the tools he used to defend and defeat. And the sense of pride and joy of all that his victorious light touched swelled within her. Greatness! Defeat of Darkness! Victory over the Cruel and Unjust! Justice for that of future Peace! The tools that aided him designed, crafted and advance by her! Masterpieces, each and every one!

It was a dream unlike any other, so powerful, so moving, so real. Like something was calling to her from far, far away...