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Interest Check | Character Bin

GM: Mizuho
Co-GM: TaroAndSelia

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It’s a beautiful day in the kingdom of Farecia. Many of it’s residents stepped out to bask in the warm sunlight, enjoying the light breeze while outside. Due to it’s large size, many people flocked to visit, and it wasn’t unusual for travelers to stop by. This day was bustling as usual, with children scampering down the alleyways, people haggling over prices in the market… There was nothing to suggest that it would be anything but a peaceful day.

Many travelers ventured within the borders of Farecia, a very common occurrence. The guards welcomed everyone was an easy-going smile after a brief cursory glance at their belongings. They didn’t really pay much attention to the various people coming and going, after all the Farecian army was confident in their skill. However, there was one man that caught their attention in particular, due to a cold breeze that arrived alongside him…

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Do you hear that? It’s the winds of change…

Another day gone, and a new day beginning.

Celosia Alesea stared at the mirror, and a tired reflection gazed back at her. ”It’s been three years…” She sighed to herself. It’s been three years since she’s left her home village of Lurais as a determined, grieving sixteen year old. On the day she left, she had vowed to do whatever it takes to fulfill her goal, yet where was she now? Staying at an inn, not having any idea where to go next, what to accomplish… Celosia had nothing to go on, but a name and after fruitlessly for three years, even this optimist was beginning to give up hope.

Giving herself a vigorous mental shake, she dipped her hands into the water basin and splashed icy water upon her face. When she glanced back up at the mirror, this time another face appeared, one filled with burning determination. ”You can do it Celosia. Something will change, something will happen. Soon. After giving herself a mental pep talk, she grinned encouragingly at herself in the mirror. She was sure something would happen in her favor. Or, that’s what she told herself every day for the past three years.

Stuffing her bag with her belongings and slinging her weapons into place, she checked herself out of the inn. She would leave Farecia today, and maybe head northeast towards Hornfell. She had heard of a recent rise in thefts over there, but Celosia didn’t carry anything worth much so she should be okay. She glanced up at the sun, shining high overhead. If she left now, she would arrive at Hornfell sooner, but the journey would take at least a couple of days, and she needed to prepare for the trip.

Celosia wandered over to the market district, browsing the various wares on display. She would need a little bit more food, some new herbs and medicine would be handy as well, she couldn’t count on her Serenade Etra all the time. While she was poking through some new clothing, she noticed something unusual. It was an unseasonably cold breeze, something akin to the chills of winter. It was strange, considering that it was in the middle of summer, and Farecia didn’t reach frigid temperatures, experiencing a mild winter at worst.

With a soft gasp, Celosia straightened out, her senses on alert. Quickly making her way out of the store, she stiffened when she stepped foot outside. A familiar feeling crept over her, the exact same one that she had felt three years ago. There was no mistaking it, it was the chilling aura of Dhoulen, the man that she had been chasing after for three years. He had a very distinct presence, one that she would never forget.

Celosia sprinted down the crowded streets, weaving her way through the confused people. Everyone was beginning to notice the unnatural chill. Shoving her way over to where the dreadful feeling intensified, her heart rate picked up from nerves and anticipation. Increasing her pace even more, Celosia knocked over various barrels and stands in her haste, and the normally polite girl didnt slow down to apologize, focused on one thing and one thing only.

However, it would seem like she was too late once again. Dhoulen was walking away from a limp body, blood staining the ground beneath it. Citizens scattered about as they fled in a panic, presumably having witnessed the murder. Dhoulen on the other hand looked calm and tranquil, his expression not showing any evidence of the terrible deed. He neatly wiped the blood off of the bloodstained sword, not bothered by the throngs of screaming people. The royal guards were unable to reach him due to the fleeing people.

Celosia hesitated for a brief moment, being knocked over by a panicking man. Picking herself up, she unsheathed her sword and leapt towards Dhoulen, swinging her sword down. He lazily looked up to see the charging Celosia. Recognizing her, he smirked and raised his own sword. The two weapons clashed ferociously. The two jumped back, tensing as they circles each other.

"Well well well, you've grown up quite a bit, haven't you?" Dhoulen drawled lazily, taking in Celosia's growth.

"I suppose I have you to thank for that." Celosia replied tightly, glaring daggers at Dhoulen.

"Really, you've grown physically, but mentally it seems you're stuck in the same place." He taunted her, not really seeing her as a challenge at all. Dhoulen casually advanced upon her grabbing Celosia in a very tight grip, moving at a nearly imperceptible speed. She could only struggle in astonishment. While Celosia has gained proficiency over the years, the already powerful Dhoulen appeared to have gained even more power.

He lifted his sword to her neck in an almost tender fashion, his onyx eyes boring into hers. "I could kill you right now... But you amuse me, I think I'll let you live a while longer." He murmured softly, his eyes glinting dangerously.

Celosia hissed under her breath, but didn't dare move with the tip of a sword resting on her throat. She didn't speak, for any movement would pierce the skin.

Did she come all this way to be killed this easily? Was this all she could accomplish after three years?

The breeze had picked up once again, and most of the citizens have disappeared by now.

Do you hear that? It's the wind of change...

Like floating leaf he drifted into town, hailed by an unheard chorus of the wind he passed by the gates and into the city proper. He lowered the brim of his hat towards his face as he looked upwards at the position of the sun. It was early noon or least something close to that time. Squinting he returned his gaze back to earth and headed deeper into Farecia ready to get into routine. The swaths of people just blended together in his eyes as they weren't his targets, nor worthy of inquiry.

Seems like the more he traveled the more things got the same. The constant progression from locale to locale with only an annoyingly small gap between his quarry and himself. The days spent hunting down clues and making money by busking. This cycle kept happening much to his perpetual chagrin; but it was not just the constant dangling of that victory being snatched that annoyed him. Truth be told it was the busking was the only thing that made him feel like his old self. The traveling had worn on him but he'd never admit much less head back. But still when all the current memories in his head are just variations in scenery, it raises questions. Questions such as why didn't he take that damn horse a while ago.

He entered the marketplace area of this city looking at the stalls full of colors. Shining wares for the eye to see from all over. With thoughts on that horse, he'd figure with just a bit more money he'd could increase his speed and not cut into his ration of money for other things outside of food. The best thing about these places however, was the nigh omnipresent shop that sold all sort of curios and relics. They tended to have the best information as more often then not the goods had a questionable origin to them.

With a confident smile he strode up to the shopkeeper, "I see you have an assortment of goods. Really interesting stuff, would you happen to have something I might be looking for. In the realm of information."

"Uh, what are you exactly looking for." The older gentlemen said to him as he eyed the foreigner with strong interest.

With an rapid motion he retrieved from his box a poster and said, "Have you seen these men?..."

Leon's walk was slow and ponderous. He never liked to walk to fast. He was always deeply wrapped in thought as he traveled. And now was now different. His hood was drawn up, and the weight of his swords dragged at his hip. Leon internally reviewed the last few years of his life. So, here we are, Leon. Two years, and still I don't know where to go. No home. Sure, you have friends, and sure, I could've just chosen to stop. Live in one of the countless villages you've passed. But why not? Leon shook away these thought. It was pointless to have this sort of argument with himself; he knew he would most likely keep wandering until he no longer could. Leon swung his bag around and pulled out his map. His map was something that was of great personal value to him; he had actually made it himself. As he traveled he was always sure to update with any new town or landmark he found. He used the landmarks around him to quickly get his bearings and figure out his location; he saw now that he has drifted back into familiar territory. It was of no consequence, since he needed to make a stop and get more foodanyways. He was near a large city- Farecia. It would be the perfect place to get more supplies.

The gates of Farecia were a welcome sight. Leon was dog tired. He's been traveling for the last 3 days straight with little rest. He was eager to find a cheap inn and have a good morning's sleep. But first he would go to the marketplace. He was eager to hit the soft part of a bed as soon as possible, so he planned on not spending a long time there. Leon strode through Farecia, the occasional passerby greeting him. Leon knew many in this city; it was a place he stopped whenever he was near, being a large town where he could gather supplies. Being the kind of person he was, he was quick to find people to help here. When Leon reached the marketplace he was quick to pick up the strange wind in the air. It wasn't a feeling he was unfamiliar with. He remembered this same feeling when he visited the ruins of his former home. He was never quite able to find out what it was, and he never really payed any heed to it, but now that he felt it again, he felt the need to search for it.

It was then that the Leon noticed the panic townspeople running. There was definitely something going on. Leon pushed past the crowd of people, drawing his weapons. Whatever it was it couldn't be good. Soon Leon reached the center of the commotion. There was a man. He was the source of the strange wind, he could feel it. And than there was a women; a stranger with long raven black hair. She had the look of a traveler, at least judging by he clothing and the look in her eyes. It was the same tired look he donned, and many others he met did. The man had her by the neck, his sword raised, ready to kill. Leon being Leon, he was quick to get himself involved. He called out to the man, "You there! Put the women down!" Leon was poised for combat, his swords raised.

Atalee snapped back to reality, staring blankly into the mirror in front of her. In its reflection, she saw a young woman, twenty-two years old, a brunette with glowing skin and bright brown eyes. More importantly, however, she saw a look of apprehension plastered on that young woman’s face. She shut her eyes for a moment and then looked down at herself, bringing her hand up to her neck, and reaching for an ovular locket attached to a thin chain necklace. Holding it in one hand, she reached over with the other and opened it, staring at the contents within. She wondered to herself whether she had made the right decision, whether abandoning her friends and family and leaving the monastery was really the right thing to do. “What if I was mistaken? What if I did not see the Goddess Vexa in my dream? What will I do? Where will I go? Could I really just return home and pretend like everything was normal? What would I say? Could I beg for forgiveness and plead with them to let me return? How would they react, and could I be sure that…”

“No…” The young woman reassured herself.

“The Goddess Vexa came to me.” She looked back up to herself in the mirror. “She came to me in a dream and shared with me her vision.”

The sister turned her attention to the window above the bed across the room. She saw sunlight pour through and penetrate the otherwise dark room with its intensity. She heard the sounds of the outside world, everything from the incomprehensible babble of soldiers to bartering between merchants and their customers to birds chirping to horses neighing… even something that sounded like muffled screams in the distance, unlikely as that might have been. In addition to all those sounds, she smelled fruits, vegetables, meats, leathers, wools, and a variety of other things that were for sale at the shops and stands outside. The outside world beckoned her, and although she had gotten up hours ago, she spent her time in the cozy little inn mulling over her current situation, hesitant to set for outside and continue her thus aimless journey across Zenith.

“No more dawdling about.” She finally decided.

Atalee left her position in front of the small wooden vanity and walked over to her bed where she had gathered her belongings. First, she reached for a pair of iron gauntlets, smelted from ore collected from caves within the mountain that her monastery was built into. She slipped one over her bare hand and then the other. Next, she grabbed for a leather belt, made from the skin of cows that the sisters kept at the monastery for food and milk. She wrapped the belt around her waist, tightening it and then locking it in the front. With her belt firmly situated, Atalee began attaching several small packs for various knickknacks and miscellaneous things that she had collected thus far. Then, she motioned for a sheath that lay diagonally across the bed and stored her trusty sword, Guardian’s Oath. The sheath came with a metal attachment that allowed it to lock onto her belt. Atalee spent a few moments doing putting it in place, securing the sheath so that neither it nor her sword would get loose. Once all that was finished, she grabbed for her small brown sag of goods, including some spare clothes and rations, though the latter was getting dangerously low…

Taking one final look around the room, Atalee made sure that she wasn’t forgetting anything before she departed. Sure that she had everything, she headed for the door and entered a corridor that led to stairs which would take her to the lobby beneath. Beyond that, she would walk past the innkeeper, a kindly old man, and out the door. She did all this, somewhat distracted by her thoughts, specifically that pestering doubt that crept up on her from time to time. Again, she wondered to herself, “What if I am wrong? What if it really was just a dream, and the Goddess Vexa did not speak to me? Worse yet, what if it was demons? What if those foul creatures masqueraded as the Mother Goddess and purposefully tried to separate me from my friends and family? What if they are stalking me, just waiting until I am at my most vulnerable…?”

“Nonsense…” Atalee stated aloud, confirming her resolve.

Atalee never considered herself to be an anxious individual. However, she had been on the road for months, and she was running low on food, water, and money. She had no idea what she was supposed to be doing or where she was supposed to go, and she figured that if she didn’t figure out soon, she wouldn’t have anything left when she finally did. The young woman spent her time doing random tasks for people, putting her unique skills to work, usually for a warm meal or even a place to rest her head. Other times, especially when she was on the road, she hunted for her own food and found her own water, storing some away for future use. Despite all that, her sack became lighter and lighter by the day, and likewise, every time she opened her money bag, it was to withdraw rather than to deposit.

Nevertheless, she stepped out into the busy city street…

…and almost collided with somebody sprinting past. It appeared as if a small crowd of people were running away from something. Atalee had no idea what it was or what it could possibly be. However, it piqued her interest, partly out of curiosity but also because she worried that somebody might have been in danger. In regards to the former, Atalee always thought of herself as having a natural curiosity, wanting to know the who, what, where, when, and why. She spent a significant amount of her childhood asking questions, probing her mother and aunts with various questions about the world. Then, with the latter, Atalee always felt that she had an obligation to protect the innocent and that the Goddess Vexa bestowed upon her a great power that should be used to defend the weak and the weary. If she saw somebody in need, she always felt that she needed to help, and likewise, if she saw somebody in danger, she thought that her powers obligated her to help them, regardless of who they were or what they might have done to put themselves in that situation.

The sister began making her way in the direction of the commotion, brushing past fleeing people and sidestepping onlookers who decided to stay and see what all the fuss was about. The closer she got to what she presumed to be the origin of all of this, the louder and more frantic people became. Again, she wondered what was going on and why these people were so scared. However, it did not bother her. She kept a clear mind, more than ready to face down whatever was causing this commotion, or at the very least, lend a helping hand if anybody was hurt or otherwise injured in some way.

“You there! Put the woman down!” Atalee heard somebody shout in the near distance.

She figured she was getting close and began walking faster until she came to a clearing. Most of the people had long since run off, and those who remained were hiding behind crates, barrels, and other obstructions. Then, Atalee saw a large man standing over a corpse and holding the sharp end of a sword up to a dark-haired woman’s throat. Several feet away, she also saw a second man, this one much younger but nevertheless a fierce-looking warrior.

At this point, Atalee felt it appropriate to say something. She figured that the second man was the one who called out for the first to release the woman and that he probably did so upon his arrival. That gesture suggested that she was likewise obligated to make some kind of demand or threat so that the large man would be more inclined to release the young woman…

However, nothing came to mind.

Still, she went on regardless.

“I…” she formulated the words in her head and spoke with her unusually thick accent. “I... do not know what to say here, but please release this woman so that this situation may be resolved peacefully.”

Tyrell felt a shiver run down his spine. It was more than the abnormal chill in the air; his sense of self-preservation had just raised the alarm. Something bad had entered town. That meant it was time for Tyrell to exit town.

"Time to go," he stated, turning back to his companion. Surely even a country bumpkin could tell there was trouble in the air.

Joscelin had indeed felt the same chill that Tyrell just had, and turned to look at her traveling companion as he stated rather than suggested that they should depart. But whereas this chill had raised alarm in her friend, Joscelin could feel an almost uncontrollable excitement beginning to well up in her.

"Go?!" She responded incredulously, looking down at Tyrell for a moment before glancing down the way in the direction of a commotion that she could hear coming from the square. "Maybe if you mean 'go help!' It wouldn't be fitting for a hero to run at the first sign of trouble!" She said, grinning down at her friend as she almost had to struggle not to run off toward that ill presence right then and there. "I might not be a hero yet, but I'll never be one if I don't act like it!"

Tyrell almost wanted to cry. "Yeah, yeah, but there's the sayin': the better part o' discretion is valor. No, wait-!"

Joscelin laughed a bit at that, placing one hand on Principale's hilt and squeezing to try and vent a bit of her excitement long enough to talk Tyrell into coming. "That sounds like a saying I can get behind!" She commented, turning to look at Tyrell again, practically bouncing up and down at this point. "C'mon c'mon! I promise I'll never ask for anything from you again if we just go help!"

Tyrell hung his head in defeat. She wouldn't even remember those words thirty minutes from now. "Fine. Let's go."

As soon as Joscelin bolted, Tyrell followed her for a block. Once they reached the crowd fleeing from danger, though, Tyrell let himself get swept away in the confusion. He worked his way to an alley at the side and disappeared into it. "Discretion is the better part of valor. Discretion is the better part of valor," he muttered to himself. The last thing he needed was to mess up his own counterarguments.

Having been completely oblivious of Tyrell's disappearance, Joscelin continued rushing off in the opposite direction of the crowd she was busily elbowing her way through - while also apologizing to everyone she bumped into, of course. Whatever this was, it had to be something genuinely exciting to be getting all these people terrified like this. The anticipation was killing her!

As soon as she burst through the last line of people fleeing in terror, she spotted the man that was the obvious source of the commotion: a sinister looking man holding a sword to a woman's throat, while another bloody corpse lay at his feet. A true blue villainous scoundrel if she'd ever seen one! From the looks of it, at least two others had gotten roughly the same idea as her, a man and a woman both confronting the villain as well.

"Unhand her this instant, or face the consequences!" She called out to the man as she ran up to stand by the man's side, having arrived closer to him. She half-unsheathed Principale but not didn't do so entirely, in case he actually obeyed. Not that he looked particularly like the type to obey. She was still wearing a small grin despite the situation, as the three of them waited for the man to make a move. Somehow, she still hadn't noticed that it was supposed to be the four of them, too worked up to notice Tyrell's absence.

Nathimys finished buttoning up his vest, grabbing his cloak from where it was draped over a bar with his foot. In one swift movement, he launched it a few feet into the air. He stepped forwards, putting his left arm though the left sleeve as it fell, spinning in a half circle towards the door as he put his other arm through the other sleeve. As he walked towards the door, he buttoned two of the buttons, the one just below his waist and the one just above his waist. He stopped by the door, picking up his bow and quiver, putting both over his shoulder. He picked up his claws from where they were on the dresser, clipping them to his belt.

Satisfied, Nathimys stepped forwards, throwing his sandals into the air with his feet, catching them with his hands. He clipped them into the back of the belt, opening the door, then stepping into the top floor of the inn. He stepped down the stairs, opening the door and walking outside. No trouble to day, nothing out of the ordinary. "Nothing unusual, just the normal, mundane screaming and running that accompanies every day." He said to himself, smiling. That didn't sound quite right. Screaming and running.. He thought, hitting himself with his palm. I'm either losing my mind, or the lack of sleep is getting to me..

He calmly walked forwards onto the street, jogging towards the commotion. I hope it's a group of people. One person to kill simply isn't enough. Especially if there are others there. Nathimys continued jogging, his claws bouncing at his side under his cloak. He was sure there would be at least some action. Nathimys came upon a cobbler. He glared at it, then continued on.

Rounding a corner, he took a shortcut through an alleyway, climbing over a small wall. He continued into the open street, coming towards the epicentre of the screaming.

"Yessss.. Very nissse." Nathimys could feel his fingers gripping imaginary claws as he imagined a fight coming. He could feel his soul clawing for one. A great one.

He wanted to punch a wall when he saw only one man with one bloody body, holding a sword to one girl. Why can't murderers just come in groups, damnit? He thought, taking out one of his claws and then stabbing the air. He put the claws back. Several of the people spoke up, talking to who they suspected was the murderer.

"Yes." Nathimys said, agreeing with some of the people. "Let her go, it would be a shaaaame if something were to happen to you." He said, hissing some of the words. He was seriously considering killing someone right now, despite what the rest of him wanted to do. The claws want hugs. Many hugs.

This day began like any other, with Ava awake long before the sun so as to watch it rise. Her father had always liked the sunset, but she preferred the beginning of the new day. Ava turned her hollow gaze down to the street below, where people of all sorts were beginning to stir and move about. Today was just another day in Farecia. Ava turned and walked back inside from the balcony, it wouldn't do for commoners to see her in only her black nightgown.

Ava’s room was three stories separated from the soon-to-be-bustling streets below and had cost a small fortune to acquire. Thankfully, Ava did not have a small fortune. The girl emerged from the bath an hour later, the noises drifting through the open balcony doors telling her that the day had fully begun. Putting up her long gray hair and donning her usual dreary dress, Ava walked out the door. She never bothered locking it, as her anti-theft traps would be far more effective than and simple lock.

Ava sat outside of a small tea parlor, a drop of gray set against a backdrop of bright pink. The shop's color displeased her, but its location was perfect for overhearing the most interesting of facts that weary travelers brought with them to spout at anyone unfortunate enough to ask. All she'd overheard to day had been that some too-loud woman's son was dying of something or another. Ava didn't care what he was dying of, as the dead were rarely relevant to the affairs living. Another day with nothing gained and so much time lost. Ava sipped her tea. Cold.

Ava stared into her cup of cold tea, wondering who had served her cold tea and finding that she didn't particularly care. She walked a moment later out of the pink door, a new cup of tea in her hands. Taking her seat back from a skittish old woman, Ava resumed her listening and watching. A pair of children was playing on the opposite side of the street.

"How cute, the children playing I mean. I saw you watching them just now." A woman with unnaturally-blonde hair that had walked out of the tea parlor a minute ago decided to strike up conversation with Ava.

"Please leave me," Ava replied.

The response seemed to leave the woman confused. She obviously wasn't used to having another person speak rudely to her face. "Um excuse me, wha-"

"Please walk away," Ava said again. There was more poison in her voice than she held on her person, and either could be deadly. The woman ran more than walked away. Ava had no interest is speaking with people like her. She’d left the world of lords and airheaded ladies on bad terms, and she intended to keep it that way.

The sound of a crowd running, closely followed by the sight of a crowd running, earned Ava’s attentions. And what was it that could have instigated this particular commotion? Her senses becoming alert for potential dangers, Ava suddenly became aware of an unnatural chill in the air. It was the middle of summer, there should not be a chill in the air. And her tea should not be cold. Ava stood and walked away with her cup of tea, leaving enough of a tip to cover the ornate cup.

The red eyes of the demon-child split the rush of people as she walked against the pressing crowd. One man was looking behind him and didn’t see her. He almost ran her down, but at the last moment he was thrown to the side violently. Ava continued walking, the powerful tail of her scorpion puppet slipping back into her gray folds unseen. She wondered if the man would die, trampled by the stampede of bodies and feet, but it was only a passing thought, gone in an instant and never thought of again.

And then the wave of human flesh had passed, and Ava came upon the scene of the crime that had made the crowd of people flee. “Oh, a corpse,” she said in a completely monotone voice, sounding almost put off that it was ‘just’ a corpse. She was far more interested in the man standing over the corpse; the man who was not holding a raven-haired woman by the throat with one hand and leveling a sword to strike with the other. Finally, something interesting was happening in this boring city.

There were others besides Ava who had gone against the rush of fleeing people; other deviants rushing towards the source of the commotion instead of away like a normal person. Despite their words and threats, the man showed no sign of compliance. And why should he? If he was confident enough to walk into a busy city in the middle of the day just to kill once, why should the cries of a select few too stupid to know when to run stop him from doing it again? But Ava couldn't have cared less about some ditz’ neck getting messed up; that man was ruining a perfectly good day, and multiple cups of perfectly good tea. Well, the tea wasn't really all that good, but it was a matter of principle. One did not waste.

Setting her now-empty cup down on the ground, Ava crossed her arms and touched a finger to the tip of each of the arrows she kept loaded in the miniature crossbows attached to the underside of her arms, hidden by loose gray fabric and shadow. A touch was all it took to plant the strings. She fired both without warning, the arrows tearing through the air from behind the other spectators. One was aimed to hit the tip of the man’s sword - if the vibrations made him cut the poor girl, then so be it – but the other was aimed nowhere near the man or his girl, instead it would collide with the wall twenty feet behind them, coming nowhere near either. The puppet string that ran between the two arrows and then back to Ava’s fingertips was set to attach itself to the tip of the sword and the man’s body like spider web. Ava had no illusions of being able to move either the man or his sword with her puny strength, but her puppet was another matter entirely. Should either arrow find its mark, Ava would enlarge her scorpion puppet in an instant to pull the man away for punishment.

Ava took an eager step forward as the arrows flew, and something crunched under her foot. Looking down, she saw the shattered remains of an ornate white teacup.

Three days. She had been there for three days, and nothing caught her eye. It wasn't aggravating, nor annoying, but it was, however, disappointing. She had sat in different locations throughout the city each day, waiting to see if there were any unusual items that she could look at. She had sat in the alleyways, the marketplace, and the residential area, in her gentle, cross-legged fashion. Both residents and travelers alike had given her a second glance, or had been scared off by the strange outfit she wore. Some had even attempted to chase her away through the use of harsh words and threats, but she would remain in that spot until the latest hour, the beginning of a new day. When she did leave, she would return to the inn that had allowed her to stay, with the negotiation that she did not scare any of the other guests.

In her room, she would discard her day's clothes, revealing her bright, wonder-filled eyes, beautiful, flowing hair, and soft, fair skin, and then move on to a different routine. She would remove her horned helm, and polish and clean it, so it could be used again without discomfort. She cleaned her armor, and all of its trinkets, scales, and oddities. She would place herbs with a good smell in her boots and and greaves. Finally, she would don a more casual outfit over her pants, one that allowed her to sleep more easily on a bed, something she doesn't often have a chance to do anymore. She cherished it for the moment, and drift into blissful slumber.

…

Today is a new day. She would remove her night attire, and wear her traveling clothes once more, putting on her greaves, and boots, and armor. Then she would place the odd helmet on again. Before she made a move for the door, however, a child knocked and entered. it was the inn keeper's child. A boy, no older than five years, had come to sate his curiosity. He went up to her and asked, "What's your name, Mister?"

She smiled behind her helmet. It was normal for others to assume that she was a man, for the armor hid her womanly features. She gave soft laugh, and said in petit voice, "Freya"

The boy was surprised, to say the least. Freya always loved to see that.

As a courtesy, Freya never left an Inn without a parting gift. She kneeled down to the boy and looked into his eyes. She could see his potential. He could become a wise scholar, but she could tell that he wanted to become a brave leader. In response, she reached her hand out to him. Stretching her fingers outward, she revealed a ring with an orange jewel. Inside the jewel was a signet of an owl. She placed it into the boy's hand and placed a finger on his lips to keep him from saying anything. She said to him, "Keep this ring. It is a sign of our friendship. I see your potential to become a wise leader. Wear this as you grow, and it will guide you when you need it."

Freya took her finger off the boy's lips, and he nodded to her. Freya stood up, and took hold of her belongings. She carried the large blue cloth, which was filled with heavy armor, out the Inn's doors. As she looked back, she found the boy looking out the window of the room she had been in for three nights. He wore the ring. She smiled behind her Helmet, and continued to walk.

As Freya walked, she could hear the winds of change...

Blasted morning.

Through the cracks between the thick branches of the trees, the grey-gold light of morning was shining through. Cool winds gently blew between the countless trunks, stirring some of the less unfortunate animals that didn't have burrows to shield them. Birds began to stir, chirping and singing their morning songs to awake those who were too stubborn to get up on their own. Slowly, surely, the woods began to buzz with life, animals coming to life all around. As the sun rose higher, the forest only grew louder, until it was nearly deafening. At least, only to the keen ear. Or someone who had been listening to only silence for the past ten or so hours.

It was better quiet.

Standing perfectly still amidst the center of it all stood a large man. At least, at first glance it would have appeared to be a man. Upon closer examination, one would see between the helmet and half-mask the blue that had appeared as eyes was a pale blue glow, and the rest empty black sockets, as if darkness radiated from within the creature's very skull. Around the eyes, one would see the old, yellow bone of the skull. The coarse, grey-black metal of its armor seemed to radiate the cold that chilled the winds of the forest, though little of it could be seen over the collection of furs that adorned it. A short brown-grey kilt, stitched together out of wolf pelts, and a huge cloak of made from some unfortunate bear. It's chest and shoulders were patched around with various smaller furs, though they were mostly raccoon and rabbits. Around its neck were the skulls of little animals: Mice, squirrels, small birds.

It had been standing there the entire night, along with the previous day. In the curved horns of its helmet were the beginnings of a pair of nests, straw and twigs criss-crossed over them. On his shoulders and the top of his head sat a few birds, and even one squirrel was brave enough to begin crawling up one of its legs. If not for the glow of its eyes, one would assume that someone had died standing long ago, and refused to fall. Clutched in its right hand, one of the blades resting on the ground, was a massive battle axe, the blades in pristine condition, despite the wielder's own.

Off in the distance, a scream pierced the air, silencing the forest for a moment. But only for a moment, as it was quickly back to its little ocean of sound. The creature's head slowly turned to the side, stirring the little bird that had been resting on the helmet. With stiff movement, it gently rolled its shoulders, coaxing the birds into flying off. The squirrel, startled by the initial movement, was already gone and up a tree, and was now staring curiously at the creature. Its left hand moved up, and brushed the would-be nests from its horns, and then turned in the direction of the scream. Its foot lifted up, and dropped heavily on the ground, its first step in the direction of the cry.

She will not come to harm.

Lifting the axe up until the pole rested on its shoulder, the skeleton stepped through the forest, on a direct path towards the scream. It hadn't taken but a few steps when another pierced the air, but was silenced midway. It stopped dead, recalculated the area, and began to walk once more, albeit more hurriedly. Low growls and grumbles escaped it as it moved, signifying its anger. It would have already been there, moved faster, if not for the blasted armor it needed to wear to protect itself. The stuff was so cumbersome, but so useful. The grip on the hilt tightened, a small squeak escaping the leather. Almost to the spot...

The creature came upon a little cabin in a cleared out section of the woods. Off in the distance, between the trees, it could see the road, though it was quite a bit away. Too far for someone to escape to without being noticed. From within, it could hear the sounds of a struggle: Things bashing around, something crashing, sounding suspiciously like a vase or glass, a muffle shout. A louder, male shout. The creature didn't need to hear more. Didn't want to hear more. It would not tolerate this, whatever it was. Though, it had a good idea of what was happening inside. Or, at least, what was likely to happen. Stepping up to the door, it raised a foot up, and placed it on it. There was a loud thump as the metal connected, and everything inside went quiet all of a sudden. The creature pushed on the door, letting out a strained groan as it did so. The wood creaked beneath the forced, bending inward. Small cracks sounded, followed by a few more loud ones. Finally, with a crash, the door burst inward, sending splinters flying through, the shattered remains falling to the floor. The creature's foot slammed into the ground, cracking the floorboard beneath it. It looked up, its cold, dead eyes taking in the scene before it.

Before it stood a man, standing over a woman lying in the floor. He looked like a simple man, easily pegged as a peasant from his clothing and thick beard. The woman was also clearly a peasant from her dress, though exceptionally beautiful for her social stature. Long, blonde locks flowed from her head, draped over the side of her face and over the floor. Blood seeped from a gash in her arm, staining the floor. The man held a hatchet in his hand, the blade red and wet. They pair stared up at the creature, him with fear and rage, her with hope and wonder. Its free hand rose, gripping the top edge of the mask, and ripped it off, showing its skull to them, the yellowed teeth gnashing together. Before either could react, it let out a savage roar, and charged the man, dropping its axe in the process.

He let out a cry and swung with his axe. The blade thunked into a shoulder, digging into the hide that covered it before bouncing off the metal plating beneath. The creature barreled into him, tackling him down to the ground. The breath was knocked from the man, and there was a snapping sound. He let out a scream, but a metal clad hand covered his face, silencing him. The hand with the axe came swinging around, trying to slice at the creature, but its other hand came up, catching the clumsy man's wrist. The grip tightened, and a muffled cry escaped as the hand contorted around and dropped the hatchet. There was another loud crack, the man's wrist shattering beneath the might of the monster.

It's hand lifted from his face, and clamped around his neck. It reached down and picked up the hatchet, then slowly stood up, bringing the man with him. He held him up in the air, then shoved him against the wall, holding him there for a moment. The creature raised the axe up, and the man's eyes widened. He began pleading, begging for his life, offering what little money he had. The hatchet raised high above the skeleton, at its precipice. The man offered the girl in exchange for his life. A guttural sound escaped it, and the axe swung down, embedding itself into the man's skull and the wall, pinning him there. Blood spattered out from the wound, splashing over the front of the monster, staining its face and chest.

Releasing the man's neck, allowing the axe to hold him to the wall, it turned back to the girl. She was clutching her arm, blood seeping through her fingers, staring at it horrified. It took a step towards her, and she shrunk away, crawling backwards, slipping around in her own blood. A small noise escaped it, sounding like a whimper, and it turned back to the corpse behind it. There was a loud ripping sound, and it turned back, holding up long strands of the man's shirt. It made towards her, while she moved back, and knelt down. As gently as it could, it took hold of her wrist, and tried to pry her hand off of her wound. She screamed and cried for it to leave her alone, but it only ignored her as it pried the hand away, and quickly set to work, wrapping up the arm in the makeshift bandages. Seeing it did not mean harm, she stopped struggling, and allowed it to work, sniffling and crying all the while.

Once complete, it left her alone for a moment to retrieve its axe. It slipped it beneath its cloak, through a small loop that acted like a sheath. When it turned, the girl was still sitting there, gazing at her arm, at the blood still seeping through. It made its way back towards her, and gently lifted her up. She didn't bother to struggle - likely, she knew it would only mean her falling down to the ground and bashing her head. It made its way out, not bothering to retrieve the mask, and glanced around for where the road was. After a moment of searching, it began to head in the right direction, the cobblestone becoming more and more visible through the lessening trunks.

Jitters stepped from the shade and into the morning light, staring out over the expanse of grass opposite its side of the road. It looked to the right, and saw the city in the distance. No travelers were on the road now, but it could see the silhouette of an armored man, presumably a guard off in the direction of the city. It set the girl down on her feet, and pointed towards the direction. From beneath its kilt, it retrieved a little sack and gave her a few silvers from, and gave her a little push to get her going. She started off at a walk, then burst into a run, as if eager to get away from the monstrosity.

Satisfied with its work, it settled down at the base of a tree, its back resting against it. It tilted its head back and allowed its jaw to fall slack, taking on the appearance of a long dead warrior. The light in its eyes dulled down until they were nearly non-existent, only able to be seen from nearly right on top of it.

Good job. Time for a rest.

"And you're sure, Master Lucazza? The merchandise are safe and unharmed?" A young nobleman with his arms crossed over his expensive silk tunic stared at Lucazza with alarmed eyes, his brows tense and wrinkled. The young man’s glare was enough to stop an attacking bear in its tracks. But Lucazza reassured him with a warm smile, his mustache wiggling like an excited worm.

"Not to worry, Master Giotto. The bandits, ruthless and barbaric as they were, were neatly taken care of by the mercs you've hired. They're dinged up and bruised, but be assured that the valuables are unharmed and are in perfect condition. Just only a little over a month left until the caravan reach the city, and then I can prove to you my abilities as a valuable asset." Lucazza’s eyes twinkled as he beamed at his partner, the same sparkle that glittered about his sweaty mustache.

Giotto gave a deep, relieved sigh as he leaned back against the banister, letting his beefy arms relax and fall to his sides. The two men were standing ontop of a balcony of Dmitri Giotto’s mansion, the blazing sunlight accentuating the expensiveness of their suits. Giotto was a nobleman of middle-class; his family deriving from generations of businessmen and politicians. He himself made his own little fortune through the investments of small businesses owned by higher-class merchants. He had a little chain of successful establishments littered across several districts throughout the city.

His most recent investment was to a young merchant by the name of Nikoros Lucazza. Lucazza was from a neighboring city who had travelled to the capital of Farecia in the hopes of seeking out a compatible business partner in order to fund the transportation of a secretive yet promising resource: synthetic oil that is guaranteed to extend the duration of a lit lamp by eighty percent. With this new source of fuel for light introduced to Farecia by Giotto, Lucazza promised that the young aristocrat would be able to buy out and dominate the existing illumination industry. Not only that, but because this was such a scientific breakthrough with the construction of a more reliable, efficient fuel for light, Lucazza promised that Giotto could be named “the Father of Light”, a title that was the final push into sealing the deal. Noblemen love titles.

And so the youthful partnership was established between two handsome young men. Giotto would invest in the transportation and production of the synthetic oil, as well as setting up a factory within the city of Farecia, while Lucazza would do the ‘heavy-work’, which includes all of the paper-work, the organization of caravans, and the overseeing of the operation as a whole. All Giotto had to do was to supply the funds and to pay for any miscellaneous expenses.

Expenses such as the medical bills of hired, bleeding mercenaries.

“So, Dmitri, my brother, all I need you to do is sign this bank note here stating for the withdrawal of...several amounts of gold so I can properly send medical supplies and physicians to rendezvous with our caravan.” Lucazza smile apologetically. He twirled the ends of his mustache as he nervously waited for his friend’s reply. It has been three weeks into the estimated two-month long operation, and Giotto had already spent double the amount of his budget for the first month.

The young nobleman scowled. “What? Why so much? This is triple the amount that you asked for yesterday! You told me that there were no more hindrances to our plans, Nikoros!” Giotto groaned, rubbing his face tiredly with his gloved hand. Lucazza winced, feeling the stress radiating from his partner. He sighed, looking at Giotto directly in the eyes.

“I know, Dmitri, and I’m sorry. It can’t be helped. Yesterday’s expenses were for the horses plagued by fever. You know we can’t advance our operation with such a plight. How are we to move our caravans with dead horses? But with the medicine, those brutish beasts are as healthy as ever, if not more. However, today, the expenses are for the treatment of men, Dmitri, and we beautiful creatures are far more complex and superior than simple beasts. It’s only logical that the prescription would cost more. We also need to take into the account of tending to our travelling physicians. You know how soft those men are, they need to be pampered or else they’ll break when on the road. I know that you can see reason in what I’m saying, my friend. Just a few more gold. This is for the sake of our business.” Lucazza crossed his arms, eyeing his silent partner warily.

Finally, with another worn-out groan, Giotto snatched the parchment and went back inside to his office. Lucazza smiled to himself, pleased to have avoided the tantrum of his friend. As he straightened up and dusted off his coat, Giotto came back with the note in hand. He glared firmly at Lucazza.

“Remember our deal, Nikoros. This investment has already costed me a fourth of my savings.” Giotto took a step forward, reaching out and clutching Lucazza by the collar of his tunic viciously. The nobleman was substantially bigger and stronger than Lucazza. “If this thing doesn’t pull through, expect me at your doorstep to rip off your balls and make you watch as I feed them to the starving and desperate lepers infested in the alleyways.”

The smaller man nodded, grabbing the bank note and pulling away from Giotto’s clutches fearlessly. Lucazza patted his partner’s arm reassuringly and gave a wide smile.

“Just trust me.”

And with that, Lucazza tucked away the bank note into his coat and left.

He suppressed a delightful laugh as he was escorted out of the mansion’s gate by Giotto’s butler, which he tipped generously for the gentleman’s abbreviated company. The butler, shocked by such a large sum, respectfully declined but the young man shook his head, giving the gentleman a sly smile.

“Don’t fret, now. I’m a man of numerous wealth. In fact, I have just acquired a delicious amount to my fortunes not too long ago.” Zico winked and wiggled his droopy and lopsided mustache, the facial hair fake as the operation to deliver 'synthetic oil' that ‘Lucazza’ promised to the buffoon Giotto.

There was no oil, no caravan, no injured mercenaries. For the past three weeks, Zico has been duping Giotto out of hundreds of gold, stating that the money was needed to fund the transportation of goods. Zico had fronted the nobleman with fake obstructions that could easily be dislodged with money. But the scam has ran it's course; Giotto's getting impatient, but more dangerously, suspicious. Now was the time to shed the colorful persona that is "Lucazza" and flee the city. With ten handfuls of gold, of course.

As the butler retreated back into the mansion, Zico bursted out laughing, the thought of increasing his riches tickling his insides.

He took a last glance at the mansion, spat on the ground, and boarded an awaiting carriage that was parked at the end of the pathway. With a signal to the driver, the horses start trotting, the wheels began to move, and they disappeared into the roaring streets.

They were just rounding the block, heading to Zico’s private bank establishment to deposit his ‘payment’ when the carriage suddenly stopped. The sudden cutoff of movement made Zico’s body lurch forward, causing his head to slam into the back of the driver’s seat. His mustache fell off from the impact, along with the signed banknote that was clutched in his hands.

“NO!” Zico screamed, but it was all for naught. Dazed and confused, Zico hysterically tried to reach for the note but a sudden gust of wind blew it out of the carriage...

...where a metal crossbow bolt intercepted it in mid-air and shredded the parchment into worthless pieces.

Zico cried out, clutching his heart, not even noticing the the scene in front of him: a man holding a victim hostage with a sword, surrounded by fierce individuals brandishing their own weapons, including a petite woman with mounted crossbows on her arms.

“MY MONEY!” He sobbed.

Azelius wakes up and then rises from his bed, yawning with arms outstretched while sitting up. He rubs his eyes and gets up out of the bed. In his left corner is his bag and spare clothing, the latter of which he puts on. Afterward, he opens his bag and within it is his gauntlet, which long became a trademark of his in some circles. He takes it and wears the weapon on his left hand, then closes the bag, taking it with him as he gets out of his room. Azelius runs downstairs and finds the inn empty. At first, he's somewhat puzzled, but a moment later he merely shrugs without giving it a second thought, and bolts out through the exit door. Now outside, he witnesses several panicking people running towards him. Azelius avoids the screaming masses with well-timed sidesteps, then moves towards the direction they are fleeing from while easily moving through the tide of people.

After running his way past the crowd, Azelius finally sees what the big deal is. A dead body lying on the ground, its blood staining the pavement. A man, presumably the culprit, threatening a black haired woman at swordpoint, the tip of his blade almost caressing her throat. Six others are gathered around the area as well, five of them confronting the murderer and the other blissfully unaware of the scene before him. They certainly have this handled, he thinks, but he isn't about to back away from the show just yet. Azelius can't afford to pass up on morning entertainment.

A loud guffaw could be heard as another pint of mead was passed down. The loud voice of the tavern's owner traveling throughout the entire building. "Ohoho, We heard this story the last time Jythrel!" He exclaimed in a cheerful manner. "Anymore of the same ones and we might think you aren't an adventurer at all!" The point was valid, Jythrel had been staying within the same area for about a week now, hoping to find something of an adventure to be had.

"And what of it, a good story must be retold!" Jythrel responded happily, admittedly he was tipsy and for an old man he was quite capable of holding his drink, had he not been drinking way past the late hours. "As I was saying, the crafty gentlemen was definitely crafty, making that cheap bottle of wine sound like it had been drafted by angels and been given the intoxicating powers of a succubus! Oh he made few mistakes surely he must be very well off with how lyrical his voice sounded, and so this con man tried to con me. Alas, I have traveled too far and too wide to be caught in such a simple trick, to a fault though, as my competitive side was brought out. I played this conman you see and as crafty as a fox he may be, he was not wise enough to check the gold I had given him. I played the sly con by his own rules and gave him false gold!"

Jythrel smiled and burst out laughing, others doing much the same. One could most certainly say that Jythrel's cheerful morning spirit was what kept the party going even into the morning such as was today. "Ah yes I drank the bottle of wine to the con himself, I wished him all the best luck. I often ponder how infuriated he must have been and I secretly get excited to one day come across him again. Perhaps he shall be much craftier than before. In any case gentlemen It is best that I make my leave, I have a market to browse, Perhaps I will find something interesting along the way. Perhaps adventure awaits!" He spoke with a cheerful smile and made his way to leave. He passed a particularly beautiful women and stopped taking her hand into his and kissing it with as much suave grace as the old man could muster, winking at her before departing from the musty tavern.

As the morning rays shone down on him, Jythrel squinted so he could adjust from the drastic change of the dark tavern to the brightness of the outside. The streets were dusted dry dirt and he smiled. He preferred the roads of the cheaper districts of cities; They matched the calming forest roads from the travel he was accustomed to, and the various grubby buildings reminded him that even within cities a person has their own little adventure. He made his way to the market district nodding politely to those he passed sometimes offering to help people as he saw fit. Often they were menial tasks such as helping to carry a bucket of water here to there or just providing a second hand to deal with the occasional man looking for trouble in any case it was only a half hour journey to his destination and he made it in time to at least browse the mass amount of stalls.

Or so he thought, as quickly as he had arrived a commotion had already started, people were fleeing in the opposite direction screaming out murderer and such simple minded nonsense, off course, all Jythrel was heard was head in this direction, adventure awaits. Jythrel quickened his step and a mere five minute walk had him in the center of the market. There were others and surprisingly most were female. and it was quickly evident what the commotion was about, for one man laid dead at the feet of another the second man was most certainly malicious as he had a blade around to a more than attractive female, dangerously close to cutting the girl's neck.

Jythrel is not one to let things be as they may, especially with beautiful women on the line and immediately passed through people his large stature couldn't have been hard to miss but once he had made his way to the blind side of the man, Jythrel charged. once he was in range he made a grab for the sword arm, pulling with all his might away from the women intending for the blade to at least release from her neck if only for a moment. This was of course a grave mistake as even if he was unsuccessful in his attempt his body was in the direct firing line of a rather young woman's crossbow bolts. If he did manage to free the women, Jythrel had every intention to use his spare hand to strike at the man's temple. Where Jythrel has no qualms about violence. He did have a problem with unjust treatment of those beautiful bodies that got his loins going.

I like it when people flee for their lives. When they do, I can give them a small amount of respect. While they flee, the only thing they have on their minds is saving their own hide. They don't think of their gods...until they find a place to hide. Then they become fools.

These were the thoughts of Beatrice Fendbane as she watched a mass of people running away. Clad in armor, she leans her back on a building wall, making way for them so she could observe them. She's seen their expression of fear in the past. She had created it before, so it was easy to recognize. They are, at the moment, afraid of a killer. They're panicked running indicates a public murder.

Someone wants attention.

That is the first thing she would think. Most of the time this would be the case. A fool with an unbearably mundane life would momentarily fall into insanity and do something like this. If it wasn't a person like that, then more of these fleeing people would be dead, or dying, or pursued by the killer.

Or maybe this person is just a bad assassin.

She chuckles at the thought. No one would be that stupid.

It doesn't matter anyway. This was a good time to take her leave from this city. With a crowd this large, the guards would have to focus on the cause of their fear. It lowers the chance of any of them stopping her as she leaves.

Maybe I'm just being paranoid. My reputation isn't that big.

At least she hopes it isn't. She can't stand being locked up in some sort of prison or dungeon again. Break outs are tedious, and finding her equipment made it even more so.

Beatrice dismisses the previous thoughts. All she wants to do right now is leave. She gets up and heads for in the direction opposite of the crowd. When she arrives at the scene, however, she finds a rather large group of people gathered. All of them were focused on two people. A woman and a man who held a blade to her throat.

For a small moment, she just watches them...

Defeat and death aren't necessarily synonymous. You can be defeated without dying, and you can die without being defeated. Celosia was determined to be the latter.

Despite the current predicament she was in, she looked straight at Dhoulen, her eyes boring into the deep, dark abyss of his own. She couldn't find an ounce of warmth within them, instead finding cold amusement, with his lips twisted upwards into a smirk. It was the look of a predator who had cornered it's prey, toying with it before it's inevitable death. The tip of the sword caressed her throat, and even though it barely grazed the actual skin, Celosia felt like she could barely breathe, the pressure upon her throat seeming to be much greater than it really is.

"You there! Put the woman down!"

"I....I... do not know what to say here, but please release the woman so that this situation may be resolved peacefully."

"Unhand her this instant, or face the consequences!"

"Yes. Let her go. It would be a shaaaame if something were to happen to you."

"MY MONEY!"

The chorus of unfamiliar voices broke the stare of the duo as they shifted their gaze to look upon the spectators and the potential rescuers that have gathered. It was a very unlikely group of people that stood before them, but Celosia barely had time to process that thought. In response to the arrows flying towards them, Dhoulen moved quickly, his movements being blurred to the naked eye.

As soon as an extremely large man charged at the man and his hostage, Dhoulen whipped his sword away from Celosia's neck, swiping it in the general direction of the large man and the petite girl that have fired off the arrows. Using a powerful Etra known as Aero Guardian, curtain of wind blew their way into existence, enveloping Celosia and Dhoulen within the "eye of the storm" and moving outwards to blow away any projectiles, objects, and people in the near vicinity. The area surrounding the powerful attacker would experience powerful winds threatening to knock them off of their feet. The aim of the Etra wasn't an offensive one, instead it was a defensive action, effectively driving people, weapons, and objects away from the user for as long as the wind lasted.

While the powerful gusts swept upon the gaggle of people, Dhoulen winked at Celosia mischievously. "Well well well my lady, it seems that we have company. I'll leave you to your little friends."

"W-why don't you just kill me..." Celosia hissed under her breath, the slight quaver in her voice exposing the fear she had felt.

"You're insignificant and unimportant." He replied with a nonchalant shrug, "I'm only interested in the people that matter. Besides, you amuse me. You honestly thought that you could kill me?" The murderer threw his head back in laughter as Celosia once again aimed a stab at his midsection. He easily grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back, as Celosia yelped in pain. "You've got a long way to go."

The winds were dying down as this happened, and before they dispelled completely, Dhoulen shoved Celosia forward. She dived towards the ground ungracefully, landing hard on the upper half of her body. Jarring pain rang through the poor girl, resulting in scrapes on her fair face, and bruises along her midsection. She pushed herself to a sitting position while grimacing in pain.

Dhoulen offered Celosia a small bow. "And now ladies and gentlemen, I bid you adieu." With that, a blinding flash enveloped him, and by the time Celosia's eyes could see again, he had disappeared, the only trace of his appearance being the dead body he had left behind.

Somebody charged forward and another shot at the mysterious man. In response, the man whipped his sword around, away from his captive’s throat and toward his new enemies. This created a strong gust of wind that circulated around him, knocking back anyone in the vicinity, including Atalee. The young woman tried to hold her ground at first, but after a couple seconds, her feet slipped and she tumbled backwards. A combination of quick thinking and lightning fast reflexes allowed her to catch herself as she toppled over. She planted her palms flatly on the ground as she flipped around through the air, performing a backwards flip that ricocheted her into a standing position a safe distance away from the large man’s elemental etra.

As the spell died down, the man shoved his captive forward. She dived toward the ground, landing hard. Although suffering a few scraps, she appeared okay and soon pushed herself up into a sitting position. The man, meanwhile, offered a bow, saying goodbye to everybody present, and disappearing in a blinding flash. Atalee wondered to herself who this man what and what he wanted. What about the man he killed? Who was he, and why did the other man kill him? More pressingly, what about the woman that he was about to kill? Who was she, and how did they know each other? Though the sister was curious, she decided that it would be best to focus on the present and see if the woman was okay.

When the man disappeared, Atalee rushed over to the woman and kneeled down beside her. She spoke in her typical thick accent, “Are you okay? You are not hurt badly, are you?”

Soon several others came around Leon, also offering their help to the endangered girl. One girl choose to try to shoot the man, but another, beefy man charged the assailant directly before the women's bolt could reach it's mark. It was then that a sudden strong gust of one threatened to knock Leon over; it was clearly an Etra, and was probably employed by the women's attacker to interrupt his crowd of onlookers. Leon dug his heels into the ground and leaned on one of his swords, trying his best to keep upright in the strong gust. The strong wind quickly passed and Leon had succeeded in remaining upright. He saw a girl near him that fell over quickly regain her composure and rush to the hostage's side. Leon, quite frankly, was slightly disappointed that he wasn't the first to help the damsel in distress. Leon quickly ran over to the pair, leaning over the released hostage. The women who came to help had a thick accent and was blonde haired. She asked if the other was alright. "Yeah, are you alright?" He said, following up with the blonde women's question. "Who was that man? Why did he attack you?"

As both the arrows and the stranger close in on their target, the sword-wielding man swings his blade in the general direction of his assailants and unleashes a strong gust of wind that surrounds him, knocking back anyone within his vicinity. Azelius is caught off-guard and is sent flying up into the air and tumbling downward. However, he quickly regains his balance and rights his body at just the proper angle during the last moment, and lands on his feet without any issue. He glances again at the two centers of attention. The young woman attempted to stab at her enemy, but the man simply grabs her arm and twists it behind her back, then shoves her down. A rather pitiful sight, to be sure. The man then disappeared in a flash of light, leaving the girl to eat pavement.

Azelius just sighs and turns away to leave the scene and the group gathered there. He walks away from it all, disappointed in the sheer boredom of the event. Excitement must be sought elsewhere, it would seem.

"How... eventful."

Ava was unmoved from where she had fired. Her hair had been barely moved by the gale, a huge, back scorpion shielded her from the wind with its shell, deployed and enlarged in an instant of danger. Removing her hand from the puppets abdomen, it shrunk back down to a more reasonable size, about that of a large dog. Ava wasn't about to put it away just yet, not without knowing where that man had gone, and most certainly not with so many witnesses around that might prove to be a problem.

The man's... hostage? Next victim? Daughter? Maybe it was a love gone wrong? It was unlikely, but not implausible. Well, whatever the girl was to him, it seemed that she was fine, for better of for worse. Ava really couldn't have cared less about some girl's living or dying. Pulling back the strings connecting to the two wayward arrows, Ava reloaded them back into her hidden crossbows. Even though she had her puppet, she felt uneasy without the backup weaponry.

With only a cursory glance at the girl, Ava spun around, grinding the remains of a white ornate teacup to dust beneath her foot, and walked away. She wasn't one for social gatherings, unless of course it was under her circumstances. The gray girl paused, almost entirely swallowed by the shadows of a side alley. What was she in this city for? Ava continued walking away.

"Thank you so much, sir, for your kindness. Please, let me pay you for the extra night." Anneka reached for the small bag she carried on her belt where she stored her money and searched, fingers grasping at empty air, vain hope that a few gold pieces would materialize. No, she had run out of money a long time ago. She had been running on luck and the currency of good deeds for the past few days, and miraculously, things seemed to fall into place when you wished hard enough. That couldn't be true, Anneka knew, but she believed that when you do good, good will be done to you, and so far, her life had been a living testament to that. So far, anyway.

"No, no, it was my pleasure, after you helped us clean so late into the night. Please, accept it was a gift." Old Man Keller bowed shortly and smiled, surprising Anneka. He had been rather curt the past few days, short temper and all. See, people were good to you if you were good to them.

"If you insist!" she said, shrugging her shoulders happily. She hoisted her backpack, worn out from long years of travel, over her back and embraced Old Man Keller. Caught off guard, he froze and stiffened, to which Anneka quickly jumped back. Oops, maybe that had been too far. She smiled apologetically and waved her hand instead. "Take care of yourself," she said politely, bending her head in a show of respect before she turned and exited the inn. She had stayed at this particular lodging for longer than usual: an entirety of five days. She wanted to travel and explore, and Anneka firmly believed that she couldn't do that without relocating often. Of course, it made for a rather large dent in her coin bag after a single month, but she always improvised. Somehow, things fell into place if she tried hard enough. She'd spent her fair share having to sleep in abandoned barns, but either way, Anneka made do. Surprisingly, and luckily, she was a quick learner and an easy adapter, adjusting to her surroundings like slipping into a new nightgown.

It was time to start the process all over again, each time different than the rest. She adjusted the strap as she walked calmly on, surveying the crowd today and deciding to enter the marketplace. She didn't have any money on her, but it certainly couldn't hurt to examine today's merchandise. Maybe she'd even find a booth to buy a few of her belongings, although Anneka truthfully didn't know what she would sell. She would have to take on more odd jobs on her way to the next village. Oh, but that dress was rather fetching... and the jewelry, exquisite. And the daggers were awfully shiny... Engrossed in the day's plethora of offerings, Anneka wandered deeper and deeper into the marketplace, completely unaware of where exactly she was going. Times like these always reminded her of home: gazing upon beautiful items she would have gladly bought without a moment's hesitation. But she had learned, and surprisingly, had proved to be more adept at trading than she had expected.

An abrupt series of shouts jostled her out of her absorbed mindset, and without thinking, Anneka began to run towards the sound. By the time she got there, though, things seemed to have settled down - or at least, the main source of conflict was clearly over. A girl was sitting on the ground, people were looking at her in concern, and things were awfully confusing. A familiar thrill of excitement chilled her blood, the same sensation that overcame her when she was on the brink of a new adventure. She ignored it, however, in favor of rushing before the girl, kneeling in front of her and joining two others. Impulsively, she put a hand on the stranger's knee and furrowed her brows in concern. "What happened?" she asked, looking up at the other people who had obviously come to her aid. "What happened?" she repeated before anyone had the chance to answer, her anger rising and seeping through her voice.

Maintaining her stance and her tight hold on Principale's grip, Joscelin glanced around with only her eyes as an array of colorful characters continued to congregate on the man and his captive. It seemed she was far from the only one in this city that had an unhealthy tendency to run in the opposite direction of large crowds of screaming people. her internal musings were interrupted as the action suddenly seemed to pick up, a girl that looked somehow even younger than her firing two crossbow bolts at the same time that an absolutely massive man suddenly charged at the villain that was the object of everyone's attention. His attention having been shifted away from his captive, Joscelin watched as he suddenly swung his blade away from the woman in his grasp, using it to summon a wall of wind around himself, which pushed outward to send every threat to himself flying away.

Wow, that's a powerful looking magic Etra! Was the short, odd thought that ran through her mind a fraction of a second before the wall of wind swept her off her feet and sent her flying back a good few yards, causing her to tumble end-over-end until she finally came to a halt in a dazed sitting position, her legs splayed out on the ground in front of her. Something about the impact of the magical wind had caused a strange, slightly tickly sensation to well up in the pit of her stomach, but just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Trying to shake away her sudden dizziness and ignore the few scrapes and bruises that her little tumble had rewarded her with, she looked over and saw that the man was gone, but his captive was not. Already she could see the majority of the people that had gathered moving to check on her, while a few others seemed to do the opposite and begin walking away. Fully intending to join the former group, Joscelin stood and quickly stretched out her back, groaning to herself as a few of her jostled vertebrae popped back into their proper positions.

With her less-than-swift recovery completed, Joscelin finally made her way over to the small group that was gathering around the woman, idly patting away some of the dirt that had gotten on her during the tumble. "Jeez... I guess that's one way to make an exit..." She muttered to herself just as she entered into earshot of the others, remaining standing as she looked them over now that she actually had the chance to. "Is everyone alright?" She asked them, glancing over at the corpse still laying on the ground and grimacing slightly. "Well... except for... you know..."