Ionathan did not know whether to be confused or angry, he thought at the time that it would be a good idea to at least try to sound uncompromising when delivering his authoritative line but all the confidence that he had just moments ago was destroyed when a man who looked like he had come straight out of myth gave Ionathan a stare that instantly froze him on the spot fortunately another member of the group distracted Ionathan.
"We're gonna go slay a dragon"
Ionathan, looked at the man, did he have a third eye? Ionathan thought of asking by then scolded himself for even thinking that, it would be too rude to say that to him, it might be a sensitive subject.
"Why? Does the king's men want in?"
The snide comment brought Ionathan back to earth and through listening a bit more to the rather heated conversation Ionathan learnt that the group was deciding on whether or not to try to kill a dragon which is in possession of an item that "could" stop the incursions, but where did that leave him? he could try to stop the group from going but if the item could stop the demons then Waeldeshore would be saved, plus if he did try to stop them they could easily kill him, 'no' and with that Ionathan decided that it was worth the risk.
"You each have a half hour to get your shit together and then we leave."
Those words snapped Ionathan back from his thoughts he looked at the lady walking away 'so she must have some authority in the group I'll ask her then'
He straightened his back and checked his mail
'For Waeldeshore'
He let the lady answer the question of the little gnome that, rather awkwardly sprinted after her when she left, it looked like it was a bad time to do this but he guess this is better than just stalking them for all of their adventure, he then cleared his throat and said "sorry for intruding my lady but my orders are to accompany this group of yours if you like I can show you my letter of authority straight from the guard captain, oh and I'm afraid I cannot take no for an answer” Ionathan put his hand on his chest and did a semi-bow “at your command my lady”
@The Harbinger of Ferocity @Letter Bee @The Fated Fallen @Belwicket @IcePezz @boomlover @KazeXDZ

Somewhere very far away ...

Jeltheor paced back and forth in his tower. He'd received news from 3 different people reporting on the situation, and even himself had popped in to try and move things along. In disguise of course, but nothing seemed to be enough. And he hadn't heard from or seen the demons in a couple of days.

"They made such a mess", he scowled "and couldn't even take down a simple town. Gods, I must truly be dammed to be surrounded by such incompetence."

The dark room remained quiet, save for the many thoughts racing through his mind, and the pitter patter of his boots on the cold stone floor as he paced back and forth.

The artifact, that precious stone, was his only hope to taking full control and wiping them all out. "I can only hope that the group reaches the mountains soon, and finds what I need."

His thoughts paused for a moment... and then he moved to his spell book. He murmured quietly, his hands rolling over themselves over and over again until suddenly- it was as if he summoned a shadow from the pages. He threw his hands in front of him, his fingers wide. And the shadow rushed out of the tower as if a strong wind swept it away.

"Keep a weary eye on the witchling. She could be trouble. But attach yourself to the one with the odd sword that talks. Keep an eye on them, help them up the mountain if need be. But make sure they keep to the quest I gave them.". His words were to the shadow that quickly crept from his room.

"I will have my way... I will have my revenge"
@boomlover



Genevieve stood off to the side, letting the shadows cast by the morning sun on the gables of the nearby building hide her presence from those around her. It was all happened just as predicted, just as her tomes had promised her.

One thing it didn't take into account were the many different personalities she would have to deal with in regards to the quest.

No doubt they were off to retrieve the artifact. She had to warn them. She needed more time. As unlikely as that may happen, she needed to try. If only she could get them to help her. "But can they even be trusted", she murmured to herself.

Her eyes wandered over Isabeau. "I certainly don't trust that one", she continued with her thoughts, "but maybe that one..." She eyed Tirarrian, curiosity sparked. "Maybe...just maybe we're not doomed yet."

Durin and Kayleth stood still, watching the events of the meeting pass. People getting angry, making lots of speeches, physically assaulting and insulting one another before disbanding. Throughout this, their expressions remained more or less the same. For Durin, it was stern irascibility and Kayleth maintained a cool, but vaguely interested expression. Durin dropped the bag he was holding onto and sat down against the wall of the hotel. Everyone should have arrived ready to leave in the first place. Now he had to wait around for half an hour with only the elf for company.

Kayleth stood beside Durin, graceful as ever.

"So what do you think?" she asked, looking down at the sitting dwarf.

"Can't trust the lot of 'em. Can't control their own tongues or tempers. Going to get the lot of us killed. An' I'm pretty sure most of them be magic users." During replied as he crossed his arms.

"So you're still planning to go with them." Kayleth sighed, and pulled her dagger from her hip, looking over it in the daylight. "A lack of control and a constant urge to act is something that all the younger races possess. Perhaps if they manage to survive they will learn to outgrow such self-destructive tendencies."

Durin harumphed in reply.

Isabeau merely opened her mouth to respond to the hin. Unfortunately she wasn't able to get anything other than the word "Smithy" out before she was bombarded by two strangers.

The first to approach her was a young man, dark eyes, dark hair... she couldn't see much more through the anger that was slowly disolving.

"I've been sent here to watch you, and perhaps help you!"

She rolled her shoulders back slowly as the man proceeded to ask what they were going to do. In all honesty, she couldn't much be bothered with the boy or with his questions. She loosed a breath and as she was about to answer, another pair of footsteps came prodding up.

This one wore a guards uniform, had a bit more tact, but also mentioned something about the captain of the guard giving him orders.

She glanced back at Tirarrian and suddenly chuckled. "It seems we have attracted the guards attention", she smirked then returned her attention to the two men.

"I'm no one of importance, and certainly not the leader of this ... rabble. So you wouldn't be at my command. I'm headed to the smithy to sharpen up my weapons and then the group of us should be heading up the mountain. Join if you like ... or if you must, it makes no difference to me. Just don't get in my way. I'm sure the others can fill you in on the rest. We leave soon, so be ready."

And just like that, she was on her way once more, the weight of anger a little less on her shoulders, and even less as she continued on.

@Letter Bee @Jon Y @The Fated Fallen

Ioannes/Yayha observed Isabeau as she walked to the smithy, the soldier walking beside her from a safe distance. From his first few glances alone, he can see that the woman was both tempramental and skilled, not a medium to heavy fighter like him, but light combat was not to be underestimated, either, especially not when combined with the brimming rage that was evident in the woman's...everything.

The Gnome, meanwhile, was someone after his own heart, weapons-wise, although a bit lacking in melee options. She also had an apochetary's satchel; perhaps she was a healer?

Also, there was the Half-Elven Guard, who seemed to be the first person sent by the Guard Captain of the town to watch over the group. He seemed like a true soldier more than a guard; perhaps a veteran of the wars? Either way, Ioannes/Yahya decided to treat him with the respect and deference due to a fellow man of arms, although it was his private belief that if it came to a spar, he would be able to beat the Half-Elf, which tied to another personal belief; that the Giray Mamluks were the best soldiers in the world; individual warriors can be better, but a troop of Giray Mamluks acting in concert were powerful.

Either way, it was time to introduce himself, especially as the auburn-haired woman was getting less angry.

"I'll be going to the smithy too; secure a contract to get more bolts for my crossbow," he tapped the aforementioned weapon, before deciding to introduce himself.

"Anyway, my name is Ioannes, a Hellene," Hellenes being the term for people from the Kingdom of Hellas, which was Ioannes' birth parents' original home. "I came to help, as I stated before."

The first part was a technical truth, the second was sincere.

@The Harbinger of Ferocity, @Belwicket, @Jon Y, @The Fated Fallen, @Dragoknighte, @boomlover, @KazeXDZ, @IcePezz.

When Isabeau Approached him Robert had the sensation to punch here in the face. He had that feeling for a while now and found this the perfect time to do so. Then he looked into her eye's. They where two pools of fury And they made Robert scared as all hell. Something seemed wrong with them. Something very very wrong. And while Robert was petrified Isabeau was screaming at him. "Does it fucking look like this group wants to throw away their lives for gold?! Do you think, that after fighting the demon we fought last night, we want to parade off on some fool's errand to fight a dragon for gold and glory? Oh, that's right - you have no fucking clue as to what dangers nearly ran this town into the ground, you fumbled around the bar that night like a drunken idiot and expected to be applauded for killing a demon that 3 of us nearly got ourselves killed taking down."

Robert didn't react he always reacts. No sarcastic remark no laughing nothing. He felt like he was gonna throw up. Isabeau had already turned her attention to the group. Robert almost did not hear a thing. Only something about half an hour. She then left taking Tirarrian with here. He was still recovering from the shock when his sword said." I love that women."" Sigh if only i could turn you of."The sword laughed." Yep sadly for you you cant." Robert then mumbled something about buying some food supplies and headed of to the market. His sword mocking him all the way.

@The Harbinger of Ferocity,@Belwicket,@jon Y,@The Fated Fallen,@Dragoknighte,@Letter Bee,@KazeXDZ,@IcePezz.

The short time away from one's own thoughts proved to be the period of time the child of the Lioness needed to place consideration in options and weigh the nature of the situation at hand. All of these things had become far less than ideal, for the simple plan of approach he held initially was no longer going to be an option. These mere mortal men were happy enough, barring a few exceptions as the green eyed of darkness and the reluctant gnome, in addition to the wayward dwarf, to throw their lives away upon some dragon errand. This posed no issue, in that there was no true loss to be had - the marked man and the sword bearer both no friend of the savage aspect - but it did strike as unnecessary.

Two dragons to guard but one relic, not terribly far from the ruins of the city that was Waeldeshore? A relic no less required to thwart the demonic presence? "The Red" did not trust the words of these "adventurers" of the mortal realm in the slightest to succeed in this matter as some seemed so sure in. Their heart, body and mind upon the matter, no less their spirit, were in the wrong place. It began to draw wonder to his thought if they had ever laid eyes upon a demon before, let alone met one in battle before this all transpired - before this city was left in part to rubble and ash.

While the wildman sought his answers within through spiritual wisdom, his bestial stature found itself in the shadow of what was one of the city's gates; now no more than great sundered stone heaped upon one another and splintered wood. Abandoned as it was, no man able to enter or leave through it, this place was quiet and mostly devoid of onlookers. This was the reason he chose it, for so close was it as a point to the land beyond, and so far was it from the city here.

Content in acceptance that there proved to be little other option, "The Red" adjusted the thick pelt of the hide breastplate, working his soul-touched hands to secure and tighten it down. From breast to boots, he ensured every stretch of his humble leather armor and its primal adornments were readied, ending it all upon the hilt of the bronzed scimitar.

It was time to return to the green eyed woman.

Rubbing the massive claw strung across his throat, the savage nodded before turning from the gate.

@The Fated Fallen@IcePezz

Tirrarian assessed the people who had decided to follow her and Izzy. First of all the guardsman, a half-elf who walked everywhere in a uniform style, straight-back and even stride. Tirrarian would wager good coin he had been in an army at some stage, which his spear and shield held testament to. Maybe some kind of levy, she thought, Which would make sense, most levies with no commitments to go home to generally go into basic guard positions after the war. Of all the things she thought about his appearance she though even more about the kind of person he was. Tirrarian had no doubt she wasn't the only criminal in their little band of misfits, but she wondered which ones he knew about.

Next to show up was some sort of sellsword? No, sellswords didn't often carry flintlocks. Tirrarian had seen the weapon before, and definitely heard of it but that didn't make them any less rare around these parts. A foreigner then? His eyes darted around, the hallmark of a man who did not belong. His lack of overt response at the guard marked him as not a criminal, or at least not one who's face was known. He could just be a good card player. She reflected on her own trained lack of reaction to the guardsman.

"I'll be going to the smithy too; secure a contract to get more bolts for my crossbow," he tapped the aforementioned weapon, which was strapped to his back and far lighter than Tirrarian's own. He probably never relied on it, she had seen a thousand faces using similar light crossbows and hardly touching them other than in very specific circumstances

"Anyway, my name is Ioannes, a Hellene," Definitely foreign. Tirrarian had heard of the place, but little more. Perhaps Ioannes could tell stories of his home? "I came to help, as I stated before."

Tirarrian smiled at him, and said "If you want bolts for your crossbow, you should probably find a fletchers. A blacksmith won't be of much help to you." Most people who relied on their ranged weapons learnt how to craft their own ammunition, which confirmed her assumption Ioannes never relied on it. "If you are really desperate, I could fletch some for you, though I admit I am far from the best. I would also ask how you spent your last lot, and why you didn't leave home with enough." Perhaps he would tell her how much he really relied on his weapon

"Ah!" responded Ioannes to the Gnome, "what I meant was, I wanted to secure a contract to get more bolts for when I come back from the trip, and find myself having used up all of them. As for the Smithy, my thoughts were that Blacksmith and Fletchers share the same shops in my own land..." he rubbed the back of his head.

"Actually, I'll admit it; I use my guns; both of them, more than my crossbow," and indeed, the guns looked as though they were well-used and well-maintained. Ioannes can see that the Gnome was trying to pry further, fishing for information. Right now, however, this prying was relatively light, and it didn't seem like his true identity was being found out. "Speaking of Guns, I noticed you have bombs, but not a flintlock. Are those really that expensive outside of Hellas?" And Giray, but best not to mention the nation.

"Anyway," Ioannes had a wide smile, "what's your name?" Best to change the subject.

@The Harbinger of Ferocity, @Belwicket, @Jon Y, @The Fated Fallen, @Dragoknighte, @boomlover, @KazeXDZ, @IcePezz.

She glanced behind her briefly, and eyed the three that seemed to be following her. Tirarrian was engaged in a conversation with one, and the guard lingered near.

"Oh, and I'm afraid I cannot take no for an answer", his words continued to roll around in her mind. Apparently they had done enough to gain the aid of the guard, but was it merely to keep an eye on them? She started to ask herself again why she was doing this. She grumbled quietly with fruatration.

Finally making it to the smithy, it seemed to be one of the few places still in tact, however no one was around. Abandoned ... just great.

Fortunately, it wasn't such a huge defeat. Her axe could do with a bit of maintenance, but she chose this place as more of a distraction, and an excuse to get away.

Her gaze drifted over the three once more. There was a subtle hint of wariness and vulnerability in her eyes, for just a moment and she let out a heavy sigh. Why couldn't anything go her way, just once...

It was too awkward to make conversation with the guard, and so she quickly turned away from the three.

Instead, she moved towards one of the nearby shops that seemed to be open and inspected their many goods.

They mostly carried small weapons of various types, a few bandages and healing salves. They even carried rations. The intention was to spend only a few moments bartering for the various things she'd need for her journey then return to the tavern for anyone else that would be taking the trip with her.

@Jon Y @The Fated Fallen @Letter Bee

"Ah!" Ioannes responded to her question, "what I meant was, I wanted to secure a contract to get more bolts for when I come back from the trip, and find myself having used up all of them. As for the Smithy, my thoughts were that Blacksmith and Fletchers share the same shops in my own land..." he rubbed the back of his head, a gesture that made it seem like an honest mistake rather than a lie. Like he would gain anything through lying anyway

"Actually, I'll admit it; I use my guns; both of them, more than my crossbow," Ah, that makes sense. "Speaking of Guns, I noticed you have bombs, but not a flintlock. Are those really that expensive outside of Hellas?"

She replied "Flintlocks aren't extremely expensive here, but you still need them custom made. As a result they're fairly rare, so gunpowder pretty much has to be self made, which is not a pleasant process." Not only that, but it narrows down the suspects for a murder. "I use a crossbow because it is more versatile, and far more accurate for a trained eye."

"Anyway," Ioannes started smiling for some reason, "what's your name?"

"Tirrarian Smooth-Tongue," She glanced back at the guard, confident he hadn't heard

They reached the smithy, which was remIarkebly intact. Izzy took a quick look into the door and sighed, her elegant form collapsing on itself for the briefest moment, but she quickly regained posture and headed towards some nearby shops. Tirrarian turned towards Ioannes.

"So what do you do for a living? Few professions require you to be so heavily armed"

@IcePezz@Letter Bee@Jon Y

Grhesus was once again overloaded with information and work, and Zargon was likely due to check up on him five minutes ago.

Between recent news of Sashaz beginning a path of conquest in the mortal realm, recent losses in factional support to power-hungry demon lords, rumors of two angels wandering close to the main operation, and the failure of the search operation for the remaining spiritual energies of Aezophyl, Grhesus was worn out and regretting for the 1000th time ever putting himself under the employ of Zargon.

I do every damn thing around here and my vacation is pushed back another five years. Ripoff.

He leaned back in a large, specialized demonic chair, spreading a variety of appendages. He rarely took human form and hadn't been in his energy form for years. He found it more comfortable to stay in his traditional form - and four arms instead of two certainly helped. He gazed at the variety of items scattered across a big, dark oak wood table before him in his 'room' - more like a dungeon - with growing distaste. A few rusty swords, various spent cups of communication material, and a bone that he was usually rather fond of seemingly glared back at him.

"And so this is the third time this week I come upon you leaning back and doing nothing..."

"You always wait until I lean back.." he muttered as he spun his chair around. He almost completely missed Zargon.

While Zargon usually donned ominous robes of some undoubtedly important demonic meaning, he was dressed to look almost... normal. Human. His eyes, however, and his voice, were the giveaways. At his side was a sword with a black hilt, sheathed in a worn scabbard, which in and of itself had a sort of odd radiance to it.

"Off on a trip, are we?" Grhesus tried to lighten the atmosphere; it always seemed to drop a few degrees in temperature but make up for it in tension when Zargon walked in.

"Yes, I think I'll be going to Waeldeshore." He paused to let that sink in.

"Er... why? Don't you have that orb thing that you use to see everything?" Zargon couldn't be up to any good.

"Ah, the Orb. I see much with it, yet I can't quite accomplish the next step with it alone. It is time to personally involve myself in these affairs."

His voice lightened up considerably, though it had the familiar undertone, and he spoke as though talking about the weather.

"Their group has grown large, and possibly too large for our interests to be well protected. I intend to spread rumor of the recent efforts of Sashaz, along with hints of her possibly targeting Waeldeshore next. Apocalypse always sets people on the move. I will attempt to find out their plans at a distance and deploy Craxis when the time is appropriate, which is where you come in. Set him up to deploy the Hidden when I need to, which will likely be in the next few days."

"He's been sitting around for weeks without orders, so I reckon he won't mind that bit of news."

"Indeed."

Zargon's voice became more serious.

"Their group is not ordinary. They have grown into a potential threat. That is why I will learn more about them... but on to other matters. Your report?"

There drops the temperature again.

"Ah... not so great. Chandon's been pestering Scoriellus, who's been pestering me about that alliance offer. Rokyen's been gaining some ground in the recruitment centers. And I've heard from our field scouts that there's been... some of them around."

"The angels?"

Grhesus nodded.

"Not organized, I assume?"

We'd be obliterated if they were. "No, just a few lingering energies. Might be scouts or lost fallen. I'll try and call in Uridial, he's usually effective on this sort of thing."

"Do so. The Host cannot know of the plan until it is too late. Although I very seriously doubt they are still organized..."

Grhesus only nodded. He hoped this would end soon.

"Disappointing circumstances, but expected. You are in command here until I return. If Jeltheor comes to pester about Aezophyl's performance, give him the usual. I'll kill him soon enough, but he's not one we need as an enemy at this juncture."

On that note, Zargon turned and walked towards the fireplace, where a forming portal was already awaiting his departure. He turned at the last second.

"Don't worry about the recruitment. Artholath has given me interesting information regarding his home dimension which may render the need of recruitment nonexistent..."

Grhesus, who had continuously leaned forward more and tensed up during the conversation, slumped back with a sigh after Zargon vanished, and his portal behind him. If that damn Jeltheor comes in to pester me about Aezophyl I'll give him something to complain about...

---

A portal opened in the countryside just outside Waeldeshore. A man stepped out, looking as though he could have come from the center of town, and began walking towards the quiet eastern gate.

As the thing the feral practitioner revered, "The Red" had a tendency to seemingly appear and disappear at whim; an elusiveness to him that carried with going unobserved for any time, not by magic but by the talent of observation and instinct. Far from difficult to see among the common folk as they desperately attempted to go about some semblance of normalcy in the wake of the dark assault on this morning, the man preferred to take the routes less traveled and reveal himself only in crossing. Were they alleys blocked by debris or by shady, loitering occupants, it made no difference and he stalked through them all the same in this manner, wholly unaccosted. Be them miscreants or the homeless, they clung closer to the remaining wood and stonework when he drew near - their eyes shining with a disposition of discomfort and unease.

From about a corner peered the muzzle of his hood; his fierce stare concealed beneath her embrace.

The lady of shadows seemingly led three more who walked a short ways behind her, of whom seemed to be enthralled in conversation and gesture... barring the guardsman, who merely kept an ever attentive eye on it all. In this time, she turned away from them in an air of irritation; the blacksmith's post abandoned, its forges cold, and its steel mostly pillaged. The front's owner, likely slain or missing in the attack, was nowhere to be seen. It was at this point the woman, with axe slung, drifted from sight and left the three to themselves.

The gnome, the guardsman and this "Hellene" had come to a rest - gesturing forth and back toward their finer, more complicated weaponry. Their behavior seemed to compare the two - the crossbow to the flintlock weapons - but "The Red" only pondered as to why. Both things were unwieldy, heavy and complicated, prone to malfunction and of unusual rarity. Either way, the conversation kept them preoccupied and at least temporarily unaware of their observer.

It did however, bring to mind "The Red" and his relationship with these exotic tools of conflict, to which he recalled were of ill reception. A mere man could be disarmed of any weapon he bore, even the aged scimitar the savage himself carried, but something that could not be so readily stripped was the weapon that was the body; that even the bare hand, lacking in the deadly refinement that was claws, could strike with such force that men fell prey to it. It was a quality that had to be honed, like any other, but proved versatile as any master of the mundane and magical martial arts could speak to, albeit these legendary men "The Red" knew not - just that they both shared the same understanding, albeit of vastly different approach.

Regardless, all seemed well enough and the time the woman had presented was limited.

Shifting slightly beneath his cowl, he removed himself from his concealment and proceeded down the muddied, still turned street. Despite his internal eagerness to be free of these confines of civilized men, this town, he carried himself as largely indifferent as he could, feigning disinterest to them. In doing so, he parted the street and kept pace toward the three - subconsciously placing his foot fall in those tracks already worn into the path.

He neared at last, coming to a rest but just outside arm's length of Ionathan, whilst listening to both Tirrarian and Ioannes with ears keened but of no verbal announcement that he had returned; he assumed the aura that came with him on a spiritual and psychological level, in addition to his actual physical presence, were more than enough.

@The Fated Fallen@IcePezz@Letter Bee@Jon Y

Ionathan could not believe his eyes, he hadn’t seen a musket since the war and Ionathan remembered their on the battlefield well.

They had just broken through the centre of the rival force when the 35th were met with a pike wall, with 3 ranks of pikes to get through Ionathan’s advance halted, but just then General Vance Stubbs sent musketeers to the front who relayed orders from Stubbs to charge when the muskets fired, at this point there was a gap between the opposing armies which made them in perfect range, with the first rank kneeling both ranks let loose a volley that sounded like thunder and the 35th charged, they broke through the already shattered pike wall and sent the pike men to flight. Although not many were killed, the muskets damage to morale as well as breaking formations made Ionathan respect the weapon for if it was not for their rarity Ionathan reckons that whole armies would be issued with muskets.

Ionathan continued to listen to the conversation, he found it odd that they could strike up a convocation so quickly he thought that since gnomes were nomads, that they would be quite anti-social but clearly that was not the case. They came to rest as the lady went off to a nearby market, this made Ionathan think of what he would need when they set of on this righteous quest. The savage that had cut Ionathan cold with a glare was now beside him, how long has he been with us? Ionathan thought, he gave the barbarian a respectful nod and notice a guard patrolling the market and called him over.

"Ionathan! Where have you been? The docks are getting worse by the day!" Richard was a good guardsmen but a bit slow when keeping up with current events "Good morning Richard I'm afraid that I'll need you to go to the barracks for me and requisition a Sarcina from the quartermaster, tell him it’s for my assignment and he'll understand".

When Richard walked off Ionathan turned to the savage and said "My good man, I beg your pardon if I interrupted your thoughts but I know nothing of this group, could you care to give me some information about these misfits?"

@The Fated Fallen @IcePezz @Letter Bee @The Harbinger of Ferocity

( ah crap i posted in the ic sorry !!!)

The East Side was relatively quiet. Indeed, most of the damage in the previous attack had been sustained in the west, and with many people occupied in rebuilding efforts, the east side was indeed almost abandoned compared to the usual bustle. One senior guard remained in a small wooden gatehouse, with most of the others on break or simply too bored to pay any attention. It was this guard that noticed a man walking across the path to the gatehouse.

Although he had every look of a villager, the guard was not afraid to admit to himself that the man had a suspicious... feel about him. He instinctually half reached for his sword, but let his hand rest. Damn it you, you've gone paranoid. He's done nothing wrong...

He was drawn to the suspicious man's less than natural eyes and the pitch black hilt that indicated a sword. Both gave him a tingly feeling inside; one he hadn't felt since staring into the empty eye holes in the skull of a flaming skeleton. I must be going mad...

Before he knew it, the man stood expectantly at the closed gate. It was later in the day, but the old guard realized that the gate should have been open. The other crews seemed less inclined to leave it open after the... incident.

Walking down the gatehouse stairs with a little effort - the stairs were steep, and chain mail and age didn't help - he pushed the gates open for the strange man. "Sorry 'bout that," he grunted after pushing both doors open.

The man gave him a smile which cheeped the guard more than anything and said, in a voice that made him feel the same tingling as before, "Thank you. Do you happen to know where the town center is?"

His voice is as weird as his eyes he thought, ignoring the fact that someone who looked local didn't even know where the center was. "Just down the street, left on the corner with the ole' cobblestone shop, and just down the road. Can' miss it." he said in his almost grunting mannor, still looking at the weird sword and trying not to look into the man's eyes.

"Thank you."

The guard shuddered again, grunted a response and made his way up to the gatehouse again. Paranoid, just paranoid...

---

Zargon noticed rather quickly the man's apprehension and became annoyed with himself as he walked down the road, slowly, not looking like he was going anywhere in particular. I'll need to work on my social skills. He noticed quick glances by some street walkers and felt others temporarily lingering at windows. Definitely not the subtle entrance I had in mind.

His plan was simple; it was only a matter of putting it into action. If all went well, and the red herring was properly set, the opposition would be split in two. He hoped his presence wouldn't be detected by hunters or the equivalent before schedule... and more importantly, to whom the presence belonged.

---

Grhesus felt, rather than heard, another demon behind him. He hadn't changed much, and the contents of his table hadn't shifted at all since Zargon had left.

"What is it this tim- Artholath?" He had spun in his favorite chair, expecting one of the Blood Knights to complain, and instead saw Artholath in his demonic form looking down at him.

"I'm a demon of few words, so I'll state this bluntly... do you like your boss?"

Grhesus thought about it a moment too long before replying, "Well, of course. He's fair, I get title and authority... and..." Damn, but I can't lie to save my life.

Artholath looked at him, and turned around. "Times are about to change, my friend. I've learned a good lot about this world. And there's more where I came from..." He walked away, leaving the slightly confused other demon on a cliffhanger.

Grhesus didn't know if that was a hint, offer, insult or some combination. He decided to ignore it and spun back around to his table of junk. Time to get Craxis out of his measly little hole again...

((Collab between Letter Bee and The Fated Fallen))

At Tirrarian's question, Ioannes felt his cover story grow shaky. How could he not have accounted for the technology gap between Giray and its neighbors? After all, his indoctrination had told him that the technology gap between Giray and its neighbors was one of the reasons said neighbors were shitholes and life was better in Giray, which in turn justified the usage of Warrior-Slaves and Slave-Bureaucrats to defend said better life?

More like 'justified', with quotation marks, spoke the cynical parts of him. You may be fine with giving up your freedom so that Giray's people can enjoy their superior technology and bathhouses, but others are not, especially the kids.

Which is why I will end the system one day, Ioannes/Yahya thought. If only I can find a substitute way of doing things...

"Tirrarian, that's a nice name," Ioannes tried to keep up a positive appearance. "And, my business, well, that's currently my business. Why don't we go look for the Blacksmith, or you can take me to the Fletcher. The Guard can probably watch the auburn-haired woman as she shops."

"Alright, keep your secrets. I'm afraid I'm new to this town, I didn't even know this place was here." Maybe he'll be in some Tavern? Either way, Tirrarian feared the worst, Blacksmiths were normally up early and if he wasn't here working...

"So," his eyes radiated warmth, "let's go?"

She nodded in agreement. She didn't really have any business with the blacksmith but she wanted to learn more about Ioannes.

As the two walked some distance away from the rest of the group, Ioannes checked for the sound of footsteps behind him, specifically following him. Once they were sufficiently far away, Ioannes ducked into an empty alley close to an actual Fletcher, before saying:

"I'm really, really, really screwed! I didn't know that Flintlocks were so rare!" He then sighed, then continued:

"I have to apologize, but you seem like you're good at...not telling the truth? If so, I need your help; in exchange, I'll not only tell you how I got the flintlock and what I am doing, but also even pay you, if you're officially offering your services."

Tirrarian re-assessed Ioannes. He was definitely not from around here. More importantly he clearly didn't understand anything to do with the underworld. She couldn't help but laugh, 'not telling the truth'! "In this line of business, you never want to 'officially' offer services. Deniability is always key." More importantly she didn't care much for his money, though she wasn't going to tell him that. "The first thing about lying is you try and lie as little as possible. So, tell me a story about you."

Another sigh, then:

"Tell me, you've heard of Giray, right?" Her mood would probably sour at the mention of his adoptive home country; Giray did not have a good reputation outside its own borders, for reasons that did make sense to Ioannes.

She understood why he'd keep this secret. Giray was often regarded not with suspicion, but with open hostility in most parts. A foreign nation that few foreigners excluding traders to their lands had ever seen. That alone wouldn't be enough to warrant hostility, but their alleged abduction of children was. Tirrarian didn't know the whole truth, but she did know that as a country it had very minor contacts in the underworld, but only in the major popularity centers. Even then mostly ports (ports where basically everyone and their grandmother has contacts in the underworld). She nodded at Ioannes, "I've heard of it, little more."

"Funny, despite its reputation, it is a nexus of trade in the region," Ioannes began to digress, but stopped. "Anyway, how do I put this? I'm a Girayid Mamluk; please don't kill me?" he then looked at her with 'puppy-dog eyes', before taking out his Girayid insignia.

"I swear, I'm one of the people trying to change the system, but I can't do that if I don't manage to keep this town safe from the possible magocratic threat and thus gain the necessary credit!"

"Magocratic?" what did magocratic mean? "Anyway, I'm not going to kill you." A thousand thoughts went through her head, why did he ever reveal himself to begin with? Had she heard the name Mamluk before? What did Girayid mean? Why would she want to kill him? She funneled all this information into a question. "So what do you need my help to do?"

"Magocratic, as in the 'Rule of Mages'; I was sent here to put a stop to a Mage who is trying to take over this place and create a state where those with Magic are seen as superior to non-magic users. Also, you seem surprised, and, well...unknowing of the import of what I said to you," Ioannes' mode turned scholarly.

"Anyway, a Mamluk is basically a Slave-Soldier, someone abducted at a young age - 13, in my case - and trained to fight for peak perfection, in order to defend the various Millets* of the Girayid Nation and fight for their freedom at the cost of my own. There are also Slave-Bureaucrats. Anyway, I need your help with keeping myself secret, because I was posing as a common adventurer, only to find that common adventurers don't have firearms. And, also...a few more things that you might need to know."

"Giray is using the current turmoil to increase its trade ties to Waldenshore, not just in legal goods, but also illegal ones, namely orphans. However, if I fulfill my orders to stop this turmoil, they'll have no reason to abduct kids anymore, as they won't have children to abduct. Not to mention that again, I need credibility in order to change the system."

"But, I'm stuck with the fact that, due to the backwardness of this region - no offense meant - I don't have a cover story that will allow me to act against the Mage behind the current crisis, at least not one that would last. So, that's where I need your help, Miss."

Tirrarian considered his offer. She didn't like the idea of helping out a Giray, but this man seemed genuine. Of course, he could be lying, but she didn't think he was. "Okay then, Mr Ioannes, where do we start?"

"My cover story," the 24-year old was glad. "The main problem is that I cannot pose as an ordinary adventurer when I carry expensive equipment, while I'm too...callow and inexperienced to pose as a specialized adventurer - someone who kills giants and such. I suppose I could pose as someone who's got a rich inheritance, or someone whose father had a job of killing giants, or maybe both? What do you think, and what are the weaknesses of this story?"

"I think you should have that if anyone questions you, but nobody goes out of their way to ask people about their background. Especially if that person is trying to save them." she considered for a brief moment his accent, would anyone pick up on it? Probably not... Giray is a fairly long way away. They'll just mark him down as foreign. "Either way, I wouldn't flash those guns around. You may offend a lot of people for using an honourless weapon. Most people in our party won't mind, we're more pragmatic than lords or knights. If I think of anything else, I'll tell you. That's our agreement"

Ioannes nodded, actually happy.

"Thanks, Tirrarian;" he chuckled in the way that socially inept people did when trying to express gratitude. "You're a literal life-saver, and I'll be using my sword more, then in public."

"Anyway, we'd better get out of the alley, then?"

She nodded in agreement. "Someone might think we're up to something."

"Where did Izzy want us to meet again?"

"Maybe we should go back to the Tavern?" asked Ioannes, "or perhaps your...friend is still buying salves and poultices, and we can still reach her?"

*en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Millet_system

@The Harbinger of Ferocity, @Belwicket, @Jon Y, @The Fated Fallen, @Dragoknighte, @boomlover, @KazeXDZ, @IcePezz.

The strangeness the younger man carried to him left something in "The Red" unusually wary of him; not in the way of Roanoke, but in that there was a sense of unease to his demeanor. The others had all but freely displayed what they were capable of, as if it were not a fact best hidden, but Ioannes provided the impression that he had other things on his mind. Either way, the conversation between the two in slight betrayed some sort of involvement together now.

It was at this point the guardsman, his features cut with recent human blood in his lineage in their sharpness, appeared aware of the wilderman's presence, to which he issued a respectful nod. "The Red" remained as ever watchful, but appreciated the gesture - it was an unspoken one, common in its actual meaning versus the torrents of words most "civilized" men preferred. Attention shifting as his hearing caught sound of the gnome and the man with pack in tow, at least in what the barbarian deemed important.

"...why don't we go look for the blacksmith, or you can take me to the fletcher. The guard can probably watch the auburn-haired woman as she shops."

What need had they with the blacksmith? Could they not mend, maintain or work their own weapons and equipment? There was little time left before the ultimatum set forth by the green eyed woman. The gnome, Tirrarian, then intervened in conversation between herself and Ioannes;

"Alright, keep your secrets. I'm afraid I'm new to this town, I didn't even know this place was here."

Their exchange continued, but noted the guardsman that accompanied the three motioned to another, who without the slightest hesitation approached. "The Red" and his attention shifted, no longer paying immediate mind to the two and their conversation, but to whatever was about to transpire. Fortunately, for both the king's men, the approaching man seemed only to welcome his fellow man; the two engaged in a brief conversation before the half elf prepared to send him away on some errand. "The Red" had simply remained there throughout, noting the departure of the man and gnome - of whom disappeared amongst the crowd without notice.

It did not earn the trust of the Son of the Lioness.

Powerful hands folding across his worn, earthen tone breastplate of dense hide, he paused not to wonder their actions, but why they had gone about them so strangely. The gnome was perhaps the reason - eccentric, strange folk, with a penchant for just as unusual behavior as unusual language. Putting any man that put his faith in a musket alongside one was undoubtedly going to result in some sort of abnormal demeanor.

"My good man, I beg your pardon if I interrupted your thoughts but I know nothing of this group, could you care to give me some information about these misfits?" The guardsman said as he turned to "The Red", of whom he was still beside after having seen off his cohort.

One of the tawny brows of the savage rose in inquiry and his primal eyes shifted to the man; he knew truthfully what was just asked, at least in the literal sense. To "The Red", the answer was as simple as any other of its sort, and so as he issued his reply, he tensed not in the slightest or proved to display any demeanor abnormal.

"You have both heroic fools and foolish heroes." His deep, lightly rasped voice rumbled before it carried on, "Some of whom have the desire to save your town, others of whom have the desire for riches and glory."

The beast continued, "I will not speak to know their character, half-blood, but know that I reside in neither of these camps. My business is to kill the sworn enemy. This I will do, with... or without them."

@Letter Bee@Jon Y@IcePezz@The Fated Fallen

This day was not Roberts day. First of, He woke up with a headache from hell. Second of, He had been bitch slapped in the face. And last of, He had stared into two pools of hell witch where still in his mind. So all in all Robert had been having a shitty day. And his sword was not making it any better." You know i think she just really likes you." The sword said sarcastically." The way she looked into your eyes i swear it was true love." Robert was trying to ignore him but it was not very easy, Considering he was in his mind.
"Sword Shut up."The sword laughed and said."I don't think your really mean it"Robert sighed and then said." Sword will you please shut up?" Robert could swear the sword was grinning when he said."louder please"Robert then screamed it as hard as he could both in mind and in voice." PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP!PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP!" The sword started laughing apparently enjoying this a lot. The people around Robert looked surprised and scared out by this man screaming in the middle of the street. But when Robert gave them the evil eye the quickly walked away like nothing had happened.

The sword finally started to calm down a bit, yet still snickering a little. And then when he was about to Annoy Robert again He stopped.
"Robert did you feel that?" Robert was still feeling it. It was like a cold breeze had struck up around him. Even though it was pretty hot. He then felt something looking at him from an alleyway. He looked to see something looking at him. Before Robert could do anything it was gone." hmmm this might get a little more interesting." The sword was silent thinking about what had just happened." This is the third one if i believe correctly." Robert then quickly put the subject aside. He could deal with such a situation later. He had food to buy!

Robert had arrived at the market. He wanted to go to one of the little shops to buy something but saw something that stopped him dead in his tracks. A Young teenager, 14 at best was sitting against the remains of a burned house. The boy seemed to be crying. He tried to stop it but he failed. Now mostly Robert would just ignore things like this but the boy looked very much like him. So he walked over to him Knelled before him and said in a kind voice what was wrong. The boy first seemed scarred at the sight of him but when he realized Robert was just trying to help he looked up at him and said." Sniff sniff I used to live here until the demons came." He started to cry again so Robert rested his hand on his shoulder until he calmed down. The boy then started talking again." Sniff sniff I lost everything my house my friends." He stopped mid sentence trying not to cry."my family"

This hit Robert hard. He had seen Horrible things. Villages burned to the ground the inhabitants still screaming as they where cut down.
He had seen woman raped children tortured Mass executions massive battles. But this had hit very close to home. He looked how much money he had left. He had still enough to last him for a long while. So He Grabbed a handful of gold and silver and gave it to the boy. The boy first looked at the money then at Robert then at the money again." I hope this will be able to help you survive. I wish i could stay but I have a quest to do to save this town." The boy then jumped up and surprisingly Hugged Robert." sniff sniff thank you Mister i Will never forget this. He then ran of leaving Robert. Robert stood there for a moment a single tear rolling against his Cheek." I knew you had a heart somewhere."Robert wiped the tear away and said." Don't you patronize me." The sword sighed." Yet still an asshole first class."

Robert smiled and then walked into one of the stores. Looking straight at Isabeau." Oh shit""Oh yeah"

@IcePezz

She had spent the last few minutes toiling over her brunch decision. A fresh baked danish, filled with some sort of cheese that was only described as divine, and toped with a heavenly dollop of chocolate, or the basket of assorted fruit that seemed to be seducing her with their tantalizing smell, vibrant colors, and ripening curves. If felt good that this was the daunting decision of the moment. Thoughts of their current situation still clouded her mind, but at least there was this one, bright moment of the day. She savored it, along with the delicious, mouth watering aromas that would soon dissappear with the morning.

It wouldn't be long until the afternoon sun blazed on their backs. She gave them all a half hour, and time was almost up. A soft sigh escaped her as she gave into temptation, finally purchasing the basket of fruit. Chocolate was her biggest weakness, but she choked down the thought of the pastry, making room as she shoved an apple in her mouth.

She quickly made her way through the many stalls and shops that lined this part of town. So many wonderful things. She started to worry what would become of it all if they failed.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted as she nearly collided with Robert. It hadn't even been a half hour since she let the rage escape and scared the kid to death. She never intended to scare him, not really anyway. She hated that part of herself. It got her into more trouble than it was normally worth. Her eyes widened upon the near collide, and within them flashed something so genuine, so human and alone. As quickly as it came, it went. Her gaze darted elsewhere as she tried to focus her attention to their current situation.

Meeting his gaze once more, she plucked the apple from the thinning lines of her jaw. Her voice was hoarse as she spoke. "We should be ready to head out soon. I'd hope to reach a decent spot to camp for the night so we're not all devoured by the shadows.". Her sentence crawled to its end. Her mouth went dry and a chill suddenly trickled down her spine. Her eyes were still pinned on his, despite it all. Silence drowned out her thoughts, until "Right... ", she rolled her shoulders back, trying to gain some sort of comfort in the movement of her own body, shaking away ... whatever it was just now. She nodded every so slightly, in acknowledgement, and continued on her way.

@boomlover