Carver had his blade in his hand the second he heard the crash behind him. He strode towards the prone man, his face impassive as he listened to the man's introduction.

Whatever reason this 'Fletcher' had for skulking about a castle, it couldn't have been a good one. To say it was 'unbecoming of a gentleman' as Amon had was quite an understatement. The knight pointed the blade at him and spoke with a tone of certainty and command that he had not known he possessed, "Arise then, Master Fletcher. State your purpose for being here tonight, creeping across the ceilings of your lord. Know that though I am a stern judge, I am merciful to those I deem deserving of it."

He glanced over to his new compatriot, who had adopted a similar stance. "I cannot speak for this one, however, so be mindful of your words."

Molly took a step back when the crash happened and looked at the man known as Fletcher oddly before shaking her head and placing her hands on her hips.

"You are lucky the Lady Amalthea is already in her quarters," she quipped. Two men at arms came rushing into the great hall from the back stair case that led into the depths of the castles lower floors. Molly held up a hand and they came to a halt.

"Just a bumbling thief from the looks of it, I believe Amon and Ser Carver have the situation under control," she said before waiving them off. They turned quickly and headed back from where they came.

"Seems you two gentlemen will be earning you keep this evening, bring him with you and follow me," she said as she motioned with a single finger and began walking.

The castle seemed to be set up with no direct route to any place in particular; winding stair cases cut short to floors and landings that went this way and that until eventually they ended up in a moderate sized room that seemed to be the kitchen.

It was nothing grand and seemed more fitting for a small cottage than a castle. In the center was a table that took up much of the room with several stools and benches surrounding it. A small wood stove and buckets of water lined up on a shelf against the wall separated by cracked dishes.

An odd looking black and white cat with a peg leg and a patch over one eye purred as it lay on the table. Molly scratched the cat behind the ear for a moment before she began to tend to what seemed like a stew bubbling in the cauldron hanging over the back wall hearth.

"Just sit him down there," she said to those that had bothered to follow her.

This just kept getting more fun by the minute. Now there were two different swords on him and the guards now knew he was here. He had been doing so well up till then. He focused on the two swords at his head before he smirked a bit. "Two swords? Huh so this is just an average day." He joked as he tried to think up a plan but none were coming up. He had come here to investigate. He decided that he needed to watch his step and try to use these two.

"Why yes I am just your every day common cat-burglar. Except that the King is not my lord." He said happily as they walked through the castle. He made a mental check as he walked through this area. Wally hummed some sort of happy song as they walked. There was still something terribly odd about this place. He could not place what was up with this place.

"He has a name." He said as he sat down on one of the stool and seemed to be rather calm right now. "So this is fun. Two people want me dead and it is not even midnight yet." He said as he watched the rest of them. "Oh and I am not that incompetent. I got here past your guards." He complained to Molly still a bit wounded from what she said earlier. He kept his daggers hidden from his new friends for now.

^{The Old Tongue (It isn't fully completed so some words here that aren't on there will be Irish)}
People turned the other way upon his arrival. Walked away. Lowered their heads. Found some kind of way to hide themselves. It could've been the way he dressed. His previous profession. His origin. But no, it was the pitiful Human cliché - he was an outsider. So as he walked through those hay-strewn streets, all eyes were averted from him and all people cleared the way for him. Just not in the way he wanted. And just like every day, he strolled into the nearest tavern to order an ale, in the hopes that following Human ways might just mean he was able to drink away his sorrows.

And he'd have a lot of sorrows to drink away - there was a different man there. Not the usual man that spend a good while trying to figure out where Dune was pointing, no. It was an entirely different one. He was confused by this - couldn't Hindwalkers (humans) keep their Rank as well as Shifters? Everyone in Summit Pack had kept their Rank - even him as the Alpha-to-be. He sighed and sat down (triggering the person next to him to stand up) and waited to be served.

The man came along, speaking some jibberish Dune couldn't understand - probably English, or any of the other Hindwalker languages. He tried to remember how to say the beverage in English, which ended in him stammering and the man serving him giving him a confused look. With a sigh, he spoke in his own language, maybe others knew the Old Tongue?

"Leann."

With that the man simply carried on staring. Dune rolled his eyes and cleared his throat.

"P-Po... Pota... Po-"

The man then went on rambling again, cutting Dune off and walking away. This action quite confused the Shifter. Did the Hindwalker give up? Did he understand Dune? He decided to sit there and wait a little longer.

Eventually the Hindwalker returned with a wooden mug full of leann, which the man proceeded to teach Dune was called 'porter'. Dune wrote this down in his journal before drinking the contents and setting the mug on the table. He wrote on a piece of paper "Dune na dra oa reu.", before placing it on the table and walking out.

Anya strode through the streets, practically skipping, humming happily. She preferred this time of day to any other, the sun, while it didn't harm her in the least, annoyed her to no end. It was always too hot despite how she dressed.

She felt hungry, so she decided to stop and get a...bite..to eat, she thought to herself giggling. A farmer happend to be making his way down the streets passing an alleyway. The perfect target, Anya thought to herself. She sped up her pace, barely making a sound until she was upon him. She lept, tackling him down, covering his mouth, and slitting his throat all in one fell motion. She was extra careful not to spill any blood on herself, she drank from the wound until she was satisfied and drug the corpse further into the alley.

They'd find it come morning, possibly. No trace of Anya though, of course, there was rarely if ever a trace of her unless she wanted it to be. Calmly coming out of the alley she resumed her pace and humming of her happy song.

Multiple people entered and exited the tavern, it was always such a busy place, though she noticed multiple un-familiar faces. The oyster lady, as she called her never really caring to know or ask her name walked out of the tavern. Damn. She missed her. She liked oysters, esepcially after a..drink.

Maybe, just maybe she'd have one or two left. Shortly after she reached the outer area of the tavern another man exited, he seemed creepy, and not in the type of creepy way Anya tended to like. Legitamately straight up creepy like simply being around him would kill you. Anya was intrigued.

She followed the man following the oyster lady, no one was gunna hurt her favorite secondary source of food if she could help it. She followed as silently as possble, which was pretty damn silent, she'd mastered that talent over the years. And her small height of 5'4 only helped her retain silence.

Sometimes dreams are just dreams, other times they are the very last vestiges of your past - oftentimes facts of your past are mixed with the strangeness of dreams. You can never be quite sure which is which when you are dreaming and when you finally are back in the waking world you may be more confused than anything. Ramia was now rather confused. Her workshop was a mess from her working to the earliest hours of dawn before falling asleep mid tinkering. She brushed her black, now quite messy hair away from her eyes and stared at the ceiling while slowly gathering her thoughts.

Even her dreams were getting hazier now - not that it bothered her at the very moment, since that was just what those had been, dreams. Ramia pushed the thoughts of her strange dreams away and began preparing a meal of bread and watered down wine while lighting up her forge - signaling the rest of the town that she was back in business again.

The Lady Amalthea stood at the edge of her overlook, thin fingers curling against the rough cold stone as she watched the sea. The sun was now setting, hanging heavy along the horizon; casting fiery rays of light over the dark waters and igniting the cresting foam of the waves. This is where she stood most days, saying nothing, moving not; just watching as if she was trying to remember something that had long since been forgotten.

“You grow more forgetful each day,” a deep raspy voice crawled in from behind her. Her head quickly turned as if she was startled as her hand came to her breast, pressing against the sudden rush that had broken her vigil.

“M’Lord,” she half stammered as she looked to the King. Hagard was an old man with worn harsh features; as rough and unpolished as the stone walls of his chiseled home.

“I did not mean to startle you,” he said as he stepped closer and brushed back the long snowy tendrils that had fallen over her shoulder. She nodded and turned back to the sea. He watched her, as he always did, marveling not at what she appeared to be but what she was beneath the façade of humanity. “You brought back with you guests this evening.”

“I did?” she questioned as she watched the waves crash below.

“They will not take you from me,” he warned as his eyes burned with jealously that another was within his walls, able to see her.

“I do not understand what you mean M’Lord,” the Lady Amalthea said confused. King Hagard grabbed her slender and bare shoulders, gripping tightly as he spun her to face him.

“You are mine, if you remember one thing, you will remember that,” he hissed from behind clenched and crooked teeth. The Lady Amaltheas eyes widened as she reeled back and twisted from his grip. A long scraggly finger pointed to her as it shook. “You may have forgotten what you are but I have not. I’ll toss you to the sea myself before I let any take you from me!”

“You’re mad,” she whined in a frightened voice before pushing past him, gathering the folds of her silken gown and running through her room and back into the heart of the castle.

Amon having walked into the Kitchen with Molly and fletcher kept his sword trained on the thief, he didn't like how at ease he seemed. His comments clearly designed to unnerve or impress only made Amon all the more wary. Amon contemplated using his powers, if he chose he could utterly shut down Fletcher's nervous system, he could shut off the nerves in his legs at any rate, but if he did it would be rather obvious what had happened, and he still didn't know how magic was regarded by the present company.

Ahh well he thought, if push comes to shove. Amon positioned himself so that he was between Molly and Fletcher, he reached down with his free hand and clasped the case of his scrying glass. It was warm in his palm so he kept his sword ready.

He looked at the thief 'So' he began 'you are going to tell me why you are here, you're going to tell me now and you're going to tell me everything.' He paused for a moment before continuing 'See unlike Ser Carver here who is honour bound by chivalry, I am not. Do you know, what happens to a man who breaks into the house of a lord where I am from? We round up his family and he is forced to choose one of them, that individual is then killed in front of the thief. Following that we chop off the thief's hands and feet and then he is cast out in the desert. Personally I find all that to be rather melodramatic but I can't deny its effectiveness. Perhaps the lord would adopt such a punishment? What I can say is that unless you answer my questions things aren't going to be very pleasant for you.' Amon smiled at this point before adding 'Or we can act like adults, you tell me what I want to know, I talk to the Lord on your behalf and maybe you just get thrown in a cell for a very long time. Surely that's better than ending up dead hmm?'

The evening at the tavern had been well spent, despite her earlier reluctance. Nearly her entire basket had been emptied, save a lonely pair of oysters. It had been a full one at that too, the sea had been very generous in the morning. Her hand went to the pouch at her side to make sure it and its contents were still there. It was rather heavy and Mira realized walking alone on the near empty streets with such a large sum of money wasn't very clever. The village was small and there were no active thieves she knew of but the house where she stayed was at the edge of the village, near the coast. Normally she would not be bothered by this but she had this strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something was not right there was a chill in the air.

She wanted to avoid standing still for too long and draw attention to herself so she continued on her way with a wary eye on her surroundings. Every step followed the previous one in a faster pace and the young woman nervously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. It was if someone was following her. If she was right they were fell into step with her own footsteps perfectly. In a moment she would reach the village square and she planned to stop there to see who was after her.

Mira safely reached the village square and made her way over to the water fountain which stood at the centre of the square. It was made out of white marble with the statue of a mermaid in the center of it. Her tail was wrapped around the rock she was seated on and in her arms she held a clay jar from which the water was supposed to flow. The fountain had been out of use for a long time now and any water that it contained came from the clouds above. It was battered by wind and rain, the once white marble had dulled into a greyish green tone but despite of that it was one of the more beautiful sights in the dreary town. It always filled her with a sense of peace for some reason, but not tonight.

She reached for the small silver knife in her basket, holding it tightly to keep her hand from shaking. The young woman whipped her head around, the motion causing her braid to fall of her shoulder and hang down her back.
"Who's there?" She asked, her voice quivering ever so slightly. Mira tried not to let her fear sound through. She was not easily scared, having lived longer than most. Yet it was this feeling in the pit of her stomach that unnerved her greatly. It was something she couldn't remember feeling before, if she'd ever felt it at all.

Molly smirked slightly as she went about tending to the meal and the rest of her duties within the kitchen. Amon and Ser Carver had very different out looks on how such things were handled.

"I like Amons idea," she quipped as she prepared several bowls of stew. Placing one each in front of Ser Carver and Amon. The third was placed on a tray. Before their impetuous thief she placed a cracked plate with what looked to be several day old hardened bread and what may have been called a stew if it were a week younger.

"There," she said as she turned her back on the situation to let them hash it out between themselves before she confronted the king about the break in and went back to preparing the tray of food.

"Molly..." The Lady Amalthea whispered as stepped into view at the archway of the kitchen. Though she still held the same grace and poise she always did it was clear by her eyes that she was disturbed about something. Her fingers fidgetted with the folds of her gown as she took a step forward.

"M'Lady, what happened?" Molly asked concerned as she hurried over to her.

"He's mad..." was all she would say and Molly nodded, a look of understanding falling over her features as she took the ladys hand and squeezed gently.

Amon kept his sword trained on the thief, he quickly turned his head to look at Lady Amalthea seeing that she was in distress. He snapped his head back to the thief and kept his sword trained on him, not wanting to give him a chance to act against him.

'I am glad that you think my idea is worthy of merit' he said to Molly whilst still looking at the thief. After this he addressed Lady Amalthea 'What has happened my good lady? Has this misanthrope caused you trouble also?'

Amon pressed the sword closer to the thief, staring him directly in the eyes Amon spoke slowly and menacingly 'Is this your doing?' Amon gestured towards Lady Amalthea before continuing 'Because if you thought the punishment for infiltrating a lords home was melodramatic where I'm from, you don't want to know what we do to men who distress a lady so.'

Zhar'Ryk had entered into the town no more than to nights ago when he made his travels from the city a few miles south. It was clearly evident when he arrived he was out of place, mostly due to the sheer size of himself and his the enthralling crimson and gold armor that he adorned. People didn't know whether to crowd around him or move out of the way. The end result was a mix between the two. It was somewhat comical to him, people would turn their heads or move out of the way before looking but some did both, ending in a few fights that were broken up by the town's guard. Zhar'Ryk had found it somewhat entertaining. But at the moment he had a mission. From the start he had rented a room for two nights and one day so that he could look for some work until he got settled but that unfortunately backfired when he was shown neglect outside of the inn.

"I don't understand why humans can be so rude. All I want is a job, I'm not looking for something special. I don't give a damn if I have to clean up horse shit, I need a steady flow of income." His face showed nothing but an unyielding gaze, though if one were to look carefully, they could see exhaustion in his face. The dragon had stopped for a quick bite before moving further down the market street, denied yet again from a possible job. So now he walked down the street with a frown, once again causing more people to move out of his way. However the more he thought about it, the more of the possibility it wasn't him but rather his blade, Strunmah. It was a rather large and bulky blade but for his sheer size and his ever so present scorn that was on his face, people may have thought he was a bounty hunter or some kind of collector for the thieves guild. Now that caused a lopsided smile to appear, if only briefly. However as he walked down he took notice of a scent in the air, one of dirt and fur. His nose crinkled up for a second until he caught it's trail which happen to be in the direction he was traveling. His unyielding gaze looked down the street of the market until his eyes flashed over to a man walking in his direction. He managed to hold back the slight twitch in his mouth as he moved over to him. ""Gabh mo leithscéal kuna waojk, bhfuil a fhios agat ar dhuine ar bith ar feadh oi oibrí nó rud éigin den leithéidí. Tá mé o hier nua curtha ag lorg rud éigin a preoccupy féin ar feadh thuras na huaire". His scowl concrete on his face with a raised eyebrow.

@Wade Wilson

^{The Old Tongue}
Dune was surprised when the man suddenly started talking to him, but his surprise was increased when he knew the Old Tongue.

"Gabh mo leithscéal kuna waojk, bhfuil a fhios agat ar dhuine ar bith ar feadh oi oibrí nó rud éigin den leithéidí? Tá mé o hier nua curtha ag lorg rud éigin a preoccupy féin ar feadh thuras na huaire."

He stood there in shock for a moment, before thinking about any jobs he'd heard of. There was one, yes, at the place where he got the porter.

"J'a. Dune ol anub oa waojk jaw saor." He turned and pointed behind him.

Wally looked up and had to control his laughter at the idea that Ammon's threat would affect him. He had been threatened with so much more than losing his hands. THis guy seemed to think that he had some kind of power. "Oh please milord." He said adding his lower class accent to add to the effect."I am so scared of you. All you have is a sword! It is not as if I have faced worse, milord!" He said not really scared by him. "It is not like I could get away or just cut your throat! " He said still hiding his daggers.

Wally grabbed the bowl of mystery stew. "I really do not like your hospitality, lady." He said to the woman who really seemed to hate him. He glared back at the sword man before laughing this time. "Me? This is my fault? Hmmm.. I am going to guess the king knows more about you than me. I'm guessing the guards saw you come in and not me." He said as he pushed the flat of the sword away from his throat. "Put away your sword before I cut your throat. " He said cheerfully. "I did not take anything so to you I am not a thief. I understand the law."

He then focused on the new woman. This place keeps getting more and more insane. "If he scares you which I can guess that he does, why don't you leave?" He asked her still ignoring the other men here. He only cared about helping this woman right now.

Molly shook her head at Wally for a brief moment before turning her attention back to the Lady Amalthea; still gently squeezing her hand. Reaching up she brushed a tendrils of hair from the pale woman's face and led her over to a stool by the hearth, helping her to sit down. The Lady Amalthea moved with lithe and grace as she stepped silently across the room, her hands resting gently in her lap as she rested herself on the stool and watched the flames of the hearth flicker.

"She cannot," Molly said with a deep sigh as she stood behind the Lady Amalthea and delicately ran her fingers through the woman's snowy strands. "Now will you stop acting like this is a contest to see who is the toughest. You want respect Wally, knock before entering, accept hostility when you break in and stop threatening to slit anyone's throat. You have done nothing to be extended courtesy. You are lucky Ser Carver or Amon did not just run you through apon your ever so graceful fall. And getting past two out of our total four men at arms for this castle is nothing to brag about. Entering this castle is simple. Leaving is another matter," Molly said before kissing the top of Lady Amaltheas head before going back to washing dishes.

"The king cares not who enters and leaves save one and she is seated before you."

Amon smiled wryly at Wally he'd dealt with this type of response before. Overly certain, determined and a little too cocky for his own good. He'd doubted that the threats would've worked but it was always worth a try. As for his comments regarding the sword Amon was glad he'd kept his powers quiet, if the man tried anything he'd just lock up his muscles without a second thought. Better that he have to deal with the ire of the populace than trying to reknit his throat with his powers.

'I've no doubt you've faced worse thief' said Amon smiling, 'But if you think a sword is all I've got up my sleeve then you're a lot less perceptive than the rest of those who would ply your trade. Molly is right I will gladly run you through if that's what's required of me.'

'Molly, Lady Amalthea' Amon said addressing them, 'Could one of you fetch some guards to see this man locked away? Have the guards take every precaution and whatever happens let me walk him to the cell alongside the guards. But before you go, Lady Amalthea what has happened to you?'

At Amon's request to Molly, Carver spoke. He had been listening for some time now, but he felt it was best he voice his concern now. "Let us be not so hasty, friend. Though the circumstances of our mutual meeting have been... less than ideal, it would be presumptuous to assume that there is no virtue in this man."

The knight glanced around the table. "I am troubled, friends. In this land I have seen much degradation - the people who I pass fear me, for they have suffered abuses at the hands of men in armor. I arrived in this place seeking to offer my aid, as did Amon; but we have been disregarded. My pride is not so important that this should be a great offense, yet it is troubling. It is troubling that we have been warned away from speaking to the king for fear of our safety, and it is most troubling of all that this innocent maiden," he gestured sympathetically to Amalthea, "Has been so affected by his treatment. You say he cares only for her comings and goings - but a king must have eyes for the good of his people."

The knight rose. "I intend to have audience with the King, and I wish that you all might accompany me. Amon, you have shown yourself to be clever, and of noble heart; and Fletcher, while we may disagree in your actions, you are still skilled, and your compassion for the Lady is clear. If we have our audience, and do not like what we hear, I believe you may be valuable allies to me in doing... what must be done. What say you all?"

The Lady Amalthea glanced over her shoulder from her watch at the fire towards the men as her lips pursed. A sorrowful look crept over her features, a lonesome sigh passing from her. Molly pinched the bridge of her nose slightly and let out a huff before peeking outside of the kitchen to make sure the king was not there before looking back at them.

"You would not understand. The king only keeps two things in his presence. That is what is needed and that which makes him happy. A few guards is all he needs to keep his kingdom in line for he has other things which tend to all needs. I am only here because he feels I am needed for the Lady Amalthea and.." she paused as she cat rubbed up against her leg, the gentle tap of its pegleg echoing from the stone.

"The Lady Amalthea is the only thing which makes him happy," she sighed. The Lady Amalthea looked down grimly before turning her head and looking back at the flames flickering in the hearth.

"You will have your meeting in the morning," Molly began but was cut off as the last rays of sun set and the castle quaked slightly from beneath, a gravely high pitched roar echoing through the stone.

Wally would have loved to keep snapping at the other man whose name he did not know. He was arrogant and was a terrible person behind his attitude. Talking about killing him and all that yet pretending to be a good person. It was always fun to deal with hypocrites. Wally liked the knight guy more. He seemed more stable than this other man.

Wally looked over at the servant woman. "Willing to bet I could get her out if I have a bit of time. Also these two seem competent fighters should we need it. " He said as he tried to figure out his plan. Wally pushed the sword back down before he stood up. "Well I like you more than this guy so I am with you." He said to the knight guy. "Push come to shove we could just climb over the wall like how I got in. Or just run down the path. I like the stealthy way more. We would need a distraction though." He said clearly trying to make a plan of how to get out of this place. "Though maybe we should meet the King. I mean I didn't climb the cliffs for nothing." He said as he adjusted his gear.

"Never did catch either of your names." He said leaning against the wall so the angry guy could not keep his sword on him. "What was that roar? Are we not alone here?" He said as he drew his daggers.

Amon smiled once more, the thief's harsh description wasn't wrong, but then again Amon never thought of himself as a good man. He was ruthless when he needed to be and was more than willing to manipulate others if he had to. But he did have a strong sense of honour and justice that overrode all other considerations, and the man had technically done nothing wrong... other than breaking and entering, of course. He sheathed his sword and clasped the case of his scrying glass, it was cold to the touch… a scowl formed on his face something was about to happen...

He looked to the thief who had just asked him his name 'My name is Amon, if you are to accompany Ser Carver then I shall do likewise. I shan't let my new friend go into danger with nothing more than a rogue at his side.'

Suddenly the whole castle seemed to shake, pain shot through Amon and his back arched and he gasped as the whole castle seemed to shake. He fell to his knees fists clenched, he punched the ground and lightning crackled in his fist. The rumbling stopped and returning to his feet saw that Wally had drawn two daggers, Amon's sword was in his hand instantly and the lightning that had been forced out of him continued to crackle in his hand.

'I do not know what that was, but I do not like it. Whatever this King Hagard has done I am going to speak to him now!' spat Amon through clenched teeth 'Ser Carver I will let you take the lead, Wally I assume we can look over the interrogation until we find out what in the name of the sands is going on here! Lady Amalthea, Molly I suggest you either find some guards or stay behind us. I for one intend to challenge this king and if he is as quick to anger as you would suggest then I shan't think he'll be in the best of moods.'