The stars shine brightly, searing their brilliance into your eyes. For a moment all goes white, but as the light fades, you’re faced with an amorphous, iridescent cloud. You’re floating in a dark space - only you and the formless figure seem to exist on this plane.

“Greetings.”

You respond, hailing the figure. It chuckles lowly. “You look confused. I am a Titan, one of the 8 that created your world. In the passing millennia, the other Titans have grown weak, and now, together, we will set the world free from their ignorance and complacency. You shall be my champion, and we shall rule Earth together!”

You look down and see brightness swirl into your arms. It courses through your veins and pulses powerfully. A warmth takes over you - you’re being Blessed.

The cloud shrinks away, as suddenly the warmth fades from your body. You’re returning back to consciousness. A million more questions swirl in your mind, but you hear the voice calling. “Do not fret. I shall see you when you slumber. For now, fight, my champion! Bring us glory!”

You’re jolted awake. Looking around you’re still where you were when you fell asleep. Despite the vision, nothing seems out of the ordinary. Your dream has ended; your journey has begun.

===============================================================================================================

You walk across the water. The ocean swells around you, and as you take another step towards the horizon, your stomach lurches as you’re sent cascading into the depths below. Submerged, you are greeted with nothingness.

Your eyes open. There is blackness all around--you close your eyes again but there’s no difference. A deep laugh pervades the shroud of darkness. You feel a twinge of fear, but it instantly dissipates. For some reason, the entity does not seem hostile.

“Youngling,” It begins. You can’t tell whether it’s male or female, but you know for a fact that it’s powerful. “You’ve amused us. To defy the power of the Titans is no easy feat--they selected you themselves from the millions that exist in your world. And yet, the path you walk is so firm and you remain steadfast, even with their influence. For that, we commend you.

“Thus! We have decided to give you a mark. You shall become Branded, excluded from the afterlife your short mortal coil would inevitably succumb to, and you will remain forevermore on earth. We desire entertainment, and you have provided us with a new source.”

The entity cackles again and you feel confused. Entertainment? You feel you will not have any say in the matter. From the darkness, pain sears into the back of your neck. You try to scream--but are stifled by an unseen force. The burning escalates; the voice sounds again. “You have been tethered to the mortal realm--no matter what happens, your soul shall prevail. Reborn and reborn again. Entertain us well, youngling. Or you’ll find yourself living to regret it.”

Abruptly, you find yourself awake. You’re still as you were when you fell asleep--a tentative hand to your neck reveals no discernible injury. Nothing around you seems to have changed. However, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched.

Nalashira

Several Months Earlier



The words from the dream still rang through the young Maiden’s head as she looked into the glass circle which sat on her bed, a present from her Mother the night before. Elir Nazik had been her home for a decade and eight years and her thoughts of it had only ever reinforced her feelings. Never once had she felt herself to be an outcast. Not once did she feel as if her pale skin, so stark in contrast of that which all of those around her possessed, was that of an outsiders. She was always treated kindly by everybody around her, knowing nothing but love from her friends and family. Yet, those very words had come to Nala’s mind the night before she was to leave Elir Nazik. Was she truly never meant to return to this city, to see her Mother again? Her future had always been tied to this very place and her dream had shattered that future as if it were a glass mirror.

Her thoughts were interrupted as her mother walked into the small room, clad in the green and brown ceremonial wear that was required of her. ”Nalashira, daughter of mine, I can’t express how happy I am nor the fear I have for you in words alone. For eighteen years now I have raised you, watching your progress in the Academy closely even if you didn’t realize it. Today is a momentous occasion for you, the day when you set out to begin your Journey of ten years. I have faith that you will return to us, my only daughter,” She said as she approached, wrapping Nala in her arms once she was in range. Nala’s mother, Veneria, had done more than just comfort the tumultuous feelings which raged inside Nala for weeks. Veneria, the ever absent mother though she was, had calmed the storm of thoughts of the dream which Nala had the night before. Nala knew, no matter what, that she must come back to this woman who stood before her, the woman who she had called Mother for so long. No God or Spirit would stop her from coming back to Elir Nazik, to her Mother.

Veneria left Nala in her room, knowing full well that she would not see her daughter for ten years, and went down to the gates of Elir Nazik where the crowd of War Maidens waited for the daughters of Elir Nazik whose Journey would begin that day. Nala donned the cloth armor and leather armor which she had been provided by her Mother and took one final look at herself in the glass. This is me. I am Nalashira, daughter of Veneria and War Maiden of Elir Nazik. Her thoughts bolstered her confidence as she strode out of the house of her childhood, walking well now the path of maturity which had been set out before her. Her legs guided her down the streets of the oasis city, her destination being that of the Gates into the great desert. Nala arrived at the Gates and stood before the Elders of the War Maidens.

”Nalashira, daughter of Veneria,” croaked the old woman who stood in the center, ” we’ve gathered here to see you off on your Journey. It may well be the greatest ordeal you must endure, daughter of Veneria. As such, it is our greatest honor to present to you these items which have been prepared especially for you. Let you, dearest daughter of Elir Nazik, War Maiden, and Comrade of all her gathered, treat these well and return with them in your hands. May the Spirits guide you and lead you home when the time comes.”

Nalashira bowed, as she had been taught long ago and glanced over the items. Most of what was set before her were simply rations or camping gear. Yet, five items which sat on the ground before her. Two were swords, bearing the signs of the fine crafting that Elir Nazik was known for. The remaining three items were a bow and arrows, made from the palms which grew in Elir Nazik, as well as a leather quiver to hold them. The young Maiden gather up her gear and slid them into place as if they were nothing new. ”Elders, Maidens,” Nala said with a brief pause as she turned towards her Mother, ” my revered Mother, I thank you all for this gifts which you have bestowed upon me. I shall be sure to think of Elir Nazik whenever I fight. I vow on the Spirits that I shall return in ten years time. May the Spirits protect you all while I am gone.”

The War Maidens parted the path for Nala to walk out of the gates. Before her stood the desert which surrounded her home of eighteen years, a tribe native to them waiting to lead her on her way out. The sun stared down at her as if it were an eye watching her. Long had she looked up at it in her years before that day, a constant view in the expansive desert that was her home. Nala knew not what it would be like beyond the desert but knew that this day had been one long in the making. She would meet new people and encounter creatures she had never before seen. Her heart hammered in her chest as she took the final step beyond the gates of Elir Nazik, knowing full well that she would not see them for ten years.

Present Time



Nala shook in her bedroll at the thought of those words from the night before, the ones which echoed about her head as she dreamed. Surely they were not words which implied that she would die, that was not the Fate meant for her. At least, she hoped that her Fate was not to die again and again for the amusement of these so called Titans. She would fight her Fate a thousand times over even if it meant waging war on the very beings who sought to kill her only for amusement. They were no Gods or Spirits, Nala knew not what they truly were, and thus she had no intent on letting them lead her life. She rose from her spot on the cold ground, stretching as she stood, and walked over to the clear water of the lake nearby. Her hair had grown longer since she left Elir Nazik, falling nearly down to her shoulder blades.

The lake water was cold but felt nice as Nala bathed in it, letting the cold water cleanse her mind of the horrid dream she had earlier. Her mind instead turned towards the tower in the distance. She had traveled many miles from the town of Lebury to find this tower, Andale they called it. She knew not what she had hoped to find there but had wished to see what it was on her way to the city of Thrayheath that she had heard about in Lebury. Nala walked out of the lake’s water, letting the cool, morning air dry her off before she slipped on her armor. Outside of her homeland, she looked vastly different from the men and women around her who wore metal armor. She felt like an outsider and had taken to only entering villages and towns when she needed supplies.

But, Nala felt freer than she had ever been in Elir Nazik. Long had she been forced to live by the rules of the Elders, the women who had determined that war against the Tribes of the desert was better than peace. She no longer had to fear killing people who had done no wrong. Nala was free to spend her time doing whatever she wish, which often meant singing while she traveled from place to place or practicing her archery. There was no pressure to wake up early, to start her training, nor to patrol the walls and watch for hostile Tribes. She was finally free and could go anywhere she wished. Thus, she turned her eyes towards Andale Tower and packed up her supplies, slinging her wooden backpack on as she started to walk towards the tower. She knew not what she’d find there but she was certain that she’d be there after the sun was fully up.

Night had fallen once more upon Galorand, the moon parting the clouds with a gentle red glow, a sight not quite befitting the peaceful kingdom. The only entities still roaming the streets below were late-working dockhands and the odd stray animal; all others had scurried inside, wishing to remain covered from the rain that smacked the brick walkways with considerable force. Porch sconces were extinguished, and lantern-carrying guards were far and few between at that hour; the only light came from the heavens above. Suddenly, a third-story window in the west wing of what could be called a small manor lit up with a sparking rainbow of colors as smoke billowed out steadily. The sounds of thunder punctuated the explosions echoing out of the vine-covered home, and a crazed cackle followed by a booming yell of triumph rang out...

"Ahahahaaa! Alive! It's ALIIIIIIIIIIIIVE! HAHAHAHA!"

With a satisfied smile, Merasmus spun around and put his precious potted springleaf stalk back on its shelf next to its blooming brothers and sisters, fully recovered from its formerly-withered state. He was absolutely delighted: His revival serum actually worked, and only with minor-severe damage to his equipment! Take THAT, Professor Garmesworth! One CAN fully restore withered vegetation without the use of coal dust! No more shall the good people of Galorand be forced to cure their vegetables that they grew with that quack, Machosky's, coal-based growth injections! Grabbing his journal, Merasmus hastily recorded the success of his experiment, and the alchemical composition of his serum. This was a most happy day indeed! He would need to celebrate...TO THE BRANDY CABINET!

After grabbing the best-aged bottle in his reserves, Merasmus strode with pride to his parlor, stoked the fires until they roared excellently, and sat down with his latest book in hand. Merasmus liked this one quite a bit. It was about a large group of mercenaries traveling all around a snowy land, battling it out with witchmen, hulking frost giants, and of course, their own hearts. "Such a lovely tale..." thought Merasmus. "...and such adventure! Perhaps one day I, too, shall find myself exploring frozen landscapes and encountering strange, new creatures!" Merasmus wondered about the lands outside of Galorand. Not that he didn't know what land was where, of course, he read all about the surrounding kingdoms, but he had never been to any of them himself. One cannot experience a thing by just reading about it, even Merasmus realized this. A book does not let you hear the accents of the native people, or taste of their cuisine, or explore their architecture. But Merasmus was so busy with his university work, how would he ever find the time to get out and travel? Perhaps he would just have to take a temporary leave. His colleagues would understand, surely, and besides, he has definitely earned some time off! But he would need to leave such thoughts for another time, as the hours grew later and later as he read...or perhaps it was the brandy. Either way, it was off to bed with Merasmus.

In his sleep, Merasmus dreamed of a figure. They spoke to Merasmus, calling him their champion. Ah yes, Rennigan, of course. Yes yes, ruling the earth, bring glory and such other things. Merasmus also felt a strange power coursing through him. An all too familiar presence, the same that he felt during that debate all those years ago. He already knew how to use his powers of suggestion; perhaps now that he was an "official" champion, they were being amplified by Rennigan? Yes, of course, that was the only logical conclusion. What? Dream? No, this is no dream! Merasmus does not DREAM, for he is beyond such childish happenings! No, this was obviously a once-thought-long-dead supernatural entity speaking to Merasmus. What!? CRAZY!? Do you know of whom you speak to!? I am MERASMUS, scholar and man of science! Quit multiplying, you are loud enough as it is!

Merasmus jolted upright, eyes half-open, and still rambling drearily at the quintuplets that were making fun of his nose. Rubbing his eyes clear so he could get a better look at the scoundrels, Merasmus was met only with the silence of his bedroom, being broken infrequently by the faint laughter of small children and the inaudible words of the local gossips drifting in from the open window to his right. Looking up at his Chill clock, Merasmus deciphered that it was nearly noon! Good thing the next Committee meeting wasn't until tomorrow! That would have been embarrassing indeed, for an academic heavy such as himself to be late for a Committee meeting. "Hm, perhaps it would be good to get some fresh air after spending all of last night experimenting." thought Merasmus out loud. "Yes, definitely, staying cooped up for so long gives me headaches! I am no tower-dwelling wizard!" With that, Merasmus grabbed his bag of books, alchemical satchel, general goods bag, and his weathered but trusty staff and headed out the door of his home into the misty streets of Galorand, with no objective on his mind other than strolling about the city.

Maris bolted up from her sleeping mat and gasped. A single lamplight flickered. She looked wildly around at her sleeping family. Her mother and father were across the tent behind a large curtain. She could hear her father snoring. Her brothers were all spread out around her on their own mats. Adam, the eldest, lay flat on his back with one arm by his side and one across his chest. Rylan lay at his feet, perpendicular to him. He was splayed on his stomach, arms and legs peeking out from underneath his blankets. And closest to Maris on her left, Lance, the youngest brother, was laying on his side facing away from her.

On her right, the slit in the tent that served as the door swayed gently in the cool night breeze and she could see twinkles of moonlight each time it opened. Maris threw off her blankets and stepped outside. Still in her night dress, she shivered at the chill desert night as she stole away from the tent. She felt a pull on her soul. Something was calling to her from the desert, and she intended to answer it. She found herself being drawn south toward the Rotten River’s bank; the Sandmire Nomads had been following it from desert to desert for some time now and were nearly always camped beside it. The dark peaks of the Ziri Mountains, most often called the Spears, pierced the sky above her as she walked to the river at its feet.

Upon reaching the water, Maris didn’t break her stride, instead splashing right into the river until she was submerged up to her neck. Then she dipped her head under and swam to the bottom. She felt the pull even more strongly now--it was like a chain tethered to her chest. She needed to go deeper to follow it, but wasn’t sure if she could hold her breath that long. You don’t need to, said a voice inside. Breathe. She slowed in her strokes and obeyed, and to her great shock, was rewarded with oxygen. She still felt the water enter her lungs, unmistakably wet and heavy, but it brought no pain--only the same relief of a gulpful of air. Amazed, she breathed in again as she resumed her swim to the bottom.

Deeper and deeper she went until at last she saw it gleaming on the riverbed. Locke’s trident. Her trident. She grabbed its staff in both hands and, holding it out above her head, kicked her way back to the surface. When she broke the surface, she smoothly expelled the water from her lungs--not a painful process, but natural, as if she’d been doing it all her life. She felt dazed as she pulled herself to the riverbank and lay on the sand for a moment to catch her breath, the trident at her side. As soon as she felt her breathing become even again she sat up and held the trident in her lap to get a closer look.

It was only a few inches shorter than she was, she reckoned, and a beautiful, brilliant gold. The prongs were barbed and wickedly sharp, and the middle prong rose taller than those on either side. The bottom of the staff was also sharp, though not barbed, and her immediate thought was that it would make a great hiking staff. But then she remembered her dream. Maris was a champion now, and she had a duty to fulfill. This was to be her weapon.

Fully awake now, the implications of her dream hit her for the first time since she awoke. The Sandmire had never been a religious group, thieving, conniving grifters as they were, but their general agnosticism did nothing to deter Maris from accepting her dream as reality immediately. She stood using her trident and strode quickly to her tent, her nightdress sopping wet and probably see-through by now. Luckily, no one in her part of the camp had stirred, and she took care to not wake her family either when she entered her tent. She moved behind the tall dressing panel, stripped out of her drenched nightdress, and dressed quickly in the day clothes she removed from her trunk, a red undershirt with tan pants and a long yellow tunic. She draped her long red scarf across her shoulders and stepped out from behind the panel. She grabbed her leather knapsack and slipped her leather shoes on as she left the tent. Now she needed supplies. Her knapsack already carried her needle and thread, flint and steel, and canteen, but for the rest she was going to need to raid the supplies tent. And for that, she’d need to overcome the two guards that sat at its entrance.

The girl sneaked in between the many tents, taking a roundabout way to the supplies tent in the center of the camp until she was nearly right behind it. She could sense the two guards at the front of the tent. She didn’t know if they were asleep or not, but she could feel them moving--ripples in the air emanated from them with every slight movement they made, even just the rise and fall of their chests. She grinned at this newfound power. Being a champion is going to have some great perks, she thought. But then her face fell. I know they’re there, but how am I going to get past them? I can’t kill them! They’ve done nothing wrong. She gripped her trident tightly to her chest, thinking. If only I could get in there without even using the entrance.

As suddenly as she thought it, she felt a cool liquid pool at her feet and she was slipping down into it. She at least had the presence of mind not to scream, but she was so startled that when she popped back up out of the puddle and found herself in the middle of the supplies tent, she dropped her trident on the rug-covered floor and fell over on her back. Sitting up, she looked at her feet with wide eyes and saw a small pool of water on the rug, rapidly receding into nothing. She felt the spot when it was gone. It was bone-dry, as if the water had never been there at all. She wanted to giggle with excitement, but now that her newfound powers had brought her here, she needed to get packing.

Maris ended up taking three two-inch spools of thread, several yards of off-white scrap cloth, a long length of sturdy rope, a shortbow and quiver with twenty arrows, a pouch of salt to dry her own meat, and as much food as she could stuff into the remaining space of the knapsack. She used her puddle to pop back out of the tent and snuck her way back down to the riverbank. She filled her canteen and took several generous handfuls of the water before standing back up and swinging her knapsack over her shoulders. She wouldn’t say goodbye to her family. She had fought with them for long enough--they’d be glad to wake up and see her bedroll empty. One less troublesome mouth to feed. She’d only never left before because she couldn’t come up with a concrete reason why. Now she had one. She was Locke’s Champion, and she would win her Titan the war.

Maris knew her tribe would be traveling southeast, following the Rotten River until it branched off to become the Blachten River. She decided she needed to travel in the opposite direction. Her decision solidified as she saw the trees poking up from the western horizon, lit by the rising sun at her back. It’s been too long since I climbed a tree. She grinned wide to herself and started off.

Her brisk, unencumbered pace ensured she reached the edge of Builthy Vale by nightfall. She marveled at how much faster she could travel without her tribe. Her earlier belief that her trident would make a good walking stick was proven correct, which pleased her immensely. She stuck the trident deep into the sand and made camp on the clearing underneath a large tree with twisted, gnarly branches. There were clumps of grass struggling up from the sand, and she made sure to sit on the soft blades to make herself comfortable. Sitting cross-legged in front of her small fire, Maris ate a quick supper of dried meat and crumbly cheese. She scanned the treeline, noting that there did not seem to be a path inside, natural or otherwise. The trees grew close together and she imagined that little sunlight would pierce the thick vegetation. Strangely, she could not hear any sounds of wildlife coming from the forest. The longer she stared at the forest, the more it unnerved her, until at last she shivered and snapped out of her transfixion. The temperature was rapidly dropping, and though she was no longer in the desert proper, it still cooled down considerably at night this close to the dunes. She took out a large, thick length of cloth, wrapped herself in it, and stretched out next to the fire, using her knapsack as a pillow. She slept that night on her side, clutching her trident and facing the woods, too nervous to put her back to them.

Maris woke a little while before sun-up, just as she intended. She wanted to have her camp all packed up by the time the sun rose, so that she would waste none of the precious light on anything other than her trek through the forest. She kicked sand on her fire, stowed her few belongings away in her pack, and brushed the sand off herself briskly, all while keeping a suspicious eye on the trees. It was now morning, but she heard no birdsong. She may have lived most of her life in the desert, but she knew what a forest was supposed to sound like. They’d camped next to plenty, even passed through some. There were always birds chirping, tweeting, singing, in all of them. But this one...she didn’t like this one at all. Her thirst for adventure, however, drove her forward into the forest, despite her misgivings. Yes, something was very wrong with Builthy Vale. Maris intended to find out what.

War for the Crown- Bulithy Vale

The Forest of Bulithy Vale, long having a standing history of being menacing and having been avoided by even the most brave of adventurers. In the past, the twittering of birds and tittering of insects told those who enter that life was within. Now as Maris, Champion of Locke, enters the forest, she hears of nothing. It was as if the forest had fallen into a deep sleep or worse, all life had fled the forest out of fear of what stalked within its depths. Despite the sunlight which could be seen in the small clearings that dotted her way, Maris would have noticed that the forest was seemingly darker than it should’ve been. The way deeper into the forest seemingly grew darker as the Champion walked into the forest.

What felt like hours passed as she wandered deeper into the forest, her thirst for adventure drawing her on despite the creeping feeling that something dangerous ahead. She knew not how right she was until she came upon the scene itself. She smelled it first, the smell of a deep rot, something unnatural and impure. It was followed by the signs of a battle all around, arrows lodged in the trees, deep gashes on them from sword strikes, and large chunks of ground seemingly heaved from their position by an unknown force. The deeper she went, the more devastation she found. Bodies of dead soldiers, wearing little more than rags, became a common sight. Their bodies were bent and broken in an unnatural way, their forms seemingly tossed in similar fashion to that of the ground she had passed before.

She could see the remains of a camp up ahead, the stench of rotting meat and metallic blood strong in the air. Any adventurer would be wary to approach, though Maris was certainly not any adventurer. The forest provided no sounds but that of the rustling of leaves caused by the wind. A faint fire still flickered inside the camp and Maris would certainly know that, in no way, could it have burned through the night. Her choices were slim, knowing full well that the path she had taken into the forest had certainly led her to a point of no return in the forest. She was well into its depths and her only hope was to forge on, whether this meant avoiding the camp or not was still to be seen. Either way, she knew full well that she had become trapped between a rock and a hard place.

@Samara

In the makeshift camp, which the two girls from the Noble City of Thrayheath reside after their banishment from the wonderful city. Heather was outside of the tent sitting down, just right on the ground with a distasteful look on her face, she was angry and wanting the same thing as Cassandra who was still sleeping in the tent. Cassandra woke up in the tent sweating from a horrible nightmare and she was wondering where Heather was. “That was a horrible dream, I hope I don’t have that again,” Cassandra thought to herself. She shook her head and slightly sighs and heads out of the tent in her sleeping clothes, which she was wearing.

Heather looks at Cassandra coming out of the tent with sweat on her forehead. “Cassandra, what kind of dream where you having?” Heather asked with a slight smile. Cassandra looks at Heather back and smiles with a small sigh. “The dream was something about me being Branded by a very powerful entity but it wanted to be entertained with me as it's entertainment,” Cassandra said with a smile. Cassandra never heard of this name before other than her own brand on her lower back, which her biological parents gave to Heather and her. Heather heard rumors of that name from her biological parents, but she wasn’t really given any real reason to care about it. “You must have gotten something from that Dream,” Heather said happily.

Cassandra smiles at Heather since they are branded by their hometown as traitors, which broke the rules. “Therefore, you should get cleaned Cassandra so we can go,” Heather said smiling and winking at her. Cassandra saw Heather’s wink and blushes and smiles happily. “Yes, I will at least we made our makeshift camp by a lake,” Cassandra said blushing. Heather smiles at her with another wink in her eye and Heather gets up to stretch a bit. Cassandra walks towards the lake, touches the water with her toes and shivers slightly since she is still not used to this. She takes off her one-piece nightgown and her underwear and goes into the water and cleans herself off even though it is chilly it wakes her up since she was somewhat tired after waking from that nightmare.

Heather walked towards the lake with a cloth in her hands since they were given extra cloth to make use of and she sits it down on top of Cassandra’s sleeping attire. Cassandra was still cleaning herself in the lake without realizing, and Heather was standing there with her mouth wide open in the awe of Cassandra’s beauty. Heather walks back to the Makeshift camp and starts packing everything up except the tent since Cassandra still needs to get dressed. Cassandra gets out of the lake and notices one of Heather’s towels on her clothes and giggles slightly. She uses Heather’s towel to clean herself off and puts back on her sleep time outfit and walks to the makeshift camp and notices Heather hasn’t put away the tent until she realizes she needs to put on her casual clothes. “Thank you Heather for not putting away the Tent,” Cassandra said with an embarrassed tone. Heather giggles at Cassandra’s tone, which is somewhat an embarrassing tone.

“Get dressed silly or we will never go anywhere, I think we should ignore our parents orders,” Heather said. Cassandra looks at Heather slightly and nods at what she said. Cassandra grabs her casual clothes and takes it into the tent. She takes off her sleeping outfit and slowly puts on her casual outfit. She puts on her blue blouse on last since she loves putting on her bottom clothes on first. She gets out of the tent fully clothed with everything on including her shoes. She puts her sleepwear attire in her leather bag, which the tent goes into as well. She takes out the box, which has her necklace in it, puts it on gently, and puts the box back into the leather bag. “Okay let’s take down the tent together, Heather,” Cassandra said kindly. Heather nods and they slowly take down the tent and fold it very gently and puts it into Cassandra’s larger leather bag the same one, which has Cassandra’s necklace. Cassandra puts on her black cloak since it is sunny and doesn’t want her skin to get sunburned.

Heather put her own black cloak on since she’s worried about being sunburned too. Cassandra puts on her backpack and puts on her other bag, and Heather does the same. Cassandra can see Andale Tower in the distance, it is on the horizon’s edge. “Let’s go to that tower, we could probably get some work there possibly,” Cassandra said knowing she hasn’t spent anything since they were banished from their hometown. Heather nods at her and smiles. Cassandra was holding her longbow in her hands, and with her quiver attached to her leather bag. Heather and Cassandra starts walking towards Andale Tower since that is the closest civilization is since the one they came from doesn’t want them back.

Cassandra looks at her friend and notices her left hand on her short sword handle, which is in a seethe on her waist. Cassandra giggles at Heather for being a little bit too defensive when they don’t have to worry about giant spiders anymore. ”Why are you giggling at me?” Heather asked curiously without realizing she was gripping her sword. Cassandra points at her left hand on her sword’s handle. ”U-Uh whoops I forgot we don’t have to worry about monsters,” Heather said letting go of her hand me down short sword from her father. Cassandra and Heather walked towards Andale Tower, which was pretty far from where they were at since they were only 20 - 30 miles away from it. ”I hope we don’t run in anyone who’s an asshole on the way,” Cassandra said with a gentle sigh. Heather nods with that statement.

Cassandra and Heather continues to walk towards Andale Tower and Cassandra, feels drawn to the Tower for some odd reason. They are slightly happy together and finally getting moving is better than anything.

Nalashira

Despite having camped nearly forty miles away from Andale Tower, Nala had already reached the miles of plains outside the walls of the town surrounding the imposing castle by the time the sun was a quarter through its path. She had taken her time, enjoying the walk through the forest even though it was similar to almost all others she had been in since leaving Elir Nazik. The sight of wondrous oaks full of green leaves and elms with their many branches never ceased to amaze the young girl. Her eyes up to the sky, she let her feet guide her wherever they felt and took no path made by hunters or loggers nor walking the road which split through the trees. Nala had watched squirrels and deer, boars and even a bear, as she walked her own path.

She couldn’t help but feel a deep thrumming whenever she looked at a single thing for too long, as if she could feel the very life force within it pulsing. She shook the feeling off and went about walking with a smile. With the plains now in front of her, Nala knew that she’d no longer get to enjoy the trees but was greeted by a cool breeze which brought awe to her eyes once more as the tall grasses and wheat from farms waved with it as if in greeting to her. She eagerly found the muddy path leading towards the sprawling town and walked it, singing a light tune from her homeland. Her accent adding to its beauty in its own way as she walked, musing that the day felt far better than those in the past few had. She had forgotten all about the dream by the time she made it to the gates leading into Andale.

Gathered around the gates were masses of people and caravans full of trade goods, their owners looking disgruntled as shouting went on further in. Men and women were yelling, some screaming profanities while other pleaded with them for entrance. It became clear to Nala that the gates had seemingly been closed to the public, a select few being allowed in should they be deemed worthy. She knew not what was going on within the town to cause such a decision to have been made so as to stop traders from entering, but it only peaked her interest even more about the town as she drew closer to the gates and guards. The men clad in near perfectly maintained armor and wielding spears, swords at their hips, kept shouting at the crowd. ”Stay back you idiots! We told ya you can’t enter. Not unless you are here to compete,” shouted a stocky guard as he shoved back a man who attempted to run past.

Nala tilted her head to the side and advanced closer to the guards, calmly looking at the one who spoke with a smile. ”What are they to compete for, sir? Is it some kind of, how you people call it, a joust? Or is it a knight’s festival of a kind?” Her crystalline voice shocked the guard, though he took a few minutes to adjust to her accent and comprehend just what she said. The crowd feel back with disgruntled mumbling, leaving Nala alone with but a few stragglers and the guards. The guard cleared his throat and readied to speak, only to be interrupted by the other, an older man who was quite tall and thin but obviously was more than capable for his position.

”Young lady, it is indeed a tournament of a sorts. Our Lord’s son tis gettin’ married in a week and all who are capable are allowed into town, but we are to keep all merchants out because we’ve almost started to overflow with people. I’m sure a fine youngin’ like you wouldn’t be interested in any of it so it is best to scamper off now,” he said, trying to be gentle and careful with his words as he noted the swords on Nala’s hips. Nala tilted her head at him and smiled brightly at him in such a fashion that he took a step back as if stunned.

”I imagine this… tournament would provide a fair amount of gold to those who win, yes? If so, I wish to enter the town to try my hand. It has been long since I’ve done proper training for a fight,” she said with such a sweet smile that the man simply stepped away from the road and went into the guardhouse, opening the gates with the small crank within. Nala smiled and nodded in thanks to the guard as he walked back out before advancing forward. She walked past the gate and looked up at the blue sky with white clouds. What an interesting place she had found herself in this time.

Maris crouched low behind a large bush as she stared at the glowing fire. She knew she should do something, either approach or sneak past, but her first encounter with the horrors of this forest had put quite the damper on her sense of adventure. She could almost feel Locke’s disapproval of her indecision. The Titan would want her to get moving. But her nauseous stomach and numbing fear had paralyzed her. She’d never seen so many dead bodies, let alone those in such terrible condition. What could possibly have inflicted those kinds of wounds? Maris nearly retched again at the thought of all that torn flesh, the blood...that smell. Her gaze refocused on the fire, the girl trying desperately to get a hold on her composure.

She thought again about what kind of person would make camp in the middle of such a grisly battlefield. No. This hadn’t been a battle. It was a massacre. Whatever had done this to these soldiers was a force to be reckoned with. The poor souls clearly hadn’t stood a chance. Shuddering again, she forced herself to think instead of the unknown camper. She’d been sitting here for a couple hours, and he still hadn’t shown himself. The fire was well-tended and strong, so he had to be nearby. She didn’t feel any waves in the air that would indicate he was moving in her direction, but she figured she was far enough away from the camp that her new sense wouldn’t pick up on him even if he were.

Her newfound powers were certainly interesting. The walk through the forest had given her time to test them a bit. Her teleporting puddle didn’t reach very far--she could only travel about ten feet in any direction. She’d discovered that range when she came upon the first mangled body. She had nearly tripped over it, and was so shocked at the extent of the mutilation that her first thought was to get as far away from it as possible, as fast as possible. The puddle flooded beneath her immediately and she had reappeared ten feet back on her path before she had time to squeak in fear. She covered her face for a moment, recovering from the awful sight, then slowly made her way back to the dead man. He was barely recognizable as a man, his face so torn and bloody that she could only just make out masculine features. He was missing an arm, and his right leg was twisted so that his foot faced backwards, almost comically balanced on the tip of his blood-soaked boot. Maris couldn’t imagine what had done this kind of damage, and from then on she didn’t tarry long on her walk.

Until, that is, she sensed a dying woman. She felt the tiniest of ripples in the air, indicating a very small, very slight movement, and although she was afraid, her curiosity got the better of her, and she followed the movement, being careful not to make any noise. She reasoned that such a small movement couldn’t possibly be anything terribly dangerous, though she gripped her trident a little tighter as she drew nearer to the source. Maris smelled her before she saw her, the metallic stench of blood overwhelming her nostrils, making her gag until she wrapped her scarf around her nose and mouth, breathing shallowly. She was dressed in a uniform identical to the dead man’s, marking her as a soldier as well. Her dark hair was torn out in chunks, and bits of her scalp had been ripped from her head. A long, deep gash sliced its way from one temple to the corner of her mouth, giving her a grotesque lopsided grin. But the true horror was her chest. Three long slashes opened her torso from shoulders to hips. Her armor had been destroyed, and her body was bare from the waist up. One breast was missing, the other was sliced in half. She was staring up at Maris with eyes glazed over in pain. How she was still alive, Maris had no idea. The woman’s chest fluttered with her last breaths, making the halves of her remaining breast shake. This was the movement Maris had sensed. The girl turned and emptied her stomach in a nearby shrub, the sight at last too much for her. She stayed bent over for a moment, trembling in shock, sudden tears stinging her eyes. Her trident shook in her hand. She thought to end the woman’s suffering, and slowly turned back around, not eager for the task, but when she looked back down, the soldier was already dead.

Maris trembled again as she remembered the look on the dead woman’s face. She’d looked relieved, like she hadn’t wanted to die alone and had miraculously got her wish. Maris was lost in this bitter thought, and so did not sense the movement of the strange camper just behind her.

Somewhere on the outskirts of Hawic...

Cerise woke with a startle. it appeared that he had accidentally rolled off the couch and onto the cold, hard floor of the caravan. he stood up, rubbing his head, moving his disheveled hair with each movement. his arms then laid to his sides, as he yawned, and then he reached for an apple on the table.

"I've got to be more careful,..."

taking a bite of the delicious, red skinned apple, he looked out of the caravan's window, seeing a figure trying to take a small bundle of wood from Cerise's property.

"Ugh, this little brat again.."

he threw the apple core into the trash, and wiped his mouth, grabbing a decent sized wooden club from behind the door, then, opning the door, he shouted.

"Hey! Get off my damn property!"

the kid took notice of him, turning and running off. he shook his head, closing the door.

" I could really use a nice cup of coffee right now.."

shortly after mumbling this to himself in his half-awake, half-asleep stupor, he pours himself a cup, drinking it down.

several minutes later, he walks outside, having grabbed the necessary equipment for the day, and took in a deep, slow breath.

"ah, what a great time to be alive."

Looking outwards, he spots what appears to be a small skirmish of troops from both kingdoms involved in the war around the area.

"...this close already, not good...."

Rand awoke with the dawn of a new day, the first rays of the morning shining through the single window of his room. It had been three days since he had bolted awake in a cold sweat after having a strange dream, some beings called Titans and wished to make him a 'Champion' to do their bidding. He had refused them and had become 'Branded.' What it truly meant he did not know but since that day he became acutely aware of all like forms around him, much like what he learned from Druidic Magic, though that was not the extent of it. Rand found that if he focused on a plant or an insect for a few moments he could sap the very life energy from it. He told no one of the dream or these new abilities and now, days later, he lay in his bed, clad in his undergarments with a thin sheet over him.

The young man swung his legs over the side of his bed, placing his bare feet on the wooden floor and resting his elbows on his knees, groaning as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He pushed himself up and walked the short distance across the room to a bin of clean, cool water. Cupping his hands he scooped up a handful of water, splashing it onto his face before grabbing a nearby rag to dry it. Finally feeling refreshed and fully awake Rand moved to his moderately sized wardrobe from which he pulled a pair of woolen trousers, socks, and a tunic in which he dressed. Next Rand stepped over to the armor rack beside the wardrobe and donned the chain mail shirt, plate armor, leather boots and gloves as well as strapping his great sword across his back. Finally he put on the deep blue cloak he was often seen walking around in, the hilt of his sword poking out from under it.

Finally fully dressed Rand exited the room, stepping out into a long hallway lined with doors all leading to rooms similar to his own. Walking down the hall and down a staircase Rand entered into the main hall of the guild, the smell of cooking food and the din of the guild. The hall a large room with two long tables running parallel to one another where many of the guild members sat, eating and chatting with one another, though Rand payed little attention to it all his eyes were drawn to a group near the main doors. A small group of Hehamian soldiers were trying to convince members of the guild to aid in the war against Hawic, Rand's former home, while some his guild mates repeatedly told the soldiers they hunted beasts or lost artifacts, not fight in wars.

Soon the disgruntled soldiers left and Sentinels returned to their seats and Rand moved to an empty seat near them. He turned to one of them, "What did those soldiers want?" He knew of course why they had been there but he asked anyway. The man turned to answer Rand, his brow still furrowed in annoyance "They were trying to get us to join that damned war of theirs with Hawic. Sent them on their way of course, we'll have no part of that idiocy.. Say, Rand, you're originally from Hawic yourself aren't you? Feeling any mixed allegiances with this war?" In response Rand grunted and shook his "Of course not, my allegiance is with the guild. Besides you said yourself this war is utterly ridiculous to begin with, it shouldn't have ever happened... He let his voice simply trail off, leaving the discussion hovering. Around him his guild mates took up the conversation, one mentioning the raven haired man with the crooked nose that had recently been seen around Heham and yet another spoke of rumors of a golden eyed woman in Hawic. Rand sat for the moment, listening to the conversations around him and occasionally providing his own input on the matters.

Such a wonderful day! The sun was bright, the humidity brought on by last night's storm was trivially endured, and the birds were...well, really annoying, actually. Their constant chirping made it almost impossible to think. To make matters worse, the people of Galorand seemed content to encourage the fluttering flappers by tossing them bits of bread and oats! The little avians would all fly to the buffet, and amplify their infernal screeching tenfold. Merasmus took it upon himself to escape from the hell that is the outside world by making his way into the nearest book shop, where silent pontification and intellectual rigor reigned supreme. He had only been in this particular shop once before, but the intelligent regulars and the owner's own selection of academic reads made quite an impression on the wizened old man.

Pacing slowly through the many isles of tomes, Merasmus had a very hard time actually choosing picking something out to read. Alchemical manuals, incantation guides, bestiaries of all sizes...they were all so tempting! Ultimately, Merasmus decided on something a bit more contemporary, but also on a subject he had little experience with. The front cover bore blood-soaked blades, rancid gashes, and a very detailed rendition of a leg that just had its foot removed, all encompassed by a flame that enveloped the rest of the book's visage. The title read 101 Common Wounds and Methods of Cauterization, written by Sargon of the Akkadian Warbands. A gruesome read to be sure, but such knowledge could prove very useful to Merasmus...though he hoped that he would not have to apply any of it to himself, of course.

As Merasmus read his newly obtained text in the lounge area of the shop, he overheard some of the other customers whispering about some sort of war between the kingdom of Heham and a land called Hawic. Mercenaries and guilds from all over the continent were being recruited to bolster the fighting force of either side, though apparently most would have none of it. Merasmus considered war a massive waste of time. All that time fighting and dying when those very same soldiers could be put to work testing new inventions and securing magical artifacts for study! The leaders of the surrounding kingdoms were so childish their antics gave Merasmus headaches. Why couldn't they all just play together like good boys? The lands they raze could be home to the next great discovery, and they're just stomping all over them! Absolutely outrageous! Merasmus shook his head and continued reading, not wishing to spoil his good mood by thinking of such conflicts any further.

Hmm...now that is a VERY interesting application of candle wax!

War for the Crown- Bulithy Vale

”What do you think you are doin’ here young lady? Don’t ya know these forests are cursed,” said the figure who had silently approached Maris from behind. His voice was rough, like coarse sand and the thick smell of pipe tobacco wafted out as he thin trail was puffed from between his lips. He smelled partly of dew and blood, a wound on his arm wrapped in fresh bandages easily visible as the Champion of Locke turned to meet the gaze of the obviously veteran soldier. Coarse grey hair indicating stubble was fresh on his face and his hair kept pulled back in a short ponytail made for an intimidating sight to most people.

Yet, Maris knew the man was not a danger nor was he even a hassle should the need arise to fight him. Exhaustion was painfully obvious on his face, his eyes bloodshot and struggling to stay open. It was surprising the man could even stand in his state, something had obviously pushed him to this point. It could only be assumed that it was whatever had caused the damage to the soldiers all about. ”You’ll want to leave here and quick, I can take you out. You’ll only meet the same fate as them if you stay.” Something similar to sorrow and regret in his voice told Maris that he was completely serious. A fresh breeze of air flew past the pair, bringing in the smell of rot and blood from the corpses in its path.
@Samara

Heham’s Desire- Heham

The Sentinel’s Guild Hall was absolutely bustling that morning, a din of conversation being carried well into the streets outside where the soldiers of Heham’s Army stood in great disdain. Some of the smaller Guilds were looking at the door to the Guild Hall with a smile for they knew what had gone down within. It was well known that the those who had denied the call to arms had been talking, something was certainly up and Rand knew it well as at least twenty men from seven different Guilds walked into the Hall. They wore the regalia of fighters, thieves, mages, and even a few merchants and yet, different though they were, they seemed to bear an uncanny unity that few Guilds could call their own.

”So, I hear you Sentinel boys have also turned away from this foolish war just like the rest o’ us.” The booming voice which near silenced the Hall had come from a large man, a well known blacksmith and head of the largest smithy Guild in Heham. His black beard and dirtied skin yet fine clothing contrasted his appearance so that he stood out far more than he normally would’ve. A few other men from other Guilds stepped into the hall, watching out the doors cautiously. ”Now, I’d like to offer you boys somethin’ different. We all know that damnable King is gonna run this country to the ground, I say we stop him. Me and the lads here have already gotten the support of a few of the other Guilds, with your help we could very well win. The only issue bein’ takin out the Black Watch bastards who’s coin purses are filled by the King to guard this city,” He said in a hushed voice to the congregation. A few men among the Sentinels nodded in agreement and few shook in dissent, though the majority showed no preference at all. What had just been said could very well bring about the deaths of all of them.
@AetherChronos

Galrond

While Merasmus read away in the sitting area of the bookstore, the sound of shouting could be heard outside. With the recent dispute over the legitimacy of the King of Galrond had come tensions between the common people, nobles, and the military. It was well known that many Mages held places of power in Galrond, though few more barely more than the King’s personal tax collectors. Those who entered the streets during the day were often attacked and today was no different. Yet, the attack this time was more than just thrown rocks and the occasional punch. This time, men died. Screams echoed from outside into the store as men and women ran from a hail of pebbles. Somebody had picked the fight with the wrong Mage and now there was hell to pay.
@Frizan

Skirmishes

It was a surprise that such a punitive force had made it behind the lines of Hawic’s Army but it was worthless to focus on them. They’d be well enough dead before the day was over and life would return to usual. Men and women watched with curiosity in the nearby area, though they quickly lost the interest and went about their daily lives. They knew little about the world outside of their lands and cared little about it. Cerise though, he wasn’t like the others anymore. The world had cracked up similar to that of an egg and he knew that his life would no longer be the same. A few soldiers wandered by, lacking care in the fighting as the marched towards the front lines. Many had went to die on those fields and for what, an honorable burial? No, that just wouldn’t do for Cerise, not anymore at least.
@souleaterfan320

The way the sun hung in the sky above Galrond made it look almost otherworldly. It was interesting, but Rebecca just couldn't shake the feeling of unease rising within her. After all, she was here for a reason. Despite how cheery and peaceful the town seemed in the daylight, rumors had spread across the country about a mysterious beast appearing in the night. The beast was said to have been the death of many an heir, and had terrorized the people if Galrond for ages. It was only natural for Rebecca to want to investigate. If she couldn't use her blessings to protect world order, what good were they?

She had arrived earlier in the day, and was surprised to find a town that didn't seem gripped by fear of some fantastic beast. The streets were absolutely bustling with activity, making it hard to guide her horse through them with out getting a few annoyed looks. She needed to find a place for him to stay as soon as possible. She tapped on the shoulder of a man passing by for help. "Excuse me," she began.

The man turned to face her, and was met with a strange sight: a dark skinned woman dressed in polished armor and carrying a large halberd. It definitely wasn't something you'd see every day. Was she going to war or something? Rebecca carried on without noticing his confusion.

"Excuse me, sir" she continued, "I'm looking for an inn to spend the night in, preferably on with a stable for my horse. Could you show me-"

"Stay the night!?" the man exclaimed, "Are you mad!?"

It was Rebecca's turn to look confused. "Mad? I'm only looking for a place to rest."

"You should leave." The man's eyes were nervously darting left and right. "It isn't worth risking your life." With that said, he sped back back to the rush of people around them, leaving the confused champion to wonder just what was going on. Maybe there was something to these rumors after all.

As the time passed, the crowd was slowly thinning out. Rebecca and her horse cpuld finally move comfortably, but she still couldn't find any sign of an inn. Suddenly, screaming could be heard up ahead. People began to fall left and right as a hail of pebbles rained from the sky. Rebecca raised her arms to protect herself, and the pebbles loudly bounced off of her armored gauntlets. Those around her weren't so lucky. The pebbles fell like a hail of daggers through the unprotected people. Those caught in the attack dropped like stones, never to move again. Those who could still move were panicking wildly. They all struggled to push past each other to reach what safety they could. In the resulting commotion, her horse panicked. She grabbed hold of the reins, struggling to calm her steed, but it snapped its constraints in the struggle. "No, wait!" she shouted, but the horse ignored her. He sprinted off with the crowd, leaving Rebecca on her own.

Let him go! her instincts screamed in her mind, People are being attacked right in front of you, and you need to help thrm first! She turned to face the coming threat. A group of strange men were at the center of the chaos... No, she realized. Theses weren't normal men. These were... mages! She tightened her grip on her halberd. This was going to be a difficult battle.

Silently, Maris cursed herself for her inattention and turned slowly, still crouched, to face the stranger. Her wariness was swept away by the sight of him. Inexperienced as she was, she could take him, for he was war-weary and injured. She stood, gripping her trident tightly just in case, and inspected him with an analyzing gaze as he spoke. She took no offense to his calling her “young lady” in that scolding tone of voice. In fact, she could feel nothing but pity for him. Clearly something horrible had happened in this vale, and this man had been in the thick of it. She took in his wounds, his exhaustion, and his willingness to escort her out of the forest even in his weakened state, and decided to help him.

“I thank you for your offer, but I am not leaving quite yet. I want to know what has happened here, and nothing will stop me from finding out.” She bent down and hefted her pack onto her back before speaking again. “I am Maris, Champion of Locke. I wish to see to your injuries, sir, before I will hear your story. I have some knowledge of healing, and your wounds appear serious, so please indulge me. May we walk to your camp?” She waited expectantly for him to lead the way, trying not to show her increasing disgust at the deathly smell wafting on the wind.
@Mag Lev

Confound it all! All Merasmus wanted was some quiet reading time, and instead he gets a cacophony of panicked screams and the sound of stone hitting stone. Leaning over the arm of his chair, the old man peered through an empty space in the bookshelf next to him. He could see the street outside of the store, and what he saw caused his brows to furrow. Several people running for the safety of nearby alleyways, and many more lay dead on the pavement. In the middle of the hubbub were some court mages, though Merasmus also spied a young woman with a rather sizeable polearm standing slack-jawed at the end of the road. What was all this nonsense about, and why were they being so noisy!? Merasmus rose from his seat, tossing his new book into his bag, and stormed out of the shop, the end of his staff smacking the ground below as he made his way to the warrioress; she likely saw more than he did. He would get to the bottom of this incredibly rude public disturbance!

"You! Yes you, with the axe-thing!" He yelled, eyebrows still furrowed in irritation. "What is the meaning of all of this!? Did you see how all of this nonsense started?"

Merasmus payed no attention to the mages, and they paid him none in kind. One of the mages looked vaguely familiar at a glance, but Merasmus was too annoyed to pay much attention to the robed hooligans that interrupted his relaxation time. What did interest him though was this woman. As he drew closer, he began to sense something. Power coursed through this stranger, though the source was a mystery to Merasmus. Who was she? Where did she come from? More importantly, what knowledge could she share? Of course, questions could come later. There was still the matter of those pesky scroll-scribblers to attend to.

War for the Crown- Bulithy Vale

”What do you think you are doin’ here young lady? Don’t ya know these forests are cursed,” said the figure who had silently approached Maris from behind. His voice was rough, like coarse sand and the thick smell of pipe tobacco wafted out as he thin trail was puffed from between his lips. He smelled partly of dew and blood, a wound on his arm wrapped in fresh bandages easily visible as the Champion of Locke turned to meet the gaze of the obviously veteran soldier. Coarse grey hair indicating stubble was fresh on his face and his hair kept pulled back in a short ponytail made for an intimidating sight to most people.

Yet, Maris knew the man was not a danger nor was he even a hassle should the need arise to fight him. Exhaustion was painfully obvious on his face, his eyes bloodshot and struggling to stay open. It was surprising the man could even stand in his state, something had obviously pushed him to this point. It could only be assumed that it was whatever had caused the damage to the soldiers all about. ”You’ll want to leave here and quick, I can take you out. You’ll only meet the same fate as them if you stay.” Something similar to sorrow and regret in his voice told Maris that he was completely serious. A fresh breeze of air flew past the pair, bringing in the smell of rot and blood from the corpses in its path.
@Samara

Heham’s Desire- Heham

The Sentinel’s Guild Hall was absolutely bustling that morning, a din of conversation being carried well into the streets outside where the soldiers of Heham’s Army stood in great disdain. Some of the smaller Guilds were looking at the door to the Guild Hall with a smile for they knew what had gone down within. It was well known that the those who had denied the call to arms had been talking, something was certainly up and Rand knew it well as at least twenty men from seven different Guilds walked into the Hall. They wore the regalia of fighters, thieves, mages, and even a few merchants and yet, different though they were, they seemed to bear an uncanny unity that few Guilds could call their own.

”So, I hear you Sentinel boys have also turned away from this foolish war just like the rest o’ us.” The booming voice which near silenced the Hall had come from a large man, a well known blacksmith and head of the largest smithy Guild in Heham. His black beard and dirtied skin yet fine clothing contrasted his appearance so that he stood out far more than he normally would’ve. A few other men from other Guilds stepped into the hall, watching out the doors cautiously. ”Now, I’d like to offer you boys somethin’ different. We all know that damnable King is gonna run this country to the ground, I say we stop him. Me and the lads here have already gotten the support of a few of the other Guilds, with your help we could very well win. The only issue bein’ takin out the Black Watch bastards who’s coin purses are filled by the King to guard this city,” He said in a hushed voice to the congregation. A few men among the Sentinels nodded in agreement and few shook in dissent, though the majority showed no preference at all. What had just been said could very well bring about the deaths of all of them.
@AetherChronos

Galrond

While Merasmus read away in the sitting area of the bookstore, the sound of shouting could be heard outside. With the recent dispute over the legitimacy of the King of Galrond had come tensions between the common people, nobles, and the military. It was well known that many Mages held places of power in Galrond, though few more barely more than the King’s personal tax collectors. Those who entered the streets during the day were often attacked and today was no different. Yet, the attack this time was more than just thrown rocks and the occasional punch. This time, men died. Screams echoed from outside into the store as men and women ran from a hail of pebbles. Somebody had picked the fight with the wrong Mage and now there was hell to pay.
@Frizan

Skirmishes

It was a surprise that such a punitive force had made it behind the lines of Hawic’s Army but it was worthless to focus on them. They’d be well enough dead before the day was over and life would return to usual. Men and women watched with curiosity in the nearby area, though they quickly lost the interest and went about their daily lives. They knew little about the world outside of their lands and cared little about it. Cerise though, he wasn’t like the others anymore. The world had cracked up similar to that of an egg and he knew that his life would no longer be the same. A few soldiers wandered by, lacking care in the fighting as the marched towards the front lines. Many had went to die on those fields and for what, an honorable burial? No, that just wouldn’t do for Cerise, not anymore at least.
@souleaterfan320

Cerise

Cerise stood silently, watching the chaos unfold. blades dancing, clashing against each other with the clang of steel and iron. Men shouting commands, as blood was drawn on the battlefield. Soon enough, around the span of half an hour, there were only two left. On of Hawic's prestigious knights, and a grizzly, thuggish looking knight from Heham, squaring down in front of him. Blow after blow had been dileviered, the steel ringing out in an ugly song. It was only a matter of who would tire first, from what cerise could tell. Unfortunately, the knight from hawic tired first, falling to the Heham knight's halberd.

Who dares challenge the might of Heham finest, Hmm?

The knight barely caught a glimpse of Cerise's crossbow on his back, and the knife strapped to his side.

.. You, sir. Do you hail from Hawic?

Cerise stood dumbfounded. This brute wanted to challenge him. This wouldn't end well...

I do. Do you plan on murdering an innocent bystander, ye brute?

The knight stared at him as if cerise had just offended the knight's very own mother.

You speak with confidence. Lets see if your skill matches, have at ye!

The knight lunged toward cerise, lunging his halberds spear tip towards his abdomen, which cerise drew his obsidian blade to block, driving the halberd into the round with its master's momentum, then promptly guiding it along the shafts, bringing the knife to the mans face, opening a gash across the knight's nose.
The knight let out a noise signifying his pain, then jumped back, pulling the halberd from the ground.

Cerise and the knight then circled each other, waiting for the others move patiently.

Rand sat quietly listening as the smith spoke, telling of his plan to wipe out one of the largest guilds in all of Heham and usurp the king. Slowly panning his gaze around the room he saw that a few of the Sentinels nodded in agreement but many simply made no movement towards agreement or dissent, even the leader of their guild seemed to be indifferent letting the guild members make their own choices.

His brow furrowed as he contemplated his options, on one side if they took action and lost it would be treason and everyone involved would be executed and he would lose some members of his adopted family, for the members of the guild were all viewed as siblings. However if they took no action and Heham lost the war with Hawic then the entire city might be destroyed and everyone might be killed.

With a sigh and his mind made up Rand stood and addressed the smith, "I will help with overthrowing the king, and if need be, eliminating the Black Watch though it would be preferable if we could convince the Black Watch to stand down. They are one of the largest guilds in all of Heham and it is the guilds of this city that make it great. That, and they also happen to be some of the best combatants as well, fighting them won't be easy."
@Mag Lev

War for the Crown- Bulithy Vale

The old warrior sighed and shook his head. ”You don’t understand. Whoever this ‘Locke’ and whatever it means to be a ‘Champion’ wouldn’t matter against a beast like this. I’ll live through this, like I have everything else. One as young as yourself shouldn’t worry about what happened here, move on for it never happened. It matters not to history, those of us who died here are nothing but criminals to those beyond this forest.” The old man walked over to the camp, leading Maris behind and into the rather clean camp, no bodies within its limits though several could be seen further away and had been dragged there.
@Samara

Heham’s Desire- Heham

”Good man,” boomed the blacksmith as he held his arms wide, ”we could use even one of you Sentinels against the foolish King. The Blackwatch though, I don’t know how well they’ll listen to reason. They like their gold more than their morals. We’ll have to hope they’ll listen to reason when we make our proclamation to them.” Several other Sentinels agreed to the decision, making almost the whole Guild by the end of it. The only people who made no decision were the oldest members and the leader himself. Those who agreed stood up and shook hands with the blacksmith, his wide smile greeting each of them warmly.

@AetherChronos

Galrond

The mages stopped at the sight of Rebecca, her halberd a danger to any of them if they got close. ”You dare try stop us you fool? Valiant as you might be in protecting the weak dredges of this society, you are in the wrong. Lower your weapon now and we will spare your life. If not, you shall die by our heads alongside these filth who dare hassle us, bring us many haggard nights. You know not what they have done to me and my kind,” called a man in a long, green robe and holding a sword towards Rebecca.

His eyes wandered across the road, near empty now of people yet a few mage running in the opposite direction. Those who left looked afraid, seemingly paranoid of every shadow as the sun’s light danced across the glass and water about the streets. A few young children peeked out of shuttered windows and around alley corners, though they knew well enough they should not be there. ”Merasmus! My old man! What a fine time for you to show up,” said a young mage who had only seen Merasmus around rarely, ”we could use your help. These filthy peasants dare war against us mages for doing our jobs. Your power could do us well in our efforts to teach them a lesson.”

@Frizan
@Ezekial Wolffe