Balian’s previous days travel had taken him along the banks of the river Gallow, a tried, tested and timeless way of ensuring that as long as your not robbed or killed by bandits you’ll make it to the town-stead of Galloway. He was not far from one of the two gates granting entrance to the town. Gorse had been spreading in the mild breezes that passed, the very thorny, evergreen bushes had blossomed their second and final abundance of yellow flowers. The ranger had thought about picking a load to flog off to one of the many traders in town, in plenty of towns he had passed over his years of travel the Gorse had been popular among the younger ladies coming into adulthood. However, he decided against it in favor of taking a proper night’s rest in the first town he had decided to stay longer than a few hours in months.

The sun beginning to set in the sky behind the walls and rooftops of Galloway looked almost picturesque, Balian shaded his eyes bringing a flat palm to his brow as he took in the scene. Taking a moment for a deep breath he hurried onwards, approaching the gate he was pulled away by a familiar voice, “Could it be? Has the midlands ranger returned?” The voice came in jest, the sort you would expect to be greeted with when a catch up with an old friend is long overdue. He turned his head to look at a man maybe a head shorter than Balian, a thin smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Balian, it’s been too long.” The man spoke as he approached the ranger, arms outspread. “You remember me don’t you?” He teased.

“How could I forget, Brother.” Balian replied, embracing his friend for a moment. These men were not brothers by blood but a bond stronger. “Leon, it’s good to see you.”

“Aye, that it is.” Leon replied, “Well, what tales have you to share since… Well it must be near two years by now. And where’s the lovely Morrigan you’re so fond of?” Leon noticed a sudden, subtle change in Balian’s eyes and before he could reply noted, “How about an ale? One thing I’ve always enjoyed about Galloway is the ale!” With that the ranger found himself relaying through the towns streets, catching up with his old friend. Despite being sunset, the town was still alive, merchants and vendors filled the market, children played games in the side streets while women carried baskets and guards stood at post, ensuring nothing under their eye goes astray.

It didn’t take the pair long to wind up in front of a dainty tavern. Certainly not the most extravagant tavern in Galloway but in the mind of Leon and Balian, the best. They found themselves sat by a table in a corner by the fire and over two tankards of Galloway Ale chat about anything and everything. Conversation lead on to seemingly unfounded rumors of Beastmen warbands already being this far South. Balian assured Leon that there was no such thing, having come from farther North with no signs of Beast Parties having come past the remains of Lindon yet.

The tavern was quiet enough, a few other patrons sat quiet mostly, drinking their ale, contemplating the day coming to a close. Balian looked around nodding in acknowledgement as he made eye contact with one such patron, an older man who hadn’t aged well and now spent his days in “The Retired Sword” drinking away memories past. The lighting in the tavern mostly came from the open fire, the sparse gas lanterns had been turned down low and most of the candles remained unlit. He took another drink, emptying his tankard and with his free hand wiped his upper lip of the froth on his lip as he put the tankard down. He took a small satchel and through a few silver crowns onto the table, “Next ones on me.”

---

Balian sat alone at the table he had been sharing with Leon, who had been rushed off by an associate, business was all the ranger managed to get from the conversation. That was like Leon, and it had been good to catch up with his old friend. It had grown darker outside, dusk had fallen over Galloway and Balian now warm and with a taste for the ale began to feel the fatigue of his journey. There was no doubt that he would be staying in the town at least one night, having secured one of the five guest rooms in the tavern. The warmth of the fire kept the whole tavern warm and the bar had begun fill out with more patrons flocking to it. The lighting in the tavern hadn't changed much yet, there was still not much need.

The patrons talked about a lot of things, mostly rumors, Balian discerned from harmlessly eavesdropping into a few of their conversations. Pestilence, Beastmen, Undead. He wondered how much was true, the beastmen of course were not made up but none had made it this far South yet. A pestilence spreading from the east? And the dead rising from their graves? He decided to wave them off as rumors although he knew not to count anything out, and if true, it was times like these that brought out the doomsayers.

---

Dusk was beginning to fall as Artemis approach the town. From a distance he could see some workers still toiling away at the woods, placing the cut pieces onto a wagon. He could hear the hooves of the horses as they moved around, their riders being ever watchful. He adjusted the straps on his traveling pack, allowing the weight to redistribute properly onto his hips. Artemis wore a cotton smock that fell to about his shins, keeping the elements at bay. Thankfully, the last few days have been relatively dry. He tipped his wide-brimmed leather hat toward one of the Yeoman that was stationed outside of entrance into town. Artemis's pack was rather large, in keeping with a well-traveled individual, but no weapons were visible. The Yeoman directed his horse to intercept the man.

"Halt!" the Yeoman shouted, turning the horse sideways and placing his hand on the pommel of his sword, "What is your business here this eve, sir?" Artemis stopped and looked up toward the rider, taking everything in. The man wore a tattered gambeson but otherwise no other protection. Clearly not a militiaman, or poor enough to not to be able to afford any additional defense. The hilt of his weapon showed minimal signs of rust and the leather of his boots were cracked and aged. For the man's authoritativeness, his tone was pleasant enough.

"Simply a weary traveler seeking respite. I hear you have fine ale here." The rider cracked a smile at that, nodding. "Aye, indeed we do. The finest in the land, if I may boast." The man gave Artemis a once-over, leaning a bit closer. "Ye seem harmless enough. Do take care and cause no trouble. The tavern is down the street and to the right. Large building with lights on. Can't miss it." Artemis nodded his head in thanks and walked into the entrance, the Yeoman retreating his horse off the path. Instinctively, Artemis began to gauge the effectiveness of the militia here. Their defensive positions as well as their general morale. He wasn't expecting trouble here, but years of habit was hard to break. Details mattered. One detail could mean the difference between going home to your family or finding steel within your belly.

Family. This is what he thought of as he walked along the path down toward the tavern. He passed several shops and the distinct clanging of a hammer to anvil rang throughout the streets. Laughter followed soon after, no doubt from The Retired Sword. He did stop, tho, as Executioner's Square came into view. There was something otherworldly that permeated from that area as if the souls of the dead still called out in horror as the axeman ended their lives. The blood sank deep into the earth, forever staining it with the foulness of it all. The irony was not lost on Artemis, given his profession. Some men needed killing. It was always those you least expected to be the most sadistic. The men who were pillars of the community, as some would say, would go home and beat their wives. A cherished man of the cloth would bludgeon the slaves he wasn't supposed to have. He once witnessed a man use barbed nine tails on a child. Suffice it to say, the man no longer drew breath.

Artemis was shaken from his daze as a man bumped into him. "Oy! Pardon me, suh. Ye al'rite?" Artemis nodded in thanks and turned toward the tavern. He gave the Executioner's Square one last glance before heading off toward the tavern, following behind the man who had bumped into him. He wondered what kind of secrets this town would reveal to him. He wasn't sure how close the beastman warband was, or even if Galloway was on their list of towns to hit, but he wouldn't put it past them. They traveled incredibly quickly and striking just as fast. He must always be ready.

---

Artemis paid the woman at the front for a room, dropping several coins onto the table. It was risky taking out his purse in a town he did not know around strangers he did not trust, but sometimes it was a strategic maneuver. You could tell a lot about a community from the way eyes would ogle at wealth. He didn't seem to notice too many, thankfully, and retreated into a corner table with an ale. Soon, a barmaiden approached him, asking if he would like anything to eat. He graciously accepted and ordered a potato stew. The last time he ate was this morning and his travel rations were running low. Relieving himself of his hat and placing it on the table, he shifted his pack off his shoulders and onto the ground near him. He edged it closer and opened a small flap on the side, barely producing the hilt of his blade. His dirks were always on his person, hidden under the smock. They were latched onto the midsection belt of his gambeson and always within reach.

He ran a hand through his matted hair as he looked around the room, studying the many patrons that began to flood inside. Each had their own story to tell. Men and women with loving families. Perhaps some children who were cozying up for bed. He did notice a man being hurried away by another as he said his apologies to the man he left at the table. Soon some of the men from the Watch would come in and have a drink after their long shift, preparing themselves for tomorrow. He still hadn't decided whether to prod for information this evening or simply watch and wait until the morrow. He was dreadfully tired from his journey, after all. The last town he visited was a week back and it was dismal, barely registering as a hamlet. The beds were rickety and old and the company worse. Artemis didn't drink his ale and instead shifted the tankard mindlessly with his left hand. He rarely drank these days as it dulled the senses. He wasn't sure if the Crown were after him and if they were, how far behind were they. At any point there could be a spy and that would mean he had to run again.

After a time the barmaiden brought him his stew and he gave her a coin for her service. The food was still hot, steam rising from the broth within. He gave it a moment to chill before eating it and it certainly warmed the soul. Respite indeed.

Evaline woke in a start, the sun hadn't come up yet as the moon was still bright. Another nightmare, "When will they stop?" She thought to herself. Evaline rubbed her eyes, tears again, her hands and skin felt clammy as they often did. She reached her fingers to the base of her neck and felt her scar with the tips of her fingers. A circle with a bears head and two arrows over the top. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. "Two years and I'm still in this town." She moved her hands away and supported herself into an upright setted position on the edge of her bed. Her long, deep, red hair covered her scar but not her ears. She instinctively grabbed her scarf and wrapped it around her head, leaving her hair flowing the the back but covering her ears. "Two years and they still haven't figured out I'm not of the race of Men." She smiled to herself. She kissed her mothers blue crystal necklace then slid it under her dress.

Evaline looked up at the wooden door to her room. The room was small with a circler window on the right side of the bed, a chest at the end of it and a small night-stand with a candlestick and the book she was reading the night before. Childrens tales of the Galloway it read. She read as often as she could, her collection of books consisted of what had been left behind from guests staying at the tavern. The variety was vast but, Evaline enjoyed them all.

Evaline now stood, tying her bar-maidens apron around her waist. She exited her room and entered the wine cellar her room was adjacent to. She began her morning by cleaning the tavern and preparing the breakfast for the guests. Each tray was artfully put together, some toast in the corner with freshly made eggs and a glass of milk, the fruit of choice this morning were large red apples. She carried the trays to the occupied rooms, knocked on their doors and then left the trays outside of them.

"Elaine!" The owner of the tavern cried out. "You're meant to have the morning off, I need you this evening." "You're right," Evaline said quickly. "I was up early so I already took food to the tenants. I'll be back in a few hours, do you need anything from the market?" The owner waved his hands in dismissal and she was off. She smiled and waved at the townspeople on her way into town. She saw a gentleman, Leon, she thought his name was who came into the tavern often walking with another man she hadn't seen before. She continued on her way wondering the town and then eventually making her way into the woods. She sat near a pond at the base and watched the animals chase each other.

That afternoon she began working, cooking, delivering food, cleaning rooms and greeting guests. "Elaine!" cried Adriana, another bar-maiden. "I'm at my wits end here, can you take this stew to the traveler in the far corner and this ale to the other whome Leon just left?" Adriana nodded at the gentleman in the other corner. "Yes ma'am." Evaline said in hast. She delivered the soup to the gentleman in the far corner, giving him a polite smile and taking his coin for payment. She then placed the ale on the table next to the other gentleman and moved towards Mr. Jameson. He was an elderly fellow who had taken a liking to Elaine. "My dear Elaine, come to see how this old man is doing today?" Mr. Jameson greeted. Evaline kneeled down next to him and took his hand in hers. "Of course my friend. First is there anything I can get you?" The old man smiled and shook his head holding up the hand with the ale in it. "I'm all set dear." He began droning off about his late wife and daughter who passed on from sickness some years before and how Evaline was the jewel that kept him around.

Evaline rubbed his hand as he spoke using a little bit of her healing magic, not enough to be noticeable to anyone of the commoners in the tavern to help relax his aching body and mind, She did this often and none in the tavern were either familiar enough, sober enough or skilled enough to notice it. She kissed his hand gently as he seemed to drift into sleep and continued on with her work. "Will tonight be the night I learn something new?" She thought to herself.

---

He made himself larger, the thick fur hanging from his shoulders, his hands claw-like and a his fangs bared to the people around him. His eyes held a rage, they looked as if they were filled with blind fury. People around him gasped in shock, backing up a bit but not looking away from him. They were staring at him as if he was a beast. 

Ulfrikson let out a bloodcurdling roar.

“. . . so the bear lashed out with his large paw, like this!” His arm swung past the faces of the gasping children, their eyes filled with healthy childlike wonder.

“What happened then, Bjørn?” a small girl asked while tugging at his shirt.

The brute smiled, allowing his body to fall back into its natural, relaxed posture. They were all sitting on the ground, a circle of which Bjørn was the centre and moved around on his knees, telling his story about how he had gotten attacked after someone - a child - asked him about the fur he carried with him. He patted the child on her head and then gestured them all to come closer as he himself spoke a little more quietly. Even the parents happened to lean in to hear what he had to say. 

“I tried to duck, but its large paw struck me.” He quickly gestured towards his face, the memories imprinted in the form of a large scar. “It blinded me and threw me onto the ground. I thought I was dead. But then I looked to the side while the creature was already advancing on me and saw my dagger laying there.” He spoke louder again and everyone moved back, knowing that this was the queue that he would move again. 

Swiftly he drew his knife, showing it to the circle.

“She came closer and closer, finally ready to deliver her last strike, but I was quicker and drove my blade through her thick skin, into her heart. Blood poured down my hands, she roared and tried to lash out again. But it was too late for her. She had wobbled on her big, furry paws before hitting the ground. It was the grizzly’s end.”

Obviously, that wasn’t how it really went. Ulfrikson had almost been dead hadn’t it been for her to get distracted by one of his comrades who shot her with an arrow. They had been sent out in a group of five to slay her. The size of her had been abnormal, Bjørn hadn’t ever seen a beast as big as her. He also decided to leave the part where he passed out from blood loss, his face not having been the only part that had been within her reach, and lack of air after she had dropped dead right on top of him.

A boy, probably around the age of ten, came closer and then sheepishly patted his shoulder, which had Bjørn arch his brow. “It is good that you killed her. She is evil.” He just chuckled in reply and ruffled his hair. She hadn’t been evil. Her rage was the cause of farmers who had killed her cub. They had it coming, but their children and wives had been the reason why the giant had accepted the contract. They were 'innocent' in this case.

He respected animals more so than men. They weren’t evil. Mankind, however, he was not so sure. People made poor decisions based on thoughts and impulses which made no sense. That included himself. Mankind was selfish, he knew, and greedy.

He was about to say something when he heard someone call his name.

“Ulfrikson, get back to work. We ain’t paying you to sit on your arse and tell fables.”

“Aye, aye..”

With an apologetic shrug he got on his feet, telling his ‘audience’ that he had to get back to work. He received a few quick hugs from the children who had befriended him with their innocence and curiosity, loving his stories no matter how many times he had told them already. The parents were mostly people who hired him to do dirty and hard work for them for an unacceptably low amount of coin. Ulfrikson just never really thought about it that way, he could eat at night and buy himself an ale.

The rest of his day was spent chopping wood and stacking logs. At the end of it he was cold and wet and had some coin back in his pocket. He was thanked and dismissed for the day.

Quickly he made his way through the streets of Galloway, knowing exactly where to go to find his favourite tavern, the Retired Sword. He could find the place with his eyes shut. The scent of well brewed drinks and oak fuelled fires had a smile tugging at his lips. this was what he nowadays considered as home.

He entered through the heavily-used, wooden door, reminding himself to duck as not to bang his head against the low frame, leaving the dark and chilly outside behind him to be greeted by warmth and the welcoming scent of ale and roasted meats. In his enthusiasm to get inside he nearly waltzed over a rather short individual. The irritable man, obviously annoyed by Bjørn’s accidental clumsiness, snarled at him, “Look out where you walk, you big oaf!”.

Bjørn halted, slowly looking down to see the man who had sneered at him the way he had. Brief eye-contact was enough for the man to mutter a soft apology as he quickly turned around and hobbled away. Licking his lips thoughtfully, though not focussed on the little incident but more so on the drinking options he had, he gazed up to see Elaine, a woman who he had seen working here plenty of times before. 

Sheepishly he waved at her, seeing how she was occupied by an elder man, so he ordered his tankard with the other lady, Adriana. Some shuffled aside as he made his way towards the hearth, longing for the warmth of a fire.

From the outside, the inn seemed much like the rest of Galloway in appearance. It had been difficult to look through the windows but as you entered through the thick, wooden door; groans welcome you. It's as dreary inside as it is on the out. Hardwood beams support the upper floor and the lanterns attached to them. The walls have a few pictures here and there, though the dust stops you from taking a closer look. Locals seem to be the primary clientele here. The patrons appear dangerous in one way or another, but whoever they are, you'd prefer not to look at them the wrong way, save a fight that would get you locked up in barracks cages until they decide to let you go. You did hear rumors about this tavern, supposedly it's infamous for something, but for the life of you you can't remember what for. Though judging by everything you've seen so far, you don't really care and you probably don't want to know.

As night takes hold, the inn has grown full and lively as it dwells further into the night. Our adventurers find themselves either joining the festivities or still awake in the tavern because with all the noise they find themselves unable to sleep. Occasionally the howl of a wolf pierces the ears of the patrons, the sound is chilling but doesn't impede on the festivities. A fog had rolled over the town having been approaching for quite a while giving a completely different atmosphere to the town streets, many of the lanterns no longer burning for another night.

Suddenly, it grew quiet as a flock of armored guard, swords, halberds or crossbows at the ready ran down the street past the inn the thudding of their leather boots rushed. One guard passing lit the lanterns hanging outside buildings as they could, but was trying to keep up with his comrades. For whatever reason took them, the adventurers are drawn to it, they approach the door and flood onto the street.

Evaline was alone in the now empty tavern, sweeping floors, wiping down tables and cleaning dishes. The rain began to patter on this windows as she was setting up the trays for the tenants breakfast. She stopped for a moment and just listened to the rain. She began humming a lullaby to herself, one that her mother used to sing to her on rainy nights. It was an old elven one that isn't sung very often, especially among men but, Evaline didn't see any harm in it as no one else was around.

In the distance she heard the sounds of several footsteps heading her way. She peeked her head outside the door and saw armed guards running down the street. Evaline quickly ran down to her room and dressed in her cloak with all her essentials at hand, her scarf still wrapped neatly around her ears. She heard the footsteps of some of the tenants above her as well but, didn't pay it any mind, she had to know what was going on.

Evaline scurried up the stairs to the tavern and slipped out the door as the last guard went along lighting lanterns as he went. She looked down the road the way they came, seeing heads peak out of doorways then quickly slip inside their homes. She pulled the hood of the cloak over her head to see through the rain and quietly followed in the shadows where the guards were headed. She glanced back at the tavern and saw a few others leaving it then continued to follow, watching and listening.

Something inside her told her this was important, maybe she would learn something of the whereabouts of her mother or, perhaps someone was injured or would be injured and she could assist in that way.

Aelrath was making his way through town avoiding areas with large amounts of people. He knew how elves were treated and also knew that being half-human didn't make a difference as far as most people were concerned. Even with his hood there was a possibility it would shift in a way that would reveal his pointed ears. He needed a place to stay while he looked for the mage who was supposed to be in town, learning new mid to high difficulty spells took more than a day or two.

He came to a stop outside a blacksmith's shop, he had not had a chance to temper and repair swords in over a week and fighting bandits on the way didn't help their condition. "Sorry to disturb you at this late hour but I was wondering if I could use your forge. I am willing to compensate you for your trouble," Aelrath said to the shop owner as he spoke he pulled out a handful of coins and laid them on the counter. "Yae ken use ma forge jus don burn da place down, eh mate?" The large man behind the counter said with a smile. Aelrath went to the back and was quickly absorbed in his work.

Aelrath was polishing his swords when he heard the sound of the guards rushing through the streets. He considered staying put or looking for a place to stay but his curiosity won over. Plus, he figured that if there was a battle the mage he had come to seek out would appear. He quickly sheathed his swords and ran after the guards, he stuck to the shadows and used a wind element spell to lighten his footsteps so as to draw less attention.

@Heap241@SmileyJaws@Mesonyx@XenoCyanide

---

There was something comforting and hypnotic in sharpening blades. The constant, rhythmic sssshhk of the whetstone as it glided across the edge of his dirks sang him a lullaby. He found no sleep that night for the raucous in the main lobby was something of a bother. He wasn't overly worried about it, however, as he appreciated the time to sit and think. It had been a while since he had the respite of a warm bed within four walls. When you expected a cloaked figure to place a blade across your throat in the middle of the night, a deep and peaceful sleep is hard to come by in the wilderness. He had just looked at his maps, deciding where his next destination would be. So deep within his own mind he was that he barely noticed that the noise below had subsided.

Lifting his head, he listened more intently. He could make out the scratching of plate and leather as they rubbed up against each other in a rhythm. The sound men made as they hurried in arms to wherever they were needed. He tried to discern how many of them there were but the noise was so chaotic, it was hard to tell. This intrigued him, as such a show of force was only necessary against a real threat and not some thief in the night. Rubbing the length of the blade on his dirks, he placed them back into the makeshift scabbards embedded in his waist sash. He then reached over and grasped his longsword, drawing the cords around his midsection and tightening it expertly. He thought a moment, deciding whether it was the most prudent move to grab his crossbow. If his past experience has taught him anything, is that there is never a wrong time for a ranged weapon and so he slung the bolts over his shoulder, letting the case rest at his mid-back and at a slight angle. The crossbow itself dangled in what appeared to be a three-point sling, and slid neatly back near his latissimus dorsi.

He had taken off his regular clothing in favor of his armor after seeing several more guards rushing with what appeared to be purpose. Something was definitely wrong, and he would take no chances here. No way in hell he was dying in some backwater township. Strapping on his gambeson, mail and leather, and light-weight plates at his shoulders and forearms, he proceeded out of the tavern. Instead of following the road, however, he found an easy access to the wooden roofs of the town, making note of which were thatched and not to guide his footing. His hand hovered over his crossbow as he peered into the distance where the guards were running, his other hand resting gently on the hilt of his sword, lifting it so as to not scrape any surface with the tip. He kept his profile low and his stride was deadly quiet. As he skulked through the rooftops of the town, making his way towards the commotion, his mind could not help but wander to the possibilities.

Had he finally found the dreaded beasts?

---

With a tankard in his hand and his feet almost in the fire of the hearth in an attempt to dry his boots, Bjørn found himself satisfied for the day. He allowed a sigh to pass his lips before gulping down some ale, licking the remains out of his moustache. - Yes. These were the things he really appreciated after a long day of work. His arms had longed stopped aching from having gotten used to hard work, and his hands had gotten accustomed to the sting of wooden splinters from carrying around wooden logs all day. Still, it was work that had to be done and he was happy to help out and earn himself a drink and a warm plate at the end of the day.

Slowly the sound of laughing, shouting, and singing had died down within the tavern as a group of armed men rushed by. Interested, some around him had gotten up to get to the window, trying to peer through it to see what was going on outside. Soon enough the mumbling started as people were beginning to assume things. One said something about bandits, another spoke of wolves, until everyone had another vague story about what was happening. More than once, however, beasts were mentioned.
Easily drawn to battle, the idea that something was going on somewhere in or around town had Bjørn strangely excited. He had been looking over the rim of his drinking cup, staring out of the window where the last guard now quickly passed by, trying to keep up with his mates. Had it not been for the ale that now spilled past his lips, quickly dripping down his beard and onto his lap, he would've still been staring at that very same spot, waiting for something else to happen. Instead it made him snap out of it, cursing under his breath as he quickly wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

Having decided that he wouldn't sit here while elsewhere there was chaos, so he rose to his full height, gulping down the remaining ale while his other hand was already resting on his axe. He ached for battle. He ached for danger. Slamming the tankard down, he then quickly made his way outside, pushing through the crowd and probably causing one or two patrons to get knocked off of their chairs. Not on purpose, might I say.

As Bjørn left the warmth of the tavern behind, stepping out into the night, he could see some others leaving the building. He could just catch the glimpse of a man, whose face was hidden beneath his hood, pass by him. There was little attention paid to him as there were other matters on Ulfrikson's mind. He had to catch up with those guards. Though disliking it very much - which was still an understatement - he started to march down the road, following the path which he assumed the guards had taken. His heavy steps could be heard from a mile away as he continued his way through the labyrinth that was Galloway. Luckily he wasn't the only one who seemed to be tracking the men, for he soon decided to follow yet another cloaked figure. - What was it with these cloaks, though? Bjørn couldn't imagine a comfortable situation while running around with a hood pulled over your head which had to be sliding up and down, or wherever it decided to go, obstructing the wearer's sight. Or he just didn't know how to properly wear a cloak.

---

-

---

The bolt flew true, gliding through the air effortlessly as it found its mark. The iron head pierced flesh and crushed bone as it entered in the back of a beast's head, the body seizing suddenly mid-swing as it tried to cleave one of the guards. The body fell over, the inertia of it's swing carrying it further than it normally would go. The guard reacted quickly enough, evading the creature's lumbering body as he twisted to the side. The guard's eyes moved around rapidly, trying to discern where the bolt had come from as another one flew past his head and entering the chest plate of another that was running towards him from behind. That was twice Artemis saved the poor fool's life.

Artemis was already knocking another bolt as one of the beastman caught sight of him, no doubt having traced the origin of the two bolts that ended the lives of his comrades. The creature barreled into a support post that was holding the small outcropping that Artemis was kneeling on sending the structure collapsing. The blow surprised Artemis and he barely caught his footing as he slid down the wooden boards, tumbling onto the ground. He kept the crossbow close to him, as any sudden impact could send the bolt flying down range, and as his feet found purchase, he buckled his knees and rolled forward, twisting his torso as he came back vertical to face the beast that had derailed his height advantage. A quick glance as the crossbow already trained on the beast, satisfied it was still armed, he pulled the lever and sent death.

As quickly as he fired the bolt, he let the crossbow go, his left hand producing a dirk and his right sliding his longsword from its sheath. His eyes scanned the area and focused in on another enemy. These creatures were massive brutes. Incredibly strong and agile enough for their bulk, the game plan here was to use his smaller frame to his advantage. He raced toward another beastman, his sword angled away and downward. His enemy saw him and his own axe raised in a blind fury as he let out a thunderous roar, spit and blood spraying from his mouth. The guard behind him was limp on the ground, a large chunk of his neck ripped out with what looked like a bite wound.

Axe and blade found each other, but the superior strength of the beastman was also it's weakness. Catching the blade under the business end of the axe, near the wooden shaft of the weapon, the push from the beastman allowed the weapon to glide down the length of Artemis's blade. Artemis himself used the beast's body movement by pushing the axe away from him, sending the cursing devil to the left, exposing vital organs to Artemis's dirk. His movement was blindingly fast as his dirk entered and exited several times in a second, finding precious organs. His last attack, he shifted left, pushing off his back foot and sliding the dirk deep into the spinal cord. The wounds would prove fatal, but were not instant kills. Severing the spinal cord allowed him to incapacitate his enemy while he bled out in what would probably be an excrutiating death.

Four down. As the beast crumbled before him, his brain no longer in synergy with his legs, Artemis moved through the battlefield, his blades cutting deep into aggressors. He spotted others that were not in guard uniform and made note of what they wore and looked like. It seemed as if this was a smaller force. A raiding party that may have overextended their hand. Galloway was well defended by the guardsman, and no doubt these creatures could have killed them easily being far more bloodied than the town watch, but they were not aware that there were others in this town that wanted nothing more than to cast their entrails across their mother's feet.

For all his bloodlust, Artemis seemed calm, a dull haze passing over his eyes to those watching. His focus was unmatched as each blow found it's mark, leaving corpses and shrieks in his wake. This was a man possessed of one goal: To murder...

And he was damn good at it.

Evaline watched closely as the guards ascended the town, the echoes of their steps rumbled through the town in rhythmic unison. She felt the shudder of the sudden stop in footsteps at the base of Galloway. Almost as if to hear the distinguished breathes of each guard, each sharp inhale of exhilaration. Evaline peered closer and touched her hands to the earth, her fingertips catching long blades of grass and loose sand. With the anticipation in her heart she felt the untamed rumble of several steps heading towards them. It felt as though time had slowed and everyone took an inhale in complete synchrony, that this moment had lasted for a short period when the spell was broken by the shrill of a beastman.

Evaline knew this shrill, she felt in her bones and the echoes of the screams above the wood panels in her masters house bounced off the walls of her mind. The smell of blood, rush of footsteps and scarlet rain seeping through the floor boards hit her like a thunderbolt. That would happen to all these people, in this town that kept her, gave her a home and an income with the means to learn more about the world outside this small town. She had to do something.

Her mind raced with adrenaline and her fingers trembled. She gazed at the scene before her, the guards fighting in all their might, yelling battle cries, the beastmen lunging in an almost satanic, animalistic fury, and four extras who were neither guard nor beastman. "Travelers?" She though to herself recognizing two of the faces as those who had rented rooms in the tavern for the night, one she had never seen before and Bjorn, the regular customer at the tavern. She closed her eyes in a calm and took a smooth breath, relaxing her hands and her body. At this she began muttering some of the deep magic her mother taught her and she then studied after coming to Galloway. Her voice spoke in a language neither human or elvish, she mutter a long flurry of words quickly her voice rose slightly and her hands raised as she did so. In her mind where the faces of the four extras in the mix, the non-beastmen or guards. She continued to mutter until she felt the spell extend away from her like a short surge towards the faces she placed in her mind.

She appeared to them internally as a soft voice saying, "Strength and protection in a time of valiant triumph." as though she whispered closely and gently in their ears. With a warm touch to their foreheads like a kiss, she gave them an almost invisible armour and an slight increase in strength.

Her eyes opened quickly as a rush of weakness ran through her. "I can't stop now" She mutter to herself. Guards had fallen now, the beastmen were strong but were also finding many had come to their graves. Evaline summoned her strength and stood just behind the group fighting. She closed her eyes again, readied her breath and thought of an incantation. She focused to find all the words. She raised her arms towards the group and began muttering. She spoke quickly and deeply. As her words created the incantation a swirl of wind began to form around her, one that could not be seen but felt so she was still visible within it. She continued to speak, louder now as a glow arose from beneath her feet. Her cape flipped and slapped in the wind behind her, her hair began to float as whisp about.

She continued to chant, her voice beginning to roar over the crowd, the wind picking up it's fury. A beastman approached it but was flown aside when trying to enter the silo. The scarf wrapped around her head began to unravel until it flew up into the air, revealing for the first time since she entered the city of her true heritage. She continued her arms now extended up and pointing over the crowd, the glow incasing her body in a bright light accentuating every detail in her face, hair and body. With a final boom of her voice the wind spread through the crowd as a tornado knocking aside only the beastmen, flinging them into buildings and towards the wood surrounding the city while giving a surge of energy to the guards. The beastmen wailed in pain as they crashed into light-posts, buildings, trees and the like.

Evaline fell to a knee, "Please be enough to help" She thought to herself as her red hair began draping itself gracefully over her shoulders along with her cloak over her back. Her energy was waning at this point. She went in an almost crawl towards the building on her right to draw support from the beams holding up the roof canopy over the front door. There was a middle aged man peeking out from the doorway, "And all this time you were one of those filth, I can't believe I even drank from a mug you passed me." He hissed at her spitting in her direction.

Evaline supported herself along the side of the residence and collapsed against it, her strength almost depleted. She sat with her back to the brick wall behind her, her dagger drawn and at the ready. "Pull yourself together" She told herself, "Find your strength."

---

Bjørn hadn’t been as quick as the cloaked figures had been. They soon disappeared around the corner, fading away in the dark ahead. But it wasn’t hard to find battle for screams of terror and roars of whatever laid ahead soon echoed through the city. The source came from near the eastern city wall.

As he came around the corner himself Bjørn quickly scanned his surroundings; armsmen fought and cried out as they tried to hack away against the giant creatures that had come over the wall, beasts that even towered over Ulfrikson himself. They seemed like worthy opponents to him.
His eyes then flicked over to one of many cloaked figures, a woman whose body slowly dropped down to the ground, seemingly exhausted by whatever spell she had just chanted. He hadn’t missed the moment in which her body was surrounded by wind, viciously strong. This wasn’t the first time Bjørn had witnessed magic, and he knew not to mess with it. Sure, he respected it, but in a way it also made him feel uncomfortable.

His thoughts were quickly pulled back to battle when one of the beasts came running for him. Ulfrikson cracked his neck and reached for his axe, easily sliding it out of its leather sheath. Pulling his arm back he let out a bloodcurdling roar. He loved battle. He lived for it.

The monster came closer and closer until eventually it too pulled his axe back. Before it could swing the barbarian had already lashed out. His own axe had wedged itself into the beast's chest, which paused it for a moment, but didn’t kill him. Bjørn reached to grab his weapon again, trying to pull it out of its chest.

While his attention was completely on the beast before him, or rather the weapon which had wedged itself in its chest, another beastman approached him from behind. A sharp pain went through his back, making Ulfrikson step forwards with a groan. From the shield on his back stuck a giant mace. Luckily the old slab of wood he called a shield still had been strong enough to stop the blow, though warm blood started to slowly dribble down his back. His wound wasn’t fatal. Just a scratch.

The second beast pulled its weapon back again, now having a large wooden shield stuck to it. So while the one was staggering back, the axe still stuck to its chest, the other was hacking away to try and rid itself from the clumsy wooden slab attached to its mace. Bjørn, though unarmed from his axe, decided not to wait around and took the opportunity to pull his dagger.

The first beast was easily victim to the human brute as he stepped over him, snapping its large head back to sink his blade down into the soft skin beneath its jaw. A spray of blood painted his forearms red while the creature sunk down.

He pulled out his axe to turn to the second beast, who had managed to finally get the shield off of his mace and now let out an angered shriek. Though he wouldn’t like to admit it, the sound had sent a shiver down his spine. To equal his sound, Ulfrikson let out another roar and shook his body. The way he was slightly hunched over, roaring and growling while a thick fur was covering his shoulders, it could be hard to see who the giant belonged to; Beastman or Human.

The beast lashed out first with blind fury, his weapon aimed for his chest. Bjørn managed to step aside, feeling the gush of wind that followed close behind his enemy’s mace. His axe quickly swung for the beast’s leg, cutting through its flesh to force it to the ground. But the creature wasn’t stupid. Now close to the ground, Bjørn’s legs were in reach for its giant arms. His legs were pulled from under his body, making him fall to the ground as the creature was already crawling up his body. The foul smell of its breath was sickening.

Bjørn managed to roll them over, now sitting on its large chest and struggling to keep it down on the ground. As the beast went to shriek again, he wedged his large hand into its mouth to grab its jaw. He gave a hard jerk and pulled it loose, flesh tearing and blood gushing, tongue now hanging limp from the beasts jaw-less head. Blood was gathering down its throat, making it choke. A last guttural sound erupted from the beast’s throat before it shook and shuddered, until it eventually laid motionless. 

The barbarian wiped away the sweat that had gathered on his forehead, with that leaving a crimson smear, taking a last look at the beast’s hollow eyes before he got up and sheathed his dagger, gripping his axe a little tighter. He was looking for his next target when he laid eyes on the female elf again. She looked completely drained.

With a soft huff - not being able to suppress the need to protect - he approached her and extended a bloodied hand. It was the waitress of the Retired Sword, he soon discovered. He was surprised to discover that she was an elf, though felt not betrayed in the slightest. Instead he felt sad, even in that moment of battle, for she had to hide who she really had been for who knows how long.

“Are you hurt?”

Balian scanned the bazaar, in the dark the torchlight and moonlight was a blessing, it may not have been ideal fighting conditions. He spotted a cloaked individual, the ranger couldn't remember if he'd seen him in the bar, the rush of combat leading him. He noted his good shot with the crossbow and even in the disarray found himself appreciating the marksmanship. He held his sword tightly as another of the band approached him, axe held high roaring something incomprehensible to his ears but it did not matter much. Readying himself, he lifted his sword to parry but found his weapon brought down while he may have still had a grip on it. The beast was certainly strong, the ranger had noticed it a common trait among their kin. Very few of the beast were not strong physically and Balian had never met one who lacked incredible strength.

Right now he wished he had brought his dagger, instead of leaving it behind at the inn. He cursed himself in silence and butted the beast with his shoulder, it did not budge. He rammed himself into the creature again, with more might but it did not do much good. Almost as if insulted, or as if it had lost all sense, the beast lifted his axe in a rage before bringing it down for another chop, aiming straight for Balian's head. The ranger had been quick on his feet, but had a close encounter with death as he noticed the axe coming down above his head. The force the beast had used, and missed thanks to Balian's quick reflex, had sent him forward a little. He had no hesitation in bringing up his sword and plunging it deep into the beasts back, applying more force the tip came out his chest and then a little more before being ripped from the body. He brought the sword up again, in a fluent movement and struck the head of the beast, cleaving a gaping chasm rendering it dead.

His attention turned to the collapsed companion, he had recognized her earlier as the barmaid and he made his way to her, sheathing his sword. The larger male with a strong frame distracted Balian as such, bow drawn he did not fire - not for fear of missing but rather because he was almost mesmerized in some way by the brutality and ferocity the barbarian put into his fighting. It was admirable, even to one who preferred avoiding a conflict. The ranger had been a second away from loosing the notched arrow straight for the beast as he watched Bjorn get hit by the mace, but watched him fight on. A roar came from behind, a tone filled with hatred and malice, Balian turned and hesitated only a moments notice while he took aim as he came to a halt. The missile ripped through the air, almost gracefully as it plunged into the beasts head, it collapsed not short of him and Evaline, a guard came to a running stop as he watched the beast dead, having been at the ready to attack, bringing the fight to the it. The guard looked to the ranger and then to Bjorn before returning to where more combat was taking place.

When the barmaid, Evaline was approached by the barbarian he looked onward, notching another arrow and making his way to some crates not too far from them.

---

The combat had lasted longer than anticipated, one thing you had to give to the beasts was, they could fight. Balian looked around, catching his breath from having just prevailed over another of the band, he held onto his sword, hand shaking adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He looked around for the others and the dead, while twenty something beasts lay dead nearly the same in guards was present, they were being checked by their comrades seeing if they had fallen or been wounded, the former being correct. With his free hand he wiped the sweat from his brow and then brought his hand down his face, skin running across the stubble. Making his way through the market by the small walls the light of the torches flickered reflected on the surfaces, dancing like some sort of faerie. Now that he'd had a few moments to analyse it all, he was astonished, the rumors had been true. Even if they were just a raider war band, or a scouting party. The news was grim but he could not help but imagine that in some way this might convince the nobles, and the King to move North and maybe even come to some sort of treaty between those who have differences. That however was wishful thinking, most likely.

The combat was still fresh in their minds and it was almost as if nobody knew quite what to do now. Someone was waiting for somebody to give in order, it took the men a while to get in order and begin checking their dead. They'd be buried or cremated and the beasts disposed of somewhere out of town, this would be the most likely scenario to Balian's thinking.

Aelrath followed the guards and quickly found the cause of the alarm. Beastmen were entering the town and were currently fighting the guards. He surveyed the area so as to get a general idea of the strength of the two sides. The beastmen's main advantage was their size and strength, while most of the guards were decently skilled combatants. There were a few people that stood out among the defenders; a ranger who used his bow to injure a beastman before dispatching him with his sword, a man using a crossbow to attack from a distance, and a large man using his strength to go head to head with some of the beastmen. Aelrath unsheathed his swords and headed toward the center of the fight.

"Glavaitha'segeth," his swords became coated in a layer of blue and white flame as he reached his first opponent, a beastman wielding two huge cleavers. Avoiding a slash at his head Aelrath stepped closer to the beast raising his sword and piercing through its throat. It slowly fell to the floor holding its throat as it choked on its own blood. Aelrath leaped over the corpse stabbing a beast that was about to kill a guard in the shoulder. As he did so his hood fell back revealing his facial features. He followed up with a strike to the chest turning the beast into a charred mess. "Are you ok?" he asked turning towards the guard. "I didn't need your help damn elf." the guard says as he picks up his sword and leaves. Aelrath shook his head and turned around to continue fighting.

@SmileyJaws@Mesonyx@Heap241@XenoCyanide

Evaline watched as the battle commenced then swiftly ended, all over the area were fallen beastmen and fallen or injured guards. She took a deep breath regaining herself, "I'm going to have to get stronger if I want to make any kind of difference." She thought to herself. The bevels in the bricks behind her kept her in place for the time being.

Evaline sheathed her dagger and saw at a glimpse a brawny figure coming towards her. Her wind storm blew out most of the lanterns that illuminated the area so it wasn't until the figure was nearer to the windows at the front of the home did she recognize him as Bjorn. He walked briskly and held out a hand to her. The red that stained if smelled of the foul that was once the beastmen that stood before him. She raised her chin and gave him a gentle smile before placing her small hand in his big one. "No, I'm okay, thank you." She said in almost a whisper. This was perhaps, the first time since her mother that she was willingly offered a hand in any situation, without being asked for anything in return. "Or perhaps the favor is around the corner" She thought to herself. His strength pulled her onto her feet quickly, the ground felt stable now and her muscles and bones stood firm.

A light breeze shook the trees and tickled Evalines ears. It was at this she remembered she was not under the protection of her scarf. She blushed and eyed Bjorn expectantly then quickly removed her hand from his and pulled the hood of her cloak over her head to cover them. Her long red hair hung down the sides of her neck under the cloak. She looked at Bjorn for a third time, gently kissed his hand and whispered,"Thank you." In a voice low enough for him alone to hear. She glided past him looking on to the crowd of soldiers kneeling over the fallen and injured. The guard on the ground nearest to her was writhing in pain, his hand clasped over an injury on his upper chest. His face began to grow pail under the mask of dirty that covered it. She quickly knelt down and began unfastening this breastplate so she could see his wound. She put the palm of her right hand on his forehead and whispered a simple spell to reduce the pain. The guard immediately went into an almost trance like relaxation.

The guards breastplate was now removed. Evaline pulled the small chest of healing herbs out from under her cloak that was attached to her belt. She quickly flipped it open and took a pinch full of several different herbs and put them in her mouth. She used her saliva to dampen them. Her right hand was now over then wound as she continued muttering her healing magic to lessen the damage of the wound. She could feel the herbs working on her, giving her some strength back and knew it was time to place the herb mixture into the open wound.

Evaline spat the orange goop into her hand her hand and gently pressed it into the injury. After a moment she felt the harsh and swift slap across her face from a guard who then pulled her up and screamed, "I know your type you sneaky little whore, you elves would stoop so low as to finish a man off when he's nearly dead already. I know what you are, you slut." Her shoved her into a puddle of mud made from the rain and blood that filled the scene. She quickly grabbed her chest and stepped backwards away from him, clutching her burning face. Just before she turned around she saw the man she was working on sit up and steady himself with his hands, she revealed a small smile before turning towards the area she let off the wind spell.

Hanging on a branch nearby was her lost scarf, she quickly snatched it and in a rush wrapped it around her ears again. Evaline began the walk back to the tavern, she fastened her chest back onto her belt and made the short journey down the road. She sought the warmth of the fire and perhaps a warm bowl of stew. Upon entering the tavern however, the scene before her was quite different.

Adriana stood with her arms crossed, a pan in one hand and a scowl that could curdle cream. The owner of the tavern stood next to her looking in disgust and behind the two of them, sitting at the bar, was the gentleman who resided at the house she collapsed against before smiling at her mischievously. In one swift motion Adriana tore her scarf from her head revealing her elven ears. "All this time you were were one of those scum, living under this very roof." She shouted, her chest heaved and her face grew flushed. Adriana tapped her foot on the ground furiously. "Well.." Evaline started. "And to think!" Adriana cut in, "After all we've done for you, you may have been plotting to poison us!" She threw a book at Evaline's feet, the title read Herbs that heal and herbs that kill; A travellers guild to picking herbs near Galloway. The owner looked away in disgust and spat in the fire. "I found that in your room, along with many other interesting books. It just so happens that this book was signed property of B.H. Henderson. Last I checked this wasn't your name, a thief too it seems. Just what were you planning, Elaine?" Adriana spat. "All the books you've stolen found their way as our new kindling." she said pointing a thumb over her shoulder towards the fire.

Adriana smacked Evaline on the other cheek, making her face feel like an oven and beginning to swell with the bruises that have recently inflicted it. "You have 5 minutes to take your belongings out of your room before I smash them myself and add it to the burning pile." She took Evaline by the shoulder of her cloak and shoved her towards the cellar door. Evaline quickly ran down the stairs towards to door to her room. The door was slammed open and her property was thrown around the room, smashed, and torn. She began to gathered what few things she had left. "Why did I have to help?" She thought to herself, her hands moving quickly to find what hadn't already been taken or broken. Her eyes began to water from the burn of pain so close to them. Adriana and the owner were now at the door. "Times up!" She huffed. Evaline looked at her in astonishment, "It can't have been 5 minutes!" She pleaded. "It wasn't." The owner coughed out, "Seems you caused a stir upstairs and the guests are talkin' of leavin' if we let vermin like you stay here long. It's bad for business, now get." Adriana once again grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her towards the stairs.

Evaline quickly climbed them and had barely opened the door to the tavern when the man at the bar kicked her in the back flinging her and her things out the door. She stayed on the ground, her knee had struck a rock, it too now rang in pain. She watched the small rivers of mud run above her fingers. Everything she had left was now soaked. She began pulling her items towards her, canopying them with her body. "Now what?" She sighed to herself.

---

After the skirmish, Artemis leaned over one of the corpses of the beastman, his eyes running across the brute's massive body. He was looking at the overall structure of the frame, finding it rather comparable to the humanoid one. This was a relief, as there are many things that live in the world that have a different anatomy altogether, making what would normally be a kill shot piercing the heart to be nothing more than an annoyance. It was beneficial to know your enemy and one of the things he took with him when he defected was a text of known creatures in the land. Though beastkin were included, it was always preferable to have a hands-on examination.

He took the loose cloth from the creature's loincloth and wiped the length of his blade against it. Blood was bad for blades and interfered with the metal composite. He would need to be sure to to sharpen and oil his blades this evening before departing. Of course, now that he had the proof lying at his feet that the kin made their way this far north, he may have to extend his stay temporarily. He counted the amount of dead that lay in the small courtyard. Twenty of the raiders and he was sure there were others waiting in the forest to report of their failure. The beasts rarely traveled far from their main brigade and this attack was probably a simple probing.

During the fight, he saw a few others that were not common guards. A large, hulking man brutishly carving his way through lesh and bone. A lithe leather-clad swordsman who used both blade and bow effectively. What struck him interesting was that there were two individuals that showed competency in the ways of magic. A swordsman who emblazoned his blades with hellfire and another who acted more on instinct than experience, shattering those around her with a wind that sheered skin and flung mass. Thankfully, he was able to use one of the beastkin to shield himself from the initial gust and was able to slide behind a building to evade the majority of the inertial push. His stride didn't abate and he used this to his advantage, landing several coup de graces upon felled enemies.

As the guards rushed around disorganized, attempting to figure out protocol and upon finding their sergeant dead, scrambling to find the next platoon commander, he slid back into the shadows of the alleys and shacks. Taking inventory of his gear, he strode back towards the tavern. His travel equipment and alchemy set was still stowed away back in his room and he would rather not have to explain the contents to any would-be thieves who would take advantage of the sudden chaos. As he was passing, he overheard one of the guards shoving and shouting at the elven girl who had used her magic against the beastkin. His eyes shifted slightly before turning his back and heading toward the tavern.

---

Taking stock of his equipment, he was bereft to find that he had only five bolts left. He was hoping there was a skilled arbelistmeister in town, or a fletcher who knew the mechanics of a quarrel. He was also running low on hemp rope to string the crossbow with and would need to purchase more. His journey had been a long one but he got by, as the dead need no coin where they were going. He did not remove his armor but instead placed large poncho over himself. He lowered his hood and mask and settled them underneath the collar of the liner and slung his main pack over his shoulders.

He was exiting the room when he heard the yelling of the tavern owner and maiden. Something about an elf and deceiving them. He crept down the steps and slid over to the side, witnessing everything unfold before him. Racism was not knew the the kingdoms, especially to the Elves. This hatred he knew well but never understood it. Hated simply for being. Not a choice any of us could make. Artemis did not interfere with the patrons as they berated the woman. It was not his place. His eyes simply stared at the elven girl, his head cocking slightly to the side as he memorized her face. There was something familiar about her yet distant. Something pure. No matter the tragedy and hatred she endured throughout her life, she did not let it affect her soul.

When the man booted the woman in the spine, Artemis furrowed his brows. As she was flung from the building, those inside laughed with joy. That sadistic pleasure in their tones crawled into the very recesses of his mind and his muscles twitched. Artemis strode toward the opening, the man who kicked her still laughing as she clamored to her knees thick with mud. Now, Artemis is not a large man. His frame was not imposing or frightening like the barbarian that was there at the battle. He was, however, incredibly strong for his build, his entire life having been training for the sole purpose of ending the life of another.

His hand outstretched and his palm slammed into the man's face as he turned around, laughing as he did. It was cut short as Artemis pushed his head backwards, the back of his skull slamming into the wooden post of the doorway. Almost as quickly, his index and middle finger slid down either side of the bridge of his nose, coming into contact with his tearducts. A slight push was all it took as his digits threatened to slide in between the man's eyeballs and eye sockets. A blood-curdling scream escaped as he clutched at Artemis's hand, his hands wrapping around his wrist. With the grip strength of a bear, Artemis squeezed the man's head, his thumb pushing underneath the cheek bone. The man fell to his knees, his voice shrieking in an uncommonly high pitch for a man. The men at the bar rushed toward Artemis but stopped cold in their tracks as they saw the flash of steel.

Artemis turned to face the others now exposing the dirk against the man's throat that he had in a vice grip. They also began to regard the man more closely. They noticed his leather boots were caked in blood and mud. His face had some remnants of gore upon it, hastily cleaned with a dirty rag. His eyes were a piercing husky pale blue that glared at each of the patrons. This was not a man who was in the throes of a passionate rage. He was calm. "Fucking elf lover!" a man screamed as the bitch of a barmaiden began to cry in shock. The tavern owner himself stood puzzled, taken aback by the sudden change. The man under Artemis's grasp struggled a bit but as he did he squeezed tighter, threatening to dislocate his jaw and slide his fingers into his eyes. "You're nothing but a bunch of fucking cowards." Artemis hissed at the group and slammed the head back into the post, the man's arms going instantly limp. He flung the head to the side and the body slid down the wooden wall, unconscious.

Artemis walked out of the tavern, the others inside rushing to the aid of the unconscious man. He looked down at the elven woman and he felt it again. That slight twinge of comfort like you would feel when you've known someone for a very long time. It was distracting, to say the least, and he had things to do. He was sure he would have to answer for assaulting the man inside. Stupid move, Artemis... he thought to himself. Although the town guard would be preoccupied with discarding of the bodies and maintaining order in the streets, he didn't wish to dawdle in case the patrons decided to muster whatever courage they had and exact their own vengeance. Looking down at the woman one last time, he nodded only slightly before heading down the street in search of much-needed provisions.

The adventurers rested over night, even if it was only for a couple of hours. In the morning they were to accompany a scout to the capital to present the severed head of a beast and suggest that perhaps something is done about it. The trek would begin following the beaten track by the river barrow that flowed into the woods itself before becoming a creek and diverging. They called it the mouth of the forest, less dense woodland and harder to get lost in. Their journey would take them to Aurora's End as the next stop in civilization, but it would be a few days trek provided everything went according to plan.

A heavy fog had settled in the early hours of the morning, it was a cold morning and the sky grey. News of the attack had since spread the whole way around the town and while it was still early hours, the traders and those up early were already well informed - those with time having seen the evidence still not fully cleared. While the bodies were gone, blood still remained thick in some places, the cleaning still taking place.

By the south gate our adventurers meet and take off towards the the Gallowglade, following the river trail and preparing themselves for the long journey to the capital. The scout is one of the city guards from the night before, an interesting man he takes his time with his thoughts and words always being careful with what he says. The abundance of overgrowth and the wealth of game present in the woods was present even this early in to the trek. The journey from Gallowglade to Aurora's End was just about all through this forest except for the last few miles.