The Palace of Valstand was abuzz, tonight would be a grand party for Princess Tahra, who was finally turning 21. The laws of Valstand said unless an heir to the throne abdicated they were to ascend to the throne, regardless of the current monarchs age, health and desire to rule. This law had been placed to prevent one monarch from ruling for too long, allowing newer generations to keep the country moving forward.

Tahra’s personal guard was uneasy, several near death accidents had occurred leading up to her birthday but Tahra refused to admit that her father had anything to do with it. It was widely accepted if not talked about that the King had arranged for his older brother to drown before taking the throne so that he could become King. Tahra was summoned to her parents chambers, her guard instructed to leave them alone.

Tahra marched quickly through the marbled halls of the palace, not even taking the time to change out of her armor into the dress her mother had picked out for the party. Tahra was immediately concerned, it was apparent that her mother had been crying.

“ Amil, mana na- raica?” Tahra took a step forward and was baffled when her mother threw her arms around her and sobbed. In public they spoke the common tongue but in private Tahra and her mother spoke almost exclusively in elvish, her mother’s native tongue but not her father’s.

The Queen was sobbing but Tahra could still understand her. She tried to comfort her mother but was silenced when her mother spoke directly into her ear. “Tye must imeúre-, -yes na- vamme varna. Your ontáro na- going ana kill tye. Linne- sí!”

Before Tahra could argue her mother had pushed her back, having heard the heavy foot falls of her husband. Tahra collided with a suit of armor and fell to the floor. Her father was holding an unsheathed sword, and he looked angry.

“No doubt your mother has warned you but as always you are too stubborn or too stupid to take the hint. I have been trying to get you to abdicate the throne for months, this is my country and I will not be ousted by my own daughter. You will not take my power from me!”

He raised the sword but his wife stepped between him and Tahra. She pleaded with him to stop. He told her to move but she would not budge. Tahra moved to get up, the armor clinking together as she moved it aside. Tahra yelled for the guards.

Unable to get to Tahra, the King settled for running the sword through his wife, who fell to the floor, the sword impaling her though her midsection. Tahra wrenched the sword out of her mother, applying pressure to the wound while cradling her body in her lap.

“Amil, tye indóme n- okaime. Ni'm símen. Tye indóme n- teréva.”

“Ni mel tye, titta er.”

The guards rushed in and the King pointed his finger accusingly at Tahra. “She killed the Queen in cold blood. She ran in here saying she wanted to start her reign without our influence getting in the way! Seize her, take her to the dungeons! She will be hanged in the morning.”

Tahra didn’t say a word in her defense, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway and she was now holding her mother’s lifeless body in her arms. She complacently let the guards restrain her and throw her in a cell. Now, all there was to do was wait for the morning, for her father to kill her like he had killed her mother.

---

Avad:

The man crumpled his head into his hands as he looked over the situation in the garden below.

"What a mess this has turned into," he muttered. "It would've been such a nice party, too. I've not been to one for quite a time." For a moment he had a flashback to gashing bolts of lightning searing into unexpecting partygoers, but shrugged it off. It's been near twenty-five years. I can handle it.

Sighing heavily, he took his head out of his hands and raised one into the air with outstretched finger, a bead of silver-gray light coalescing at the tip. Grunting out "Andom têllumar erentêl vanastel" and tracing a sigil in the air with the light on his finger, he turned to the patrol of guards beside him as the garden filled with billowing gray fog. "Go down there and calm them down. They're confused, there are rumors spreading, they don't know what's happening. And please," he added with a withering glare, "Sost's bones, do not use lethal force. Try not to injure at all. They've all on the edge of riot already. The last thing we need is more chaos."

A salute, and they ran to do so. One, however, remained in salute. "Sir!" he bellowed, "what are you going to do?"

Avad sighed. "First, soldier, I'm going to do this." Again his voice lowered to a mutter: "Andom arbricopis êthen olmfeil." He traced a different sign, and he eyes of the soldier in front of him gleamed a dull gray and he rubbed them a moment, clearly confused. Avad inclined his head. "Fogvision. Otherwise you'd be as blind as those in the cloud down there. It's on all of your squad. And now," he turned, his ivory robe swirling about him in a suitably dramatic fashion, he thought, "I need to pay somebody a visit."

---

Grim-faced, Avad stood by the cell that the princess was in. He'd been taking care of her from afar for years now, and she looked as he'd never seen her: defeated. That was the word. Her eyes were dull, and she seemed closed in on herself. He sighed for what was perhaps the seventieth time that day.

"Tahra," he began wearily, "why would do kill her? You were so close to the throne. I've known you for many years, girl, and I don't think you're stupid. So why?"

He hadn't believed it when first he heard. He'd heard, after all, many strange rumors from the guard barracks of the castle, ranging from the tragic to the raunchy and all in between. He'd thought nothing of one that the queen was dead, killed by her daughter. In fact, it wasn't even the first time he'd heard that.

But then he saw the queen's body in the sanctum.

It had taken a vast amount of convincing to be let down here. Technically, only the highest ranks of military--General, Fleet Admiral, Archmage Ascendant--were allowed into the holding cells for those condemned to death, but he'd pulled some strings and pulled rank to slip down here 'unnoticed' for a brief time to talk to Tahra. Even then, he'd had to conceal himself in a misty shroud when making his way down into the truly deep cells, where only the king was allowed to walk.

"And one more thing, Tahra," he said, voice softening, "I know you'll die on the morrow, but...where are your wounds? You're doing a remarkable job of hiding them. The king was holding a bloody sword, said Eiendol. So the least I can do as courtesy is to treat them." For yet another time that night, a bead of light leapt to his finger, though it was more of a gold than a silver. He grunted and swayed. "Been off the front too long, getting soft and out of practice," he admonished himself. Locking eyes with the princess, he spoke. "Healing magic. Not the best at it, but if you don't know some, you're orders of magnitude less useful on the battlefield. Now, your torso is covered in blood. Let me patch you up."

Tahra was only mildly surprised to see Avad had come to see her. She laughed when he asked about her wounds. “There is no need, Avad. Ha na- hen cuil. It is my mother’s blood, shed for me, that soaks my armor.”

Tahra offered no defense, as far as she was concerned she had killed her mother. Her mother had told her to leave but even if she’d had the time she would not have left, she had always known she could not leave her people under her father’s rule. The longer his reign the harsher he got, the more uneasy his subjects became – they knew their King was afraid of losing his power and would stop at nothing to keep it. He had murdered thousands of his own people to keep them in check. Their one hope had been the Princess, but now, she was as good as dead.

“You should not be seen with me, it will not paint you in a favorable light in my father’s eyes.”

Ian was filled with both regret and relief about his current situation, he'd managed to get into the castle, that much as simple, but the regret came when the realization of just what he was doing set in, thankfully that assassination of the queen caused a good deal of strife and he was able to take advantage of the confusion to get as far as he did. He still ran into trouble as he got closer to the inner parts of the castle.

He was getting hung up more and almost got himself caught once, but then a large fog cloud rolled in as he was trying to cross the gardens. After silently thanking whatever god was favoring him at the moment he carried on, having to take a slightly longer way around to avoid getting caught in the fog himself, and quickly snuck through the entrance to the dungeon, and after a short encounter with a half-asleep jailer to obtain his keyring, he found his way to the lower dungeons.

When he finally found Tahra's cell and peeked around the corner he saw a war hero of a battlemage standing just in front of her cell. He pulled back around the corner and sighed, contending with a Royal high battlemage was definitely not something he wanted to do but he couldn't exactly wait around for however long it would take for him to leave. "here we go" he murmured under his breath and went around the corner again. At least the mage was distracted with talking to the princess, so all he really had to do was keep his footfalls as silent as he could as he sprinted down the hall behind him. He lowered his shoulder and turned slightly as he ran, aiming to shoulder-check the man's face into the bars and hope to the highest of hells that would be enough to knock him out.

Avad's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to ask a question of the princess.

Then, suddenly, he found himself flung bodily forward and his face slammed into the steel bars of the prison, coming very close to knocking him out. A shell of transparent gray light peeled away from his body and he gasped for a moment in the sheer shock of the moment. Whatever had hit him, it had gone through his shielding as though it wasn't there, and still slammed him into the prison hard enough to bring him close to unconsciousness. As it was, he was heavily winded and unable to rise.

Understand, Avad was not overfond of close-quarters combat. Indeed, he was close to useless at it, and his official robe provided little in the way of protection. He was used to sitting in the backlines of an army and manipulating the battlefield from a distance, not brawling with the lithe, white-haired man that had just tackled him down.

Gasping for air, he tried to mouth a few words to a spell: "Achm...Achma..." but ended up only wheezing instead, the gritty stone of the dungeon floor pressing far too hard for his liking into his prone form. He raised his right hand to draw a glyph in the air, but without the corresponding words of power, there was no point. It was like trying to move water with a sieve; the magic simply drained through his hand. At last, he managed to gasp the word out and draw the glyph: "Achmat." Lightning.

There were dangers associated with phrasing a spell so carelessly. With no verbal direction of what to do, the lighting he called could do whatever it pleased. And of course, it was just his luck that the spell recoiled on him. While it succeeded in launching a bolt of lightning at the man before him, it also coursed a jolt of electricity through himself. Without the grace of his shield, he was rammed forcefully back by his own magic, colliding with the opposite wall and groaning heavily. Raising his head, he looked to see if anything had come of his spell. Anything at all, barring hurting him even further.

Click!

The lightning hit the cell and fried the lock. The door swung gently open. Tahra stared for a minute before becoming resolved. Her mother had given her life for hers, she could not sit here and wallow – for her mother and for her people, she had a duty to assume the throne. In order to do that she would have to live, being hanged in the morning was now off the table.

Tahra didn’t know who the silver haired man was but she suspected he was the notorious thief. Why he was attempting to rescue her, she had no idea, but she was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“The guards will have heard the noise. I’m sorry but I must go. Come with if you like or stay; but, if the guards catch you they will assume you helped me escape.”

Tahra didn’t wait for an answer to her offer for them to follow her, instead she took off at an all-out sprint, pushing her arms out in front of her to protect her as she jumped through the plate glass window, plummeting to the river below.

Ian didn't wait to see if his surprise attack worked and was quickly trying to fumble with the keyring and find the right one. When he got it and was about to unlock the cell was when the mage's lightning hit him. What realy saved Ian was the lack of metal on him, currently the only bits he had were his daggers and the keyring, both of which acted as sort of lightning rods and redirected most of the poorly aimed attack. The keyring directed some of it to the lock since it was close and that seemed to serve the same purpose of unlocking it, but the rest hit him, and while not nearly enough to kill him, it stunned him and ultimately planted him on his ass.

Still shaking his head and recovering from the fall he saw Tahra come out of the cell, say something about the guards and coming with her, and immediately sprint off and jump out a window. Not exactly how he planned this, but then again...he didn't really plan any of this. Not wanting to wait for the mage to get back up or for guard to reach him he got up and followed Tahra with a murmur of "ugh, princesses" jumping out the same window into the river.

Dazed. Dizzy. Ultimately confused.

Avad was alll of these things.

Having been struck by lightning and bearing no metal upon him, he was badly shaken, and wasn't thinking clearly at all. His spellbook was clutched tightly to his side as though it could ward of death. Eventually, he managed to string together a few vague thoughts: Silver fox on his neck. Famous thief. Princess is gone. King is not going to be pleased.

Then he took a moment, upon regaining full thought processes, to consider what the scene looked like. Himself, a known storm mage, lying in the corridor. A lock fused and blasted off by lightning. A missing princess. None of this was any kind of evidence for his innocence, and he ground his teeth at how he'd been unwittingly manipulated by that harsh bitch Fate.

Staggering to his feet, he began to hear the sounds of sabatons clanking down the hall at a rapid pace, and made his choice. "Andom têllumar neru'un vanastel." Another cloud of fog spread from his open hand, and the footsteps slowed for the crucial moment it took for him to bring himself to his feet and back up a few paces from the window. "I'm glad you're waterproof," he murmured, stroking the spellbook, before sprinting to the formerly-glass opening and leaping through.

On the way down, he began to draw the glyph in the air for an unnaturally thick cloud to cushion his landing. Instead, he received a sharp spike of pain through his temples. "Ohhhh no..." he groaned. "I overdrew."

That was the last thing he said before plummeting into the water with an ungainly splash and promptly being nearly drowned by his robe. It was an exercise in humiliation for him to flounder to shore, his head aching incredibly badly. He stumbled, the dizziness of unrestrained magic use from that wild bolt taking its toll.

"I...hate you...so much..." he grimaced as he slogged up beside the thief.

Sergei sniffed, stretching his aching neck. A simple fishing rod was buried in the ground beneath his legs, and he reached for the bottle of liquour by his side. Pulling out the stopper with his teeth, he took a swig, and sighed, regarding his line. Fish was not a common food in his homeland, and he found the taste pleasantly exotic. Still, by that same virtue he had little knowledge of the sport, an annoyance compounded by his current lack of coin.

"Hmmmm..." He adjusted the hood concealing the scarred half of his face, and sent a silent wish to the god of money. No sooner did his eye snapped to the side as some fifteen feet to his left, a scoundrel and a mage sloshed ashore, soaked to the bone.

The knight gave a horribly wide, toothy grin at the pair.

Tahra had waded onto the bank of the river, allowing the gentle current to wash off her mother's blood. She was recognizable enough as the Princess, she didn't need to carry around her mother's blood on her armor. She was washing the last vestiges of her mother's blood out of the crevices of her steel bracer when she heard Avad slog onto the shore beside the thief. She couldn't help but laugh, falling to her knees in the shallow water she threw her head back and laughed heartily. The situation she was in was absurd. Her mother had died in her arms only hours ago, she had escaped practically on accident from the palace dungeons to avoid her father's death sentence, even though it was he who had killed the Queen. Now, after having jumped out of a plate glass window into a river, she was with two men who probably had no idea the ramifications of what had just occurred. Whether they liked it or not, and even if they parted ways at this exact moment, they would be considered her allies and condemned to death just by association.

Tahra closed her eyes and lowered her head, still kneeling in the water. Softly murmuring a prayer to the elven God, Fenmarel Mestarine - the patron of solitude, scapegoats and outcasts. She had never had much reason to pray to him before but she hoped he would hear and answer her prayer now. "A acsa ilya na- vamme aut-. Emme maure imeána.”

Tahra’s eyes flashed open and immediately locked onto the mercenary who had been fishing. He looked dangerous but she was not entirely convinced he would be dangerous to them. Slowly, she stood, painfully aware that while she was wearing armor, she currently possessed no weapons.

“We did not mean to disturb your fishing, we will just be on our way. Tahra walked over to the thief and Avad, gently pulling both men to their feet. She whispered just loud enough for them to hear. “We cannot stay so close to the castle, we will be seen and recognized, and our daring escape will have been for naught. Any ideas I would be happy to listen to.”

"Well it's a little late for that, isn't it?" Sergei stood, dusting his pants off. "All that splashing and shouting has sure to have scared the fish away."

The merenary began to saunter over, dropping his hood and throwing his cape back. "Now, look at this. You've cost a poor crippled veteran his dinner. I can't very well farm or smith with an arm like this, can I? But you, knife-ears, that armor must have caught a pretty penny. Surely you can spare some coin for an old war dog like meself?" his face drooped into a gross scowl, and he held out his hand, wriggling his thick fingers.

Ian coughed and sputtered when he finally pulled himself up to shore, and took a moment to catch his breath back after plummeting into a river. "not my worst escape..." He was actually caught of guard when he was pulled to his feet, starting and almost drawing his dagger before realizing that it was just Tahra asking for Ideas on their next move.

"heh, not even a kiss?" he joked. He still caste a sideways glance at the mage before answering "I've a hideout in the city, we should be safe there. At least for awhile, dunno if it'll stay that way if they start searching more"

Avad shouldered his way forward from the waist-deep water, grimacing in displeasure. As he stopped to consider the ex-soldier in front of him more closely, though, his brow furrowed and his eyes darted back and forth before settling on the red surcoat. His mouth dropped open a bit in recognition for a moment, and his eyes snapped up to those of the veteran.

"I recognize that crest. You were at the battle of Tabor Lei during the Erane'Vos campaign. Knights of the Western Fjords, if I'm not mistaken. Long since destroyed. I didn't know any of your order were still alive."

He pulled a small leather sack that jangled loudly from his belt, tossing it at the man. "For services to the Realm," he nodded. "I would do more, but I'm a bit drained of magic at the moment."

With that said, he turned to the Silver Fox, regarding him coldly. "No. I myself stationed guards at every entrance to the city. And trust me, I know all of them. We're not going back in there for a good long while, until things cool down a bit. Don't even try."

Finally, he turned to the Princess. "Princess, I strongly urge you to leave this criminal behind. He'll ransom you to the king for a few silver crowns in a heartbeat. No honor among thieves."

Jacques had been traveling across the bank of the river at the time. He was lost, and guessed that maybe he could find a town if he followed the river. The castle was insight finally. He knew what kingdom he was in. He knew of the royal family. If he remembered right, there was a tyrant king, an Elven Queen, and a half elf Princess. He sneered. A tyrant king. Tyrant. He hated the word. It was a disgrace of a title for somebody to have. But all that mattered to him was that this kingdom was on neutral terms with his own kingdom, Morabyus, which was currently at war. He guessed it would be smart to visit the castle as a refugee and ask for assistance.

As he rehearsed what he was going to say, his train of thought left him as he heard feminine laughter, and then some conversation. Oh boy. Actual people. Something he hadn't seen in days. The young man walked faster to come upon a party of sorts. They seemed to be in conversation. He took a closer look, still keeping hidden and silent. He examined the faces. There were maybe a couple Knights? Thieves? And...The young woman. A half elf. No. What was a princess doing at the river? He guessed he should bud in now.

"Excuse me." Began the boy,"I am Jacques of Morabyus. My deepest apologies of budding, I was on my way to the castle but...Has something happened?" He was completely oblivious to the events that had followed up to this. If there was something wrong in this kingdom, he needed to know. He needed to be prepared for any dangers that surrounded him.

Vert was going towards the river outside the city when she saw a man fishing outside of it. She was riding Steve, her steed whom she had been with his entire life. She hadn't eaten for quite awhile and wondered if she could scare him off well enough to steal whatever he had caught so far. It was hard afterall for one of her kind to scare others off. As she started to approach the man though she noticed a large splash shortly after.

Vert got off of Steve and headed towards the river, her head already off of her body, and her spinal whip attached to her hip. As she approached she looked at the group, it was quite the odd site. The woman of them certainly had strange eyebrows and ears. "Well aren't you all a sorry sight?" Vert said, her voice echoing as part of it seemed to be coming from where her head should be. "A battle mage from the looks of it, a fisherman, a rouge, and a girl with eyebrows. Alright, may as well get to work." Vert said smiling at the group her grin getting bigger inhumanly big actually as it almost touched her ears.

At this point Vert also noticed the young boy. "And a young boy comes to you all as well." Vert added as she started to reach for her spinal whip, the grin now getting toothier.

As she was about to say something though her stomach growled. "Do any of you have food? I'm not from around here and I'm also lost. I need to find an inn, preferably one with good beer." Vert said her question very different form how she approached the group. Vert adjusted her head a bit and held it up to eye level of the rest so they could see her more clearly instead of looking down all the time.

Sergei whistled, catching the meager coinpurse.
"Oh, my reputation proceeds me. And for the lady and scoundrel unacquainted, I am Sergei. Lord Sergei Dolvanov, Knight-General of the Crimson Hounds." he gave a flourish fo a bow. "That's quite good, yes. And tell me, wizard, if you saw my shock team route that cavalry in Tabor Lei, perhaps you've heard of our siege of Nightvell Castle, or the heads I took when my own homelands had a civil war?"

Giving a horribly toothy grin, he used his stump to throw his cape over his shoulder. "I'm only half blind, and I can tell that you're quite desperate to flee, if you're not bothering to dry off after leaving the river. So I'll tell you what: this can be my dinner, but toss in a little extra, and I'll loan you my sword hand. What say you? There's no honor among thieves, but a knight's word is his bond."
His eyes narrowed, gleaming with excitement. "And without a Lord to follow, I'd gladly fend off the coming guardsmen tonight if you'd pay me, say.... a single silver coin? Surely your safety is worth that much."

Stephanie groaned as she glared at the road ahead of her, her palms moist and hot from holding the leather reins of the horse all day as it meandered towards Valstand castle, towing her thankfully well-shaded wagon. Because she hauled a variety of goods, it was always important to have quality wagon covering in case of rain. Well, that and the fact that it was a good deal more comfortable than having the sun beat down on you all day. She quickly perked up, however, as she approached the castle, wanting to put on a nice face for her customers-to-be. She was a charmer, and her face had to be at maximum cuteness if she wanted to sell the numskulls crap they didn't need for twice what it was worth.

As she forced a sweet smile onto her face, however, she came upon quite the sight. A group of people, half of whom were drenched, parked by the riverside. Stephanie held her reins tight and pulled back, her horse slowing down as they approached. Surely they needed overpriced clothing or washrags or else they'd catch cold!

"Hail and well met," Stephanie called out, her horse coming to a stop aside the group, "I couldn't help but notice that some of your number are moistened. Well no more! I have clothing! I have washrags! All for a very reasonable-"

And then she noticed the Dullahan. An evil spirit by any measure, who are said to take the lives of travelers on the roadside. Oh, but Stephanie was too young and beautiful to be cut down so viciously in her prime! She shrieked, and jumped into the back of her wagon, scrounging around for a weapon as her horse, George, fed calmly on some nearby grass.

Avad grinned lopsidedly. "A single silver coin? Please. Who do you take me for?" He dug into one of his numerous belt pouches, taking out three golden crowns.

Which was a lot of money.

He tossed them to Sergei. "I wasn't present for your civil war, but I remember Nightvell. You fight well. It's worth the money, and at least until I can clear my name, I'm going to need all the help I can get."

Then a headless person wearing a spine walked up. And Avad was...startled.

"Achmat adalber malakelta eirinn verelest oine'in!" Ignoring the pulsing pain in his head, he traced the glyph in the air, letting a blast of elemental lightning surge forth from his palm. It was rare for him to use combat magic of that potency; it was, in fact, very likely that it was the first time anybody there had seen him using a spell that powerful. A little known fact, mostly only known by mages, was that the more words in a spell, the more powerful it was. The usually run-of-the-mill spell was four words. Six? Six was preposterous.

The immensely powerful magic surged away from him, and his eyesight flickered briefly before dimming entirely. As his headache multiplied ten...twenty-fold, he fell over sideways, gasping for air.

Ian was about to response to the mage's remark about the city hideaway, but before he could yet another person stumbled upon their group and then, in what became a rather eventful five minutes, they were then joined by a person holding up there own head which startled a traveling merchant that was stopping by and then the Royal mage shot lightning in her direction after just paying a mercenary that was fishing in the river they had just come out of. This was really coming to be quite the spectacle.

But of course, given the situation, they could not remain for long. He tapped the princess on the shoulder again to regain her attention "We clearly cannot stay here, especially with this sort of excitement brewing up. The mage puts far too much faith in his guards, from the city to the border I can get you where you want to go, you need only pick a direction" While he didn't outwardly show it, he was getting a little anxious to move on and get away from the castle.

Tahra could not believe what was happening, there was now definitely too many people. She looked back over her shoulder towards the window she had jumped out of, the guards were looking out, and trying to figure out what direction she had gone.

Tahra turned her head towards the thief, he had tapped her shoulder to get her attention. “You get me somewhere safe and you can have all the kisses you want.” She referenced the joke he had made earlier.

Despite being a Princess, she had trained as a warrior, trying to be the male heir her father had wanted. Though, now she supposed he had never wanted an heir – just a son. She stooped down and hoisted Avad over her shoulder, she would not leave him behind, not for anything. “Come on, the covered wagon will hide the more recognizable of us. We can take it somewhere safe without being seen. Avad needs to rest, he used too much magic in too short a period. Our new acquaintances will have to decide for themselves if they wish to tag along, they are in the same predicament as us however. I will not turn away anyone’s help, or throw anyone to the wolves, I’ll protect any with me to my last breath. It is my fault we’re in this mess.”

She managed to get Avad safely tucked into the covered wagon if a bit awkwardly with the merchant hiding in the back. “I apologize for commandeering your wagon for a time and if necessary I can provide you with a full explanation once we have found a safe place to stop. I am Princess Tahra Styrka. Judging from your wares you were coming to my birthday party; unfortunately, it has been cancelled after my mother’s murder. I will see that you are reimbursed for your troubles.”

She turned her attention back to the thief. “I apologize for waiting to introduce myself, you may call me Tahra. I am certain my father will have stripped my title by now. Please, take us somewhere where Avad can rest safely. We can plan our next move from there, should you be so inclined to remain in my company at that time, Silver Fox.”