<Snipped quote by vancexentan>
I'm cool with whatever. She could come and help in the fight against Rayla if you want that :D
You could get some info out of Marcino...on how to beat his girl friend.....JS lol
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You could get some info out of Marcino...on how to beat his girl friend.....JS lol
Arn’s face was relaxed as he listened to the plan laid out by the ex Knight. There was truth and logic in the course of action that was suggested. There would be definitely be answers to the questions. They may not be hard to find but history and heritage are not so easily erased in a few hundred years. People tend to hold on to what makes them unique. Culture is something that can’t truly be removed from the hearts and minds of people. Indeed, empires do best when they harness and incorporate such differences instead of trying to rip them from those conquered. There will always be secret part that cannot be truly quelled.
The challenge would be more in getting these secrets to be told rather than finding the secret holder. Arn was sure that any who held such knowledge would guard it zealously. He hoped that disclosing he lineage and the suffering that Eilis had to endure, would win some favor and support of any remaining Rhevendahli.
The master mage relayed his own assurances via a comforting squeeze on Eilis’s tender shoulders. Uilles made too much damn sense and was much too prepared for this plan. Almost as if he had years to plan rather than hours. While the mage hated to be bound by something like destiny or fate, it was hard for him to logically explain how his meeting with Captain Venray, Eilis and now the famous Uilles could be otherwise explained. One thing about fate however, is that it pushed you towards your prescribed end regardless of how you felt and there was nothing you could do to stop it.
Arn almost smiled at the request/command. The man before him had lost none of his authority and gravitas. He pitied the man who would assume that the cane in his hand made Uilles defenseless. Still, even if it had not been a disguised command, the mage knew Tyrhallan would have still obeyed and aquiesed his uncle’s request. The trust that the nephew had for the ex Knight in itself fostered trust and respect from those who knew Tyrhallan.
The master mage helped Eilis stand and willingly held her hand in reassurance and in a small part not wanting to be separated from her. He knew however, that there was a reason for the private audience and more or less could guess that it had to do with a warning or two regarding Eilis and her powers. He finally let go of her hand as he passed her on to the Knight Captain and he nodded his thanks to the silver haired man.
He owed much to the man and he would not be able to pay him back in a hundred lifetimes. The pair departed and Arn looked at the closed door a for a couple of seconds. He felt the need to prevent any further harm to come to them. He knew that Tyrhallan would fault him for thinking this way but the master mage could not help but want to atone for the injuries the man had sustained due to his lack of power.
His eyes returned to the elder Venray. In them was nothings sort of steely commitment. Arn approached the man with measured steps filled with purpose. It almost felt like going out on missions with his orders being delivered. Evander had hated that a low ranking member of the Shootings stars also be present for briefings. However, the squad members were glad because it meant that the orders would be carried out by someone who actually knew how to command.
As he took the book that was offered to him, Arn could feel the ex Captain study him. Only a fool or a blind man would miss how much attention and protection the mage gave the refugee girl. It seemed that Uilles had not desire to keep his thoughts and evaluation to himself and presented his misgivings to the Master Mage.
On the other hand, there was nothing that Arn intended to hide either. He nodded his acknowledgement of the warning and concern and provided his own response. “You are indeed correct in your assessment Lord Venray. Eilis has come to be a very important part of me. Your knowledge of a mage’s ability to Mind Meld is commendable. We have indeed experienced a mind meld and there are times when I am unsure if the feelings that course through me are mine or an echo of hers. I have committed myself to analyzing these feelings versus repressing them. For I believe that my connection to Lady Eilis would be a better guide and gauge of the situation that if I just dismissed or distrusted them. However, your warning is understood and appreciated. Please be assured that even if you are correct in your discerning that I would gladly lay down my life for hers, it will not be done recklessly. After all, my aim is to free her. At the same time, I am also aware of the potential benefit and damage she poses as a military asset. Let me dispel the notion that I will ever allow her to be used in such a manner. My aim is for her to be free of the bindings and be free of the control of whatever being that desires her power.”
Arn’s face did not change, nor his anger rose at the mention of the need to kill Eilis. This was an ever present thought in his mind. The struggle was always constant. Not because he could not bring himself to do it but because he did not know if he would know when the moment was right.
The master mage’s eyes opened slightly at the sudden charge of the elder man. His face was slightly confused but soon the other man’s words explained the sentiment. Arn’s face remained calm but his eyes softened and projected understanding. As the ex knight moved away, the mage explained in a professional but firm voice.
“You are right to deliver such warnings and concerns. Allow me to dispel any erroneous notion. My loyalty has never been to Belisio. I was not given a choice when I was drafted. I have no heritage of military service. Indeed, I have no stake in the survival or defeat of the kingdom. However, my loyalties lie with my squad mates, Captain Venray, Lady Eilis, and also to your family.” He took a deep breath and continued. “That being said, no, I would not sacrifice lives for my own selfish desires. My need of her does not trump the lives of others. If at any point myself or Eilis, the Eilis I know, is lost then my life will be the only one that shall be wagered and expended.”
He moved closer and his voice had an fraternal tone to it. “You are an honorable man, Lord Venray. Such quality reverberates through the entire family. I vow upon what little weight my word has that I will do all in my power to ensure the trust Captain Tyrhalllan, Eilis and yourself have placed upon me will not be in vain. I will see this through.”
Arn bowed to Uilles with great deference. “If you would excuse me Lord Venray. I believe there is much to prepare for the road ahead.” He turned around smartly and made his way to the door. His steps were strong and confident. He had searched for meaning his entire life. He had thrown himself into battles head long. Only in the proximity of death had he felt a small semblance of life. However, this was different. His entire life had led to this moment. He would see this mission through. He would see Eilis free and the Venray’s trust in him fulfilled.
The master mage left the room with the pensive ex knight at the window and made his way to the gardens. His resolve firm as he knew that he would have to reassure his lovely protégé that what needed to be done was necessary. She would trust him of course and he would repay that trust. His hand tightened on the lovingly worn diary in his hands. He would see this through or would die a thousand deaths trying.
The challenge would be more in getting these secrets to be told rather than finding the secret holder. Arn was sure that any who held such knowledge would guard it zealously. He hoped that disclosing he lineage and the suffering that Eilis had to endure, would win some favor and support of any remaining Rhevendahli.
The master mage relayed his own assurances via a comforting squeeze on Eilis’s tender shoulders. Uilles made too much damn sense and was much too prepared for this plan. Almost as if he had years to plan rather than hours. While the mage hated to be bound by something like destiny or fate, it was hard for him to logically explain how his meeting with Captain Venray, Eilis and now the famous Uilles could be otherwise explained. One thing about fate however, is that it pushed you towards your prescribed end regardless of how you felt and there was nothing you could do to stop it.
Arn almost smiled at the request/command. The man before him had lost none of his authority and gravitas. He pitied the man who would assume that the cane in his hand made Uilles defenseless. Still, even if it had not been a disguised command, the mage knew Tyrhallan would have still obeyed and aquiesed his uncle’s request. The trust that the nephew had for the ex Knight in itself fostered trust and respect from those who knew Tyrhallan.
The master mage helped Eilis stand and willingly held her hand in reassurance and in a small part not wanting to be separated from her. He knew however, that there was a reason for the private audience and more or less could guess that it had to do with a warning or two regarding Eilis and her powers. He finally let go of her hand as he passed her on to the Knight Captain and he nodded his thanks to the silver haired man.
He owed much to the man and he would not be able to pay him back in a hundred lifetimes. The pair departed and Arn looked at the closed door a for a couple of seconds. He felt the need to prevent any further harm to come to them. He knew that Tyrhallan would fault him for thinking this way but the master mage could not help but want to atone for the injuries the man had sustained due to his lack of power.
His eyes returned to the elder Venray. In them was nothings sort of steely commitment. Arn approached the man with measured steps filled with purpose. It almost felt like going out on missions with his orders being delivered. Evander had hated that a low ranking member of the Shootings stars also be present for briefings. However, the squad members were glad because it meant that the orders would be carried out by someone who actually knew how to command.
As he took the book that was offered to him, Arn could feel the ex Captain study him. Only a fool or a blind man would miss how much attention and protection the mage gave the refugee girl. It seemed that Uilles had not desire to keep his thoughts and evaluation to himself and presented his misgivings to the Master Mage.
On the other hand, there was nothing that Arn intended to hide either. He nodded his acknowledgement of the warning and concern and provided his own response. “You are indeed correct in your assessment Lord Venray. Eilis has come to be a very important part of me. Your knowledge of a mage’s ability to Mind Meld is commendable. We have indeed experienced a mind meld and there are times when I am unsure if the feelings that course through me are mine or an echo of hers. I have committed myself to analyzing these feelings versus repressing them. For I believe that my connection to Lady Eilis would be a better guide and gauge of the situation that if I just dismissed or distrusted them. However, your warning is understood and appreciated. Please be assured that even if you are correct in your discerning that I would gladly lay down my life for hers, it will not be done recklessly. After all, my aim is to free her. At the same time, I am also aware of the potential benefit and damage she poses as a military asset. Let me dispel the notion that I will ever allow her to be used in such a manner. My aim is for her to be free of the bindings and be free of the control of whatever being that desires her power.”
Arn’s face did not change, nor his anger rose at the mention of the need to kill Eilis. This was an ever present thought in his mind. The struggle was always constant. Not because he could not bring himself to do it but because he did not know if he would know when the moment was right.
The master mage’s eyes opened slightly at the sudden charge of the elder man. His face was slightly confused but soon the other man’s words explained the sentiment. Arn’s face remained calm but his eyes softened and projected understanding. As the ex knight moved away, the mage explained in a professional but firm voice.
“You are right to deliver such warnings and concerns. Allow me to dispel any erroneous notion. My loyalty has never been to Belisio. I was not given a choice when I was drafted. I have no heritage of military service. Indeed, I have no stake in the survival or defeat of the kingdom. However, my loyalties lie with my squad mates, Captain Venray, Lady Eilis, and also to your family.” He took a deep breath and continued. “That being said, no, I would not sacrifice lives for my own selfish desires. My need of her does not trump the lives of others. If at any point myself or Eilis, the Eilis I know, is lost then my life will be the only one that shall be wagered and expended.”
He moved closer and his voice had an fraternal tone to it. “You are an honorable man, Lord Venray. Such quality reverberates through the entire family. I vow upon what little weight my word has that I will do all in my power to ensure the trust Captain Tyrhalllan, Eilis and yourself have placed upon me will not be in vain. I will see this through.”
Arn bowed to Uilles with great deference. “If you would excuse me Lord Venray. I believe there is much to prepare for the road ahead.” He turned around smartly and made his way to the door. His steps were strong and confident. He had searched for meaning his entire life. He had thrown himself into battles head long. Only in the proximity of death had he felt a small semblance of life. However, this was different. His entire life had led to this moment. He would see this mission through. He would see Eilis free and the Venray’s trust in him fulfilled.
The master mage left the room with the pensive ex knight at the window and made his way to the gardens. His resolve firm as he knew that he would have to reassure his lovely protégé that what needed to be done was necessary. She would trust him of course and he would repay that trust. His hand tightened on the lovingly worn diary in his hands. He would see this through or would die a thousand deaths trying.
The Shield Hero stood there a few steps to the left of Cole. He could feel the pressure in the room and could feel the acidity in the words or challenge coming from Rayla. The woman sure had a personality. He wondered why a woman like that had taken to being a bandit. While he assumed that life in the Colosseum was not a rainbows and roses, what had driven her to preying on innocent. Rough as he was, Marcino still seemed to have a sort of morals. As she spoke of the king, a thought formed in Fer’s mind. Was there a hidden story between this bandit chief and the king? After all, it was still a weird matter that they had sent the Four Heroes (or two at least) to track down a common bandit shortage of soldiers or not. Did the king need her silenced? The young hero groaned inwardly. He hated politics.
Apparently, the bandit chief’s words triggered Cole as the young man send forth the devastating attack he knew. It could also be that his fellow hero wanted to end things quickly. That hope was quickly dashed as the Rayla effortlessly countered an attack that would have felled others. Fer grimaced his discontent, yes this definitely would not be an easy fight.
Even Fer was caught by surprise when his companion rushed forward. Perhaps the strain of so much death and the long list of crimes as Cole had stated, had weighed on his fellow hero’s heart. The shield cursed under his breath as he saw the two blades meet and it was easy to see that Rayla had the upper hand. It was times like this that he hated the fact that he was basically useless in a fight other than support. Cole was doing his best but the truth of the matter was that even both of them combined would be hard pressed to beat the woman.
Despite this, there was no other option but to fight. Fer launched himself forward too. He moves over to her unprotected side as she is trying to fend off Cole and using the edge of his shield, he swipes at her knees trying to knock her off her feet. At the same time he gathers as handful of dirt with the aim to throw it at her face given the opportunity.
At the very least, he could provide a secondary target that would draw the attention of the bandit chief allowing Cole to capitalize on the harassment provided by Fer. The plan was way too simple but pending any sort of support from either Marcino or Auriel, the pair had a hard fight in their hands.
Apparently, the bandit chief’s words triggered Cole as the young man send forth the devastating attack he knew. It could also be that his fellow hero wanted to end things quickly. That hope was quickly dashed as the Rayla effortlessly countered an attack that would have felled others. Fer grimaced his discontent, yes this definitely would not be an easy fight.
Even Fer was caught by surprise when his companion rushed forward. Perhaps the strain of so much death and the long list of crimes as Cole had stated, had weighed on his fellow hero’s heart. The shield cursed under his breath as he saw the two blades meet and it was easy to see that Rayla had the upper hand. It was times like this that he hated the fact that he was basically useless in a fight other than support. Cole was doing his best but the truth of the matter was that even both of them combined would be hard pressed to beat the woman.
Despite this, there was no other option but to fight. Fer launched himself forward too. He moves over to her unprotected side as she is trying to fend off Cole and using the edge of his shield, he swipes at her knees trying to knock her off her feet. At the same time he gathers as handful of dirt with the aim to throw it at her face given the opportunity.
At the very least, he could provide a secondary target that would draw the attention of the bandit chief allowing Cole to capitalize on the harassment provided by Fer. The plan was way too simple but pending any sort of support from either Marcino or Auriel, the pair had a hard fight in their hands.
His lungs began to burn with the strain of supplying oxygen to his body. Each rhythmic breath fueling the fire and dryness of his throat. His legs began to feel heavy and not only because of the armor. Each step making the dwarf feel as if his legs would buckle. The sand of the arena did not help as it challenged him in keeping his balance on the randomly shifting ground. His shoulders and his neck began to ache from the weight and movement of the armor he wore. No amount of practical design and centuries of trial and error would completely do away with the strain of wearing protection. By all means many would consider the evolution cruel and unusual punishment….HE LOVED IT!.
This he knew. This he understood. Years upon years at the mercy of a (probably deranged) strict drill sergeant doing seemingly pointless and demeaning tasks had prepared him for this day. The young cadet felt so at ease that despite the protest from his lungs, he even began to chant one of their cadence songs under his breath as his stubby legs kept beat.
“Under Mountain Halls
Deep in caverns Below
When the hammers falls
When the war drum’s roll
All true dwarven bred
Shall listen to the call
So march, March
You lazy bastards
March
We’ve gone one mile
But there are more to go
So
A’ marchin we shall goooo
The ring of steel
The crash of shields
Will be the melody
Our iron will
On glory fields
Shall be our victory
So march, March
You lazy bastards
March
We’ve gone one mile
But there’re more to go
So
A marchin we shall goo
When the fightin’s done
The mead and food shall flow
Well honor those who’ve gone
Their deeds all shall know
So raise a mug and gulp it down
Its time for another round
So MarchYou lazy bastards
March
We’ve gone one mile
But there are more to go
So
A’ marchin we shall goooo”
There were many more colorful and objectionable verses but the cleric in training decided perhaps that was best left for more appropriate company. His pace never changed. People passed him and others fell behind. He stayed consistent through the whole run. After all, his mentality was on that of survival. This was not merely a class to him, this was a reminder that in battle a flashy kill or a lucky kill is still a kill.
After seven laps, the impressive man in shining armor called for the group to stop. The young dwarf almost let out a chuckle as the instructor announced that was only a warm up. There were many grumbles and groans from many of the students. Arn shook his head secretly. No matter how he felt about it, he would never volunteer his feelings. His drill sergeant always used to say “Careful with your moanin…it makes the one who is fucking you that much more excited.”
Arn lumbered over to where the head of his maul had been left. The locked the javelin shaft in place and walked back just before the start of the demonstration. He was a bit disappointed when the demonstration was not given by Vermont. He wanted to see him in action as the dwarf felt he was the most closest to his fighting style.
However, eye catching as the Drow might bet, despite the clerics vehement self denial that he found Instructor Maya dangerously attractive, what mesmerized him more was the way she danced. This was not a fighting style, this was an art form. The ease of movement and the precise placement of every block, and strike. It was like watching Maya perform a deadly dance. The mannequin, one after the other, fell until there was only one.
For some reason, perhaps because the attacker sported almost the same weapon as he, Arn felt like it was he who now faced the deadly beauty. What shocked him the most was that the stance and the way the weapon was held matched very much his own fighting school techniques. A chill went down his spine. It was unreal watching the mannequin move as it was moves that the cadet himself would have attempted against a sword wielder.
Sweat ran down his face as he watched transfixed how easily the woman avoided strikes that were well thought of and efficient from the maul wielder. He swallowed secretly willing the maul to make contact with her lovely dark skin. More as a way of self-assurance that he, Arn, stood a chance. His hopes were dashed when the instructor flawlessly delivered a devastating kick. The very audible crack as the head got separated from the body made the young dwarf feel sick. Almost as if he had been the one whose head had flown off.
He was standing on the opposite side of Vermont and the dark armored Valencia as he watched the head flew in his direction. The young cleric was so transfixed he swore that the head looked like his own. It was not until the wooden head fell to the ground harmlessly that he was released from the spell.
Arn looked up with new admiration towards the dark elf. Her ever present smile even more powerful. Indeed, the dwarf more than pitied anyone or anything who ever made her change that beautiful smile adorning her face into a sad or angry semblance. Not only because her fury would be hotter than all the hells in existence but because he was sure the masked archer and Vermont would probably have a hand in it too.
“Right, who’s ready to start?”
The young dwarf gladly moved over to an unoccupied mannequin, this one had sword and shield. Arn performed a bit of stretching and loosening up prior to the confrontation. He released the mechanisms attaching his heather shield to his back and hefted the maul. The creepy glowing eyes of the mannequin regarding him emotionless.
“Student Arn Thurson, are you ready to commence assessment and beginner routine?” The voice seemed to be disembodied and monotone. How unnerving it would be to fight a whole army of these. Even undead groaned and shuffled along. The young cadet took a breath and nodded firmly replying . “Yes, I am ready please commence.”
The fighting dummy promptly complied as it launched itself forward sword swinging perfectly horizontal aiming at the maul side of Arn probably thinking that the big weapon would be too slow to parry the blow. At least it was right in that he dwarf would not parry the blow. One of the advantages of being short is that many fighters aimed based on their own height. Taking this into consideration, Arn merely crouched about a foot, raised his shield to slightly deflect the attacker’s sword and as he stood up, swung his own maul at the dummy’s leg just behind the knee. The grip on the maul would relax as Arn allowed the weight and momentum of the swing to slide the shaft forward in his hand in order to cover the gap between them.
Just as they were promised, the mannequin lifted its leg just in time to avoid the strike. However, Arn had expected this and pivoting on his maul hand leg he continued to spin as he came up to a standing position and then aimed the swinging head at the lower back of the automated fighting instrument. Caught with his leg up and off balance, the hammer connected just enough to send the dummy rolling forward. It did not cause much damage because as soon as the dummy felt the maul connect he had started the forward dive roll.
The contraption finished its move facing Arn in a sort of kneeling position with shield just below his eyes and the sword pointed at the dwarf to defend and counter any follow up attack. With an approving grunt and a smirk on his face, the young cleric acknowledged the fighting capability of the mannequin. Would it not be for the fact that the contraption was faceless with only two glowing eyes, the young dwarf would have sworn he was fighting a living being not one powered by mysterious magic. He took a deep breath and adjusting his grip he rushed forward one single though running through his head. “This is going to be more enjoyable than I thought.”
This he knew. This he understood. Years upon years at the mercy of a (probably deranged) strict drill sergeant doing seemingly pointless and demeaning tasks had prepared him for this day. The young cadet felt so at ease that despite the protest from his lungs, he even began to chant one of their cadence songs under his breath as his stubby legs kept beat.
“Under Mountain Halls
Deep in caverns Below
When the hammers falls
When the war drum’s roll
All true dwarven bred
Shall listen to the call
So march, March
You lazy bastards
March
We’ve gone one mile
But there are more to go
So
A’ marchin we shall goooo
The ring of steel
The crash of shields
Will be the melody
Our iron will
On glory fields
Shall be our victory
So march, March
You lazy bastards
March
We’ve gone one mile
But there’re more to go
So
A marchin we shall goo
When the fightin’s done
The mead and food shall flow
Well honor those who’ve gone
Their deeds all shall know
So raise a mug and gulp it down
Its time for another round
So MarchYou lazy bastards
March
We’ve gone one mile
But there are more to go
So
A’ marchin we shall goooo”
There were many more colorful and objectionable verses but the cleric in training decided perhaps that was best left for more appropriate company. His pace never changed. People passed him and others fell behind. He stayed consistent through the whole run. After all, his mentality was on that of survival. This was not merely a class to him, this was a reminder that in battle a flashy kill or a lucky kill is still a kill.
After seven laps, the impressive man in shining armor called for the group to stop. The young dwarf almost let out a chuckle as the instructor announced that was only a warm up. There were many grumbles and groans from many of the students. Arn shook his head secretly. No matter how he felt about it, he would never volunteer his feelings. His drill sergeant always used to say “Careful with your moanin…it makes the one who is fucking you that much more excited.”
Arn lumbered over to where the head of his maul had been left. The locked the javelin shaft in place and walked back just before the start of the demonstration. He was a bit disappointed when the demonstration was not given by Vermont. He wanted to see him in action as the dwarf felt he was the most closest to his fighting style.
However, eye catching as the Drow might bet, despite the clerics vehement self denial that he found Instructor Maya dangerously attractive, what mesmerized him more was the way she danced. This was not a fighting style, this was an art form. The ease of movement and the precise placement of every block, and strike. It was like watching Maya perform a deadly dance. The mannequin, one after the other, fell until there was only one.
For some reason, perhaps because the attacker sported almost the same weapon as he, Arn felt like it was he who now faced the deadly beauty. What shocked him the most was that the stance and the way the weapon was held matched very much his own fighting school techniques. A chill went down his spine. It was unreal watching the mannequin move as it was moves that the cadet himself would have attempted against a sword wielder.
Sweat ran down his face as he watched transfixed how easily the woman avoided strikes that were well thought of and efficient from the maul wielder. He swallowed secretly willing the maul to make contact with her lovely dark skin. More as a way of self-assurance that he, Arn, stood a chance. His hopes were dashed when the instructor flawlessly delivered a devastating kick. The very audible crack as the head got separated from the body made the young dwarf feel sick. Almost as if he had been the one whose head had flown off.
He was standing on the opposite side of Vermont and the dark armored Valencia as he watched the head flew in his direction. The young cleric was so transfixed he swore that the head looked like his own. It was not until the wooden head fell to the ground harmlessly that he was released from the spell.
Arn looked up with new admiration towards the dark elf. Her ever present smile even more powerful. Indeed, the dwarf more than pitied anyone or anything who ever made her change that beautiful smile adorning her face into a sad or angry semblance. Not only because her fury would be hotter than all the hells in existence but because he was sure the masked archer and Vermont would probably have a hand in it too.
“Right, who’s ready to start?”
The young dwarf gladly moved over to an unoccupied mannequin, this one had sword and shield. Arn performed a bit of stretching and loosening up prior to the confrontation. He released the mechanisms attaching his heather shield to his back and hefted the maul. The creepy glowing eyes of the mannequin regarding him emotionless.
“Student Arn Thurson, are you ready to commence assessment and beginner routine?” The voice seemed to be disembodied and monotone. How unnerving it would be to fight a whole army of these. Even undead groaned and shuffled along. The young cadet took a breath and nodded firmly replying . “Yes, I am ready please commence.”
The fighting dummy promptly complied as it launched itself forward sword swinging perfectly horizontal aiming at the maul side of Arn probably thinking that the big weapon would be too slow to parry the blow. At least it was right in that he dwarf would not parry the blow. One of the advantages of being short is that many fighters aimed based on their own height. Taking this into consideration, Arn merely crouched about a foot, raised his shield to slightly deflect the attacker’s sword and as he stood up, swung his own maul at the dummy’s leg just behind the knee. The grip on the maul would relax as Arn allowed the weight and momentum of the swing to slide the shaft forward in his hand in order to cover the gap between them.
Just as they were promised, the mannequin lifted its leg just in time to avoid the strike. However, Arn had expected this and pivoting on his maul hand leg he continued to spin as he came up to a standing position and then aimed the swinging head at the lower back of the automated fighting instrument. Caught with his leg up and off balance, the hammer connected just enough to send the dummy rolling forward. It did not cause much damage because as soon as the dummy felt the maul connect he had started the forward dive roll.
The contraption finished its move facing Arn in a sort of kneeling position with shield just below his eyes and the sword pointed at the dwarf to defend and counter any follow up attack. With an approving grunt and a smirk on his face, the young cleric acknowledged the fighting capability of the mannequin. Would it not be for the fact that the contraption was faceless with only two glowing eyes, the young dwarf would have sworn he was fighting a living being not one powered by mysterious magic. He took a deep breath and adjusting his grip he rushed forward one single though running through his head. “This is going to be more enjoyable than I thought.”
The Master Mage stood behind Eilis. His body again acting involuntarily but not unwelcomed as it radiated soft waves of heat spreading from the tips of his fingers through out her body. Despite what the young woman may be thinking, he was actually using her to anchor himself. Listening to the elder Venray speak made his head feel dizzy. The pit of his stomach did little to provide any substance. He knew that a decision needed to be made. He knew that Eilis would turn to him for answers. Answers that were as fleeting as the wisps of water particles so valuable to they hydro harvesters.
Yet like those particles, the answers that could be gathered could be the difference between life and death. His he could live with but hers…. His body shivered despite the warmth it was radiating. He swallowed hard. He needed to be the infamous battlemage now, the Hellspawn.
She needed him to be strong. She needed him to light her path and push back the darkness. She needed him to be the cleansing fire and the raging flame that would turn her enemies to ash. His eyes glowed with a conviction that he had not felt in a long time. His soul hungered for the opportunity to be of use.
He looked down at her golden head. What better use for him than to make sure that such a lovely being, who had experienced nothing but pain and darkness, could live free and enjoy the blessings of the sun.
Arn had parallel thoughts to the Ex Knight. While her innate abilities were indeed worthy of recognition and of considerable power as witnessed by the refugee who had assisted the doctor on board the Auriel’s Blessing. Yet despite this, why was she being targeted by mages or Aether users that were just as powerful or perhaps more powerful than he.
When it was revealed that there was a similarity between her and the Sorcerer King Arn felt the pit in his stomach grow to a chasm. Could the empire be in search of a descendant of the dreaded mage? Had they found one and needed others such as Eilis to be servants or support for this new would be king? What if instead, she had been limited or controlled to prevent her from becoming a threat?
The thoughts in his mind made his head spin, which did not help the feeling of dizziness already starting to settle in his it.
“But I don’t want to be a weapon.”
Arn squeezed her shoulders comfortingly. A reassurance that he would not let her be used that way. If she was to be a weapon, then she would be joined to him as bow and arrow like they had promised. She would not be alone and he hoped that she would know that.
As Ullies explained their gathered data, the master mage was not surprised that the empire had dealt with an inside threat by assimilation or extermination. In this manner, but in a slightly different manner, Belisio has ensured that only those loyal to them are retained. This would have been the destiny of the Hellspawn.
When Arn had rejected the very coveted position at court as the assistant of the Vice Arch mage, he had painted a target on his back as a person to watch and not necessarily in the good sense. His lack of blind acceptance had revealed him to be a free thinker and devoid of greed or family which meant he could not be manipulated. In their eyes, the best thing for him to do was to die in the service of the kingdom.
His eyes narrowed at the audacity, if that indeed was what the empire had in store for her. His eyes met Uilles’s. He mentally communicated to the man that no matter what the Empires aim was, he would not allow any harm to befall his charge. The millisecond connection was broken by Tyrhallan and the follow up explanation of the mysterious book in the elder Venray’s hand.
The explanation made Arn long to read the book. He had read tales of the old world before the Shattering. However, scholars tended to lead the narrative or perspective to meet whatever need or view they had. Personal journals tended to have a more down to earth data that could be more accurate than the data that was presented by commercial writters.
Something in the master mage’s memory pinged at the mention of Aether weavers, more advanced mages than those that practice Stitching. He could also swear that he had read somewhere about the Mound of the All mother. However, it miay have been on a religious book which is why he did not take too much notice. After all, religious types were often labeling places holy for one reason or another. Rarely, however, the strong Aether focus could be also a holy site.
At the suggeston that Eilis should come back to the place she risked her life to escape almost caused a reaction from Arn. However, his logical side, which had taken a back seat to the newly birthed emotional side demanded attention. What Uilles was proposing was the most logical outcome. Running away and hiding only deterred or delayed Eilis being captured. Only by finding a way to actually remove her bindings, and hopefully in this way remove the parasitical shadow being in her Thread could she truly be free.
“No…” Her voice spoke trembling in horror. “Don’t take me back…”
He held her hand tenderly. He sighed. Perhaps she would hate him but he could live with her eternal disdain if he was able to free her and allowe her to live a life that would be sans dark haired witches nipping at her heels.
He took a deep breath and then spoke, both to her and loud enough for men to hear. “No one will force you to go anywhere. But please, allow Lord Venray to finish his explanation. There is not harm in considering all options. One thing that is certain is that you are much too valuable and I would rather that value be due to the fullness you bring to people’s lives than that placed by the greed of others.”
The master mage turned to Uilles. “I assume my lord. You have a suggested course of action in mind?”
Yet like those particles, the answers that could be gathered could be the difference between life and death. His he could live with but hers…. His body shivered despite the warmth it was radiating. He swallowed hard. He needed to be the infamous battlemage now, the Hellspawn.
She needed him to be strong. She needed him to light her path and push back the darkness. She needed him to be the cleansing fire and the raging flame that would turn her enemies to ash. His eyes glowed with a conviction that he had not felt in a long time. His soul hungered for the opportunity to be of use.
He looked down at her golden head. What better use for him than to make sure that such a lovely being, who had experienced nothing but pain and darkness, could live free and enjoy the blessings of the sun.
Arn had parallel thoughts to the Ex Knight. While her innate abilities were indeed worthy of recognition and of considerable power as witnessed by the refugee who had assisted the doctor on board the Auriel’s Blessing. Yet despite this, why was she being targeted by mages or Aether users that were just as powerful or perhaps more powerful than he.
When it was revealed that there was a similarity between her and the Sorcerer King Arn felt the pit in his stomach grow to a chasm. Could the empire be in search of a descendant of the dreaded mage? Had they found one and needed others such as Eilis to be servants or support for this new would be king? What if instead, she had been limited or controlled to prevent her from becoming a threat?
The thoughts in his mind made his head spin, which did not help the feeling of dizziness already starting to settle in his it.
“But I don’t want to be a weapon.”
Arn squeezed her shoulders comfortingly. A reassurance that he would not let her be used that way. If she was to be a weapon, then she would be joined to him as bow and arrow like they had promised. She would not be alone and he hoped that she would know that.
As Ullies explained their gathered data, the master mage was not surprised that the empire had dealt with an inside threat by assimilation or extermination. In this manner, but in a slightly different manner, Belisio has ensured that only those loyal to them are retained. This would have been the destiny of the Hellspawn.
When Arn had rejected the very coveted position at court as the assistant of the Vice Arch mage, he had painted a target on his back as a person to watch and not necessarily in the good sense. His lack of blind acceptance had revealed him to be a free thinker and devoid of greed or family which meant he could not be manipulated. In their eyes, the best thing for him to do was to die in the service of the kingdom.
His eyes narrowed at the audacity, if that indeed was what the empire had in store for her. His eyes met Uilles’s. He mentally communicated to the man that no matter what the Empires aim was, he would not allow any harm to befall his charge. The millisecond connection was broken by Tyrhallan and the follow up explanation of the mysterious book in the elder Venray’s hand.
The explanation made Arn long to read the book. He had read tales of the old world before the Shattering. However, scholars tended to lead the narrative or perspective to meet whatever need or view they had. Personal journals tended to have a more down to earth data that could be more accurate than the data that was presented by commercial writters.
Something in the master mage’s memory pinged at the mention of Aether weavers, more advanced mages than those that practice Stitching. He could also swear that he had read somewhere about the Mound of the All mother. However, it miay have been on a religious book which is why he did not take too much notice. After all, religious types were often labeling places holy for one reason or another. Rarely, however, the strong Aether focus could be also a holy site.
At the suggeston that Eilis should come back to the place she risked her life to escape almost caused a reaction from Arn. However, his logical side, which had taken a back seat to the newly birthed emotional side demanded attention. What Uilles was proposing was the most logical outcome. Running away and hiding only deterred or delayed Eilis being captured. Only by finding a way to actually remove her bindings, and hopefully in this way remove the parasitical shadow being in her Thread could she truly be free.
“No…” Her voice spoke trembling in horror. “Don’t take me back…”
He held her hand tenderly. He sighed. Perhaps she would hate him but he could live with her eternal disdain if he was able to free her and allowe her to live a life that would be sans dark haired witches nipping at her heels.
He took a deep breath and then spoke, both to her and loud enough for men to hear. “No one will force you to go anywhere. But please, allow Lord Venray to finish his explanation. There is not harm in considering all options. One thing that is certain is that you are much too valuable and I would rather that value be due to the fullness you bring to people’s lives than that placed by the greed of others.”
The master mage turned to Uilles. “I assume my lord. You have a suggested course of action in mind?”
Arn opened the door to the restroom slowly and peeked inside the room. The light of Athena’s soft glow the only thing that illuminated the space. He came face to face with his roommate’s golden-brown eyes. He stood there transfixed as if he had been poisoned by a basilisk. When she moved past him to the restroom he made his way towards picking up his gear. Suddenly, his foot crunched on something on the ground. Unknown to him, it was the remnants of his roommate’s attempt at a gift.
The young dwarf froze and looked in the direction of the restroom fearing the girl was done with her morning routines or had heard the crunch and somehow came out to investigate. He detected no movement of any door opening. He gave a sigh as it seemed he was still undiscovered. He had managed to grab his armor and put in in his pack and was about to pick up his maul when the magical orb increased its glow and loudly uttered.
"Attention first year students. Classes will begin in approximately 30 minutes. Please report to the Hall of Combat with any equipment that you require. If you do not have the appropriate equipment it will be provided for you on site."
Fearing any further morning pleasantries of his lovely roommate, the cleric in training positively hugged his gear and made a bolt for the door dropping one of his throwing axes as he opened the door which he kicked outside grunting as the hardy wooden shaft caught his pinky. Still, sacrifices needed to be made if he was to escape.
The cadet did not stop hustling until he was out of the dormitory building. He huffed and puffed as he found an out of the way bench and organized his gear as he caught his breath. Years upon years of practice made him donning the Mythril armor an efficient evolution. The scale mail fashioned armor was flexible but durable. Some other dwarves used full plate but these were front line tanks. He was a medic, he needed to move quickly in and out of the battle dragging wounded dwarves. This type of armor enabled protection but also allowed for ease of movement.
Even the boots were deceptively heavy looking. They were more padded than anything. Dwarves tended to march everywhere and the cushioning material had saved many a foot. The familiar weight of the armor made him feel at ease. Though his meditative sleep had refreshed him, it was the way the armor fit around him that actually made him sigh contently.
Not only that, but he was headed towards combat training class. He was looking forward to it. As with all dwarves, the love of fighting was not lost on the young cleric. The young dwarf placed the heather shaped shield to hand on specially fabricated hooks on his back so he was able to carry it like a back pack. He then placed his maul on a specially made groove in the shield.
These small and specialized fabrications enabled him to have his hands free and be protected when providing triage to a fallen casualty. Standing up and taking in a deep breath of the fresh pre dawn air, he referenced his map scroll and walked at a comfortable pace towards the Hall of Combat.
When he arrived, another part of his dwarven heritage was activated as the already short dwarf craned his neck to take in the four story tall building. The young cadet could have sworn that if dwarves had not built the structure, they most have most certainly at least been asked to supervise the construction.
Gloved hands lovely touched the stone walls, appreciating the craftmanship. The Hall of Combat was a worthy place for warriors to learn the noble art of warfare. Combat was made that much more glorious when held on a eye catching stage as this one.
He had arrived early but had wondered about the lower levels of the structure admiring even the smallest detail. The runes carved there were of special interest and he was looking forward to learning of them in class.
Finally, he entered through one of the arches just in time to not be considered late and rested a shoulder against a wall relaxing a bit. He had unhooked his maul and also let it rest head down in the sand. Moments later the entrance of Sir Vermont and two others elicited him to come to attention. He could not help it. His stance had both of his feet clamped together and his right hand placed holding his hammer as his left was straight and pressed against his body.
The young cadet noticed two others enter with the man who had instilled a sense of respect in him. One was a dangerous looking masked man whom Arn somehow sensed a very deadly aura from. Perhaps it was his divine gift which had been bestowed upon him when he had been branded by Storalla. Whatever the case, the man looked like someone you did not want to meet in a dark alley. Hell, he was not one you wanted to meet in a well lit alley.
The second person caused him to have mixed emotions. On the one hand, she was a race that had been at war with his people for hundreds upon hundreds of years. The Drow had no love for dwarves and the same could be said of the dwarves. Indeed, at this very moment, his older brother, Krev, was in campaign on the lower realms of Beneath doing battle for territory.
On the other hand, as a male, he could not help but be captivated by her beauty. She was a poetic work of art. Delicate features and ratios combined with an air of lovely sweetness and an underlying air of deadliness made her prime candidate of gawking. Her light blue eyes fell in his general direction and guilt made him turn away as if he had been caught red handed. The color in his skin blushed a little and he lowered his head in shame.
Thankfully, the brightly armored instructor saved him from the awkward silence by laying down some rules. Arn sighed relieved. If there was something that brought control back to world of chaos was rules. He listened attentively from his place making sure to commit the rules to memory.
As the man spoke, the young cleric’s regard for him grew. He agreed with everything that was coming from the man’s mouth. The knight could be confused for a dwarf were he less tall and more round.
He was still maneuvering the mental image of Sir Vermont into a pedestal when he was abruptly caught un wares by the sudden call to run. Arn groaned audibly and he said with a voice steeped in displeasure. “Well….Shit.” He picked up this maul, and pressing some hidden buttons, the head came off revealing a javelin tip. He hefted the shaft and placed it in the special holder on his shield and took of at a measure pace.
This was not the first time he had to run in formation. This was not the first time he had to run in full armor. This was not the first time he would do so suddenly. However, this WAS the first time he would do so with other people that were not dwarves. This placed him at a disadvantage.
His short legs were strong and his stride was even, considering he was running on sand with full armor, but still he had to work just a bit harder that those with less armor and longer strides. Still, he knew that this was going to be a longer run and he decided to conserve his energy.
This tactic landed him very close to the end of the pack by one or two people. His breathing was rhythm as he rounded the third lap. The young dwarf was just wondering what sort of penalty those who came last would face as in his training routines, the last ones always earned the whole group some sort of undesired consequence, when suddenly, an arrow whizzed just above his head and impacted….the bully from the night before?!
Though he was not glad for the seeming work of Karma, Arn could not help but grunt at the irony. He was about to stop and offer his help when a human lad had the same idea. However, his incredulous annoyance was almost palpable as the bully pushed the good Samaritan down and ran away cackling.
The cleric low growled but was gratified when he saw not only one but two of his table mates from the night before exact sweet revenge upon the errant bully. He appreciated that the marble skinned girl named Valeria was also in full armor and sporting it well. Again, something told him there was more to her than met the eye but he could not quite place it.
The blue haired lass obviously was more than capable at using the daggers she had strapped on her body and the result of such skill was comical. However, Arn could only express his mirth in the form of an approving grunt and a smirk. The others were too far ahead of him for the dwarf to notice. He held his position but despite the armor and thanks to his steady pace and training, he was not in the middle of the back group.
The young dwarf froze and looked in the direction of the restroom fearing the girl was done with her morning routines or had heard the crunch and somehow came out to investigate. He detected no movement of any door opening. He gave a sigh as it seemed he was still undiscovered. He had managed to grab his armor and put in in his pack and was about to pick up his maul when the magical orb increased its glow and loudly uttered.
"Attention first year students. Classes will begin in approximately 30 minutes. Please report to the Hall of Combat with any equipment that you require. If you do not have the appropriate equipment it will be provided for you on site."
Fearing any further morning pleasantries of his lovely roommate, the cleric in training positively hugged his gear and made a bolt for the door dropping one of his throwing axes as he opened the door which he kicked outside grunting as the hardy wooden shaft caught his pinky. Still, sacrifices needed to be made if he was to escape.
The cadet did not stop hustling until he was out of the dormitory building. He huffed and puffed as he found an out of the way bench and organized his gear as he caught his breath. Years upon years of practice made him donning the Mythril armor an efficient evolution. The scale mail fashioned armor was flexible but durable. Some other dwarves used full plate but these were front line tanks. He was a medic, he needed to move quickly in and out of the battle dragging wounded dwarves. This type of armor enabled protection but also allowed for ease of movement.
Even the boots were deceptively heavy looking. They were more padded than anything. Dwarves tended to march everywhere and the cushioning material had saved many a foot. The familiar weight of the armor made him feel at ease. Though his meditative sleep had refreshed him, it was the way the armor fit around him that actually made him sigh contently.
Not only that, but he was headed towards combat training class. He was looking forward to it. As with all dwarves, the love of fighting was not lost on the young cleric. The young dwarf placed the heather shaped shield to hand on specially fabricated hooks on his back so he was able to carry it like a back pack. He then placed his maul on a specially made groove in the shield.
These small and specialized fabrications enabled him to have his hands free and be protected when providing triage to a fallen casualty. Standing up and taking in a deep breath of the fresh pre dawn air, he referenced his map scroll and walked at a comfortable pace towards the Hall of Combat.
When he arrived, another part of his dwarven heritage was activated as the already short dwarf craned his neck to take in the four story tall building. The young cadet could have sworn that if dwarves had not built the structure, they most have most certainly at least been asked to supervise the construction.
Gloved hands lovely touched the stone walls, appreciating the craftmanship. The Hall of Combat was a worthy place for warriors to learn the noble art of warfare. Combat was made that much more glorious when held on a eye catching stage as this one.
He had arrived early but had wondered about the lower levels of the structure admiring even the smallest detail. The runes carved there were of special interest and he was looking forward to learning of them in class.
Finally, he entered through one of the arches just in time to not be considered late and rested a shoulder against a wall relaxing a bit. He had unhooked his maul and also let it rest head down in the sand. Moments later the entrance of Sir Vermont and two others elicited him to come to attention. He could not help it. His stance had both of his feet clamped together and his right hand placed holding his hammer as his left was straight and pressed against his body.
The young cadet noticed two others enter with the man who had instilled a sense of respect in him. One was a dangerous looking masked man whom Arn somehow sensed a very deadly aura from. Perhaps it was his divine gift which had been bestowed upon him when he had been branded by Storalla. Whatever the case, the man looked like someone you did not want to meet in a dark alley. Hell, he was not one you wanted to meet in a well lit alley.
The second person caused him to have mixed emotions. On the one hand, she was a race that had been at war with his people for hundreds upon hundreds of years. The Drow had no love for dwarves and the same could be said of the dwarves. Indeed, at this very moment, his older brother, Krev, was in campaign on the lower realms of Beneath doing battle for territory.
On the other hand, as a male, he could not help but be captivated by her beauty. She was a poetic work of art. Delicate features and ratios combined with an air of lovely sweetness and an underlying air of deadliness made her prime candidate of gawking. Her light blue eyes fell in his general direction and guilt made him turn away as if he had been caught red handed. The color in his skin blushed a little and he lowered his head in shame.
Thankfully, the brightly armored instructor saved him from the awkward silence by laying down some rules. Arn sighed relieved. If there was something that brought control back to world of chaos was rules. He listened attentively from his place making sure to commit the rules to memory.
As the man spoke, the young cleric’s regard for him grew. He agreed with everything that was coming from the man’s mouth. The knight could be confused for a dwarf were he less tall and more round.
He was still maneuvering the mental image of Sir Vermont into a pedestal when he was abruptly caught un wares by the sudden call to run. Arn groaned audibly and he said with a voice steeped in displeasure. “Well….Shit.” He picked up this maul, and pressing some hidden buttons, the head came off revealing a javelin tip. He hefted the shaft and placed it in the special holder on his shield and took of at a measure pace.
This was not the first time he had to run in formation. This was not the first time he had to run in full armor. This was not the first time he would do so suddenly. However, this WAS the first time he would do so with other people that were not dwarves. This placed him at a disadvantage.
His short legs were strong and his stride was even, considering he was running on sand with full armor, but still he had to work just a bit harder that those with less armor and longer strides. Still, he knew that this was going to be a longer run and he decided to conserve his energy.
This tactic landed him very close to the end of the pack by one or two people. His breathing was rhythm as he rounded the third lap. The young dwarf was just wondering what sort of penalty those who came last would face as in his training routines, the last ones always earned the whole group some sort of undesired consequence, when suddenly, an arrow whizzed just above his head and impacted….the bully from the night before?!
Though he was not glad for the seeming work of Karma, Arn could not help but grunt at the irony. He was about to stop and offer his help when a human lad had the same idea. However, his incredulous annoyance was almost palpable as the bully pushed the good Samaritan down and ran away cackling.
The cleric low growled but was gratified when he saw not only one but two of his table mates from the night before exact sweet revenge upon the errant bully. He appreciated that the marble skinned girl named Valeria was also in full armor and sporting it well. Again, something told him there was more to her than met the eye but he could not quite place it.
The blue haired lass obviously was more than capable at using the daggers she had strapped on her body and the result of such skill was comical. However, Arn could only express his mirth in the form of an approving grunt and a smirk. The others were too far ahead of him for the dwarf to notice. He held his position but despite the armor and thanks to his steady pace and training, he was not in the middle of the back group.
The pair made their way through the cave. Fer making sure his shield was the only thing the sharp edges of sword or axe ever came in contact with instead of his or Cole’s flesh. His arm would reverberate with every collision with either weapon or body part as he covered and bashed. He was thankful for the extra constitution and buffing ability his shield provided. Close quarter combats as an exhausting ordeal and Cole was starting to show a bit of the signs that came from hefting a sword, legendary or not.
Inwardly Fer was a bit amazed at how proficient his companion had become at dispatching bad guys. Though he could see the smallest hints of hesitation in each strike. The young Shield could empathize with his counterpart. Taking life should never get easier. One can learn to accept it and even become really good at ending life but only the truly barbaric ever got used to it. The truly evil even came to enjoy it.
Thankfully for Cole, some would succumb to their wounds and give up or do the same after seeing the futility of opposing the wielder of one of the Legendary Cardinal Weapons. Bandits and lowlifes they may be but at least not all of them were dumb. He heard and felt more than saw the veteran mercenary and their lovely winged companion behind them as they put those who surrendered in chains.
His eyes fixed on the front finally fell on the obvious entrance at the end of the cave. He shot a sideways glance to Cole who answer his unasked question by proceeding forward. The enclosed spaces made the corridor feel more like the throat of a snake ready to devour them as they willingly walked deeper into its bowels.
Fer could not help but purse his lips in annoyance as the pair was greeted by a clapping bandit leader. Not really sure what he was expecting, he definitely was not expecting a woman as good looking as the one before him. The face did not match the infamy that accompanied the name of Rayla Winters.
The confidence in her voice did not in itself inspire confidence. That much confidence hinted at a very capable and deadly adversary. Fer unconsciously gripped his shield tighter as if trying to find comfort in the fact that he was holding a legendary shield and hoping that such a reputation would be enough to save him and his partners.
Fer would have gladly offered his name but it seemed that the bandit leader deemed the pair not even worthy of remembering. What bothered him however was her moniker. He was sure that it was not self proclaimed. One did not tout a name such as the Crimson Witch with out something to back it up.
“Great, and I was hoping this was going to be over quickly” He grumbled almost inaudibly. He braced himself looking around at his surroundings. They were in her turf. It was sure that Rayla knew that cave room like the back of her hand. The only way to survive that was to ensure they did not fell into any traps and adapted to the environment.
Inwardly Fer was a bit amazed at how proficient his companion had become at dispatching bad guys. Though he could see the smallest hints of hesitation in each strike. The young Shield could empathize with his counterpart. Taking life should never get easier. One can learn to accept it and even become really good at ending life but only the truly barbaric ever got used to it. The truly evil even came to enjoy it.
Thankfully for Cole, some would succumb to their wounds and give up or do the same after seeing the futility of opposing the wielder of one of the Legendary Cardinal Weapons. Bandits and lowlifes they may be but at least not all of them were dumb. He heard and felt more than saw the veteran mercenary and their lovely winged companion behind them as they put those who surrendered in chains.
His eyes fixed on the front finally fell on the obvious entrance at the end of the cave. He shot a sideways glance to Cole who answer his unasked question by proceeding forward. The enclosed spaces made the corridor feel more like the throat of a snake ready to devour them as they willingly walked deeper into its bowels.
Fer could not help but purse his lips in annoyance as the pair was greeted by a clapping bandit leader. Not really sure what he was expecting, he definitely was not expecting a woman as good looking as the one before him. The face did not match the infamy that accompanied the name of Rayla Winters.
The confidence in her voice did not in itself inspire confidence. That much confidence hinted at a very capable and deadly adversary. Fer unconsciously gripped his shield tighter as if trying to find comfort in the fact that he was holding a legendary shield and hoping that such a reputation would be enough to save him and his partners.
Fer would have gladly offered his name but it seemed that the bandit leader deemed the pair not even worthy of remembering. What bothered him however was her moniker. He was sure that it was not self proclaimed. One did not tout a name such as the Crimson Witch with out something to back it up.
“Great, and I was hoping this was going to be over quickly” He grumbled almost inaudibly. He braced himself looking around at his surroundings. They were in her turf. It was sure that Rayla knew that cave room like the back of her hand. The only way to survive that was to ensure they did not fell into any traps and adapted to the environment.
lol, no pressure on Arn lol. I dont mind the mystery as long as there are little bread crumbs to follow. The struggle will proably be inside of Arn himself as he logically agrees with Uilles but his heart, who has just recently taken a center stage, will try to muscle his way around.
Arn closed the door to the restroom and sighed deeply. As a dwarf, every fiber of his being demanded that he go out there and face his fears. Defeat is only acceptable in an honorable duel. Though proud, dwarves not stupid. Their race is not as numerous as humans or demi humans. Even elves tend to populate faster than the under-ground dwelling humanoids. Thus, the race tends to minimize anything that could be dangerous and harmful. Hence their mistrust and limited contact with other races.
His every fiber was on high alert since he had arrived at the Academy and now his room, the one place he had hoped would be a sanctuary or retreat, was ground zero. A measly door separated the young cadet from not only a strange species but one that was so perfectly and beautifully represented in the lovely Archer, Karya.
The cleric in training made doubly sure that the door was closed and the proceeded to take off his uniform. Well muscled arms and legs were covered in almost fur like hair. Though not dexterous as the elven people, it was still no problem for the strong leg muscles to balance him as he took of his pants and put his pajamas on. He pulled the pajama shirt over his head and it fell on broad shoulders, a wide back and a barrel chest. While it was true that his midsection was not chiseled, the abdominal muscles were as taunt as steel.
Soon, he noticed the strewn about towels, puddles of water and trail of wet steps and remembered the woodland lady mentioning something about it.
"Ehh, I hope it isn't too much of a mess, with the towels and all," she called as he trudged into the room at the back. "You see, I had a little trouble with the artificial lake in there."
He could not help but smirk slightly at the scene and her comment. His race was very mechanically inclined and almost had a built in sense of how things worked. The young dwarf wondered where the girl came from and how they lived that something as simple as a faucet seemed to have gotten the better of her.
The young cadet caught himself smirking and immediately corrected himself. He shook his head as if to re arrange his thoughts and set his military training correctly. Before him was a mess that needed to be corrected. This he knew. So thankful for something to do, he proceeded to clean up.
Service duty was required of all cadets. The dwarf soon finished drying up and even making a makeshift hanging place for the wet towels. Having finished too quickly he proceeded to vent his anxiety and awkwardness about the place in making the rest room prim and pretty. He refolded the towels to maximize the storage and make it more efficient.
When he ran out of things to arrange or optimize, he sat down on the floor cross legged. He dug into the med pack that he always carried with him and which had fit perfectly into the school provided satchel that went with his uniform. He produced a small book titled “Spreading Storalla’s Light: A call of faith.”
It had been written by a High Priest of Storalla and all cleric initiates were required to read it. It held not only instruction and introduction into the monastic structure of the clergy, but also it had many passages that the cleric could use for faith edification.
The book was well worn. It had actually belonged to Hardal. There were very few copies but enough for the small unit of clerics from Iron Gate Fort. The dwarves allowed religion and the worship of a god other than Ugrad only because the clerics were essential units. However, very few joined their ranks due to the skill and temperance required to be a medic. Also, there was an underlying belief that clerics were not true dwarves.
The race delighted in the din and struggle of battle. Indeed, the first “toys” a young dwarf plays with are hammer and shield. Their whole society is geared towards the outfitting, training, and conducting of war. Soft feelings such as mercy and blessings that are a core belief of clerics are taken with a tongue in cheek attitude.
Still, to Arn, the words of the High Priest were a balm that help cure the wounds of his mind and which gave him purpose and direction. As he read, his mind became at ease and he achieved an almost serene and detached mental state.
This state allowed him to review and analyze the events of the evening from a calmer vantage point. He closed his eyes as he meditated. A calm that was not known to many dwarves surrounded him like a cloak. In his mind’s eye he saw the feast hall, and the people who had sat at his table.
Via this vision, he was able to pick out small details and impressions he had not allowed himself to pay attention to earlier. Each and every one of his table mates had been interesting in their own way.
Starting with the blonde mage who spoke to him first, Arn winced at his realization that he had been rude. However, the bubbly and positive energy (or was it something else) that was radiating from the mage was a bit too much for his first experience. Then there was his self-proclaimed cousin and his lovely entourage of ladies. The young cadet made it a personal goal to visit more with Finn. After all, the archer was the only lifeline to his uncle that he knew.
Selena’s pink haired and foxy appearance was reason enough to make her stand out yet Arn had felt a sort of energy from her too he could not describe other than it reminded him of the times he had felt power pour into him while he was in prayer and divine training. The was not much he could say about the regal looking white haired Valerie other than she looked very confident and that in itself is a mystery worth learning.
Arn shifted his position and after a few shuffles, he decided to just place a fluffy towel under him and lean against a wall. He took a deep breath and went back to his meditation arms left relaxed on his lap. If anybody were to enter and see him in that state, he would look by all appearances as some tree loving individual that eats paleo natural foods and is concerned about peoples auras.
He had not really experienced much of the two demon horned individuals and the red eyed blacked robed mage who seemed to have a sharp mind and sharp tongue. The Tieflings, though he did not know they were called this, acted much different than their looks projected. However, the dwarf was sure that he was not the only one who was instinctually averse to their looks. His gut reaction made him feel ashamed. After all, they seemed like nice individuals.
Last but definitely not least, was the blue haired lass whose eyes held back some sort of secret. What it was the dwarf could not tell but her aura was deadly. The way she had asserted herself when holding back Finn had a certain confidence that came from experience in dangerous situation. At least, situations that could lead to violence.
A sudden crash from the other side of the door startled the almost tranced cadet. His little smirk returned. Ah yes, how could one forget his very own roommate. Ironically, now that she was hidden from his sight by the wooden door, was when he could truly appreciate her visage. His mind conjured a tanned skinned beauty. With barely contained tussle of hair that sported small flowers. The small detail was not lost on Arn. It added to her attractiveness.
His home above ground sported greenery necessary for food of man and best only. There was no flowers other than those that grew wild. Trees were sacrificed for the need of wood and clear spaces that would prevent an army from getting too close to the Iron Gate Fort. So to Arn, Karya was as exotic as they came. She was delicate and long limbed as an elf but her golden-brown eyes sported none of the contempt and airs of superiority that often triggered the proud dwarves.
The young cleric suddenly felt flushed by his private analyzing of his roommate. Somehow, doing that with the person being just a room over felt like he was some sort of creep. Instead of continuing with that mental path, he decided to study more of his book. Eventually, a tired mind caused tired eyes to close.
Thanks to his internal clock, the dwarf’s eyes flew open. Something in his gut told him it was nearing the dawn. If he remembered correctly, combat class would be held at dawn. He was not sure how far away the training grounds were, and he had to take into account the time to don his armor and how long it would take him to get to the fields encumbered and the disadvantage of his short stride.
The young cadet got up with a grunt. Sleeping sitting down on the hard floor of the restroom did not agree with him. He approached the door and then stopped. His mind reminded him that there lay a lovely lady on the other side. He debated hotly in his head whether he should knock or just go in, or wait until she was awake. The dread of being late to a formal and mandatory event finally won the argument. He steeled himself and cautiously opened the door to whatever lay on the other side of the door.
His every fiber was on high alert since he had arrived at the Academy and now his room, the one place he had hoped would be a sanctuary or retreat, was ground zero. A measly door separated the young cadet from not only a strange species but one that was so perfectly and beautifully represented in the lovely Archer, Karya.
The cleric in training made doubly sure that the door was closed and the proceeded to take off his uniform. Well muscled arms and legs were covered in almost fur like hair. Though not dexterous as the elven people, it was still no problem for the strong leg muscles to balance him as he took of his pants and put his pajamas on. He pulled the pajama shirt over his head and it fell on broad shoulders, a wide back and a barrel chest. While it was true that his midsection was not chiseled, the abdominal muscles were as taunt as steel.
Soon, he noticed the strewn about towels, puddles of water and trail of wet steps and remembered the woodland lady mentioning something about it.
"Ehh, I hope it isn't too much of a mess, with the towels and all," she called as he trudged into the room at the back. "You see, I had a little trouble with the artificial lake in there."
He could not help but smirk slightly at the scene and her comment. His race was very mechanically inclined and almost had a built in sense of how things worked. The young dwarf wondered where the girl came from and how they lived that something as simple as a faucet seemed to have gotten the better of her.
The young cadet caught himself smirking and immediately corrected himself. He shook his head as if to re arrange his thoughts and set his military training correctly. Before him was a mess that needed to be corrected. This he knew. So thankful for something to do, he proceeded to clean up.
Service duty was required of all cadets. The dwarf soon finished drying up and even making a makeshift hanging place for the wet towels. Having finished too quickly he proceeded to vent his anxiety and awkwardness about the place in making the rest room prim and pretty. He refolded the towels to maximize the storage and make it more efficient.
When he ran out of things to arrange or optimize, he sat down on the floor cross legged. He dug into the med pack that he always carried with him and which had fit perfectly into the school provided satchel that went with his uniform. He produced a small book titled “Spreading Storalla’s Light: A call of faith.”
It had been written by a High Priest of Storalla and all cleric initiates were required to read it. It held not only instruction and introduction into the monastic structure of the clergy, but also it had many passages that the cleric could use for faith edification.
The book was well worn. It had actually belonged to Hardal. There were very few copies but enough for the small unit of clerics from Iron Gate Fort. The dwarves allowed religion and the worship of a god other than Ugrad only because the clerics were essential units. However, very few joined their ranks due to the skill and temperance required to be a medic. Also, there was an underlying belief that clerics were not true dwarves.
The race delighted in the din and struggle of battle. Indeed, the first “toys” a young dwarf plays with are hammer and shield. Their whole society is geared towards the outfitting, training, and conducting of war. Soft feelings such as mercy and blessings that are a core belief of clerics are taken with a tongue in cheek attitude.
Still, to Arn, the words of the High Priest were a balm that help cure the wounds of his mind and which gave him purpose and direction. As he read, his mind became at ease and he achieved an almost serene and detached mental state.
This state allowed him to review and analyze the events of the evening from a calmer vantage point. He closed his eyes as he meditated. A calm that was not known to many dwarves surrounded him like a cloak. In his mind’s eye he saw the feast hall, and the people who had sat at his table.
Via this vision, he was able to pick out small details and impressions he had not allowed himself to pay attention to earlier. Each and every one of his table mates had been interesting in their own way.
Starting with the blonde mage who spoke to him first, Arn winced at his realization that he had been rude. However, the bubbly and positive energy (or was it something else) that was radiating from the mage was a bit too much for his first experience. Then there was his self-proclaimed cousin and his lovely entourage of ladies. The young cadet made it a personal goal to visit more with Finn. After all, the archer was the only lifeline to his uncle that he knew.
Selena’s pink haired and foxy appearance was reason enough to make her stand out yet Arn had felt a sort of energy from her too he could not describe other than it reminded him of the times he had felt power pour into him while he was in prayer and divine training. The was not much he could say about the regal looking white haired Valerie other than she looked very confident and that in itself is a mystery worth learning.
Arn shifted his position and after a few shuffles, he decided to just place a fluffy towel under him and lean against a wall. He took a deep breath and went back to his meditation arms left relaxed on his lap. If anybody were to enter and see him in that state, he would look by all appearances as some tree loving individual that eats paleo natural foods and is concerned about peoples auras.
He had not really experienced much of the two demon horned individuals and the red eyed blacked robed mage who seemed to have a sharp mind and sharp tongue. The Tieflings, though he did not know they were called this, acted much different than their looks projected. However, the dwarf was sure that he was not the only one who was instinctually averse to their looks. His gut reaction made him feel ashamed. After all, they seemed like nice individuals.
Last but definitely not least, was the blue haired lass whose eyes held back some sort of secret. What it was the dwarf could not tell but her aura was deadly. The way she had asserted herself when holding back Finn had a certain confidence that came from experience in dangerous situation. At least, situations that could lead to violence.
A sudden crash from the other side of the door startled the almost tranced cadet. His little smirk returned. Ah yes, how could one forget his very own roommate. Ironically, now that she was hidden from his sight by the wooden door, was when he could truly appreciate her visage. His mind conjured a tanned skinned beauty. With barely contained tussle of hair that sported small flowers. The small detail was not lost on Arn. It added to her attractiveness.
His home above ground sported greenery necessary for food of man and best only. There was no flowers other than those that grew wild. Trees were sacrificed for the need of wood and clear spaces that would prevent an army from getting too close to the Iron Gate Fort. So to Arn, Karya was as exotic as they came. She was delicate and long limbed as an elf but her golden-brown eyes sported none of the contempt and airs of superiority that often triggered the proud dwarves.
The young cleric suddenly felt flushed by his private analyzing of his roommate. Somehow, doing that with the person being just a room over felt like he was some sort of creep. Instead of continuing with that mental path, he decided to study more of his book. Eventually, a tired mind caused tired eyes to close.
Thanks to his internal clock, the dwarf’s eyes flew open. Something in his gut told him it was nearing the dawn. If he remembered correctly, combat class would be held at dawn. He was not sure how far away the training grounds were, and he had to take into account the time to don his armor and how long it would take him to get to the fields encumbered and the disadvantage of his short stride.
The young cadet got up with a grunt. Sleeping sitting down on the hard floor of the restroom did not agree with him. He approached the door and then stopped. His mind reminded him that there lay a lovely lady on the other side. He debated hotly in his head whether he should knock or just go in, or wait until she was awake. The dread of being late to a formal and mandatory event finally won the argument. He steeled himself and cautiously opened the door to whatever lay on the other side of the door.
Well what do make of this?
do YOU want to play out the probing? we could do it as a sort of flash back. I assume it might help in the back story or as a piece of the mystery? Also, I honestly do intend on writing the secondary story arc but I keep on procrastinating on it. Sorry about that. I will work on it a bit more.
Finally, is Arn going to have to work hard to convince her or we are heading there anyways lol. I was just wondering how strong his argument needed to be lol.
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