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Honour Among Thieves; It's like the Count of Monte Cristo...with a memory wipe.
Topic Started: Sep 30 2013, 12:37 AM (650 Views)
Captain_Riposte
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When the woman opened her eyes, her body filled with pain. She was lying in the ground. With a whimper she sat up and examined herself. She was dressed in a riding dress, stained with blood; the scarlet fluid trickled down her long, slender fingers. She had no horse, no money, no weapons. She was alone.

Buzzards circled overhead. Though her head swam--perhaps from loss of blood--she knew she had to move. She held her head as she placed one faltering foot in front of the other down the forest path. As she stumbled forward she tried remembering what had happend. She didn't know. She did not even remember her name.

She nearly collapsed, and there she would have died. But the sight of a town ahead renewed her with enough hope to press on for a little bit longer. It was a timber-town projecting over a lake, fenced in by palisades. She cried to the watchman for help. Soldiers sat her down in the guardhouse, bandaged her wounds, and gave her a drink. But the soldiers' faces were grim, some gloating, and their hands were not gentle.

The doctor came with a stretcher. The woman lay still on the stretcher under Doctor's orders. But even as she was borne out onto the streets, soldiers flanked her bed. The doctor tucked her into a secluded corner of his hospital. The patient remained under guard.


That was months ago. Four, to be exact. The woman sat chained in a musty cell, staring blankly out her grated window, alone with her thoughts. The wounds she had suffered, her indoor confinement, and the "prisoner's cough" had reduced her to a gaunt, white skeleton. Her blood-red locks hung limp and uncombed, a solitary grey robe hung on her emaciated frame.

She knew nothing of her past, save for the charges of murder and treason laid against her. The guards called her Prisoner 14. But she now knew her name as Mara Fell.
"Truth is truth to the end of reckoning." ~ William Shakespeare's "Measure for Measure" V.I.4
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Captain_Riposte
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Plates of hinged steel clattered to the ground.

"I can take care of myself, thank you," Mara said as she attacked another buckle. When she had struggled out of the rest of the armour she claimed a horse. Her mind raced to recall any lessons she had learnt about horseback riding. She could think of none. The beast looked taller than a human should climb. But she alighted naturally enough.

See, she told herself, I knew you were a rider.

Once she nudged the horse into motion, she slid along its bare back. The horse bolted, leaving Mara a tumbling mess of red hair and red skin on the red earth.
"Truth is truth to the end of reckoning." ~ William Shakespeare's "Measure for Measure" V.I.4
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The Inkweaver
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He'd been watching him from a distance long enough. The runaway captives he'd trapped in a ring of cyclones till he could get close enough to bind them once again with branches from the surrounding bramble and their own broken shackles. He wondered why the man and the woman remained in the road, as if they did not number themselves among the legitimate criminals. He gripped the shining amethyst pendant and tucked it under his tunic, feeling the vibration of the wind coursing through his body, from his powerful shoulders all the way down to his leather boots; who knew that a simple gem could be so powerful--if indeed it was the gem providing the power, not just revealing it to his senses. It wasn't as if he could control the wind or the sky--it was only that since acquiring the gem, he could sense them more, as if his perception had widened to take in all of the sky above Terrarum and everything it contained: every cloud, every raindrop, every gust of wind. Each had a voice, and with his mind, now, he could speak their languages.

He neared the pair: a woman with red-hair sprawled on the ground after her faulty attempt at trying to ride a cart-horse without a saddle. The poor creature stood not far from the man who held the reins of the second horse with the calm ease of a seasoned mercenary. They bore the marks of manacles on their skin. He smoothed his dark hair and smiled at them, spreading his arms to show he meant no harm.


"Ah, travelers I see," He winked a blue eye at them; it was no secret that they had just escaped from the prison-cart they stood beside--but he was not looking for any trouble, and he figured Delaria was probably better off not to have these two roaming its streets. "Good day to you both, and I must be off to the magistrate. There are a gang of escaped criminals currently awaiting re-capture over yonder hill--it would be best if honest folk like yourselves did not remain to watch the proceedings, else the magistrate count you among their number."
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Tasha the Gypsy
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Derrak was just about to go after the horse that Mara had fallen off of when the stranger approached.

"Ah, travelers I see," The man said.

Derrak was immediately alert, ready to fight if the man would try to apprehend them. He disliked the tone the man was using, and the easy friendliness of him.

"Good day to you both, and I must be off to the magistrate. There are a gang of escaped criminals currently awaiting re-capture over yonder hill--it would be best if honest folk like yourselves did not remain to watch the proceedings, else the magistrate count you among their number." the stranger continued.

Derrak's eyes narrowed as he looked over the man, trying to see if he really meant to let them go on their way, or if he had a trick up his sleeve. He knew the stranger must realize that they had escaped from the cart the same as the other criminals, so why was he acting in such a way? Derrak made sure the animal he was holding was securely tied to the cart before helping Mara up, keeping his eye on the man the whole time.

"Aye, as soon as I fetch the lady's horse, we'll be on our way." he said guardedly, "Thank you stranger, for your warning."

He led Mara over to the horse by the cart, and looked pointedly at a sword lying in reach, then at the man as if to say, "Watch him. If he makes any sudden moves, you know what to do." He then made himself walk calmly over the horse standing on a patch of grass nearby.
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The Inkweaver
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He made his way to the Magistrate in Delaria. It was strange, walking through the streets he knew almost as well as the back of his hand, since he had been through them on the breeze. He looked around at all the "familiar" booths and people--

Suddenly he gasped and threw himself into the nearest alleyway. She was still here!


"Where to now?" he heard Chan--the mermaid-turned-human, and his only means of getting back at his old rival--sigh.

Thinking furiously, he told her of the upcoming event at Castle Aldra and encouraged her to go there. He waited till she walked further, just so she wouldn't be able to see him. Covertly, he stole up to a waiting handsom-cab and caught the attention of the driver.


"You see that woman up there? The tall one?" He asked.

The driver snorted.
"Course I do, guv'nor! Cain't miss a broad that size, fer sartin!"

"Never mind that," he whispered. "The lady needs a ride. Go and avail yourself. She will give you the destination."

The man's eyes glinted greedily. "That'll be--"

"Yes, yes; I know!" He paid the driver's fee and sent him down the way. Once Chan was safely off, he emerged onto the street and entered the house of the Magistrate. A stuffy manservant came to greet him.

"Lord Peregrine will see you now," he announced.

The man followed the servant down the hall to the office of the magistrate. Lord Peregrine suited his name with his lean, tall, hawk-like appearance and piercing gaze. He glared at the simply-dressed man before him.


"Well?" Peregrine barked, "State your piece!"

The man's blue eyes twinkled as he laughed,
"Perry, my friend: is that any way to treat an old school chum?"
Anger--then confusion--followed swiftly by elation. "Can it be--Gustave? Gustave Ventus?" Lord Peregrine stood and grasped his old friend by the hand. "I had no idea you were here! Good grief, man, it's been ages since I saw you last! Tell me, how have you passed the time--no wait!" Perry drew himself up officiously. "For now, I'm afraid I must remain professional. We may resume our reunion over supper tonight, eh? So, what was it that you wanted to report."
Gustave smiled at his friend and nodded with understanding. "I understand you recently had a riot at the prison."

Lord Peregrine jumped to his feet as his eyes started out of his head. "How could you--" He grinned. "You sly codger! You found it, then?"
"Found--and apprehended the prisoners... or, I should say, re-apprehended them."
Lord Peregrine shook his hand and clapped him on the back. "Good man! That saved me a load of trouble! Ho, there!" He called into the hall. The manservant entered. "Send a detachment of the guard to retrieve the prisoners. They are--" he glanced at Gustave for confirmation.
"Concealed behind a knoll not three miles outside of town," Gustave confirmed.

Once the manservant left, Lord Peregrine returned to his desk and began shuffling papers.
"You have no idea what a headache I've had since I heard of the riot! I would have been executed for my incompetency if you hadn't been traveling to Delaria at this exact moment!" He found the paper he was looking for. "Ah! Here we are! Would you say there were about a dozen prisoners?"
Gustave bobbed his head. "That sounds about right; more or less."
Perry glanced at him and chuckled. "And you--one man--apprehended them all? I think this is a tale I will relish hearing over supper tonight!" He pulled out two posters and laid them before Gustave.

"Tell me," Peregrine continued in a very serious tone, "Do you recall seeing these two among their number? This is important, Gust." He pronounced the nickname like the first syllable of Gustave's name.

Gustave looked down, and choked back an affirmative answer. It was the two people from the road! They were hardly recognizable from their portraits--but when he saw their names, his heart thudded with dread. The man's name he didn't know--neither did he care about the crimes for which Derrak had been incarcerated. But the other--


The memory leaped into his mind as he read the name: a small boy, watching his family's farm burn away on a cool, windy summer night. His father and mother--covered head to toe in black soot, racing back and forth from the well to try and douse the fire. Gusts of wind playing around the dancing flames threatened to carry them to the house where the little boy stood. As he watched, a footfall behind him caused him to turn. He saw a dark-garbed figure standing in the house with him. He would have screamed, but the figure raised a finger to unseen lips and shushed him. From between the fingers hung a chain, on which swung a medallion--his father's medallion. The fire had been a diversion to lure his parents out of the house long enough for the thief to steal it. There was a whizzing sound, and a thunk. He looked down at the dagger buried in the floorboards between his feet. When he looked up, the figure was gone. He vividly recalled the name written in dark ink on the paper, for it had haunted his dreams ever since. The name that he saw printed on the poster before him now: MARA FELL. Not even the devil evoked such fear.

"No," Gustave muttered hoarsely. He subconsciously reached under his cloak and fingered the dagger, secured to his belt in a secret sheath that he had carried since that night. "I never saw these two."
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Captain_Riposte
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Mara moaned as Derrak lifed her to her feet. The sound caught in her throat at the sight of the man. She winced as she regained her balance, but said nothing. She did not acknowledge Derrak's instructions, but limped to the fallen sword. She dared not look at the man directly; she feigned an examination of the scarred blade, but peered past the chipped edge. She hefted the hilt in her hand, as if testing the weight. She extended the place and gazed down the point; the man was leaving.

"Guess he didn't want a souvenir," She muttered sardonically.

She limped back to Derrak.
"He's gone. We should get out of here before someone else decides to take a nature walk."

Mara looked at her recovered horse uneasily. Turning back to Derrak, she said, "Alright, Derrak. It seems I might have temporarily forgotten how to ride. Would you mind reminding me?" She scowled. One thing she hadn't forgotten was pride. And it hurt. Like the rest of her body right then.
"Truth is truth to the end of reckoning." ~ William Shakespeare's "Measure for Measure" V.I.4
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Tasha the Gypsy
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Derrak's lips were twitching as he tried not to smile.

"Here, let me give you a boost up." He made a stirrup out of his hands, waiting for Mara to mount, "When you get back in, grip his sides with your knees and lean forward slightly. Don't kick him too hard or he'll spook, and don't be nervous. Horses can sense how you're feeling, and if you're nervous, he will be too."
Edited by Tasha the Gypsy, Dec 21 2013, 06:04 AM.
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The Inkweaver
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Gustave paused in the quiet of Lord Peregrine's guest chamber and sighed. He had managed to give a satisfactory account of his doings since the University days Peregrine remembered--though the lies had been many. All throughout, as well, he'd had to deal with an irritated Chan complaining about her accommodations on the road to Aldra, her voice echoing through the very water in his glass. Every time she spoke, his Skystone burned, and a few times, Peregrine was on the verge of discovering his friend's secret, but luckily the goodly Lord was in too high spirits (and the wine was too good) for him to really notice much of anything. Gustave had begged weariness from the day's events, and Peregrine had waved him toward the guest room without a murmur.
Now, in the privacy of his own room, Gustave pulled out the Skystone and watched it glimmer in the darkness.


Fetching, isn't it?

Gustave flinched and whirled around. There didn't appear to be anyone else in the room--but that didn't mean there wasn't someone watching him... at least in his mind.

"My Lady Kerrigan!" Gustave gasped, as a pale, narrow Elvish face appeared in the large mirror next to the wardrobe.

She glared at him.
I did not give you that Stone so you could skulk around with your schoolfellows while you send a wild hoyden on a fool's errand!

The young man colored deeply under the Elf-maiden's gaze. "No, indeed, Your Ladyship. I know what is required of me."

See that it is done, Gustave. Athelron was a fool for giving a Stone of Terrarum to an outsider. You must find it quickly!

"Yes, Milady; I will do my best."

I don't want your best, young man; I want the Treestone.

Lady Kerrigan's image disappeared. Gustave sighed with relief and laid himself on the bed--but sleep did not come easily. "I will do what the Elvish Lady asks," he assured himself. "After Chan gets the medallion, I'll send her after the Treestone." He placed a hand over the Skystone and tried to think tree-ish thoughts, as if that would make the Treestone's location known, but it was either too far away, or the one that held it kept it hidden and deactivated.

That night, Gustave dreamed, though when he awoke, he recalled nothing of the dream. In his dream, three figures descended from a hill into a valley where stood a small mountain village: a girl with curly red hair, a tall Elf with pewter-colored hair, and a gold-haired maiden. Around the maiden's neck was the glowing green Treestone.

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Captain_Riposte
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Mara nodded, but a sour scowl contorted her features. She stepped onto Derrak's waiting hands and with an agonized moan, climbed into the saddle. She winced as she sat upright and shifted for what comfort she could afford her throbbing body. "Alright, Sir Derrak the Jailbreaker, do you have a plan or are you making this up as you go?"
"Truth is truth to the end of reckoning." ~ William Shakespeare's "Measure for Measure" V.I.4
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The Inkweaver
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With a heave and a flurry of feathers, a hawk burst out of the ground in the middle of a forest. He alighted on a branch overhead as a young, fair-haired Elf-maiden crawled out behind him.

Laurel lay on the ground, grateful for breath. As Kail'tor predicted, she was a little disoriented to have been heading downward one moment, and have to pull herself up out of a hole in the next. She lay on the ground for a moment, gathering her bearings.

The whinny of a horse caught her attention. Suddenly, Laurel's mission rushed back to her. She bounded to her feet.


Renata! she cried. Her heart swelled as she caught sight of a woman with bright-red curls sitting upon a horse not half a mile away. Swiftly, Laurel closed the distance between them, with Rune following close overhead.
When she had almost reached the road--a little over a stone's throw away--she froze and concealed herself.

The redhead on the horse was not Renata.


Derrak turned when a twig snapped. The horse whinnied and carried Mara into the distance. That didn't matter too much. Derrak could hear another person in the bushes. He drew his dagger and advanced toward the thicket.

All right, he snapped. Who are you? Come on out!

For one moment, nothing moved. Just when Derrak was about to reassure himself that perhaps it had just been a small animal or something, a body hurled out of the bush right in front of him. He felt a stiff, compact force connect with his shoulder as an arm clouted him across the back of the head. His attacker was everywhere at once, and yet there was no one that he could see. His reflexes kicked into gear, and he planted his feet and braced himself. Finally, he scored a hit on his near-invisible attacker. He snatched the narrow wrist and pulled hard to halt the onslaught. A sharp cry cut the air, and Derrak ascertained that his attacker was a woman. He groaned inwardly. Why was it always his luck to be thrown in with females?
The brief introspection was enough for her to slip a long, sharp blade under his chin.

Unhand me! she commanded imperiously.
Derrak reeled in shock as the narrow, fair features of an Elf-maiden were revealed in the moonlight.


What--

With a piercing shriek, a hawk burst out of the trees and toward his face. Derrak released the maiden's arm and batted the animal aside.
Enough! he shouted.

Agreed! the Elf shot back, brandishing her sword at him. What have you done with my friend? If you have hurt her, I swear I will do unto you tenfold what you have done to her!

Madwoman, Derrak spat, withdrawing a safe distance. I know nothing of this friend of whom you speak! I only wonder that you have any friends at all, if this is the way you interact with others!

Laurel frowned at the man. He did look the type to take advantage of someone as innocent as Renata--but if the girl had been here, where had she gone? And there was the matter of the second person, the red-haired woman who had vanished. If Renata was not here, then where could she be?

Who are you? she demanded.

He scowled.
Who are you?

If you will not tell me your name, Laurel could feel her one-quarter human blood rising to her normally-pale cheeks, then I will count you as my enemy.

Derrak snorted at the Elf-maiden's extreme reactions. That's fine by me!

The pair charged at each other, sword and dagger at the ready.
Edited by The Inkweaver, Sep 15 2014, 11:22 PM.
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Amaurea
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Andolla
Why did they have to walk everywhere anyway? Reaching up a hand, Covi brushed some brown hair, thick with sweat, from his eyes. He tried his best to keep up with his massive brother with his massive strides. And did he slow down? Of course not, especially not after hearing a shout and fighting in the next clearing.

Wait! A fight? Where? Why?

It didn't matter, Zemear, his brother, was already gone. All Covi could do was trail along and hide, ready to run interference should the human hybrid need it. With a gasping sigh, Covi hunkered down behind some thick brush and peered through the foliage at the two, soon to be three, combatants.



And Zemear, the second brother, could only be described as opposing. 7ft 5' was nothing to laugh at, unless you were looking up. This was not to say that he was a bad sort. Quite the contrary. Just because Giants and humans alike could be rather cruel, Zemear tended to take the best traits of both his parent races...except his voice.

But one didn't need a voice to fight, well, not in Zemear's experience anyway. One just needed a really big weapon and the know how to use it. Zemear had both.

As he quickly advanced on the two advancing on each other, he took note of them. Their stance, the way they moved, their very bodies told him everything he needed to know. So many ways to topple either of them, played before his mind, but they were so very different. The girl, Laural, clearly wasn't human, at least, not entirely. Her balance was too even, too natural. The second had a balance about him as well, but it was practiced, well tuned. He had to work for it. This brought about the age old question of who would win in a fight, one born with the skill, or one who had worked to master it.

Zemear really didn't want to find out. He figured that appearance alone couldn't chose his course of action. For now, he decided not to side with anyone, and just throw himself in between them. He did this quite literally, simultaneously unsheathing his preferred broad sward and thrusting its strong edge between the two combatants. The blade would probably stop Derrak's sword, if Zemear had timed it right, and just in case the girl kept going with her own antics, he lifted his left hand, fingers curled, palm expecting Laural's wrist to land upon it.



Covi watched on in bemused silence. Either his brother would get himself stabbed or he'd make a friend. Odds were definitely in favor of the former. Zemear wasn't the best at making friends, at least, from Covi's perspective.
"In sleep dreams embody our hopes and our future, but when dreams escape into reality, they become nightmares"
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The Inkweaver
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Laurel heard the CLANG!!!! of metal-on-metal, and pain exploded in her wrist like the gunpowder weapons the Murindan army used--but as she cried out and crumpled to the ground, clutching her wrist and dropping her dagger, she perceived that other than the pain she was unharmed. Derrak's blow had not touched her.

A third had entered the combat--and Laurel could only stare at the largest human being she had ever seen. It was fairly the size of a small lombrel, the ape-like trolls that roamed the deepest dark caverns of Mt. Horbaroth. She had been so accustomed to men the size of Elves or shorter, that such a behemoth was entirely beyond her comprehension.

Derrak reeled as the force of his momentum coming to a complete stop sent him flying backward several paces. Before he quite recovered his balance, gravity overtook him and landed him on his rear.

Laurel saw another broad-shouldered figure watching them from the shadows, but the fact that this man didn't take advantage of their incapacity ruled him out as an immediate threat. And the fact that the giant seemed more interested in stopping her from killing Derrak than dispatching her himself...

Laurel looked up at the very large, very silent man.


"Who are you?" She grunted tightly, because of the extreme pain.

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Amaurea
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Zemear clinched his jaw at the girl's cry of pain. People were fragile, right. He had to remember that. Covi had spent hours drilling the capacity of Zemear's strength into his head.
"No, you cannot rip the door off the wall" He had said. "Don't pick up ANYTHING made of glass," Covi would chide. Zemear had always felt uncomfortable with the topic, especially when his defensive side kicked in and it was difficult to tell friend from foe, like now. But the girl had asked him a question, a question he could not answer.

The man now sat, completely bewildered on the ground and Zemear could tell from his expression that the man wouldn't be a threat for at least a few minutes. Giving Derrak a warning glare, the half giant pointed his broad sword to the sky and rammed it's blade into the ground. His hand remained on the hilt as he turned to face Laural.

Because he was unsure which party was to blame for the violence in the first place, Zemear's expression didn't change too much. He supposed he could apologize for the pain he'd caused her, sense it was not intentional, so when he looked at her, he conveyed that in his steely blue eyes. Knelling down somewhat, he offered the girl his free hand and cast a questioning look toward the recovering Derrak. Perhaps Laural would explain the situation. Perhaps she'd stab him. That was ok, he supposed. He was prepared for both.





Covi flinched when he heard the girl cry out. Shaking his head he sighed and peered at the three, recalling the last time his younger brother had ripped a door off it's hinges. To be fare, it was a funny experience. The door was locked...

Covi kept his eyes now on Derrak, considering that his brother had his back to the man. He'd done a good thing by placing his weapon between them, but one never knew what might happen behind one's back. Though Covi was considerably smaller than Zemear, he still knew some basic defense techniques should Derrak become a problem.

He supposed he could throw rocks at him or something.
"In sleep dreams embody our hopes and our future, but when dreams escape into reality, they become nightmares"
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The Inkweaver
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Watching that massive sword sink several inches into the ground sent a cold chill through Laurel's body. The massive man crouched down and reached toward her, and Laurel's first instinct was to shrink away. Why wasn't the man saying anything? And the other, watching from the shadows... he wasn't moving either. Meanwhile, Renata could be miles away, lost and confused--Laurel couldn't waste any more time thinking. She reached out with her Etoylaithe-Shynnesh, the gift of Inner Sight that had been passed to her through the line of the royal family of Andar. What she found reminded her of the lombrel she had befriended back on Murinda, whose name was "Fergu-an-Gerdu", or "son of mountains." Whoever this large man was (perhaps it was partly giant, being fully head-and-shoulders taller than any man she had ever seen!) he presented no more threat to her than Gerdu had. Armed with this belief, she accepted his outstretched hand, and gasped as he lifted her easily to her feet.

She continued to watch him closely.
"Why don't you speak?" She asked.

Just then, Derrak grunted. Laurel's eyes widened as she saw the gigantic broadsword sweep in an upward arc, headed for the silent man's unprotected back. Without thinking, she lunged around him and placed her own sword between the blade and its target.


"Look out!" she yellled to the man she was protecting.

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Amaurea
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Zemear heard her question, but then he saw her move. The man behind him lurched forward, causing the air around him to Ripple. Zemear did not need to see Derrak to know where he was. With some strange elegance, the half giant lifted himself and used his partly buried blade to pivot in a tight circle. He spun just in time to hear Laural's blade clash with the larger one of their attacker. The true enemy made himself very obvious now, and Zemear wasn't going to wast anymore time assessing the situation.

His broad sword yanked from the ground and flashed to life, arcing through the air and aiming itself for Derrak's left shoulder. Zemear hoped this would draw the man's attention away from Laural, seeing as one's arm was much more important then some half elf's blade.

His free hand reached out for Laural, should she need a steady brace after Derrak's lade impacted hers.





Oh, things were getting real now. Covi almost felt sorry for Derrak. Watching the massive form of his brother wield his normally two handed weapon with ease always gave Covi concern for anyone else involved. A small smirk came to his face. The poor girl still hadn't heard a word out of his brother, and she never would. Maybe when all the carnage was over, he'd step in and help ...translate.
"In sleep dreams embody our hopes and our future, but when dreams escape into reality, they become nightmares"
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The Inkweaver
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Laurel caught the full impact of Derrak's stroke on her wrist, and she fell backward with a cry--right into the waiting arm of the large, silent man. Catching the momentum from him, Laurel sprang back to her feet--

Just in time to feel as if her chest was suddenly engulfed in fiery pain. She looked down as a green light exploded from her collar, and then she looked upward as a crackling sound told her that the Treestone was activating off of some unintentional impulse she had given, and making the branches of the tree grow. She saw them bend down and wrap over the large man's sword-arm, as he had been in the very act of almost dismembering poor Derrak.
Laurel used the brief respite to turn her attention toward the shadowy figure in the forest.

All right, you! she called as the forest responded to her will, thickening and moving and pushing whoever it was out into the open.

Come out where we can see you!
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Amaurea
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Zemear's momentum suddenly came to a yanking halt. Growling in opposition, the half giant struggled against the pacifistic tree for only a second before he allowed his other hand to free itself from Laural's figure. He assessed his situation and took note of the strange light springing from Laural's frame, but the other man caught his attention. Could he control trees? Perhaps Zemear could still be affective, despite the overzealous shrubbery. Skeptically, Zemear looked at Derrak. Derrak looked at Zemear.

With a thin smirk, the half giant clinched his free fist, drawing it back and plunging it forward in Darrek's direction. Swords were nice weapons, but for Zemear, they weren't altogether necessary.





Covi blinked as branches twined about his brother's arm. Though, a grin alighted on his face at the prospect of a tree keeping his brother at bay. Sure enough, Zemear continued to attack. Covi was certain his brother would bite the enemy if the situation called for it.

Caught up in his amusement, Covi became startled as the trees and branches around him decided to become active as well. The bushes parted ways, and his own chosen hiding spot rebelled against him, not only shrinking away but thrusting him out in the open for all to see.


Hey! Covi yelped as he staggered to his feet. Out of all the forests you decide to pick a fight in, it has to be one with demon plants? Really? Ahem...

The smaller, yet older brother cleared his throat and peered around, sheepishly resting a hand on his only weapon, a small dagger.

I suppose a man can't mind his own business by watching other people's business...
"In sleep dreams embody our hopes and our future, but when dreams escape into reality, they become nightmares"
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The Inkweaver
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Renata could see the curve of the road ahead. Delaria was only a dot on the horizon. They had left the contingent of soldiers far behind, but something drove the tall woman (taller even than Laurel!) to continue her furious pace. It was all Renata could do to keep up as they plunged into a deep forest on the edge of the road--

Oh tarnation!

Renata wasn't sure who cried out in a loud voice: Chanka or the short, swarthy, muscular figure they slammed into. Together the three figures tumbled out of the forest in a heap, and Renata yelped as her foot twisted painfully under the stranger's knee.

Renata! a familiar voice cried, and an inhuman bellow accompanied it.
Renata struggled to her feet and finally beheld a sight she had wanted to see ever since she answered the call of the strange woman with the fire


Laurel! She gasped happily, standing to show her friend that she was all right.
Laurel had her sword drawn, and very close to her stood a brawny man much taller than she was--about the same height as Chanka, the girl noticed. The man held another man in his large hands--this second man was badly wounded and had evidently only just fainted. With practiced concern, the big man set aside the unconscious man and grunted as he moved to check on the man Chanka had tripped over.
The woman herself had already risen to her feet, which prompted Laurel to immediately train her weapon upon her.

Who are you? The Elf-maiden demanded hotly. Are you the one who kidnapped my friend? By Lackerrin, if I find you have harmed her--

Laurel! Renata reached out and put a hand on her friend's arm. It's all right, she is a friend!

If anything, Chanka put in, eying the sword, I would say that I rescued your friend here! She would have been arrested by Lady Iona's soldiers if the two of us had not gotten away!

Laurel relaxed and lowered her blade, still keeping a weather eye on the mismatched strangers behind her. Who are you, then? she asked.

The woman lifted her chin.
My name is Chanka and I am--or I was--a mermaid.

Renata gasped; she had heard of mermaids, but only in the fairy stories her brother Andron invented, which he culled from the books he was always reading.
Laurel, however, only waved her hand impatiently.
A citizen of the water-kingdom? What business have you on land?

I-- Chanka felt her voice catch in her throat as she remembered the dying merman whom she had abandoned so long ago; was he truly still alive? I came here seeking aid for one of our own who is wounded. She recalled the Wind-Man and anger twisted in her chest. I was lured here on promises that I could find the thing I needed, but they were false! And now he will die--

No! Renata cried, reaching for Chanka's hand. Your friend is wounded, you say? I have something that will help-- she reached into her pocket and pulled out the tin of talatha-balm. This comes from a healing plant in our world. It will remedy any wound or illness.

Chanka accepted the little tin, noting that the contents of a container barely bigger than her own eyeball would scarcely be enough to cover the wound on Gondu's fin, not to mention the terrible gash in his side left by the shark's teeth. Then, too, there was the matter of the feather Lady Kish had mentioned. You are kind, Renata, She said, But I am afraid that in order for any land-dweller's remedy to work under water, the draught must be mixed with the feather of a creature that is both beast and bird.

Beast and bird? asked Laurel suddenly, you mean like a gryphon? To the astonishment of Renata and Chanka together, Laurel reached into her pouch and pulled out a long, brown feather, which she offered to Chanka. I found this near where Renata disappeared, and I thought it was a clue to her disappearance. Now I know that it was probably reserved for you. You may have it, if it will save your friend.

Chanka was finding it difficult to breathe, even though she had human lungs. She had never dreamed that another being would show her such unmerited kindness. Indeed! He may yet live now! Thank you so much! She turned to Renata. I can finally return to the sea, she said, since I have found the cure I came for. I will never forget this gift; if ever you have need of the assistance of the Mer-folk, I swear on my own life that you will have it! Thank you! I must go! She turned and ran off toward the coastline before anyone could utter a word.

On her way there, Chanka felt a familiar tug around her body as a strong breeze began to wrap itself around her....

>>>>>

Once she had gone, Renata turned to Laurel.


So, she began slowly, eying the two strangers behind them, Who are your friends?


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Amaurea
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To say his gentility overcame Darrak's broken form, was certainly kind. Zemear never enjoyed the thought of someone preying upon unarmed creatures, though Laural, the half-giant had found, was anything but unarmed. He dropped the unconscious man to the ground, at least such that nothing else would brake. Human bodies were so bloody frail.

But a voice caught his attention. Covi's beginning sentence, interrupted by a help and accompanied by two bodies, excluding his own, flailing through the trees. One woman almost reached himself in height, and her structure at once sparked curiosity within Zemear. She was not human. The much shorter, rather average looking girl beside her, however, was a typical human female. He listened silently as the girls spoke, while calmly approaching his nearly crippled brother and helping him to his feet.




Seriously!, First the trees push and prod me, then someone kicks me! Am I invisible or---"

His brother's large hand clapped atop Covi's mouth and the smaller of the two brothers stood, watching the exchange.

Zemaer.... Covi said after his mouth was released. They've seen a griffin.....



Shhhh.....

The larger hissed and set his eyes on the mermaid, as he suspected. She ran off delighted of gathering something she needed. Apparently the two girls, Laural and Renata, had been searching for one another and thusly, found each other. And he and Covi were standing there with only the mundane problems they were use to, resting silently in the back of their minds, because, at least for Zemear, this venture was a whole lot more interesting. He prodded his brother as Renata asked who they were, and Covi, catching his breath, spoke up as pleasantly as he could, considering he's been attacked by a bush and a mermaid in the same minute.



Um, hello. I'm Covi, and this oversize Behemoth behind me is my brother, Zemear. He's speechless- at what, I'm not sure, regardless, don't expect him to say anything.

Covi smiled, yet grinned inwardly, knowing his introduction was irritating his brother. He's not being rude or anything. I think he likes you.

Covi paused as an unpleasant growl over him and looked up sheepishly at his brother.

Ahem, anyway, we best be going. I'm sure someone will take care of that guy...

Covi said, pointing at Darrak's limp figure. He began to stride away, but Zemear's huge hand gripped him by the collar and pulled him back around to the group.

Or, we're going to stay and offer our assistance in anyway possible.

Covi muttered, with a half smile at how well his brother was able to communicate even without a voice.
"In sleep dreams embody our hopes and our future, but when dreams escape into reality, they become nightmares"
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