Broken Shields and Shattered Veils

[Dirtbear]

There was a time when we knew not of this world's vices. The ignorance of the celestials and demons who watched behind the veil was immense. No one knew of the treachery hidden behind the hero of Lantar. No one saw it. I did. I knew. I saw everything that swarmed in his eyes. We walked side by side and he seemed to cast long stares into the unknown. I recall the evening in Thelia, we had made our way to High King Edgar. Edgar had asked him what had befallen the Queen of Hyr. 'The Queen of Hyr has made her way past the Veil.' He had told him. Edgar had regretted asking, I could see the strain in his face. The war that would come of it. Queen of Hyr was royalty and her bloodline flowed in the veins of the Noble Elf-King, Tanis.


The hero of Lantar was my dear friend. We made it to the south and that's when he began growing dark. His eyes were always cold. His words grew scarcer. He had a dark coldness that could chill the volcano's in the dwarven kingdom. I left him that day. He had muttered something that froze my heart. It had become clear and I feared for the worse. 'I sent her across. I know the darkness, my friend. It's coming...' I tried to stop him from the treachery he would leave on the world. I left him. I knew that the time was coming. My friend... My brother...


I know not the coming events that will crash into Volna. But I will prepare. I will have something to save this world. I will make sure he doesn't end this like he did in Lantar...

Aric Borandis


Commander;Blackguard Company


Winter,Year of the Fallen

​

Volna, The world we reside in. (Still needs some work)


No God Modding


No Bunnying (unless allowed)


Sexual Content - Should be fade to black to anything that goes past kissing. No removal of cloths or caressing, groping... anything super sexual...


Under the dim candlelight it was hard to concentrate on the letters and correspondences that came through the company. ' I can't imagine how it would be like if I actually was in Edgar's position. Being High King over all five nations of the Imperial Alliance must be a rough and stressful life. I wouldn't have asked for this position however. . . it had to be filled.' The cracks on the wooden desk covered with parchment and ink was becoming a permanent sight. The candle stand to the right corner was beginning to overflow and become one with the table. 'Sort of like me in a way. If my arse didn't make it off this damnable chair, I'll end up a statue and permanently be writing tediously everyday. The strain in my forearm's after countless writing was unbearable. I would've rather been training the rest of the men and women under my command.' There had been many recruits coming in and trying out to be a part of the company but only a few have managed to get in. 'I feel terrible to have turned away so many but this life is just not cut out for everyone...'


After standing and walking around the oak desk, Aric paused beside the floor pane window that overlooked the courtyard.


'The weathered stones that paved the roads were a bit nostalgic of a time where all I did was walk them. However, this was what needed to be done. The worn books that gathered beside the window were all ledgers and journals of the time I started the company. It was a long road to where I've managed to find myself standing. I just hope the recent recruiting and the training is enough to help Volna.'


Walking away from the window and casting the dark velvet drapes over it, Aric passed the desk and blew out the candle. He walked to the sturdy oak door that led to the stairs below to the second floor. Aric paced his way down the steps and around the corner to enter the sleeping quarters of the higher ranks of the company. He passed men and a few women he trusted with his life and he greeted them each one by name. Aric made it to the other stairway that lead to the ground floor. Aric rubbed his rough graying beard before sighing and walking down the steps. Making it to the ground floor he opened the door that led to the dining hall. As he sat along the back, he had lifted his fur cloak over his head to hide away from the crowd.


The succulent smells of meat and the fruity tart aroma of the ales that flowed in the dining hall was the best around Hyr. 'It took me ages to find AND convince the best cooks and brewmasters from around Ezma. The silver fur from one of the artic wolves from the north was alot warmer in the winter than most of the cloaks I've seen. And the hood was real nice to hide behind when I watched out in the hall.' Men filled the room of the hall and they gossiped and gambled. In the corner, there was someone who didn't seem like he belonged. 'I recognize him from somewhere but. . . I can't place my finger on it. He looks new but has that seasoned look of a veteran from the wars ages ago. Though, I don't see him being there at his age. He must have been a babe at when the Dirac Rebellion began. . . That war. . .'


Under the darkness of the hood, Aric sat lost in his past. He kept against the wall and watched blankly across the hall.


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Across the table sat a large, hefty man. His face was slightly pungent and pitted with scars from acne. His brow was protruding like a trolls, which was befitting of his name, Giant. "Oho! A liddle pup like ye shouldn't be playing wif dah big boys. Migh' cost ye mor' then ye got!" He exclaimed as he slammed a domino onto the table. Giant had scored fifteen points. "HAHA! Ten mor' an' I'll be 70 thalers risher!" The man sitting across from the freakish abomination sat and fingered the bones, dominoes, in his hand. He calculated out his next move and slid the piece in between Giant's last move. "I'm surprised you can count. How about you count that out for me." He said slyly.


The brute began pointing at each of the pips on the tiles. Giant began straining his face as he mouthed the numbers. Ten. . .fifteen. . .twenty. . .twent--- "ARGHHH! Ye cheatin' bastard!" He yelled out after he finished counting. The man smiled and simply pulled the bag from the man who had held the money for them. "Now now. No need to be name calling in a fine establishment such as this." He stood and filled his bag with the thalers he won. "Maybe someday, you can show me what the Big Boys can do." He said mockingly. He laughed and walked away from the table to fill out the rest of his application for the recruitment process.


The ruckus in the background was immense and the curses Giant threw out was incomprehensible yet baffling. The man grabbed the paperwork and pretended to read all the fine print. He found the line at the bottom and signed his name. Ehren "Roman" Antillus of Nair. He placed it on the desk and awaited the arbiter's mandate for the assessment that the recruits took to assess their skill and readiness.


"ARRRH! YE RUTTIN DOG! ANOTHA WAGER! THIS TIME, STRENTGH!" He yelled out in a furious howl. Roman smiled devilishly and began to roll his sleeve over his bicep, "Well, by all means. Let's see what this... Big Boy has in him." He said. Walking over the the table and grasping the other mans hand in a arm wrestling match.


Giant let out a grunt as his lackey came over to judge the match. At a count of 3, the match had begun. The strain in Giant's face was one that exceeded the potential of ugliness he held. His giant arm was forcing Roman's over to his right. Roman had been struggling with this monster. He was unsure whether he was going to win. His mood went from joyous to concentrated as he attempted to actually win this contest of strength. He was losing at the moment and the greed in Giant's eyes betrayed him.


"Oh HO! Ye fool! Ye think a mutt like ye can amount to mush her'! He mockingly yelled out. Landing spittle in Roman's face. Roman held his hold at the angle they were at and with his left hand wiped the spit off his face. Once his hand passed over his face, it exerted a darkly sneer. His eyes had slowly crept into a sinister glare. His heart raced and his breathing became deep and controlled by the rage erupting inside. A primal reaction occurred in his veins and he gripped Giant's hand with ferociousness.

Mutt... MUTT... MUTT!




​

Roman forced Giant's arm to his right. The pressure built up in the power of Roman's grip was beginning to show in Giant's labored face. He gasped as he tried to get his arm back towards Roman's right however failed to go against the brutal wave that came out of his opponent. Roman kept putting power into his arm and pushed further until he had prepared a final push. He roared out and slammed Giant's immobile arm into the table. A loud pop echoed behind Roman's roar followed by Giant's screams. Roman released the loser's arm and it laid sickly on the table. Dislocated and probably torn at the elbow. Giant and his lackey hurried over to the post as Giant muttered a string of curses under his babbling.


Roman lifted himself from the table and his face began to shift back to a more joyous form and he smiled devilishly. "You might want to get that looked at. I wouldn't want you to be cripple. It might kill your spirit." He suggested with a venomous undertone. Roman walked over to a table by the chefs kitchen and sat there while he waited for the cider he ordered.

 

[Altera]

This place reeks! It was the first thought in her mind as she entered the rather unassuming building. For the dozenth time that day, she questioned her decision to choose the Blackguard Company mercenaries over the Shining Legion. It really simply came down to which she figured would be less pretentious, and given the two names, she sided with the darker sounding one. More often than not, in her experience, those that entitled themselves as shining, holy, devout, righteous, and any other adjective in that vein were the most corrupt peoples one could stumble upon. This place though, it reeked of violence and stupidity, and not the sort that she enjoyed.


Her approach to the table where a tired man sat, shuffling his papers about in a way that made him appear more busy then she guessed he was. "I'm here to join the Blackguard Company." The announcement from such a woman drew more attention than even her entry had drew many gazes. Female mercenaries were slowly becoming a larger portion of the heavy mercenary business, but were still quite a rare sight. She felt their pulses quicken, even the arbiter at the table, Taran, if the signature he had just written was any indication. The air of confidence she exuded was enough that he quietly handed her the necessary documents to fill out to pledge under the mercenary guild. With an ever so slight smile to him she took the papers and found a seat where she could observe most everyone within the building with as little movement as possible.


The papers were standard fare, but she still read over each of them carefully. Old habits die hard. She mumbled to herself as she read over them, crossing out various parts of the contract and writing in her own 'negotiations'. While many were content to get whatever the guild handed them, she had her way, and she doubted the fools around her would be overly hard to convince. A small charm spell and whispered words when she locked eyes with Taran again and it would be a sealed deal.


After making the edits she desired, she read back through the papers once more and then, with a gesture over the paper, erased the words she no longer needed while merging the ones she added and edited into the rest of it. Her sharp, noble writing style shifted and changed to match the more common and simple writing style the original paper was originally written in. "There we go. Now the signature." She went to grab a quill and ink, used to having one easily within reach, and found nothing but empty space. After a quick look around, she located one, but it was back on the desk, practically hidden behind a stack of papers. "Much too tedious . . ." She mumbled to herself, and instead bit quickly into her finger and signed in blood. The long signature space was occupied by one word, only three characters, formed in sanguine red. Vel. The name she had chosen to go by long ago and kept till this day. It occasionally caused suspicion, but nothing a knife in the shadows couldn't fix.


Leaving her seat, she made her way gracefully back over to the desk and plopped the papers down in front of Taran. As intended, she met his eyes and worked her charm through them alone, giving him a wink and a few empty promises. He seemed much more awake now and set aside the current papers to go over hers. She gave a sultry smile and turned away, making her way down the aisle between the tables laid out somewhat haphazardly, as if the place saw too many barroom brawls to place things back in their proper places each time.


Upon returning to her seat once more she motioned over one of the barmaids and ordered their finest drink, tipping the girl generously before she even returned to hurry her along. The flavor was almost certainly not up to her standards, but she hoped it would at least drown out some of the stench of the room. A part of her wanted to leave, but she remained behind due to an incessant itching that she would thoroughly regret exiting the room so quickly. So she remained, watching the various characters wander the area, noting any of that were of note. The one who stood out the most, obviously, was the one who had just raucously shouted at another who cradled his arm beneath a blubbering face. Hmm. Seems I was too preoccupied in my editing. It was a pretty atrocious agreement though . . . A faint frown crossed her features as she regarded the man at his table. Something is off with that one. Damnable people. She growled inwardly as his identity was obfuscated by the large number of people within. One could tell a lot by the scent of another's blood, and SOMETHING in here certainly had an interesting aroma, even if it seemed to be covered in a layer of grime. She was drawn out of her thoughts by the barmaid delivering her drink to her and telling her to let her know if she needed anything more. She gave a simple nod as she sipped at the drink. "Less terrible than Thelia at least." Another, larger sip followed her words and she distracted herself with her drink and watching the fools mill about the room.

 

[XxJuliaxX]

It had been a lengthy hike from the countryside of Thelia to this unpretentious building within the borders of Hyr, but Cynthia had selected a form that was healthy and agile, as was the majority of the figures she depicted in her paintings. Her legs had barely fatigued, and her arms, burdened with her entire art inventory, were hardly weary. She recalled the days, several years ago, in which her arms would exhaust quickly as she hauled her supplies upwards to the crest of the hill, where she would spend hours in a realm where absolutely everything was utterly flawless. She would miss her personal spot at the pinnacle of the hilltop as it overlooked the crystalline pond that reflected the sky, the swans that drifted gracefully across the lucid water's surface. As she approached the building, a minuscule part of her yearned to turn back, pleading that this was merely a snafu. This microscopic part of her was crestfallen with guilt from abandoning her home without a word, leaving her parents in anguish. However, she would ignore it. She had journeyed this far for the sheer purpose of bringing use to her ability. Someday, she would make her parents honored to have her as their daughter, not only because of her impeccable talent in art, which had been the source of her mother's pride, but because of the lives she had saved, the difference she had made in the world.


Clamor and discord blasted in her ears as she reached the dingy building, and she instantly flinched at the sound. Living secluded in the forests in the outskirts of Thelia had come with the promise of peace and tranquility. Cynthia's life as a mercenary would be much different, and once more, the infinitesimal part of her protested, nostalgic for her life in the lavish, harmonious woodlands that she would never return to again. Determinedly, she lifted her chin and resolutely ignored the fragment of her that felt this way as she proceeded to her new career in the Blackguard Company. The entrance was accessed through a simple brown door with a plain wooden doorknob that creaked slightly as Cynthia pulled it ajar. She absorbed the rambunctious commotion before her, a grimace flashing across her face before vanishing completely. Her appearance captivated many gazes, though she was dressed modestly. The painting she had absorbed was depicted with a vest the color of charcoal, laced together with black string, over a faded gray long sleeve shirt. Her legs were covered by austere ebony pants, along with durable sepia sheepskin boots. It was not rare attire.


However, her face stood out drastically from her lackluster apparel. There was a poetry to it, a virtuous grace. It was perfectly shaped - a sharp, elegant nose protruding from the center; full, rosy lips accompanied by dimples when she smiled, all complemented by high cheekbones with a lovely pink hue to them. Her eyes resembled the colors of a kaleidoscope; coral, violet, emerald, and sapphire fusing together and then separating, the shades swirling together in her irises. Encompassing them were naturally thick eyelashes that curled upwards.


Her hair, noticeable from a distance, drew the most appeal. Amethyst waves cascaded down her back, bouncing as she strutted forward. It spilled in loose twists and spirals to her hips, a waterfall gushing from the back of her head. Strands of it were propelled backward as she strode towards a front desk, but it did not tangle. She was her dream self.


Cynthia had been intending for this impression. A pompous smile crossed her face. She had already gained the attention of much of the members of this company, and she basked in it, ignoring the guilt that stung her for relishing their laudatory recognition of her. It was a perquisite of being a . . . She halted, a foot away from the front desk. What was she even? The thought had emerged in her mind countless times before, and each time she doubted herself. Was it her artistic prowess that brought her this ability? Nevertheless, she would not be able to live with the fact that she had been gifted with this power, but refused to bring it a beneficial purpose. It was the reason she had come - to be important. Her mind shifted to the image of a handsome gray wolf, still distinctly detailed in her memory, though she worried that it would not be for much longer. She once again recalled the glorious sensation that had overcome her with the idea that she was at last significant to someone's life. It was the reason she had come.


The mixture of the putrid stench of sweat and the mouthwatering aroma of warm cuisine overwhelmed her nostrils as she stepped forward and laid a hand on the table before her, a weary man's eyes lifting from a heavy amount of paperwork to scrutinize her face. "This is the Blackguard Company, correct?"


"Yes," the arbiter confirmed, clearly curious, as if he were experiencing something peculiar.


"I'd like to join," Cynthia declared, dismissing the observation and ostentatiously tossing her voluminous hair.


The man, whose name was Taran, based on the name tag on his desk, nodded as he promptly handed her several forms to sign. After collecting the papers, she observed the contents of the spacious room before her, looking upon the drunken giants and dwarfs with obvious contempt. She reluctantly refrained from cramming her ears with cotton, as the turbulence was much to her discomfort, but was able to find a seat at the bar, from which the scent of savory food wafted into her nostrils. Beside her was a young woman that appeared not much older than herself, imbibing a frothy beverage. Glancing around the room, she perceived hardly any other female mercenaries. Pretending not to notice the one next to her, she dutifully extracted a black pen from the satchel she carried and skimmed over the paperwork she had been given.

 

[Dirtbear]

The cider finally made it's way past the hinged doors of the kitchens to the bar. A young women closed in on Roman and she smiled wide, "Here you go, sir. A Honey Spiced Cider from the cellars." She said as she placed the steaming cider down in front of him. "That'll be a thaler for pending recruits. It'll be free when you get in. Good luck." She said. Roman handed her a thaler from his bag, placing it onto her palm. His fingers lingering over her skin, "Thank you. Maybe a name to call you by so when I do join, I can come for you..." He softly swirled the words across the distance between them. She blushed setting a pink on her cheeks and she giggled. "Hehe. That is charming. Though name's are powerful. You can't just give them away just like that." She replied. A wolfish smile creeped on his face. He enjoyed the chase but did agree with her statement. "I see, then mayb---" With a shout from across the room, Roman was cut off and turned his head to see a end table being launched towards him.


"Blasted shite! Yer dead! Come 'ere and face me!" Giant shouted out.


He kicked away from his chair and released his prized blade from it's sheath. With one swift vertical flick, he cut through the table in half. The remnants of the table landed inches from the woman he was just speaking to. A piece of wood splintered and pierced her in her shoulder. A shout rang out and Roman turned to find the source. His face fell dark...

How... Dare... He....




​

A carnal rage overwhelmed his senses. His face set and with each stride, his movements calculated. He flicked his blade to his right and closed the gap with ease.

Like the sands... the blood will quench it's eternal thirst.... let me be it's harbinger...

​

He cast a glare into the eyes of his mark. Giant held his arm and struggled to get his mace out of it's bindings. He was awkward and embarrassing to watch. Roman cast a look of disgust and smiled devilishly as he began his work. He nimbly stepped to his right around Giant in the open dining hall. Roman spun and raised his swordarm high vertically, severing Giant's injured arm. Another step, a diagonal sweep of his backhand across his back. Roman swung around Giant before he could react to all his moves and closed in on Giant until he stood inches from his face. His blade pierced upward into the grotesque man's body and Roman watched as the life fled from the whites of his eyes. The spray of blood lined the tables around them. The room stood deathly still while the two men stood covered in the crimson gore. A laugh had shattered the silence as Giant's body slumped to the floor. Roman's eyes were chaotic and his smile a sight of a demon. Blood splattered over his face and his clothing covered in the other man's blood. Roman held his laugh for a few seconds until it slowly died in his throat. He walked over to where Giant's arm was laying and picked it up. A grin lifted from his lips, "Might someone offer this man a hand? Hahahahahahahah!" Roman tossed the arm onto the corpse pooling over the hardwood deck. He removed his blade from the chest of the body and wiped the mess off on Giant's clothing. Pleased with it's form, he placed it back in it's home.


Eyes were on him as he walked back in a joyous splendor. He lifted his seat and sat down in front of the woman. He grinned and reached a bloody hand over to the long blonde hair she wore. Caressing the sandy locks turning them to a strawberry blend. "Enjoyed the show? Hehehe." He sat there and looked over the injured shoulder and frowned with a face, "You might want to get that looked at, love."

 

[Kana]

'How....simple' was the first thought that came to mind as Edana reached the dull building. Opening the oak wood door, the aroma of blood and sweat overwhelmed her. Unable to concentrate she stood still with her eyes closed still trying to gain her senses back.


Finally after regaining her sensitive olfactory system back she continued on wary of her surroundings. She was immediately greeted by the sight of a dreary bar filled with boisterous dwarves, putrid giants, and rowdy humans gathered around an area close to the kitchen. They all seemed to be staring in disturbed shock. 'It seems I missed a huge brawl.' Edana chuckled in her mind, as she walked in.


Carefully wandering around the sizable crowd, she disregarded the variety of stares shooting in her direction.Some of them lust-filled, others with curiosity, a few filled with irritation at her blocking what ever scene was going on near the kitchen, and some filled with animosity. Being half-Eladrin would not gain her many comrades here. Many viewed Eladrin as pretentious and chauvinistic for their detached view of the world, and the prejudiced view of other races. However, Edana was willing to overlook her heritage and hoped that she could prove their dogmatic outlook was wrong. Not noticing an Eladrin or Sylvan among them, she gulped anxiously, but continued onward to the front desk.


A speechless overworked man did not seem to notice her as she approached the table, his attention on the growing crowd in the middle of the room. "This is the place to apply for the Black Company? Yes?" she inquired trying to gain the stupefied man's attention. Once gaining back his thoughts the arbiter gawked at her in shock at her appearance and question. "Your kind never rarely venture into this land. Why join?" he probed, while handing her the heavy set of papers. "I do believe that is none of your business." Edana refuted, snatching the papers out of the man's hand. She knew that what she did was unmannerly, but she was already irritated and needed a semi-quiet spot to organize her thoughts.


Edana casually drifted over to one of the oddly vacated tables near the kitchen not noticing the crowds stunned looks as she seated herself at an empty table. As she shoved her way through the horde of bodies she managed to see what caused the bloody stench in the area. A looked of disgust marred her features when she sighted the mutilated body. The man's body had a gaping chest wound that seemed to have a never ending stream of blood that seemed to surge out of it, staining the wooden floors a deep scarlet. Analyzing the body for a couple of seconds she noticed the one of the arms were missing. It seemed to have been slashed off, now laying useless on top of the body. Edana exhaled sharply in an attempt to calm her anger. 'Such lack of regard for life. ' she thought appalled, her thoughts fixated on the mangled body. Walking away from the site she chose an unoccupied table.


"What is that girl doing doesn't she know that green haired man is crazy?"


"why doesn't she run?"


"she must have a lot of guts, or just stupid."


The asinine comments came one after the other.After a couple seconds into signing she complained under her breath frustrated, having a great desire to burn the infuriating piece of parchment. Her powers raged inside her as she became increasingly frustrated while reading the second page of the large stack. Not only was the paperwork enraging but also the moronic comments her highly sensitive ear were picking up from the crowd. Her tolerance reaching it's limit she glared up at the gossipping crowd. The bands on her pale wrist turning into glowing crimson rings.





"Would all of you feeble-minded idiots shut your mouths?!" , she roared forcefully, the entire crowd silenced themselves, watching her fury blare through the firey rings on her wrist. Satified She goes back to the troublesome papers growling under breath.

 

[Altera]

The sound of the door opening and closing barely registered in her mind amongst the tumult around. The drink she nursed served no purpose other than to mask the myriad of terrible smells from her possible compatriots-to-be. It was neither alcoholic nor flavorful enough for her liking, but the sting of the alcohol in her sensitive nose took the edge off the rest of the She hoped all of her tasks would be solo or at least that there were some less offensive people within the guild.


As she raised the mug towards her lips once more, her hand jerked and quickly pulled her head back, ending with some froth on her nose and chin. With haste, she withdrew a small handkerchief from the folds of her clothes and used it to wipe away the foam.


Damn it, Xalan! What’re you screwing around for? She thought in an irritated manner.


A voice resonated back in her mind. It sounded like a thousand rocks being ground to dust by an even more numerous amount of metallic shards. She enjoyed it. Stop being human and pay attention, lass. You’re drowning out the good stuff in that swill.


Good stuff? What goo- Ooh. The sweet, aromatic scent of the outdoors, mixed with that of confidence and something she labeled close to innocence, and one other outstanding scent she failed to place. It was, if nothing else, something most everyone else in the building lacked. While she didn’t usually pay much bother to those around her, the sheer difference in the new entrants aura required a look. She turned her head to look over her shoulder, back at the desk where she previously turned her papers in. She saw little of the new girl other than the mass of perfect, purple hair she let drape to her hips. As the violet haired girl spoke, Vel turned back to her drink and couldn't help but smile to herself.


Making sure she had firm control of her arm once more, she drank from the flagon once more. The girl positioned herself in the seat next to Vel, but didn’t pay her much mind. Setting her drink down, she was about to greet her when a foul odor hit her nose and she nearly retched. The vilest smell of blood filled the air as something thudded to the floor. She was too absorbed in her thoughts and the new arrival before now to notice a fight breaking out across the room. The thump had been a man’s arm, just as vile as the blood that was now pooling on the floor. The following ‘fight’ was short and ended as quickly as it began. The man slumped forward into his own sanguine fluid and laid there motionless as his former opponent wiped his blade on his corpse.


Perhaps there are a few people in this place of note. Shifting her gaze back to the woman seated next to her, she smiled slightly. "Joining the Co-"


Her question was cut abruptly short as a shout rang out across the dining hall. She was quite adept at ignoring the discord that often surrounded her, but the woman's high pitched yell successfully grated its way into her mind. Closing her eyes, she began to count, fighting the urge to turn around and yell at the girl for disturbing her, regardless of the cause. The tickling in the back of her mind as the bar maid's blood leaked from her shoulder didn't help either.


After restraining herself and reaching the grand number of seven, she opened her eyes and looked back to the woman in the seat next to her, pulling back on a pleasant smile. It was almost immediately wiped off by the horrible stench of the horrendous 'thing' of a man called Giant's blood spraying out into the open. She retched, her sensitive nose being assaulted by the rank smell only she detected.


Taking a moment to recover, she turned and peered towards the source of the stench. She couldn't see well over the bodies of the various mercenaries, all staring at whatever had transpired there. She cough a glimpse of a pool of crimson, then an arm, and finally the lifeless body of one so called 'giant' lying in the expanding red as a second man walked away, looking quite pleased with himself. Vel made a face and regarded the man with a look of indifference. So he's the one with this odd scent about him . . . Can't say it's pleasing, but at least mildly less offensive. The view of him was briefly obscured as a rather angry looking woman passed in front of her, drawing her attention away.


Vel relaxed in her seat, an amused look on her face, as the girl took her own. Xalan's voice echoed within the confines of her mind. Seems things won't be as boring as you thought, eh, Lass?


Yes. Yes it certainly does. She turned back to the first girl and offered her hand. "Name's Vel. Pleasure to meet you."

 

[XxJuliaxX]

With a blasé gaze, Cynthia nonchalantly skimmed the forms she had been given, detecting nothing out of the ordinary as of yet and merely spending as little time as possible to ensure that she consented with all of the conditions and regulations that were displayed upon the paperwork. Uncapping the jet-black pen she had selected from her satchel, she brought the point to the paper in preparation to sign, but, at second glance, decided upon something more to her liking - a pen with violet ink, perhaps. To make her memorable. Before she was able to retrieve an alternate writing instrument from her bag, the sound of infuriated bellowing abruptly exploded in her delicate ears, and, ignited with curiosity, she abandoned her papers on the edge of the bar at which she was sitting as she swiveled in her chair towards the direction from which the shout had rung.


Several moments were required for her to identify the source of the uproar among the hordes of creatures - humans, giants, and elves alike - conversing with one another, although the raucous had become noticeably quieter, masking the origin of the thundering howl. But at last, Cynthia's kaleidoscope eyes caught sight of a young man whose hair reminded her of the canopy of fresh, healthy leaves that would veil the forest each summer as he fearlessly confronted another humanoid creature carrying far more mass than he. A giant, she knew. Who in his/her right mind would challenge someone, who could with ease crush him/her underfoot, to a duel? I could become a creature even stronger and larger than he, Cynthia mused. I could be as powerful as anyone here, if only I were able to paint skill into my pieces as well. However, she did not interfere with the skirmish that was about to take place. Her identity could not be revealed each time such a petty situation occurred. Not only this, but she was secretly interested in the outcome of the fight. When laying eyes upon the giant once again, she observed his maladroitness and his reckless expression regardless of the awkwardness with which his grubby fingers bore his mace; while the young man who had come to oppose him carried his sword comfortably and strode, though a raging fire burned in his eyes, with a certain dexterity and elegance. She realized that the beast's monstrous size would not do a sufficient amount to shield him from the wrath of the green-haired man


The battle did not last more than a few minutes. The two individuals had already seized the attention of nearly everyone in the room, a suspenseful silence in the air as every eye was trained on them, and she was almost certain that she could hear the heartbeats of all else in the chamber thumping in the intense desire to know who would be the champion of this brawl - or perhaps it was just her own pulse, which roared in her ears. Never before had she seen a man slaughter another, and something inside her told her that only one of the two would survive this dispute. Her focus returned as the man approached the giant, a grace in his step almost similar to that of a dancer, and Cynthia's eyes widened as he raised his sword. The giant's delayed reflexes gave his opponent a significant advantage, allowing him to adeptly hack at the beast's bulky body before the giant coudld even swing his mace. Both impressed and utterly sickened simultaneously, she examined the man with the forest green hair - a human, she assumed - maimed the brute's body smoothly and effortlessly, without a sign of difficulty or any misgivings at all.


Appalled, she observed the crimson of blood spray from the midst of the altercation, splattering onto then surrounding tables and wooden floor. None of the fluid had come from the young man who had encountered the beast; it all belonged to the giant himself. In an instant, his body sagged and he collapsed onto then solid timber flooring with a lifeless thud. A gasp escaped Cynthia's lips. She had witnessed the losses of countless lives before, as predators struggled for nourishment, but in the wilderness, when one being was sacrificed, another would be spared in turn. Not once in her life had she beheld one individual slay another in cold blood.


Although she was fascinated by the green-haired man's proficiency in sword fighting, sympathy and compassion boiled inside her. Was death really the punishment the brute deserved? The casualty with which his opponent had assassinated him disgusted her, caused her to feel nauseated. It seemed almost as though quarrels like this, those that resulted in one survivor only, were everyday events. Could the Blackguard Company afford to lose so many of their members to frivolous brawls such as the one she had now attended? Life was more than something one merely tossed away for the trivial purpose of satisfying one's fury. The more deeply she pondered over the matter, the less she found herself admiring the admittedly handsome young man who had obliterated the ungainly beast without a second thought. However, her thoughts, like clouds amassing together before a thunderstorm, were torn apart, shattered away until they undecided to return to the surface of her mind, by a feminine voice, though it was somewhat deep and gravelly, almost as if its owner had been through much in her life. It resonated from just beside Cynthia, and her head rotated to face its source, finding that it belonged to the woman whom she had spotted upon her entry to the building.


Though she was startled that anyone here would attempt to be sociable in a place like this, she managed a genial smile and, after a moment's hesitation, extended her right hand and gripped that of the girl who had greeted her. In her effort to shake her hand firmly, she perhaps was too stiff; she was not quite familiar with the gesture, as the only humans with whom she communicated frequently throughout her years were her own parents. Vel. It was simple, yet possessed a certain dignity and splendor, and the title felt sweet in her ears. It must be short for something else, of course. There was something she found appealing about nicknames - as though there were a secret name behind it, and the nickname was like a code that no stranger would comprehend. She had never devised a nickname for herself - she savored the sound of her own title, and there were few ways one could shorten it, anyway.


Her attention returned to the woman before her. There was a sort of dark aura about her, almost, but it could have easily been her imagination. However, she did not need to glance around the room again to know indubitably that a female in the Blackguard Company was an incredibly rare sight. And what were the chances that anyone else here would show her any camaraderie? A companion would surely be welcome. Cynthia reinforced her amicable smile before responding. "Nice to meet you too," she replied. "I'm Cynthia."

 

[Dirtbear]

(Rp Saving Poke)