The Cleansing of Eldor [RP]

Some more meaningless words were thrown at Pabla, and she shook her head in annoyance at the man she was currently trailing away from. A stranger thought it pertinent to get involve in her business, and now it seemed he was calling on her methods. Although she had not asked him of it, she was sure that the man had nothing better to say, they could not withstand an army with two people. The two of them were the only ones wanting to stand against the orcs, and she would rather save one innocent rather than none.


The village around her didn’t seem to understand that there was a force slowly suffocating them just past the brush. Ignorance was truly bliss; she could understand that by watching the children of the grove running through the streets. Every adult inside knew where that smoke cloud traced back to, but they only followed what the elders told them. Pabla was exactly the same as all of them, carelessly following behind the elders even as they lead them off a cliff. The girl shook her head; there was no way that the elders could be thinking of anything but what was best for the village.


It was this that made her question what she was doing, pausing briefly in front of her cabinet, about to grab some vials. Her hand twitched and began moving forward again, slipping a few of the lips through the gaps in her fingers and picking them up. A decision had been made inside her head the moment she was driven away from the circle, and she remembered it now. The orcs had gone much too close, and for the town’s survival she would have to go and play defense. This thought reminded her once again of the man’s ‘meaningless’ words, and her lips tightened slightly.


All that those words meant for her was a reminder on how she was selfish. With one swoop of somebodies axe, N’hoffei and she were going to die and Pabla had a feeling that it was the only reason she was doing it. It was thought she tried to rid herself of, by trying to remember where the main orc establishments were as she left her house. By following the river, she would end up straight up next to an encampment and would throw some vials into the surrounding forest. The biggest brunt of them was down by what used to be the sycamore grove, where she can put up some actual firm castings.


With those notes in mind, she pushed through the banyan tree once more and immediately her heart beat picked up. It was as if the instrument knew they weren’t allowed outside of the grove, but she ignored her conscientious. Gathering her courage, she was off for the strong flow of the river only a couple tree-spans away. It was there that she continued North, to where the orcs had recently taken over one of the other elf groves. Pabla had heard that someone from the village was now living in her grove, but she had yet to meet them.


When she got close enough to the bustling sounds of a village, and the water turned a much slimier color, she threw a vial. The bright pink liquid inside splattered and smoked as Pabla ran along the edge to throw the other three. It was quite simple throwing the vials, but now she had to run off to the sycamore grove to start her spells. Focus and energy was what it mostly took and after pacing around a sycamore about 300 times, she had got an idea of peace. It was with that she managed to calm herself enough to cast a long-affecting illusion, although it was simply a circle trick.


With a rather firm nod, she turned around and headed back to her grove, in a speed uncanny of her usual route. It was not in her best interest to be caught, but when she heard the rustle of the brush behind her and a “Hey, you there!” she realized she had been. Pabla did not heed to the man’s orders and he eventually yelled an order of “Stop”, and she slowly slowed down to a stop, but not by her own accord. The girl shook her head loose and suddenly forgot where she was going until and hand in cased her forearm. It was a guard, and he now stood next to her issuing a “Walk”, so that she did walk next to him.


The girl was being detained, but she couldn’t exactly remember why she was running in the first place, his powers messing with her normal brain pattern. It was shortly after she was dragged in front of the elders, almost tripping over her own two feet as she kept walking. Another order and she stopped, looking at Halcyon and the man standing with the elders, almost cringing. Words were being spewed from their mouths, but right now she was too disoriented to interpret them. All she knew was she was being dragged off again, this time in the direction of the jail cells.
 
The elder hunter stepped up to Synod. "You have no right to make demands of the Council,Synod. You aren't even one of us. Why do you care for our tribe?" Synod looked squarely in the hunter's eyes. "I couldn't care less about your tribe,as it's run by a council of cowards. I care for the Elven people as a whole." Synod turned around,and saw the Dryad from earlier being led away by a guardian. He sighed,and waved his staff in their direction. "Stop that!" "I'm outside your juristiction. You said so yourself." A stone dome erupted from the ground around the Dryad and her escort,entraping them. There were small holes throughout it,for breathing. "No matter what you do,I'm leaving this pit. Prefferably with her. If you won't rally the Elves,then we will." He approached the dome,leaving the Elders even more dumbstruck. "Very well...Shall we do as he says? Or should we continue as we are...?"


Synod slammed the end of his staff on the ground,and it became encased in stone. He struck the dome as if it were a bell,and he wielded the hammer. "This is Synod! Release the Dryad,or I'm coming in for her!" The thunderous racket he made with the striking of the dome was intended to both scare the guardian,and grab his attention. He tapped the ground with the end of his staff,and returned the stone to it's place below the ground.
 
Hearing these two saying that they wanted to be free made Masahiro proud. There IS hope after all.. Masahiro thought to himself as he bows to them. "I am very pleased that you two have decided to choose to be free. Being free will just be the first part of your destiny to take down that wretched King. And I would love the help." He told them as he smiled. "My name is Masahiro Shigeru." He said as he greeted them. After he finished, he listened to what Archon had told him as he pointed to his master's house. Masahiro then stared at the man's leg, and then back to the house. He then chuckled a bit. "You look perfectly fine actually." Masahiro told him. If what Archon was saying about his master breaking his leg was true, then it would be interesting to see how this man would do if they were to fight off against a group of Orcs. Archon sure does looks like if he could take a hit. But then Masahiro wondered what Tor could do. He wondered what skills she had in mind.


But hearing this about Archon's leg is just exactly what Masahiro had said earlier about all of the slave's masters. Only a few were probably as lucky as Archon, but many slaves would have probably been hospitalized or worse. But either way, he was glad that Archon and Tor wanted to help him. But before he could say anything at all, his messenger came running to them. "Master! I have brought more news!" The man yelled out as he stopped right in front of Masahiro and the other two. The messenger then stared at Archon and Tor, then back to Masahiro.


"Master.. It would be much better if you and I could speak privately.." The messenger suggested as he stares back to the other two. "Do not worry, brother. These two are friends. Now, what news do you bring me?" Masahiro asked. "I bring word from Bolton and Dante. They ask for you to come back to Bolton's house to speak about future plans." The messenger answered Masahiro. "But I thought I already told Bolton of my plans.. Did he tell Dante?" Masahiro asked, wondering what other information Bolton forgot to mention a while ago. Dante is another good friend, and him and Bolton are two of the people that Masahiro trusts the most. If Masahiro had to take off and leave the empire for a bit, he would always rely on Dante and Bolton to take charge while he's gone. The messenger just shrugged.


"Alright.. looks like I'm heading back to his place then. Thank you for the message." He told his messenger. Masahiro then turned to where Tor and Archon was at. "As for you two, feel free to come along with me. I'm sure all the questions that you two have in stored will be answered once we get to Bolton's house." He told them. "And I shall be on my way then, Master. Farewell!" The messenger yelled out as he rushed pass by Masahiro. "Farewell, brother!" He yelled back. Masahiro then turned around and starts to walk back to Bolton's house, expecting for Tor and Archon to follow if they wanted to.
 
IMPORTANT


#Dwarf Players


#Aerodom (Maybe?)


SKIM QUALITY


#Everyone else


A shout crossing the main room of the tavern and through the megaphones towards the halls "Anotha fine evenin' indeed!! Le'ss party!!" A hearty laugh bellowed through the caverns of Tegby's Tavern as Eurehl downed his unknown number round of Mead filled mugs.


Music bursting from every which way with machines sustaining the constant notes and musical dwarves playing the song itself. The reason for the party now lost to the masses engaged with it, cheer spreading through all. Business had been dealt with for the masses here and most knew that something important had happened, alas that was all to be worried about later. The beats picked up and grew heavier, with a sudden burst of sparks and machines rotating around them to direct the light.


Eurehl was now up dancing with his mug in hand as the music flowed in the background of his greatly intoxicated mind. The party was progressing quickly and seemed like it would never end, or at least until Eurelh's memory suddenly jumped forward a few hours and his mind now perfectly clear and a groan following the sudden clarity. "Not agin." a look of great disappointment crossing his facial features. Looking around he found he was home again with empty mead barrels surrounding him, and his bed undisturbed yet again.


Eurelh sighed loudly and stretched popping his bones back into place and undoing the knots in his muscles. "Well, off to meh Dorfen duties." He began making his way towards the enchantry chambers. All while singing a merry, out of tune, song along the way.
 
Once more the king sat in his throne, glistening from the sweat of his training routines. It had been but an hour, and his human wretch came scurrying back into the high hall.


"S-s-so, this is the last right? You said this was last my king..." the courier stammered, terrified of the great number of greenskins about him. The traitorous messenger had been bribed recently, in hopes that he may deliver members of the revolution unto him. Of course when it'd turned out this, shining example of humanity, knew the leader by name and face, he became quite an asset.


"Of course, good man," the king hesitated a little, searching for the best choice of words. This cur may come to be useful again some day...


"I never go back on my word."


A snap of the fingers and a servant brought forward a pouch containing far more money than she'd ever laid eyes upon, and likely ever would again.


"Th-thank you m-my king!" the little guttershite uttered in response before he exited the same way he entered, a figurative tail between his legs, and eyes locked on the floor.


It was truly amazing how much greed drove humans. It seemed they'd sell their own foot for the right price, and so this one just had...


Several orcish guards were arrayed about the place their mole had sent the leader to; merely in precautionary places, attempting to avoid detection. Inside, the two that had collaborated with the criminal had already been killed, left sitting at the common table near the far end of the entryway. Several of the men were literally itching for the opportunity that awaited them, the chance to be great heroes of their nation, shining examples of all that it was to be an orc.
 
Tor could not believe what she was hearing. This man Masahiro was asking them to come, expecting them to come with him to some place. It was a scary thought just leaving her home and going with him. She flinched and let out a wince as if she was already being punished. She could do it. She couldn't go and know that she was going to be punished for it later. But then a thought burst through her fear.


'He is offering to free you. No more working like this. No more beatings or scoldings or no food. No more sleeping with people you don't want to. He can help make you free.'


Tor dropped the shirt she had been gripping so tightly before. She could do this. He said he could help free her from the Orcs but if Tor did not do anything then his words were empty. She had to want to be free. She had to do something to help make his words real. She made her way from behind the fence and looking to Ash nodded. She was afraid still of course. The thought of her master knowing she left and went off scared her so much. But she wanted to do this.


----


Scyra saw a man rushing by and he let himself slip inside his mind. Once he had the thoughts in his own head he pulled away for a bit feeling guilty. Not many people could sense his ability to read their thoughts, mostly the outer most ones. Scyra knew the longer and deeper he went the more vulnerable he was and the more the person would be able to realize what was happening. Scyra had experienced that once and it was not something he wanted to relive. But he was barely there and it was so light a touch that the person would not realize it. He turned to where he was walking from though.


He had the urge toreach out and touch the minds of the group he saw. His abilities could be an addictive thing. To know people's thoughts, to know what was going on with them. The buzzing of their minds at work was always around him but some were more loud than others. Those were the minds he wanted to go to. They felt such intense emotions and Scyra wanted to know why whether it was good or bad. But the man had control over it and he did not such thing. He did something quite similar though, entering the man's mind in another way.


What is going on with those three you just came from? I know they are to see someone named Bolton. But why? He projected the words into the mind of him.
 
Pabla didn’t fight against the man, and she couldn’t exactly gain any traction in her mind to want to attack the guard. All it wanted to do was put her left foot in front of her right and vice versa to keep up with the rather tall and bulky fellow. A man who was rather plain faced and looked almost bored guiding her away from the Elder’s circle, where they apparently had sent her away. There was that man though. What was his name again? Had she even learned his name? She wasn’t quite sure if she did or not. He was waving his stick for some reason and she managed to twitch in the guard’s arms the same time he twitched outright.


It was then that she knew for sure this was some magical ability of his to null the mind into a stupor, and then she forgot all over again. Just like she had forgotten how to walk and stop of her own accord and it didn’t seem speech would come out of its own accord either. When attempting to yell at the druid that raised the rock wall around her and the guard, she stumbles over her letters. It sounded like a fool’s language and she gave a long blink as she and guard were encased in total darkness. The man cursed and she was happy her ears could at least process words right as the man outside the walls yelled at the council.


The redhead wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved, because at least someone was on her side or mad because he was looking down on the elders. The girl stuck to the feeling that her brain was made out of jelly and she fell over when the guard beside her had let go. It seemed he was examining the dome around them and cursing to himself; as if the elf outside knew that, he spoke. Apparently he wanted her…or someone, she was a Dryad right? On her second thought, she wondered what even a dryad was until it came to her, almost the same time that she felt stupid for even asking herself.


Now that her mind was alive with thoughts though, her motor sections were complete cut off except being able to breathe and blink. It seemed the man just liked messing with her head…


The man himself, a guard by the name of Tyus, was looking for a specific type of hole; earlier it was some kind of breathing apparatus but then he spotted the tiny holes in the rock wall. Now he was just looking for the opportune one, one which he could make eye contact with the person who had erected the wall. It was all he would need to start using his magic on the elf, but then the girl on the floor would be completely free. To his understanding all she could do was cast some eye games, which seemed as big of a threat as the man standing outside of a big barricade.


It wouldn’t matter to him if he came in anyways, he would then have eye contact and it would be 'so long' for the druid that was now causing his council of elders’ grief. The woman on the other hand, this had been her first offense and defiance against the grove’s chiefs and she would continue to simply live another day. Probably on house arrest, but that was Zendall’s problem and not Tyus’…


While the girl inside was writhing in her stupor, Tyus continued to search the walls and said nothing despite the elf’s threat. Halcyon stood from his position with the help of the tree behind him, and crossed his arms as he looked upon the scene. “That is enough!” he demanded of the group, projecting enough that the group inside had even heard him and a few bird took off from the trees. “You may take her with you to build your army, but you will take nobody else from this grove” he ordered around the druid. Synod was still a part of this grove for right now, and he hoped the man listened to his elder for once.


“You will both pack up your belongings and leave” he announces, “and you are never to return here in the future…” he finished.
 
Sia awoke, The taste of blood on her tongue.


She rolled over and stared at her image, reflected back by the skittering surface of a dappled puddle.


A stranger stared back, bloodshot eyes and constant shaking.


She laughed, a short bark of derision, before she remembered where she was.


Free, but in danger if she was caught.


The new image would help, she thought, and set about to get grimy.


The clothes Malver had given Sia were clearly his old cast-offs, which suited her fine.


Tearing her fine line dress she bound her chest- like a corset, but more so, and struggled into the trousers and tunic.


The dirt and grime that already caked her body helped, and when looked into the puddle again a new stranger stared back.


Not the helpless songbird, scared of freedom, but a cocky young lad, ready to start a fight.


Concealing The Masters blade beneath her cloak she stepped out into the market, ready to go down fighting.


Drak' Yhart would pay.
 
After their brief meeting, Captain Anoleius Trevelor headed out from the command center and made his way over to the communication's building. The center was abuzz with the constant beeps and whistles of the radio consoles all over the room that connected Fort Tun'gor to all of the disparate units in the region. This was the nerve center for all of western Orcish armies.


One of the operators, a young lieutenant to which Anolieus couldn't recall his name, turned and looked smugly at the him and remarked, "Hey Cap, you seem different today... did you get a haircut?"


Anolieus reached for his riding crop to discipline the insubordinate Orc, but froze just short of pulling it out. He didn't doubt that if he should beat this insolent whelp, the Commander Davalamin would probably return the favor just to rub it in Anolieus‘ face. And that was a beating that the captain didn’t want to see.


Ignored his comment then, Anolieus instead released his grip from the whip, then took in a deep breathe to calm his nerves. Afterwards, he conveyed the orders that he was given, "You are to direct all divisions to report back to Fort Tun'gor and await further orders."


The lieutenant nodded and leaned over and began to tap his finger on the small metal plate, transmitting his message. Captain Trevelor know that, after having received their directive, the divisions currently engaged within the forest would begin to pack up by night fall. By the next morning they would begin their withdrawal so that by that following evening, only the carnage they had inflicted to the landscape would remain.


As Anoleuis turned to walk to the door, another lieutenant stepped through the door to take up his station. Unlike the peasant that he had just given the orders to, this person was someone of noble origins who shared his views of Orc society and whom he knew would be just as upst at the change of command.


Returning his attention to the table where the commoner busily was sending out his dispatches, he reached down and took hold of a pencil and paper before jotting down a quick note. This message contained instructions for royal lieutenant to relay the plans of Commander Trevelor, as he knew it. Also in the message, he relayed the precise times in which to he would be in the communication center to receive future orders.


Having failed in his challenge to the new commander, he would remain dutiful to his previous orders to relay any relevant information he had on the commander's future plans.


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Two covered wagons approached the large gates that guarded the great dwarven capital of Khoradaldrum. It was the largest and most influential of all the dwarven city-keeps. Driving the small convoy was a sickly old dwarf, wearing a hood to hide his pustules. Next to him was a human dressed in the purple and red silk clothes, obviously denoting one of great wealth.


A pair of dwarven guards stood vigil at the large metal dwarves that led down into the city below. They were adorned in the finest metal armor and wielding great hammers that eclipsed the diminutive dwarves. One of them stepped towards the covered wagon and motioned them to stop.


The driver pulled back on the reigns and brought the wagons to a stop.


"What business, do you have in Khoradaldrum," bellowed the closest gatekeeper.


"I have come to your fine city to sell my wares," responded the human happily.


He reached back into the wagon and pulled out a samples of his offerings. First, he drew out a large snow covered pelt and commented, "This you see, my good dwarf, is a pelt from the elusive Snow Cats that inhabit the eastern mountains. A fine choice for a rug to be placed in front of a warm fire, sure to impress the ladies."


Glaring up at the human, the dwarf showed his lack of interest in the item. The human nodded and acknowledged the dwarf’s lack of interest, "Don't like that huh?"


The human nodded and set the fur behind him and reached further back and pulled out a glass jar that encased a thick, pink object in a yellow fluid. "What about this? The tongue of a Omalar Yak. Simply suck on the it twice a day, and it's sure make your beard twice as long in a matter of weeks! Also, it does wonders for the libido.”


Suddenly, the guards interest was piqued as he looked back and stroked his modest beard and at the prospect of bedding many beautiful women. However, the sentry that had stayed back wasn't as impressed. He stepped forward and barked at the human, "Get out of here pink skin, and peddle your goods somewhere else!"


"Alright, Alright, I can see you are a dwarf of exceptional taste,” the human responded and threw his hands up in a gesture to put him at ease. “If you agree to let me through; I will allow the two of you a small sample of some exceptional Nordic Mead that I brought to offer as a token of appreciation to share with your fine council."


The human turned and rested his hand on the shoulder of the dwarven driven, “Get these two gentlemen a couple of mugs of our fine brew."


Obediently, the dwarf hopped down and proceeded to the rear of the other wagon and reached into the back. Six barrels sat in the back of the preceding wagon, just as the human had said. He grabbed a pair of mugs, then moved over and stood in front of the taps at the front of one of the barrels. Just before he loosed them to pour the drinks, the dwarf reached in and made a simple rune on the inside each of the mugs.


After having filling the mugs to the brim, he rushed back to offer the dwarven guards the mead. Both self-respecting dwarves, they eagerly took the offer of free drinks and gulped them both down without so much as a second thought.


As soon as their lips touched the mugs, they felt a surge go straight to their heads, putting the two men at ease. It was as if all their worries simply fluttered away. They weren't at all suspicious of this; simply accrediting their euphoria the excellent alcohol.


The human waited for them to down the all of the drink before addressing them. "So my good fellows, may we enter your fair city?"


Looking back at one another, the two guards simply shrugged before nodding back to the human. They turned each grasped the one of the handles and pulled open the gargantuan doors.


As the caravan passed from earshot of the dwarven guards and entered the city, the human turned and nudged the side of the dwarf sitting next him. "See Argos, that wasn't so hard," Bohlgren chuckled in delight to how perfectly their plan had gone.


Argos turned and simply nodded in acknowledgement of the dwarfs point. But he reserved showing any outburst of glee until the totality of their purpose had been fulfilled. He did soften for just long enough to glance back at the dwarf. Having been a former nobleman, Bohlgren was forced to disguise his features. He had chosen to appear like a simple slave, grubby looking and his face covered with sickening and oozing boils and mused, “You know after this, I think you should keep that look… it’s an improvement.”


 
Allen, after a moment, smirked slightly, looking at Tor. Freedom. He knew it wouldn't be that easy, as simple, as just walking away but he'd make it and so would she. He gave her an actual reasuring smile, something he'd longed to do for so long. He let her put her arm through his, still with a half smirk, started walking after Masahiro.
 
She'll never be allowed to return? "I'll never return. That much I know. But her bond is in this grove. She will be allowed to return. No compromise." With that,he sank the dome back under the ground,and steppoed towards the Dryad. Synod offered the top of his staff to help the Dryad up,and said, "A chance to finally do something. Come,we must rally the Elves to strike back against the Greenskins." The area was utterly silent; no animals,no wind,and the onlookers held their breath. Synod's outburst was the cause. He didn't care. He needed allies to help him fight the Orcs. For the sake of all Elves.
 
Deep in the forests between the Elvish and (Formerly) human territories, a man sprinted through the forrest, his armoured feet pounding on the ground and his breath was heavy and panting, the air was cold and crisp, he could see his breath as he went on, passing by the trees like a blur.


behind him, far behind, a dozen other footsteps could be heard, but they were heavier, their silhouettes could be seen, tall hats, long overcoats, they wore tough leather boots, and every now and then a flash came from one of them and a trail of smoke, whenever this happened, a branch of piece of tree near the running man would explode.


in the distance, deep voices could he heard shouting


"Come on! this way!"


one of the pursuers took the lead, leaving the group behind


"Get back here! its too dangerous to go alone! use your head!"


"nonsense!" shouted the one taking the lead "its only a human!"


the man running away jumped off a steep drop, when he landed he turned on his left heel, with a long staff strapped to his back, he held his hands about a foot appart, and soon a glowing ball of fire appeared between his hands, looking up at the top of the steep drop, he waited, and his waiting paid off, the one who was overconfident before came jumping over, seeing the man waiting for him, the man let loose his fireball, causing the hunter to explode, the other hunters stopped in their tracks.


"Crap, you six, flank to the left! we'll go to the right"


Panting from exertion from his one-hit-kill spell, then man looked to the side, then the other, seeing the figures of the orc hunters surrounding him, their weapons cocked.


thinking fast the man ducked down and planted his hand on the ground, sending the soil of the while area, the surface soil of course, flying up, blinding the hunters, when the dirt settled, the man was gone.


"Crap! where'd he go!? that damn dirt trick covered his tracks!"


"spread out and start looking!"


actually,the man had backtracked about 40 metres and was hiding behind a massive tree with a bullethole in it.


"-pant, pant, pant- too... close"


looking around from the tree trunk, the man saw 2 Orc hunters, these guys were too smart to spread out on their own, they knew to stay in pairs.


"... this'll take awhile..."


he reached down, pulling a small knife from his shoe.


"lets do this..."
 
Bohlgren and Argos bounced up and down on the uneven and rocky pathway as they rode into the market district. They took in their surroundings and spotted an good place with which to set up Argos’ “shop”. While in the conception phase of this operation, it was determined that it would be best to keep up with the ruse of being a simple trader after they had passed through the gate. There was the possibility that someone, perhaps even one of the guards, would come by at some point and actually want some of the goods.





The two compatriots hopped off from the carriage and moved to the rear of it to meet up with the preceding carriage. Argos looked around the area before reaching up and patting on the bench where the two occupants of that wagon were sitting. The human duo appeared to be simple slaves; dressed only in rags with a string tied around their waist. In reality, they were part of Argos’ Rangers had accompanied him to assist in the operation when the time came.





Argos stayed with them and helped to unload the cargo from the carriages as well as put up the stand in a intersection that seemed to get a lot of walking traffic. As the humans worked, Bohlgren went off to meet up with some old contacts from his days on the council to get the ball moving on their plans. There wasn’t much time before Davalamin would be on the move…





Across the continent, a hooded man in average clothes stood on a street corner, scanning the mob of people as they pass by. He glanced down at a photo of his target, committing his face to memory. The man had been waiting throughout the day, ever since his contact had informed him of the impending ambush. It was his duty to support the rebellion in any way possible, and should it’s leader die before the movement had taken it’s first steps, than he would of failed in his mission.


He didn’t have to wait much longer, as he noticed Masahiro coming down the street. Stepping out into the crowd, he turned and walked just off to the right of the man. Skillfully, he blended into the crowd seamlessly. A few moments later, he brushed against the shoulder of Masahiro. Feigning anger, he barked out at Masahiro, “Hey! Out of my way filthy peasant!”


While shoving the man back in protest, he secretly deposited a note into one of the man’s pockets. He then casually turned and walked away from Masahiro and proceeded on his way.


On the note that was dropped into his coat read:


The meeting that you are going to is an ambush. Will contact you later. So you know it is me, I will ask you, “Beautiful weather we are having today, but I prefer the weather in Oria.” So I know that it indeed you and not an illusion, “It is beautiful out, but I much prefer the weather in…“ followed by your hometown. We will meet again soon.


A Friend.


 
Halcyon shifted his weight, almost as if he was considering the druid’s words but said nothing in response to his ploy. Those around him seemed to wait on bated breaths for his answer, but the dome was being lowered already. It seemed there was no room for argument; the village was to accept the dryad once again. The man could easily let her back into the village, but it didn’t mean that the people would accept her once again. There was nothing he could do about it, so unable to completely accept or deny the offer, he stayed silent. One glance at Pabla sparked amusement in his eyes, while he might not have anything to say…


The first thing she had managed to move was her fingers, and then just like that the whole of her arm came alive. Tyus relaxed when the dome started descending and the redhead was able to sit up, trying to move as much as she could. It was as if she was moving through gelatin, the nerve endings not exactly connecting with each other right away. The girl wasn’t bothered by that, but rather she was bothered by the conversation that happened between Synod and Halcyon.


Her elders had asked her to leave the grove for following her own views, and it stung worse than them simply ignoring the same views. Yet when Synod fought for her, the girl still felt annoyance at his defiance of the elders. Her mind was in true disarray, but at the moment all she felt like doing was punching something. So she did. The elven man who had offered her a helping ‘hand’ up probably wasn’t expecting it; as she pulled herself up with the help of his staff, she also used the tug as momentum to take a step forward and swing at his face.


Pabla didn’t even care if she didn’t hit him, she just felt frustrated, and her face showed the fact she was upset. Her eyes never left the man in front of her, keeping a firm hold of the staff in his hand; “You do-You just ca-” words weren’t coming to her. She wasn’t sure if she truly wanted to defend the council, this was her home…but if she left without the elders blessings nobody would accept her.


“If they want me out of their village then I will leave” she accepts the elders offer, but it feels wrong, she gives the stranger a reproachful look. “They will know how wrong they were when we accomplish our goal” is her final decision, seeming to finally stand up to the elders. She understood what it meant now, to be under a group that gave her such scrutiny, and she truly felt she didn’t need to return here.


It wasn’t like she exactly trusted the man in front of her either, finally releasing the staff from her grip. He was a stranger, and it didn’t seem like he actually lived in the grove they were currently occupants of, she examined him once again.


“I will grab what I need and meet you by the swamp” she noted, trying to search her mind for something distinguishable. “The one by the shoreline” she finally clarifies, only designating a meeting place because she wasn’t exactly sure if she wanted to follow him yet. She understood that they needed more than one person to take down an army but at the same time, she was unable to accept any partners.


With a nod to herself, she continued into the village and towards her home.
 
Synod pulled on his staff as the Dryad pulled herself up,but didn't expect anything,other than her leaving to gather her things,let alone a punch to the face. Off balance,he was knocked over by the punch,and the impact knocked off his headdress,revealing short brown hair,and brown eyes. "Well,then...I'll meet you there." Synod pushed himself up on his staff,and used his wind magicks to bring his headdress back to himself,and put it back on. He left the enclosure without another word,and headed straight to the meeting point. It was an uneventful trip,with nothing much happening.
 
Masahiro continued to walk down the road, with Tor and Archon following right behind him. They were starting to pass by a large crowd of people who were heading off to where ever they needed to go to. And as they walked, Masahiro was thinking about this meeting. Knowing Bolton, he would have already told Dante about Masahiro's plans. Unless they had something else in mind. But he just scratched the back of his head for a bit, realizing that Dante had finally came back from traveling around the empire. Dante would have probably wanted to hear this plan from Masahiro himself, not from Bolton.


Then Masahiro looked back at Tor and Archon, wondering if Bolton and Dante would be okay if these two could join the meeting. It's not like they needed to hide something from their fellow rebels, anyways. But he just turned back, staring straight ahead as they continued to move right through the crowd.


Busy day today... Masahiro thought to himself as he kept moving through the crowd, feeling everyone else bumping into him. And as they were ready to leave from the large crowd, Masahiro accidentally shoved pass by a man's shoulder. And as this happened, the man quickly yelled out 'Hey! Out of my way filthy peasant!' And as soon as Masahiro had heard this, he just turned around to get a better view at the man. And before he was able to yell back to that guy, he was nowhere to be seen. He probably disappeared into the large crowd. But Masahiro just shook his head, not wanting to bother looking for that man. He then waited for Tor and Archon as they finally moved away from the large crowd. And with this, they began to walk down the same path again. And while they were walking, Masahiro stuck his hands into his coat's pocket, but quickly swiped them out from there. He felt something inside his pocket, perhaps it was a piece of paper?


Masahiro stopped for a moment, and decided to see what it was. He moved his hand around inside one of his pockets, and moments later he had found a sheet of paper that was written on. He took the paper from out of his pocket, and just stared at it for a bit. A note..? Masahiro thought to himself as he started to read through the note. He was then shocked, as he reread the word 'Ambush' "An ambush? But how..?" Masahiro quietly said to himself, as he turned back to Tor and Archon. "We have to turn back, now." Masahiro told them, staring back down to the note.


A friend? Who was this man? Well, looks like Masahiro will find out soon.. Although if what the note had said about the ambush was true, then he was glad that he had found this note hiding around inside his coat's pocket. But this also made him look back to the direction from where the large crowd was disappearing off to, wondering who this man he had accidentally shoved was..
 
The plains sucked. That was the first thought EdgeWalker had when seeing the clan’s so called new home . . . well what was left of them at least. Most of them ran the ones without an attachment of sorts. Even she had followed the lead feeling shameful for doing so once seeing the open land in which they were suppose to now claim. There was nowhere to hide, not much to use when it came to her tricks or pranks, and in truth . . . she felt like she belong there even less than she did with the elves in their village. She couldn’t stay here, therefore she didn’t. It might have been heartbreak to most to see her leave them . . . if most didn’t see it as a blessing in disguise. In truth they were all a kind people, but Edge seemed to joke too much, and waste everyone’s time with her childish games. It wasn’t that they didn’t love her as one of their own . . . they just didn’t love who she was at times.





She knew most other clans she found wouldn’t accept her ways, or understand why she felt she had to do such weird things. Sides if she was to join a new clan or tribe . . . she couldn’t help feel like it was a betrayal to the one who had watched over her since they took her in. Instead she probably decided to do the most foolish thing anyone could do.


Finding a nice long cape with hood, she would head back to what she considered the borderlands now. The land right before the clear land from the orcs, here she would do all she could think of to cause a minor revenge. Set up traps. Armed only with a dagger, bow and a quill full of arrows she would start to set up holes, vine triggered traps, and other minor things that would at least slow down the Orcs a little. It wasn’t much, but it really was all she could think to do. In her eyes there was no thought that any would be brave enough to rebel, and if there was, there wouldn’t be any who would probably know how too. So for now, she would do the best she could do as safely as she could do it. Perhaps at least divert them or slow them down a bit more.


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


Ruby found her way to one of the deeper Dwarven taverns, her face and body smudged with dirt darker than her own brown hair. There was a missing gleam in those green eyes of hers, the eyes that usually shined with at least some minor conquest. Setting down her shovel, pickaxe, and a bag of what looked like rolled up sticks of gunpowder; she didn’t even have the heart to look around. She had spent most the day trying to re-find what the Orcs had lost her while sealing some of the caves. Ordering a Tanker she would take a great few swigs almost downing it all there at once.


“Does anyone even seem to care that, although, we might not MIND living in this lovely world, away from whatever frightening stuff the outside might hold . . . that perhaps, the fact the outsiders DID destroyed some of our paths out there, should be taken as a sign of war?” Sure she said it, sure she was merely blabbing away her frustration due to her lost, but honestly she couldn’t be the only one thinking it. Or was she?


In truth she didn’t really expect many to be listening; she wasn’t one of the higher talented Dwarfs after all. Was never that social so didn’t really pick up on many friends, a few acquaintances sure, but not really friends. If anything she was known to be a shrew of sorts, and a cheap one at times, at that. The fact she was actually talking out loud in the tavern was enough to state something might be wrong.
 
The sun was just breaking over the mountains in the distance, causing Davalamin to raise up his arm to shield his eyes from the blazing light. He reached up and tipped forward his large brimmed hat to cover his eyes before turning back to look at his men. The large force that was now on the march, comprised of the 1st, 7th, and a little under half of the 12th division.


Davalamin had been forced to push his army to march throughout the night that he regretted to do. The men understood the reason and didn’t besmirch him for the decision. Partly this was due to the fact that Davalamin had been up for nearly two days straight anyways. But also, they the importance of providing minimal time for the dwarves to prepared themselves and their defenses for their arrival. By high noon, the army would be at the gates of the dwarven capital.


Captain Trevelor had elected to stay back at the fort, and Davalamin wasn’t going to argue with the orc over it. Davalamin figured that Trevelor would probably faint at the sign of a rare steak. Thus, he was happy to have the noble captain remain at the fort with the rest of the 12th division; a large enough force to maintain security in the already cleared elven areas, but also not strong sufficient to push any further into the forests.


While Davalamin had done his best to maintain security while on the march, he couldn’t and didn’t expect he could keep the movement of such a large force secret. In truth, the rugged half-orc preferred for some knowledge to leak through; it would help to motivate the dwarven councilors into action. This was exactly what he wanted them to do.


“That will be 10 shishkaras,” Argos told the dwarven noble as he was examining his chosen product. With a grunt of satisfaction, the dwarf reached into his pocket and dropped out the gold coins into the man’s hand before walking off.


As Argos was carefully counting the proceed and taking in the day’s earnings, he noticed a familiar sickly fellow approach his stand. “Oh! A man in need of some remedies I see. Will you be having the Oroko Root or my own some Argosian Brandy?”





The hooded dwarf motioned over to the strange brew, and Argos nodded in agreement. Bohlgren and Argos had arranged for this secret code before they had arrived, to allow for minimal secret interactions. Had he of picked the root, than it would of meant that the meeting with the councilmen didn’t go well. However, if he picked the brandy, than that meant that he had secured some of their support for his plan. The question now was how many…


“And how many will you be having today, my good fellow?”





“Six,” the dwarf answered with a smile.





So, the crazy coot actually managed to pull it of, Argos thought to himself. By having six of the council on their side, that would mean that, not only did they control the vote, but also a little over half of the army. This was much better news than Argos had dared to of hope. Bohlgren had tried to assure his human compatriot, that the greed of his brethren knew no bounds and they would offer their souls for a mountain of gold. And it appears, that he was right.





Davalamin would be most pleased with the results. Pleased enough, perhaps, to allow his family freedom and the life that was promised to them so long ago.





Argos glanced down and took out a small pocket watch and flipped it open to steal a look at the contents inside. Opposite of the time piece, was attached a small picture of a happy family living on a simply prairie stead. One day, this family had been shattered when he came home and found them gone and their property destroyed. He was given a simple proposition by the Orcs that were there; work for Davalamin or his family would die.





Closing up the simple time piece, he returned his attention back to the dwarf and continued, “Alright then sir, that will be 20 shishkaras.”





A loud grumble of disapproval at the steep price rose from the dwarf’s chest. Argos reached down under the counter and brought up a small bag of rocks before placing it on the wooden surface. “Alright, for you my good man and for today only, I will also include these magnificent Kolo stones. When added to your bath, it promises to clean underneath the skin to get rid of those pesky sores I see.”





Hesitantly, the dwarf nodded his consent and tossed the small bag of money into a jar and quickly took the stones. Being a self-respecting dwarf who couldn’t stand to lose any money, he leaned in and whispered, “I’ll be expecting those back when we’re done!”





The angry dwarf turned and scowled, before proceeding with his part of the plan, as Argos simply teased back to him, “I’m sorry sir, but all sales are final!”





Bohlgren turned and shot an angry look back at him, and the human couldn’t help but laugh before turning back to his “slaves” and motioning them off to initiate their part of the operation.





Rumors had already began to swarm the ancient dwarven halls that the large orc army on the move. There was no direct evidence of the large army’s intent. The fact that such a massive force had been assembled, implied that they meant to hit a target of great significance. Some had already began to presume that the target would be the dwarven capital and were evacuating ahead of the onslaught. Most however, still over-confident that their defenses could hold back any force, were unwilling to commit to any action as of yet.





Thus the scene was set. The councilors began to file into the chambers, just as they had done time and time again. A day that began like any other, but would end like no other. As the Orcs began their final preparations for the conquest of the dwarves.


 
Back in the forest, a thick fog had descended on the area, 2 orcish hunters proceedd with caution


"M-maybe we scared him off?" said a younger hunter, hoping the older, more experienced hunter would agree with him


"Scared him off? nay lad, if this were a mere escaped slave then i'd have stated that an hour ago... no, this is but a game of cat and mouse... hunted and hunter, but whom is hunting whom?"


"wha? we're Orcs! the most supreme species in the world! we're obviously the hunters!"


"Humans are less advanced than us, but they can be crafty, swift and cunning and their size can easily be an advantage in a game like this..."


"how so?"


"well..."


they were cut off by 4 sounds in the distance, an echo of an explosion, an echo of a gunshot, a scream and a crackle of what sounded like lightning


"come on lad!"


the orc hunters from all directions descended on the location, they saw one hunter had been exploded, the other one was cooled from the inside out, probably had a staff hilt of a hand shoved down his throat then had lighting cast inside him...


"alright, do you fools need any more examples of what a mage as prey can do!? or are you still full of bravado!?" roared the large, older hunter, the other hunters shook their heads, they knew this was the real deal, but... they were decieved.


from the ground, the human burst out, covered in leaves as camoflague


"shoot!" yelled the leager, but the experienced old one discarded his rifle and pistol immediately as Darren's flames were released, igniting the gunpowder in their guns, pockets and thier sacks of gunpowder on their hips, causing explosions on top of their burns, in a flury of explosions and flames, the orcs fell down dead... leaving only the old experienced hunter with his dagger drawn.


"well then human... just you and me..."


"yeah..."


the old orc charged and Darren charged lightning to his hand, in a flash there was a slice and a loud crackle, and they were on opposite sides, facing away form eachother, each with their weapon-hands outstretched... blood on the orc's blade and on Darren;s hand, a wound on each of their sides...


there was a brief crackle of electricity escaping the orc's eye, and he fell down, dead, the wound on Darren;s side was shallow, while Darren;s lightning hand attack send lighting flashing around inside the orc's body, looking for a way out and tearing him appart from the inside.


Darren fell to his knees, exhausted, using magic will do that to ya


"heh... 12 hunters, a new record..."


Darren collapsed on his back, trying to catch his breath among the burned bodies and embers on and around the bodies of his enemies.
 
Masahiro's voice said it all and Ash gently turned Tor back toward the throng of people. He hated crowds, but the way Masahiro spoke told him everything he needed to know. Danger, ambush, perhaps even death in the long run. Archon had no intention of going into either. "Hiro," Ash said, shortening the name lest there be listening ears, "I know this city well, lived in it as a slave most of my life, I can get s to the tavern without going through the crowd. It's safer, and faster, but the choice is yours."
 
Scyra sensed an immediate sharp noise in someone's mind and he reached out into Masahiro's head.





'Ambush? What is going on? Something is not right here.'


Scyra turned and sent a quick message to the person he was talking to before that he was just hearing things. He looked confused but Scyra ignored it. He had to find out what was going on. It seemed that some of the humans here were not behaving. He recalled his own escape, but that was in the dead of night not in the middle of the day on the streets teeming with people.


Tor was moved by Ash and she nodded at his words. But suddenly she felt something grab her wrist and start to pull her. She struggled against him fearing it was an Orc or her master but when she looked she saw to her surprise that it was the man she saw either. Scyra did not even look back at her and he almost got to the bar when she felt a sudden burning sensation.


"Ow!"


Scyra dropped his hand from her wrist and looked at her. Tor looked positively frightened but a look of defiance was there too as if she would not be dragged willingly anywhere even by another human.


"I am not going to hurt you," Scyra told her but Tor shook her head. "I just want to know what is going on. Now you are going to get inside and talk to me or I can report you to an Orc...Niinji."


It was the first name that came to him from her mind but Tor did not know of his abilities. She looked around as if expecting something to jump out at her at any moment. Already alert Scyra grabbed her arm again and dragged her inside. He moved through the bar ignoring his workers comments about him 'picking a cute one' and made it to his room. Tor looked around the small space as Scyra locked the door and turned to her.


"Now start from the beginning."
 



Edge was relaxing on a tree branch well hidden, after setting up a few pit falls even deeper in the forest. The echo of a noise even she wasn’t sure of hearing before had her fall out of the tree in surprise. With a yelp she hit the ground of the earth, fear gripping her slightly. What other powers did these Orcs have, the ones who came upon her village were loud surely, but that was different. The fact it was followed by the noise of the magic sticks the orc’s carried didn’t help with her curiosity.





Hesitating she glanced around her current area of thick trees . . . sure she had set up minor annoyances. In truth though she wasn’t even sure they would head her way, and if they did how long till they did. It suddenly brought a slight feeling of hurt and shame to this elf. An acknowledgement that although she had pride herself to try to take on the Orc armies alone in way . . . she was in fact playing it safe still.





Slowly her eyes narrowed and a resolve entered them, if she was going to decide either to fight or hide now was the chance. Hiding what little she had for supplies outside of battle she would head once more up the tree. Pulling her green cloak tight and the hooded part up over her head, she went towards what she knew only head danger, using the treetops as cover when she could.





The direction noise had come from, now seemed to have other weird sounds as well, crackles, things that you would only think came from nature. Surely this wasn’t the Orcs right? Nature would never grant those beasts its mercy after what they had done to parts of the forest.





Although she moved quickly towards what she could only assume to be her doom, she would only make it there in time to see the finale. There was someone, almost elf looking in some manners, and an Orc, both dropping after a strike. Only for the Orc to spark up before he did and die in a twitch of sorts as the lightning danced about inside its body, her eyes widen and she couldn’t help but glance away from the site.





Her ears twitched some, as she heard something from the other. With the site of the massacre, she had expected him to be dead like the rest. Studying the battlefield from her minor spot among the trees she wasn’t sure if she should approach or not. It was obvious that the spirits had taken kindly to this man, if they were to strike down the Orcs for him, protecting him. Then again, it wasn’t the more kind of the spirits if it was done so with fire and attacks that usually came from the sky.





Taken a deep breath EdgeWalker nodded as if to try to tell her this was her sign from the spirits. The place she was meant to find, in which would lead her to her next path when it came to the Orcs. Glancing around to make sure it was still safe or at least safe as far as she could see, she stepped out of what little woods were left in the area. Her eyes scanning the bodies as she got closer, she couldn’t help feel sick. The spirits were sure vengeful with these; it gave it a slight hope at least. Stopping a few feet from the one that wasn’t the same color as the rest she would take out her bow. This was not to drawl it on him, instead to be able to stay her distance and try to use it like a stick to poke him if she could.





“Spirit blessed,” Edge could think of nothing more to call the man at that time. “I wouldn’t lay here if I was you. If I could hear and follow the noise of nature fighting, I’m sure those closer could as well.” Her eyes left the site of him with that, instead scanning the area. Sure he could be dangerous, but anyone who nature helped had to be good.





“Do you have the strength to at least enter into the trees a bit deeper, or even up one?” High vantage points were a favorite thing of Edge. It allowed you to know who was coming most the time and hid you well. The more she stood among the thick of the bodies, and the lands the Orc stole, or were about to steal, the more nervous she seemed to grow.


 
The final act for the Dwarven Nations began, as Bohlgren hobbled into the large courtyard that stood vigil between the large gates he had come through a few days earlier, and the rest of the large dwarven city. This was where the dwarves would rally to stop the oncoming Orcish hordes, as it was the perfect place to bottleneck the incoming troops. Because this was the ideal chokepoint, Davalamin planned to use this to his advantage.


Still in his sickly disguise, Bohlgren maneuvered around and throughout the courtyard area. Every several steps, he bent over to deposit a small stone on the ground that was no bigger than his hand. Rocks were a common enough in the mountain hideaways, and thus wouldn’t be examined too closely by a passerby. Should anyone inquire as to just what he was doing, simply would look up at them and snort and act as crazy as possible. It was in his experience, that people tended to shy away from the mentally unstable.


Meanwhile, the two rangers that were posing as slaves drove the carriage containing the Nordic mead up to the entrance of the Great Hall. After providing a few samples to the guards up front, the two men carried the barrels in pairs into the chamber where the councilmen were meeting. They were met with great glee and began to drank from the barrels almost as soon as they had entered the door. One of the councilmen were so eager, that they didn’t even care to wait for the mugs. Instead, he lifted the tap and simply drank unto he could hold no more.


The rest of the council though chose to wait as the two men brought in the rest of the barrels and the mugs to drink from. They filled up the mugs themselves and brought them over to the table where the council was just settling in to discuss the day’s agenda. Up for discussion at the moment was to whom would control a new, and lucrative gold mine that rested on the border of the estates of two of the councilmen





As they intently listened, one of the rangers couldn’t help but turn his gaze towards one of the windows to look outside.


For his part, Argos had calmly went about the business of maintaining his small little shop. No one would suspect that in a short time, chaos would reign over this area. As business began to slow, he put up a small sign that read, be back in a little while.





He then went off to the point that the three of them agreed was the center of the of the city, and placed down a small disk on the ground and then walked away from it. The small piece of glass was covered in elaborate runes that Bohlgren had placed on it before arriving. After deciding on a place for the jewel, he headed off towards the courtyard area to meet up with Bohlgren.





A few minutes later, a beam of light shot up from the disk and a giant figure appeared to all the inhabitants of the dwarven capital. It was of the appearance of Davalamin, the message had been recorded before Argos and the small party had set out on their mission. The imposing half orc, adorned in his jet black armor, spoke out in a voice that boomed off of the rocky halls.


“Citizens of Khoradaldrum! I claim this city, and all of dwarven territory for the Orcs! You all have three options: Leave, Surrender, or Die. I will give you one hour, to decide your fate.” The massive imposing image than burst into a harmless shower of sparks that rained over the inhabitants below.


Outside of the city, an immense black cloud formed over the horizon in front of the gates to the dwarven city. It took the guards a moment to realize, that it was no morning fog… but Orc Army! Quickly, the two sentries rushed to scurry inside. Just before they could make it inside, one of the sentries head exploded in a mist of red. In horror, the other guard made it inside and grasped a hold of the door handles and began to pull them shut.


Off in the distance, Davalamin reached up and pulled back on the bolt assembly and reloaded his rifle and smiled at his example of superb marksmanship. Looking back over his shoulder at the massive army arrayed behind him, he turned to them before crying out, “Take heart Orcs, for tonight, we drink the finest dwarven ale!” A loud cry sprang up from the thousands of Orcs, that echoed inside the great halls and put terror into every dwarf’s heart, just as the doors slammed shut.





 
When the girl made it to her house, Pabla only grabbed the necessities within its walls; the throwing axe she used to attack, and a few of the rare items within her potions. After a glance through her cabinet the redhead took one of the golden flasks and ripped at some of her bark with a hiss. The newer bark only made it hurt like a cut; the girl then slid the flask in the new crevice. After walking around the small abode one last time, nothing else caught her interest which meant she would leave it there.


Leave it, along with the rest of her life in the grove; the material items, those every day, and her place within the village. It was when she was finally past the Banyan tree that it finally sunk in, and she had to rub free a piece of dirt caught in her eye. Lightly smacking her cheeks, she took a deep breath of that around her before righting her thoughts.


There was a strange man waiting for her down by the swamps, but she still dwelled over the fact if she truly needed the help. The orcs had an army, but the girl wasn’t exactly one to ask for help at the moment; the few people she had trusted had just turned on her. When she repeated the memento in her head there was no following of how they were doing it for the better,though, as per usual.


Pabla took a few steps in the direction of the swamp before shaking her head, if she went the long way, she could check the encampments again. Maybe along the way making a true decision. All she had planned at the moment was to meet with the stranger who she had punched; a weird fellow really, he had no inclination whatsoever to listen to the elders. The man was a people person and she didn’t understand how one could like and understand people so well.


When she arrived at the outskirts for the orc encampment, she was surprised with what she saw. Enough so that she manoeuvred slightly around the surrounding forest, even escaping the safety of the foliage into a cleared part. The girl had never risked counting the individuals that took over Synod’s old village, but it was clear there was a decrease in those that lived there. No more thundering maul of orcs or the many plates of armor shifting about the village, there were about as few people as the night watch. Pabla wished she could advance to do a better survey, but that would probably only result in her death; there were probably a lot of them in the alley ways and houses. After convincing herself of it, she remembered what was directly east of here...


The swamp.


The girl immediately took off, racing towards the area that lay close to the coast line, and spotted the man she was looking for. She slowed down upon seeing him, it hadn't looked like he moved; this made her quirk a brow and she gestured behind her. “Do something back there?” she noted, narrowing her eyes slightly as she couldn’t fully trust the man yet. “What are you anyways?” she asked, “Your name, I mean” she explained herself upon thinking she seemed a little lost. Pabla had caught the man’s brown hair when she knocked off his mantel piece, but it still struck no remembrance inside her; she doubted very much he knew her own name.
 
"Tor!" Devil be d*****.... Archon shook his head, but forced himself to stay calm. Rash thoughts led to rash actions and rash actions led to death in this city. He freed his Stele from the strap on his forearm, kneeling lightly next to the building while sparing Masahiro a glance to wait. With this rune, ancient blood flow, protect my Tor, let in my mind glow. Shield her thoughts from those who pry, give her strength beyond her time. The rune, for all it's simplicity, was one of the more powerful that Ash had cast. And drained him severely, but he stood, hand braced against the wall.


"Come, Hiro, I know where they are." He muttered. Still keeping near the wall, he started off to the very tavern that had been his destination to begin with. He slipped his Stele away again, hidden in its place against his forearm under his sleeve. One day, maybe, he would know longer hide it, but as the rune on his ankle faded, he knew it would never be so. He would keep it hidden, because the less people knew about him, the better.
 
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