Debonaire
Born of the ashes
The outside world, free from stone walls and the scornful eyes of strangers. The outside world, beautiful and open. To stand in a field with all paths open, it was a strange and welcome change to someone who had never before known such freedom. The darkening sky beckoned the twilight and whole fields of green were painted orange. The wind was silent that evening, only alerting them of it's presence with the gentle rustling of leaves. The song of the wind. Crackling wood filled the void left as the conversation died down, it was not an unpleasant silence, but a welcome and soothing one. The sort of silence one would expect after a long days travel, the short hour before being lulled into the nurturing arms of sleep.
"What was that?" Cailan asked, seeming alarmed. Meanwhile the youngest of the three - Keln, dashed head-first into danger, disappearing into the trees in search of the source of what he assumed was a woman in danger.
The distance between the trees grew denser the further he moved into the forest. Soon enough, the little light still provided by the sun was almost entire blocked out by the dense foliage and thick roots protruding from the ground made running impossible. Keln's stubborn approach did not not relent, not until he found what he had been searching for.
The woman in question had gotten her ankle lodged beneath an ankle-twister of a root, meanwhile two intimidating men were poised to exploit her vulnerability. The sound following the rapidly nearing footsteps of Keln temporarily shifted their attention from the girl and onto the intruder.
The scene painted a clear enough picture for the young man to draw the weapon at his side, a long blade in pristine condition, as if it had been recently polished. He held the longsword with two hands and pointed the sharp tip toward the two. Apart from the sword, the young man was hardly a knight in appearance. He wore fine clothing, more suited for a rich squire than a knight, though from the days on the road they had earned themselves a fair amount of wear, as well as gathered a coating of dirt. He had the delicate features of a youth, his face angular and without the slightest hint of a beard. This, coupled with his intense, obnoxiously arrogant gaze, was what drove the men to laugh, then attack.
They charged recklessly, with arrogance, but as one. Deflecting one proved simple enough with a careful, calculated side-step, he kept his blade engaged with one of the men while circling him, always threatening him with the point of his tapered longsword. The two proved more challenging than he had anticipated, for when they attacked, they attacked simultaneously. He managed to fend off one, the other managing to break through with his far shorter blade making contact with Keln's face, forcing the young man to draw back.
As if suddenly struck by bloodlust, the second man forced himself forward, following the lead of his comrade. Even with his cheek bleeding, Keln hadn't disengaged his blade, so when the man moved forward, he lunged with a perfectly-timed thrust, catching the man's torso, the sharp point piercing through fabric and flesh alike. He fell limply to the ground.
Keln was exhausted, panting and bleeding. His right cheek was entirely red by now, and the fabric of his jacket was beginning to collect the drops that fell. Still, he held his sword firmly in both hands and, just as before, held out the tip toward his opponent. The man, once smiling with confidence, now stared blankly at the boy that was likely half his age, then his comrade lying face-down on the ground. He was ready to flee, and when the brushes rustled behind Keln, he did.
"Are you unhurt, m'lady?" Keln asked, sheathing his blade. Meanwhile two others arrived from the same direction Keln had. A half-elf as well as another human.
Trinket
The outside world, dangerous and unforgiving. Sometimes, isolation and ignorance were preferable to the things that lurked outside of settlements. Disappearances were common, even expected. When entire platoons of armed retinues went missing, even entire villages, those were the times people became rightfully afraid.
Three travelers were in the process of settling in after a long day on the road. They were all weary, for the road that day had been unforgiving. There wasn't much chatter, merely the song of the wind to keep the men's minds occupied while they worked. Nothing to muffle the sounds of a scream that roused the men from their weary trances.
"What was that?" Cailan asked, seeming alarmed. Meanwhile the youngest of the three - Keln, dashed head-first into danger, disappearing into the trees in search of the source of what he assumed was a woman in danger.
The distance between the trees grew denser the further he moved into the forest. Soon enough, the little light still provided by the sun was almost entire blocked out by the dense foliage and thick roots protruding from the ground made running impossible. Keln's stubborn approach did not not relent, not until he found what he had been searching for.
The woman in question had gotten her ankle lodged beneath an ankle-twister of a root, meanwhile two intimidating men were poised to exploit her vulnerability. The sound following the rapidly nearing footsteps of Keln temporarily shifted their attention from the girl and onto the intruder.
The scene painted a clear enough picture for the young man to draw the weapon at his side, a long blade in pristine condition, as if it had been recently polished. He held the longsword with two hands and pointed the sharp tip toward the two. Apart from the sword, the young man was hardly a knight in appearance. He wore fine clothing, more suited for a rich squire than a knight, though from the days on the road they had earned themselves a fair amount of wear, as well as gathered a coating of dirt. He had the delicate features of a youth, his face angular and without the slightest hint of a beard. This, coupled with his intense, obnoxiously arrogant gaze, was what drove the men to laugh, then attack.
They charged recklessly, with arrogance, but as one. Deflecting one proved simple enough with a careful, calculated side-step, he kept his blade engaged with one of the men while circling him, always threatening him with the point of his tapered longsword. The two proved more challenging than he had anticipated, for when they attacked, they attacked simultaneously. He managed to fend off one, the other managing to break through with his far shorter blade making contact with Keln's face, forcing the young man to draw back.
As if suddenly struck by bloodlust, the second man forced himself forward, following the lead of his comrade. Even with his cheek bleeding, Keln hadn't disengaged his blade, so when the man moved forward, he lunged with a perfectly-timed thrust, catching the man's torso, the sharp point piercing through fabric and flesh alike. He fell limply to the ground.
Keln was exhausted, panting and bleeding. His right cheek was entirely red by now, and the fabric of his jacket was beginning to collect the drops that fell. Still, he held his sword firmly in both hands and, just as before, held out the tip toward his opponent. The man, once smiling with confidence, now stared blankly at the boy that was likely half his age, then his comrade lying face-down on the ground. He was ready to flee, and when the brushes rustled behind Keln, he did.
"Are you unhurt, m'lady?" Keln asked, sheathing his blade. Meanwhile two others arrived from the same direction Keln had. A half-elf as well as another human.
Trinket
