Times of Turmoil

[Fehrant]

Prima. King Polmeron's Chambers

Polmeron glanced over several written parchments frantically. He complained and puffed all the way. He was a fat man, already showing white hair. He had a waspy, thin beard and strands of white hair falling from his crown.

Standing silent on the other side of the room, Lambert peered out the window at the sky. He was younger than the king, and at the moment showed far more composure. Lambert was the right hand of the king, and the king who tended to be an impatient, whimsical man often conferred with his old friend and counselor, who now stood silent as Polmeron became more and more exasperated.

"Say something, Lambert!" The King demanded without taking his eyes of the parchments.

"There isn't much to say on the subject, your grace," replied the counselor very calm. "As I explained before, while we believe the piece of land belonged to us before the barbarian invasion, now it has all become fuzzy the closer we get to each kingdom's borders, and not to mention the new territory." He made a slight pause. "It's no longer a matter of who it belonged to, your grace. It's a matter of who makes the strongest claim to it, so as to shy away the other two competitors. Sarte knows this very well."

King Polmeron tossed the parchments aside in frustration. He glared at his calm friend, but his features eased up. He was right. He was often right, and Polmeron knew it. That's why he was his right hand. "I thought you had offered him a sweet deal two years ago, and he had taken it."

Delambert turned to face the king. He was taller, and much leaner. Instead of looking full of life like the king, he looked devoid of it: a bored, tired gaze that carefully measured the world. He was a cunning man, a thinker, a planner and sometimes a deceiver. He handled the court when the king didn't feel like it, he handled the boring ordeals the king didn't want to -which happened to be most-, and he also handled more than the king could account for. Loyal or not, he certainly liked to have things under control with his own bony set of hands.

"Yes," acknowledged Delambert. "I did offer it, and he did take it. Two years have passed, your grace, and despite keeping to my word, Sarte was not very happy with how the arrangement turned out."

Polmeron's took a couple of grapes from a silver plate nearby and ate a few. "What do you mean?" He asked, puzzled.

"There are some things the King is better off not knowing," the king's right hand recited. This was a motto of his, and one he used very often.

"Aye, aye, you always say that. Fine, then. What are we to do? I don't want to risk an all-out war with our neighboring kingdoms."

"No one does, your grace," Delambert stated. "They have to deal with the barbarians first, and though it could be said the Eastern kingdoms are winning the war, there's still much to do, not to mention the toll and resources it takes for this war."

"No, they will certainly not risk it," assured Delambert. "However, your grace, that's not to say they will do anything about it. Tactics have changed."

King Polmeron frowned. "You always talk in enigmatic ways, Delambert. Why can't you say things plainly for your fool of a king to understand? What's this about the tactics changing?"

Delambert cleared his throat. "Because no kingdom can afford to risk an all-out war, they use means to keep their hands clean. They pay mercenaries and assassins, and do damage that isn't as massive. Most of the times, at least. These past two years have given mercenaries and assassins plenty of work, and they still have more to do. Much more." His last two words sounded livelier than the rest of his sentence.

"There are some things the King is better off not knowing," Polmeron repeated. "I will leave it up to you, but do try to keep me up to date on at least some of the events. Sometimes I feel like I'm completely in the dark."

"Very well, your grace."


Outskirts of Barbarian Territory. Northern Part of the Ghostwoods.

A squadron of fifty armored men marched through the woods. They had light, shinning plate armor, helmets, and red capes with a golden emblem of a golden baton, over a green field and a clear, blue sky. Prima's symbol. This was a small unit of the Prima's royal army.

A small group of barbarians were believed to have set camp somewhere around the area. Because it was close to the bordeline of the territory between Prima and Prisa, they had a small group of each kingdom's army deal with the barbarians.

Indeed, far away to the right of Prima's unit, a company of fifty men of Prisa tread carefully in search of the barbarians. They had plate armor as well, but their capes were green, their brown and green emblems of a forest and mountain were not visible, even the one enameled in their shields.

Leading this small unit of Prima was a towering man wielding a wicked axe. He would've fought with his bare hands, but each soldier had to be armed with something. He had requested an axe specially crafted for a man of his size; regular swords seemed puny in his hands, and notably uncomfortable for him.

"Captain Bear! Captain Bear!" A voice called out silently.

Bear. He should've tossed the Pack alias aside, but he had somehow grown fond of it. Not to mention, he did not have a last name, and no soldier would call his captain by his first name. Thus, when he joined the army, he had given his last name as Bear. John Bear. Perhaps a bit awkward, but no one would dare laugh in his face.

"Aye," he replied quietly in a voice befitting his massive size.

The soldier came trotting next to his side, armor clanking all the way. He joined Bear walking at his pace. He looked up. "Our scouts have found the camp, but it was empty. We believe they are laying in wait. They might try to ambush us."

Ambush. The word left a bitter taste in his mouth. If it weren't for an ambush, he wouldn't be here, leading 50 men to danger. He would instead be the one following orders. He felt with his massive hands and arms he could grab any men and squeeze the life out of him, but that wasn't the same for her. Raven always felt like a feather. Even with her slender frame, and feminine shoulders, his brute hands would most likely not be able to hold such a person. He was bigger than her, but her spirit towered over him. He had always felt such. He should've jumped to that crevice, and protect Raven from the fall. He would've likely died in the process, but it was for a worthy cause. He remained pensive for a moment, then snapped out of it, the soldier awaiting a response.

He patted the man on the back, almost making him fall. "Ha, unlikely. The barbarians fight right out in the open, no fancy tricks, no hiding. They don't plan, they just fight."

The soldier fixed his helmet. "What, then?" Questioned the soldier.

Bear gave a massive shrug. "They have most likely moved on, or better..." He grinned. "They spotted us first, and are gathering reinforcements. We'll have one hell of a fight in our hands. Cheer up, lad. We won't be bored."

Or so he said, but he was the one that actually needing cheering up right now. Even after two years, the word 'ambush' triggered a whirlwind of emotions inside of him. He hoped the coming fight would stop him from thinking, even if for a short while. He tried to pushed the memories back, but he couldn't. He wanted the barbarians to attack right now, but they didn't. So he started to recall that fateful event two years ago.


Duke Barbora's Fortress. Outside of Barbora's Manor. Two Years Ago.

The Pack moved in the shadows, through thickets carefully trimmed making paths towards the looming manor. They came from all directions, slowly surrounding the enormous mansion. A figure donned in a cloak black as the night moved in the front. Raven had the cloak's hood on, and her black, long hair flowed out. She stopped, signaling with her fist to those behind her to do the same. She carefully approached them.

"I don't like this," she declared in a soft tone of voice. "No guards, no visible folk. I don't like it at all."

Hedgehog grinned. He always did. "Maybe they are on having a wild orgy? Wait no, we would hear the moans too."

"Change of plans," said Raven oblivious. "We got to find the rest of the Pack. Hedgehog, Bear, split up and try to find the rest before they go in. I'll go and scout up ahead."

"Understood," acknowledged Bear. He left.

"Off to find me an orgy," quipped Hedgehog as he left in the darkness.

Few moments later the Pack had been gathered, even though some had already went in. Everyone waited outside while Raven explored the manor with Kitty. The manor was deserted. No one was there, not even Barbora's servants. Raven and Kitty left, and gathered with the rest of the members ago.

Raven spoke. "This is a trap. We got to get out of here now."

"Trap?" Asked a member of the Pack. "How would they know we were coming?"

"I don't know," confessed Raven. "We'll figure it out later. Let's move out, now."

As if requested by her orders, a fire arrow shot into the sky, signaling the commence of an attack. Everyone stood still. An army marched. They approached, but it wasn't clear from where. It was an ambush.

"Quickly, the other way!" Losing the stealth factor, Raven darted into a sprint, and run the opposite way they have come through.

With an unknown enemy, of unknown numbers, the Pack attempted to flee. One thing was certain: the enemy was prepared. They knew the Pack was there.


Kitty. Mountain Valley of Prisa. Present Time

You come upon a mountain valley in Prisa, bordering the edge of the Ghostwoods (very far from Bear though). As you enter the town you see a racket going on. Several peasents are complaining to a well-dressed man who appears to be the local authority, or at least the owner of this town. If you bother to pay attention, you hear a band of barbarians who had been coming and stealing food for some time now took it too far and actually kidnapped a peasent's daughter. It seems odd to you barbarians would do that, and after hearing an old man saying it's a local brigand of thieves, you realize that's probably it. You have fought with barbarians before, and you know they don't stoop to do petty things like that.

Serpent. Town of Arende. Present Time

The Town of Arende is between Prisa and Prima, south of the Mountain Valley of Prisa. It's a well-known spot for markets, and many people travel here just to trade. The town is full of nobles and rich merchants. It seems that on a particular rich-folk gathering, a wealthy merchant got humiliated by an uptight noble. The merchant hired you to go into the noble's manor, trash his place a bit, and kill a couple of his guards (but not him).

Panther. Town of Arende. Present Time

The market you work on is in Arende. You've kept a low profile, and after these past two years you have heard absolutely nothing about Raven. However, in the past week, there was a rumor that really unsettled you. It seems on a tavern, a group no one has seen before entered, all well armed and looking unfriendly. They say a woman dressed in black, entered in a flash, took out a knife, and killed the five, quickly leaving as she had entered. The rumor is rather vague, but one thing you know for certain: the knife is Raven's trademark weapon. She didn't use swords or shields. People from all over the Eastern kingdom come to Arende, so it would not be rare for someone to request an assassination here. There are guards posted all over the place but still assassination, settling of feuds, and thivery occur very often.


Gecko. Southeastern Ghostwoods

Despite being borderline with barbarian territory, your tutor's hut has been fairly secluded from the world, and your solitary life has indeed been a quiet one these past two years. That's why it came as a suprise to you when two astray soldiers from Prisa found your hut one day. Apparently they lost their way after a very intense battle with a group of barbarians, and someone wound up here.

That night, they camped nearby, even invited you to their campfire. They exchanged battle stories, one in particular standing out for you. It seems their company, a few days ago prior to entering the Ghostwoods, found another unit of soldiers from Prima, heading out to deal with a group of barbarians who was camping near the border. In this unit, the soldier from Precia had heard a very interesting tale about how his friend's commander, a towering man with a wicked axe, had lost his weapon mid-battle and fought with his bare hands, taking down barbarians all the same. The name "Captain Bear" pops up amidst this tale, and with that you're sure they are talking about your old comrade by the same codename. Apparently he was headed somewhere in the northwestern part of the Ghostwoods.

Owl. Millia (capital city of Precia)

A particularly big cargo of books was going to arrive to town a few days ago. It was assaulted, and every single book was stolen by a clever band of ruffians who in the past hid in the mountains near Millia. This was not their first move, but they had been inactive for quite some time after a few of them were caught, and executed in public. The matter was considered closed. Showing their existence again as they willingly left the bandwagon driver alive to tell the tale, you are tasked to investigate on the matter, and help some of the few generals (actually two, with a company no bigger than 25 men each) providing strategic counseling. You're undermanned for one simple reason: Sarte cannot find about it. He cannot know the bandits were not properly dealt with.

Elephant. Millia (capital city of Precia)

It seems that the government figure you are currently serving as a bodyguard was expecting a particular book to arrive in a cargo that was stolen. He is extremely angered about this, and sends you to bring back some information on the possible whereabouts. He tells you there's a small group working on the matter in the library, and he asks you to provide assistance so long as it involves the recovery of the book he was expecting.

Shark. Villabelle

Your travels have led to you Villabelle, a small village in the western coast of the kingdom of Prima. You settled there, and became the village's doctor, instantly earning the respect of its inhabitants. The villagers often incur to you for advice, and generally hold you in high regard.

A wounded man wearing Prima's military attire approaches the village in need of rest. It appears he's a scout, and a company of barbarians who was going to be dealt with was not intercepted in time and is coming this way. He tells you everyone should flee the village, because even though another scout went to inform the Prima party that was going to intercept them, they might not make it to the village in time. And the barbarians are famous for not leaving any survivors. The barbarians are a big company, about 50 or so, and there's so much you can do alone.

Wolf. Edge of the Forest of the Swan

With the Forest of the Swan being near barbarian territory, and the recent group of Prisan soldiers making a temporarily settlement in the woods, and the recent viking raids to the outpost, you have had more in your little two hands than you could handle as far a protecting the animals is concerned.

One night at the edge of the woods you spot an entire fleet of more than 200 viking galleys going south. Vikings are basically barbarians on boat, share the same unintelligible language, are a bit more organized, and have the same thirst for destruction.

Needless to say, swimming to them is pointless, and you cannot deal with 200 barbarians on your own.

Rhino. Manicia

The village you settled in as a blacksmith is Manicia. While it is on the southern edge of Prisa, it is still close to barbarian territory. Although you are mentally prepared to deal with barbarians if it comes to that, between them and you there's now an outpost hid in the forest of Prisan soldiers. Paid by the Prisan king, you and your apprentices have been taking care of their weapons and armor, whenever there was the need. It seems there has been a recent attack on the outpost by vikings, and some soldiers fear they will not hold longer if the attacks keep happening over and over.

[Caije]

The owls began to waken from their deep slumber as the moon hid behind the clouds, making the manor almost invisible except for the dim lights from candles that came from the study. A man studied the structure, scanning the guards on patrol. His snake eyes taking in every bit of information they could find.

He stood in the shadows, a long chain wrapped around his arm, reaching up to his shoulder. He showed no sign of emotion as his feet started to trace through the long uncut grass. He released his chain from his arm, letting it slither off the floor as he got closer to the house.

Two guards stood at the door, shivering from the ice-cold atmosphere behind them. Their weapons weren’t drawn, not yet. The man with snake eyes began to smile. As he approached them, without a sudden warning, the chain was swung violently, smacking one of the guards in the stomach. He dropped to his knees and clutched his stomach, attempting to breathe as his partner drew his blade.

“Who the hell are--” The steel chain struck again, smacking the soldiers fingers causing him to drop his sword. He took a step back from the intruder. “H-Hey! You want the noble, you take him… we’ll step right out of your way.”

The intruder smiled menacingly as he held his weapon with both hands, swinging it over his head. He launched it forward smacking the guard on his knees again, this time wrapping the weapon tightly around his throat as his partner reached for his fallen sword. The neck snapped under the heavy pressure. The remaining guard launched forward, swinging his sword.

The intruder pushed forward his human shield, allowing the blade to impale the corpses flesh. He unleashed the chain from around the corpses body and struck repeatedly, until the second guard was dead.

Serpent hissed as he slipped through the unlocked door and went into the study. There was the rich noble, fast asleep in his study, an unguarded candle stood at the edge of the room, and Serpent saw this as an opportunity.

He threw the noble to the wall, pulling his arms behind his back and wrapping the chain around them. The man struggled against the restraints as the intruder took up the candle, and threw it carelessly at the corner of the room.

“W-W-What the hell are you doing!?” He spat.

The bookshelf, and curtains quickly caught fire, and pages scattered across the room were shrouded in intense flames. The intruder smiled, as the man panicked, seconds passed and still Serpent hadn’t moved. As the smoke filled the entire room, the snake-eyed man pulled the noble up and dragged him through his house.

The door was kicked open and Serpent threw the noble out to the fresh air. The noble coughed and inhaled. Quickly, Serpent released the binds on his arms. He took the end of the chain and swiftly smacked the noble on the head. After making sure he hadn’t accidentally killed the noble, the intruder walked away from the blazing house, vanishing, as he stepped into the darkness.

[Acheron]

Mr. Smith sat on the edge of his bed, looking at the prize that was bound before him. He was going by the name of Mr. Smith for the time, it was not his real name and for all the desk clerk cared, it did not have to be anyone's name. Names did not really matter at an Inn like this one. On the outskirts of Prisa, it was mostly made up of people who did not want to be found, or vagabonds making rounds in and out of different lands. The man going by Smith held an apple in one hand, rubbing it against the side of his pants, before he brought it up to his mouth and took a large bite. This apple had belonged to the man sitting in the chair in front of him, tied up with heavy rope, which seemed to be coated in some accelerant. With a sock jammed in his mouth, he could not do much besides wiggle around and look terrified, which was well justified.

"I have to say, you at least pick a decent apple", Smith smiled a little bit and then threw the core down to the floor once he was finished. "I guess since I'm all finished and probably should be on my way, we should wrap all of this up, eh?".

Smith got off the bed and pulled the sock out of the man's mouth, allowing the man to finally get a decent gasp of air into his lungs. Once he sat back down, the man seemed like he was ready to talk.

"I swear....I didn't mean any harm....I just came to talk to you....", the man already sounded like he was pleading.

"Your name is Albert Smith. This room is rented in your name; you've been here for three days. For two of those days, you've been watching me as I came back from the border and then went over again. Essentially, you've been following my every move. Better yet, I allowed you to believe that I did not notice. The best part is, after I kill you....I'll walk right out under your name...and nobody will know of your death till it is too late...", the man tried hiding his smirk once he finished talking, but it was futile. This was not the first time someone had come for him and he had taken the upper hand.

"How? How do you know all of that? I've never....", once the real Mr. Smith started to think about it in his head, he stopped babbling along. "So it is true what they say about you, that you know...now I can see why you're..."

"It does not matter what you can see or what you cannot Albert. You clearly could not see far enough to anticipate this, which considering what you think you have heard of me, it's quite the insult. Let me clarify though, what you think you have heard of me, it is only what I have allowed others to hear", he said this not filled with pride, but very coldly.

Albert Smith tried to move around but the ropes were holding tightly. He did not want to look his captor in the eyes, but whenever he tried to look away, he failed. "I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, but you're not going to win....Someone will figure you out, sooner or later....You're not that slick...you're just a man who lead a unit against children."

"Now now Albert, that was quite harsh. We do what we are commanded to do, you should know that. As for the specific day you're speaking about...well...it was fun to see the morals of the Pack....", the man got up from the bed and started stretching, "I would love to spend more time and talk with you, but I must be off".

He reached down and pulled out a dagger from sheath around his ankle. Once he did so, Smith started to move around more but once again, it was to no result. When the man stood behind Smith and brought the blade to his neck, that's when he started to cry and plead.

"Please....I've got a family....my wife just had another child. I've got two little girls, please....I'm sorry...I was just following orders...I should have known better than to try and attack you....", Smith was being genuine with the man.

"You do?", the man came back around from behind Smith and stood in front of him.

"Yes, please. My wife and our two daughters, Sam...."

"Samantha and Christina. Your wife's name is Allison. Was Allison I should say", that smirk was once again across his face.

"How do you...?"

"I followed you for three days before you started following me. An hour after you left the house, I went in and paid your family a visit. I made it quick for your daughters, I didn't do the same for your wife, she died slowly. It was her punishment for marrying such a moron", before Smith could protest again, Wyatt placed the dagger on his neck and pulled down. He moved out of the way once the blood started spraying, careful not to get his clothes messed up.

Once he was all finished in the room, Wyatt went downstairs like nothing had happened. With his staff tied up on his back along with his pack, he was ready to head out. Before he left, he made sure that he signed the log as "Mr.Smith" and had paid the bill in full.

[Hyzenthlay]

The town of Arende was buzzing with rumours. People were passing on infomation to eachother as they passed in the street. Even the vendors of each stall had his version of the tale of the woman in black. She had killed at least 5 people, apparently. Some said it had been closer to 20. The town had become a giant game of chinese whispers. Most people had missheard or exhaggerated what they had heard. Trying to make an already jawdropping tale all the more breathtaking.

Jenna stood at her stall and shook her head. Many stories flew through this town. Most of them were lies or rumours. Pieces of gossip made up by bored merchants to draw more custom to their stall. She moved her hair from her eyes, moving it behind her ear. A customer approached an he looked quite wealthy. Jenna needed this sale and she needed it to be large.

"How may I help you, sir?" She asked politely, her navy eyes scanning over his expensive clothing.

"I'd like to hear your version of the story. The one that is spreading through this town like wildfire. Whilst the gossip burns your lips stay still. I think maybe you have the most interesting account of what happened. One that is not subject to popularity." He smiled at her. The man had a finely made black suit. Wide cuffed and with a flat hat to match. He looked very wealthy.

"I have no tale to tell, I'm afraid. I try to keep my ears shut and my eyes open. You shouldnt believe the rumours that curse this town." Jennas gaze was on her stall. She straightened the cottons, silks and velvet that lay before her. Such fine suits needed to be handled with care.

"Well maybe you could compile what you have heard into an interesting story?" The man suggested. He gently twisted his beard and smiled.

"I would do so, sir. If only I knew enough to tell... I'm afraid I have gaps in my knowledge. I must get back to work." She was now loosing her temper. She needed one final sale, then she was able to leave the stall for the night. Having then reached her quota.

"Perhaps I could purchase something in exchange for a story? A woman of such beauty should not stay quiet. I yearn to hear your pretty voice sing again." He flirted.

Jenna rolled her eyes and looked up at him. She would have said something but she wanted to make a sale.

"I heard that a woman dressed all in black strolled into a tavern last night. I heard she killed five armed men in rapid succession and then ran out. She wasnt seen outside again. Some say she killed more but the most common number is five." Jenna said, gently. "Now sir, please. Make your decision and purchase an item."

"Ah. You missed the part about her weapon, dear lady. She killed them all with a simple dagger, a small blade. That is the most facinating part. Such skill must have been needed. Thank you for your account. I'm writing an article on the subject. Now, as promised..." The mans eyes dropped from Jennas face. He was now looking at the suits she had for sale.

Jenna looked at him, open mouthed. She hadnt heard the woman was dressed in black and used a dagger. In fact, the dagger part had completely escaped her knowledge. She watched as he picked up a fine velvet tunic and handed it to her.

"Th-thats 120." Said Jenna, still open mouthed.

The reporter handed her the money and turned to walk away. Before he did so he looked over his shoulder and smiled.

"Thank you for your help and thank you for the tunic!" With that he strolled off into a wave of people dissapearing in a vast sea of faces.

Excited at the prospect now dancing around her brain she called over to her boss.

"Callum... Mister Drake... I'm going now. I have something I want to do!"

"Very well, my dear." The elderly man Callum Drake called back, "I'll keep your window open, as always!"

Without replying Jenna took off. She needed to get to the tavern. She had to ask the barman for herself what had happened. Could this name clinging to the tip of her tongue be correct? Or was she being stupid?

She pushed her way through endless droves of people. Usually she would have been wary of pickpockets but not today. She finally made it across the street to a house that lay there. Jumping, she caught a high window ledge. She then swung her legs upwards, kicked off a piece of stone jutting from the wall, and gripped the roofs edge. She pulled herself up, stood, and looked down to the crowd of people below. She had to head north, towards the tavern. She set off at a sprint. Jumping roofgaps and over balconies. On occasion she even had to jump, grip scaffolding, swing upwards, settle on the bar and then jump onto a roof opposite. It would have been tiring work for a person less used to this way of travel. She found it easy to navigate high walls and long gaps, it was much easier than pushing past a crowd of people. Much more fun, too.

The bar eventually came into view. The sun now just about peeping over the hill to the west. It's glow leaving a red hue on the sky above. Jenna landed silently on the foof of the bar. She peered down at the entrance for a minute or so. She was trying to think what she might say to the barkeep. Soon enough she grabbed the edge of the roof and gently flipped down, landing on foot and knee. She turned slowly, dusting herself off. She wasnt wearing her armour, just a white tunic and beige trousers. Even as she entered the bar she saw how rough it was. Not that she wasnt accostomed to this, she just knew she had to be careful. The last thing she wanted was to fight somebody and draw attention to herself. She carefully passed all the burly, hairy men dotted around. Each one giving her a toothless grin. Some were fat, some quite hansome. The only thing she knew was that they deffinatly wernt known for their kindness. If they wanted one thing it was beneith her clothes. The barman himself wore an eyepatch. His chest hair was visible above his jumper, too.

"Hello." Said Jenna as she approached. "I need some infomation from you Barry."

The barman, luckily, knew exactly who she was. He knew her past, too. She used to come here when she were on duty. Drown away the hours as she travelled the country and beyond.

"Well, Pan. It has certainly been far too long!" He spoke, a smile now spreading across his face. Without even asking he grabbed a beer and handed it to her. "What can I do for ye!?"

"I want to know more about the woman in black. I need to know exactly what happened and I dont care for buisiness-boosting exaggerations!" Jenna now grabbed her beer and took a sip. It's taste taking her back to her fighting days in The Pack.

"I gotcha! Well, all I can tell yer fer certain is tha' she wern't no regular! She was in and out in a flash. Most people that kill people in 'ere order a drink afterward." He jested. Seeing that Jenna wasnt amused he continued, "she came in. Thrashed about abit and left 5 men ont floor. Dead outright they wer', barely even moved before they wer' ont ground and lifeless!"

"I know all that. Tell me of her attire. Of her equipment." Said Jenna, calmly.

"Oh, righ'... Righ'. She wer' all in black. Kinda ominous flow to what she wore. Like she wer' a grim reaper. On'y thing was tha' she used a dagger. Most perculiar if you ask me. These fellas tha' came in... They all had swords an' tha'. Can see how she managed it. Born to kill, some people... Born for to take lives." Barry was now wiping his bar with a cloth in circular motions. "And I'm afraid tha's all I know, Pan."

"My name isnt Pan, anymore. It's Jenna... I left Panther behind." Jenna finished her beer and exited the bar. She needed a place to think. Somewhere secluded so that she could clear her head.

She jumped and pulled herself onto the roof. Crouching low she looked to the west. The sun had now completely dissappeared and night was setting in. It was the perfect opportunity for her to visit her parents old farm. That would be a good place for her to gather her thought. She set off at a fast pace. Jumping rooves and dodging loose slates. Over street and alley she ran, eventually reaching the edge of town. She leapt from the last roof, landing perfectly in a crouched position. Head up, she scowered the landscape. She stood up straight and walked out into the dunes. Her parents farm didnt seem all that far away, not when you were used to it.

She reached the farm in no less than 20 minutes. She placed herself down on the old porch and looked out across the southern plains. Just thinking over the infomation she had gathered today. A simple piece of gossip had caught her imagination and flipped her mindset 180. Could it be so? Could this be true?
Was Raven in the town of Arende?

[Victoria]

Perched atop a tree branch as the dawn breeze kissed my cheek and awoke me from my slumber, the village nearby took part in a ruckus. One of the commoners brought about an outburst toward the village owner. I hopped from my perch and walked toward the commotion in an effort to discover the cause. People gathered around the entrance of the village. I peered in from the back of the crowd to listen in on the ordeal.

From what I gathered by the complaints, a band of barbarians who had come in the past to steal food, have struck too deep and kidnapped a peasant's daughter. I let out a soft sigh and shake my head at the false accusations. From my combat experience with barbarians, they never stooped this low. They never cared to stoop this low because they were bloody savages who left no survivors. They had no need to stoop to petty theft and abduction. They just killed and maimed.

Just as my mind couldn't take anymore of it, an old man spoke up and declared that it had been more logical to assume it was a local brigand of thieves. I nodded my head in agreement and gave a smirk as I crept back into the shadows to fulfill the unofficial mission. If I rescued the daughter and brought the bandits to justice, the village may just give me the funds I need to survive for another week or two.

I nearly made it out without detection, but somehow I must have stuck out.

“Hey, you.” I heard in a slight overtone. I turned around and tilted my head in confusion and pointed to myself.

“Yeah, you. ...I believe I have seen you once before in the presses... Yes, you were with that rambunctious riffraff, the Pack, right?”

I rolled my eyes at the tone of speech coming from the village owner. I nodded my head in confirmation. I could see a mile away where this was going to go.

“What say I give you some coin to... settle this matter for me?”

I gave a sigh and shrugged, “...I was going to go even if you didn't ask me to. ...But I'll take your offer instead.” I swept my hands through my belt and equipped my claw gloves.

“Fabulous. I expect you'll be here by sundown.”

Sundown? What does he think I am, a mule? I pondered to myself as I nodded without hesitation. He walked off to go about his own business and the peasant whose daughter had been accosted walked up to me.

“Excuse me, Miss, I overheard the owner speaking to you and thought I give you this piece of information to aid you in your job. And if you do manage to bring her back, I do have something to give you...” she trailed off as her husband rubbed her shoulder in support.

“Love, you know we can barely make ends meet. We don't have anything to give this woman in return..” he turned her around and shook his head in dismay.

She nodded in disagreement, “Oh, I know we don't, but I do.. it's something I don't use anymore...it was before I met you..”

She wiped a tear from her eye and turned to me. “The bandits that did this are based not too far from here, sadly. They're deep in the mountain range off to the south-west, toward Arende.”

...Arende? Didn't I just come from that way...? I sighed to myself as I shook my head at the thought of going backward to move forward. How ironic.

I faked a smile toward her, and gave a slight nod. “Don't worry, I'll get her back safe and sound. You can trust me.” She may be safe and sound, but dirty and bloody is another story all together. I can't promise she won't get dirty.

Moments after I spoke to the old man from earlier to gain more information on the brigand, I used the last of my funds to stock up on sustenance to use for my small journey into the bandits' den. I made my way from the village and trekked my way back toward the town I had just come from. I run my fingers along my claws to test their sharpness. I nodded in content and picked up my pace into a dash as I spotted the entrance to the mountain range in the horizon. The sun began to rise high in the sky after my long trip to the den.

The sound of my stomach echoed into my ears, though I paid it no mind. As the sun arched in the sky, I felt my head absorb the heat and trickle a small stream of sweat down the side of my face. I flicked it away as I walked into the shade of the cliff side and the entrance into the mountains. I heard sounds come from around the corner and used the ledges to hop to a higher level, out of eyesight.

Two bandits appeared and continued to walk the path toward their domain. I kept my eye on their movement and assessed that they patrolled the area. I kept watch and timed when they would appear again, and debated with my own mind whether to knock them out silently and barge in there head on, or wait until nightfall and slit all their throats in their sleep.

I would prefer the latter if there wasn't a hostage at stake.

So I sat there on the ledge for several moments until I heard the footsteps creep toward me once more. I waited until they were close to my location and jetted myself off of the ledge and wrapped my thighs around both of their necks and brought their heads close together. My yellow eyes and emotionless face caught them off guard as I stuck my claws down their mouths to shred their voice boxes.

Gargling had been the last noise that came from their lips as blood sprayed from their teeth and holes in their throats. I flicked the red liquid from my blades and wiped off the rest with a cloth and crept along the path toward the main entrance.

I used the ledges as a foot path to run along the sides of the walls above anyone's eye sight so I could penetrate the hideout without too much detection. The scent of liquor and odor mixed in the air as I drew closer to their main headquarter. I cringed with the combined scent, as I never understood why people would drink the foul smelling liquid.

I shook my head and blocked out the pestering scent and focused on the mission at hand. The next objective for me was obvious. I had to discover the location of the abducted girl. I made mental notes of how to go about the next phase of the attack.

I heard a few more men head this way, all within my plan, as the two patrolmen took too long to appear at the main entrance checkpoint. As I perched atop the pointy ledges, my eyes spotted my prey. I pounced upon them and slashed my claws through their necks and tore out their esophagi and voice boxes. With what little they had left in their flesh, was not enough to keep their heads on their bodies and they plopped onto the dusty ground and rolled downward. Without a delay, I dashed along the wall to find another bandit to interrogate.

As I approached the deeper area of their hideout, I found a cavern entrance with a man made door blocking the path. I didn't let the wooden door stop my assault and crashed through the hinges and crawled along the ceiling to confuse the occupants of the main threshold. It delayed them several minutes and caused a few panicked discussions, but one of the brutes had enough intelligence to spot me on the ceiling.

I winked at him and smirked as I flew downward into the party of five. I waved goodbye as I flipped onto my hands and held out my legs in a split and spun on the floor like a top and shifted my feet downward to trip them of their remaining balance. I flipped back up onto my feet and chuckled softly to myself as I flicked my hair behind my ear with my thumb.

“I see a stray kitten has wandered into our humble abode...” said a voice that filled the air with confidence and had a lot more presence than the lackeys I faced so far. I turned my head to see where the voice originated from.

Down the hallway to the left, I heard footsteps echo toward me. I quietly ran down the hallway and jumped lightly in the air and launched myself from the ceiling toward the source of the footsteps. However, I had not expected to see my target being held in a joyous piggy back with the leader of the bandits.

“...I assume you've come to snatch this girl, have you not?” he glanced upward at the giggling girl who stopped her smiles and looked toward me with curiosity. She looked down at the man as she pointed at me.

“Daddy, who's this lady?”

He smiled and said, “She's a bad person, Gabby. She wants to take you away back to your mother.”

I stood there dumbfounded. From the ruckus earlier in the day, I thought that the girl that was accosted had belonged to a peasant woman. My mind tried to come up with solutions to this predicament. I scratched my head in confusion.

“I see that she didn't tell you everything, that woman. Did she perchance have blonde hair, green eyes, and a mole on her left cheek?”

My eye twitched at his accuracy. Things have grown so much clearer now. Crystal clear.

That woman used to be a bandit and took custody of the girl. The girl wasn't accosted, she just wanted to see her father and went along willingly. That prize is tempting, though... I pondered to myself. I glanced at the girl. I glanced at him. I glanced back where I came...

Then it hit me like a stampede. I could pull off getting the curious prize and have this girl be with her father still.

As I was about to snap my fingers in eureka, the sly fox beat me to it.

“Let me take a guess here and say that my ex-wife has a something to give you if you bring the little lady back to her. I saw you working your little kitten brain to form a plan of action, and let me tell you right now that what you seek will be of no use to you.”

I raised my finger in question, and he answered it for me, “You use those claws as your weapon of choice, right? That wench was going to give you sharp thread used for combat.”

I puffed my cheeks and glared at him softly as I looked back toward the entrance where I maimed the guards. Thread could have been useful to keep my presence hidden. I let out a sigh.

“I beg to differ.. I could have used that earlier to stay hidden.”

He pondered a bit, then shook his head as he chuckled.

“Love, I've known you were here ever since you came through the door. Rather... loudly I might add.”

I blushed and looked to the side embarrassingly. He stepped up to me and my instinct kicked in to get me into my defensive stance.

“What's the matter, woman? You're not supposed to hesitate when taking out your targets.” He said as he brought the girl down from his shoulders and she stayed behind him. She looked up at him and pointed at me again.

“Is she going to do something to you, Daddy?”

He shook his head and knelt down to her, “Me and the girl here have something to take care of. You go back to the room, okay? I'll come get you when we're done. Promise.”

“Okaaay” she said has she frowned a bit and went behind him into the room and closed the door.

He lifted up my chin and looked into my eyes, “You know, your eyes really do look like a cat's. ...And the way your hair on the sides stick out makes something like cat ears.. Heh, looks like I wasn't wrong about a kitten coming in.”

He raised a brow and glanced back at the room. I followed his glance and raised a brow of my own.

“Tell you what, love, if you want your little prize that badly, we can work out a deal. I can tell from our little clarification earlier that you planned something, right? If you'll hear the story of how this came to be, and why I took the wee lass with me, I'll let you take her.”

I rolled my eyes and nodded in agreement. I had to get her back by sundown.

“That fool of a owner wants me back by sundown, and it took me half the day to get here as it is...”

“Ah ha, but that's for his coin, not for my ex's prize. If it's coin you want also, we took some of that bugger's loot for ourselves. Help yourself to a bit of it, since this story will be a while.”

My lips were about to protest, but my mind worked its gears and concluded that since they came from the same source, it was okay. I didn't like that man anyway.

I cleared my throat and leaned against the wall as he went back to open the door. He motioned me inside and I walked past him. He smelled like maple with a hint of orange. He put his arm in front of me which caused me to stop in my tracks. I looked up at him with a raised brow and a tilted head. He ran his hand under my chin again and caressed my right cheek. His eyes glistened and for the first time today, I saw him in a different light. He was sly, he was cunning, but he was also really handsome.

He also just kissed me. My cheeks burned red with embarrassment as my eyes widened then looked downward. I melted into putty. This hardened assassin melted into putty from an encounter with a cute guy that pushed all my buttons. A giggle in the background brought me back to reality.

“I knew she wasn't bad, Daddy. Why did you lie?”

“I didn't lie, dear. She was just misinformed by mommy. Daddy straightened her out though..”

“And has also taken a fancy to her, hee hee.” she giggled at my expense.

I cleared my throat and forced down my redness. I sat down at the table and leaned on it with my elbows. He smirked and sat across from me while she sat on his lap. I had to admit that they looked pretty cute together. I unconsciously licked my lips as he started to speak.

“First of all, my name is Jesse. The woman's name is Connie. This little angel's name is Jessica.”

He proceeded to explain how him and Connie got together while she was part of the group and also mainly an assassin of sorts, but never killed anyone unless necessary. She was skilled with the thread, and also with projectiles. I learned that Jesse's crew began as sort of a Robin Hood type brigade. The two soon had Jessica and barely made ends meet to support her at first, and then had to steal from more than just corrupt rich people. Jesse wasn't bothered by this, but Bonnie had another say in the matter. That's where the conflict began, and soon enough Bonnie left the group with little four year old Jessica in tow.

Jessica is now eight. Jesse had been pilfering from other more well off villages until just the other day where he stopped by the village Jessica had been sighted at and stole a few materials from the owner and a sack of food from a few collective peasants and found an eight year old Jessica who interestingly enough remembered her father's appearance. She went along with him on her own.

And that's where they were today. That still didn't explain why he kissed me. Not that I was bothered by it.

“Little Jess was right, I have taken a small fancy to you, Kitty. I'll let you take Jess back, when she wants to go back.” He turned his focus onto her and asked her.

“I wanna go back tomorrow...” she said in a yawn. She plopped down on the straw mattress and fell asleep.

“She's cute,” I said as I kept my eyes onto his.

“So are you,” he flirted. I smirked as he leaned in to kiss me again with tongue. I complied and we moved around the room until he pinned me against the wall. Our cheeks flushed red with infatuation. His scent of maple ran through my nose as we kissed.



The sun had shifted throughout the sky and back to the east, where the morning called out. The three of us walked out of the main headquarters. I don't know how that sly fox managed to woo me to the point of clothing removal, but it happened. However, I didn't complain. I had a big grin on my face as he held my hand.

We went over the plan again and he reminded me of where Connie hid her “prize.”

I put Jessica on my shoulders and told her to hang on tight. Jesse and I had one last kiss before I rushed off to the north. That would probably be last time I see him, unless I somehow wind up going this way again.

A few hours passed and I was at the halfway mark, when Jessica spoke up.

“Aunt Kitty, do you like Daddy?” The abrupt question caused me to lose my footing and trip on my own foot. Jessica retained her balance upon my shoulders. I coughed and stood back up and dusted myself off.

“Hee hee... I'll take that as a yes,” She said boldly. I blushed as I picked up speed again to go back to the town. We would get there by around noon.

“Yes.. I do like your daddy.” I confirmed for her. We were a quarter of the way there at that point. She smiled and pinched my cheeks as I continued to dash with small spurts of jogs in between.

“Good... I like you too. You remind me of what mommy used to be like. I think that's why daddy likes you...”

“Oh?” I said as my eyes glanced upwards toward her. I couldn't help but smirk at her compliment.

“...I wouldn't be mad if you became my second mommy. I already have two daddies, with mommy's other husband. ...So....”

“.....” I was speechless. This girl was so forward and innocent with her speech that she caught me off guard. I barely met the man and she.. she gave me her blessing? But I wouldn't ever see him again.

“That's sweet to hear, Jessica... but I don't think I'll ever see your daddy again unless I come back this way some day. ...I wander around, sweetie. But.. I think I'll come visit again if I can. Would you like that?”

We arrived at the entrance of town. We snuck in through the side and headed straight for Connie's home. I knocked on the door, and the woman answered the door. Before she spoke, I pondered why Jesse didn't get upset at my maiming of a few of his allies. I suppose that was one of his good traits. He lacked certain emotions that I also lacked.

Connie squealed in delight as she glomped Jessica and held her tight. Jessica giggled in return and winked at me. I winked back as Connie went back into the house to gather the prize. I walked away with her combat thread with a smirk on my face as I licked my lips. My pockets were full of coin and my stomach was full of food, and my mood was good.

Though, little did the woman know, Jesse would be back for a private visit later this evening.

[Acheron]

The cool breeze coming through the window was something Evelyn enjoyed greatly. Her office was by no means stuffy in atmosphere, but she sometimes felt pretty removed from the rest of the Library when she was in there. It was needed though, as the Library did not run itself and someone had to keep track of the books. Besides the window being open, she also kept her office door open. While it helped with the cross-wind, it also allowed her to listen to one of the youth soldiers while he was reading a book in the Children's Corner. It was one form of punishment that the youth soldiers had to accept when they acted up. Most of them would complain and dread reading to the children of the capital, but Evelyn could not remember one soldier who hadn't enjoyed himself once the day was over.

Having the youth soldiers over to read for the children was not her only library program. She also offered classes for the youth soldiers, everything ranging from advanced weapons tactics to strategy. While she was not commissioned by the military or the kingdom to do so, they certainly did not object because of her background. The daughter of a former military genius, one hell of a fighter and strategist herself; the young soldiers were certainly getting a good education when they entered the library. That was really all that Evelyn could ask for. She knew very well that sometimes swords had to be raised and someone would have to lose a life. Yet she wanted the young soldiers to see how things get to that point, how it can be possible to avoid the battlefield altogether. One of the youth soldiers complained last week that they wouldn't have a job if there was nobody to fight, they would have to find some boring, normal job in the city. Evelyn just smiled and offered a question to him; would that really be so bad?

But this was not to be a normal Monday morning for her. Her new books were supposed to be in the library last Friday, so she could log them over the weekend and have them ready for check-out this morning. She was informed over the weekend that the transport was attacked; one man was left alive to tell the story. Evelyn could not understand why a transport carrying books would be attack, or why they would only leave one man alive. Yes, she knew why they left him alive but it was a transport of books, not exactly a treasure trove for those looking to make a lot of money. It did not matter why though, at least not at the moment. As she finished making her last note in the library finances log, she heard a knock on the open door behind her. Standing in the doorway were the two Generals from this past weekend, both of them along with her would be formulating a plan to get the books back.

She got up from her chair and took her glasses off, which were only for show, placing them on the desk. Evelyn walked over to the two Generals and shook their hands, then escorted them over to a large wooden table on the other side of the room; she already had a map on the table, along with a couple of sheets which had the information on the soldiers available. Slowly, Evelyn started going through the plan she had come up with.

"Unfortunately, we’re working with little information, or at least not as much as I would like to be fully confident in a plan. We do not know their exact numbers, we do not know how they are armed, these may seem like little details but I'm sure neither one of you wants to lose a man to something like this", Evelyn started making some markings on the map as she finished speaking.

"You're indeed right Ms. Faulkner. Losing a man to such a simple operation would be a shame", the voice came from the taller General, General Snow.

"...I think explaining the death would be the biggest problem, seeing how Sarte can't know a damn thing about this. I told you we should have combed further for these damn bandits!", this time it was from the smaller General, General Turner.

Before the two of them could get into a shouting match, Evelyn walked over to her office door and closed it. She then returned to the table where the planning was going on.

"But that's what I'm trying to get across to both of you; this is not necessarily a simple operation. There very well could be a loss or more than just one. They might be bandits, but clearly they are elusive enough to still be alive and ruthless enough to do what is needed to ensure their survival. So if either of you have walked in, expecting me to hand you a bulletproof plan, then you're in for a shock", she did not doubt her abilities and knew that either plan they chose to go with would work. Evelyn simply wanted them to realize this was not going to be a very basic job.

Both men looked to each other and then back towards her, it was Snow who spoke up. "We appreciate the fact that you're even doing this Ms. Faulkner. Knowing your lineage and time with the Pack...."

"I just don't want to see anyone die, that's it General", she became somewhat cold when the Pack was mentioned. "Shall I go into the first possible plan?".

Two Hours Later

Once she finished going into both of her plans, each General was equally impressed. The first plan involved a fake convoy being sent from the capital along the same route. This convoy would look very similar to the first one that was attacked, and would equally be an attractive target. Evelyn herself would be on the convoy, along with five troops. The rest of the troops would be waiting less than a mile out. It was risky, but she figured that having herself on the convoy would at least protect a few of the troops. Her second plan involved her leading a scout unit with three troops, out into the path so they could find the exact location of the hideaway. As she told them before the plans were revealed, they did not know enough for her to be fully confident in either.

Both Generals left her office and told her they would get back to her with a decision later in the day. This mission meant different things to the three of them. She wanted to get the books back for the library, there was no taste of vengeance in her mouth, and nothing was personal about this for her. It was different for the Generals though. They had failed to kill off the bandits the first time, now it was their asses on the line and Sarte was not a man who dealt with failure well. Evelyn re-opened her door once the two men left and sat down on a couch near her desk; she opened up a book and would be reading for a little bit before she went out into the library itself.

[Corwin]

Happiness. Contentment. Love.

Thus were the emotions of the young messenger as he daydreamed in the morning light. He sat on an intricately carved bench in a courtyard of the powerful Duke Igimar, letting his thoughts go this way and that and basking in the lush beauty of his surroundings. The leaves of the trees were emerald green, and the patches of flowers blazed with such color that they looked like something from a dream. There was an pond in the center, full of lily pads and fed by a tiny, delicate stream. A wonderfully exotic bird, a "peacock" as the messenger heard it called, sat on the pond's edge and lapped at its clear, icy waters. The walls were high, lined with ivy, and, as far as the messenger could tell, topped with gilt. Two guards, each armed with shining swords and beautifully crafted armor, were posted on either side of a small, iron gate, the crowded streets of Milla barely distinguishable on the other side. The sky one could see only in patches between the rich canopy of the trees. Save for the guards, he was alone in this place. Tranquility, he lazily thought. That's what this place was, a place of tranquility, of peace, of beauty. No, not just of beauty, but of heaven, made incarnate and placed upon the earth.

The messenger was a young man of 20, with blond hair and clear blue eyes. He was a large man, towering over most at 6 feet, and had the robustness of youth. He had a kind face with a firm, square jaw. It was a face that can one looks upon and instinctively know that this is a man one can trust. Indeed, he was a man of honor, who was always true to his word and tried his best to do the right thing. Given the opportunity, he would go far in life. Perhaps he would even be one to change the world. If only he were given the chance. Presently, he took out a pipe and some leaf, and began to smoke. He began to daydream again, this time of his young love back at his home. How long had she been pregnant? 6 months? 7? In any case, the messenger would soon be a father. He smiled at the thought.

"The Duke is willing to grant an audience now," a voice said from behind him. He jumped forward in surprise, turning about as fast as he could. His heart skipped a beat. A bronze skinned woman, with burning, almost luminous eyes stood before him. She kept her silky black hair in a huge braid behind her, ribbons of silk woven and precious gems woven into the ebony locks. She wore a crimson robe that was laced with golden silk and inlaid with emeralds, rubies, sapphires, diamonds! She was the most beautiful, exotic woman the messenger had ever seen. Her eyes were what did it, he decided. Her eyes and her face. He could stare for hours and hours, and he would never loose his wonderment. Then he noticed the somewhat annoyed look on her face. "The Duke is willing to grant an audience now," The woman repeated, this time almost in a snarl, "Shall I take you to him?" The messenger said yes, and followed her into the mansion.

The messenger soon realized that however beautiful the courtyard was, the mansion was ten times as beautiful. The wonders within it he could barely describe, and often he found himself stopping and his tracks and staring wide-eyed at the view. Every time he did this, the woman tugged gently at his arms and he snapped back into reality. "The Millian Mansion of the Duke Igimar is grand, but we must keep moving," She said once as she did this. "Millian? As in he as more than this?" asked the messenger. "Indeed," she answered, "The Dukedom of Igimar spans many miles. This is simply his city home," she answered as they continued on, sounding annoyed again. Just how big was this place? The number of ballrooms, servants quarters, libraries... It all reminded the messenger more of a palace than a mansion. He barely even noticed it when the woman stopped, a massive wooden door before the two of them. "He is within the study. I take my leave," the woman said, and bowed. He waited before she was out of sight, then gulped in fear. Before him was the private study of the Duke, and within it, the Duke himself. Nobility. Never in his life did the Messenger think he would have this opportunity. He turned the knob, creaked open the door, and slipped into the room. "Come in, come in!" a joyful voice called out to him as soon as he was through.

The voice belonged to a small, pudgy man perhaps in his 40's, with a huge, almost ridiculous mustache that was flecked with bits of gray. He wore the ornate robes of the Precian royalty. But he was not the only one in the room.

The man's companion was a huge man, bigger than the messenger, with massive, knotted muscles that looked like bands of steel. His skin was chocolate colored, and the sheer amount of scars and tattoos that decorated it froze the messenger in silent fear. Then he noticed the eyes. The cold, dead eyes. Those eyes had seen things that would send other men into madness. He looked as if he had killed and had almost been killed more times than he cared to count. He seemed almost alien, with movements too quick and calculated to belong to any conventional warrior. The messenger could do nothing but stare in fear.

The Duke looked at the messenger, then looked at the huge man, then back at the messenger, this time with a beaming, almost sinister smile on his face. "Ah, I see you've met my friend, Mandla. He's my personal guard, among other things. A dangerous man, to be sure. But dangerous men have their uses," he said in a laugh. Then he walked behind an oaken desk and sat on a plush chair. The huge man did nothing but stare. "Now," the Duke said, his tone more serious, "I believe you have a package? A book, of very great interest to me." The messenger grinned a bit, the charisma and charm of the Duke setting him at ease. "That's just what I came to tell to the most honorable Duke Igimar," said the messenger, bowing when he said 'Igimar', "There is no book. The cargo the book was in was stolen yesterday. The great merchant and writer Abdul Al-Alhrazed sent me to convey his humblest apologies."

The Duke did nothing but stare at the messenger. Then the noticed that he was getting angry. First the eyes bore into him, then the Duke became flushed, and finally he started shaking with unbridled rage. "How dare you..." the Duke said, slowly. "How dare you strike the Duke! I am a Duke! A DUKE! HOW DARE YOU STRIKE ME, LAY A FINGER ON ME WITH YOUR LOWLY HANDS! MANDLA! DID YOU NOT SEE HIM ATTACK ME!?" The Duke gave a shriek of anger and overturned his desk. "DID YOU NOT SEE!? SURELY YOU MUST HAVE SEEN. KILL HIM. I want him to SUFFER for his insolence."

Fear, Anguish, Confusion.

These are the emotions the messenger felt when Mandla Dlamini, formerly known as "Elephant", of the elite Prima unit known as "The Pack", held him by his throat, a full foot off the ground.

Pain, Cold, Void.

This is what the messenger felt when Mandla unsheathed a small sword, or perhaps a huge knife, and sunk it deep into the messenger's chest. In a flash it was out and the messenger was on the floor, gurgling on his own blood. As he grew cold and he started to fade, he found that he could only think of his lover. He tried to whisper her name. He died mid-syllable.

Six hours later

Elephant looked down upon the grand city from the lofty height of his window, thinking of the events from earlier that day. He made himself think about every kill now, forced himself to deal with the pain of taking a life. It came so naturally and so easily to him, and through his life he had become so calloused to it, so scarred from taking life after life. It disturbed him. Not the act of taking a life, not even of thinking about it after it was done. It was the lack of guilt, the lack of empathy for those he killed. That was what he feared. He remembered the sadness in those crystal blue eyes, and the gurgled murmur that came from those dieing lips. He remembered personally tossing the corpse into one of the Mansion's furnaces, and he remembered ordering servants to clean up the mess. He remembered the Duke calling for whores after his fury dissipated, his old Charisma and Devilish charm back in place.

After sating his blood lust, the Duke had sent out agents to find out what happened to that book he so desperately wanted. They came up with information of an investigation of the matter at the Grand Library. " Mandla, find out what happened to that book. Retrieve it, or I'll have your head. Do I make myself clear?" the Duke had said, though it was a half jest. Mandla had never failed the Duke before, after all.

And so, Mandla turned away from the window, walked through the mansion, slipped through the courtyard, and joined the throngs of people of Milla. He knew that whatever that book was, it was valuable. And valuable things tend to cause excitement. This could get interesting, he decided, and he grinned a wicked smile.

[Lady Rika]

Hayden crouched down a bit lower, wiggling her thighs down into the cool earth till she was hidden all the way in the lush green bushes. Her green eyes wide but not with fear of the cluster of men walking up and down the shore, their hands dried with the stains of blood, animal blood. Hayden was thankful that it wasn’t any of her villager’s blood yet the animals were family to her as well. Even the ones they ate.
It was a bond they shared, the beginning of life and end of life was destined not chosen by hunger or sheer will. The animals would know their time just as the Swan Villagers did. They stayed hidden and away from these savages or at least the intelligent ones did, Hayden branded herself one of the unintelligent ones. With her quiver loaded to the brim she stayed low in the foliage, watching, waiting for something to happen that would give her the chance to attack.

There was one man in particular she really wanted to skewer. She’d been watching him for going on nearly a week and it was he that made her blood boil, his eyes were that of a monster. She heard them call him Jarl a few times whatever the hell that meant. He out of all of them was the most unpleasant to look at. Hayden noticed that a lot of the men were young and oddly clean but this man looked as if he’d crawled right out of a dirtied pit.
His calves and neck were covered with the pelts of animals he had butchered, warmth from the cool nights and an interesting show for his fellow men.
The thick leather belt wrapped around his stomach held many pouches and numerous small weapons and objects she’d never seen before. Well there were many things on these men she hadn’t seen before.

Hayden watched his axe swing carefree in his meaty hand; it was clean and shone in the waxing moonlight. There was a strange design encrusted in the blade that reminded her of some sort of animal. Though it looked like no creature she’d ever seen before. Hayden felt in some odd way the longing to touch it, feel for herself to make it more real. Her eyes narrowed at the fur that clung to the long axes wooden frame. The fur looked oddly familiar but she tried to put it from her mind. It just angered her.

“Jarl!” One of the younger of the men called out, his feet sloshed through the sea water kicking up sand and thick sprays. A rope was clutched tightly in his hand as he dragged a small row boat behind him. He’d came from one of the many large ships to deliver a message or something of that sort but being that their language was a mystery to her Hayden had no choice but to guess. A thick strand of chocolate hair began to itch the side of her face, the feeling was driving her crazy but she knew ever a small movement would rustle the bushes and draw attention to herself. She’d just have to endure; the only wretched thing was that since one part of her body was itching a few more just happened to want to be scratched as well. Her leg, the palm of her left hand then her eye.
Trying to focus Hayden had put together that the term Jarl must mean something like Chief, boss or commander.
‘Sure looks like a commander.’ Hayden said to herself with a small tad of sarcasm.

She listened for a while at their words which made her head spin with confusion, but what she could piece together was that they were to stay for a bit longer because of something that was going on. The rest gave her a headache and she just watched.
The dirt rubbed softly against her pale skin, it was moist; blushing her flesh a light brown. A fat spider slid down from its web and walked across her arm, it wasn’t poisonous but she still wanted the thing off her. Instead of flicking it away Hayden merely turned her nose up to it in a childish manner, ignoring it till it crawled away. Then a snap of twigs jolted her attention, her heart nearly stopped.
‘Did I…no I didn’t move!’

The men whipped their heads towards her direction, eyes narrowing. Finally she heard what it was that was making a noise. The light growls ruptured from the shaggy throat, it was one of the animals she and her village treasured so dearly. Its fearlessness would be noted but it was also a stupid move that she knew would turn out poorly.
Hayden watched the slender grey paw press deeper into the earth readying itself to leap out at the men.

The younger man uttered something to his leader and was about to rush forward but the large man stopped him. His face twisting into a smirk.

The young wolf leaped from the forest and out into the open, men turned from their work, they stopped loading the small wooden boats and looked to the bearded man. He eyed the wolf as if it were another enemy but also disregarded it by tossing his axe to the side.
Hayden’s body went cold and ridged, fear for the beloved wolf spread across her body but she knew that she could do nothing as of now. Getting the attention placed on her would be just as stupid as the young wolf, that in itself could put her village in danger. The slaughter of her people would not be put on her hands. She would never risk their lives even though she was letting another member of her family die right in front of her.

Hayden clenched her fist as the wolf charged at the disgusting commander her eyes owl like from the fear. The wolfs mouth was open as it charged letting her huge canines show themselves, saliva dribbled out into the air as she dashed. Hayden held her breath when the young she wolf leaped up at the man.

Tears instantly flew down her cheeks as the ‘jarl’ reached his thickly muscled arm out and slammed it into the wolfs face. He knocked her to the ground, stunned from the hit. He made some sort of joke to his fellow men in the strange language making his fellow Vikings, his steps to towards the female wolf seemed to go by so slowly.

Hayden barely was able to smother her scream as she watched the man stomp viciously on the wolfs neck, her cries were loud and horrifying at first but soon died down as her windpipe was completely crushed. She watched the sand grow crimson as blood flowed out in heavy pints. She couldn’t take it no more, ‘Stupid it may be but I can no longer sit here!’ Hayden crawled backwards out of the bush and managed to escape her hiding place without being noticed by the Vikings.

She snapped her knuckles, hard, making her hand tremble with light pain for a few moments. Hayden eyed the tree in front of her, it was climbable so she found a stub to place her feet on and hoisted herself up. Hayden kept her head low as she watched the men from her high tower, gritting her teeth in distaste as they violated the female wolf by digging their hunting knives into her flesh to remove the fur. At least four or five men were helping the ‘jarl’ slice up the female keeping their attention far away from anything else. Hayden clutched her bow tighter before ripping an arrow from her quiver, she loaded the arrow and pulled back hard, too hard she knew but anger was her adrenaline now. Hayden savored the wind that brushed her face when the arrow was shot off, a smile crossing her face when she heard the shock and surprise from the men as one of their own was shot down.

The risk she was taking was dangerous but she didn’t care now, two maybe three would suffice for now and that was all she could afford. The leader whipped his head around to see where on earth the attack could have come from. Before he could pick up his axe two more arrows were quickly fired one in the neck of the young man closest to him and the second straight into the head. As soon as the third arrow was fired Hayden leaped from the tree landing a little hard on her feet but found herself fast before taking off into a run.
The dark of the night didn’t stop her from dodging the large trees and twisting through forest as if a creature of the wood. Hayden was sure that they wouldn’t journey too deep into the forest being they were only on the shore for a few resources before loading back up onto their large ships to travel hopefully back to where they came from. Hayden would try to kill that man before they left for good, she would track them till the end if that was what she had to do. She held a grudge hard.

Finally after about thirty minutes of running she slowed for a breath, her village was still a ways off maybe an hour or so away but it wasn’t too far. Thankfully she reminded herself often that barely any knew of the village and her people were safe.
Tomorrow she would be back to watch them some more though she wouldn’t be as stupid as she’d been before. No she won’t attack anyone no matter what they do but she would have to break the news to her village about what happened to the wolf.
It would be a great tragedy but also something to make her stronger, god knows she needed that.

[Storm]

The Ghostwoods: an area where time lapsed in complete silence, the only sounds were the echoing calls of warblers and chiffchaffs, and the occasional woodpecker. The sun filtered through the lush green leaves of the trees, a ray reflecting off the forest girl’s equally emerald eyes. She had lived here so long that she could not easily recall her age, but that was not important anyway. The ancient woodlands had no need for age- they were immortal, and as far as she was concerned, she was born from them. For a wood gecko like herself, the woods were a beautiful sanctuary, to others a hellish maze of spirits and demons, at least due to Old Wives tales. Even Barbarians rarely ventured here, which was good for her, although she guarded the forest, in particular the South East, with her life. She likely was one of the dreaded Phantoms of folklore. After all, she was a master of stealth through her late teenage years, and through her adult life. She was a deadly assassin and intelligence seeker of The Pack. She missed those days. Although she enjoyed her solitary life, she had not felt the warmth of company for 2 years. Although they were a group of feared warriors, she had not felt as tranquil around other humans as she had when the great craftsman, her respected tutor lived. All she did now was wake up, gather fruits and vegetables, snack, scout, hunt, cook and eat, scout again then sleep. It was now time for the first scout of the day. She grabbed her bow, rope dart and arrows, heading southwest through the trees. The first place she always checked- although hidden with the ivy and plants growing through the body of lumber, was her tutor’s hut- the only sign of civilisation.

As she approached the hut, the faint sounds of humans could be heard in the distance. She put an arrow in her mouth as she crept through the trees, following the sounds like a bat hunting an insect. There they were- just outside the hut. Two men, slightly injured, resting outside the log cabin. From their attire, they appeared Prisan, however the lady of the forest could not be too sure. She aimed, and took 3 warning shots around the startled men.

“The Little Dragon of the Ghostwoods!” one cried out as he tried to shield his friend.

“To whom you swear allegiance to?!” The woman shouted through the trees, hidden amongst the rich vegetation.

“Do not harm us!” The other man shouted from behind, as he staggered forwards. “We are two Prisan soldiers. We have lost our way from a battle with some Barbarians, just outside your forest. We need to recover, to rest and eat so we can fight again.”

There was a long silence between the two parties, broken only by the “kik-kik” of a pair of woodpeckers. The woman got up, and fired a few warning shots into the distance. When she was sure the coast was clear, she jumped down. The two men looked terrified, however they were defiantly from Prisa, and from the way they spoke, acted, looked and smelt, she knew she could trust them. She raised a hand to the more injured soldier and pulled him onto her back. His friend, although also injured, took the legs of his friend and helped her pull him into the cabin, onto the bed. The other man sat on a chair.

“Thank you for your kindness,” he said, resting his head on his hand. The woman grunted in recognition, as poured the water from a small pouch she wore on her hip into two clay cups. The less injured man took one, and she helped the other (who at a closer inspection looked more exhausted than injured) sit up, handing him the other cup.

“Don’t move,” she ordered. “Don’t tell anyone about this.”

The two men looked rather worried as she walked out the door. A mix of confusion, gratitude and scared. She did not like men, and found them harder to trust than women, who she often didn’t get on with at the best of times. Her tutor was one of the only men she had appreciated. Nonetheless, these were here allies in a sense, and they needed help. While they rested, she would work the well at the back of the house to get water, hunt a deer and set up camp for them away from the hut, in an isolated area of the woods.

[Fehrant]

Precia. King's Throne room.

In the farthest end of the gigantic room, a massive chair of the finest pine, adorned in blue silk and trimmed in white stood. A man wearing the finest garments of matching colors and a golden crown stuffed with white amethysts and blue sapphires sat atop of it. He had a thin mustache and a thin goatee. His eyes were deep blue and contrasted against his constant frowning eyebrows. Sarte was a stern man. Too stern for some. He partook in few festivities, he did not celebrate, and some said he did not smile. He was well respected, even feared. His justice was swift, and was constantly delivered.

A group of men wearing red garments combined with golden silks marched into the room. They stopped at a prudent distance, and only one kept walking. He stopped 10 steps away from Sarte's throne, and rolled a parchment.

"Through this humble servant of the kingdom of Precia, King Augustus The Fourth Polmeron hereby requests that a company of 500 of his majesty Sarte's best be sent to the northern front, where the kingdoms of Prima and Prisa has been dealing with barbarians in a combined effort. It has been agreed between King Augustus The Fourth Polmeron and between King Rafael Ciracus Omne of Prisa that it is time to rid of the barbarian scum inhabiting the lands yonder. While the honorable King Polmeron understands the northwestern front might be of no interest to his Majesty, he notes that dealing with the barbarian threat is a problem concerning the three kingdoms, and by proving soldiers like his Majesty Sarte has done so in the past will be a sign of good faith, and both the kingdom of Prisa and Prima will be indebted."

He made a pause. Sarte only grunted. The herald continued.

"As a token of our appreciation, we bring some fine tapestries from Prima, and some excellent weapons forged in Prisa. We hope his Majesty will appreciate them, and give them good use." The herald beckoned his hand, and a few servants rolled in the aforementioned items. Sarte glanced at them with bored eyes.

"Scribe," Sarte called. A withered old man sitting on a small table filled with parchments, quills and ink suddenly turned to attention. "Take note," he commanded. "Due to recent and future conflicts with viking raids, we can only spare 300 of our best. Tapestries and luxurious weapons are for nobles, and right now we need commoners to take up arms. The kingdom of Presia hopes you can understand." He made a pause. "That'll be all scribe."

The scribed approached with the parchment, a small wooden tablet, a quill, and some ink. The scribe held the tablet as Sarte signed the document. The scribe returned to his table, rolled the parchment, sealed it with wax, and used a ring to scribe the Precian seal. He handed the scroll to the herald who looked as if someone had just slapped him. "King Sarte," he called.

Sarte glanced at the man raising an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"The kingdoms right now are forming bonds to fight against the barbarians. We need to end this threat for once and for all, and not sending the requested amount might result in an advantage for the barbarians. Is this truly what you wish for?"

Sarte sighed. "Well spoken, herald," he said, but his tired voice made it far from a praise. "I have pressing concerns, and I will not discuss them with a messenger. Now leave."

The messenger bowed and left. He knew better than to talk back to the foreign king.

On their way out, they passed another group dressed in green and browns; Prisa's men. They awaited to be summoned to talk to the king as well.

"I can't believe this... Sarte!" The herald complained to another man from his company. The man looked nervous.

"I think we shouldn't talk about it here, Sir Raymond," he confessed.

"I think he is right," came a voice from a man walking 20 steps ahead towards them. He had white blouse and a blue long overcoat, white silk pants and black boots. He had long blond hair tied neatly, and fair skin. He looked like someone of class, important and elegant, albeit arrogant by the way he walked and the tone of his voice, not to mention the smirk plastered on his face. Sir Raymond stopped.

"May I inquire as to who you might be?" Raymond asked in polite anger.

The blond man shrugged. "A servant of the king. Just a servant..." He explained with the same tone of voice. Now he was two steps away from Raymond.

Sir Raymond tensed in anger. "I will have you know I am Sir Raymond of..." The blond man bumped into him, and kept walking the way he was intending to on the first place, completely ignoring Sir Raymond who staggered.

"My apologies," the blond man said with a tone that reflected the opposite. "I must see the king immediately."

A herald was about to announce the second group when the blond man walked in unannounced.

"Sir Biron," the king instantly acknowledged. "What brings you here at this time? I am busy as you can see."

The smirk on Biron's face remained intact. He stopped briefly and bowed, then approached the king until he was standing next to him. He whispered in his ear. "I have interesting news, my lord." Sarte remained silent, and nodded for him to go on. "It appears some of the men you trust haven't been... true to you, my lord," he explained delighted.

"Cut the chase, Biron. I have no interest for longwinded speeches. I already have my share of them already. Be concise."

Biron smirk spread even further. "The band of ruffians who had assaulted his Majesty's food cargoes and the wagon with expensive tapestry in the past are still active. Recently they stole a cargo of books headed for the library. The generals who had dealt with this in the past and who had supposedly ended the ruffian threat are now dealing with this under the wraps."

Sarte's face twisted in sour anger. His eyes fixed into Biron's, who was still looking delighted. The king on the other hand was fuming with anger. "I want you to take charge of this operation, Biron. I want you to recover the books, or at the very least kill every single one of these ruffians, their women and their children too. Bring some of them for public execution. And afterwards, I will deal with the generals myself."

Biron bowed. "It shall be done." He left.


Barbarian Territory. Northern Edge of Ghostwoods.

Bear's company marched towards the outside of the forest. As soon as the view was clear, Captain Bear glanced at the distance towards north and south, using a massive hand as a visor. "You see that?" He asked the sergeant next to him. A massive finger pointed south. Indeed, at the distance the silhouette of a horse became evident. A single rider approached.

"Shall I call the archers?" Suggested the sergeant.

"What, for a lone rider?" Bear burst out in laughter. "I'll go meet him."

"Aye, captain."

Bear walked towards the horse approaching at full speed. The features slowly became evident. He was a Priman scout.

"Captain Bear!" He called when in range.

Bear stood and looked expectant.

"I come from yonder south," explained the scout. "The barbarian host we seek, we... we missed them! They are further south down the forest. I believe at this rate they will reach Arende in a day or two."

Bear raised a massive eyebrow. "I'd say a day. The barbarians are relentless. If they have nothing to pillage, or destroy, they won't stop their march much."

The scout face turned to horror.

"Don't worry," assured Bear. "We'll get them. Good work, scout. Did you see the size of their company?"

"I could not with precision, Captain Bear. But I'd say a hundred strong."

Bear barked orders. The company assembled and mounted their horses.

"No time to lose, let's move out."

[Fehrant]

Serpent. Merchant Town of Arende.

You return to get your pay for a job well done. After all, you complied with all the terms of the contract. You just burned the house down, but what's the deal, right?

Wrong. The merchant is seething with anger, claiming your extra "bonus" ruined the whole facade and has drawn attention to the matter unnecessarily, and he could be accused of performing the did. He shouts, and four Arende guards (who had already been prepared you could tell by the speed in which they swarmed the room) point their pikes at you and demand you to surrender. The merchant openly accuses you of performing this vile did entirely out of malice.

Arende is a town of rich merchants. Security is always tight, and swift. The jails are brimming with burglars, and careless pickpockets. Dealing with the guards is one option, though that might draw attention to you and you won't be safe until you exit the city. Your other option would likely be surrendering, and escaping jail, either before entering o after.

Owl. Millian Library.

Your plan has been approved by the two generals. While making the preparations, a man with several guards approaches. You recognize him as one of Sarte's most esteemed bodyguards, but you don't know much about him. He immediately is aware of what's going on, and claims he will now be the person in charge. He demands to be briefed on the plan. You aren't an ordinary warrior, and neither is this man. You probably won't be held responsible for aiding the generals because you were a mere adviser, so as of now you see no choice but to continue with the plan.

Wolf. Forest of the Swam.

The battalion of viking galleys you saw the night before apparently landed, facing the southern flank of the forest. From the north, barbarians raided. It was a simple strategy, but an effective one. You don't know how many men are on the northern front, but you already know the are too many for a single person to deal with in the south. You realize that this place will likely fall to the barbarians' grasp in a matter of days.

Kitty. Mountain Valley of Prisa.

You are walking on the village at night, when suddenly a hand shoves you in the darkness, covering your mouth. It is surprising someone can sneak up to you, so whoever it is, that person has great skill. You struggle, but the person tells you to shush. For some reason you are compelled to pause for a moment, that's when you smell the person's hand in your mouth, the smell of the wild: grass and soil. It's a nostalgic smell. Your gut starts twisting with remorse.

"Find them. Everyone. We will pull one last job," says the familiar voice and lets you go.

You hear a cloak tugging in the wind, and you turn around eager to meet the face, remorse and happiness entwined together. You want to shout her name, to touch the person to see if this isn't a dream, but when you turn, she's gone. Frustration and sadness envelop your being.

What just happened?

[Victoria]

As I left the village in the dead of night, I felt hands wrap around my body and pull me into the darkness. I struggled but to no avail. Whoever ambushed me had great skill to pull it off. I wanted to turn around to see who it was, but they put their lips onto my ear and whispered softly.

“Find them. Everyone. We will pull one last job.” My heart raced as adrenaline rushed through my body. My eyes widened to hear this voice. Was I just imagining it? Was she really still alive?

Tears welled up in my eyes as I turned around to look at her, but she had already left me alone. I bit my lip in frustration as I fell to my knees. I welled up my anger into a fist and struck the ground. Did I punish myself for nothing? Did she enjoy my suffering? Why did she show up now of all times? Why not right away?

Yet she told me to find everyone for a last job. I took a few deep breaths to settle my distraught, and stood back up. I continued my trek away from the village and decided to make my way back to the larger town I had been to in the south. If I could get information on the whereabouts of my comrades, there would be a good place to start.