Bloody Austerians...

Anveil sat in the corner of his cell, staring at the wood-plank floor. The cell shook with each rut they passed over. He had been captured on a guerrila raid from Eurus, and was now being held until a quick trial could be had and executions could be held. He sat and pondered his fate. He was, after all, only a soldier. One could not expect more of such a life. The prison cart rumbled on; the Auster stronghold looming ever larger on the horizon.

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(If you wish, you may imagine this to be a narrarator's voice superimposed over the previous and following events. This is merely background, filling in some holes and allowing for some actual RPing from you, the others. At least, that's how it is in my head.)

Ever since the Factions had formed, there really was no safe place in Rus. It all started with an assassination. The leader of Rus was defenestrated by a rogue group of extremists who wanted anarchy. They were, for the most part, successful.

The leader had four generals equally under him, and, since he passed away without any children, they all thought themselves the rightful ruler of Rus. Thus, the kingdom was divided into clans, one for each general: the clan of Aquilo in the north; Auster in the south; Eurus in the east; and Favonius in the west. For the past fifteen years, these factions have been at war with each other, with no end to the violence in sight.

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The cart jarred and convulsed, continuing towards the Auster stronghold. Anveil looked up slightly, again scanning the interior of his prison. The cart proceeded to roll over a rather large rut, further loosening the rather shabbily constructed top hinge of the door. He'd been watching it for nearly an hour now, as each rut made it progressively closer to falling off. Then, without much ado, the pin of the hinge fell out. Anveil reacted instantly, having premeditated what he was going to do while waiting for the pin to fall.

He caught the pin and continued to reach through the top of the door, now helpfully loose. Pulling himself through the opening at the top of the door, he reached up and grabbed the ankle of one of the two archers on the roof of the prison cart and pulled him off. As he fell past Anveil, he (Anveil) grabbed the longbow from the flailing grasp of the archer, who hit the ground and rolled, disappearing quickly behind the cart. As the other archer came around to see what the heck had happened to his partner, Anveil reached up with the bow, looped it around his neck, and pulled him down to join his partner. Anveil then hoisted himself up and grabbed one of the abandoned quivers, then jumped off as the cart slowed down to turn. He was now free in the foothills of Auster.

Anveil gathered himself after the jump, and began walking east towards the mountains--and the Eurus border.

Lost. Again.
If freelancing your way across the county wasn't hard enough, especially due to new order, try freelancing as a mage while attempting to hide from the authorities. It wasn't as easy as it sounded.
Cloaked in heavy black and red tattered garbs, hat pulled over his face, Marcel winced every time he put his right leg on the ground, bandages could only do so much as the wound of a sword bled through the white cotton. He lent on his staff as he followed the path that seemed to twist and turn with every meter he pursued onward.

Pausing for a breath, it was all but luck that he actually heard the cart and horses galloping closer towards him. He pulled his hat lower as the cart came closer, with nowhere to run, he switched his staff to his other hand and straightened up as he began to slowly walk, pretending not to care. The dust lifted from the dry path as the carriage flew past him, choking, blinding, he wished to salute the driver two fingers but he was already in enough trouble as it was. One thing he noted of the cart as the dust settled was that it's door was missing, if it had cargo before it was now lost.

When the word "cargo" came to mind it meant one of two things, supplies or people. It didn't seem the the kind to carry food, thus meaning people. People meant help, it also meant directions and/or companions to travel and to get into trouble with, but mostly it meant protection. Marcel, though heavy garbed enough to make him look bigger and a well practiced magic user, was of frail stature and young of mind, plus with the effects of his last encounter with the local guard stinging in his calf, he was willing to belittle himself to receiving help from others.

He hurried along a little quicker, hoping that they hadn't already gone...

Hander Von Chevalier sat, nestled into the underbrush of a large oak, twirling a short sword between his thumb and forefinger. Wrapped in a green cloak and a few travelling garments, he thought vaguely about the past few days before pushing the thoughts out of his head.

The oak itself was rumoured to be the biggest in Rus - located in the southeast of Auster, many tales were told of its size - yet no one today was around. Infact, looking out of the grasslands, Hander could not see a single soul anywhere around.

Its nice here... he thought to himself. Peaceful... I can't help but wonder if... he was halfway through the fort when he shook his head thoroughly, as if in hope that the memories would fall out his ears, spill onto the ground and forever begone from the dark recesses of his mind.

He let the swortshord drop, and the blade landed soundlessly on the grasslands. The wind blew almost rythmically, the grass flattening and rising. Hander stared at the blade for a long time - he didnt know how long, it could have only been a few seconds, it might have been hours - it felt long, and that was really all that mattered. His brown eyes were unmoving - staring at the sword, but not really seeing it, if you can understand that.

Yes... she would have. He finished the thought, and gulped, waking up suddenly from his peaceful reverie. His eyes swept around the surrounding grasslands again, and spotted only one change. On the distance, heading Northeast to the Eurus border, was a lone figure. Grasping his blade, sheathing it, and standing up suddenly in one complex yet simoultaneous movement, he brushed his brown hair out of his eyes and cupped his hand over his forehead to serve as a makeshift visor in protection from the suddenly bright sun.

A man - definetly. But he couldn't tell much more. A bow slung over his back, or possibly a thin, curved sword. Hander grinned, and started walking calmly towards the man. He had a good feeling about this.

Jel'nar bent over and took a sip of his soup. He turned his head away, in disgust. "Going to have to cross Ants off my 'soup' list." He stated to no one in particular. He leaned back onto the rock in behind him and looked out as the sun began to set.

"The sunsets here on the western side are really quite something." He mused. As the sun went down, it gradually turned from a bright pinkish red and gradually became orange and then, it went straight down into the cleft mountain of the far western range. the light then went up in a straight orange pillar of light. As the pillar went up, he could see two shadowy figures on the foothills. one appeared to be trying to sneak up on the other.

"my my, is it that time already! I must be getting into town." The pillar only happens once every 3 years, and it was Jel'nars signal to himself it was time to head into town to pick up latest news, get some food and bandages. "I do hope those two young men were alright. not that the first one would ever be snuck up on." Jel'nar let out a bark of laughter "his form was hideous, you could see him a mile away."

"come along now tort, we must get packed for tomorrow." He patted his massive tortoise on the head and they both headed into the little shack that was Jel'nar's home.

Talyn settled back against the bole of the tree and grunted sourly as the Prison Wagon rumbled past, shaking his head in commiseration. "Sorry mate, hard luck on ye." he muttered as he extracted a small loaf of brown bread and a half-eaten wheel of cheese from a leather scrip on the ground beside him. "One more poor sod off to the gaol...but mayhap you'll be taking my place." A smirk lit his fine-boned features and he shifted on the moss beneath him as he tucked into his lunch, taking the occasional drink from a wineskin and humming tunelessly as the sun descended to the horizon.

The rocks had shifted in the storm, Kranek leaped across the loose stones to the end of a spar the jutted out from the roof of the Temple. He unfolded his spyglass, looked through, and sighed.

"The Favonian army still surrounds Eurus Castle Father Negit," Kranek called to the old monk. "Should we send aid to the general?"

"We shall Brother, take 20 monks of your choosing and go to the aid of Benneth of Eurus, show them that their kindness to the Temple of Roses has not been forgotten." With that Negit turned to enter his quarters.

Jel'nar stretched and got off of the leafy mat he called a bed. He stretched, and heard his old bones crack and pop after being stiff all night "I really am getting too old for this hermitage thing. It's gonna be a long hike over the mountains." too bad there were'nt any towns for many more miles to the west than to the east.

He Walked out of his shack, and found tort sleeping by the embers "Hey now buddy, time to get up" He said to tort. The giant tortoise's head rose slowly, and he made one of those deep rumling noises. "don't worry, your bat soup is coming." He soothed.

After the soup, jel'nar rose and started getting ready for the long hike he had ahead of him. He strapped a hatchet to his belt, two dirks to the strap running across his chest, and a short sword to the other side of his belt. He put his battle axe on his back, donned his long flowing grey robe with a hood concealing his face on, put hit blowdart tube up his sleeve and his pouch of poisoned blowdarts in a sack next to the hatchet. Then he put 3 throwing knives in his right boot, and put 4 parts of a connectable spear strapped to his left leg. He then slid a long wicked looking knife up the sleeve opposite to the one with the blowdarts. and just in case, he checked to see he still had that small knife hidden between his shoulder blades.

"If I werent in such pristine condition, I wouldnt be able to carry all this. ah, the few downsides of being a weapons master."

He patted Tort on the head, and told him to guard the house while he was gone. He could still remember when He found Tort, just a baby who could fit into the palm of Jel'nar's hand. He had been drowning in a swamp, and Jel'nar always wondered how he had gotten there. He had trained the little guy (who now went up to Jel'nar's waist) to be a guard. Not that there was much worth guarding here, Jel'nar mused.

He put on the backpack with rations and a bed strapped on top, then looked at the one with a tent in it. I can sleep under the stars... not like its going to rain or anything. He put out food for 5 days out. Tort had been trained to only eat twice a day, and no more than two portions. it really was incredible the extent of training these things could have.

Strain and blood loss had gotten the better of Marcel, the mage was now slipping between delusion and reality, straying from the original path and had gone further into the wilderness. By the time he had gotten a grip on where he was it was too late, he had lost track of the dropped "Cargo". Perhaps it was for the best.

The weathered staff now supported the majority of his weight, his robes dragged along the ground. As he looked up for one final time he spotted a blur of two shadowed figures, a man of some kind and a moving rock, although he originally dismissed it as a hallucination it certainly seemed to be something alive, hallucinations didn't make footsteps or noises, did they?

"Excuse me!" The young mage made out to the shadows before collapsing on the ground.

Hander was walking towards the figure on the Horizon when he faintly heard Marcel's call from over the hill. His ears picking up the direction from whence it came, he quickly ran up a hill and spotted to mage passed out on the grassy ground. He picked up his speed and ran straight for the fallen mage.

Hander soon reached him and bent down to quickly examine the unconcious man. He immeadiately spotted the bandage around his leg, sighed, and tore it off. Reaching into a pouch on his belt he pulled out a small object and shoved it deep into the wound, Marcel letting out a small groan.

Hander held the wound closed with his hands for about five minutes, then wiped away the blood and wrapped a new bandage around it. With a last check to make sure nothing else was amiss with his patient, Hander gave Marcel a poke in the face with another object from his pouch.

Marcel stirred, leaning up on one elbow groggily.

"Does it hurt when I do this?" asked Hander, poking Marcel's wounded leg with the pommel of his shortsword.

Talyn stopped chewing his bread for a moment and cocked his head in a listening gesture. Had he heard a noise from up the road? A moment later he heard another startled yelp and a thud followed by silence. Frowning the slender fellow slipped the remaining bit of cheese into his pocket, took a final swig of wine from the skin before plugging it, and tucked it into the scrip on the ground beside him.

"I have the distinct impression that I am going to regret this..." he muttered softly as he slung the scrip over his shoulder and grabbed the gnarled quarterstaff from where it had been leaning on the bole of the tree. "One of these days I expect I'll learn to mind my own affairs...but it doesn't look like that day will be this one."

Slipping quietly through the trees parallel to the road he soon found two guardsmen in livery lying in the road, both unconscious. Frowning Talyn eyed the pair and chewed his lip meditatively. Where would they have come from? A grin crossed his face and he shook his head. "Well, looks like the gaoler is going to be having an empty cell this night. Bravo to ye, my friend..." Taking a quick look about for signs of life Talyn scurried out into the road and began searching the guards for valuables while asking "Ere, mate...are you feeling okay? Had a nasty fall, did ye?"

Tecenil moved next to Kranek as they walked up the road to Eurus. "Kranek, are you certain it was wise to leave those men alive? What if they tell someone?"

Kranek stopped, stared at the young man, no more than a boy really. "Are you suggesting we go against the order, kill two innocent men, and risk eternal damnation just because you fear them?" The monk laughed, "who would they tell? Who would beleve them? The Monks of Roses have not left the Temple for more than a millenium, which is no doubt why we haven't been drawn into this conflict until now."

Marcel stirred, leaning up on one elbow groggily.

"Does it hurt when I do this?" asked Hander, poking Marcel's wounded leg with the pommel of his shortsword.

"Ahh! Yes! Yes it dose!" Marcel responded brashly, wincing from the pain. He opened his eyes and quickly surveyed the surrounding area, now more clearly.

Still lost.

His eyes then turned to the person before him. Marcel couldn't make out defining features of the man, but with the amount of equipment strapped to him and the green cloak, this person was possibly a ranger. The wound on his leg had been cleaned and re-bandaged, properly, and after aggravation it seemed to hurt less.

"Sorry. I thank you for your aid. My name is Marcel, who might you be?"

"Sorry. I thank you for your aid. My name is Marcel, who might you be?"

"Hander Von Chevalier, at your service. Healer and Master Thi-... Er, Swordsman." Hander told the fastly recovering Marcel, and sheathed his sword. "That wound should heal pretty quickly. No need of payment, I've got plenty of those rocks around."

He reached into his backpack and plucked out an apple. "Should help the healing process to eat some fruit. Don't stress, it isnt poisoned."

Hander stared at Marcel for a brief moment. "Might I ask how you sustained that wound?" he asked, then bit into an apple of his own.

"Hander Von Chevalier, at your service. Healer and Master Thi-... Er, Swordsman."

Stalled...something to hide? best to leave it for now...

Hander stared at Marcel for a brief moment. "Might I ask how you sustained that wound?" he asked, then bit into an apple of his own.

"Err..." Marcel Stalled. For all he knew he could be one of those "virtuous" people looking for a spot of good living off the price of his head, which was rather sizable considering what he had done in the first place. He gripped the staff a little more and pulled it closer towards him. By the look of it, he'd be staying with this Hander Von Chevalier for quite a while, until he was ready to try again on heading north.

"It's rather silly really, I was walking through the forest, not looking where I was going, when I tripped on a tree root (of all things), rolled down a hill and stabbed myself on a particularly sharp rock. I seem to have gotten lost along the way, could you tell me where exactly I am?"

Liar He thought to himself. If this person is as skilled as I think he is he won't buy it...lets hope.

Marcel didn't hear the small patrol of five guards heading in his direction, searching for him.

It had started pouring sometime in the afternoon. "Sleep under the stars, Jel'nar. It won't rain" He muttered to himself, apparently oblivious it was himself who had decided to do that. "Aw darn it all. I'm headin back to camp, the mattress is ruined anyway." and it was true, his woven mattress had just fallen apart in the rain. As he started to head West, the rain began to slacken, and after several hours it was gone altogether. He turned back and looked to the East, and saw the huge rain cloud covering a large portion of the land to the East.

"Maybe the westerners can offer me food and bandages. and me hatchet needs a bit o' sharpenin' too. maybe I could use a grindstone. Easier walk anyways." He arrived back at camp, and Tort came waddling up to meet him "hey Tort. No, I'm not staying here. I just decided to go to the a Western town. You be good." He grabbed one of his mattresses and set off to the West, with the wind blowing against his face.

The Storm raged on, as the monks set about preparing camp, Kranek sent Tecenil and Keilia off to scout the area about them, they had left with minimal provisions, the monks first week of schooling at the temple had been how to survive in the wild and even the most naieve of them was the equal of any ranger in the area.

The squad leader had not chosen the naive among the monks. Each hondpicked warrior had undergone his or her own rite of passage, a ritual in which the tested acolyte was thrust into the wilderness for more than a year, if said pupil had any voluntary contact with civilization in that time, they would be removed from the Order.

His followers had all passed their respective tests, but this, this storm was something else...

Jel'nar had reached a road, running north to south. "well now. Which way to a town... ah well. Nothing better than spinning a knife." He reached into his cloak, and spun the dirk. It stopped, pointing in a relatively southern direction. "Ah well, south it is!" he said, sheathing the weapon.

He set off at a lively trot, Heading south. soon he could see a group of people, 6 or so. hmm.. maybe one of them can give me directions As he drew closer, he could see that there were actually 7 people and one of them was on the ground and the other one was holding off five of them, just barely. "bandits" Jel'nar cursed under his breath. He HATED bandits.

Jel'nar sprinted at them, shedding his pack as he went. He drew a throwing knife, and threw it skillfully into one of the mens necks. The man went down without a sound, and the other four didnt notice his sudden death. He drew his dirks and thrust them into two more of the mens necks. By then he had been noticed, and the second to last one turned around and attacked him with a sword "ah finally, a fair fight."

Jel'nar cooly said as he drew his hatchet and sword. He weilded them with skill, but the other man was a master of the longsword he wielded. The other man who had been holding off all five of them, was suddenly able to retaliate now that there was only one left. Jel'nar allowed his sword to be disarmed, dodged a swipe at his head, and fell into a tumble. he came out of his tumble, and grabbed his dirk from one of the other bandits necks he came up, and swiped at the other man's leg [i]They're awfully skillful for bandits...[i] The man fell into a kneel, and swiped at jelnars legs. Jel'nar hopped back, and threw his hatchet, right at the man's chest. "Not fair" the man managed to mumble before collapsing into his last sleep. "I'm a weapon master." Jel'nar said as he grabbed his hatchet and cleaned it off. "We're not known for fighting fair."

"They're also not known for being so uncautious," Kranek whispered into Jel'Nar's ear, pressing a kukri into his back, "I thank you for assisting my comrades, but we really can't afford to have you run off spreading news of our presence."

Tecenil and Keilia moved in front of the master and Kranek signaled to the other monks, and they stepped into view. "Now then, I'll be having your weapons, I'd rather not kill you, so you'll have to remain with us, for the time being."

Keilia collected the man's weapons, the silent monk offered a rare smile as she walked away.

"Now then, I'll be having your weapons, I'd rather not kill you, so you'll have to remain with us, for the time being."

Keilia collected the man's weapons, the silent monk offered a rare smile as she walked away.


"You Forgot the spear on my leg." Jel'nar said as he detached the parts and set them on the ground "And may I go get my pack? I would hate to be a hindrance to you, and you seem like your in a hurry. I have food and bedding in there, so I would waste none of yours. Say, would you also like to take the chainmail under my shirt, or is that ok for me to have?"

"So long as you remember who you're with and that any of us could kill you with barely an effort the shirt can stay, though you will wear this," Kranek motioned to a large monk carrying a heavy set of shackles. "And I'll be keeping a personal watch over you, no funny business, we're on a rather urgent mission."

With that, the group left the path, with a new member in tow.

"Can I ask questions? I Just want to know whats going on in the world these days. I havent seen the world other than a bit of uninhabited mountain for the last three years. I dont need to know anything about your group, though that would be nice. no offense, but you dont exactly seem the type for niceness, unfortunately.

"If this were a different time and a different place you would not think that, friend," Kranek grinned, "We are Monks of Roses, traveling to aid King Renex of Eurus, the country has fallen into chaos during the war, and we go to restore order, it is the first time a group of monks has left the Temple in more than a millenium.

"We would still not have left now but for the King's relationship with the deceased Mother Quireon, their love created a bond between Eurus and the Rose Temple," Kranek turned to the warrior, "And what is your story? Why have you left the mountains?"

"A war? eurus? what happened to plain old rus? Ah, but I am sorry. I have not answered you're question. I am Jel'nar, at your service" He attempted a bow in the shackles and ended up stumbling "I was the master of the armoury for the old leader of Rus, and a good friend. I left for hermitage 8 years ago and come out every three years for supplies and general needs. (I only stayed in the mountains 2 years the first segment). I have been out of contact with all human life for 3 years now. I fear I cannot stay in your company long, as Tort will be forced to eat the plants around my house if I leave him for over 5 days. I'm sure he'll be able to survive, probably." Jel'nar shook his head.

"I'm afraid I cannot allow you to leave, but if you would give us the location of your quarters, I assure you your friend will be well taken care of." Kranek summoned one of his monks to deliver a message to the Temple, then turned back to Jel'nar.

"The storm is becoming too strong, we will make camp here," The monk said, indicating a cave, you will have to remain guarded, though I suppose the shackles can be removed." Kranek summoned the Large monk again, "Icth, remove this man's shackles, then the two of you and Keilia will take first watch."

"good. that fight really was quite draining, and those shackles weren't exactly comfortable." Jel'nar massaged his wrists, and stretched them out. He allowed himself to be led into the cave, and found a nice comfy nook. He took his woven rush mat out, and laid it on the floor. He then took a small bit of bat meat out to eat. He offered some to the monk guarding him, but it was refused. He ate it, and then laid himself on the ground to sleep.

Jel'nar was roused by a splash of was over his head, "Kranek say... we three... First watch." Icth scolded.

"Icth has a bit of a speech impediment, but he is right, I did ask you to take the first watch." Kranek handed the soaking warrior a cloth to dry off. "I did have to lose one of my men to tend to your pet, as long as you travel with us you will perform the same duties, it is a three day journey to Eurus, today you have first watch, tomorrow, no watch and the day after, last watch, Icth and Keilia will be with you both days to make sure you don't wander off." Kranek chuckled, "Keilia asked specifically for you, consider yourself lucky, she doesn't take to strangers often."

Keilia looked over Kranek's shoulder and giggled. Kranek turned and grinned at her. "Be nice now." He bowed and left.

"Ah yes, I must have missed that. Can I have a weapon in case anything needs guarding or we're attacked or something like that? maybe just a dirk. Or three parts of my spear, that would make a staff with no point?"

"Kranek say... Icth hold... small man sword." Icth held up Jel'nar's sword, and Keilia drew in the dirt If something does come Icth will give you your sword, however, we cannot take any chances. Sorry.

"Great..." Jel'nar sat and Keilia giggled once more as she danced away.

"You think... Keilia pretty?" Icth asked with a grin.

"Wait, I think I heard something!" Jel'nar said, blushing.

The two monks giggled.

As Kranek came to relieve the three monks of the watch duty, he noticed Keilia staring intently at Jel'nar. Sneaking up behind her he whispered in her ear "See something interesting?"

Keilia leaped into the air, then turned to Kranek, blushing. "It won't interfere with the operation Brother," she said in a barely audible whisper.

"I know it won't, and I'm happy for you, but now is not the time for that, now is time for sleep." The monk bowed, and walked over to the master.

"You two should go to sleep, Tecenil and I will take over." He told the warriors.

As Jel'nar settled down for sleep, he couldn't manage to get comfortable. Once he did, He fell into a deep sleep, and soon began to have dreams. Jel'nar dreamed He was running, running to get away from someone, but his legs were in mud. He sank down through the mud, and was falling, falling down. He landed comfortably, in an ocean of blood. He began to swim, but tentacles came out and dragged Him under the water. When he hit the bottom, a hole opened up under him, and a deep, booming voice spoke to him "remember... remember your promise" and everything went black.

Daybreak, the monks were all awake, the storm had passed and the camp was packed. Kranek walked over to the sleeping masters mat, and flipped it, spilling the warrior onto the ground. "Its sunrise, time to move, the bandits likely found our friends from last night."

Keilia walked over to Kranek, and whispered into his ear, Kranek nodded and Keilia left after flashing a smile at Jel'nar.

"We have to go, the bandits are almost upon us, and they number more than fivescore.

"We have to go, the bandits are almost upon us, and they number more than fivescore."

"Oh jeez. Am I going to have to be shackled again, or in the idea of haste will we not be doing that?" Jel'nar stretched quickly, and quickly rolled up his rush mattress and put it on his pack. "I'm ready to go. how about you guy—" Jel'nar stopped abruptly when he realized they were all waiting for him at the mouth of the cave

"You wont be shackled this time, we have to make haste, Icth will carry you on his back." Kranek chuckled as the massive monk lifted the smaller man onto his back, and the group set off at a dead run...

"Hey! Carrying 8 weapons all day long doesnt exactly make me a lightweight! I can walk!" Jel'nar complained "it'd probably be faster that way anyway."

"Doubtful, unless you've trained at the Temple, Icth can handle it, can't you big guy?" Kranek looked to the large monk, who nodded vigorously, and took off at a pace that more than matched the rest of the monks.

Keilia giggled, and took off after the pair. Kranek just shook his head, Picked up his pack, and followed.

They had made a sharp left turn about halfway through the run. Soon they came in sight of a ransacked and burned looking castle. Kranek told Icth to let Jel'nar down, and he stretched. Kranek told all the monks that this was where they would be making camp, and tomorrow they would follow The Favonian army.

Kranek took first watch this night, as he sat near the fire, he became aware of a presence next to him, he turned to find Keilia next to him.

"Returning the favor?" he asked with a laugh, Keilia smiled and nodded. "It's good to finally see you happy, after what happened, well the entire Order worried about you."

Keilia's smile disappeared, she looked into Kranek's face, and collapsed into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably...

Jel'nar was awakened by the sound of crying. He walked over to the fire, and saw Keilia sobbing in the arms of Kranek. He reached over, and put his hand on her shoulder. "are you all right?" He asked softly. She looked up, and a horrified look crossed her face. Kranek turned to him and said "Don't worry, she'll be fine"

Keilia dashed off, still sobbing. Kranek motioned for Jel'nar to sit next to him. "If you don't mind staying up to listen to my story, If you care enough about Keilia to understand her pain."

"Of course," the master replied as he moved to the log.

"Keilia, my sister, had a rather traumatic experience, it caused her to spiral into such a deep depression that the entire Order feared for her safety. We did not spend our entire lives at the Temple as most other monks had, we lived in Ravena, the small town just east of what at the time was Rus. If you know Rus's history, you know of the raid on Ravena, how the guard made it there too late, the town was burned to the ground."

"Yes, but that was nearly seventeen years ago, that can't be what happened to her."

"That's true enough, Keilia was but seven years old at the time, and I was a mere boy of ten, our Family survived the raid, but the bandits found us in our flight to the Temple, they murdered our father in cold blood, while he slept. Our mother, they did things to our mother I don't wish to repeat, all while we watched in fear from the bushes.

"We fled, ran for days with seemingly no end in sight, then one day the bandits caught up to us. They were preparing to cut my throat when Master Negit appeared. He defeated the evil men and took us to the temple.

"As we became accustomed to the Temple ways Keilia met a young boy, only a year older than herself. As the years passed they fell in love. But then it became time for the Rite. The rite of passage is absolutely necessary to advance in the temple, you are cast into the wild for a year, monitored by high level monks. If you have any contact with civilization in that time, you are cast from the order, you carry nothing with you and you must be completely self-sufficient.

"Knowing the bond my sister shared with this young man, I convinced Father Negit to allow them to conduct their Rite together, it was a terrible mistake I soon learned. The two encountered a band of savages, they brutally tortured and murdered Yenrew, and raped Keilia before leaving her on the icy mountainside to die.

"Keilia returned to the Temple of Roses a changed woman as you could imagine, she refused any food or drink, remained removed from the others, and refused to speak to anyone, this continued for three years. Then two summers ago, she came to me, told me her story in a hushed whisper. As far as I know, she has only spoken to me since."

Jel'nar sat back, stunned "how can anyone go through such an experience, and survive with their mind intact!" He whispered. I was a general in the kings army, I fought in the battle of chain low, I have seen my friends and comrades fall next to me, with me unable to save them. Yet how could someone see their parents murdered at the age of seven!" his teeth began to chatter, and he was shivering. He stood up "I should go comfort her."

Kranek grabbed the warrior, "The last thing she needs right now is you." He said, "she needs to be alone right now, and I'm not sure she would appreciate you knowing all that when Father Negit and I are the only other people who know her entire story."

"It's rather silly really, I was walking through the forest, not looking where I was going, when I tripped on a tree root (of all things), rolled down a hill and stabbed myself on a particularly sharp rock. I seem to have gotten lost along the way, could you tell me where exactly I am?"


Hander eyed Marcel for a moment. "Hmm. Must have been a bad fall." He said in a dry, unbelieving tone. "You're in North Eastern Auster, near the Great Oak Tree," he explained, gesturing towards where he had come from. The town of Larahl is a few leagues south of here, the Eurus border a half-league to the east."

"The town of Larahl is a few leagues south of here, the Eurus border a half-league to the east."

I guess that's a start... he though, thinking on his next move. He needed to get north, north was safe, mostly because nobody knew him there. He had already heard about Larahl, the guards would have put up wanted signs already. He wasn't about to let his new ally find out about his misdeeds back in the main city. He began to slowly get up on his two feet.

"Actually, I'm hoping to head north. I was wo-

Cut short my a flying arrow, narrowly missing his face.

"Get the mage! Don't let him cast any spells!" the lieutenant guard shouted to the four other troops

Cursing under his breath, Marcel built up his mana and shot a fireball towards them, only managing to hit one while narrowly missing another. His mana was now drained and had to wait a while longer before he could fight, now relying on his new companion...

"she needs to be alone right now, and I'm not sure she would appreciate you knowing all that when Father Negit and I are the only other people who know her entire story."

"I shall retire to my bed again then. Oh, and by the way. Tell Keilia I do not look down on her for crying. After losing a friend in battle, I would cry myself to sleep in their memory for many a night." Jel'nar retired to his rush mat, and began another night of fitful dreaming.

He was in the arms of two men. they were dragging him up a snowy hill. they dropped him there, and he froze. suddenly, there was roaring and he was covered in snow. the snow melted to darkness, and he fell, and fell. then there was a burning pain in his legs! red hot knives were being driven into his legs! they popped out, and turned into scrolls. one of them had a map, the other one was covered in writing, and spattered with tears. He read it, and began to cry himself. the tears turned into blood, and each drop of blood that fell on the paper was animated into a little demon that attacked him. they tied him to a chair, and threw him off of a cliff, still crying. all the blood he cried as he fell froze into a little ball, and men used carved them into arrowheads as they shot at him tied to a post. "Will you keep your promise, oath-breaker!" the voice came again.

"WEAPONS MASTER!" Kranek yelled as he rushed to the mat, he grabbed the warrior and threw him back, Icth dumped water on him and the man woke up screaming.

"Jel'nar, what is going on, you were tossing in your sleep, screaming about an oath you had broken, you nearly rolled into the fire. Tell me what's going on." Kranek crouched in front of the man, looked into his eyes, while Icth searched his body for injuries.

Jel'nar sighed, "I guess you should know what sort of man I am..."

"Jel'nar, what is going on, you were tossing in your sleep, screaming about an oath you had broken, you nearly rolled into the fire. Tell me what's going on." Kranek crouched in front of the man, looked into his eyes, while Icth searched his body for injuries.

Jel'nar sighed, "I guess you should know what sort of man I am. When I was 14, I traveled to the far northeastern lands of kantar. There I was joined into the clan of their high chieftan. I had to swear an oath to always protect their country as well as several other things, such as testing my seamanship etc. That was, in fact, where I learned my skills in weapons, as before I had my career made in espionage."

I was actually there as a spy for the ravena's. I had gone there as a diplomatic mission for the leader so he could make a peace treaty with them, and maybe buy some of their land. So I had to gain the trust of the kantars, as they were the ravenas sworn enemy. I was to gain their trust, then when the ravena's attacked, I was to sabotage their defenses and assasinate their cheiftan and they would be defenseless."

It worked perfectly. when the ravena's attacked, they conquered them easily. I went back to their leader, and told him what had happened when I got to the part where I swore the oath, He became outraged! you see, the ravenas hold oaths extremely sacred, almost to the point of holiness. I was taken to a dungeon, and tortured for many days. It was not physical, it was purely mental. The worst was just being tied up with no food or water while they dripped water on forehead. the only physical damage they inflicted was this." Jel'nar pulled down the left side of his shirt, exposing a long scar running from shoulder to hip, right along his side.

"they took a knife, and slowly cut it down. when they were done, they pulled the flesh apart. it was horrible. I barely survived with my mind intact. I managed to escape during the water torture, however. though after they cut me, they were just dripping salt water into the wound." he gave a short, bitter laugh. "I found a weakness in the chain, and broke out. I escaped, just barely. I had to kill three guards and two innocents who were threatening to alert the guards. When I got back to the king, I told them their answer was 'no' I then meditated for nearly a year, repairing my damaged and fragile mind."

Once I was done, I came back to the king, and offered my services as a weapon master, a trait scarcely found then, and even scarcer now I helped wipe out the kantars." He sighed. "Now you know my story. other than that, I served in the army and was promoted to general soon after enlisting. When I turned 20, I retired from the army and served as the official armoury master. two years later, I retired to hermitage."

"It is a terrible thing the struggle for power that the tortures the world," Kranek clapped Jel'nar on the shoulder, "I am truly sorry for the life the fates have given you."

Icth looked up from his work, "Jal-man not hurt Brother."

"Well, I suppose we have at least that to be thankful for, after our mission, you should return with us to the temple, we have the finest healers in the world." Kranek indicated the master's scar, "The mental pain you must overcome yourself, but at the very least allow your friends to remove one scar from your past."

Cursing under his breath, Marcel built up his mana and shot a fireball towards them, only managing to hit one while narrowly missing another. His mana was now drained and had to wait a while longer before he could fight, now relying on his new companion...

"I guess the rest will be up to me, then, friend? Nasty job you did with that fireball. That guy's not going to make it to the dance," Hander commented, an expression of disgust curling across his face. "Lets do this thing."

Hander rushed at the nearby enemies, drawing a pair of shortswords as he charged. The guards loosed for arrows as he neared them, but Hander ducked, somersalting(sp?) the last few feet of his charge as the arrows buried themselves harmlessly into the grassy ground with a solid thunk. On his way up, he grabbed the leg of a guard, flipping the heavy-armoured man onto his face, his leg breaking with a sickening crunch.

The three guards still on there feet attacked him at once, but he managed to parry of all three blows before delivering a spinning kick to the guard lieutenant's face. The Lieutenant stumbled backwards, momentarily disabled. The other two guards struck at him again from his left and right, Hander barely parrying them with his paired shortswords. He proceeded to engage in two simoultaneous swordfights, parrying, blocking and striking blows with both guards. When he saw the lieutenant struggle to his feet, he flicked his wrists and brought them down in strong downhanded attacks to dispatch both guards.

Both men slunk dead of his swords, and he was about to go after the lieutenant when he felt a stabbing pain in his heel. He turned around to see that the word 'stabbing' was correct - the guard he had uprooted's blade was inches deep in his heel. Suddenly feeling woozy, Hander collapsed to the ground.

Now fighting from his back, Hander fended off the lieutenants attacks with his blades. Seeing an open, Hander kicked him with his working leg, and the Lieutenant toppled down directly onto his blade. The remaining guard's morale snapped, and he was limping away, no doubt painful on his broken leg.

"Quick, Marcel!" Hander yelled, kicking the dead Lieutenant's body off his blade. "We need to capture him for information!"

"Quick, Marcel!" Hander yelled, kicking the dead Lieutenant's body off his blade. "We need to capture him for information!"

Slightly rested, but not enough to cast anything of good force, Marcel had propped himself by the tree with the arrow in it for most of the battle. As he looked up he saw the final guard run past him, he hoped he would be able to pull one last move off.
Marcel pivoted around to face the guards direction, grabbed a good footing, and with a small help from recalled energy, tossed the staff at the guard, aiming for his head.

today was a lucky day for Marcel. The staff struck straight and true at the back of his skull, bringing the guard down. Marcel praised his good fortunes, and hobbled over to the unconscious guard.

The mage picked up his staff and looked down to the man, laying there, breathing. A shudder ran down his spine as words echoed in his mind

"We need to capture him for information!"

The guard sputtered and coughed with a face full of grass and dirt.
"Filthy mage. Filthy thief! Do you have any idea as to what you stole!?"

The staff itched in Marcel's hands. He raised it above his head, the large crystal orb at the highest point, preparing for a final blow to the mans skull.
"Yes...and it's not yours..."