This RP is officially closed [Mira Ravenheart] doesn't have enough time or patience to keep it up and running.
It might start again at a later date.
The dark-haired and travel-stained young woman reached the forest floor a heartbeat before the fiery-haired half-elf that walked beside her. Her only response to his bleak comment had been a quirk of her lips and the quickening of her pace. A sense of urgency had slowly seeped into her mind, teasing at the corners of her consciousness. She didn’t know what it was, but the closer she had come to reaching the forest floor, the more the feeling - that was not quite fear but a… warning – blossomed in her breast.
Rynsana’s amber eyes came to rest on the motionless and cloaked figure that rode behind the Lord Archaeon. The distrusting sensation deepened and, unconsciously, she reached up to touch the amulet at her neck. She gasped silently, eyes still fixed on the figure. Though she still could not see their face, she knew that – whoever they were – they were returning the scrutiny.
Straightening her shoulders defiantly, Ryn raised her voice to address Archaeon. "My Lord, I am sorry to interrupt your conversation with the Lady," she was referring to Tari, with whom he had exchanged veiled meanings but who's words said only that the Lord and his following would also be going to Lathiron for the Queen’s Funeral. "But we need to put many yards behind us, should we wish to reach Lathiron by nightfall on the morrow."
Archaeon, though loathe to break council with Tari, nodded his agreement. Vannen quickly put in that he would fetch those who had not yet descended from the Inn and that Rynsana should find Thyran since he had wandered off … "again".
Rynsana grinned crookedly at Vannen but nodded, "I will go to him, but I don’t know how long he’ll be..."
Vannen rolled his almond-shaped blue eyes. "Try to make it quick." Her added before climbing the staircase, taking the stairs two at a time.
Rynsana’s crooked grin soon dissolved into a grateful smile. Before she could head off, the Inn Keeper Jared appeared leading their horses. They were all tacked up and ready to ride. "Ride safely, my Lady." He said quietly, patting her shoulder before withdrawing to exchange words with Lord Archaeon.
A ways into the forest:
As the body settled finally Thyran threw his arms out to his sides, "TYRIS!" With a deafening crack rock split underground from heat and turned to molten and settled over the body encasing it in a stone sarcophogis. The surface was as smooth as polished marble and as cold and gray as steel. Thyran bent down and traced the symbol of a flame on the stone and it heated and melted creating an engraving in the surface. Then he traced the outline of a shield around the flame. "Rest well worthy adversary," he said patting the stone. "It should have been I that killed you. Not some damn medallion," he said with a growl. Not just any medallion you fool
He thought bitterly admonishing himself for thinking it just a simple piece of jewelry. None of the others even bothered to come
He thought with disgust. Shows how much they cared for their 'comrade in arms', I held more respect for him than they did
he thought bitterly. Anger began to well up in his chest and it took all of his control to keep from setting the whole area afire. With a sigh he turned and began to walk back towards the inn and gave a whistle and Nightmare came trotting over to him nudging him slightly. "Yes my friend, we journey again. The Eye will be ours," he said the last part more to himself than to the horse.
Back in the clearing at the foot of the Ecalos Inn:
As the ear-splitting crack
resounded through the clearing, Rynsana's head snapped in the direction of the sound and her body tensed instinctively. A slight smile came to her lips when she realized what must have been the cause, and she shook her head, knowing that she should go see what Thyran had done.
Crossing the distance to Michael, she handed the reins of all the horses save the white mare that Thyran had given her. Those she held casually in one hand while stroking the mare's smooth neck with the other. "Hold them, Michael." She bade him, amber eyes catching and holding his briefly to emphasize that she meant for him to stay and needed his help. "We need to get out of here as soon as possible."
Rather distractedly, Rynsana glanced over her shoulder. "Excuse me," she murmured before mounting Yvienas and leaving Michael in possession of the other horses. She disappeared into the trees.
In the forest:
Yvienas' graceful gate carried Rynsana quickly to where Thyran walked with Nightmare. She glanced around him, leaning partially out of the saddle. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary enough to have caused such a sound. Settling back into the leather seat of her saddle, Rynsanna guided the mare to a halt and fixed Thyran with a questioning look. Then, rather suddenly, a frown creased her brow. "Where is Chance?"
"He is back there, buried properly as he should be," he said sweat still beading on his forhead. "As for the noise, I apologize, the stone tends to do that when you superheat it to make the sarcophogis for the body. I had forgotten about that part," he said with a slight smile. "I will need some time to don my armor, I do not trust that 'Lord' at all. And I would prefer to be battle ready when we faced again. If you would help me it would cut the time down to a few mere minutes," he said already wearing the grieves and gauntlets. His vestments still damp had clung to his body the way silk does when wet, not much was left to the imagination as to his physique beneath the cloth though it did not occur to Thyran that that was out of the ordinary. Modesty was not something he practiced, death was, and most of his garments were very thin because of the armor he wore and the element that he wielded.
The stone tends to do that when you superheat it to make the sarcophagus for the body,
Rynsana repeated mentally, thinking ruefully that she would have found that very strange only four days earlier. But her rueful thought was quickly sedated as a quiet sadness swept across her expressive features. For the first time, it truly hit her that Chance was dead. He had been kind to her when few people ever had, and he had saved her life when Thyran had very nearly killed her. For a moment, there was a softness to Rynsana’s face that Thyran had not seen before; her lips thoughtfully parted, her eyes slightly distant as she looked past him to where she knew Chance lay.
Thyran's last words drew her out of her brief reverie and her gaze returned to the man that stood before her. Amber eyes tinted with gold slid down his body, taking in his powerful physique. She knew he was a dangerous man but suddenly she wanted
to be trapped against his broad chest, encircled by his arms. Though she too, raised on a pirate ship as she was, was not overly conscious of modesty, she felt a subtle blush warming her cheeks. Quickly, she smoothed over her features and returned her thoughts to the matter at hand, lifting a hand to push a lock of dark hair out of her eyes. "I'll help you with your armour," she agreed, dismounting in one graceful movement, "It's here?".
Back in the clearing at the foot of the Ecalos Inn:
Michael took hold of the reins of the horses that was left for him and glanced around scanning his surroundings. He looked at each horse in distaste but held tight to the reins. He looked up the inn's stairs leading to the door in search for someone to give the horses to. For he didn't need a horse to travel because he loved to walk or run instead of using horse and depending on them and plus he hated the smell of their blood. He glanced around again hoping that someone would take them from him before he released them to run away from him.
In the forest
Thyran moved to his saddle bags, his steps measured and powerful like he had served in the army for years. His gait normally took on such a trait when he was feeling stubborn or was determined. He undid one bulging sack and began to pull the pieces out laying them upon the ground. When he finished he began to pull some of the more manageable pieces onto himself and looked up to Rynsana, "I do not like the Lord I will admit. Partly because I sense something akin to myself. Not that mind you, a memory of myself." He turned lifting up his arm holding the breastplate and backplate to himself. "Can you please secure the buckles on the sides there for me," he asked waiting for her to comply. "Why did you blush so when you saw me," he asked turning his head to her with a mischieveous smile and glint in his eyes. "Was it that pleasing to look at me," he added cocking his head to the side. He knew such a question would stagger Rynsana and catch her off guard, it was uncommon of him to ask such a thing. His mind reeled with the laughter in his head.
Rynsana had already closed the distance between them and she was buckling the armour plates as requested when his words caught her off guard. Her blush came back with a vengeance under the amused scrutiny of his regard, and her deft fingers fumbled briefly with the buckle she had been fastening.
"Something akin to yourself..?" She enquired evasively, trying not to look as flustered as she felt. Delicately-boned but calloused fingertips brushed his side as she finished off the buckles. He was warm through the damp silk, she noticed, and her touch may have lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary. Once done the task he'd asked of her, her hands fell way from his sides and she propped them on her hips. Almost indignantly, she lifted her chin and grinned up at him, head tilted and eyes alight. She saw the suppressed laughter in his eyes and had to suppress her own urge to cuff him over the head because of it. Instead, she responded earnestly. "I'm not going to deny it." Her amber eyes flicked back down over his body before returning to his michievous expression, arching one of her eyebrows at him. Then she tapped his breastplate, subconsciously avoiding the spikes. "What else do you need help with?"
A small chuckle rumbled deep in Thyran's broad chest at her comment and his eyes slightly widened before going back to their normal indifferent yet alert gaze. He was expecting something more from her, maybe a denial but he was glad none-the-less. "I think that I will be able to manage with the armor by myself, you are free to help me of course to speed the process up," he said shrugging as he slid a plate over his left thigh and began to pull the straps tight. His hands moved with the trained skill of a man that had done so many times avoiding each and every spike. "At least you are honest, and bold, that is good," he said looking her up and down in the armor that he had given her. He gave an approving shake of his head at how the armor contoured her body and his eyes lingered at her face then moved to his hammer on the ground. "You look... 'right'... in the armor," he said trying to find the correct words then sighed.
"He holds himself as a man that expects get what he wants and he doesn't care who he hurts to get it. I would level a city if a single man had decided that I was not worth a bow or if he left out 'lord' or 'sir' when addressing me. He has the same air about him. I feel that if we travel together him and his men will soon find themselves on the side of me they would rather not like to be on," he said with a dangerous look in his eyes telling Rynsana that he would kill them all without hesitation. "They mean little to me, if they hamper us it will be the last act they perform on this world," he said finishing up with the other thigh plate. His tone did not carry any contempt or anger, he was just stating facts to her.
"I am only dishonest when it suits me," Rynsana informed him, the slight quirk of her lips belying that she was very good at lying, but had no desire to lie to him. It crossed her mind that she would like to visit Chance's grave, but she continued to aid Thyran with his armour, knowing that they had little enough time. Glancing up at him from where she was tightening the straps of the plate on his right thigh, she met his eye before it moved on to the hammer. When he sighed, she felt herself smile. "Thank you," was all she said, but she meant to thank him for more than just his words and the armour. Much more.
She listened thoughtfully as he spoke, making sure that the plate was secure before speaking, "I would not jump to too many conclusions. Tari seems fond of him and I have never taken her as the sort to enjoy the kind of violent power you describe. She's too..." she searched for the word, "cultured." she finished lamely. "From what I've seen of his features and his movement, he's only half-elven. I've heard that he's a bastard raised by the barbarians to the north. They say he can see without his eyes, but whereabouts I've been..." she straightened, wiping her hands on her pants then pushing her hair out of her face. There was an almost cynical smile on her lips. "You hear a great many things that aren’t always true. What I do know is that if that man is Archaeon, then he's already taken half of Raist'Elor." They both knew that Raist'Elor had not been a united nation since its fall into ruin, and that had been over a thousand years ago. Raist'Elor had once been the heart of a great empire before it was crushed by the combined forces of the human tribes that later formed Eisyden and Raven'hen.
"I would think twice before crossing him..." her eyes told him that she had no doubt that Thyran could kill Archaeon on even grounds, but Archaeon seemed the type to beguile and deceive; a tactician with many battle-hardened men at his back. "One who rides with him..." she shivered, recalling the figure that had watched her, remembering how he had been inhumanly motionless, wreathed in shadows. "There is something... wrong...about him." She lifted her eyes to Thyran's face, meaning what she said but doubting that he would take her warning to heart. "Be weary of the one who hides his face in shadow. He makes my blood run cold."
In the tavern:
Lamara wondered down the stairs, to the tavern. She sighed low to herself. As she stepped foot on the last stair she saw a man, she approached him slowly and with caution, she didn't know where the other's were, and she hoped he would. "Sir?"She asked him, she believed his name was Riven, for there was others whispering in fear of him, saying his name.
Riven's violet eyes snapped up at the mentioning of his name, and his cyan hair swirled about his shoulders. For a moment that dragged into a minute, he scrutinized the woman before him. Finally, apparently deciding that she was no threat, Riven turned back to his drink. "What?" he asked tersely.
In the Forest
"I will watch him closely if you fear him so. I find little that I fear, my only fear lies within, and that is my own problem to be dealt with. Now, shall we return? I would hate to miss out on formally meeting this man, he may yet prove to be a worthy adversary. As far as his men," Thyran gave a short mirthless laugh. "Armor can be used as a weapon against the wearer. Their steel skin will not save them from fire," he said. He took Rynsana's chin in his gauntleted hand and lifted it to look down into her eyes squarely. "Always remember my promise. You will not die, I will be there," he said low his voice smooth as if water running over stone it flowed. He stared a bit longer and Rynsana could see he was fighting within himself to do something then he let her go and retrieved his helmet and put it on. The demon's visage stared back at Rynsana a moment then he turned and mounted Nightmare waiting for her to do the same. He gave Nightmare a pat and stared at Rynsana again. Strange urges have been taking me lately. Uh, if only I could make sense of these whims. Whims? Are they such as that? I've never been this uncertain in such a long time. I must focus on the Eye! Must attain that first. Power! Power to right this damned world! Thyran shifted a bit to get as comfortable in his saddle as he could and once again studied Rynsana's form before giving a slight shake of his head.
Fear. It had never occurred to her to put that word to the feeling - that warning ache in her chest - that the hooded man inspired in her. Was it the flutter of fear that unsettled her so, as Thyran had interpreted? Perhaps, she confessed, but it was not like any fear she had felt previously. She would not accept it as fear. "I do not fear him, Thyran," she said in response, "but there is something unnatural about him that I do not trust." Rynsana had to suppress a shudder upon hearing the mirth in the warrior priest's laughter, her imagination quite capable of summoning images of just what sort of fiery death those armoured men might suffer, trapped and roasted alive within the 'protective' confines of their heavy armour.
But such thoughts and uneasiness were swept from her mind and her features by the smooth caress that was his gentle words and the firm hold he had on her chin. It gave her strength and hope, to know that he would stand by her, and the deep golden light in her eyes swam to the surface as the subtle smile found her lips. "I'll remember..." she promised him, her voice too lowering to an intimate whisper. Someday, she thought as she studied his face, looking into those indifferent blue eyes and seeing past the cold mirrors to the internal struggle beyond. I'll save you too - from the demons, from the pain and hate.. She wanted to reach out to him, but knew it was his struggle and left it as his choice to make. Someday.
Then the moment passed and she followed his lead and mounted, conscious of his eyes on her. She placed her hand on the pommel, hooked her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself smoothly into the saddle. For some reason she could not understand, a grin crept onto her face. "Then let's not be late for the introductions," she agreed, nudging Yvienas' with her heals and riding past Thyran and through the trees back towards the clearing under the Great Tree of Ecalos.
Thyran spurred Nightmare into a trot to pull him even with Rynsana his plate armor jostling and clanking against itself. It mind ran around as he rode, he would have to think quickly and give this lord reason to fear him, or if not that respect his strength. He thought a moment then dismissed the notion to make one of the lord's men an example of his power. That would only cause retaliation. Yes indeed, the thought of tearing them apart and burning them to death came to mind, while his armor was resistant to such attacks it was not impervious, it would succumb to flame as well, though not as easily. He could thank the blacksmith priests of the church for that, many incantations were woven into the very fabric of the metal. He gave a gauntlet a tug and made sure the gold clasp holding the red metal locked was still holding firm. For a priest of Lorken the armor was both practical and ornamental, few would stand against the church openly yet the church did not operate openly, it was despised by many and if its church's locations were known many would flock to kill the priests. Seeing the red armor of a priest of Lorken would strike fear in many men's hearts, they were renowned as one of the most fearsome of the Dark Lord's minions and Thyran boasted to be one of the most deadly of them.
Thyran sat a bit straighter as he looked over at Rynsana in the armor of a priestess of Lorken. She may not be one of like mind but she wore the armor almost as if she were. If I could convert her that would be splendid! Thyran let out a sigh as he rode. Mustn't let your mind wander like that! Think of the lord! He checked his morningstar and looked back at the shield thumping against the plates of Nightmare's rump. They could easily be readied if need be. It will not come to that. Damned fool! Always thinking with the fist instead of your head! Its a wonder I've lived this long. Lords are always planning something, I will have to outsmart him. Thyran snapped out of his inner thoughts with a shake of his head as they neared the inn. Its almost time...
At the top of the staircase, then in the Ecalos Inn:
Vannen had ascended the entirety of the tedious stairway at a light-footed jog, and his breathing was coming a little heavily. A thin layer of sweat had formed on his forehead and he stood before the large double doors that stood slightly ajar. Then, after a moment of mentally gathering his thoughts and tallying each person who remainded within the inn, he realized that only Lamara remained within. Elran was at the foot of the tree with Micheal, Thyran and Rynsana were below, and Chance was dead. Sadly, remembering Chance's demise and sighing deeply, he pushed the door open and entered the main tavern area.
Lamara was the first to catch his eye, for the tavern was not very full this afternoon. He noticed that she was engaged in conversation with the man who had so abruptly attacked Micheal earlier. Wiping the sweat from his brow with the cuff of his shirt, he crossed the room to her. When he reached her, offered a tired but friendly smile, then he turned his blue eyes on Riven. "A friend of yours, Lamara?" He asked politely, his voice completely void of the stiffness in his posture.
Riven's hand slid almost innocently down to hover about the hilt of one of his swords as Vannen approached. He did not deign to answer the question, mostly because it was not directed at him, so he waited for Lamara to respond both to him and to this newcomer.
The clearing at the foot of the Ecalos Inn:
It did not take long, on horseback, for Rynsana and Thyran to reach the clearing. Archaeon and Tari had lapsed back into conversation after Vannen's departure, and the finely-dressed Lord was grinning down at her. His brown eyes smiled, but the expression etched upon the strong planes of his face was otherwise unreadable. He did not seem to take notice of Thyran and Rynsana's arival. He had heard their clanking and footsteps from a ways into the woods and merely watched them out of the corner of his eye, letting them approach if that was their intent. If not, well enough, he was content to speak with Tari after so long.
His men, however, did take note of Thyran who arrived - now mounted - at the far side of the clearing. Their hands went wearily to the hilts of their weapons and their eyes flickered between Archaeon and these two new arivals. They knew the armour of the Lorketh'en and were immediately on the defensive. The hooded figure that sat astride his black horse a few paces behind Archaeon, appeared completely oblivious of what had so ruffled the armsmen behind him.
Thyran sneered behind the metal helmet that hid his face and shifted himself. "There is no need for your weapons," he said loud enough for all to hear holding his hand out. "Tyris," he said in a normal tone. The hilts of all the men's weapons heated until it was uncomfortable to hold them. "If I wanted to kill you I could have done so from the tree's edge," he said riding through their midst to Archaeon. "Now you, I greet you. I am Thyran Warrior Priest of Lorketh'en the "Dark Hammer" as some know me. And you are," he asked straightening in his saddle keeping his eyes on the lord however he watched the hooded figure closely.
With startled exclamations, three of the four armed men hastily released the hilts of their various weapons. A dagger dropped to the ground, and two longswords slid back into the sheathes from which they'd been half-drawn. The fourth was the bowman, and he did not release his bow. His arrow was knocked and he was sighting along the shaft to Thyran, waiting for his Lord's word if such a word were to be given. There was an unmistakably stubborn look in his eye that spoke of loyalty beyond personal pain.
"I am Archaeon, Warlord of Northern Raist'Elor and Lord over Noctaris, and I greet you, Warrior Priest." As soon as Thyran had uttered his first word, Archaeon had kneed his large Freisian mount into a turn on the haunches. The heavy black horse now faced Nightmare squarely, just as her rider now met Thyran's appraoch. The Lord straightened in his saddle, losing the casual posture that he had taken while speaking with Tari. He held himself with an easy pride, gauntleted hands resting on the high pommel of a saddle bearing the insignia of the golden eagle.
Erothenos watched the two emerge from the forest. This paladin confronting the one to which he had delivered the message too. He was irritated by how little he knew about all of these people as well as the newcombers. He was thinking over his decision to travel with them, but he didn't overlook the fact that they were going in the same place, this action could be rewarded, and they may have future interactions. Besides, he wasn't dawdling on peasents here, he would be travelling with those with obvious power. He gazed approvingly at the power expressed with just a word. The warrior priest, Eros beleived he heard correctly, could be have something to do with the priest that hired him to deliever the messsage? He wondered at his power, if eros had merely uttered the word of fire, he wouldn't have been able to targe the weapons like that at all. This man was obviously stong willed beyond his years, he was able to control the element with obvious ease. Eros, had moved back from Archaeon after he handed his delivery, who he now realized why it was delivered to him, a lord.
Thyran took his eyes off the lord and turned the demonic visage to the archer. "I do not threaten, it is a waste of my time. And wasting my time is a great sin Archaeon. Know the reward for this." Thyran kept his hands down but concentrated on both the arrow and the fletching at the end near the archers eye. "Tyris," he spoke quickly flicking his finger up from the pommel of his military saddle pointing toward the archer. Fletching and arrow as well as string ignited in fire and turned to ash but not before the haet claimed the eye of the archer that had kept trained on him. Thyran now turned to Archeaon, "I do not apologize for anything. And I brook no disrespect. While your man did his duty it only threatened me. Hopefully your other men will show more respect to a priest of Lorketh'en and dare not raise hand against me or her," he said gesturing to Rynsana. "We will be departing here shortly, any attempt to hinder us will be met with much of the same effect," he said coldly as if stating facts nothing more.
Michael couldn't take it anymore and let go of the reins. He looked up the stairs and slowly started walking up them. His footsteps were silent and slow with only the front half of his shoes. His little encounter with Riven ran through his head and he wondered what his kind did to riven to make him that way, to make him so hateful towards someone that never killed anyone innocent. Well whatever the others did to him shouldn't be taken out on him.
In the Tavern
Lamara tensed a moment, then hearing Vannen's voice she relaxed slowly, "Forgive me sir, but I seem to be found by the man that I was looking for, I apologize."She bowed her head slightly. She watched the man Riven for a long moment before turning to Vannen, there was something about this man that made her afraid. She didn't know why though, she knew in a way this man was dangerous if prevoked, just like Thyran. She swallowed hard, then as she turned to Vannen she closed her eyes, opening them slowly as she faced him. "No, I was only asking him a question, that seemes that you have answered for me. I was looking for everyone and you..." She looked down.
Riven stared at her for a moment, then blinked once, slowly. Though he turned back to his drink presently, his hand did linger around his weapon for a long moment, and he seemed to have to tear his gaze away in order to refocus on his drink. Damnation, he thought. Of course it was empty. Replacing it on the table in disgust, he rose and turned to the pair before him. With little expression on his scar-crossed, violet-eyed face, Riven asked rather bluntly, "Are you the ones traveling with that... vampire?" His last word rang with spite and distaste, as though the very word were bitter on his tongue.
"We are." was Vannen's bland response, seeming none too happy about it himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the hand that Riven held poised on the hilt of his weapon. Placing a guiding hand on Lamara's shoulder, he gave it a reassuring squeeze. "He helped save another of my companions. We are indebted to him, so he rides with us to Lathiron." The half-elf continued, eyeing Riven wearily. Spurred by the apparent disgust in Riven's demeanour, Vannen reciprocated the bluntness. "Why is that any of your concern?"
"Hm," Riven grunted in disgust, "Watch as he becomes the martyr he should be." With one hand, he thumbed out exact change for his drinks onto the table, then lightly kicked his chair back into place.
Michael walked in through the door way and stopped where he stood and looked straight at Riven. He stayed there for a few moments and went to a table that was in the shadows and waved for a mug of rum.
Riven's eyes slid dangerously to target Michael with a glare so wrathful that it might have slain a god. Without another word, Riven first looked pointedly back at Vannen and Lamara, then stalked out the door, where he commenced in heading down to the base of the inn.
In the clearing at the foot of Ecalos:
The maimed archer slumped forward in his saddle, dropping his bow to clutch at his eye. His horse whinnied uncomfortably and pranced, sidestepping onto the bow which snapped with a sharp crack. Anger as hot as the fire Thyran had weilded seared through Archaeon's mind. His jaw tightened and his hands clenched, nearly crushing the parchment letter he still held, but these - and the dangerous glint in his eye -were the only outward signs of his anger. The other men had drawn their weapons before the bow had fallen, but Archaeon raised his hand. They put their weapons away.
"Can you ride, my friend?" He said quietly to the quivering, bow-less man at his side. At the sound of Archaeon's voice, the archer sat up straighter in his saddle and lowered his hands from his ruined eye. Tears streamed down his cheeks from the charred eye-socket, but he held his head high. He answered with a nod.
Only then did Archaeon respond to Thyran. "That is not something I will soon forget, Warrior Priest." He said, brown eyes glittering coldly. It was clear that the Lord of Raist'Elor was refering to both Thyran's lesson and the harm Thyran had wrought. And he meant it. He would not forget, and Archaeon was not a good enemy to make. Fighting back another savage urge to slide his blade into the eye cavity of the demonic helmet Thyran wore, into the skull and human flesh beyond, Archaeon averted his attention to Rynsana. "A Priestess of Lorketh'en?"
Erothenos frowned at the event. The first bout of power was one worth showing. This one, was pointfully cruel, and unjustly so. Erothenos would never voice such things, as neither man of power would he ever be stupid enough to make an enemy of; however, whilst he may not be the stalwart defender of unjust acts, Erothenos had a habit of putting himself in the other mans shoes. In this case, an archers eye was ruined, he could easily guess that no one around held the ever rare words of healing, and his career would most likely be over as soon as they reached the next outpost. His depth perception was ruined, which was the most important for an archer, who needs to gage the distances of an object to adequately hit them. All because of his unfailing loyalty to this noble. Eros pondered for a moment, wondering if a priest or priestess would have so many words of power, but none that could heal. They could, and he would not just know, but he suspected against that notion. In his home, there were a few, very very few, that were the healers. Guarding those words of power with there lives, as it was there livelyhood. Using there unique knowledge to make livings as doctors and healers. Usually bonded with the church of the stars, they offered there services as a gift of the stars. Yet he knew nothing of this order of priests and priestesses. Did they all specialize in such aggressive powers, or only this one? Eros knew he had much to learn about the humans, and he was more, then eager.
Thyran stared coldly at Archaeon and then let out a mirthless laugh that reverberated through his helmet. "Threats from such little men. Oh how you amuse me," Thyran gave the men a look then almost laughed again. As if they had the power to stop me! Thyran could see the anger in Archaeon and almost wanted him to draw his sword. It had been a long time since he had engaged in melee combat, he had relied too much on his power lately and he itched to smash this pompous fool's skull with Vengeance. "It was wise of you to heed me. I see you are a man that knows his place," he said sneering behind the metal of his helmet. "You would do well to steer clear of me 'lord'," he said emphasising the lord with contempt and hatred. "Or next time I shall make an example of you to your men. I doubt they would like to see the flesh melted from your bones." Thyran looked over at the hooded figure again, he had not moved during the altercation. Does he serve this lord as well? His gaze then settled on Erothenos, he could tell that the man was not exactly pleased with the 'lesson' but the man would not move against him. I wonder if he would serve? He seems a smart man, so far. Thyran turned and looked to Rynsana and almost grimaced, he did not want to do what he had done but it was necessary to keep Archaeon on his toes and fear what he did not know or he would try to use them all. That was the way of nobles and he did not plan to dance for this man. But he will serve me! One way or another Archaeon you will serve me in the end. Unit kingdoms if you wish, in the end it will not matter because I will rule it all! And you will be held accountable for all the blood you have shed! Justice, for a thousand millenia. Then the voice came back with sharp cackling laughter, "Are you no better my son?" Thyran dismissed the voice quickly and turned to face Archaeon again. He wanted nothing more at that moment to explain his reasons to Rynsana and touch her face, but the others might see it as a sign of weakness. He was anything but weak, but did not want that seed planted.
Riven stormed from the inn and made his way to the base of the inn, where his electric blue hair only accentuated the fire in his violet eyes, eyes that absolutely burned with spite. He merely glared at anyone at the foot of the tree.
Erothenos looked behind me, not to far off, as a man descended the tree, to stand at it's base. Yet another un-familiar face. He wondered how long it would be, before this estranged altercation would end, and the actual travelling would begin. He needed to figure out the social hierarchy working within the group, and affectively place himself somewhere within it. But he could never do that until things got moving, and socialization in a comfertable setting occured. Eros was adding up the necessary components of all his objectives like math problems. Factoring in all the necessary variables for maximum effectiveness.
In the Tavern
Lamara narrowed her brows in misunderstanding. "Vannen? What do you think bother's him so?" She asked, as she took a step in the direction that Riven went. She felt like she should follow, but fear held her close to Vannen.
Michael watched as Riven left the tavern. He turned his attention back to the person with his drink and paid them double the normal amount. He took a sip and stared at the table just thinking about everything that went on.
In the clearing at the foot of Ecalos
"Come, we must move. LAMARA, MICHAEL, we're leaving... now," Thyran yelled up into the tree spurring Nightmare into a slow trot that carried him through the soldiers and past the dark cloaked figure. "Rynsana, it would be best if we pressed this day, too much time has been spent here," Thyran said reiterating his point yet again that there were others out there that were looking for the Eye as well as them. Time was precious, the more they wasted the more they fell behind others that searched for the Eye. Thyran would not be surprised if he would meet a brother or sister from the church searching for the Eye as well. Most followers of Lorketh'en coveted power, but none held his own goals, many would free the long sleeping God but Thyran had different plans. He had hidden the last sane part of his mind, waiting for the right time to unlock the door to that precious vault and release his true self. But like the best of vaults the contents within had been corroded with age, he was not totally whole, and never would be. Until he claimed the Eye and became a god himself, to strike down Lorketh'en and rule with absolute justice. He almost felt like laughing, he had given most of his self to the god he planned to destroy. He often wondered if in destroying Lorketh'en he would destroy that part he had given over to darkness. No time to think about that you idiot, FOCUS! He gave himself a shake and continued his pace not even looking back to see if anyone had followed, he could care less, except one...
Elran had watched the whole series of events with reluctant interest. When Thyran scorched the archer's eye, there was nothing Elran could've done, but now he felt like taking on Thyran. He was fairly sure he couldn't beat the mad priest - his magical powers might surpress that of the priest, but the priest had melee skills far beyond his - but he knew what Thyran did was wrong, and he wanted to stop it. He turned to Lord Archaeon. The man seemed enraged, but powerless. Elran wasn't impressed by this man. He rode around like a true Lord, but he couldn't stop a mad priest from harming his men. His eyes turned towards the hooded man. Throughout the whole ordeal, he had become increasingly interested in this man, who did nothing at all. "And you, hooded one. You did not even raise a finger to defend your lord when he was being threatened. Who are you?"
In the Tavern
Michael sighed and dropped a few coins down on the table and left the tavern and down the steps.
Vannen's elven ears picked up Thyran's shout, and he smirked. Gently taking Lamara's arm, he lead her out through the large wooden doors and into the warm summer air of the forest outside. From that height, they could see the canopy of trees spreading out beneath them, a sea of green, and in the distance to their right, they could see the river Nomed winding it's way southwards. "Vampires bother him, as far as I can tell." He responded thoughtfully, "They probably killed a family member or scarred him as a child."
At the foot of Ecalos:
Micheal looked around for riven so he can stay out of his way or in his way to get some answers if needed. Why does a crazy man want me to die?. "I wonder when the dark clan will try and attack my new friends?!" Michael whispered to himself so no one would hear him as he reached to bottom of the steps.
Archaeon had had enough of Thryan's jibes. The only thing that had stayed his sword was the presence of Lady Tari, and the hesitation to harm anyone who travels with her. "I do not care for a madman's insults." He said, calm still, like ice. "Next time, Priest, do try and make an example of myself before you hurt my men." He looked sharply at Tari as Thyran rode past. His harsh control on his anger relaxed, and he grinned helplessly down at the Lady Asydena. "You ride in strange company, my Lady."
"The madman is right. We must reach the river before nightfall." A smooth voice, characterized by a cultured lilt of indifference, pierced the shadow of the figure's hood. Quiet though it was, it slipped through the air like a snake, reaching every person as if he stood, whispering it intimately into their ears. The figure turned it's shadowed face towards Elran. The lone movement sent shivers through the heavy cloak that shrouded his figure. "I ride with Archaeon." He spoke now only to Elran. No more whispers graced the ears of others. "I do not serve him." He smiled invisibly, ignoring Elran's inquiry as to his identity.
Erothenos heard the whisper, slithering through the air to make it to his and everyone else's ears. It intrigued him greatly. He inspected the dark hooded one for moments, as he pondered as to whether or not to follow. Deciding he would follow the man who received his message, he moved to Archeon for a moment to converse. "Lord, I am at your service for the duration of this trip. My special talents are at your disposal if you so deem it." Erothenos said, lifting up his wings slightly as to indicate just what those talents would most likely be.
Elran could understand what the hooded man said to him. He did not serve anybody himself, and he wished not to serve anybody. He would not commit himself to Archaeon, but Thyran had to be stopped. "If you're going after the priest, then I shall ride along. With you."
Elran looked at the man with determination. He was confident this man knew much more than Archaeon, the priest, or anybody here. Mainly because the man obviously was powerful. Whom else could smile without smiling, or speak without speaking, than a master of magic? He would follow this man, if only to see what he was. Elran's lips turned into a small grin, as he thought to himself he didn't have anything better to do anyway.
Of his features, nothing was seen, but Elran could almost feel the figure's eyes on him, like a spider crawling up his spine. The hooded man could catch bits and pieces of the were-raven's unguarded thoughts, and they amused him. As did the determination in Elran's eye. For a short time, there was silence, then a hand, sheathed in black leather, appeared from the folds of the cloak. No skin was seen since the midnight blue silk of his chemise touched the leather of his gloves. On the silver cuff links, there appeared to be an ornate M made up of tiny figures that were difficult to make out. Extending his hand to Elran, he spoke again in that smooth voice. "Then I welcome your company." After a moment's pause, he added. "I am Vincent."
Riven, on his way to refill his waterskin, paused long enough to watch Eros stretch his wings. The blue-haired, pointy-eared man had not yet left Michael's line of sight, and when Eros displayed his wingspan, the fierce, leather-clad hunter visibly shuddered, as though holding back a cry of great pain. Even for several long moments thereafter, Riven stood riveted to the spot until he managed to shake off the feeling and commenced in locating the nearest source of water.
Michael sniffed the air and turned to face riven heading off. He started walking around the open area, looking in every direction carefully. Come on you scum where are you hiding? Michael smelt only horse blood with his friend's blood faintly but he knows if this dark clan smelt horses that they will attack those who are using them.
Tari gave a faint smile at Archaeon's comment and tilted her head slightly. "I like not to think them strange My Lord. They are who they are, something one cannot change in hopes of better traveling company." She glanced at Elran, then to Erothenos as he pledged himself to Archaeon. A look of concern rose to the palor of her pale skin, yet almost as quickly hid itself again. Her gaze paused for a moment, and then swept back up to his face, and his helpless grin.
Since it was Eros who first spoke to him, it was to the birdman that Lord Archaeon first responded. "Thank you," he said, his anger withdrawing to the back of his mind. "I accept your service. I might need your assistance in the delivery of a return letter. May I know the name of my ally?"
Then the green-clad Warlord returned his attention to Tari, his demeanour softening subtly. "Strange is perhaps not the word for them, though I think your other companion here intends to do what he can to change the Priest, at least." Archaeon glanced briefly at Elran, a shiver passing through him at the hooded figure's murmured phrases. His own company was not the best either, he reflected somewhat cynically. "But for all his faults," the Warlord continued with a sigh, "Your Warrior Priest is right. We must ride." His brown eyes returned to Tari, his crooked smile gone from his features though lingering in his eyes as he gazed down at her. "You have a horse, my Lady?"
Riven scowled as he filled his waterskin, and when he returned from the stream behind the Ecalos, he slipped into the shadows, peering out from a place of hiding at the group assembled at the base of the tree. Why did he smell so much blood? Rather--he knew that while he could only scent such a pungence as well as the next person, it was his warrior's sense, that sixth sense that told him something here was not right. Even that one didn't instill in him such a sense of malice, he reflected, glaring at Michael from a distance. Perhaps he should tail these ones; they were on horseback, but that would prove no problem to the blue-haired ranger. Disappearing deeper into cover, Riven decided to wait it out, dropping eaves on the group's conversation at a distance.
Michael sighed quietly and started to follow those who were leaving. He didn't understand why riven was so hostile against him and no one told him anything, so he was left in the dark to find out for himself. Michael pulled his hood tighter over his eyes and walked at a slow pace.
Elran brought up his hand and shook the hooded figure's hand. "Well met, Vincent. I am Elran."
He looked up to the hood, could almost imagine eyes in that darkness, almost, but after an instance, he could discern nothing but darkness. He looked at Vincent for a few more moments, holding the man's hand, before letting go and looking in the direction Thyran left. "Shall we go then? I would hate for the lunatic to get too far ahead of us."
He pondered over the challenge Thyran posed once more. He'd need to get stronger, somehow. At least, he figured, he still had his magic words.
My name is Erothenos Ri'en of the Rei’Lâmys. Delivery would be a easy task if you wish it of me." Eros answered simply. He kept his demenour open and inviting, whilst not cowed or submissive. He was simply offering his services for which he expected payment, however a professional knows never to ask, and Eros was definetly skilled at obtaining his wants and needs. "I can follow the group, or I can relay messages between you and the priest that sent me. I had only arrived when my services were rapidly procured for the point of this trip to you, so I don't know the city or surrounding area well. However, I can make it back to the priest with relative ease."
"How about keeping us updated on Thyran's progress?" Elran suggested to Eros. "We're all after the Eye here. Personally, I'd hate to come anywhere near the blasted thing, but I'd hate it even more to fall into the hands of a madman. We should make haste." Elran spoke to everybody in general, but he kept his eyes fixed on Lord Archeaon longer than on anybody else, to make clear that he should give the signal to move. Most of the people here were under his command, and Elran figured it might be useful to travel with a pack of bodyguards.
[Please remember to keep a line break here. Thank you]
* [Mira Ravenheart]
* [Crimson Mistress]/ Rynsana Numenrin/ Vannen DarkChyld
* [Goddess of Nothing]/ Tari Asydena
* [Fallen Paladin], [Paladin]/ Thyran
* [Reonowyn]/ Lamara
* [Black(V)age]/ Michael
* [Tekkon KinKreet] ..
* [Final_omega]/ Dimitri
* [Blood Raven]/ Elran Dunnessan
* [NightHawk]/ Riven
* [Zero X]/ Theretos Medevon (Piper)
* [Fizban]/ Erothenos Ri'en
Ecalos, the Inn
The Haunted Inn
The Haunted Inn 2
The Haunted Inn 3
The Haunted Inn 4
The Haunted Inn 5
This RP is officially closed [Mira Ravenheart] doesn't have enough time or patience to keep it up and running.
It might start again at a later date.