Introduction
Our story begins with the reading of a journal, found in the burnt home of a one Adrian Arden. 'tis an old brown leather back, thick with vast quantities of information, laying hidden beneath every word, every fleck of the quill.
"I find myself most troubled as of late." It begins, the first sentence a warning in itself, that all who read these words are destined for a story far removed from happiness. "The townsfolk have been asking questions and I know not the answers, or rather, I know not the answers that they want. If I reveal to them the nature of myself I fear death." Fearing death, an uncommon thought for the townsfolk, but with the realization of clear danger with the owner of this book, the words become more and more shaky, rushed as if the information is about to be destroyed. "I find myself writing these words if for no other reason than a child-like hope to preserve some part of what I know, so if someone is reading this, please don't assume everything to be what it is at a first glance. This book will contain things that only a careful mind would understand." That statement was the only part not encrypted in some way, a series of careful measures hide the true information from what could only be described as "usual minds". This book was destined to fall into the hands of someone who's mind was both unclouded, and sharp as a new katana.
The words continue, but are scrawled thin and are barely legible, the sections intended to draw attention written in a red ink, or something with the appearance of such, as appose to the black. The most noticeable section being a series of pictures present in the central part of the book, all drawn in red ink and from an unsteady hand, thus the lines are far from straight and the symbols unrecognizable unless next to what they were copied from. The section depicts a series of individuals, though they are not depicted as actual people, and are instead referred to as "Life Keys" that phrase being written large at the top of the very middle page of the book, with scrawled black words either side, more reference material that explains what most would not understand anyway.. Though a small section in red at the base of this picture describes in a little more detail:
"Life keys. They are what I require, what we all require." The delusions of an apparent mad man come through, as the words become ever more rushed and mad. "I know not how many there are in total, but when they all come together, the world will know of it. The sky will blacken, cut out the sun, before drawing it and blasting the clouds away for the new dawn. They are heroes but not .. They're people like you or I, providing someone is reading this, if not, then just I, and if it is just I then this world is doomed." "This world is doomed" Seemed like a rather harsh and stupidly written statement, though the underlining and bold writing it was clear this much was important to whoever wrote this. The book goes on to describe, the existence of a series of living keys, people destined for incredible power, who's purpose is to "repair the world" That phrase is written over and over along the page, sometimes over existing words but always in red and with clear underlines. It continues right to the end in this manner, a few paragraphs being more noticeable and slightly more carefully written for clarity, they are the following:
"The keys must all unite.. When they do, they can prevent the world from splitting." This was a mere metaphor, the world would be scarred but not split, instead it refered to the lands, all of which were ruled by different emperors, each with their kings, their princes, their generals and so on. It referred to a sort of war, though with the relative peace between nations as a whole, this appeared strange. "It will happen in the month of frostvale, when the world is coldest, that is when the world will crack, as ice does so shall the nations, they shall split and be separate from each other. From the center of the world an evil is brewing, it must be locked away, death must be sealed with the life keys."
"It has been well known, well documented, that the land between all lands, the center, is unknown, but no emperor or king will answer as to why. Most think it a neutral ground, so that there is always a safe zone for citizens, so that they could transfer lands, but it's not true. It's a cold place, and a dark one at that, some travel through it, and some make it out, but I've sent messengers, ten of them to each land, only one has reached his destination." A clear sick and macabre investigation had ensued, one that had cost lives with seemingly no regret. An earlier statement was now brought up, in quotation marks and underlined. "If I reveal the nature of myself, I fear death"" It begins. "I am nearing death, at night I can hear the town plotting against me, so I must go with only one last statement. ""Reach the center of the world, the keys will come together and stop evil at it's source..." The rest of the book is nothing but pictures and scribbles, which is noted as the book is thrown to one side. The town of frostpeak, a brutally cold mountain environment, breathed a sigh of relief over who they considered a murder, now laying charred in what used to be his bed, the book being thrown from his bedroom window to the floor, where it lays once again for the right person to pick it up.
"I find myself most troubled as of late." It begins, the first sentence a warning in itself, that all who read these words are destined for a story far removed from happiness. "The townsfolk have been asking questions and I know not the answers, or rather, I know not the answers that they want. If I reveal to them the nature of myself I fear death." Fearing death, an uncommon thought for the townsfolk, but with the realization of clear danger with the owner of this book, the words become more and more shaky, rushed as if the information is about to be destroyed. "I find myself writing these words if for no other reason than a child-like hope to preserve some part of what I know, so if someone is reading this, please don't assume everything to be what it is at a first glance. This book will contain things that only a careful mind would understand." That statement was the only part not encrypted in some way, a series of careful measures hide the true information from what could only be described as "usual minds". This book was destined to fall into the hands of someone who's mind was both unclouded, and sharp as a new katana.
The words continue, but are scrawled thin and are barely legible, the sections intended to draw attention written in a red ink, or something with the appearance of such, as appose to the black. The most noticeable section being a series of pictures present in the central part of the book, all drawn in red ink and from an unsteady hand, thus the lines are far from straight and the symbols unrecognizable unless next to what they were copied from. The section depicts a series of individuals, though they are not depicted as actual people, and are instead referred to as "Life Keys" that phrase being written large at the top of the very middle page of the book, with scrawled black words either side, more reference material that explains what most would not understand anyway.. Though a small section in red at the base of this picture describes in a little more detail:
"Life keys. They are what I require, what we all require." The delusions of an apparent mad man come through, as the words become ever more rushed and mad. "I know not how many there are in total, but when they all come together, the world will know of it. The sky will blacken, cut out the sun, before drawing it and blasting the clouds away for the new dawn. They are heroes but not .. They're people like you or I, providing someone is reading this, if not, then just I, and if it is just I then this world is doomed." "This world is doomed" Seemed like a rather harsh and stupidly written statement, though the underlining and bold writing it was clear this much was important to whoever wrote this. The book goes on to describe, the existence of a series of living keys, people destined for incredible power, who's purpose is to "repair the world" That phrase is written over and over along the page, sometimes over existing words but always in red and with clear underlines. It continues right to the end in this manner, a few paragraphs being more noticeable and slightly more carefully written for clarity, they are the following:
"The keys must all unite.. When they do, they can prevent the world from splitting." This was a mere metaphor, the world would be scarred but not split, instead it refered to the lands, all of which were ruled by different emperors, each with their kings, their princes, their generals and so on. It referred to a sort of war, though with the relative peace between nations as a whole, this appeared strange. "It will happen in the month of frostvale, when the world is coldest, that is when the world will crack, as ice does so shall the nations, they shall split and be separate from each other. From the center of the world an evil is brewing, it must be locked away, death must be sealed with the life keys."
"It has been well known, well documented, that the land between all lands, the center, is unknown, but no emperor or king will answer as to why. Most think it a neutral ground, so that there is always a safe zone for citizens, so that they could transfer lands, but it's not true. It's a cold place, and a dark one at that, some travel through it, and some make it out, but I've sent messengers, ten of them to each land, only one has reached his destination." A clear sick and macabre investigation had ensued, one that had cost lives with seemingly no regret. An earlier statement was now brought up, in quotation marks and underlined. "If I reveal the nature of myself, I fear death"" It begins. "I am nearing death, at night I can hear the town plotting against me, so I must go with only one last statement. ""Reach the center of the world, the keys will come together and stop evil at it's source..." The rest of the book is nothing but pictures and scribbles, which is noted as the book is thrown to one side. The town of frostpeak, a brutally cold mountain environment, breathed a sigh of relief over who they considered a murder, now laying charred in what used to be his bed, the book being thrown from his bedroom window to the floor, where it lays once again for the right person to pick it up.
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Setting
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The clouds broke over a new day in Frostpeak. The sun's illuminating rays were already casting a soft shimmer over the veil of snow that covered the area. There was something to be noted about the beauty of it all, despite all that had happened in the recent days, weeks and months, day break was and always would be a glorious time. The streets lit up, offering a sort of fake warmth, the kind that could distract you from the cold, though your body would remain chilled. The residents were already making full use of the new day, heading to the store to stock up on freshly delivered produce,some were heading to buying fresh winter clothes.. Some were even heading to the tavern, if for no other reason than a fresh morning meal. Whatever their purpose, the locals were disinterested in previous evening's events, which were noticeable to say the least.
In what could only be considered to be a bizarre set of circumstances, one unfortunate soul had perished, when his house, a once noble looking building, had collapsed into a fierce blaze. It took no kind of genius to look at this place and know it was not a simple accident, a simple fire could have been put out, or at least there would be evidence of an attempt, but there would be no such thing for this ex building. It lay in a smoldering pile of rubble, having collapsed into the cobblestone foundations after supporting beams had weakened. The owner of the property, in a death far more horrific than any other the town had seen, had burned. He'd not had a peaceful death, dreaming away while he inhaled the fumes that'd choke his life, he'd died awake, and screaming to high heavens as the fire wrecked his body with pain. To be able to escape at all would be nothing short of miraculous, but he was no wizard. He knew no tricks that could save him, and instead, had been left to accept his fate.
It'd make sense that someone would at least hear him and run to his aid. To hear such blood curdling calls of anguish would rouse even the heaviest of sleepers from their beds, but they were all still warm towards the night. No one had come to help, no one had even bothered to try and control the fire, scale it down to give the poor man a fighting chance. Regardless of motive, this was cruel.
The whole event had been covered up, and quite literally at that, shortly after all was finished, a fresh set of snow flew in to coat the black burned out home in white. Even the very sky didn't want this to be knon, for all intents and purposes, this was an accident nothing more. The perpetrators, likely members of the very town that'd had the fire, would never be caught it seemed. Even the diary, cast from the bedroom window, had been kicked out of the way. This was ignorance at his finest, whoever looked at it and believed it to be anything but a cold and calculated assassination, was an idiot, you would have to be well and truly dense to even consider it to be otherwise.
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In what could only be considered to be a bizarre set of circumstances, one unfortunate soul had perished, when his house, a once noble looking building, had collapsed into a fierce blaze. It took no kind of genius to look at this place and know it was not a simple accident, a simple fire could have been put out, or at least there would be evidence of an attempt, but there would be no such thing for this ex building. It lay in a smoldering pile of rubble, having collapsed into the cobblestone foundations after supporting beams had weakened. The owner of the property, in a death far more horrific than any other the town had seen, had burned. He'd not had a peaceful death, dreaming away while he inhaled the fumes that'd choke his life, he'd died awake, and screaming to high heavens as the fire wrecked his body with pain. To be able to escape at all would be nothing short of miraculous, but he was no wizard. He knew no tricks that could save him, and instead, had been left to accept his fate.
It'd make sense that someone would at least hear him and run to his aid. To hear such blood curdling calls of anguish would rouse even the heaviest of sleepers from their beds, but they were all still warm towards the night. No one had come to help, no one had even bothered to try and control the fire, scale it down to give the poor man a fighting chance. Regardless of motive, this was cruel.
The whole event had been covered up, and quite literally at that, shortly after all was finished, a fresh set of snow flew in to coat the black burned out home in white. Even the very sky didn't want this to be knon, for all intents and purposes, this was an accident nothing more. The perpetrators, likely members of the very town that'd had the fire, would never be caught it seemed. Even the diary, cast from the bedroom window, had been kicked out of the way. This was ignorance at his finest, whoever looked at it and believed it to be anything but a cold and calculated assassination, was an idiot, you would have to be well and truly dense to even consider it to be otherwise.
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Strife Bloodrose, the wandering sod that he was, stumbled aimlessly up towards the burnt out husk of a house that was now covered by a fresh patch of snow. Immediately stubbing his toe upon a concealed piece of burnt wood and transforming into a rolling ball of snow,cursing and leather. The elf lay there for awhile,chilled to the bone by the snow and nursing a tender pinky toe when something poking from the frozen ground caught his eye,he pushed himself up off the ground,dusting the snow off his cloak before snatching it from the ground. It seemed to be a diary of some kind,perhaps the ramblings of a madman...or the last words of the houses owner. He grinned widely as he opened the tome up,flicking through the pages excitedly,his pace slowing as he neared the end,glancing several times at the charred house that his stumbling uncovered. The elf pocketed the diary and without a word,a chuckle or a wave to any inhabitant he passed, strode towards what he assumed was the places tavern.
The being's hood was still covering his head as he raised his right leg,slamming it heavily into the tavern door to knock it open. Strife stormed towards the barkeep and pulled the book from his pocket,opening it to a page detailing the key's and throwing it heavily onto the counter,his accusing eyes shadowed by his hood. Their ice blue and piercing gaze only visible to the barkeep and no-one else. The maroon scar running down the left side of his face glowing a fiery orange,his skin shadowed and turned from it's usual pale white to a pitch black,The barkeep would be terrified of this being whom resembled something akin to a nether demon.
"You,tell me right now what happened to the owner of that burnt husk of a house I stumbled into near this book!,I swear,if ye give me a lie I'll send a blade through yer gullet. I ain't no fool and that house wasn't burnt down by any accidental fire, and not a single one of ya bastards seem to care!" Strife hissed angrily,a blood-red mist appearing in the corner of his eyes,slowly advancing until his entire iris changed color as if it had been corrupted.
"The person who wrote this book,what did he do to you lot to deserve that kind of death?, What gives ye the right to take a life,any life no matter how tainted ye think it may be." He ranted,almost roaring at the barkeep in anger,his hand reaching into his cloak pocket but not producing anything for the moment. The elf was not always in command of his anger.
The being's hood was still covering his head as he raised his right leg,slamming it heavily into the tavern door to knock it open. Strife stormed towards the barkeep and pulled the book from his pocket,opening it to a page detailing the key's and throwing it heavily onto the counter,his accusing eyes shadowed by his hood. Their ice blue and piercing gaze only visible to the barkeep and no-one else. The maroon scar running down the left side of his face glowing a fiery orange,his skin shadowed and turned from it's usual pale white to a pitch black,The barkeep would be terrified of this being whom resembled something akin to a nether demon.
"You,tell me right now what happened to the owner of that burnt husk of a house I stumbled into near this book!,I swear,if ye give me a lie I'll send a blade through yer gullet. I ain't no fool and that house wasn't burnt down by any accidental fire, and not a single one of ya bastards seem to care!" Strife hissed angrily,a blood-red mist appearing in the corner of his eyes,slowly advancing until his entire iris changed color as if it had been corrupted.
"The person who wrote this book,what did he do to you lot to deserve that kind of death?, What gives ye the right to take a life,any life no matter how tainted ye think it may be." He ranted,almost roaring at the barkeep in anger,his hand reaching into his cloak pocket but not producing anything for the moment. The elf was not always in command of his anger.
The bar keep, the old, balding man that he was.. Was not impressed. He was frightened that became clear, in his steadily ticking years he'd long since lost the ability for any proper combat, about all he could do was pour drinks and collect coin, and so the inquisition, of which he was not expecting, came as a shock.
He backed away a little, the last thing he wanted was any sort of bar room brawl, it'd be bad for business, as well as his steadily creaking hip.. And he let that be known. "I'm just a simple barkeep.. I'd like to keep ma business as is, and get on with the day. Ya wanna drink?" His accent was something akin to a real world Scottish, he'd not hailed from the area, but had traveled far to find this place, not wanting to get it broken. He soon poured the disgruntled elf a mug of his finest ale.. that wasn't to say it was fine, if anything it was akin to that of water, with only a slight hint at alcoholic content. With a shaking hand it was soon pushed towards the man, who had no apparent intention to calm down.
It was fortunate then, that the barkeep was not alone in his reluctance for any sort of fist fighting within the building, as Mizaru, the soul patron of a room upstairs, awoke from his slumber, hearing the conversation downstairs with relative ease.. Though the shouting and angry tones clouded it somewhat, the general theme was understood.. Angry Elf, Scared bar keep, old wooden building.. and a fresh mug of poor quality ale as a means to calm the situation.
He sat himself up, strapping his swords to his back and putting on his light weight armor. With a long sigh, his hand running over his face, touching his eyelids which protected useless eyes, he wrapped a folded cloth over his face. It blocked his eyes from view, and left a trail down his back, which rest between the sheaths of his weapons. He soon made his way downstairs, making little sound until he begun to speak, his dark elf nature being anything but positive. His and the angry gentleman's kind had never got on, they were from two different lines, but in commoner's tongue, Mizaru helped to at least difuse the situation, even if it lead to a fight outside. About all he wanted was to have breakfast, and the elf was disturbing that.
In a deep and authoritative voice, and in a well spoken manner, one that only screamed nobility, he begun to speak. "It is not the fault of this barkeeper, that the house has been destroyed. Regardless of he is deserving, you will get little from screaming, please.. read me what you have that points towards this frail human. He could not hold any of the supplies used for a fire of that magnitude, even if he did want the unfortunate soul in that blaze to perish." It could be considered only incredible that his movements were so fluid despite lacking sight. He took the mug of ale before the Elf could worsen things with drinking, and proceeded to hand it to one lucky drunk, placing a few coins on the counter, to pay for the drink and two breakfasts.. which would hopefully taste better. "You look famished, please, join me for breakfast so we might discover something with this book.. I'm guessing you two are an outsider, thus we are the only two here interested in solving things."
He backed away a little, the last thing he wanted was any sort of bar room brawl, it'd be bad for business, as well as his steadily creaking hip.. And he let that be known. "I'm just a simple barkeep.. I'd like to keep ma business as is, and get on with the day. Ya wanna drink?" His accent was something akin to a real world Scottish, he'd not hailed from the area, but had traveled far to find this place, not wanting to get it broken. He soon poured the disgruntled elf a mug of his finest ale.. that wasn't to say it was fine, if anything it was akin to that of water, with only a slight hint at alcoholic content. With a shaking hand it was soon pushed towards the man, who had no apparent intention to calm down.
It was fortunate then, that the barkeep was not alone in his reluctance for any sort of fist fighting within the building, as Mizaru, the soul patron of a room upstairs, awoke from his slumber, hearing the conversation downstairs with relative ease.. Though the shouting and angry tones clouded it somewhat, the general theme was understood.. Angry Elf, Scared bar keep, old wooden building.. and a fresh mug of poor quality ale as a means to calm the situation.
He sat himself up, strapping his swords to his back and putting on his light weight armor. With a long sigh, his hand running over his face, touching his eyelids which protected useless eyes, he wrapped a folded cloth over his face. It blocked his eyes from view, and left a trail down his back, which rest between the sheaths of his weapons. He soon made his way downstairs, making little sound until he begun to speak, his dark elf nature being anything but positive. His and the angry gentleman's kind had never got on, they were from two different lines, but in commoner's tongue, Mizaru helped to at least difuse the situation, even if it lead to a fight outside. About all he wanted was to have breakfast, and the elf was disturbing that.
In a deep and authoritative voice, and in a well spoken manner, one that only screamed nobility, he begun to speak. "It is not the fault of this barkeeper, that the house has been destroyed. Regardless of he is deserving, you will get little from screaming, please.. read me what you have that points towards this frail human. He could not hold any of the supplies used for a fire of that magnitude, even if he did want the unfortunate soul in that blaze to perish." It could be considered only incredible that his movements were so fluid despite lacking sight. He took the mug of ale before the Elf could worsen things with drinking, and proceeded to hand it to one lucky drunk, placing a few coins on the counter, to pay for the drink and two breakfasts.. which would hopefully taste better. "You look famished, please, join me for breakfast so we might discover something with this book.. I'm guessing you two are an outsider, thus we are the only two here interested in solving things."
Strife turned to the newcomer angrily,his pupil's shifting to become jagged runes that analyzed the beings entire form. He snatched the book up from the counter,intentionally hitting the barkeep across the face with the corner of it,of course it would look like a simple accident. He shifted his leather cloak to sit more comfortably around him,being that he wore nothing under it if he had not been molding the leather to his form for years it would be quite an uncomfortable outfit indeed. The jangle of metal would be heard from underneath it, a jangle that was soon silenced when he removed his hand from his pocket and grumpily headed over to a nearby table. He waved a hand to the barkeep,a universal signal known to mean 'Bring me two pints of ale.'
"The name's Strife Bloodrose,and aye,yer right I'm an outsider. I stumbled across a very obvious charred pile of rubble,embers still floated about it despite the heavy layer of snow and I happened to notice no attempt's at putting the fire out were found...anywhere...The book I found was a diary by the house-owner that had by how far it was embedded into the ground been chucked out the damn window..." He shot a poisonous glance to the barkeep before continuing "He feared that the towns-folk would kill him because he couldn't give them the answers they wanted to certain questions...it doesn't say what the questions were but at this line here it reads 'The townsfolk have been asking questions and I know not the answers, or rather, I know not the answers that they want. If I reveal to them the nature of myself I fear death.' The nature of himself...fearing death..rather unusual for a quiet out of the way town eh?...and now the townsfolk are walking about like they see the horrific spectacle of a man burning 't death every damn day, either that or they somehow didn't notice feral screams and a charred house before it managed to get buried by snow...I ain't blaming the barkeep,but the barkeep as I've found is the medium to everyone else in a town." Strife finished,flicking his hood back so that its shadows no longer covered his pure white hair or the dozen or so scar's that adorned his shoulders and chest. His eyes shifted back to an ice blue and his pupil's returned to regular shape.
"If yer paying for breakfast and feel like helpin' me with this mess then I'm happy to have yer company mate." He said simply,leaning back and propping his feat up upon the table,the book grasped firmly between two of his finger's,his other hand lightly holding his jaw as he studied the suddenly very hurried and nearly illegible words of the dead man.
"The name's Strife Bloodrose,and aye,yer right I'm an outsider. I stumbled across a very obvious charred pile of rubble,embers still floated about it despite the heavy layer of snow and I happened to notice no attempt's at putting the fire out were found...anywhere...The book I found was a diary by the house-owner that had by how far it was embedded into the ground been chucked out the damn window..." He shot a poisonous glance to the barkeep before continuing "He feared that the towns-folk would kill him because he couldn't give them the answers they wanted to certain questions...it doesn't say what the questions were but at this line here it reads 'The townsfolk have been asking questions and I know not the answers, or rather, I know not the answers that they want. If I reveal to them the nature of myself I fear death.' The nature of himself...fearing death..rather unusual for a quiet out of the way town eh?...and now the townsfolk are walking about like they see the horrific spectacle of a man burning 't death every damn day, either that or they somehow didn't notice feral screams and a charred house before it managed to get buried by snow...I ain't blaming the barkeep,but the barkeep as I've found is the medium to everyone else in a town." Strife finished,flicking his hood back so that its shadows no longer covered his pure white hair or the dozen or so scar's that adorned his shoulders and chest. His eyes shifted back to an ice blue and his pupil's returned to regular shape.
"If yer paying for breakfast and feel like helpin' me with this mess then I'm happy to have yer company mate." He said simply,leaning back and propping his feat up upon the table,the book grasped firmly between two of his finger's,his other hand lightly holding his jaw as he studied the suddenly very hurried and nearly illegible words of the dead man.
"Well, it is nice to meet you Strife. I am Mizaru Styx." As was commonplace for him, Mizaru remained as a formal and well spoken man. It mattered not to him who he spoke too, despite Strife's outburst, he'd still be treated with respect. It was a sight behold regardless of circumstances for these two. It was a well known fact that the forest dwelling High Elves, were almost always in some sort of war with the Dark Elves of the marsh lands. No one quite understood the feud that the races had, but suffice it to say relations were not good. Dark Elves were actively attacked on High Elf territory and the same applied the other way around. Mizaru had never quite understood the hate shared, and thus he gave everyone similar respect. There were only the few odd cases he'd actively insult someone, and that always fell down to nobility.
Mizaru took in a deep breath, savoring the crisp moutain air as the Inn's doors opened up to townsfolk, either coming or going. It felt good to be in such a setting, despite what was hidden beneath the scenes, the aesthetic appeal was there none-the-less. Something about being in the mountains, being somewhere where large groups of people would not frequent, and in a town where everything was understood, and thus chit chat was a minimum. He was quite partial to a good conversation himself, but the folks of this setting were, simple.. Not to say he didn't respect them, but they weren't on the same wave length as him.
Their food was shortly delivered, fairly simple things as luxuries were hard to come by in the back end of no where, but it was of a far better quality than the ale. The meat, bread and cheese at least had some taste. Mizaru said very little to begin with, feeding himself was the priority, as investigating wasn't pleasant on an empty stomach, especially considering what small amounts he'd eaten over the past few days. His ears dd however prick to mild conversation present in the back end of the room. It was barely audible but he noticed it all the time, amazingly. When he actually begun to speak once more, he hushed his tone, to one that only he and his new "mate" could hear. "When you have finished your food, I need you to leave. The two men in the back left side of this room are city guards. It appears they are not too pleased with your behavour, and as a result, mine. They intend to kill you.. I thought I should warn you to that, so that we might ambush them first." He said hushed, almost a whisper, acting as if nothing was happening. After all, he didn't exactly need to turn around and point them out, he was blind. What he did speak of however, was true. The townsfolk were keeping something very quiet, and it was because of that fact, that intrusion, especially the kind that slapped a bartender in the face with a book, was not welcome. They had a secret, it needed to remain hidden, and it would be if everyone had their way.
Mizaru took in a deep breath, savoring the crisp moutain air as the Inn's doors opened up to townsfolk, either coming or going. It felt good to be in such a setting, despite what was hidden beneath the scenes, the aesthetic appeal was there none-the-less. Something about being in the mountains, being somewhere where large groups of people would not frequent, and in a town where everything was understood, and thus chit chat was a minimum. He was quite partial to a good conversation himself, but the folks of this setting were, simple.. Not to say he didn't respect them, but they weren't on the same wave length as him.
Their food was shortly delivered, fairly simple things as luxuries were hard to come by in the back end of no where, but it was of a far better quality than the ale. The meat, bread and cheese at least had some taste. Mizaru said very little to begin with, feeding himself was the priority, as investigating wasn't pleasant on an empty stomach, especially considering what small amounts he'd eaten over the past few days. His ears dd however prick to mild conversation present in the back end of the room. It was barely audible but he noticed it all the time, amazingly. When he actually begun to speak once more, he hushed his tone, to one that only he and his new "mate" could hear. "When you have finished your food, I need you to leave. The two men in the back left side of this room are city guards. It appears they are not too pleased with your behavour, and as a result, mine. They intend to kill you.. I thought I should warn you to that, so that we might ambush them first." He said hushed, almost a whisper, acting as if nothing was happening. After all, he didn't exactly need to turn around and point them out, he was blind. What he did speak of however, was true. The townsfolk were keeping something very quiet, and it was because of that fact, that intrusion, especially the kind that slapped a bartender in the face with a book, was not welcome. They had a secret, it needed to remain hidden, and it would be if everyone had their way.
Strife eyed the beings out of the corner of his vision,grinning widely and offering a mocking nod to the barkeep who delivered his drinks. The ale was horrible but he didn't mind,he wasn't getting drunk anytime soon and the barkeep had done his job just fine. With a light chuckle as if Mizaru had said something funny in case someone saw his lips move, two gold coins slipped down his cloak-sleeve and into his palm, coins that were soon seen sailing towards the barkeep who,as the blundering big man he was, was barely able to catch them.
Strife closed the book gently and put it in his coat pocket, chugging one pint of ale easily and attempting to not spit it out in disgust,after-all that would insult the brewer something he'd never do...of course if the ale was poisoned that was another story. The elf pulled his legs off the table and leaned his elbows upon it instead, tugging affectionately at the silver necklace hanging around his throat before he spoke in a hushed tone,the grin never leaving his features. "Well mate,I have one thing to say to that....how do ye feel about fighting off a town of possible cultists until we find what they're hiding? Or would ye prefer that we go the stealthy and slow approach to this situation? I'm personally a fan o' both but I gotta admit, the fightin' sounds a lot simpler then havin' to sneak about and ambush simple murderers until we get the information we require." He said gruffly,keeping his tone quiet before leaning back again and pulling the hood over his head.
He only took small bites of the food,keeping the meeting going for as long as possible before people got suspicious of their reasons for simply sitting there. The scar upon his face glowed a burning orange in the shadow of his hood and his teeth gleamed along with it. He was unlike most folk,especially most folk in this little town, his pointy ear's that were concealed by his hair and the hood would prove that if they were not so expertly hidden to make him seem human. The only give away to his unusual nature were the hundreds of scars that adorned his body and his grin,a grin that held canines as sharp as any blade. A few drop's of blood staining the tips of each. The faint sound of metal clanking together would be heard as he dipped his hand into his coat pocket,his arm visibly tensing as the other continued to slowly place food into his maw. He had been eating well for awhile,and so didn't urgently need the meal.
Strife closed the book gently and put it in his coat pocket, chugging one pint of ale easily and attempting to not spit it out in disgust,after-all that would insult the brewer something he'd never do...of course if the ale was poisoned that was another story. The elf pulled his legs off the table and leaned his elbows upon it instead, tugging affectionately at the silver necklace hanging around his throat before he spoke in a hushed tone,the grin never leaving his features. "Well mate,I have one thing to say to that....how do ye feel about fighting off a town of possible cultists until we find what they're hiding? Or would ye prefer that we go the stealthy and slow approach to this situation? I'm personally a fan o' both but I gotta admit, the fightin' sounds a lot simpler then havin' to sneak about and ambush simple murderers until we get the information we require." He said gruffly,keeping his tone quiet before leaning back again and pulling the hood over his head.
He only took small bites of the food,keeping the meeting going for as long as possible before people got suspicious of their reasons for simply sitting there. The scar upon his face glowed a burning orange in the shadow of his hood and his teeth gleamed along with it. He was unlike most folk,especially most folk in this little town, his pointy ear's that were concealed by his hair and the hood would prove that if they were not so expertly hidden to make him seem human. The only give away to his unusual nature were the hundreds of scars that adorned his body and his grin,a grin that held canines as sharp as any blade. A few drop's of blood staining the tips of each. The faint sound of metal clanking together would be heard as he dipped his hand into his coat pocket,his arm visibly tensing as the other continued to slowly place food into his maw. He had been eating well for awhile,and so didn't urgently need the meal.
Mizaru was slow and steady with his consumption. The last thing he wanted was a cramp mid-fight.. That'd put a certain down on the situation. He agreed to the Elf's apparent notion that the two guards would be leaving on a cart, but was more of a fan of taking them out silently. Though it wasn't very evident, he could handle himself in a fight, and this town, full of fairly weak individuals would be nothing short of easy for him, but still.. If it were not needed, he would not fight. More to the point, he didn't want too, it was early, cold and he had a plan. Without a single word he stood himself up, brushing his clothes of the few odd crumbs from what was rather old bread. He didn't particularly enjoy his meal, but it was something at least, and he needed his strength.
"Wait here." He told his new friend, turning and walking, surprisingly, directly up to the guards. It was then, that it was noticed his eating utensils were not only missing, but had been replaced with a sharpening stone he'd been using. He head up to the guards, though walked past them, heading into a side room used as a bathroom. It was of course a mere front, allowing the guards to stand up, and approach who they now considered a lone man, who they assumed they could take.
They walked over, gripping two short swords they'd had settled next to their chairs, unsheathing them. With a brisk walk they approached the elf, one of the guards, who could only be described as "podgy" would be the first to speak.. or try. About all he managed was "hey you!" before Mizaru appeared behind him. With both hands, fork in one and knife in the other, he swung his arms around both men's necks, firmly implanting the fork into the right, and knife into the left, with a sickening squelch. By this time.. most of the patrons had left or were starting to leave. It became quite clear they were not accustomed to combat, and were rather making the mother of all misguided assumptions that the two guards could kill the elves.
They couldn't be blamed really for being naive, one looked like a drunk and the other was blind, but as they fell forward, spilling their crimson life liquid on the table, falling through the weak wood and onto the floor.. The mother of their mistakes was known. This was why Mizaru never dealt in uncertainties.
"Wait here." He told his new friend, turning and walking, surprisingly, directly up to the guards. It was then, that it was noticed his eating utensils were not only missing, but had been replaced with a sharpening stone he'd been using. He head up to the guards, though walked past them, heading into a side room used as a bathroom. It was of course a mere front, allowing the guards to stand up, and approach who they now considered a lone man, who they assumed they could take.
They walked over, gripping two short swords they'd had settled next to their chairs, unsheathing them. With a brisk walk they approached the elf, one of the guards, who could only be described as "podgy" would be the first to speak.. or try. About all he managed was "hey you!" before Mizaru appeared behind him. With both hands, fork in one and knife in the other, he swung his arms around both men's necks, firmly implanting the fork into the right, and knife into the left, with a sickening squelch. By this time.. most of the patrons had left or were starting to leave. It became quite clear they were not accustomed to combat, and were rather making the mother of all misguided assumptions that the two guards could kill the elves.
They couldn't be blamed really for being naive, one looked like a drunk and the other was blind, but as they fell forward, spilling their crimson life liquid on the table, falling through the weak wood and onto the floor.. The mother of their mistakes was known. This was why Mizaru never dealt in uncertainties.
Strife grinned as they slumped to the floor,having not even blinked at their drawn swords,nor their cut-off shout. He was used to blood and fools,neither fazed the elf or even seemingly put him off his ale. Which he finished completely in a matter of seconds,taking a long chug of the brew before slamming it down onto the table next to the remainder of his pathetic breakfast. For a guy who's eyes were covered the dark elf was decently co-ordinated. Strife snapped his fingers and watched as the crimson life that once lay inside the guards flowed through the air steadily,slowly absorbing into the silver cross that lay about his neck. The blood on the floor would eventually cease to be and even the bodies slowly melted away into blood that was soon absorbed.
The elf shrugged at the spectacle as all of the mess eventually became apart of his necklace, the grin having never left his face as the remaining patrons and barkeep stared on in horror. "What?, No point leaving a mess right?, unless ye'd like to clean it up yerself eh?" Strife teased the barkeep, his eyes shifting to pure black reflections of the abyss,his teeth sharpening as he continued to grin. He was a fan of scaring the odd person who annoyed him. He turned back to the dark elf assuming they couldn't see his transformation before he spoke.
"So what's the plan now?, I doubt with the amount of witnesses scurrying about the place we'll be able to sneak outta 'ere without a fight. By the time we finish this friendly chat the entire towns worth of guards'll be waiting outside...and generally when yer dealin' with possible cultists they have a few nasty trick's for us to have fun with." He said to Mizaru, pushing himself away from the table and chair with his elbow and standing up. Un-zipping his cloak slightly and reaching in to produce two long curved daggers and a katana that he placed in his mouth before zipping it back up.
Strife was not a fan of this town and nearing the edge of going blood-crazy. He was not a vampire of any kind,but the blood still called to him. Dared him to spill it upon the pure white snows of this puny town in the mountains of nowhere.
The elf shrugged at the spectacle as all of the mess eventually became apart of his necklace, the grin having never left his face as the remaining patrons and barkeep stared on in horror. "What?, No point leaving a mess right?, unless ye'd like to clean it up yerself eh?" Strife teased the barkeep, his eyes shifting to pure black reflections of the abyss,his teeth sharpening as he continued to grin. He was a fan of scaring the odd person who annoyed him. He turned back to the dark elf assuming they couldn't see his transformation before he spoke.
"So what's the plan now?, I doubt with the amount of witnesses scurrying about the place we'll be able to sneak outta 'ere without a fight. By the time we finish this friendly chat the entire towns worth of guards'll be waiting outside...and generally when yer dealin' with possible cultists they have a few nasty trick's for us to have fun with." He said to Mizaru, pushing himself away from the table and chair with his elbow and standing up. Un-zipping his cloak slightly and reaching in to produce two long curved daggers and a katana that he placed in his mouth before zipping it back up.
Strife was not a fan of this town and nearing the edge of going blood-crazy. He was not a vampire of any kind,but the blood still called to him. Dared him to spill it upon the pure white snows of this puny town in the mountains of nowhere.
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"I would rather we simply exit this place.." Mizaru said in a semi-dismissive manner. He couldn't care less if the bodies were left, a large portion of his being screamed to just leave the guards there on the floor, at least that way the townsfolk would see death that wasn't of a personal joy to them. Poetic justice in many ways but the deed was done and the floor clean.
He took the opportunity to listen to the outside. As predicted all they had the towns guard, or rather.. two more actual men with swords and a disgruntled bunch of miffed towns people with sticks and the like, they weren't of a dwelling where combat was needed. If anything the guards just exited to put stupid people with naught but muscle to an actual use, to give the illusion of safety to outsiders.. Unless of course they were on the personal hit list of the varying town's individuals. In that case, a grizzly death awaited, and the same would be for the elf, both dark and high alike. It didn't take eyes to know the force awaiting them was borderline pathetic, just from the voices you could tell people were cold and weary, though their hearts were into it, their bodies weren't accomodating the cold, most having rushed out without adequate coverings.
Mizaru stepped back, an errant rock being thrown through the window with a following scream of "Get out 'ere and face the town ya murders!" Murderers, perhaps.. But to be insulted with such a thing was laughable, as far as deaths went Mizaru was on two to one with people outside for the time being, but at least he'd been decent enough to make the kill quick.. About as quick as utensils would allow.
"Strife, these people are likely not about to let us leave through the front door. As much blood lust as you might have, I would prefer leaving as silently as possible.. That being the case I will leave it up to you, I simply take no joy in ending parent's lives."
He took the opportunity to listen to the outside. As predicted all they had the towns guard, or rather.. two more actual men with swords and a disgruntled bunch of miffed towns people with sticks and the like, they weren't of a dwelling where combat was needed. If anything the guards just exited to put stupid people with naught but muscle to an actual use, to give the illusion of safety to outsiders.. Unless of course they were on the personal hit list of the varying town's individuals. In that case, a grizzly death awaited, and the same would be for the elf, both dark and high alike. It didn't take eyes to know the force awaiting them was borderline pathetic, just from the voices you could tell people were cold and weary, though their hearts were into it, their bodies weren't accomodating the cold, most having rushed out without adequate coverings.
Mizaru stepped back, an errant rock being thrown through the window with a following scream of "Get out 'ere and face the town ya murders!" Murderers, perhaps.. But to be insulted with such a thing was laughable, as far as deaths went Mizaru was on two to one with people outside for the time being, but at least he'd been decent enough to make the kill quick.. About as quick as utensils would allow.
"Strife, these people are likely not about to let us leave through the front door. As much blood lust as you might have, I would prefer leaving as silently as possible.. That being the case I will leave it up to you, I simply take no joy in ending parent's lives."
"I would rather we simply exit this place.." Mizaru said in a semi-dismissive manner. He couldn't care less if the bodies were left, a large portion of his being screamed to just leave the guards there on the floor, at least that way the townsfolk would see death that wasn't of a personal joy to them. Poetic justice in many ways but the deed was done and the floor clean.
He took the opportunity to listen to the outside. As predicted all they had the towns guard, or rather.. two more actual men with swords and a disgruntled bunch of miffed towns people with sticks and the like, they weren't of a dwelling where combat was needed. If anything the guards just exited to put stupid people with naught but muscle to an actual use, to give the illusion of safety to outsiders.. Unless of course they were on the personal hit list of the varying town's individuals. In that case, a grizzly death awaited, and the same would be for the elf, both dark and high alike. It didn't take eyes to know the force awaiting them was borderline pathetic, just from the voices you could tell people were cold and weary, though their hearts were into it, their bodies weren't accomodating the cold, most having rushed out without adequate coverings.
Mizaru stepped back, an errant rock being thrown through the window with a following scream of "Get out 'ere and face the town ya murders!" Murderers, perhaps.. But to be insulted with such a thing was laughable, as far as deaths went Mizaru was on two to one with people outside for the time being, but at least he'd been decent enough to make the kill quick.. About as quick as utensils would allow.
"Strife, these people are likely not about to let us leave through the front door. As much blood lust as you might have, I would prefer leaving as silently as possible.. That being the case I will leave it up to you, I simply take no joy in ending parent's lives."
He took the opportunity to listen to the outside. As predicted all they had the towns guard, or rather.. two more actual men with swords and a disgruntled bunch of miffed towns people with sticks and the like, they weren't of a dwelling where combat was needed. If anything the guards just exited to put stupid people with naught but muscle to an actual use, to give the illusion of safety to outsiders.. Unless of course they were on the personal hit list of the varying town's individuals. In that case, a grizzly death awaited, and the same would be for the elf, both dark and high alike. It didn't take eyes to know the force awaiting them was borderline pathetic, just from the voices you could tell people were cold and weary, though their hearts were into it, their bodies weren't accomodating the cold, most having rushed out without adequate coverings.
Mizaru stepped back, an errant rock being thrown through the window with a following scream of "Get out 'ere and face the town ya murders!" Murderers, perhaps.. But to be insulted with such a thing was laughable, as far as deaths went Mizaru was on two to one with people outside for the time being, but at least he'd been decent enough to make the kill quick.. About as quick as utensils would allow.
"Strife, these people are likely not about to let us leave through the front door. As much blood lust as you might have, I would prefer leaving as silently as possible.. That being the case I will leave it up to you, I simply take no joy in ending parent's lives."
Strife shrugged and bit down hard on the Katana handle within his sharpened maw,his eyes shifting back to their normal cold blue hues. The elf took two steps towards the rock and sent it flying across the room with a swift kick. The rock eventually thumping into the spine of the fleeing barkeep who seemed to be on his way out...or was on his way out.
"I hear ya,I hear ya. That makes two of us mate" He grumbled,albeit it slightly muffled through his clenched teeth and the Katana's handle, seeming to see reason as he began to lower his weapons. That is until the grin returned once more and within the blink of an eye he had tightened his jaw once more and pulled his arms up in a cross formation infront of his torso,apparently to shield him as he sprinted from where he'd wandered to. The back of the room. Eventually leaping onto the table and diving through the window,landing heavily upon the snowy ground hands first,launching himself up into a crouching position before with a deep chuckle sending himself hurling into the small crowd.
It was a massacre,within the first seconds The blade in his right hand was biting through the torso of one of the ill-clothed citizens,the blade in his left finding it's way into the skull of a young woman. The Katana seemed to be merely for show until he arched his spin back,blocking one of the two remaining guards sword with ease,allowing Strife to twist his weapons free and send them both into the ribs of the man. Tearing them out and walking around in a small circle,roaring and raising his arms as if he'd just won some kind of championship. Before finally turning his eyes back to the assumedly terrified inhabitants,A laugh echoed loudly and within merely half a minute blood had been spread across the snow,smeared along the inn's outer walls and not a single man or woman remained alive. All of their corpses mutilated and torn apart by the Wood-elf.
He soon strode back into the inn,his cloak soaked in blood that soon absorbed into his necklace,leaving a spot on his glove that he licked off with an elongated tongue. "Unfortunately mate,I prefer not to let twisted bastard's spawn more children,Tis my code. Yet people wonder why I ain't got kids." He commented,fully expecting Mizaru to send a blade through his stomache. Having sheathed all of his within his cloak.
"I hear ya,I hear ya. That makes two of us mate" He grumbled,albeit it slightly muffled through his clenched teeth and the Katana's handle, seeming to see reason as he began to lower his weapons. That is until the grin returned once more and within the blink of an eye he had tightened his jaw once more and pulled his arms up in a cross formation infront of his torso,apparently to shield him as he sprinted from where he'd wandered to. The back of the room. Eventually leaping onto the table and diving through the window,landing heavily upon the snowy ground hands first,launching himself up into a crouching position before with a deep chuckle sending himself hurling into the small crowd.
It was a massacre,within the first seconds The blade in his right hand was biting through the torso of one of the ill-clothed citizens,the blade in his left finding it's way into the skull of a young woman. The Katana seemed to be merely for show until he arched his spin back,blocking one of the two remaining guards sword with ease,allowing Strife to twist his weapons free and send them both into the ribs of the man. Tearing them out and walking around in a small circle,roaring and raising his arms as if he'd just won some kind of championship. Before finally turning his eyes back to the assumedly terrified inhabitants,A laugh echoed loudly and within merely half a minute blood had been spread across the snow,smeared along the inn's outer walls and not a single man or woman remained alive. All of their corpses mutilated and torn apart by the Wood-elf.
He soon strode back into the inn,his cloak soaked in blood that soon absorbed into his necklace,leaving a spot on his glove that he licked off with an elongated tongue. "Unfortunately mate,I prefer not to let twisted bastard's spawn more children,Tis my code. Yet people wonder why I ain't got kids." He commented,fully expecting Mizaru to send a blade through his stomache. Having sheathed all of his within his cloak.
Mizaru did nothing of the sort. He was of course disgusted at what had happened, but it solved a problem that even he had to admit was getting to be a bother. He would have prefered to slip out quietly, and as remnants of the guards and towns folk flooded in, it was clear that their blood lust was not only stupid, but at a similar level to Strife's, at least at that moment.
Mizaru stepped backwards, he didn't want to have to fight, perhaps due to tiredness or a simple desire for a more relaxing evening, more relaxing in comparison to others that was. Over all for an average person his life would cause a heart attack, a mental break down or both, but for him.. just not killing was like a warm day at the beach. As the barkeep lurched forward, dashing through the doors with a newly acquired rake in hand, his attempt was laughable to say the least. Mizaru merely stepped forwards, kicking the man's legs out from under him. Whilst in the air and no doubt admitting to himself that his attack was ridiculous in it's form and power, the barkeep found a dark elf hand on the base of his neck, forcing him down into the cold wooden floor. After that, and with a sickening squelch, Mizaru found his long sword glistening as his new partners katanas had been, as it's sharpened tip pierced through the man's spine, separating two vertebrate and his spinal collumn, before going through and into his chest cavity, bursting his heart with ease. The sword almost screamed as the man's life was ended, perhaps bone on metal was the cause, but it sounded horrific none-the-less.
"There is something wrong with these villagers, and before you say it, it is not just stupidity and a thirst for blood. I believe your methods to be too savage for my liking, lacking in proper finesse, but ending their lives is perhaps for the best. These are dark folk." Dark folk, quite the laughable term for some, and one often mistaken for racial slang for dark elves or coloured humans. It was nothing of the sort. As Strife had left his crowd of fun before witnessing, it'd soon be demonstrated by the dead barkeep what a dark folk was.
His blood, that satisfying crimson liquid oozed across the floor boards. It seemed to carry on forever, but as it did so, it became apparent it wasn't about to stop. The liquid turned from red to a black, the kind that even light was scared off, the kind that a billion shadows could not replicate. From that disgusting turn it rose up, the barkeep having died he was soon to be replaced, by two figures, crystalising from the black blood and forming to what looked like obsidian soldiers, minus the armour but plus large claymore swords. "This is why I did not want to kill."
Mizaru stepped backwards, he didn't want to have to fight, perhaps due to tiredness or a simple desire for a more relaxing evening, more relaxing in comparison to others that was. Over all for an average person his life would cause a heart attack, a mental break down or both, but for him.. just not killing was like a warm day at the beach. As the barkeep lurched forward, dashing through the doors with a newly acquired rake in hand, his attempt was laughable to say the least. Mizaru merely stepped forwards, kicking the man's legs out from under him. Whilst in the air and no doubt admitting to himself that his attack was ridiculous in it's form and power, the barkeep found a dark elf hand on the base of his neck, forcing him down into the cold wooden floor. After that, and with a sickening squelch, Mizaru found his long sword glistening as his new partners katanas had been, as it's sharpened tip pierced through the man's spine, separating two vertebrate and his spinal collumn, before going through and into his chest cavity, bursting his heart with ease. The sword almost screamed as the man's life was ended, perhaps bone on metal was the cause, but it sounded horrific none-the-less.
"There is something wrong with these villagers, and before you say it, it is not just stupidity and a thirst for blood. I believe your methods to be too savage for my liking, lacking in proper finesse, but ending their lives is perhaps for the best. These are dark folk." Dark folk, quite the laughable term for some, and one often mistaken for racial slang for dark elves or coloured humans. It was nothing of the sort. As Strife had left his crowd of fun before witnessing, it'd soon be demonstrated by the dead barkeep what a dark folk was.
His blood, that satisfying crimson liquid oozed across the floor boards. It seemed to carry on forever, but as it did so, it became apparent it wasn't about to stop. The liquid turned from red to a black, the kind that even light was scared off, the kind that a billion shadows could not replicate. From that disgusting turn it rose up, the barkeep having died he was soon to be replaced, by two figures, crystalising from the black blood and forming to what looked like obsidian soldiers, minus the armour but plus large claymore swords. "This is why I did not want to kill."
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Strife Bloodrose
Strife is an alcoholic but extremelly kind elf, one who spends many a day studying,drinking or fighting.
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10 posts · 3 characters present · last post 2013-07-22 11:33:43 »
Albion Owner: PhantomDespair
Welcome to the world.
2 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2013-07-14 12:18:43 »
Albion ↪ Frostpeak Owner: PhantomDespair
Welcome to Frostpeak, our town is small and the cold is bitter, but our ale is warm, and our women are too.
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I am blinded.
by PhantomDespair on Thu Jun 20, 2013 5:11 am
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I am blinded.
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I am blinded.
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