Scarkim

A layer of thick emerald grass covered the hills of Mintold, the autumn breeze caressed Rafien's body as it raced across the terrain. Simply admiring the beautiful landscape that he immersed himself in, Rafien took in the majestic sight that only those who have never seen Mintold can experience. Having not ever left Endune until now, he crossed the boarder into the first new country on his agenda. Rafien stood 5'6" tall, and weighed approximately 195 lbs. His brown hair was short except for the two braids that touched his upper back. The depths of is light blue eyes portrayed a strong and honest man. From the brink of his shoulders down to the bottom of his feet was completely covered. Battered armor coated his shoulders, and continued down to the side of his legs. Having armor that was tarnished and old, and not being able to afford what most would consider nice armor, Rafien had been looked down upon by those he came into contact with. A white shirt escaped around his collar bone and stomach, it hugged him tightly as to allow his build to be seen from a distance. His beaten, and faded tan pants stretched from his waste to rest on the top of his boots. across his collarbone and back rested a satchel with some personal belongings.

Black and thin was the strap that rested upon Rafien's shoulder thus holding the "Grey Raven." A unique sword that once belonged to his deceased brother Etian, the hilt called the country of Mintold home, as for the fact it was forged using the metals from Mintold's mines. The bottom of the swords blade is serrated allowing cuts to be made in a saw like motion. The rest of the blade-edge was perfect as if Grey Raven had left the blacksmith the day prior. The hilt was also longer than intended because this weapon was not intended for him, his brother's hand size lead to the hilt of the "Raven" being 4 inches longer than he would have liked. Though it was a hardship to overcome, this gave his fighting style individuality as new maneuvers were now possible that couldn't have been achieved otherwise. The final touch on the temper line was a quote from Etian's sensei "If your sword is too short, add to it's length by taking one step forward."

Raifen closed his eyes as if to simply enjoy the breeze, for never having experienced a painless wind while growing up in Endune. He could feel as his two braids moved in the wind and tickled his back through his shirt. For the first time in a long time Rafien felt at peace. Reaching into his satchel he gently removed his brothers journal. Rereading the last excerpt from it he renewed his determination and began to walk north to the capital. After all he was not here to enjoy himself but to give his brother's death meaning as he continued his investigation of the mysterious killings that manifested across Scarkim.
Maneuvering through the hills and light vegetation of Mintold, the capital city slowly crept into view. Beautiful was the only word strong enough to describe the elegant but strong architecture of the city walls. Having grown up hearing stories about the citizens of Mintold and their extensive abilities using rock Mediere, he had expected greatness but this was on a whole other level.

The doctor burps and licks his lips.
Ew, tastes like blood.
"That's weird, never ate anything before.."
He has just awaken on a peaceful hillside. He has no recollection of coming to this place but he is breathless as
he takes in the beauty of it. The reality of the situation sets in as he sees that the stark green of the grass has
been stained by a beautifully contrasting red of blood. It looks freshly spilled. The sight of blood seems not to
bother him at all; at least no more than the corpses of the pack horse and servant.
"Gotta find my back pack and get the hell out of here before anyone finds me."
A flash of pain waves through his head. Ruketsa is quite dehydrated and knows that he is responsible for their deaths.
He searches through horse entrails scattered around the area and finds the back pack. He curses about being covered
in blood.
"Ruined such nice clothes."
It seems all his belongings are still in the backpack. Whew. Ruketsa draws his flask from his coat pocket and looks
inside. The bottom of the brandy flask is visible so he frowns. Instead he looks around for part of the servant's cadaver. He had a water canteen
tied to his belt. Ruketsa drinks from the canteen and washes off the majority of the blood then throws the
canteen back to the ground.
He removes a black silk cloak from the backpack and pulls some grass from the ground to wrap around the glass
instruments in the backpack.
The doctor has grown so accustomed to the heat of the Gar'And savannah that the cool air in this country is
quite relieving. He tries focusing on his surroundings to keep his mind off things. His new focus brings him to realize
that the grandiose capital is not far away. Ruketsa takes the servant's hunting knife from the corpse.
He dons the black cloak so that he can cover the blood-stains on his clothes and retreats the scene headed to the capital.
Paranoid, he looks in all directions ensuring that no one has seen him run.

"I need to buy some new clothes, and see if I can't hire someone to help me find these ingredients. I've traveled far
enough... somehow... Maybe I can find a lead in the city that knows where I can find one of these birds, or if any have heard of the petrification relieving salve."
He silently praises some almighty power that for now he cannot hear the voices. The tincture must be keeping the
symptoms away for now. "I need to hurry while I can or I'll be acting odd again. Damn, I only have 100 gold pieces...
Someone would think I was a peasant!" He laughs, no one would ever think that.

The hustle bustle of the capital is overwhelmingly unsettling. It wasn't being surrounded by poor people that was so
bothersome, but that they reeked as if never owning a finely refined bottle of fragrance. He is trying to maneuver
the streets without bumping into others which is proving to be outright impossible. His face shows more disgust
with each person that he touches. He sees countless vendors line the edge of the roads, but none seem to have dyed clothes. Much less anything with any real comfort. There is a pub in the distance, so Ruketsa stops in
his tracks debating whether a drink is worth sitting in such a shabby looking establishment.
Someone runs directly into him while he is debating this dilemna.
*Slam*
"Ow! Watch where the hell you're going!" He turns and watches the unknown individual run seemingly effortlessly through the crowd.

He shoves his way towards the pub and sucks up his reluctance to ignore all the people here. He begins inquiring about where he can find clothes and some brandy.
No luck.
Dr. Pryde is staring at his own reflection in a shop window. He smiles at first, short and lithe. Only5'9" and 125 lbs. No one around here has had much difficult pushing him out of their way. His pale skin and green eyes always captivate his attention. Some kind of self infatuation and before he knows it, the reflection returns to the misshapen form he has been seeing since this whole mess began.
He hears another voice desperate for a drink.
"At last, now it's time to drink!"

The thought of getting a drink was alluring to ruketsa but he reasons that he can probably find help for hire as well.
He ducks into the pub, and can't help but choke on smoke and dust.
Dr. Pryde looks intimidated by the people here and takes quite a while to make his way to the bar. It looks like he might be right about finding a mercenary or guide.
"Please tell me you serve wine in this establishment barkeep"

Sayuri walked around quitely. Her pale hands were holding her mother's ring. The diamond was huge and very beautiful she had no memory of her mum but she must of been a good person to have such a beautiful ring. She knew her father and he had been a rich man and he had many paintings and pictures of his wife. The portraits made Sayuri's mother look beautiful her mother had been kind according to Jack her father. Her mother was called Evengeline and had been very popular amoung the people here but she herself never knew her own mum it made Sayuri wonder if she ever had children would they know her?
She put the thoughts of her past behind her and put the necklace back on. Sayuri headed on to find a pub so she could get a drink to quench her sore throat. She started walking on and thinking happy thoughts of anything she found happy.

Sayuri walked around quitely. Her pale hands were holding her mother's ring. The diamond was huge and very beautiful she had no memory of her mum but she must of been a good person to have such a beautiful ring. She knew her father and he had been a rich man and he had many paintings and pictures of his wife. The portraits made Sayuri's mother look beautiful her mother had been kind according to Jack her father. Her mother was called Evengeline and had been very popular amoung the people here but she herself never knew her own mum it made Sayuri wonder if she ever had children would they know her?
She put the thoughts of her past behind her and put the necklace back on. Sayuri headed on to find a pub so she could get a drink to quench her sore throat. She started walking on and thinking happy thoughts of anything she found happy.

Antoni smiled as he played with his necklace. It was beatiful, well it was to him at least. It was sectioned, with small, barely seen lines seperating each piece of gold from the other. It was the last thing which connected him with his true home, that and his abilites. He sighed then as he remembered his old home in the mediere quarries, the people, old and young, that he had made friends with, his mother and father, kind and hard-working, then himself as he learned to use rock mediere.
He continued thinking, his mind in a blissful embrace of memories when suddenly he heard the sound of someone saying something. The words were gurgled and not understandable at first but then they became more urgent and as Antoni finnaly focused he was shocked at the loudness of a man's voice.

"Antoni!! You're gonna burn yourself!" Antoni jumped back when he heard this, dropping the white hot piece of metal he had been crafting onto the floor and seeing as it hissed slightly before starting to cool down. His friend, and another blacksmith, Roman, sighed with relief as he walked over from his side of the workshop. "What were you doing, you could have really hurt yourself!" he almost shouted, his tone angry for a while then stopping as he visibly slumped and looked at Antoni with an exsaperated gaze, relatovely normal for him "be careful will you..."
"Sorry Roman" Antoni said, his tone apolgetic. At least he wasn't getting a lecture today.

Roman and Antoni had been working together for a year now and in that time both of them had established a good friendship with the other. Roman was older than Antoni at 24 but really you wouldn't guess it from the way he acted on occasion.
"...It's okay... thinking about the quarries again?" Roman said.
Roman, unlike many people Antoni had met, knew the most about his past, or at least as much as the generals of the Minthold army did. In short he was a previous quarry worker who had used rock mediere from a forbidden age. He wasn't detained but was instead barred from seeing any of the quarry workers ever again without a pardon from the ruler of Minthold and was set to work as a blacksmith. He also works in the army as a fighter and occasionaly is allowed to travel to other areas most fighters can't go to as a kind of scout. That was all he knew or needed to know.
Roman himself was quite normal, started as an apprentice and moved up slowly to becoming a blacksmith.

"Maybe" Antoni said, smiling a bit, his tone becoming slightly more uplifting again as he said "it's just been a little boring lately"
"It probably won't be like this for much longer you know" Roman said, more serious than Antoni had expected.
"Yeah... i know" Everyone knew a war was coming and maybe a reason Roman was serious when it came to that subject was when that time came Antoni would leave and fight for Minthold as his service contract stated.

Vohen, only recently came to this city, was searching for the nearest Tavern. "Dammit!" "Why in the bloody hell I cannot find me a Tavern!?" "I have been at sea fer months and the damn captain couldn't think to give me a single drop of ale!" Obviously annoyed, Vohen searched hastily for signs of a Tavern. Instead of finding a place to drink he instead heard all of the clamor down the street. Yelling about stealing and about witches. Vohen when up to the nearest citizen and asked, "Oy! do ye know where I can find me a Tavern!? I'm quite dry 'ere!" Unfortunately Vohen really had no such thing as an inside voice and his boisterous manner frightened the citizen into crying, "Please don't hurt me! Take what you want!!!" Confused by his response Vohen said, "Oy! What do ya mean take what I want?" "All I want is to find a Tavern, that is what I asked for!" Citizen still misreading Vohen cowered before him still screaming, "Don't hurt me, don't chop off my head." The poor guy was making a scene and was drawing uncessary attention to the blonde haired northerner. As people stared some of them were worried, Vohen's appearance did seem to make him out to be barbaric. Vohen stood at a staggering 6'7 and is heavily muscled, complete with chainmail and Shike fur pelts that adorned his shoulders and backside, luckily the pelts mostly hid Agniulfr, his greataxe, otherwise people may make him out to be some sort of invader. "Ugh, I don't understand ye people of the southern countries, I merely ask fer directions and I have someone crying at me feet." Vohen scratches his hair underneath his Father's plate helmet, in confusion. "Maybe I should leave ya to ye mournin'." Vohen backed away as he continued his desparate search for a Tavern.

Finally Vohen's search comes to a grand end. "AT LAST!!!" Vohen seemed to be on the edge of crying as he sees the words "PUB" on a sign above a door. "NOW ITS TIME TO DRINK!!!" Vohen charges for the pub as other civilians wise enough jumped out of the way of the sprinting northerner. Vohen, unceremoniously enters the pub. Vohen looks about the entire pub as he sees many different groups of people. Yet Vohen's eyes landed directly at the bar. He makes his steps throught the pub as he moves between tables as people have to get up since he takes up quite a bit of space. "Oh sorry, pardon me." He said as he pushed his way through the smoke and crowd as he comes up to the bar and asks,

"Oy! Bartender! I like a pint of ye ale!" Vohen exclaimed. The Bartender looking almost nervously at the northerner and said, "S-sure coming right up." He hurries to fulfill his order just to avoid being harmed. The Bartender slides down the pint as Vohen greedily takes the beverage and slurps it down with much gusto. "AH! Thats better!" "Another!" Vohen abruptly askes. Taking his order another pint of ale shows up in his hands.

(2 pints/ -8 gold)?

Romel wandered through the vast Mintold capital, deep in thought over his predicament. The caravan leader had told him that the foreigner had come from Mintold, the capitan of the ship had told him that a similar sounding traveler had said that he hailed from the Mintold capital. However, Romel had not expected it to be this hard to find who he was looking for. There were so many people here, many more than Romel had ever seen in one place. Now he had started to doubt that his plan of simply searching faces until he found the right one was not going to work.

So now he was at a loss, he had not expected it to be this hard. Nor, had he expected it to be this hot. The heat from the sun bore down on him like that of a bonfire. He was unaccustomed to it and it was uncomfortable. He missed the biting wind against his chest. The sting of small snow particles as they struck his skin. Being outside was like being inside and being inside was like being in the sun itself. No, he did not like this climate.

So he walked through the city, deep in his thoughts. Trying to come up with idea of how to find his brother’s killer. Trying to ignore the annoying and strange climate. Growing more and more annoyed with each step. Until, that is, his shoulder bumped into someone, sending them to the ground.

Romel, unfazed, continued on. Hardly noticing the encounter. The small group of men, having recently been scared off by a guard after making a scene a the local tavern, were also not keen on looking where they were going. The man on the edge of the small group got up quickly yelling “I’ll kill you sonofabich watch…..” he trialed off as Romel turned around to face him, the warrior tribesman's appearance enough to shut him up.

Romel stalked back toward the man and the group. The man’s hostile tone had gotten his attention, he had finally found himself a distraction. “Hey….” The man started in a soothing tone. “My bad I…” The man was interrupted as Romel kicked forward, striking the man in the knee with his heel. The mans knee bent backward and was accompanied by a sickening crack. He immediately started to scream, but was stopped as Romel’s fist hit him squarely on the side of his head. Knocking him to the ground. Jarred, the man crumpled into the ground as only a soft moan escaped from his lips.

Unfinished, Romel used his foot to turn the man onto his back. Then he laid his metal clad boot across the moaning man’s throat and slowly began to apply pressure. Gurgling sounds started to come from the mans throat as he waived his hand in the air, trying to grasp the foot.

“Hey get off my brother!” A cry erupted from another of the men, as they were now squarely focused on the scene playing before them. A few of them had begun to back away slowly, hoping that the strangely clad man who was now suffocating their friend did not see them. The man who had shouted however, motivated by the pain of his kin, rushed at Romel. The man thrust his upper body forward, planning on tackling Romel off of his brother.

Romel was tipped off by the exclamation however, and managed to pivot, shifting his weight on the downed man’s throat. Romel ended up, in essence, close-lining the attacker with the spiked section of his gauntlet that covered his forearm. The man fell to the ground much in the same fashion as his brother, clutching his now broken and bleeding face while he cried out in pain.

Romel smiled under his helmet as he continued applying pressure to the downed man‘s throat. Yes, this was proving to be a good distraction for him.

From the crest of a grassy hill, Maros looked down upon a small village. He was only coming into town to get himself a new bowstring, as he'd recently broken his current one while out hunting. He looked around himself and then knelt to the ground, his fingers brushing the tops of the long green grass. A smile passed over his face as he felt a warm wind rush over the fields and him. He looked back at the copse of trees he'd camped in.

"I'll come back, my friends. Do not worry about that." He chuckled gently and then started down a slightly-worn path to the village, his eyes lazily scanning the area around him as he moved.

The wind picked up slightly, ruffling Maros' brown hair playfully. He felt one with nature just then, despite the fact that he hadn't even activated the Mediere in his right arm that day. He released a contented sigh, only to see a speck in the distance. Maros, never one to pay much attention to his directions, had been traveling South at the time, and he was just seeing Rafien coming North.

"Hail, friend, and good travels to you," he cried to the young-looking man, his hand raised in greeting. He would have used both, but his other hand was occupied with holding an odd-looking staff, its gnarled end wrapped around a smooth, green stone.

"Oi Sir the Dragoon Squad Alpha is here to um...investigate."

Before the regular guard captain could respond, two large men swept into the alleyway like menacing brutes on a war path. The shade gave way to a colder breeze, gravel left scattered on the ground. Grey, and polished the two men pushed the guards to the side, giving way for another. A man tall and slender, stepped into the darkened silhouette of the nearby Inn.

He strode forward as he nodded off to the two guards that entered the lifeless alley before him. His armor was resilient, almost a steel color. It's structure was toppled over one plate of stone after the other. Jutting spikes flew out from his dragon like helm, a sham of white. His arms held the same color as his helm as the armor extended to his knuckles, his rib cage the only other thing covered by his Dragoon armor.

At his side rested a angular crafted white hilt, made of Mintold own stone. Concealing his true weapon, a sheathe, Black and made of pure onyx went dark in the shade. A giant metal sword rested sideways at his back as his black boots planted into the ground. Gravel breaking under the pressure of his foot, Jin's gentle purple eyes scanned the ground. A dull red tainting the cracks of the stone made cobblestone a few feet in front of him, the Mintold captain standing to the side to greet him.

"Mister Jin Kisaragi, sir..." Hesitation rasped in the man's throat, dryness from the cold weather, more so from Jin's appearance. "This is the sixth one this week, and some we might not even know about.." The captain turned to the stream of blood leading behind a large stack of barrels, filled with the finest wine of Mintold. Jin grinned his mouth still visible the captain backed away, Jin proceeding forward to inspect the hidden body.

The two guards that came with him moved to the are Jin had just left, turning their back to Jin as they blocked off the alleyway. Approaching the large barrels Jin lightly smiled, his thoughts swirling for an answer for the location. Extending his right arm forward his fingers grazed the wooden barrels, rough and old, Jin snatched his fingers back as he turned. Her long hair had been spread out, grey and dry from the exposure of the natural world's elements. Her face had sunk into a decomposing phase, her skull slightly visible, starting from her jaw up to her eyes.

Jin quickly knelt to inspect the area closer, his unmatched vibrant lilac eyes searching for a clue. He had been put on this task for one purpose, everyone else that had been inspecting the deaths, were also killed. Jin being highly skilled in combat, and tactical when it came to survival was the perfect candidate. It had been the third body since he was chosen for the job, a job he was slowly starting to think the killer wanted him to take part in. The criminal was getting too comfortable, too smart.

A pool of blood wrapped around the young woman, soaked and the smell of decease. Jin touched the the blood lightly, his eyes absorbing the dull red. Then bending farther over he grabbed her hair, lifting lightly he checked under her head. His eyes caught something before placing her head back down, a locket with a long metal string, drenched in her pool of blood. Sliding his left hand under he latched onto it, slowly releasing her head with his other arm. His black gloves stinging with wetness.

A locket? First thing I've found since the murders. What else could this bastard be hiding? He's definitely not an idiot, so why leave the locket? Did someone see him in the act...Ugh this is getting tiring, between patrols and this, what's next. He used the wine barrels as a cover, knowing her mutilated appendage would cause a stream of blood, much like the color wine. I'm on to you, whoever you are..

Turning away from the body his head tilted back as his deep, soft voice slipped through the cold air.

"May you rest peaceful, sister."

Jin waving his hands at the two guards, spit. The sun piercing through the shadows of hidden crevice, the alleyway lighting up as jin approached the captain.

"I found this, make sure your men watch closely tonight, I've got a bad feeling." Jin's voice came out like a viper, suffocating those around him with his power. His right hand clenching onto the locket, walked away, blood dropping to the ground as the necklace swung back and forth as he walked. Reaching the end of the scene he found himself before a bustling crowd of traders, and tourists. Music, hammer, and yelling all mixed in. Jin tucking the necklace in his side pocket grinned, the sight of a conflict in his streets by foreigner.

Jin slithered by the first few trading posts before catching a better view, a brolly man, suited and ready for combat. He looked easily a heavy set of three hundred pounds, Jin might have been wrong. his eyes scanned as the man placed his foot upon one of the scoundrels throats, tossing another to the ground with a talented close-line. Jin walked out from the commotion and stood in the brooding sun, no affect to the blistering autumn cold. the light gave way to the color of Jin's broadsword, a rusty brown with a glaze of steel peaking through. The crowd veered away from him as Jin set his eyes on the back of the newly interesting visitor.

"Tsk, Tsk...Playing with men like that, you'll get no satisfaction, However regardless of their thug-like attitude and horrible fighting prowess, i suggest you take your foot off that man's throat, now..." His calm voice chimed into a vicious, cold demand. His eyes went still. His right arm resting on the hilt of his father's pride, Lotus.

Mintold's capital drew ever near, while taking in the beauty of the foreign land a man wondered over the hill, with what appeared to be a cane or staff for combat or support. This man seemed different, the design of his clothes seemed to hint at the fact he was a foreigner. If he was on level ground with this incoming identity they would be eye level, but this man was standing on the hillside. Not feeling safe, Rafien began to wonder the intentions of this stranger, not being from this country might mean several things. Before jumping to conclusion Rafien remembered he too was an outsider to Mintold, conclusions should not be made on those he knows nothing about. Just as he was going to say something to the figure the man called out to him. Waving one of his arms in the air, suddenly this presence was less threatening. Not wanting to lower his guard to soon Rafien decided to reply in a sensible manner.

"And good travels to you as well," Rafien said gauging the response of his new acquaintance. As the gap between them shrunk Rafien realized that this stick was not a walking cane as he originally thought, but a staff, something about staffs and other unique weapons rubbed him the wrong way. A sword can come from only a certain number of directions, a staff or weapon made to channel Mediere as if it were an extension of the person was more concerning. Stopping about 10 feet from the person Rafien decided to gather a little more information.

"Seems you, like I, am a foreigner of Mintold. I am actually heading just up ahead to the capital, what business have you in Mintold friend?" Rafien asked trying not to give off an aggressive or too friendly vibe. Conflict this early would not end well for anyone in these types of situations. The best thing to do keep your guard up and hope for the best. With any luck at all this man would just be traveling through on his way to sell goods or visit distant land. Rafien hoped that this person would not be aggressive for he simple facts that fighting so close to the capital would draw unnecessary attention and he wished to stay under the radar. Not that Rafien was not a talented fighter but he did not wish to simply fight anyone but those he felt needed to die.

(Sorry just read the posting order.)

Maros stepped lightly through the swaying grasses, smiling gently as they seemed to leans towards him as he passed. He trailed his free hand absently through the taller bits and what few bushes were on his way, but otherwise he did nothing as he approached Rifien. He looked over the man, noting the large blade and various bits of armor that he wore. Maros, no novice to battle, recognized that if he were to fight her and now, he would likely lose. Then again, the seemingly simplistic man really had no reason to fight, as Rifien had done nothing to provoke him, nor had he done anything to harm the wild. Not that Maros knew of, that is.

"My business in Mintold? Is that where I am? Huh. Anyways, I'm simply coming out of the wild to stock up on some supplies like salt and other such things that I cannot find in the forests. If you'd like, I can travel in with you. Two people out together are less suspicious than two individual wandering, in these times." He chuckled and then tucked the staff through the straps of his medium-sized pack, letting it rest between the leather and his back so that his hands were free.

"Trust me, I'd rather just get in and out, rather than be picked on by some bored city guard. Knowing them, they'd likely stop you, but if we enter together and get stopped, I can say I hired you to protect me as I traveled, since I only have this fancy staff of mine. I would have my bow, but I left it at camp..." He trailed off, growing slightly whimsical and light with his voice, almost as if he weren't all there, mentally. It was, in fact, very close to the truth, though he was feeling a slight current in his mind that was similar tot he currents of plant growth around him.