Snippet #980520

Concordia: Training Chambers

Sounds of battle could be heard echoing from the nearly empty chamber, save for the man that stood at it's center, sparring with a dummy, his fists pounding into the material, the thrill of battle pulsing through his veins. Suddenly a guard jogged up to him and waited for him to acknowledge him. When Kiel finally turned to look at the somewhat frightened man, he simply rolled his eyes, "Speak your mind, peasant, or take your leave of me. You imbecilic celebration is of no concern to me. All those fools enjoying their merriment. Sickening. I crave battle, dammit!" He yelled this last part, breathing fire on the dummy and lighting it. The guard took a step back in fear, but regained his composure.

"Sir, the lord has summoned you. There seems to be...to be a problem." He stuttered, remembering the scene at the speech.

Kiel raised a scaly eyebrow, "Indeed? I wonder what yon king doth want from me?" He said with a smirk, turning on his heel and putting his robe back on over his wings, swinging his tail dangerously close to guards ankles. His footfalls echoed in the otherwise deserted hallways. Kiel couldn't help but wonder what exactly had the king so furious. At least it was something interesting, as opposed to the usual boring idiocy that plagued the land otherwise. Maybe a rebellion was forming, as Scythe had predicted? That would be fun. Or how about some civil dispute? That would be fun too, especially if he got to roast a few people. He licked his teeth with anticipation. It wasn't long before he stumbled upon the king, all gussied up for his speech. In comparison, Kiel's robes were bland and completely unremarkable; they even managed to have some tears and scorch marks in them, "You have need of me, my lord?" He asked, his tone one of arrogant knowing. But there was also the glint of violence. He wanted to fight again. And to fight someone worthy, "Please tell me there is someone in need of killing."

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Concordia: A Pub

Reicha sat back in her chair, enjoying the ale. She had just turned in a recent bounty and she was spending the "Independence Day" celebrating. Besides, there were no new bounties up, so a day of rest wouldn't hurt. Besides, the ale was good here. She only hoped that nobody caught wind of her. There were undesirable people here and there that wanted her dead, and a day like today was a perfect day to strike. At least, that's how she saw it. Though, she was good at what she did. Even the League itself didn't know she was here....did they?

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Earth: Ireland

At the moment, Keegan, or more aptly, James McTavin was sitting at his desk, writing his next great story. Or, so he hoped. While he was not a gloriously rich man, he had sold his fair share of sellers. Even a best seller or two. He glanced up casually, looking around his study which was decorated with his collections of Medieval weaponry. For some reason or another, he was simply drawn to it. He even knew how to use most of it, in some capacity or another. His pen scratched across the paper as he wrote, his mind drifting in and out of reality as he did. Occasionally, he would glance up for a moment and think, but other than that, he was completely intertwined with his work. He was really cranking this bad boy out. With any luck, he'd be done within the week. He was just reaching his final chapters, and the story was coming along nicely. He smiled as he stood up to stretch, popping his neck and heading into the kitchen for a snack.