Rege slipped on his Knuckle dusters as he stepped out into the sunlight and checked his spear "So where do i play?" he asked, shifting his head he observed the area noting any movement or immediate threats in the area, disappointment filled his face at the lack of enemies "Hey commander" he said "I don't mind the tactics you devise to earn our victories but i'd do it pretty fast" he scowled at the soldiers who were currently mobilizing under their commanders "The Mercs aren't gonna wait till we're done orgainizing to kill"

With a lack of answers from the wagon, Arthur looked about and saw someone getting off a ship. He decided tro consult him and galloped over. "Hey there," he said to the man, who was holding a spear, "Do you know who's leading the mercenaries? I was hired and kept in the dark, so I haven't the slightest clue who I'm under." he looked the man over, "Are you a merc too?" Gus remained decidedly silent as he knew he really didn't need to add anything.

When others joined, and the plan began to be spoken, a man intervened to say his own thoughts. Indeed, this man had a wise outlook on the tactic as well. Perhaps he and the woman Jessica could come together to make an interesting pair of planners and tacticians, but there was always the possibility that one of them might not make it through this little raid.

But Jinx didn't say anything. At one point, she had even closed her eyes to the world and begun ignoring them.
There was merely a point in time where she needed to lay out a string of memories, of emotions, to conduct how her power would play forth in battle.
Taking a breath, she began to relax into the seat and recall her past. Just one memory, this time. Battle could not require much more than that of her. Just one emotional draw point...

There was a bundle of cloth tucked into the caramel arms of a woman. The cloth was folded in different directions, with a dip at one end. It was a set of blue and black shades, with white fur trims upon the edges that crisscrossed back and forth. The bundle seemed to move, but perhaps it was just that the woman holding them was stroking at it with her limber fingers.

"She's beautiful." Another woman spoke, darker in skin-tone. Pandora looked up, lighter green eyes spotting Tura, the wife of the village's leader. Tura came forward, her black hair shaven short, but not taking away from the strong soft look of the woman.

"She is." Pandora said softly, her hands stroking over the soft bundle of blankets as she began to tug at one of the ends, widening the dip at one end.

Her hair was down and loose, falling in long waves down her back and a little past her waist, collecting on the bed's edge and around her night-dress.

"What's her name?" Tura said inquisitively, stepping closer and looking down into Pandora's arms.

Pandora formed a smile upon her lips, moving her hand away from the end of the bundle, unveiling a small face, round and gorgeous, a tone lighter than Pandora. The child had supple lips, a round nose, and long lashes with black hair mussed atop her head. As the child parted its lids, she unveiled crystalline blue eyes.

"Dezazia (Dehz-asia)" Pandora smiled, combing the back of her fingers against her daughter's soft cheeks.




Opening her eyes, Jinx looked hard and coldly over the group, watching the back open up to show the landscape around them. Like the others, she crawled up with a nimble and almost too-relaxed fashion, creeping out unto the open space. Instead of lingering right next to the woman and others, Jinx took up her own space some short distance away. Her body faced sideways- away from the group, but her side facing the oncoming crowd.

Her right hand rose, her wrist coming up to her neck, fingers tugging lightly upon something unseen. The small charms seemed to hook together, and she curled her fingers to her chest. Jinx closed her eyes, replaying the memory in her head like a prayer, before yanking her right hand away sharply. Her hands jolted towards her body, each catching a piece of the charm. Both charms had broken at the center, breaking into four pieces. Two pieces (one for the bracelet and necklace) remained upon her body, while the others had been caught one in each hand, clutched tightly now against her palm. Opening her hands, the small swirls of blue-ish steel were molded into her hand, like brands- risen up from the skin like blue welts.

She took her hands down to her side, shaking her head to toss the braids behind her back. They created a soft soothing clatter of beads as she turned to the others, folding her arms tight over her chest, standing in a slightly impatient stance with her head turned to look at the oncoming crowd.

"I'm in the dark as much as you are" answered Sevick.
Sevick then noticed that the wagon in front of him had stopped and people were getting out of it. "Maybe we should ask them? By the way the name's Sevick." Sevick told the man.
Seeing the army Sevick readied his shield, walked up to a woman with braided hair and asked, "So who's in charge here and what's the plan, or is there a plan?"
Sevick looked at the woman waiting for her answer.

The man across from Lhomas became animated, trying to assert his own point. That point being, as it appeared to Lhomas, the obvious declaration that any plan might prove ineffective because of unforseen events. Not helpful, Lhomas made an ignorant 'brushing away' gesture with his hands. He turned his unnamused face back to the woman who had early fancied herself commander. Lhomas leaned foreward again, but before he spoke, a man outside the caravan called out. He mentions approaching men. The leather caravan gate is opened and the commanding woman steps out.

Not sure what the man outside meant by 'approaching men', Lhomas decides to step outside and see what it's about. 'Could we have made it already?' he wonders, thinking about the mercenarie's current destination on the island. Lhomas crouches and shuffles around men and luggage, following the woman outside. Noticing figures across the field and seeing the buildings too, he knows these must be their target. Again glad to feel his legs stretch, Lhomas takes his time to prepare.

Tugging his shield off his back and wiggling the hilt of his sheathed broadsword, Lhomas walks up to the commanding woman infront of him. Figuring it's time to take control of this band of frail, unequiped greenhorns, Lhomas speak up loud enough for everyone near the caravan can hear. "We'll wait here until the Nathian soldiers make a move. There's no point in risking our necks when they are willing to die for king and country." He added a low chuckle to the end of that, and continued: "If they engage the defenders, we can come around and flank them from the side. Way I see it, we could run right into the village with the natives forces distracted, start those flimsy wooden shacks on fire" using his shield-hand, he pointed toward the three shacks on the soon-to-be battlefield, "we can then charge at the gathered natives and cut them down in the chaos. They're scared of us, y'see. We can work on that. We could appear.." he paused and looked into the commanding woman's eyes, his own looking snide and mean, "we could apppear inhuman."

Rege scowled at the suggestion the man made "Waiting for the soldiers to move is a good plan, Our opposing forces haven't actually tried to engage us when we were traveling so he may have a point in them being scared of us." He spun his spear out of habit "Wouldn't it be better to strike first?" he asked "We can circle around them and start a fire like he said, if their really scared of we can rout them straight into the main force instead of giving them a chance to retreat" He cocked his head at the older man and grinned "Well apparently we're just a whole bunch of stratigists, but that won't help win battles, but first things first introductions no sense not knowing whos fighting by your side. " he extended a hand "My name is Rege Kune, A.k.A the Arcane fist, but just call me Rege, I specialize in Skirmishes and Hit and runs.

Vincent halted his steed and quickly averted his gaze into the distance. The architecture of the structures, the surrounding geographical features, the pending danger of the red blurs moving forward; Vincent took all of these thoughts in at once and quickly began to analyze the situation at hand. His attention was drawn momentarily by the leave of Alfonse into the carriage, only to be replaced by a girl he had not seen hop into the caravan. "She must have already been inside." Vincent thought to himself as he unmounted his horse. Grabbing the reigns he would issue the horse to move towards the back of the carriage. After he was sure that the horse wouldn't be in immediate danger, Vincent would slide the wooden covering off a box tied to the steed's thigh. He would reach in and pull out a sword with runic markings engraved in its blade. Vincent closed the wooden casing and hastily moved back towards the front of the caravan.

His eyes wandered a final time, to take notice of the ones pouring out from within the caravan. It seems as if this was no welcoming party and a battle may have been soon underway. It mattered not to Vincent at this moment. His former thoughts of who inhabited the place had been driven out of his mind by a sudden rush of blood lust. The magic flowing through his body could almost be felt as his adrenaline slowly began to rise. Vincent ran a set of fingers along the flat of the blade, the runes glowing a dark red at his touch. Vincent held the sword downward in his right hand while he raised his left in front of him, bawling it up into a fist. The rune-like markings on his body would begin to glow, though unseen to others around him, as he began to mumble the words of an incantation:

"The Sun and Moon, my mother and father of the sky. Father lend me your inferno, so that my enemies may die. Mother lend me your twilight, to engulf my flames in darkness. In the palm of my hand birth these powers I harness. Entwine that heavenly flame, with the darkness of its light. Create my hellish flames, that I must abuse to issue this blight."

At the end of the minor stringing of words, Vincent's hand would instantly become a deep red, accompanied by swirls of what seemed to be shadows dancing along his skin. He could feel the magic in his body building up as the sun's light enhanced his strength. If the enemy were to come close enough to see his eyes, Vincent questioned whether or not they would be turned away by the fire that burned within them or the flames that may soon engulf them. A hellish smirk would creep across Vincent's face as former victories replayed in his mind. In this zoned out state, Vincent simply awaited a call to move forth or the acknowledgment of aggression from the incoming forces. Either way, he was prepared.

While he was still waiting for the "mistress" to reply, he noticed the other tactician, broadsword and shield in-hand, and a ruff-and-tumble sort of man who called himself Rege, walking up. Both seemed to have a wealth of knowledge to share, but both were also missing one major factor. Turning his head to look at them he spoke aloud, glaring at them from the beneath the folds of his hood, "And what will you do if they have the cavalry in there? How do we, who know nothing of this place, expect to know how the forces are divided between cities? I do not claim to be a tactician, but I've had my share of unwanted surprises. So expect the unexpected, so we aren't the ones lying on the ground, dead." Not waiting to hear their replies, and not much caring for them either he turned back around, facing the oncoming force, a dark smile curving his lips at the thought of the coming blood bath.

The approaching specs now took shape, growing limbs and weapons: the majority were archers, as intel had it be. 20, 30, no more than 40 men came down the green pathway of trees. Out of them, roughly 15 to 18 were archers, and the rest heavily armored with lances in hand. Some began to climb trees as the rest ran down to respond the unmade assault. Pressure, not to mention complete disregarding of her plan, it was building up on the egotistical woman. And while an individual plan may carry them out of the fray, a teamed one would do so with the party unscathed.

"The only nathian soldiers here are them."

She pointed at the men coming out, Nath's men had a particular armor: lightweight and made of cut steel. In varying shapes, they all wore the continent's emblem proudly on their chest.

"And while they may not be mercenaries, we are to take care of them as we are of ourselves. They aren't bait. Get that through your head. At any rate, I'll be the one to disorient them; seeing as you're set on being cruel, I'll at least ease the pain."

Walking around the caravan, she noticed a new figure. Speaking to himself, an anthem of sorts most likely, it went unmocked as soon, the tactician would do one as well. Jessica stood on the cabin's seat, gripping the top, then the roof and lastly, taking place above it. Just then, what had been that sound? Someone talking? Turning back, it was a man, an eerie smile painting his face.

"Apparently, there won't be a plan. This group is rather loose and unwelcoming... Good luck out there.

An easy target should the archers near in more, but to distract the entire group it would take at least a small risk. Her dextrous finger movements resembled shapes and animals, several later, both hands joined, palms up and the limbs stretched as high as they'd give. The sunny climate changed for the worst.

"Let's see your prowess. All I'll do is hold them for a moment, that's the time you have. Make me eat my words, nameless."

She spoke downwards at Lhomas, this was actually the best behavior that could be used. And quite a rare ocurrence, perhaps it was a liking to a similar person?

Humid. It's wet. It's growing, too. I can feel it: it's numbness, it's pain, it's desperation, it's rain; the sky cries for me. Legs crossed, hands raised and still together, as if pleading. Eyes shut and speaking without a sound, the lip movements, if read, were actually the finalization of one of her strongest spells.

"I show you my joy and my reasons. Heavens, show me your sorrow, I will ease it. Drop me your tears so I may wipe them away. May those at my side live and may those at the other know your glory in death.

Tick. Tick. Tick. First droplets, then the scenery grew grey lines, the skies darkened though the sun could be seen shining further away. Even with the limits, the rain make the grass grow slippery, the archers' bows weaken and the knights vision hinder. With an injured arm, asking a higher power drained Jessica moreso, but for the sake of argument, and curiosity as she'd like to see unnamed mercenary shine. The rain now a constant pouring, all men that had taken place on trees slid down, another one even fell from the tall jungle tree.

"Jessica, you lout... I wouldn't be suprised if you sustained another injury for this.

Inside, a comfortable Alfonse crossed his fingers idly, it wasn't so much relaxation as much as it was nerves. Knowing the closest thing to a daughter you have is out fighting with a bunch of strangers, or that you couldn't do much to help: that was the real problem. He awaited a signal to come out, as that usually happened when forces began to weaken or the battle was won.

Back outside, nathian soldiers marched in unison to the front, no more than 10 meters of the wagon, they carried different weapons amongst them and ignored the previous plans, going by their own formation: an archer and a mage to the back, a warrior, a sword fighter and a lance wielder to the front.

Jinx had turned her head slightly to see another; Sevick. She merely waved him over to the others.

"They're apparently battling for domination." Jinx said simply. But she stepped forward, away from Sevick. Soldiers seemed to flood forward. What was a line of red on the horizon of sight, was now a thick blob of men clamoring forth to fight back the mercenaries. Tisk tisk, what a shame. Jinx let her nature fill her body. Pushing Pandora out, and leaving only the anger of being a lone woman with no child, with no lover. Without anyone.

Her fists clenched, and she pressed her nails hard against the symbols swelling from her hand, water dripping from them as her nails pressed harder. But soon, a drop of rain fell, and Jinx halted. Looking up, she saw more and more- rain. Turning her head, she saw Jessica, and cast her the first smile the group would see of her.

"Thanks." She chuckled, looking back to the group of oncoming attackers. With the rain pouring down, Jinx would get a boost of power. Instead of having to create water out of raw power, she had plenty of it to work with. Thus, she had the advantage of exercising her raw power into more than just creating water, but using it to tear those men apart however she pleased.
But, she was not skilled enough to destroy them all. She was only well off enough to create a series of paralyzing/stunning attacks.

Raising her left arm, the figures of blue ink danced upwards, wrapping around her fingers and creating a soft blue glow. Jinx focused, eyes shut, playing back memories in her head. Of her child, of her lover. Mostly though, of Dez. Little Dez, her blue-eyed baby... Her baby who was gone... Her infant who was stolen away from her by a kidnapper in the night.

Parting her eyes open wide, she clenched her fist. Jinx took a moment, watching the rain for about five meters within her peripheral vision stop in mid-flow, all the droplets landing in this space seeming to halt in the air. The more it rained, the more water gathered in this invisible cage.


"What do you seek by seeking vengeance?!" a voice screamed in the dark depth of her mind.

"Another chance."


Unfurling her fist, the symbol at her hand seemed to dance wildly upon her palm. Throwing her arm forward, the stretch of floating droplets shot forward like bullets, spreading all over to the enemies directly ahead in the distance. Some struck, some did not. The bits of fast-flying droplets that did strike merely created stings upon the enemy's skin, like being struck with a paintball. It would surely be enough to hold them back or stun them, maybe make them disarm. But the effect varied from man to man, each different and able in different ways.

Her arm seemed to halt its soft glow, and she drew it back, clenching and opening her fist, rubbing her arm. She shook her head, eyes focused as she began to move forward, sticking now close to the group, readying to dive deep into the attack and take on what she could, remembering well that rain was her ally.

Rege still had a grin on his face when the hooded man spoke "I hear that" he said, turning to face the enemy force he saw that they've already been hit by a minor spell but it stopped as soon as it began "My time to shine"he shouted, he noticed several spellcasters in their group prepareing to cast so he did what any warrior would, Dive in and make a mess, he saw the formation they had made due to the rain the Lady summoned "My thanks" he said, then charged fist drawn back in striking positions, he nearly slid on the wet grass and the Archer loosed an arrow that nicked his side and he slowed to check the wound "Lucky" he whispered, the arrow made only a scratch and would not impend his movement, he looked at the Mage worried that he would get blasted but sighed when he saw the spell still in formation (Don't stop stupid! move!) skipping over another arrow before he arrived at the group the swordfighter struck a mighty cleaving blow that left himself open to an elbow, Rege complied with it and sent the Swordsman skidding back (Armors stopping my attacks) he thought, the lancewielder struck next covering the Swordsman stumble (Experts too) he spun his spear and caught the lance diverting it off to the right and drawing his katana to stop the Warrior from lopping his head off "Three against one is definatly not a good choice on my part" Rege muttered as he skipped back sheathing his sword back into his spear he faced off against the the three and hoped another merc would be along to assist

"And while they may not be mercenaries, we are to take care of them as we are of ourselves. They aren't bait. Get that through your head. At any rate, I'll be the one to disorient them; seeing as you're set on being cruel, I'll at least ease the pain."

Randolf laughed. There was just enough of an edge to the sound so that it wasn't quite a kind, cheerful sound, but not so much that it came off as cruel. He punched Lhomas' arm, hard enough to rock the big man. "Sounds like the wee lass has a bigger pair than yeh do, sonny! If yer so keen on keepin' all yer juices on the inside, why the hell'd yeh pick this job?"

One of the mercenaries charged. Howling in anger at being beaten to the punch, he ran after, hastily stuffing his pipe, still smoking, under his belt. Clenching his fists, he sent his mind racing down pathways long since hammered into his consciousness. St. Elmo's fire danced along his arms, giving the man a hellish appearance. He came up behind Rege and cannoned past. The enemy swordsman who saw this unarmed fool of a mage come rushing in was, to say the least, surprised when Randolf's fist hit with sledgehammer force, and ceased to be surprised at anything when the lightning discharged into his chest.

"Idiot, chargin' alone! Don't yeh know-" Randolf flopped to the ground, falling below the lance that would have thudded into, and likely through, his back. A sort of whip-motion that started in his legs and looked entirely impossible brought him to his feet again. "Don't yeh know yeh'll get yerself kilt?" Randolf made a peculiar hand gesture, like an OK sign with the thumb and forefinger held slightly apart. A tiny arc danced between them. A hard breath between his fingers lit into a burst of fire, driving the lance-carrier back. The rain killed the flames quickly, and they failed to reach even as far as where the lance carrier had stood before backpeddling before the flames.

"Lucky you that I'm 'ere to save yer arse. I got this one, yeh get the other." A crackle of lightning across his fingers spurred the lancer to pull his long, and definitely metal, weapon, back. Smart man. "Two rounds o' beer sez we're done by the time the rest catch up."

Sevick had no time to ask the others anything as the battle had started. Sevick gave himself a few buffing spells then ran toward the fray. He jumped into the air and landed sending his spear into the ground. Soon two cracks of light ran from the spear toward two of the three men fighting two fellow mercs. When they reached the two light spears shot up and knocked them both to the ground killing one. Sevick grined and pulling his spear from the ground charged the foes' line.

"Unlucky to have mismatched affinities." Vincent mumbled to himself as the rain slowly began to pour. His hand still burned with dancing shadows making a marionette along his arm. The initial blow to the enemy was delivered by not only a fellow magic user but by two obviously battle crazed warriors from their side. However, despite their yearning for battle, it seemed as if they were avoiding the enemy mage. Vincent could easily sense the forces of nature building up within the enemy, and so he chose to charge forth.

There was no transfer from jog to run, but rather an instant dash forward. The instantaneous action sent Vincent's body hurling towards the enemy. With the magical energy from his enchantment still embedded into his hand, he would grasp the hilt of his weapon with both hands. The runes along the blade would glow momentarily before disappearing in a curtain of black flames that quickly engulfed the weapon.

"These flames of darkness, I force into the blade. Immediate suffering, sorrow I do not forbade. Lash forth with anger!" he roared as the enemy had taken notice of his appearance. It was obvious that Vincent wouldn't make it in time to deliver a physical blow, so instead he would plant a single foot into the ground mid-dash. With a swift rotation of his body he would twirl once and upon returning to face forward his blade would release a wave of magical energy. The spectrum of the attack was wide and solicited no room to evade for the enemy mage who attempted to counter by releasing a spell of his own. Unfortunate for him, the result ended up as a magnified explosion directly in front of him. The ground would become singed and the explosion would send back the mage with his entire front side scorched. Any other enemies nearby would have been in immediate danger if the rain had not dampened the embers that scattered near the center of the attack.

"Even my dark flames are limited by water..." Vincent noted for personal reference, but soon his attention drifted back to the battle at hand. A single kill would not warrant his pay. If he were to attain what he had come for then he would have to take more lives. Before Vincent could take off in another dash, a bombardment of arrows would be seen barreling towards him. Not wanting to fall victim to any unnecessary wounds, he would instead back-step multiple times with his hopes high that the rain would weigh the arrows down before they could reach him.

Rege laughed as he squared off against the swordsman "Alright then two beers says i take this guy out before you" he said, the spears of light the magic caster used only blinded his opponet and Rege waited until the man's vision cleared before striking, His spear crashed into the blade send sparks up as it was diverted, Rege felt himself leaning forward due to momentum and ducked, spinning into a sweeping kick that felled the man He sheathed his Spear and opened his mind to the magic "Enraged flames hear my call" a small fireball burst into existings and slowly rotated around his arm "In ashes let life rise once more" another flame appeared and Rege shot the fist forward catching the swordsman in the gut "Flare gun!" he roared and the two fireballs spiraled down his arm seperating into smaller fires and smashing into the man with rapid explosions, the swordsmans face twitched an expression of surprise and outrage on his face before dropping to the ground dead and Rege turned to locate his next battle, he saw the arows then and began leaping back "Oi Arrows!" he yelled

"It's time now. They sound like they're not in too much danger... You can do it, Alfonse, YOU CAN DO IT! RAAAAAHH!"

Alfonse had taken the courage to battle, grabbing the crossbow from its resting place, his arms placed the first bolt in a rack as to keep firing without realoding manually. The battlecry was likely heard by those outside. Crossbow's bolt rack made soft rattling noises as the merchant ran to the fray. They had already engaged a group close to the caravan, speaking something about beers. That meant going for a further target, and there it was: an archer making way alone for the wagon.

Thfft! The first bolt, then a second, a third. All three punctured non vital spots, or at least, non vital in the sense he didn't need them to live. Losing a finger for an archer is death already. Desperate, his red robes had been painted in the shade of blood, from a sheath at the hip, a seax knife -arguably a shortsword- was drawn. The party's merchant would see an end soon, arm raised...

...The foe tripped over the wet grass and crashed to the ground. Alfonse made haste to get above the foe, wrapping both arms around the neck. Most forces retreated, as archers shot last rounds to cover for the knights that still lived. Nath's soldiers were nowhere to be seen, the 'bait' had been taken most likely. It was unfortunate, but if it didn't dock their pay, it was likely nothing to the mercenaries.

Atop the caravan was the archer's true target: Jessica still sat, concentrating to maintain the rain. When the sounds of battle died out, a weakened water mage began to recall the events.

"Thanks." She smiled, how kind. "My dark flames are limited by water." I'm sorry. "Sounds like the wee lass has a bigger pair than yeh do, sonny!" I suppose so, thank-you.

In her mind, the people she could hear were replied to promptly, it was a sign of exhaustion however - recalling recent events in that manner. Of course, changing the entire battlefield would tire one greatly, that meaning, the plead halted.

"Heavens, I thank your ear. Beg of you, those eyes stop crying, it is your maiden who cleans those tears, and it is her that tells you they're gone. Your cries needn't go on, I've given you my strength to do so."

Jessica's arms stretched back down, she lied down for what she thought was a well deserved rest. Hands holding her head and eyes open now: the sky was clearing up and from the edge of vision, most red specs were going back and the rest were dead. No casualties. It was perfect if only for the fact they'd inform anybody else of their presence...

"The field's empty, right?"

She yelled down, waiting for an answer, a hopeful yes. But if there were anybody standing, they wouldn't last long anymore. In fact, the only person Alfonse recognized still alive was on the floor.

"Tell us, where is your leader?!"

"Let me stand for a moment...

Alfonse quickly released the hold and got up, it had only been a lucky streak and it could be another one that take his life away, it was mostly guilt.

"He...You...

The man panted for a second, holding his chest.

"You'll see him when you have to. In hell.

Before anyone's reaction, he took a small vial from the blade sheath and drank its contents, falling to the grass below dead afterwards.

The army began fleeing into the woods behind them. They rode hard and fast to retreat from the field. Once along the path and deep into the woods, the rain let up. The army, sure that they were not being followed were given the command to slow their pace.

The head General's mood was bitter. He wasn't looking forward to returning to the Lord in defeat. He would probably be whipped and spend the night in the dungeon. "That stupid water wench! When they get closer to the town we will be ready, and I will have her head on a plate!!"

A soldier rode up beside him, "Indeed sir, we'll ambush them as soon as they cross the boundry. The men will be ready and will all follow your lead." The soldiers tone was low, but reasuring.

As the army cleared the woods, the view of a cliff along the mountian lay before them. The road was wide enough for them. The water crashing against the wall was still intimidating. The general Led the troops onto the road, the soldier following on his right.

The General turned his head to snarl at the soldier. "Your words bring comfort lad, but until the words become truth, do not address me as if I were your equal again." 'Who the hell does this soldier think he is.' The General turned back around on his horse to face the road ahead once again.

The soldier tapped his heal to the horses side to speed him up and hopped up to a crouch in his saddle. "But indeed your men will follow your lead." In one fluid motion, the soldier lunged on top of the General's horse, a hidden wrist blade sinking into his throat, pulled out a white feather and slid it across the targets wound for proof.

The other soldiers hesitated at first out of shear shock. Some drew crossbows while others drew their swords and charged the assassin. Before the first bolt was fired, the assassin dove off the side of the cliff.

It seemed like a perfect plan. He had checked the sight out earlier and ran many scenerios through his head to plan this assination. This one happened to be the one he would use if the army decided to retreat. 'I hope my calculations on the water depth are correct' In midfall he tucked the feather into his robes underneath the armor and plunged into the sea. The soldiers stopped at the ledge and waited for the man to surface but didn't see anything but furious waves waging war against the cliff wall.

A good five minutes passed before Bailian surfaced at the shore. He had shed himself from the armor while underwater to give himself better mobility. However there was a wound from hitting a rock. Upon hitting the rock, the armor broke and pierced his right shoulder. He climbed out onto the shore and stamered to his feet. A horse, black as the night approached him.

"Thanks for waiting for me Alucard." He grabbed the reins and quickly threw a leg over the horses back. He held the reins in his good hand and headed for the mercenaries.

*****

Bailian strode up to the mercenaries and the army surounding them. As he approached, he held out his hands to show no threat.

"Who the hell are you!" Karl strode forward through his men with demand.

"I am the man that has proof of your dead target." Balian reached into his robe and pulled out the feather. "I arrived a few days ago to scout the area. I have been hired by the King to join a band of mercenaries. The General was my first target. Have I found the right group?"

Vincent stopped his backpedaling as the enemy started to turn tail and retreat. The sight was unusual, but with a sigh of relief, Vincent strode over towards the fallen mage. Vincent held mastery in both sword and flame, but his dark magics were untamed and often had negative effects. Due to this, he never practices his dark magics on fellow allies, but this fallen mage had dared to raise hand against him. Briefing of the results of their situation and their next destination would have to come second. It was apparent no one was hurt so there wasn't any need for his few medical supplies which he'd rather use for himself.

The red glowing of Vincent's hand meant that the magic was still flowing heavily through his arm. Placing the hand over the mage's face, Vincent would close his eyes before beginning another incantation.

"My father, the sun, I dispell your flames from my hand. Only so that my mother of the night shall envelop my soul. Surrender to me the darkness that dwells within your twilight." Vincent's hands would no longer glow red, but now be enveloped entirely by a dark aura. "Gates of hell, I offer you exchange. As you take this soul, offer me his lineage. Gather in my palm, the secrets of his art. Gather in my mind, the knowledge of his ritual. Bestow!"

For once, it worked. His plea had been answered by the spirits of the underworld itself. The fallen mage's body would pulse momentarily before his skin would begin to peel off as if it were being burned. Within Vincent's mind he could hear the shrill cry of the mage's soul as it drifted off into its next life. Within Vincent's body he could feel the leftover magical energies flowing into him, restoring the small amount that had been lost during his attack. For a battle so short, Vincent felt this was a debt that needed to be paid. As the spell finished, the body of the mage would no longer exist, only bones. Vincent headed back towards the caravan to take notice of any words that were to be spoken as he went to check up on his steed.

((There's been a change in the rules as of april 29th, please make way to the OOC if you haven't read it. Thanks; Safisan))





Jinx had raced forward, stepping behind and around other mercenaries to allow her safe trespassing into the oncoming surge of red-clothed warriors. Her first approached her, sword drawn back. The look in his eyes spelled out that he underestimated her. Because she was thinly clad and wielding no apparent weapon. What a fool, she thought to herself.

Jinx dipped her body down, braids clattering against her back in a solid clap of beads as she reached forward and the blades slid over her head- missing her. She jolted one hand forward, her fingers slipping around the warrior's knee. Her fingernails dug in tight, in a specific spot that made his knee buckle then lose strength. The soldier fell to one knee, and Jinx slipped back to her standing position, always quick and elusive. He drew his sword back and readied to stand again, but with one hand she caught his wrist. And the other hand clapped over the man's mouth, leaving small holes of space at the side of her hand, as though allowing him to breathe. But that wasn't the plan at all. Rain around her seemed to suck forth to her right hand, slipping through those holes and gushing down the soldier's throat. His screams were lost in gargles as his eyes watered and he finally lost strength. The blade dropped and the soldier fell back, water seeping from his lips. Poor thing; drowning is a horrible way to go.

The vicious woman shot forward again, readying her next victim. This time he was an archer, somehow clinging to a tree up above. He pulled back an arrow- be it aimed at her or another, she cared not. Raising her hand, she gathered her power in her fist, watching his fingers clip the arrow tightly, as he drew it back just slightly further. With a soft thwang the arrow was released, flying through the air.

Opening her fist, Jinx tilted her hand forward, opening her fingers so that her pointer and middle finger were aimed to the arrow tightly. The droplets of rain there shot against the arrow's limber wooden body, spinning it off course and into a nearby tree.
With the next flick of her wrist, a small portion of rain gathered together into a water sphere and shot forth like a cannonball to the archer, knocking him clean out of the tree.

A soldier slipped up behind her, and his blade slipped right past her throat as she noticed him, dipping back like a nimble squirrel fleeing danger.
The blade slightly nicked her shoulder, and stoked her anger greatly. She swung her hand- open and palm facing away- at the man, slapping him across the face sternly, a rush of water following after the blow to crash against his face when he looked back angrily. He closed his eyes at the impact of water, and upon opening them, Jinx had a clenched fist rushing forward. Her knuckles smashed into the nose of the soldier, creating a loud crack followed by his loud whimpering cry of pain. Jinx swept down to the ground in a sleek quick gesture, and swung her leg out, knocking the soldier to the ground quickly. When he dropped his blade, she slipped her foot beneath the handle and kicked it up, catching it and slamming it down through his chest.


By then, the others had handled a great deal of them, while others fled.

She popped her neck, rubbing her hands together as she walked back towards the caravan. There, she saw others, and Jessica laying restfully atop the caravan. Another man approached, and Jinx flicked him a quick cautious glance, before nodding solemnly.

"That went easily enough." Jinx said, her full bronze lips tilting into a crooked smile of victory, looking over to the others. She turned her head slightly, noticing that over her wet body dripped a few small trickles of red. She brushed her hand over it, a small thin ribbon of water washing the wound and cleaning it quickly. After that, she decided to disregard the tiny cut. It was nothing major, and battle wounds were commonly received when she took on battle. But she preferred to be struck barely and be nimble and elusive, instead of stabbed or gashed up when wearing thicker garments.

"Next move?" Jinx said sternly, looking back to the other mage across the field, the one named Vincent. He was strange, and powerful as well. But his method, and knowing his look by being from Rweng, made her wonder if he knew of her lover, and maybe of her child.
For a split second, her eyes grew alight with hope, changing from their darkened hues of dampened earthy green to a smooth lime color. But her lips tightened and they darkened once more, her eyes turning back down.
No, she had to do more for this group before she sought their help in any way.

((It's reopened now, guys, it has been for a little more than a day...))

"We... We should be leaving now. May the Heavens help us all if we're caught by reinforcements here."

Rather lax, it was odd of Jessica to speak in such a tone. However the sight of a clearing noon sky did wonders for the soul. With the grass sparkling from the light shining down, the clouds whitened and the tiresome feeling calling rain had upon her, the tactician was calmed, not to mention the fact they didn't suffer casualties. Except for... Those nathian soldiers? Just where had they gone? They weren't seen from her position, which was now sitting up on the wagon's roof.

Following the lookout was a sound. Porock, prock, prock Rhythmical in nature, it was the sound of horses' hooves, they were far away most likely. Another threat? They'd gotten lucky with the previous, another fight now would simply be an insult.

But to reveal the source: it was Karl Nath riding to a middle point with an assassin, not before being frustrated by his odd way of riding - both hands raised.

"So you're the sellsword. Well, indeed you've found the group, worm. I'll be riding with those maggots for the time being, so just follow my lead."

Imposing authority: typical of the flimsy general. Not looking back for the man, Karl rode west to the mercenary group joining by the caravan. His appointed men were no more, the party of five had disappearaed into the engagement. Doubtful, but not distracted, he kept way and stopped only when close enough to speak with them.

"You killed those larvae, didn't you? No matter... It seems the threat's bigger than we thought, so my men and I will be riding with this excuse of a band. In the caravan now, you filthy dogs!"

The armor rattled as the large man struggled for a moment to get off the white horse. Walking around the vehicle, the reknowed finger-pointing was used again to signal everyone into the wagon. They still had a good six hours or so to ride before night would fall on them. While it went unmentioned, the plan was to go further north into Alt-Neh to further ransack, only leaving a light defense in Sannas.

"We'll ride north for the rest of the day. If we're lucky, you can watch me wipe another town.

Still walking in circles, he was interrupted by the evident crush. General Nath smiled with a sleazy look at Jinx and then proceeded to finish the stride, taking place back on the horse with a grunt. Quickly, Alfonse did the entire opposite of the orders. Sitting in the cabin as opposed to the wagon, the whip was drawn from the feet's height and Jessica came down shortly after. Avoiding the stares of the soldiers, her place inside the caravan -on the left bench, in the far corner by the wall- was used.