Calais's Story

The white sands of the Jehannan desert soon gave way to endless hills of green foliage. The sky overhead, usually a clear azure, was now covered in rolling clouds of gray. It was unlike anything he had seen before. And then the rain. It started off as a light mist. Just a simple nod to the fact that the boy was so far from home. It soon evolved into heavy droplets that fell rhythmically, like the beats of hundreds of tiny drummers.

It would have been considered peaceful, beautiful even...if Calais wasn't so goddamn lost.

The young man's journeys had taken him all the way from the wastelands of Jehanna, west to Renais and dangerously close to Grado. Calais was used to traveling. His tribe would pick up and move six or seven times a year, sometimes more. But despite all that, the fact remained that he wasn't very worldly. With the lush foliage on the trees and the vast stretches of prairie, the boy had never seen so much green before. And the rain... The desert was lucky if a passing shower would even make the sands damp. Now as he trekked over the hills and through the fields, it had started up. Feeling the first of many droplets hit his tanned skin, Calais found himself grinning with excitement. He turned his head up and opened his mouth wide, arms outstretched and laughing like a fool. It felt wonderful. The light splashes cooled his face and hit his tongue. More and more the rains fell, growing intense, steadier and wetter and -

'I'm drowning...'

Calais began to cough and sputter, gasping for air as he desperately tried to clear his throat of water. His cheeks turned read and he choked violently.

Just then, a flash of lightning was seen far into the horizon, and seconds later, he heard his very first clap of thunder. It boomed and echoed, shaking him to the core. He'd though he let out a yelp, but the crash was too loud to be entirely sure. It was at this moment on this day that Calais decided he hated rain.

Desperate to find shelter, he ran. Up ahead was a village. Surely there would be shelter there. As he continued running, the young man took note that his pockets were not jingling and soon remembered that he was without any coin at all. His stride slowed until he eventually came to a stop, arms limp at his side as he looked about mournfully. Searching behind the village inn, his eyes spotted a large oak tree. Its branches reached out far and were covered in large, dense leaves. Calais turned and made his way toward the tree, smiling at his own resourcefulness. After all, what better place to take shelter outside in a storm than under a tree?

Curling up into a ball for warmth, the young man watched the horrible rain fall upon the village. Soon his eyes grew heavy and he allowed himself to shut them, on the condition that it only be for a moment...


...a loud noise jolted him from his sleep. It wasn't like the thunder before it. No...this was different. Higher pitched...less intense. Rubbing his eyes, Calais struggled to get his bearings. Rain still poured from overhead. As he hugged his knees tighter and looked around for the source of the noise, his gaze fell upon something in the distance.

A flash at first. Light reflecting on metal. It was a blade of some sort. An axe. Held high up on a man's shoulder. A large man. He was barechested, his muscular body glistening in the rain. Next to him was another, equally large man. A bear pelt was draped over his shoulders. They drew closer, striding confidently up to where Calais was seated under the tree. When they were but a few feet in front of him, he could make out their faces. Both men were grinning.

Calais smiled back.

"Hey there! Have you come to get out of the rain too?"

The two men's features narrowed a bit as they stood before him.

"There's plenty of room, here..." Calais got to his knees and dusted his trousers off. "I'll just move over like this, see? And - "

A dull thunk sounded near the boy's head. Confused, he turned and looked up, turquoise eyes growing wide. The axe was thrust deep into the trunk of the tree, mere inches from Calais' temple.

"Wh-what the...?"

The man with the bear pelt held a sword at his side. In a gruff voice he spoke, "Now, now. Be a good boy and die, you hear!?"

With that he swung the blade sideways. Calais shrieked and fell backward, slouching down as the sword swept overhead and landed with another thunk into the tree. His mind racing, the young man rolled to the side. Scrambling to his feet, he ran, adrenaline pumping him further and further into the center of the town. Surely someone there would help him.

A few more bounds and a thought hit Calais' mind as hard as that axe would have;

'My sword!'

That's right! He had a blade of his own! His family had given it to him before he'd left the desert. Drawing it from its sheath, the hilt felt awkward in his hand. Still, it made him feel less vulnerable. Picking up pace, he rounded the corner into the town square.

It appeared as though this village was marked. Bandits. The very same ones who terrorized his tribe at the border to Jehanna. They were here now, wreaking havoc. It appeared that no matter where Calais traveled to, they would be there. The town was not without hope, however. The boy quickly took note that a select few were mounting an offense. A large man in a scarlet cape was poised, weapon at the ready. Nearby, two women brandishing swords had seemingly just joined the fray. The fight had even taken to the sky it seemed, as a large shadow among the clouds caught his attention. A wyvern. Even a wyvern rider was here!

Suddenly, the situation didn't seem nearly as bleak. These people...these people were fighting back! And any enemy of the bandits was a friend of his!

It was then that Calais caught sight of the front lines. A lone girl, clad in white, was singlehandedly locked in a magic duel against an enemy caster.

A beautiful girl, from the looks of it.

The young man watched for a moment, spells of light and dark slinging at each other. Then, a bolt of cloudy, black something hit the girl in the torso. She was taken aback for a moment, before drawing her blade and advancing.

'Is this girl crazy!? She's gonna get killed!'

When Calais' mind had caught up with his body, he realized he was running. When he realized he was running, he stopped. At the edge of the front line he was trembling, his sword visibly shaking in his hand. What could he do? He didn't have any combat experience. If he were fooling anyone it was only himself. To go out there would be suicide, pretty girl or no pretty girl.

Heartbeat thump, thump, thumping in his ears, Calais dropped his blade. Instinctively, his hand went to his belt. Feeling the cool, smooth wood of the flute beneath his fingertips, the boy was brandishing it before he even knew what he was doing.

It just seemed...natural.

As he drew a deep breath into his lungs and put the flute to his lips, it instantly felt more familiar than that rigid sword. At that moment, the music started. A high-pitched, sweet tone that pierced through the clash of metal and roar of thunder. The honey tones gave way to a rousing melody with a quick, steady tempo. It was a song he'd learned from a soldier of Jehanna when his caravan had made a stop near the capital city.

The girl fought as the music played on and on. Calais hoped that the brave melody would reach her.

"Consider his head already added to your tab," Eris spoke placidly. With a meal-ticket in mind, she used the arm of "her" coat to wipe the apple's juice from her mouth. What happened before was necessity, this was now work. She peered over the open expanse of land between her and the magicians, noting the number of minions standing between her target and her.

For all the strength and speed packed into her slender legs, she wasn't fast enough to join the Wyvern rider and his blonde ward. There would be no easy path for Eris to take, she'd have to cross the old fashioned way and blaze her own trail. Not fast enough was still fast enough for these bandits. It would be just like taking care of a rowdy caravan with Possum, except there were more people with sharp things.

Sometimes lacking a healthy amount of fear came back to bite her. Danger was just another abstract concept that had no place in her decisions. The grip on her sword tightened and she rocked back on her heel for a bare moment before driving forward. She dashed low to the ground, her sword running the length of her arm, but inevitably she came to an impass. A thick, heavy impasse with an ugly face and an axe just about as big as she was. His stance was wide and waiting, and as she drew near he whipped his axe around to cleave her in two. It would have worked too, if Eris was stupid.

She uprooted herself and slid along the wet grass, sailing right between his legs. As she slid, she held out her blade and clipped the inside of the bandit's knee, collapsing it. Eris was back to her feet quick as she slid off of them. A step backward and she drove her sword past her side-- feeling the resistance of flesh part before the bite of her sword. One less bandit for the others to deal with.

Wet clumps of grass were kicked up into the air when Eris pushed off again, continuing her path forward. In an effort to not get impaled with something before she reached her mark, she dodged around the next clump of bandits, sliding into the wake of the Wyvern rider and the blonde one. It wasn't like being directly behind him, of course, but it was better than trapsing about without. That didn't mean it make anything simpler. Had she let her concentration flag even for a moment, the spear would have drove her right into the ground. Instead it only gazed the side of her shoulder-- a flesh wound in comparison.

She regarded the new wound in cold silence before yawning boredly. It hurt, but getting poked with a stick usually did. The spear came again, but Eris was ready this time, jerking to the side. It came again and again with Eris nowhere to be found. The owner was getting mad, and when he'd finally had enough he pulled it to the side, slapping Eris in the face with the spearhead. Her head ripped violently to the side, but she used the momentum to her advantage. She quickly pulled a complete circle and ran below the spear, reversing the grip of her sword as she did. When she came up, the edge of her blade tore into the bandit, she let him drop, bounding forward.

No mind was payed attention to the blood running down her cheek, giving her alabaster face a dash of color. She didn't feel, she only acted. Fortunately, the grunts seemed to be tapering off thanks to the efforts of the Wyvern rider, and before long she passed him by on her path. She was close to her target now. She came up behind the blonde girl and with only the whip of the wind, Eris passed her by heading for the mage.

She slid in to her attack, twisting her feet and bringing the sword around to lop off his head in one fluid motion. However, he had the luxury of seeing her coming, so he ducked, leaving the blade whistling in the wind. She spun another complete circle and brought the sword down in a diagonal, attempting to finish blondie's X. Eris had managed to dig into his shoulder, but her assault was halted by his tome of all things. He had raised his book, and her blade bit only half an inch into the leather covers.

"Huh," She hummed curiously. She never saw that one coming. The same dark cloud that had collected and struck Blondie, then struck her with full force in the chest. She was thrown back, her sword ripping free of his book as she was. Eris landed hard on her back, and slid some distance over the wet grass until she slowed down enough that she could flip back onto all fours. The magic must have had more of a bite to it than she though, as now music was playing in her head.

It took awhile for her sense to return, and when they did she realized that the music she was hearing was some kind of dazed effect, but honest music played by a bard and everything. "What?" She deadpanned. Things were getting weird all of the sudden, where did the bard come from? Eris looked to her side and found out that she had come to a stop next to blondie. Her gaze juggled between her, the bard, and the mage before ending on blondie again. "Well?" She asked expectantly, "Do your magicky thing again. I don't think I can get up," She said with no sense of urgency in her voice. Everything in her body hurt-- not that her expression betrayed it.

The only time Donovan had missed a target had been when his sister had jumped on his back and even then, the arrow left a nasty gouge. For his arrow to fly wide of the intended target, it would take something even the greatest magnitude of imaginations couldn't conjure. A sight so amazing it would normal men scream. It seemed one of the few things that met this criteria was the two great Wyvern’s tearing through the bandits.

The beasts scales shone with a scarlet tone as they cleaved through their opponents with ease as the riders sat high and mighty upon their backs. The boy rubbed his eyes to rid himself of the mirage but to no avail. These were two real, live, fire-breathing dragons, just like in his story book!

Recovering from the shock and awe, Donovan quickly began to search for his next victim. Several new people had joined the fray with them but there was no time to assess their skills. They would just have to fend for themselves and try not to get in the way of his arrows. Drawing his bow string back, he took aim, firing three arrows into the horde of bandits. Though they had seemed hopelessly outmatched before, their opponent’s numbers had dwindled and things were beginning to lean in their favor as each arrowhead buried itself in a skull.

Far in the distance, a lone rider had successfully slain two of the attackers but was quickly being approached by two more. It was hard to make out much detail in the girl’s face but even from here he could see she was quite beautiful.
“Distance...about forty meters. This is going to be close.” His bow let off a cacophonous twang as the arrow flew over the writhing mass of people fighting in the square. Even from on the balcony, the shouts of the men rang loud in his ears. The arrow had cut right through the back of both their knees and sent them collapsing to the ground in pain.

Turning back to the chaos below him, a detail he hadn't noticed now stuck out like a sore thumb.

“I had a hunch you weren't one of my men.” Donovan whirled around to see a sphere of dark energy fly towards him, smashing into his chest and launching him into the railing of the balcony. The sphere dissolved into the stone floor only to reappear in the man’s hand. A desperate dive for his bow was easily thwarted as the man kicked him in the stomach. His fingers just closed around the bowstring as he was hoisted off the floor and sent plummeting from the balcony into the slaughter below.

Things seemed to be going fairly well, until Oskar's allies attempted to take on the leader of the pack. He successfully fended off the thief and the light mage, and it took the aid of the dragon riders to keep them alive. This man was clearly not to be trifled with.

It seemed that two new allies had entered the fray. One was another dragon rider who seemed to know the other; who was apparently named "Harlaus". He was probably another Grado knight. The other person who had entered the fray appeared to be a Jehannan gypsy, and he wasn't being nearly as helpful as the dragon rider. Despite being armed with a sword, he went instead for his flute and began playing it. What on earth was he doing?! He would be lacerated before he had the chance to take the flute away from his lips. However, Oskar did have to commend the way in which he was capable of making his song rise above the din of battle.

Oskar had begun to focus so much on the bard's flute playing that his mind began to drift away from the battle, giving a nearby brigand the opportunity to knock him backwards with the butt of his lance. Oskar staggered backwards before being bowled over by another blow. As he fell backwards, hie couldn't help but drift away into the song again. He had heard it before, and it had been accompanied by lyrics telling the tale of a king of old who had fallen from grace because of the treachery of one of his knights. An idea suddenly struck Oskar; as he fell he grabbed a nearby brigand and pulled him in front of him, right into the path of his aggressor's spearhead. The lance stuck into Oskar's human shield and fortunately didn't go all the way through him. While his killer tried desperately to wrench his comrade off his lance, Oskar picked himself up and swung his blade into the brigand's skull, sending him falling into the churned-up mud.

Oskar heard a yelp nearby that seeming came from above, but couldn't be right... He looked up, and saw a boy falling from the spire of the town hall. Oskar quickly planed his sword into the ground and held out his arms to catch the boy. As luck would have it, he landed right into his Oskar's outstretched arms. Fortunately, he was a rather slight figure and didn't place too much pressure on his wound. The boy was clutching a bow; presumably he was the mystery archer. Oskar felt like berating him for getting into combat despite being so young, but he had started his career as a mercenary even younger.
"Lucky I was in the right place at the right time, eh?" Oskar grinned at him, "Find somewhere more discreet this time."

It seemed that the archer was not the only one in need of aid. There was someone who appeared to be a young girl hobbling towards the village. She appeared to be wounded, and badly so. Oskar pulled his sword from the churned up ground, sheathed it and hurried over to the girl.
"You look like you need some help." Oskar told her, "Stay close to me, kid, I'll get you somewhere safe."

Ephony had barely begun chatting up the local tavern regulars of the small Renais village when calamity broke loose. She was going on her fifth day in Magvel, her travels taking her from the port on the western coast of Renais, to this small village in the Renais-Grado border. Largely, Ephony found that most people did not really question her traveling with the dark cloak and paid her no mind. Taguel were not native to Magvel, and she wanted to keep as low a profile as possible.

It was with this in mind, that Ephony resisted the urge to go to the defense of this town. These moral situations were very difficult for Ephony. Her intelligent mind screamed for her to stay with the huddled villagers in the tavern, but her body ached to help this village from the raid of these bandits.

The decision of getting involved was made for her when the back door to the tavern blew open and two bandits, one wielding an axe and the other brandishing a sword. “Alright everyone, hand over all of your valuables!”

The two bandits began to seize everything the poor villagers had to offer, which wasn't very substantial.
“How about you pretty lady, you have anything for us?” asked the brigand holding the axe from across the high table she was standing and enjoying her pint.

Ephony raised her mug to her mouth and took a sip, and only after it left her lips did she respond with, “Sorry, you've caught me on an off day. No trinkets on me.”

“I'll be more than happy to remove it from your corpse!” With that, the bandit raised his axe high above his head, and Ephony threw her mug half filled with ale directly in the eyes of the bandit.

With a loud scream the bandit staggered backwards momentarily, only to charge forward with more rage, axe in front of him. Ephony kicked the table up and the axe drove through the wood. Charging forward herself Ephony slammed her heel on the kneecap of the bandit, driving him down. A swift kick to the table drove the bandit's own axe into his neck, lacerating his jugular and ending his life with a wet cough.

Before Ephony could be satisfied with her work the other bandit was already sending his sword tip first at her right side. A quick step back was enough to dodge her being skewered completely, but not enough to entirely dodge the blade. It tore her cloak in half and gave a shallow cut across her abdomen. The bandit continued to charge forward and knocked himself into her with such force that they slammed through the old wooden door to the tavern, spilling both of them into the streets where the carnage was still unfolding.

Rolling to her feet well before the bandit could Ephony brought her foot down on the back of his neck as hard as she could. With the slightly higher strength the taguel possessed a solid crack could be felt under her boot, signaling the end of another brute.

Outside Ephony had only seconds to survey her surroundings. During her tumble, it was apparent that many of the would-be defenders had been injured, some beyond the capacity to continue the fight. The larger mercenary that had begun the fight was huddled near an injured female mercenary, a slender archer, and an immobile thief. The wyvern knights continued their struggles taking out as many of the bandits as their large dragons could handle and the girl who was causing the light magic earlier was on one of the dragons, presumably also out of commission.

Only a small boy on the outskirts of the battle looked uninjured, for the time being. He was playing his flute and sending an empowering melody over the harsh roar of combat. The only problem was the boy was so focused on his melody, that he did not realize the bandit charging forward with a spear in his hands, ready to impale the poor boy.

“Hey! Run! Get out of the way!” The young gypsy did not move. Acting completely on instinct Ephony ran at top speed, bounding forward in almost jump like strides, planting both of her feet firmly on the ground with a loud battlecry Ephony launched herself with a dropkick at the bandit, feet collapsing on the side of his face, and a sickening pop being heard, his neck contorting visibly out of place.

She landed on her side and sprang to her feet. She stared down the remaining bandits who had taken notice of the bard. Over her shoulder she turned to the bard, “Are you okay?” Given no chance to answer, some of the bandits began to take tentative steps forward, her appearance obviously intimidating.

A fury rose in Ephony, and a gutteral snarl escaped her lips, “You will not kill this boy! Stay away!” she snarled. With that, the taguel raced forward, clutching her beaststone, and calling upon her power. In a flash of light, the beautiful young woman morphed into a silver white bestial rabbit, and she raced into the fray to meet the three bandits that would dare raise a sword against the innocent boy with a flute.

Nimble fingers graced the old flute deftly as the rousing melody continued to play. Calais closed his eyes, unaware that he was even doing so, and let the music take over. As the boy played, he recalled the lyrics of the tune vaguely...

'Thou naive king, dost bear a foolish heart,
I'll see ye slain here in yon court.
Thine own love shall -'

A cry shattered his concentration and he snapped back to reality with a start. Before him, a tall woman was standing over the body of a bandit. Her long silver hair starkly contrasted against the dreary, blook-soaked backdrop that was this day.

"You will not kill this boy! Stay away!" The woman snarled at the remaining brigands who were beginning to advance.

'She protected me?'

Of course. Here he was on a battlefield holding a flute. This was no place for music! What was he thinking running out here? Mentally kicking himself for being so daft, Calais felt the onset of panic and adrenaline sweep over his body once again and he instantly yearned for the melody to return.

As the boy was about to turn and flee, something caught his eye. A flash of white...and then his jaw went slack. A creature, a giant...something was bounding into the fray where, just moments before, his unnamed savior had stood. The mysterious being sported long ears and claws the length of his own hand. Red eyes glowed brightly in the dismal rain. From head to toe the creature was covered in white fur -

'White...'

- that gave way to dark skin on each of its limbs.

'That woman!'

Calais couldn't explain the "why" or the "how" but there was no doubt in his mind that this creature was the woman who'd just saved his life mere seconds ago. He watched in amazement as she bounded into the heart of the battlefield effortlessly. With each stride she appeared to dance through the enemies, striking them in their blind spots and then darting away before he could even be sure she was really there at all.

Feet seemingly rooted to the ground, all he could do was gape at the spectacle. It wasn't until he'd heard voices behind him that he tore his gaze away from the fight.

Some distance away, the large man with the scarlet cape was carrying someone in his arms while another, obviously wounded girl was standing nearby.

'Everyone is fighting so hard...what am I supposed to do...?'

The thought of charging headfirst into battle to save the day for these people sounded like a great idea. The chance of death or dismemberment that came with it...didn't seem as appealing. Still, if these people were trying so valiantly to save this backwater village, the least he could do was to contribute somehow.

Running over to the trio, Calais spoke to the man in crimson...

"I'll keep them safe. Go out there and kill stuff!"

Without waiting for a response, the boy then turned his attention to the wounded girl. She seemed to be in an intense amount of pain. Droplets of sweat were sliding down her cheeks. Calais put an arm around her shoulder.

"Take it easy, all right? C'mon...sit down over here."

The girl was young. Too young. Her petite frame and delicate features would seem more appropriate on a barmaid or seamstress, not a soldier on a battlefield. It was sad. These bandits had to be stopped so that girls like this wouldn't have to be out here, bleeding and freezing in the rain.

Desperate to do whatever he could to ease her pain, he fumbled through his pockets until he found one of the vulneraries he'd tucked away. He was just about to uncork the top when a familiar voice reached his ears.

"So this is where you ran off to, boy? Come on now. We have unfinished business, you and I..."

The deep, raspy tone made Calais' heart sink. It was him...the fur-clad brigand from earlier! His sword hoisted up on one shoulder, the man grimmaced at the young gypsy. Without warning, he lifted the blade high above his head and swung downward. Calais rolled to the side, feet slipping on the wet ground as he landed hard on his knees. He heard the wet spash as the sword struck mud behind him. Turning over onto his back, he saw the bandit raise the sword again. A bright flash of lightning illuminating his crazed face in an instant.

Instinctively, Calais, still clutching the vulnerary in one trembling hand, whipped it at the man. It hit him in the face, shattering upon impact and sending the medicine splashing everywhere. Fine cuts formed red lines on his jaw and forehead. Spitting on the ground, the bandit swore and began to advance upon the boy with renewed rage.

"Curse you, whelp!!"

The dreaded greatsword was swinging down at him once again, and it was all Calais could do to draw his own blade and block the hit.

CLANG!

Metal on metal reverberated through the air. The force made Calais' entire body rattle, his arms crumpling under the weight. He saw his sword spiraling away, landing in the mud somewhere behind him.

'I am going to die here...'

The young man's ears were ringing and his mouth was dry. Heart pounding so hard in his chest that it actually hurt.

'I am going to die.'

The bandit licked his lips, a smiling forming across them that made the gypsy shiver. He lifted that accursed sword once more. That was when Calais saw it...the dagger strapped to the man's belt.

'...no.'

Despair quickly turning into hope, Calais knew now was the time to act.

'No!'

In a flash he was on his feet, legs pumping, pushing him straight toward the fearsome brigand. With a desperate and empowering cry, the boy threw himself into the man, his hand finding the hilt of the knife.

'NO!'

The bandit was taken by surprise and his eyes grew wide. His mouth flew open in a silent scream when he felt the sting of his own blade drive into his abdomen.

Calais latched onto the man with one hand, the other driving the dagger home again and again and again.

'NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!'

Over and over again the boy stabbed, feeling the thick warmth of blood overtaking his arm.

With a raspy death rattle, the bandit toppled over backward with a sickening thud, Calais falling on top of him. Rolling off of him, the boy stared at the ominous clouds above. How quickly they swept and tumbled across the sky... How quickly life can turn to death...

As the rain continued to fall it washed away the evidence of the struggle. Streams of diluted blood ran down Calais' arm and fell, saturating the already-soaked earth below.

He was alive.

As Oskar was helping the girl to safety a glimmer of silver caught his eye. He looked more closely, and his jaw dropped in disbelief. In front of him a gargantuan, silver-furred creature that resembled a rabbit was tearing through what was still left of the bandits. He was sure that he was hallucinating; perhaps one of the bandits' weapons had been coated in poison. He rubbed his eyes forcefully, but the giant rabbit was still there. It seemed to be on his side; things would certainly be far worse if it were an enemy.

"I'll keep them safe. Go out there and kill stuff!"
It was the gypsy again. Oskar quickly handed the girl into his care and set off once again onto the battlefield. Oskar drew his sword once again, and strode towards the remaining few bandits. There were only five of the buggers left, and they had all clumped together for protection. Oskar brandished his blade as he approached them; a sneer growing on his face. He was going to enjoy this.
"So, lads, how are we going to do this?" Oskar grinned, "Either you can all run off and never return, or I can kill you all here and now." he drew closer to the bandits, "Well? What will it be?"
The brigands looked at each other worriedly, each one waiting for another to make the first move. Eventually, one ran off as fast as his legs would carry him. The others quickly followed suite. However, Oskar gave chase to one, and knocked him to the ground as soon as he caught up. He pressed the man's head onto the ground with his knee, grabbed his left arm with both hands and used the rest of his weight to pin the man to the ground.
"That wasn't the full force, was it?" Oskar asked, "There are more of you, aren't there? Now, tell me, where are the rest of your bandit friends?"
"Fuck you!" the brigand snarled.
Oskar pressed down on the man's triceps with one hand and wrenched his forearm upwards with his other. There was a cry of agony from the bandit as a loud, sickening crack from his elbow joint as it was wrenched out of place.
"You won't get another chance." Oskar snarled, "Where are they?"
"Just on the Grado side of the border!" the brigand stuttered, "We have an abandoned military fortress in the hills. You'll be slaughtered if you attack, though, it's well fortified and there are even more of us there."
"Good enough." Oskar responded and released the bandit, "I wouldn't go back there, if I were you."
The bandit struggled to his feet and hobbled off, cradling his broken arm like a newborn.

Well, it was all over. Oskar grinned to himself; he'd survived what had seemed like an unwinnable battle at the start. Miracles really did come true. He pulled a vulnerary from his pouch, uncorked it and wiped the solution over his wounds. It wouldn't close them, but it would ease the pain and speed up their closure. He placed the cork back in and returned it to his satchel. He surveyed the battlefield; everyone appeared to be alive. However, the thief was sprawled out on the ground and appeared incapable of moving. She was still breathing, so she was definitely alive.
"You alright down there?" Oskar asked as he walked over to her, "You look like you need a hand."
Without waiting for any sort of response, Oskar hoisted her up in his arms and sat her down on a bench.
"You fought well." Oskar told her as he sat down beside her, "I'm glad you were on our side."

As quickly as Ephony had made the startling transformation from human to beast, did she return back to her human form, feeling slightly disgusted in herself for having to resort to its use. The bandits proved to provide little resistance to her in her beast form, she darted about the battlefield as fast as he bounding feet would take her, claws rending flesh from bone. The element of surprise was heavily on her surprise as the men probably didn't even know of a Taguel's existence, let alone fight one. She did not leave the battle completely unscathed though. Small wounds that had little to no effect in slowing her down as a beast pained her greatly as a human, and she reached down and took a vulnerary out of her satchel tied at her hip, emptying its contents gingerly on her wounds.

Surveying the aftermath of the battle, rain seemed to wash away most evidence of a struggle, save for the physical damage done to buildings and the corpses that now lay in the streets. Ephony's impossibly long and thick hair was soaked to the roots, sticking to her body in gray clumps. She must look ridiculous to the rest of the combatants as they wandered around, looking slightly lost, not really knowing what to do next. Ephony shared the sentiment. Was she supposed to introduce herself? Or was she supposed to quietly take her leave, and be the mysterious beast-woman who helped save this town?

Ephony did not want to be a tale midwives told children through generations of this village, so Ephony decided to return to where they all seemed to be gathering.

Two large dragons were positioned near the group, and Ephony admired them, mentally thanking them for their efforts. They were very majestic, brave, and intelligent creatures to follow their masters into battle. One of their masters was impossibly tall, and had a regal look to him that Ephony recognized as nobility. The other was standing guard over a girl that collapsed presumably during the fight. She had an even rhythym to her heart and breathing so Ephony did not panic. But she could not help but feel sorry for the poor girl.

The other two women that fought bravely against the shaman were equally standing in silence. The more roguish looking one was standing with a look of pure boredom upon her face. The other was collecting herself after the battle, and looked to be in deep thought over the battlefield. The bard and archer were still a little from the group. Ephony was thankful that the young musician survived, and that the slender archer was protected as well.

As she was walking towards the group, Ephony couldn't help but feel eyes from every direction home in on her. Her cloaked had been destroyed and she now stood there in her battle garments, nothing shielding herself from their judging eyes.

“I intent to tempt fate. But I am not a fool, and I would not make it far alone. If any of you have reason to flush the rest of these bandits from their den, I would accompany you gladly.”

It was the tall wyvern knight who spoke. Even his speech carried an air of command to it that immediately caused shivers to go down Ephony's spine. At this point, there wasn't anywhere that Ephony needed to be, and joining a group was safer for her than traveling alone.

“I too would like to finish what we started here. If left unchecked, the bandits will only return. Besides, life needs a little excitement, don't you think?” Ephony tried to sound friendly. If they decided they liked her personality, then maybe they wouldn't mind being in the company of a beast.

Alysia groaned as her eyes opened. Everything ached. It wasn't the good ache that she got after a good workout. It was a new ache to her. The slow, painful throb of what she was sure was a broken rib under her armor, accented by the scream of pain that her right arm shot through her mind when she tried to use it to sit up.

She managed not to scream when she saw the wyvern standing over her, but the sight of the beast did reassure her that her heart worked fine: It started right back up after it stopped. She managed to look past the beast's impressive figure to the man riding it, and realized that she was still sitting on the ground like an idiot. Slowly, relying on her left side so that she wouldn't aggravate any of her injuries further, she stood up. People were gathered around, not because of her, she decided. Regardless, she needed to get her injuries checked out.

"Excuse me?" She called. "Does anyone here have a Heal staff?" She looked to the battered, bloody body of the bandit that she'd fought earlier. "And a spare sword?"

With no other audible sounds the falling rain seemed to crash down, making Calais' ears ring. In truth, it wasn't as heavy as before. With a slight groan, the boy stood up. Unruly hair was now matted to his forehead in dripping strands and as he swept it out of his eyes he caught sight of the group nearby.

None of them seemed to be seriously injured. Even that young soldier had managed to stand, though she still looked pale and unsteady. The man in the crimson cloak appeared to have taken charge. He was talking about bringing the fight to the bandits' hideout.

A sickening lurch of dread overtook Calais' senses for a moment as he realized what he must do... The entire purpose of him coming here was to put an end to the bandits' reign of terror over Jehanna; over his people. Turning tail now wouldn't solve anything. The boy knew that he had to go. Besides...doing something you don't want to do suddenly becomes much more manageable when you have no choice in the matter.

With a brief sigh he was on his feet. Shaking droplets of rain off his clothes, Calais began to remember. He thought about the time when he first began to dance and perform in front of an audience... After one particular performance, he'd received a great reaction from the audience as they laughed aloud. It wasn't until he'd gone back inside his caravan that he realized he'd torn a hole in the back of his pants and that was what everyone had been laughing at... It was a silly thing to remember but it served its purpose; Calais now wore a smile across his face. Laughing to himself, he pushed aside any negative thoughts and blinded himself with optimism. Why worry about something you have no control over anyhow? With a newfound spring in his step, the gypsy boy made his way over to the group of fighters that had come together to save the village.

"Hey!" He chimed, cheeks turning slightly red when faces turned in his direction. "If you're going to the bandits' hideout, count me in. I have unfinished business with them, myself."

When he didn't receive an immediate reply he continued to speak...

"I, uhh...promise I won't get in the way. I swear! You don't even have to pay me! And I won't be a bother at all. I hardly eat anything and I'm quiet as a mouse! So, uh...heh...yeah."

He was losing them. Fast.

"Oh! And um, don't worry about protecting me or anything. I can take care of myself! I may not be the best fighter there is but I can help in other ways...!"

He reached for his flute and held it out for the others to see. With a slightly pained grin on his face, Calais looked over his newfound friends, trying not to keep his gaze on the female members for too long and failing.

It was perfect...or at least as good as he was going to get. They had wyverns, spells, swords, and even a ruthless bunny babe! Add his music and they had a force that would decimate any bandits that stood in their way!

Like the picture on one of his mother's tarot cards depicts - the Wheel of Fate was beginning to turn.

“Sure hun, my name is Ephony and I am a taguel. I am native to Ylisse, a continent to the west of Magvel. Taguel are human, beast hybrids. We each have an animal in our family that we can morph into with the use of a beaststone. My family can morph into a rabbit-like creature. In human form I’m the same as the rest of you, with a little extra pep in my step.”
Ylisse? There was a continent beyond Magvel? Were all inhabitants of Ylisse members of this "taguel" race? Why were there no taguel on Magvel? So many questions, but the whole concept made so little sense. Perhaps these taguel were like the manaketes of legend, only they transformed into things other than dragons.
Ephony ended her speech with a suggestive wink in Oskar's direction. Well, she was certainly forward; they'd only known each other for a minute. However, the sweet tone of her voice, the ending comment and her revealing clothing set off alarm bells inside Oskar's head. It was entirely possible that she was attempting to seduce him in order to rob him blind or extort him into becoming a walking purse. She wouldn't be the first to make such an attempt. Oskar simply smiled back at her, only without the suggestiveness that she had sent him.

"Does anyone here have a Heal staff? And a spare sword?"
The small girl appeared to have regained consciousness. Unfortunately, nobody seemed to be a healer, but there were plenty of swords lying on the ground from slain raiders. Oskar stooped down and picked up the nearest sword that was small enough for the girl to wield without too much difficulty. He almost tossed it to her, but stopped himself before he accidentally impaled her.
"This looks like it's about the right size for you." Oskar commented as he handed her the blade, "I've no fancy staff, but I'm sure there's a village healer somewhere.

Oskar turned to the rest of the group before speaking:
"Everyone who's coming, meet up here at eight in the morning. We'll set off immediately. Until then, I have business to attend to."
With that, Oskar took off to the inn.

Right on the other side of the open door was the mayor, looking relieved because the bandit threat had been disposed of, but also terrified because he had not forgotten Oskar's threat.
"O-Oskar..." the mayor stammered as he attempted to form a smile.
It wasn't enough to calm Oskar. Oskar grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pushed him into the bar.
"Money. NOW." Oskar snarled, his face mere inches away from that of the mayor.
The mayor fumbled in his pockets and produced a purse of coins which he tossed to Oskar. Oskar massaged the purse before pocketing it and once again turning his attention to the mayor.
"That's just my pay." Oskar complained, "There are nine of us."
"I-I can't possibly afford th-th-that!" the mayor babbled, sweat pouring down his forehead in torrents.
"Fine." Oskar responded as he pushed the terrified man away from him, "But I want a couple of horses and wagon big enough to house us."
The mayor nodded meekly but quickly before hurrying from the building. Well, now that was over with, Oskar could finally get himself a room.



As the sun rose ever higher in the sky it cast its light through the gap between Oskar's curtains and over his tightly closed eyelids. The light was enough to force them open, and Oskar groggily woke up. His whole body ached from yesterday's brawl, but the ache would go away soon enough; it always did. He opened his curtains and looked down at the town square. Sure enough, the horses and cart he had been promised were waiting outside the inn. Nobody else had turned up yet, so he could afford to take his time. He dressed slowly, slung his sword over his shoulder and left his room.

After a hearty breakfast, Oskar left the inn. Still nobody outside. Oskar decided that he would use this time to inspect the horses and carriage. The wagon was covered with a canvas and had benches inside to sit on. It looked easily big enough to hold the whole group, only 6 of whom would actually be in the carriage, since the Grado soldiers would be riding their wyverns and somebody would have to drive. The horses appeared to be fairly healthy, and with any luck they would stay that way. Oskar pulled himself up into the driver's seat, and lay back and relaxed while he waited.

After Oskar, the first to arrive was the lanky, blonde Grado soldier, accompanied by his wyvern. He had identified himself as "Cespar Stern" the night before, and his wyvern as "Lorcan". He seemed like a very sincere man, and was clearly outraged at the lack of effort that his country had put into keeping its borders clean. When asked if everything was to his liking, Oskar simply nodded in response.

The next to arrive was Lenore, who was clearly in need of some more sleep. Strands of her hair were sticking out in places, her eyes lacked the shine they had bore yesterday, and was yawning loudly. Oskar hadn't been a morning person when he was younger, but his job had quickly beaten it out of him.

Ephony joined the company more extravagantly than the others; she jumped straight from the inn's rooftop down to the group. If Oskar tried that, he would break both his legs, and his back if he was unlucky. Having someone that agile would certainly be a great help. Oskar returned her "Good morning" politely.

Then came the thief, who still hadn't given her name. She ignored everyone else and went straight for Lorcan, to whom she seemed to have taken a liking. She then climbed into the wagon and flicked her eyes from person to person in a rather unnerving fashion.

To Oskar's surprise, the girl from before who had been beaten up pretty badly turned up on horseback. If she had a horse, why hadn't she stayed on it? Perhaps she just preferred fighting on foot.

The other wyvern rider arrived soon afterward. He quickly rode over to his fellow knight and took his position beside him. Harlaus was far more rigid than Cespar, and clearly cared a great deal more about his appearance.

The last to arrive were Donovan and Calais. Oskar had been surprised the night before when Calais had offered to come, but he was in no position to be picky about where help was coming from. Donovan's joining was less surprising, since he was actually capable of wielding a weapon.

"Well, that's everyone." Oskar announced, "We shall depart immediately. Any objections?"
If there were, then nobody mentioned them. So, Oskar cracked the reins and the horses set off, pulling the cart with them. The three not using the cart followed closely behind.

---

After less than an hour of travelling, they were inside Grado. The road had led them down a narrow, winding path down the mountainside, a path that only just had room for the cart on it. Oskar looked down into the valley and at the bottom of the valley was a fort. Presumably that was their target. It seemed rather badly positioned; enemies could surround it on all sides and would also have the high ground. Perhaps that was why the military abandoned it. Oskar couldn't see properly from this distance, but it didn't look quite as dilapidated as it might be. In fact, he swore that he could see ballistae and cannons mounted on the battlements, and he could also swear that there were people milling around them. Some of those people appeared to be carrying sacks, large spheres and ballistae bolts. Realising that they would soon be victims to open fire, Oskar spurred the horses into action, going straight from a trot to a gallop.

A slender woman with long flowing pink hair made her way up onto the ramparts to survey the process.
"Faster, you dolts!" she snapped, "If you carry on at this rate, they'll be here before you've even loaded a single ballista!"
The bandits immediately sped up, for fear of what she might do to them if she got any angrier. One hurried over to her, empty handed.
"Miss Sylvia-" he began, but was abruptly stopped by Sylvia slapping him round the cheek with the back of her hand, her sharp nails leavings gouges in his skin, "Milady," Sylvia smiled this time and gestured for him to continue, "There is a woman near the east side of the fort. She appears to be a mage of some sort; she clearly has a staff with her. What should we do?"
"She's just a healer." Sylvia scoffed, "Did she look rich?"
"She didn't look poor." the bandit answered.
"Rob her blind, then." Sylvia ordered, "Bring back everything she had. Kill her if you want, but it really won't matter either way. The worst a healer could do is whinge about us to the law, who can't be bothered to do anything about us."
The bandit nodded and scuttled off, presumably to follow orders. Sylvia turned her attention to the west rampart, where the cannons and ballistae were being loaded. Most of them were ready to fire by the time she had turned around.
"What are you waiting for?!" Sylvia hissed, "Don't shoot the wyverns though, they'll fetch us a pretty penny."

Oskar heard a whistling in the air and turned to see a ballista bolt sailing through the air, right towards the cart. It impaled one of the two horses and splintered the front of the cart, breaking off the driver's seat from the passenger compartment. Oskar had almost found his balance when two cannonballs smashed into the mountainside, destroying the road beneath their feet and sending Oskar tumbling down into the valley. Terror gripped him as he was hurled to the valley floor and almost certain death.

Oskar was far more lucky than he thought he would be, but that didn't mean that he was in a good shape. He had landed in a copse in the valley and was currently sprawled out on the grass beneath an oak. Blood was pouring down from his forehead into his eyes, all but blinding him. While his whole body hurt, his left arm, his sword arm, felt far worse than the rest of his body. He attempted to move it, but to no avail. It was broken. He tried to push himself to his feet, but all that resulted in was him coughing up blood. He couldn't die here. He mustn't. Kai and Freya were waiting for him at home, the villagers had nobody to guard them, his comrades needed help! Were his comrades even alive? They could well have all been killed in the barrage, leaving him as the only survivor. God dammit, where had those bandits acquired ammunition from? The military wouldn't simply leave gunpowder, cannonballs and ballista bolts lying around near abandoned siege weapons for anyone to find and fire. He could think about that later, right now he had to get to safety. However, that was easier said than done; his own blood was clouding his vision, his left arm was broken and he couldn't stand. He tried to pick himself up once more, but only coughed up more blood. It was pointless. He could do nothing but wait to bleed out or be found by a bandit and killed. Speaking of bandits, Oskar could see a figure approaching him through the curtain of blood over his eyes. He couldn't make out anything about them, other than that they were a person. With any luck it was one of his comrades, but he strongly doubted that any of them were healthy enough to be walking. Oskar just closed his eyes and awaited whatever fate had dealt him.