"It was often repeated to me that the oldest and strongest of mankind’s emotions was fear, and that the oldest and strongest of fears was fear of the unknown.

As such, the most merciful thing in this universe, I fathom, was the inability of the mortal mind to correlate its contents."

--Hannin of Dawns The Librus Pelagius

CHAPTER ONE
The Beginnings of What We Know Now


The Midsummer Fair. How vain the days, how loud the nights!
It was well past the morning bell on the second day of the fair when finally Ikin's caravan pulled through the gates of Bardusk. The road south was not kind to them this year.

The town was practically bursting at the seams, and the merchant’s quarter - madness run amok.

"Serves the North right, showing up a day late..." The dwarf grunted before bellowing, "Alright, get these wagons over to the west court and setup'em right proper!"

The lead rider gave a curt nod and proceeded onward as Ikin jumped off there, near the town's rather lavish Playhouse.
Of course he was immediately lost in the crowd.

The smell of roasted pork and honey was in the air as Ikin huffed and puffed his way up the steps of the theater.
There upon the upper landing and before the doors stood a man grinning.
Vincent Valkylin was his name, and the Bard's Abode was his.

Crossing his arms over his padded leather tunic, the proprietor leaned against a nearby pillar and gave a low whistle, "What beauty fletches the North as to send the likes of you flying to us!"

"Take that fancy double talk and stick it Vincent." Ikin retorted taking a bow.

"That's lord Valkylin to you, lord Ikin." Vincent returned the bow, "Now come here and let me rub some warmth into that cold beard of yours!"

Ikin slapped the probing hands away, "The North take you, blasted child lordling!"
And the young man laughed.

"Why do I ever bother with coming down here." The dwarf grumbled scraping dung off the bottom of his shoe, "A rotten pen is was Bardusk is."

"Oh come now," The thin lordly bard mused, grinning absurdly, "In a time as yet to come my dear dwarf, we will look back and remark 'Of what we know now, these were truly the days of our beginnings.'"

With that Lord Valkylin flourished toward the chaos of the town before them, and they stood taking in the sight.

Dúlin moved slowly through the crowded the streets of the fair. He was following his mark a man who had proved quite elusive for the last week till he had finally arrived at the Bardusk’s Midsummer Fair much to Dúlin enjoyment fairs made work easier for him and brought him a lot of business. All these people from faraway places meant someone would die. He didn’t care what for as long they paid his price.

Dúlin loved crowds they helped him get around; what was one darkly dressed hooded man when he was blocked by throngs of happy laughing idiots. The smells and sounds from the stalls wound their way through the crowds but he ignored them food had lost any real taste and trinkets were of no value in his line of work.

He stopped and scanned the crowd locating his mark as the man was leaving an exotic food stall. The mark was a fat round man whose shirt was already stained with dozens of different foods just from this morning. The man was busy stuffing his mouth with little sweet pastries and licking his fingers as Dúlin walked into him knocking the fat man’s pastries onto the ground. “Sorry… Sorry, m’Lord.” Dúlin said his voice weak and frail sounding like an Old man. It was his favorite act he would be an elderly gentleman and nobody thought anything of it if he bumped into someone.

The mark waved his hand dismissing the act “No worries it was an accident.” Taking the man’s chubby hand into his own Dúlin said “You are so kind my son may Avandra bless you and bring you luck. As Dúlin turned away the fat man bent to pick up his pastries. A smile ghosted Dúlin lips beneath his mask the fat man would kill himself eating those pastries. The pastries wouldn’t even be the death of him but the poison that Dúlin had just put on his hand would.

Dúlin disappeared into the crowd once again a face without a name as the fat man doubled over choking to the horror of on lookers.

"Do you know why Mi'zral holds these yearly fairs." Lady Elsah asked in the common tongue, glancing over at the odd old monk hovering by her exotic stalls.

Seer Hammon, representative of the order of magi, looked up with a disapproving gaze, "For the gold of course."

Elsah smirked, "Now you and I both know that is not true."

The Elven stalls always pulled large crowds. Exotic liquors, trinkets, and gypsy tricks brought in the gold. And gold was the reason merchant lords like Elsah came to the fair, but not why the fair was held.

"No, no i believe it's to get people like you and I together. Mi'zral just wants to see what mischief we can conjure." The tall lean woman mused, "That and the fights in the tourney give him a real rise. Sadistic really."

The monk huffed, "Well I for one care little of what intentions hold sway m'lady. It's the items that intrigued me. One never knows what treasures people might deem useless."

"hmmm." Elsah tapped her lip, "Is that why they call you 'seer' Hammon?" Obviously referring to the monk only having one eye.

She didn't give him a chance to respond, "And what do you suppose they call that one? Over there across the way."

Hammon followed the woman's eyes to a man dressed in black moving through the crowd, "That old plague doctor? There's deaths and wounds every year at the fair, what of it?"

"Is that what you think his intentions pertain to? Are those the things he treasures?"

Hammon sighed, clearly agitated, "And what of you Lady Elf, what is it you treasure, why are you here, besides the oh so unimportant gold?"

The elf only smiled, rather pleasantly.

As the living sea flowed and churned through the fairgrounds, one stall keeper kept to himself in a serene silence. He was a lean muscular man clad in a reinforced leather tunic and leggings. Thick leather boots protected his feet, which were propped up on a rock. The man sat silently in a chair as he casually smoked a wooden pipe held by a large burly hand. A thick dark beard covered most of his weather-worn face, while coal black hair cascaded down his jaw line. Dark brown eyes stared into oblivion, lost in thought. With his other hand, the man fondled a large Bowie knife that rested on his lap. Beside him leaning against the chair he sat in was a sheathed sword, a composite bow, and a quiver full of arrows. At his feet slept an enormous canine with fur black as night.

Surrounding the man were several racks filled with various animal skins. The empty eye sockets of foxes, deer, raccoons, wolves, and mountain lions stared at the passing crowds. Racks of smoked meats also surrounded him, intoxicating the air with their scent. Several jars filled with various herbs, dried leaves, roots, and dried fruits encircled him, along with a small sack of coins.

As he sat staring at the flowing sea of the crowds, the smells and sounds of the fair began to caress his senses. The dull roar of the crowd was like the sound of a distant storm about to release its burden onto the thirsty canopy below. Fresh mead and mutton cooked over an open fire. The scents filled his nostrils… Smoke. Flames. Burning flesh. A child screaming.

Anna…

"Commander Emberheart, I do NOT need a babysitter." Emissary Lesha protested hastily walking on across the promenade.

"Orders are orders m'lady" Dallyss retorted keeping pace with the little woman from Kryn.

A central stage was being erected in the middle of the fairgrounds, to announce the days schedule no doubt. The sun gleamed off the corner posts being hoisted into the air.

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Regardless of what your lord Mi'zral may think!" Lesha was saying, when a sudden collection of gasps and hollers rose from the eastern section of stalls.
Before the emissary could even ask what had happened, Dallyss had already motioning two guards stationed near by to go investigate the situation.

"The fair is a dirty business m'lady. Can't have Kryn delegates going missing." The commander explained walking on.

Lesha pursed her lips into a thin line, "Right, because that would just be bad dirty business."

What a strange place, full of even stranger people. Things were so much easier back in Kryn, where politics were the only games played and laws were definitive.
Here, everything was a mess. Yet year after year, Mi'zral's little fiasco persisted.

Lesha found herself staring at a particular display not far up ahead. Dead eyes bore down upon her from racks lined with meat and fur. Their curator was seated nearby, lost in thought. Lesha had heard of men like him, those who braved the wilds.

"M'lady?" She heard the commander ask.

"Why are we so reckless with life, commander. What is it about pain that we embrace it so dearly." the delegate from Kryn pondered aloud watching the man and his pet.

"Pain breeds courage m'lady. We can't be brave if all we've had are wonderful things happen to us..." Commander Emberheart spoke up, nodding in respect to the ranger, whom she knew from his previous visits to Bardusk.

Lesha turned, "Courage HA!" She shook her head, "Only on the brink do we see who a person truly is. In those moments when the walls shatter and all seems to be in ruin, it will not be your guards who will come, with such honeyed words, to save us."

"No m'lady, you are right." The commander could see the surprise in the emissary's eyes, "It will be men like him."

The shadowlancer shifted his body forward, slightly springing himself from the wooden frame post of the stall that he decided to lean on. The polished armor appearing black, the mage watching the scene of an obese man falling over dead at the stall directly in front of him. The scene stirred up quite a response, even bringing in two Bardusken guards to investigate. Hand resting on the pummel of Retribution, a two-handed runeblade with a sizable emerald the size of a child's fist embedded into the hilt, the silent watcher started to walk away.

The last person that Keras had observed talking to the poor man was a plague doctor, and he is certain that he was the one responsible for the death. Signalling two other shadowlancers nearby, one elven like himself and the other being a human female, Keras had decided it was time to move on. He wasn't going to chase down this particular person, mainly because he simply didn't care. It wasn't an Elf that he killed, so it was the least of his problems.

"You three. Stop right there."

Keras and the two others shadowlancers stopped after moving a good ten feet from where they were previously standing. The two guards had stopped them for questioning.

"Where do you three think you're going all of a sudden?" The same guard barked the question out at them, wanting an imediate answer from them.

The human shadowlancer, whom went by the name of Aliza, decided it was best to speak out for the trio. "Nothing, sir. We were just brows-"

"Shut up woman. I wasn't asking you for your opinion." The first guard interrupted her, setting both an annoyed look upon her face as well and slowly set the catalyst for her anger to rise upon. Reaching for one of her hidden crossbows, she quickly caught a glimpse from Keras, a silent No, and she slowly withdrew her hand away from the weapon.

All three slightly annoyed at the rude response coming from the guard, the other, Marilos, tried to finish Aliza's sentence before she was cut off. "Look, we're not here to cause trouble. We were just browsing through the goods offered outside of our little section."

The second guard chimed in. "Oh, look, we got ourselves another easterner-"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Keras cut off the second guard, keeping the other two from lashing out and starting a fight with the guard. Right now isn't a good time to start a fight, he thought to himself. "Guards, sorry about not being any help right now, but we really need to be going. You insulting us isn't going to help your case, as not only did you lose what little respect we had, but now you're just wasting our time. Good day."

Keras motioned to continue on their way back to Lady Elsah and to report back to her that there is an assassin within the fairgrounds. However, these two guards have started to make this difficult for them...

Dúlin scanned the crowd checking to see if anyone was paying attention before he slipped into an alleyway. After checking again to see if no one was watching he abandoned the old man act straitening up and rolling his shoulders when he continued on his way again he had no limp. He hurried through the side streets keeping his hood low over his face to cover the plague doctor mask. He arrived at a junction in the alleyways where three different paths branched from the one he was on.

He would have been lost had he not spent yesterday evening planning his route. To get to his home he would take the left path but he took the right path instead to meet his employer so that he would get paid for the mark he just killed. Taking the right path he put up his act again not sure of who might be watching now that he approached the meeting place, hunching low and walking with a slow limp he started up again. Following the numerous twists and turns he made his slow way through the stinking alleyways arriving at the back of a low building he saw he employer with a bodyguard on either side.

He stopped and called out in a weak voice “Your job is done the Fat man will eat no more.” His employer looked up startled “Good, you have performed your task like asked there is only one matter to settle the payment.” The man carefully approached Dúlin his guards flanking him he stopped within just out of arms reach. “The job cost 700g” Dúlin said holding out his hand. The man dropped a small pouch into Dúlin’s hand “That’s 300g take it or leave it you’re an old man you might be able to kill a 1 fat man but you can’t take three of us in fair combat.” The man smiled coldly at Dúlin.

Suddenly Dúlin barked cruelly as he straightened to his full height of six feet “I neither fight fair nor am I an old man.” As he said this he dropped a small clay ball from his hand as it hit the floor he closed his eye’s protecting them from the blinding flash caused by the ball. The man and his body guards screamed as they were blinded in that same moment Dúlin drew two of his blades and let them, the daggers slammed into chests of both body guards who went down like rocks. He opened his eyes and drew his sword and remaining dagger ready to fight the last man but his onetime employer was still clutching at his eyes. Dúlin sheathed his sword and knocked the legs out from under the last man causing him to land flat on his back.

Dúlin knelt down his knee on the last man’s chest. The man was looking at him now fear in his eye’s “It’s unfortunate that every time I come to a new city someone tries to cheat me because they think I’m an old man who’s only skill is poisons.” Dúlin looked at the man; the mask on Dúlin’s face would be enough to cause nightmares. Dúlin reached up and pulled off his mask revealing his real face to the man he was kneeling on. The man screamed at the sight of the scarred flesh but the scream was cut short as Dúlin’s knife flashed in the dark alleyway creating a bright red smile on the man’s neck.

Wiping his dagger on the man’s shirt he searched his employer and found the rest if the payment he had and some extra. He slid the ring off the man’s finger, but finding nothing else of value he turned his attention to the other two men after looting them and retrieving his two knives he turned back to the last man. He needed to make an example of this man to show what happens if he is cheated by an employer.

Grabbing the body by the arm he hoisted it over his shoulder. He carefully climbed up the low roof tossing the body up before him; he repeated the process until he was standing on highest roof of the building which was level with the surrounding buildings. He lifted up the body and made his way back to the square where he had killed the fat man.

Placing the body on the edge of the roof he removed his employer’s dagger and coin purse from the body’s belt and stabbed the dagger through the coin purse and into the man’s chest. Kicking it off the roof he watched it fall slowly a smile on his face, any potential employer would know there was new assassin in town and they would make sure not to double cross him.

He turned and fled back across the rooftops just as screams from the street filled the air.

It is a funny thing, to be aware. To be certain of our day. When a dozen notions beg to be tended to. When the mortal condition urges us to look but not see. We are aware.
A chill in the air, a dampening of light. What did these things matter, when there was so much else to be aware of...

A crowd gathered around in morbid curiosity, a murdered body at its center.
Men began shouting, children throwing up their lunches. A dirty business was the Fair. But this...


**********

“By the Decree of High Lord Mi’zral – I crier of Bardusk declare…“ The town crier was belting the announcement from atop the central stage…

**********

“Do you know how easy it is to have a man killed during the Fair Ikin…” Lord Valkylin of the Bards Abode was alluding, downing the wine in his glass and looking over to the dwarf beside him…

**********

“What is his name commander, that ranger there.” Emissary Lesha was asking of her escort, taking a seat on the lip of a large fountain nearby…

**********

“Look there comes an Elf with much more admirable intentions then you or I” Lady Elsah was telling the Seer, pointing out the shadowlancer coming towards them.

**********

“I crier of Bardusk declare, this the 8th midsummer fair, greatest is all Eona, to have commenced its second day of festiv - …”

The man went quiet, rubbed his eyes, and looked up once more.
Then the announcer’s eye shot wide and he began trembling, “Oh… oh my gods…”

Yes, what did it matter that the sun was no longer shinning…

The chubby man gasped and fell to his knees staring at the distant skies, “…Have mercy.”

There came a hush.

Then the screaming orders of Commander Emberheart, “The east wall! Get to the east wall NOW! EVERYONE GO, NOW!”

(PLEASE SEE THE OOC)

Dúlin stood frozen on the rooftops watching the elder storm build his heart beating against his ribcage. He marveled at the fear the storm made him feel, it was the only thing that made him feel fear since the fire that nearly burned him alive. The storm was primal an uncontrollable force that meant death to anyone caught in it. A smile spread across his lips beneath the mask. Fear was good it reminded him he was alive.

He shook his head looking away from the storm. Running as fast as possible across the rooftops his cloak flapping around his shoulders, his muscles tensed as he neared a gap between two buildings near the eastern wall he sprang forward clearing the edge he was on a building near the wall.

Rain had made the roof of this building slippery as he reached the edge of the roof but he couldn’t stop he had too much momentum and the roof was to wet, he fell off the edge of the building, five meters from the ground his flailing hands caught a windowsill the force nearly ripping his arms out of their sockets but he managed to stop himself. He took one deep breath and then his fingers failed and he fell to the ground hard. He began to lose consciousness, as darkness filled his vision he watched people run by too concerned with themselves to help an 'old' plague doctor to safety.

He laughed weakly whispering to the air “A damned fire won’t kill me but the fucking rain will kill me a few meters from safety.”

Alazius watched with idle curiosity as the crowd began to congregate and surround the fresh corpse that tainted the ground. He pondered as he released another ring of smoke into the air. Death was the greatest mystery – a portal into the unknown – that all earthly creatures were bound to undertake. Man despised and feared the unknown, especially if it was forced to discover it. They were all doomed to make that journey – some sooner than others – from which they would never return… Except in rare cases.

Suddenly Liufr’s tail began to twitch violently as his ears perked and folded back. His hair turned sharp as sowing needles and his lips pealed back to reveal fierce yellow canines. A low growl escaped his throat and was quickly followed by a bark. Finally the tamed wolf looked up at his master and whimpered worryingly. Alazius nodded in response.

Alazius smelled the storm long before he heard or saw it. The voice of Kord thundered across the heavens, which echoed his battle cry throughout the land. A dark shadow slowly devoured the city as the image of the sun was veiled by the malicious clouds that approached sluggishly yet purposefully. He could now smell the fear resonating from the crowd as the dreaded maw of panic and terror consumed them. Panic meant death. Clarity meant life. Alazius learned that long ago. He dumped the remains of the leaves in his pipe on the ground, and smothered them with his boot.

With a calm haste Alazius collected his equipment. He sheathed his knife as he reached for his sword and quiver and swung them over his shoulder. Alazius quickly threw as much as he could into his pack before swinging that over his other shoulder, grabbing his bow, and taking off in a sprint toward the wall. His companion followed closely behind him.

The hunter sprinted like a deer, surpassing most of the crowd with ease while he stayed to the side of the raging mob for fear of being trampled. Clarity was what separated Man from Beast. Panic destroyed that clarity, thus creating a mob little better than a buffalo stampede. Suddenly Liufr released a bark, catching the attention of Alazius, and gestured toward a crippled heap that lay in the midst of the stampede.

Alazius immediately acted on instinct and began melding into the crowd, weaving towards the fallen man. Panicked runners thudded into him randomly, deflected by his superior stature, creating a small pocket of emptiness, like a stone dividing the current of a fierce river. Upon reaching the fallen man, Alazius grabbed him by the back of his robe, hoisted him up, threw his arm over his shoulder, and began dragging him to safety.

“On your feet,” Alazius grunted, “you are not going to die this day.”

The rain was now pouring, making that ground wet and slippery, but Alazius quickly made it the rest of the way to the wall with the man in tow. Water now soaked his wool and leather clothing, but they were now safe. Liufr shook himself dry nearby, and Alazius pulled out a dry pelt from his pack he managed to save and draped it over the man’s shoulders.

Riona's eyes snapped open. It was the same nightmare for the third night in a row. She exhaled and her breath floated away in a cloud despite the warmth of the morning. She was curled beneath a thick quilt, but she shivered and she had to rub away the goosebumps from her arms. She didn't wake up weeping this time. On the first night of this particular nightmare, Lady Elsah held her in a combination of an embrace and a restraint. Riona trembled, kicked and cried as she shouted, "Why didn't he spare the children?!? Why did the Great Kord not spare the children?!?" It took a good ten minutes of cooing and hushing to calm her down. She dreamt that the god rode on the flanks of tremendous storm clouds. She dreamt of ice falling from the sky and winds strong enough to carry horses. She saw so many people beaten to death by ice and debris. She saw the face of Kord and he was furious.

She stood in her simple wagon. It previously held storage before she came on board so it had yet to be decorated in the rich color and silks of her companions. She had a pallet, a trunk, a mirror, a cushion to sit on, and a table that folded against the wall. She looked at her tired reflection. She glanced at her eyes for a moment. Shades of gray seemed to swirl around her pupils. This was the third morning in a row they looked like that. She turned her face away. She always felt that her eyes were not her own; that they belonged to something far older and intimidating than she. It seemed the rest of the world with the exception of Lady Elsah felt the same.

It had been six months since she was rescued from a life on the streets. There was always something about her that made people keep their distance. She blamed it on her eyes. Even she could look at herself squarely in the face for very long before turning away nervously. How could she expect anyone to react differently? She never held a job for long. She made customers and patrons uncomfortable. No man ever wooed her. Sometimes they would smile and wave from a distance, but turned away when they got close enough to see her face.

She didn't think she was ugly. She certainly wasn't some breathtaking damsel, but her features were symmetrical, her hair was kept clean, and her teeth were white and straight. She looked like the typical farm girl from her village with reddish-brown curls that hung halfway down her spine, dappled cheeks, and fair skin. Naturally, this made her stand out from the rest of her party, but amongst the crowds at Bardusk, she was just another face.

She dressed in her brown skirt, linen blouse, and sheepskin vest. One of the gypsies gave her a lovely apron stitched with big purple and red flowers and exotic birds. She was also given matching ribbons to pleat in her hair. When she was ready, she stepped out into the crowds.

She wanted terribly to explore. It had only been the gypsies wares on display before. This was her first time at a fair of this size. She smiled and waved at Lady Elsah ho appeared to be conversing with a monk. Even such a simple gesture felt new to her, but she was warming up to the feeling of general camaraderie. First, she made sure the mandolins were in tune and the woodwinds cleaned and fitted with working mouthpieces. She had become a jack-of-all-trades of sorts and possessed a general knowledge of ho to do various things. Instrument care was her newest skill. She could hardly play anything, but she new how to ensure that they played beautifully. Next, she worked with another gypsy at an herb stall. The morning promised big crowds looking to flavor their foods with unique spices. Her companion drew the crowds while she took the money.

"You should work with me more often," the young woman said "so many more people let you keep the change." Riona's cheeks burned. She knew the girl meant no harm in her comment and her words did ring true. Like everywhere else, nobody met her gaze and in a rush to flee her presence, left their change on the counter.

"I'm going to take the goats and sheep out to graze" she muttered dully. The goats and sheep the caravan possessed were a smaller breed than those seen on farms. They were hardier and better accustomed to traveling long distances. The goats provided a richer milk that made a better cheese than the sheep, but the sheep provided a soft, downy wool that was excellent for blanket making and trading. Amongst the creatures was a baby white billy goat that had been rejected by its mother. Like Riona, he was a bit of an outcast. She took care of him after he was born and kept him in her wagon on cold nights. No name ever seemed to stick, so he was simply called Billy Boy. She crafted a sort of woven leash made out of scrap ribbons for him. She tied it around his neck, grabbed the herding cane and switch, and took off towards the fields.

Billy Boy trotted next to her happily and she rubbed his head. She could feel the two small bumps where his horns were beginning to grow. Away from the festivities, lay a vast expanse of tall grass. The goats and sheep munch lazily and Riona looked up at the sky. It was blue and sunny without a single cloud. Why on earth was she looking anyway? Sure she had prophetic dreams in the past, but dreams of gods couldn't be true. Besides, there was absolutely no sign of a storm brewing.

She took comfort in that thought and took her position at the top of a hill. She untied Billy Boy and watched his kick up his hooves and dance his way towards some clover blossoms. Riona turned her head back towards the fair. What would it be like if she were a normal village woman. By now, she would probably have been long married and fat with her third child. Twenty-three was damn near close to being an old maid according to her village's standards. Perhaps she would be rifling through beautiful fabrics while her husband admired new farming tools that promised to till the soil in half the time. Perhaps she would be purchasing sweets for the children and laughing off a carnie's flirtations. Perhaps that wasn't the kind of life she dreamed of, but she wasn't so sure what she wanted. She found friends and people that accepted her after a lifetime of feeling like a ghost. Wasn't that enough?

She turned back to her flock and her jaw fell. Clouds the color of volcanic ash were hurdling towards the fair like an angry tidal wave. She felt that familiar shiver that had been greeting her for the past few mornings. This was an Elder Storm. The flock scattered before she could even grab her cane. She took off after Bill Boy and snatched him before speeding towards the caravan. He gave a bleat and she hoisted him over her shoulders.

Town criers were already directing people towards the East Wall. She searched frantically for her party, but they had all gone. Fires were left burning. Instruments lay on the ground. She dared turned around and saw the tall grass of the fields whip around and lay flat as the rain pelted it into the ground. She could feel the nipping winds. "Lady Elsah!" she called but no response. She ran with the terrified crowds trying to avoid getting knocked down. She managed until she passed a meat vendor's stall. Some large brute of a man simply had to give her a shove and she was knocked to the ground with Billy Boy tumbling into a barrel. She felt felt crush her legs and arms. She was quick to get up, but Billy Boy didn't have the same luck. She held him in her arms and ran out of the mass of people. She circled around where people were shoving each other to get inside. She tapped on the shoulders of the group in front of her. As they turned, she went "RAAAAH!" making it a point to look them all in the face and look as menacing as she could muster. Sure enough, her utterly ridiculous stunt caused them to back a way and allow her passage. She couldn't believe it.

"Lady Elsah, where are you?"she called frantically searching the crowd for her face or anyone else from her caravan.

Pushing aside the guards, Keras and the other two shadowlancers disappeared into the crowd, leaving the two obnoxious guards behind, it didn't take them long to get to Lady Elsah, whom was currently speaking with a certain monk, the Seer known as Hammon. Approaching the two, Keras gave out a quick nod of acknowledgement to the monk, an ally to shadowlancers. With his two partners flanking both the monk and Elven Lady, Keras whispered over her shoulder, loud enough for the seer to eavesdrop onto.

"My Lady, we need to get you to safety. There happens to be an assassin here. The monk will be safe as well," the hushed voice carried out, dampened behind the cowl that Keras was known to wear in public.

Drop.

A single drop of water splashed down onto the breastplate of his armor, the shattered puddle the size of a pupil within an eye scattering in all directions. Then another drop.

And another.

Looking up, Keras mumbled something to himself, obviously not in the shared language that the majority of commonfolk knew...

◄♫♪♫►

Suddenly, the lumbering armored statue of an Elf sprang to unnatural life, barking out orders in the elven tongue to his two comrades. Pointing here and there, those who were slightly versed in the mysterious tongue were unable to keep up with everything that Keras had said within a mere minute.

May Ious place favor upon us.

"Marilos! Return back to the elven quarter on the eastern wall and help the others move the crowds to safety! Send some others to help Aliza with the overhang! MOVE!" Keras barked at the male shadowlancer in elven, with only a silent nod as a reply and him sprinting off down the cobblestone path towards the elven caravan. "Aliza, you're the quickest of us. Get to the overhang and help the town guard with extending it. Marilos will be sending you some help shortly!" the Elf called out to the female shadowlancer, again given a silent nod in acknowledgement and who began to sprint off towards the eastern wall to help the town guard.

The rain began to fall more quickly, intense winds starting to pick up.

"Come and stick with me. I'm going to get you to safety!" Keras finally called out to the monk and Elf. Keeping one hand out in front, ready to push others out of the way, he began to start down the same path that the other two had taken, with both the monk and lady Elf close behind him.

(PLEASE SEE THE OOC)

For the briefest of moments it was as if all the air in Bardusk was suddenly sucked away…
Then an explosion of force blasted the eastern wall and the roaring winds engulfed everything. So many not ready, so many caught in the open… Those bracing themselves at the wall witnessed what seemed like the hand of an angry god sweeping away the fairgrounds before them. Dozens of bodies, animals, and wagons alike were flung into the air as the raging wind and hurling ice descended upon them.

**********

Alazius
Just as the ranger had a moment to catch his breath town guards rushed by and up the stairs built into the wall. Near the top they seemed to be struggling with the metal overhang, it looked to be jammed and breaking apart.

One of the men screamed down the steps for help in securing that section of the structure before it surely caved in on them.
But just as the ranger heard the call, a dreadful sight caught his eye. Not 20 feet out, away from the protection of the wall and out in the open was Emissary Lesha, trapped under a wagon.

**********

Dulin
It was a human boy, no more than 16 that had come crashing into the plague doctor at the wall. Weeping and terrified he pointed towards two bodies propped up against a bench where others were gathered. It wasn’t hard to assess the situation even amidst the chaos reigning out on the fairgrounds.

One was a man in rags with a grave wound that would surely take his life if not tended to right away.
The other was what looked to be a rich woman with a non-life threatening wound that could quickly become dangerously infect if not treated.

**********

Keras
The impact of the first winds barrelled in to the shadowlancer like a raging bull, knocking even his sturdy frame a clear 6 feet back. Regaining his footing and struggling to look about, it became clear the next few moments were going to come down to gut wrenching choice.

To his left, 8 feet away, struggling to not get blown away was his brother from the Order of Magi, the monk, and his satchel of artifacts.
To his right, at a good dozen feet, behind an up turned stall, lay the limp body of Lady Elsah.

**********

Riona
It was a shattering of sound and wood that took Riona off her feet. The ruins of the wagon before her hurled past her head as she fell back onto the cold hard ground. As her senses cleared and the taste of blood caught her tongue, out there on the field bodies began raining down along with the ice.

With terrifying certainty she came to realise it was Lady Elsah laying there behind the stalls…
Next to her a man with a badly crushed foot and a baby in his arms was hysterically begging Riona to take the infant to safety.

(PLEASE SEE THE OOC)

Through the darkness that had enveloped him he heard a deep voice “On your feet you are not going to die this day.” Dúlin felt himself being dragged across the ground he knew he was being pulled to safety. Even in a state of semi-consciousness the irony of an assassin having his life saved was not lost on Dúlin if he had been capable of feeling something besides pain he would have laughed.

He was pulled into an upright position and a fur was wrapped around his shoulders. He began to regain function of his body his hand going to his face to touch the mask on his face undisturbed. He was relived it was still there, he took a look at his savior. It was a grizzled ranger he had seen earlier tending a stall on the same street he had dumped the body.

He felt a bad taste in his mouth he hated owing somebody especially since the debt he owed was his life. In his line of business that meant death. He opened his mouth about to broach the subject of payment when the man turned and ran off on some other errand at the same time a boy ploughed into him.

He looked to the direction the boy had motioned to and he say two people sitting slumped on a bench one seriously injured the other lightly wounded but the wound was already dirty and in this wet and filthy an environment the wound could be the death of her. He jumped to his feet he was an assassin but he was doctor and neither of those folk was a mark. His honour and pride wouldn’t let him fail at anything even if he was still hurting from his own fall.

He took one last look in the direction of the ranger who had saved him; he would repay his debt but not right now. He limped to the injured couple; this time the limp was real and not exaggerated, his leg hurt like hell.

He reached the pair and immediately went to the man who was the more injured of the two. He pulled out a small satchel inside was some gut, a needle, a small amount of an anesthetic and a small bottle of alcohol to clean the wound. The man was delirious with pain his wound was right across his chest it was deep and he had lost a lot of blood. “Doctor, help me it hurt so much.” He heard the lady next to him moan as he poured s mall amount of anesthetic into the man’s mouth. It immediately put him out like a light it was powerful stuff in large enough quantities it could kill.

He ignored the woman his concentration focused on cleaning the gaping wound with alcohol. “Do you know who I am? I am Lady Brigit I am important I have power in this city.” Ignoring her Dúlin began to stitch the wound his stitches careful and small he was going as fast as he could but the wound would be done properly. The woman began making threats ordering him to help her but he ignored her falling into a rhythm he only found when saving someone’s life.

He could hear the beat of the man’s heart and the sound of blood flowing through the man’s veins. The sound was weak but it was steady and matched Dúlin’s own heart beat for beat. Calm descended over Dúlin as he remembered the first time he had saved a man’s life, his hand had not been as skilled as it had been now but his mentor’s calm and reassuring voice had kept his hand steady. He felt a tear roll down his cheek beneath his mask. It had been a good day he and his mentor had celebrated with a bottle of wine an expensive treat they rarely had.

He shook his head focusing on his patient he was not the child he had been he had changed into a dark man.

As soon as Alazius had ensured the safety of the doctor, he stood and surveyed his surroundings. Frightened men, women, and children sat clinging against the wall, their only refuge against the fury of the maelstrom. Rain and hail mercilessly descended upon the town and its people before a sudden hush enveloped the air.

Liufr whimpered.

Suddenly a massive gale assaulted the town. Carts and stands were sundered and tossed like toys by the vengeful wind. Alazius’s feet lurched into the air and his back replaced them. His lungs shuddered and froze in protest as the mighty gale extorted the air within. He willed them to relax, and they reluctantly obeyed. Slowly the ranger sat up. His dark hair whipped across his face, half blinding him. With his one good eye he discerned several guards precariously ascending the steps built into the wall. Through the endless wailing wind he could faintly hear them plea for aid.

Alazius attempted to pull himself up, constantly battling the raging maelstrom, and go to their aid. However, immediately as he brushed aside the hair that clung to his face, he saw the feeble form of a woman trapped beneath a toppled wagon a short distance from the safety of the wall. He looked again at the guards in the stair well, which was threatening to collapse, and then again at the woman. Alazius silently cursed himself and the cruelty of fate.

The preservation of life dominated his priorities. Two options presented themselves in Alazius’s mind. His first option was to go help the guards and send a few men at the wall to go help the woman. However, this would put the woman and those men he would send at risk, and he couldn’t bring himself to risk the sacrifice of their lives. The second option was to go help the woman and to send help for the guards. They could accomplish that task without him, and he could free the woman by himself – no – had to free her by himself. He could not risk anyone else.

“You, you, you, and you,” he gestured at four men that seemed to be relatively unscathed and spoke with an authoritative voice, “go help those guards in the stair well! They need to stabilize the structure and unjam the awning! Take those two-by-fours!” he gestured between the stair well and a pile of wood scrap stirred up by the storm.

“Liufr, come!” he said as he exited the safety of the wall without waiting for a reply.

Rain and hail pelted his back and arms as he pushed against the wind, keeping low to the ground. The large man practically crawled on all fours to the toppled wagon. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he gripped onto the sides of the vehicle. He would not let her die. Alazius sounded a call to arms throughout his body. Every muscle summoned the mass of their strength. The same strength he used to raise fallen timber. The same strength he used to carry a deer carcass for miles on end. That strength was now given voice and outlet. A bestial roar escaped his throat. The wagon began to move. As frame of the wagon slowly tilted away from the frame of the woman, Alazius’s roar became more fierce and coarse. Finally the weight of the wagon no longer entrapped the woman beneath the wrath of the relentless storm.

“Liufr!” Alazius called out while still holding the weight of the wagon.

The tamed wolf responded with a bark and approached the woman. He gripped the sleeve of her shirt with his powerful canines and began tugging. Slowly, the dog pulled the woman out from the shadow of the wagon. Upon her safety, Alazius released his grip and the wagon landed with a splintering crash. Sweat and rain soaked his clothing. His arms quivered. Veins pulsed across his body. Adrenaline still flowed. The task was not finished.

With haste Alazius turned around and picked the woman up in his arms and began the laborious trek back to the safety of the wall. Once returned to their sanctuary, his shaking arms attempted to set the woman gently against the wall. Finally, the man crumpled into an exhausted heap and began to slip into unconsciousness. His breath became ragged and coarse.

He prayed to The Five that the help he sent was enough.

Alazius’s world went black.

Riona sat up frantically searching for any signs of Billy Boy. She spat the blood in her mouth on the dusty ground a heard frightened bleating. He lay sprawled out on the ground about ten feet away. She ran to his side in order to ensure he wasn’t trampled. She scanned the scene before her. Like the swinging arms of an angry giant, the wind smashed all of the stalls into splinters. Bodies lay sprawled and bleeding amongst the wreckage and the sky’s tick, blackish-gray storm clouds blocked all light. It was the nightmare all over again and she could feel her soul falter.

Then, she saw her at last: the dusty feet and colorful skirt of Lady Elsah. All of the confines of her ribcage went cold. She turned looked back down at her tiny companion. She couldn’t carry the two of them. She saw a small girl alone and crying. She picked up Billy Boy and handed him to her. “Here. He’ll keep you company until your family finds you.” That managed to change the girl’s tears to a face of puzzlement, but Riona had already disappeared before the child could respond. She bolted as fast as she could to her friend’s side. The mad wind made her run at an angle to help keep off some of the force. She flung the debris and knelt down beside her. She was bruised and bloodied, but she was breathing. This caused something of a combination of a cry and a squeak to hiccup from Riona's throat. She shook her and the Lady groaned. Her consciousness was beginning to return. She then heard a man shouting.

He lay only a few feet away, but the strong winds carried away most of his shouting. She leaned down. His eyes were squeezed shut in pain. “Please…save my baby…” He rolled slightly to expose a red-faced screaming infant swaddled in a small wool blanket. She stood frozen. Eyes darting to survey the damage. A barrel lay on top of his foot. “Hold on, sir” She had to act fast. She tried lifting it. It didn’t budge. “I’m so sorry sir,” she shouted “but this might hurt.” She pushed the barrel with everything she had. She felt it turn and start to roll. The man cried out in agony. She leaned into the barrel and it rolled. She took the baby. “Now. I’m going to need your help. See that woman over there? She is the only friend I have and you are the only person that can save her if I am to take your child. I don’t care if you have to drag her while you hop on one foot, just get her to shelter.” She leaned in. “Look at me” he opened his eyes and she saw the fear.” I promise I will take care of your baby, but if I find that woman dead, I will search the heavens just to take you to hell. Understood?” He nodded sweating profusely.” She too was shaking. She’d never demanded anything from anyone and certainly never spoke with such authority. “Good. May the Five Revered keep you safe.” She cradled she child in her arms and ran as the wind roared louder.

The longest seconds of her life ticked by as she neared the east wall once again. She felt as if she were in another on of her nightmares and the wall stood ever from her reach. However, she did make it at last. Men parted as she made her way further back. This time it was due to her cargo rather than her face. She searched the crowds for the little girl she saw before, but to no avail. She silently prayed for her safety as well as her family’s and Billy Boy’s. I’m sure going to miss that little goat. She thought. She found an unturned wagon to sit on. At last, she had a moment of quietude, a moment of rest in the eye of the chaos around her. She held the child to her and wept with him.

◄♫♪♫►

The trio were almost in reach of safety. They had a good twenty or so feet between them and the wall, Keras keeping both Elsah and the Seer close behind him. They had a couple more alleyways to cross, and then...

But things had taken a turn for the worse. A sudden gust of wind rolled through the alleyway they were crossing. Of all of them, it had to be that one in particular. The gust was strong enough to knock apart the trio instantly, and with enough strength to knock the armored Elf off balance as well!

Keras had taken a pretty rough landing, but it wasn't something that could keep him down for long. Lifting himself up, now soiled from the muddied walkway that he had landed halfway on, he tucked his legs under himself, tilting his body towards the wind, he quickly scanned for an observation of what in the bloody hell just happened.

Luckily, the one-eyed seer wasn't affected from the sudden gust as Keras and Elsah were. He happened to be protected from the building eight feet away as the wind rolled through. But he was still struggling nonetheless. His satchel, full of artifacts no doubt, was giving the aged man some difficulty in trying not to get pulled by the winds. However, as he turned to his right, fifteen feet away laid a familiar body- the body of Lady Elsah, limp and trapped under debris from a nearby splintered stall.

However, he could see a woman, another gypsy, kneel down besider her and tried to recover Elsah and take her to safety. But instead of carrying out the deed, she had stopped and disappeared for a few minutes. Where the hell is she going?! Keras had thought to himself, only to have that question quickly answered. She returned, with a small object in her arms, but she ran past Elsah's limp body...

Lady Elsah, please forgive me.

Turning his attention to the monk, who was losing the struggle against the wind, Keras had quickly assessed one plan of action. Sure, it might be risky, but it would certainly assist the monk with his little problem...

The Elf unsheathed his blade, the runeblade Retribution, and quickly hurled the blade in the man's direction. Keras was strong enough to accurately, and easily, hurl the blade through those eight feet of uncertainness, but with the wind's strength now helping him for the time being, the blade had embedded itself into a crack located in the side of the building's foundation, and was within an arm's reach from the monk to support himself to.

Keras charged towards the monk, uncertain when the wind would change direction again. Making the dash, he situated himself on one side of the monk, Retribution on the other. "Seer, stay low to the ground! The lower we are, the harder for the wind to knock us around! We're going to get to Elsah's body and get us three to safety... AND HOLD ON TIGHT!" Keras yelled to the monk, as he grasped himself around the Elf and the satchel, pressing his back into the flat of the blade, using it as support when another strong of gust of wind came through, tugging at Keras. The wind had shifted again, but it had also died down in this one particular spot for a small amount of time.

◄♫♪♫►

Looking at the monk, Keras yelled "RUN!" and with the winds somewhat calmed in this minute of the storm, Keras pulled his blade from the foundation. With the monk pulling what had seemed like renewed vigor and energy, Keras followed closely behind him, both running towards the limp body of Elsah, seeing another man pulling her from the debris, obviously trying to get her to safety, as if he was ordered to do so.

Reaching the man, Keras and the monk ducked down behind the pile of wreckage, startling the man, making him lose his balance and fall over. Noticing the badly injured foot, he had sneaked a peek at the last spot they were in, only to see a collapsed building in place of where they would have been, if they didn't move when they did. Giving his attention to the man, Keras asked for the woman's body. The man obliged, and in turn, the Elf handed him his blade, motioning to use it as an improvised crutch.

"We're almost there! Stick together, and stay low to the ground, and we'll be fine! Let's move!" Keras slumped the limp Elsah over his shoulder, his right arm securing her legs, staying in the back to keep a watchful eye on the two others. They had to go at a slower pace, but they were oh so close to the eastern wall. A good ten feet or so now...

A boost of renewed energy and strength overcame Keras as he measured how close they were, and he piled forward, grabbing hold of the injured man with his not-so-dominant left arm and picking him up, charging the last couple of feet to safety, with the monk doing the same with his satchel of artifacts. Nobody knows what the body can do when a sliver of obsolute hope breaks through a wall of despair.

As the four approached the wall, they could see that the overhang was nearly extended, and a group of helpful hands welcomed them aside. Two guards had taken the injured man and Elsah, whom Keras did see breathing finally, and a familiar face had approached Keras and the monk. It was Aliza.

"Thank the Revered that you made it, bloodfriend Hammon. And the same goes to you, Kera." She said with relief in her voice, however it had faded when she watched the body of Elsah being carried away. "I hope she will be alright... Anyways, I need to secure the supports for the overhan-"

As she rushed past them towards one of the supports, the wind had grabbed a hold of her, as if it had an invisible, non-existant tentacle wrapped around her, and pulled her away and into the full force of the storm. This was almost instantaneous, and was completely unpredictable, so nobody was able to help her. However, the support stayed in place, despite the strong gust of wind picking up and carrying off a fully equiped and armored shadowlancer.

Observing this, Keras' heart fell. Watching a respected friend, a sister whom he had known for a good while, a shadowlancer at that, being pulled away to certain death was enough to have anybody wish it was them that endured that instead...

Backing away, the monk already away looking for where they had taken Elsah, Keras tried to forget what had just occurred right in front of him. But nobody can save everyone, no matter how hard they tried, and Keras had just saved not only himself, but two close allies and a complete stranger from certain death...

Lesha was in shock, she knew she was being carried, but by what or whom? An animal… no, a man…
Was she dreaming? The emissary tried to speak, but only a spattering of gibberish escaped her mouth as the wall grew closer…

The 4 men carrying the beams had made it halfway up the stone stairs when a mighty groan from above frozen them in their tracks.
“Get Down!” Screamed commander Emberheart as she raced over to the base of the steps.

The ranger had made it back, against fearsome odds; the man had accomplished a feat that those around gapped at, astonished.
And as he crumpled to the ground, so too did the metal sheets come crashing down over that ill-fated section, causing the deaths of 3 town guards and 2 shadowlancers at the top of the stairs.

It was the Commander who had thrown herself over the ranger and his ward as the sky fell. It was she who saved them both…
Where there was death, there was always death.

**********

A desperate bellow of alarm reached Dulin just as one of the torn pieces from above whipped through the air, grazing the doctor, and crushing 2 people nearby.
The woman awaiting medical treatment, Lady Brigit, sister to High Lord Vincent Valkylin, screamed in terror as the blood sprayed her.

2 more gone in a blink of an eye. What was life but a cruel joke. The man Dulin saved; was he anyone? Did his life matter more or less than any other? Was the jest not his as well? But there was no other voice on the wind to reckon with except death’s. And the jest was his to laugh at that day.

On so many occasions in the past, a laugher unlike his own…

**********

A weeping woman raced to Riona and took the infant from her arms, while another ran up and hugged her tightly. They began vowing to never forget what she had done for them and the baby.

Riona had not just traded one life for another. She had traded a past for a future. It didn’t matter who that man was, or who that child may become. She had saved Hope. The last and best of all things. If not for herself, then for those around her. The two women were overjoyed. It was gratitude unwarranted, even the men around them were looking at her in awe.

Had they not looked into her eyes? How could they not have… perhaps they were too busy looking into her heart. As Elsah had…

Then, as if a miracle, came Sir Nyspar into view.

**********

Elsah knew they’d come. It was madness, but they’d come for her. There had been a type of peace accompanying that thought, even as all was being lost to darkness. What was an elder storm compared to a shadowlancer’s convictions, or a prodigy’s love.

For the briefest of moments she could see Riona’s face…

And suddenly he was there, looming over her as he always had a way of doing. “Lesta fem ooria.” Even the wind could not quell her whispered words. Perhaps it was the tempest obscuring his senses, but in that moment it felt as if the spoken phrase had pressed against the tall elf’s armoured form and passed through his body.

**********
**********

The Seer could see his ends, the dust and wind were blinding his one good eye, but he could see it. Even under the safety of the wall.
Aliza had been ripped from them like a ragdoll, there one moment, gone the next. He couldn't bare to look in her vacant direction. Wheeling about and with a heavy heart he let his satchel drop to the ground.
The Gods preserve Us Hammon prayed as he slid a shaky hand under the folds of his robes. It was covered in blood when he pulled it out…

The monk staggered and stumbled forward. Then he began moving with desperate purpose. Only one thing mattered now.

*{Please See The OOC)*

CHAPTER ONE CONCLUSION STAGE
The Beginnings of What We Know Now

The news spread through solemn whispers – Commander Emberheart was dead. Dead at the wall.
“There lies dead the best woman I ever knew…” a guard was venting shaking his bloodstained head, “Zehira take you storm lord! .. she was the best I knew…” He roared out towards the sky.

Suddenly the guard swore and stumbled back as heap of a body came staggering out of the rain and fell atop him. Hammon, the Seer monk of the Order, gasped and chocked as he tumbled over the guard, covered in blood and mud. His hand reached achingly towards Dulin.

“You must take my eye…” The monk whizzed, ripping the eye patch off his head, “My.. glass eye.” There sown into the vacant socket was a glimmering glass orb. “It helps the blind.. see…” blood dribbled out his mouth, “It must get back.. to the Order.. in Kryn. It must…” With that old monk exhaled his last shuttering breath, and was no more.

Out on the fields the storm had finally peaked…

**********
**********

The Morning After

“Listen up folks.” A ragged looking man croaked, “Lord Mi’zral has called a general meeting at noon at his manor, or what’s left of it. He has asked for a few people in particular to be present, the rest of you are welcome to attend if able, by the gods... is this all that is left of us here?” He stammered before turning away and trekking back through the wreckage outside.

It had been like this all morning, men from the manor coming in, taking accounts, distributing rations, clearing debris.

A gray haze blanketed the sky. Slug and fire and ice covered the grounds. Nearly all animals of labour and livestock were rotting corpses, and where a magnitude of equipment and caravans once stood, now remained a field of ruins.

Lady Elsah and Emissary Lesha, as well as several others, had been taken to the manor and were attending a private meeting since sunrise. The funeral pyres had burnt all night…

*{Please See The OOC)*

Dúlin watched as two men near him were crushed by falling debris a cruel bark escaped his lips A simple truth running through his head; Death finds everyone there is no escape. Was there any point to what he was doing helping this man only prolonged the inevitable. Even with these protests in mind his hands continued their work, hours of training had removed the need to look at a wound more than once after he began to stich it closed.

He finished wrapping the man’s wounds and turned to wash the blood off his hands when he saw an old man crawling weakly towards him. The man reached towards him saying “My... glass eye. It helps the blind... see.” The man reached up to his face and flipped back an eye patch. Inside the socket was a glass eye unlike any he had seen before it looked like an eye but where his eye was white the glass eye was a deep dark blue and where his eye was black this one was purple. The old man took a deep breath and spoke again “It must get back... To the Order... in Kryn. It must…” before the old man finished he took a final weak breath and crashed to the floor in front of Dúlin.

Dúlin stared at the eye the man had said it could help the blind see; he realised with a start it was an artefact of power like in legends. “It’s magic, real magic” He whispered to himself, he felt something he hadn’t felt in years not since his mother had told him of ancient kings and powerful magic a time when hero’s reigned and monsters cowered. He forgot about the storm he forgot about the death of his mother and of his mentor instead he was lost in the old stories he had heard as a child. Filled with a childlike awe that brought tears to his eyes he reached and gently removed the glass eye from the old seer’s eye socket.

Abruptly reality came back to him as he remembered the old man’s last words; the man had said the eye must get back to the Order he assumed the man had meant the Order of Magi for that as the only reasonable answer. The eye disappeared into one of the many pockets that were sown into the lining of Dúlin’s cloak the eye would be his secret for now until he decided what to do with it, it was safer if those who wanted it thought it was lost.

Dúlin sat back looking at the body of the Seer, this man had not used his last breath to beg to any gods or to moan, he had used the last of his strength to fulfil his duty to a higher cause. This sacrifice set the seer above so many other men, but it struck a chord within Dúlin as well. Dúlin’s mentor hadn’t begged or cried as he died instead Dúlin’s mentor had only coughed up blood and complained that he wouldn’t get to help any more people.

Dúlin stared at the body and decided he would return the eye in honour of the seer.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After the storm

After the storm had left Dúlin moved into the wreckage of the city he began to find and help survivors but more often than not he would have to quietly end a life that was beyond saving. He didn’t help because he cared about their lives but simple because he was playing the part of the doctor and he was expected to help or it would arouse suspicion. As he stitched a child’s leg up he thought about his promise to return the eye. He would not leave right away on the journey, he needed to get ready and he needed the money his job would get him. The thought of more death in this city elicited no response in him he was killer it was life.

He moved to a body that was impaled on a broken wooden beam as he approached the body moaned he knelt beside it, only then did he notice it was a woman and she wasn’t human she was an Elf. He called softly in elvish “Hello lady of the east” his elvish was rusty since he hadn’t used it in years but he still remembered how to speak the language. Her eyes opened and she looked into his dark eyes, she saw the truth there, she was dying but she didn’t cry instead she opened her mouth to speak “Please release me to my gods”.

Dúlin nodded to her; gently he closed her eyes and lifted her head up as he whispered an elvish prayer into her ear he slipped out a knife and slipped it up into her head kill her instantly and painlessly. He gently placed her down and whispered his own blessing “Greet Death as an old friend for he knows you and will take care of you.” The blessing was one his mother had taught to before she had died. He turned away from her when he suddenly heard a call for any available citizens to head to the lords manor.

He picked up the elvish lady’s sword it was good steel better than his own and he felt that soon he would have need of it.

When Alazius awoke, the gentle rays of the sun caressed his cheek. The sound of a bird’s cheerful song filled his ear as his mind slowly stirred from its stupor. His fingers brushed against a soft fabric beneath him. A soft whimper emanated from beside him and was followed by a feeling like warm wet sandpaper sliding along his cheek. Alazius grimaced at the feeling before opening his eyes to reveal the image of his canine companion, Liufr.

“Liufr,” he groaned, “it’s good to see you, boy. Ughhh… How long have I been out?”

Alazius attempted to rise, but a stab of pain that coursed through his whole body forced him down. He winced before slowly easing himself down again. The ranger lifted a hand to his head and discovered it was wrapped tightly in bandages. Then suddenly, like the crash of a title wave, he remembered the events that had transpired the previous day, and his heart sank. So much death… So much destruction… but how much?

He gradually and slowly began to rise again, gritting his teeth at the pain that coursed through his body and head. When he reached a sitting position with his feet planted on the floor, he released a sigh of accomplishment. Alazius looked around the room. He seemed to have been placed in an inn that had survived the storm after he passed out. Sunlight poured through the window, revealing a clear blue sky.

“Oh good. You’re awake.”

Alazius looked to his left and saw the frail frame of an elderly woman standing in the doorway. She was dressed in simple brown commoner’s clothes. A brown bonnet covered her gray head. In her hands was a wooden tray with a brown wine skin, a wooden spoon, and a bowl (also wooden) of something that was steaming. The old woman hobbled toward the bed and set the tray on the sheets.

“Who are you? What happened?” Alazius groaned while rubbing his bandaged head.

“Oh, my name isn’t important.” she replied, “After the heroic stunt you pulled yesterday, you passed out from exhaustion. Once the storm eased up some men found you underneath some rubble and brought you here for medical attention. The doctor said you suffered a minor concussion and some strained muscles. You will probably be sore for a few days.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Alazius said while pulling the tray onto his lap, “tell me, the woman I saved… Is she alright?”

“Oh, you mean Emissary Lesha? Oh yes, I believe she’s alright. She was taken to Lord Mi’zral’s manor to be treated, and has been there in a private meeting all morning. Speaking of which, there is to be a town meeting later today. You could check on her then.”

“And what about…” he said as he took a sip of the substance in the bowl – gumbo, “Mmm, this is quite good… What about the men I sent to stabilize the stair well?”

“I’m afraid they didn’t make it in time.” She sighed. “Just as they were about halfway up the steps the structure collapsed. Five men were killed I am sad to say.”

Alazius’s heart immediately fell, “I should have been there,” he said as he set his spoon down, “I should have gone and help them.”

“Nonsense!” snapped the woman, “If you would have gone and helped them, you would be dead too! There was no way you could have prevented the collapse of those stairs! Son, we all have our appointment with Death. Some simply have them earlier than others. They cannot be canceled – only delayed. You should be proud of yourself, young man. There might not have been anyone else that could have saved that girl. She would be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

“I suppose you are right,” he sighed, “but there is always that chance. What if I could have saved them all?”

“Dwelling on the past will not get you anywhere. We can only accept what has happened and learn from it. If not, then that one question will haunt you for the rest of your life – ‘what if?’”

With that the old woman exited the room leaving the tray and the pondering Alazius. Perhaps she was right. Some things were not his fault. Some things he could not change. However, there were some things he could make right… After he finished the gumbo and wineskin, Alazius rose from the bed, collected his things, and exited the room. He walked with a slight limp in his leg.

Keras had spent the rest of the day through the night and into the very early morning cleaning his armor. After what had transpired, the shadowlancer had requested to be alone for the night, as part of a night of silence, to mourn for the loss of his fellow brothers and sisters. He had stripped most of his outfit away, only to have his uniform-of-sorts to be temporarily replaced by simple trousers and a a pair of sandals, showing his unique features, prominently his dark, ashen skin. He had 90% of the armor cleaned and polished, and he was just started to work on the breastplate until a knock came from the door.

He was spending the night at the local blacksmith's house, that had survived the onslaught of events from the past few hours. Sure, it was bare, not elegant as the elven architecture from the east, but it had sufficient use and was gladly offered by the blacksmith's family.

"Excuse me sir, but I believe this is yours... And thank you for saving me back there."

It was the man from earlier, the one who was trying to recover Elsah's body during the storm. The very one with the crushed foot and had been given Keras' blade to use as a temporary crutch. Keras looked up from his work, and let out a sigh of relief to see the blacksmith was able to walk, however he no longer had both feet. Instead, where the crush foot once was, now stood a bandaged stump, assumed to be cauterized to seal the wound, and a mechanical prosthetic, obviously of dwarven design.

"I took the liberty of forging you this blade as well, but it's nowhere near the level of craftsmanship of your blade. I forged it earlier today as a token of thank you for saving my life from that storm. I didn't think that the dwarves were that fast at forging this new foot of mine, either," showing his new mechanical stump as the last of the sentence rolled off of his tongue, as well as placing the runeblade alongside keras' polished gear. "I may be the best blacksmith in Bardusk, but I will be honored to learn from you and how you treat your metal. Would you mind teaching me?"

The man had handed Keras a dagger, sporting a unique design, a reversed pointing blade, curved towards the handle and extending past it. The Elf stopped cleaning, and took the blade from the man's hands. Spinning it in his palm, flipping it over and around his fist and onto the back of his hand, the blade still spinning. Flipping the blade one more time, this time grasping the handle and accepting it. "I like the style and level of craftsmanship you put into the blade. It's balanced for the most part, just a quarter ounce too heavy on the back side. Nonetheless, it's flawless as I can tell. Thank you, and yes, I can teach you a couple tips and tricks on how to further your skills," Keras taking the blade and setting the blade down next to him. "However, I have a meeting to get to in a few hours, at sunrise, and I'm required to be present. But after, I'll teach you. Right now, I have to finish cleaning my armor. Have a good rest and thank you for the blade, again."

The man stumbled back through the door, out of the room that the Elf was occupying, still getting used to having a metal foot for the rest of his life. Keras had grabbed for the cloth and rags that he was using to clean the armor, and returned back to work. His blade, Retribution, was slightly damaged, but he'll make repairs later in the day as it was still functionable to take life.

Sleep holds no place for tonight. The dead must be held in our minds and hearts. However, I shall not dwell on their deaths, but learn that they had died so we can continue, so we can live on and tell others of their legacies...

Keras had two hours before having to get ready for the meeting at the Lord's manor...

Roina gazed up at these women rather dumbfounded. She couldn't recall an other moment she had been the recipient of another person's gratitude. The woman's embrace came was a bit of a shock to her. All she could manage in return was a weak pat on the back. After the chorus of praises, she just sat there trying to make sense of what just happened. She wasn't a hero. A hero would have saved them all. However, she could not help but feel a twinge of hope. She didn't know ho those women were, but she felt that the child would grow up to be a splendid member of the future generation if they were going to be a part of his life.

She spotted Keras only briefly. She wanted to run to him, to ask if he had seen Lady Elsah or a man with a broken foot, but the crowd swallowed him up again. He had a look on his face that told her he had other business to tend to. She wanted to try to find her leader, but citizens were already beginning to organize. One gentleman nearby decided to organize people into groups. Men were organized to carry the bodies to the funeral pyres once their families had claimed them. Other men dug unmarked graves in the fields for the unclaimed bodies. Women tended to the wounded, cared for the separated children, and searched the rubble for rations. Riona gave a sigh of relief when the man assigned her as one of the foragers. This allowed her to work on her own, see what of her caravan had survived, and check the place where she left Lay Elsah.

The scene made her stomach feel as if it had turned to ice. She had envisioned big piles of rubble where the stalls once stood and felled wagons with their cargo spilled across the ground. But there were no piles of rubble; just splinters and whatever was too heavy to be carried away remained. The damage made one vendor's area indistinguishable from the next. She couldn't even point to the place where she had saved the stranger's baby.

After four hours, Riona had found some produce that had been scattered, some dirty pieces of dried venison (though it wasn't so dry anymore), and a few handfuls of rice. She turned her scraps in to one of the cooks and took a seat on one of the cots that had been set up. Despite her hunger, her tiredness had the upper hand, and soon she was laying down and closing her eyes.

In the morning she and a group of other women were taken to a nearby lake to bathe and clean their clothes. The open air already made her feel uncomfortable in doing this rather intimate ritual and being surrounded by half of a score of strange women didn't help. It seemed the story of her previous day's heroic act spread amongst the mothers. Riona tried to bathe away from the crowd, but she kept getting approached by everyone wanting to hug her and thank her with teary eyes. It quickly grew to be to much for the woman who spent most of her life in solitude and she quickly got out and put her sopping clothes back on.

She managed to eat her simple breakfast of porridge in peace and spent the rest of the morning basking in the sun to dry her dress. Noon came and she started making her way towards the manor. She hoped His Lordship wouldnt mind a woman donned in damp clothing.

The crowded hall was hushed save for a few stay moans and cries of loss, as prayers were sung by priests of the five revered.

The grand hall was missing half its roof, and pale light shone through the rafters in random places.

Four from the gathering were approached, as the prayers continued, by the lords and ladies who had convened.

“You may not know me Sir, my name is Ikin Bin Jaheer, and this here by me is Lord Vincent Valkylin.” The northerner stepped up to Dulin with the aid of a cane.

He studied the doctor in black for some time, before explaining “That man you saved, out there at the wall, was my apprentice. I cannot thank you enough. A gifted man he is. And as are you.” The fact that the man had not removed his mask was of little concern. There was enough to worry about for the moment.

“Not much of what I brought survived the storm, but here, take this with my sincerest thanks. I had it procured a long time ago, but have little use for it now.” The dwarf rumbled, holding out what looked to be folds of fabric, shimmering black. “Tis a shimmer wire cloak. On clear nights, the reflective surface plays tricks on the eyes, rendering the wearer practically invisible.”

“Yes, one can never be too careful in the night.” Lord Valkylin remarked. If the doctor had been merely just a doctor he may have missed the look on the bard lords face. It was a look of distain and loathing, hidden behind a well-rehearsed lofty smile. During the night his sister had become catatonic…

“Riona, come here child.” Elsah coughed calling the girl over to where she stood. “…I am so proud of you.” She stated, staring at the girl for a long moment.

“There will be a path we will be presented with soon. I will travel it with you for as long as I am able. But always remember one thing - Just because it seems like this is neither your place nor your time in the world, doesn’t mean you do not belong in it.” She closed her eyes as she said the strange words, and placed an ancient looking music box, the size of an apple, into Riona’s hand. “Its music is old. Very old and silent. Keep it safe, for you will hear it, one day. Of that I have no doubt.”

That was all the Lady Elf offered before hugging the girl affectionately and beckoning Keras Nyspar to step forth. “Take out your greatsword Sir Nyspar.” She nodded.

Elsah unclasping the green jewel from the center of her necklace, then pressed it against the gemstone fashion into the hilt of the sword. A moment later the jewel in her hand cracked and she smiled, “Drop the blade Keras. Don’t worry, just watch.”

Before the sword hit the floor it vanished in a mist of green. Those around them gasped and began murmuring. The Lady placed a hand on the shadowlancer’s chest, “Will it to return, and within 3 heartbeats it will be in your hand… you may be the first shadowlancer of your generation to bare such a weapon, use these new found methods wisely in battle.”

High Lord Mi’zral looked as if he had aged a hundred years in 24 hours from worry and grief. He gazed to the man before him. “Alazius I hear is your name.” Emissary Lesha stepped up beside the High Lord, beaming up at the ranger. Her arm was in a sling.
“You saved a delegate from Kryn, to whom I’d sworn would come no harm… You saved my dignity along with my promise.” Mi’zral boasted, clasping the man’s hand and giving it a hardy shake. “I believe the Emissary has an offer for you as well. She is heading west tomorrow, back to Kryn.”

“But for now, your reward Sir Alazius.” A ornate slender box was brought forth. Within it rested 3 pristine arrows.

“Lord Ikin informs me very few of these remain in the world today. They are of brimstone, each tipped with a crystalline head. It is said they never miss they’re mark…” The High Lord looked Alazius in the eye, “These are some of the most dangerous artifacts outside the Order, if released by the right hand, no mark is safe. Use them when the need is dire, when lives depend on you again one day.”

**********

Later, when the hall was clearing out, those presented with gifts were asked to stay behind by Mi’zral, as well as Lady Elsah, Emissary Lesha, and Artifacier Ikin.

It seems Hammon, Seer of the Order, had confided in High Lord Mi’zral, his secret.

And the matter of the Eye was brought forth.

CHAPTER ONE END
*[Please See The OOC]*