WarTorn IC

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Yerchico watched as the group before him knelt, then as one they pledged their allegiance to him. They made a stark contrast, the three warriors, tall and strong, their bodies rippling with muscles. Even the warrior he knew was a woman was just as imposing as the other two. And then there were the diplomats, kneeling along with the warriors and reciting the same words. They were not as imposing, small thin looking, although one looked like this more so than the other. But Yerchico valued these more than the warriors, for this mission at any rate. It was they who would hopefully at last bring peace to the Kerait, in an alliance with the Olkun’ut. The warriors were just as important; of course, if they did not go with the diplomats they would most likely be ripped to pieces.

Once they had all finished reciting the words they had memorised in preparation for the ceremony, they stood. Yerchico gestured that they could leave with his hand. He did not deign to speak to them; the ceremony had been conducted in silence, except for the recital by the five men, and woman, who stood before him. When the large wooden doors swung shut, a small man appeared out of the shadows, and stood at Yerchico’s side. “They will do well, my lord,” He said reassuringly. He had always known just how sooth Yerchico’s nerves. “May I suggest that you retire for the evening now” He continued smoothly, before walking towards the door and pulling it open. Yerchico sighed, then nodded. He walked past the man, his advisor, and then on toward where his rooms were. As he did so he could not suppress some of his misgivings. The two countries had been at war for hundreds, no, thousands of years. Why should they stop when he wanted them to? He sighed again, and then slipped under the covers as he lay down. As he fell asleep, his mind was still whirring with thoughts. Would they succeed? Or would they be destroyed?

Ion, one of the diplomats, recited the pledge faultlessly. He had taken only ten minutes to memorise it, he had always been blessed with a brilliant memory, and a clear mind that could pick apart the feelings of a person in seconds, and in the same instant he could think of the exact thing that would comfort that person. Comfort them, or bring their whole world crashing down. You would not know it to look at him; brown eyes, brown hair and a frail body. But look more closely and you would see a fierce intelligence in those eyes. The intelligence was what had caused him to be picked for this particular venture.

He glanced around at everyone else, then headed to the stables to fetch his horse. It was not a large, impressive horse such as the ones he had no doubt the warriors would be riding, but the small chestnut coloured mare had served him well so far. He placed a bucket full of feed in front of his mount, then placed his saddle upon her back and began gently tightening the straps. Once they were secure he stopped and tied complex, tight knots into the leather. He placed the bit between his horse’s teeth and then led the horse out of its stall by the reins, gently pulling whenever she slowed. Once he had her on the far side of the courtyard, near the gate, he waited for everyone else to arrive. He had not expected anyone else to be ready by that time, he had assumed that everyone else had chosen larger horses than he had, and so therefore it would take them longer to fit their saddles to their mounts.

As he waited he gazed up into the sky, staring at the stars. He wondered if somewhere the people who they hoped to become allied with were staring at the same view. He had always been interested in science, particularly the stars. Soon his attention wavered however and he retrieved a brush from his bags, and began to run it along his mounts back. As he did so he allowed his thoughts to wonder, thinking about what it was that would await him and the others in the enemy’s cities.

In the capital city of the Olkun’ut their leader, Morrigan, was holding a meeting with some of his most trusted advisors. His piercing blue eyes switched their gaze to one of the oldest present. He had been a tactician for over six decades and had had much experience in the art of war. “I think that we should attack in the south. They are weak there, their troops have been depleted and we can destroy them if we hurry to send troops there” He said animatedly, at the same time as jabbing at the map lain out on the table in front of them with a pointer. He moved some figurines or troops to the south, showing his plans after he had spoken.

Morrigan had to suppress a laugh. He did not think they would ever win the war, nor did he want the war to go either way. It was a way of life for everyone that was his view. Without war, what would they do to pass the time? That philosophy that war was something to pass the time had made him ruthless. He did not see human death as a tragedy, only as something normal. When his own mother had cried he had not shed a single tear. He had gone right on eating his food, and then retired for the night. Acting as if nothing had happened.

“True, but we cannot depleted our forces too much from the places you have moved them. Otherwise we will not be able to hold out against the masses of troops they have here” Morrigan said, and took his own pointer then moved some of the troops back to where they had been. “However, we can spare some troops. We shall go with that strategy for now. I look forward to our next meeting in three days time,” He continued. The council all stood as one and left the room them. Morrigan’s eyes followed them all the way, the only part of his body that moved. Once they had left he sighed, and ran a hand through his short black hair. He stared down at the map in front of him hungrily, feeling his blood heat at the thought of the soldiers fighting under his command. Yes, he thought, as he sat back. War was the best pastime mankind had yet to come up with. As he began to eat his evening meal, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he thought of the bloodshed happening even now. Yes, war was the most pleasurable pastime.

Nick always had trouble with formalities. As a mercenary he just got paid to do whatever was asked. Reciting oaths was not his cup of tea. Begrudgingly he mumbled out what was necessary and left as fast as possible. In the stable he lit a cigarette, adjusted his weaponry and readied his horse. His was a strong black quarter-horse. Loading the saddle onto his back Nick's thoughts were on the tasks at hand. There wasn't much to do yet, but he was sure that soon they would be hacking away at hordes of faceless soldiers. Grinning broadly at the thought of wanton death and destruction he tightened the last of the straps and and climbed onto his horse. Riding out to meet Ion, he stopped by his side. "You're pretty quick. Not bad, for a diplomat." He smiled and winked. I hope the others don't take too long. I hate waiting." Nick leaned back in his saddle and pulled out one of his daggers, twirling it between his fingers idly. Patience was not one of his strong suits.

A certain sense of nostalgia filled Jurige’s mind as he recited the oath. This kind of ceremony was familiar considering his former position; even his memories could not distract him of the surroundings though. He was surrounded by Kerait's only female solider, a sickly but famous diplomat and two warriors that he did not exactly recognize; with these two beside he could not help but think that this was a very odd group. He would have probably made a few of the same choices himself; he liked using unorthodox strategies after all. When the business had subsided and his mind was clear of distractions he had made his way out but at an obviously slow pace.

Refurbished or not, it was very awkward to be wearing the same black coat the he wore as a disguise for the protest; or at least it was when compared to garments that the other diplomat and the Snow Swordsman were wearing. If the man’s memory had not been warped, he had bought the coat for a single gold coin off a merchant, who had selling in the capital’s local market.

When outside, Jurige could have swore that he saw a black stallion: one almost identical to the horse that put him his mutilated state. He could not help but look utterly disgusted at the animal. It had to be some sort of sick joke set up by one of officials, who thought of him as a traitor despite what Yericho may have thought of him. Hesitantly Jurige limped over to the horse and then laughed. How could he have been so foolish? Hitching a ride with one of the others was probably a much better idea.

Aran recited the customary words of the ceremony with ease. This mission had been important to her, important enough that she had spent many sleepless nights planning every scenario, reciting any diplomatic speech she could come up with. Of course, diplomacy was best left to diplomats. Her job was to protect them.

After dismissal, Aran set off at a brisk pace towards the stables, watching as the ones called Nick and Ion conversed a little ways away. On entering the stables, a low whinny immediately sounded through the barn-like building. The horse who had issued the noise was leaning its snowy white head over the stall door, tossing its long, thick mane in anticipation. Snowfoot was a big, beautiful stallion with unmarred white fur that covered his toned body. He sounded another whinny. The horse had been with Aran on many an occasion; for the last six years, he had been her personal horse. The two were close; Snowfoot was the friend Aran had never had.

It took her all of thirty seconds to grab the familiar riding gear and saddle the all-too-willing stallion up. It helped that the horse cooperated when being saddled, not puffing out his belly to gain more breathing room under the girth, and obediently chomping down on the grass-stained bit. Aran could tell by his coat that he had either been groomed recently or had been anticipating an adventure and resisted the urge to roll in the dirt. She put her left foot in the stirrup, then swung her other leg over. Snowfoot immediately began to move towards the gathering of the other riders. He was indeed a very intelligent horse.

" I hope I didn't take too long for you, Nick, " Aran sighed good-naturedly. Her deep green eyes eyed his dagger, then she readjusted her crossbow where it hung on her belt, and flexed her calves where she knew daggers were hidden in her knee-high black boots. Her red, patterned tunic rustled a little on top of the short black leggings. Last of all was a hand to the gigantic broadsword that was tightly strapped sideways across her back. Just-past-shoulder-length snow-white hair matched the perfect coat of the large stallion Snowfoot. It was obvious why she had earned the nickname of the "Snow Swordsman".

" Now, we just wait for the others. "

"A beautiful lady never takes too long" Nick replied, giving her a dashing smile and a wink. He stubbed out his cigarette on the sole of his boot and lit a fresh one. "After we get back how about a date? hm?" Nick chuckled and closed his eyes, the sun warming his face. He started humming an unfamiliar tune, the dagger moving between his fingers fluidly. He smiled more broadly, lost in a daydream of the Ideal Future.

Ion nodded to Nick in responce to him speaking, but apart from that made no sign that he had heard him. He eyed the dagger in his hands distastefully, but chose not to comment. After all, it would not do to offend the man who was meeant to defend him, nor to spurn the weapon he would most likely use to do so. Better to keep his opinions of war to himself. He continued to groom his mare, and once satisfied he stored away the brush he had been using. He took out a piece of parchment on which he had carefully copied out a copy of a map, and began to carefully mark various routes they could take. He then took out another piece of parchment, and began writing upon it notes for the various advantages and disadvantages of each route. He had no need for an inkpot, he had found a hollow feather and fixed a small pot to the top, which a hole in the bottom that connect it to the feather. The ink ran down the hollow tube and to the nib. He had been trying to find a way of replicating the effect manually, but so far had been unsuccessful.

Once he had finished his work he carefully rolled up the parchment and stored both rolls back in his bags. While he waited he tapped his finger against the saddle of his horse, beating out a constant drumming. As he did so he looked around, ever alert for anyone or anything that was amiss. He sighed slightly as he looked in the direction of the stables where the final warrior was. He muttered something about "warrior types" never understanding the importance of punctuality, then sat down next to his horse. He was impatient to get going before first light. That way they could slip away without notice, and without fuss. Although Ion enjoyed ceremonies, he could only imagine how distasteful they might seem to his warrior companions. He sighed to himself as he thought this. Although it was neccesary for them to be together, the two different groups came from different worlds entirely, different lifestyles. It would be hard to get along, thought Ion. But then, things never were easy. Quite the opposite in fact.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Aran's lips.
" Maybe. Though I wouldn't expect any promises if I were you. Unlike those women who live common lives and are limitedly free to do what they wish, I have commitments to oblige before recreation, " she spoke amusedly. His attempts at flirting were lost on Aran. Her words were true; she was a warrior before she was a woman. She had her duties before her recreation.

Ion was obviously getting uncomfortable, as he was trying to occupy himself. Probably marvelling at the ability of most warriors to totally miss the point of punctuality. And wondering how he would ever survive with these "incompetent oafs" to guard him. Court members often had a bad habit of underestimating the intelligence of others. Not all though. Aran had to admit though, everyone was prejudiced about one thing or another... like the fact that most people thought that women and men weren't equals. And the fact that she was prejudiced in thinking that everyone thought that. Despite this, if someone were to prove that they had another opinion, Aran would probably believe them. She believed that everyone had some sense of honesty. Probably not too good for a warrior to think that way, but still.

Snowfoot pranced a little in impatience, and Aran gently patted his thickly braided mane. They would have to be off soon, if only for the fact that her white stallion could break into a canter at any given moment, considering his level of excitement.

Nick sat up and glanced at Aran. The dagger he was playing with disappeared up his sleeve and he raised his hands in mock protest "Alright, alright, I can take a hint. A simple "no" would have sufficed you know." He chuckled and gave her a playful wink. Glancing at the stable he mumbled to himself "What's taking that idiot so long? Is he having trouble with his horse or something?" Nick was getting restless and his horse felt it. He began pawing the ground, and shaking his head. "Easy there, Nightshade. We'll be off soon enough" Nick rubbed his neck reassuringly. "As soon as that idiot gets his ass over here, that is." Nick had two pet peeves. He hated waiting and he hated making others wait. Out of boredom he glanced over at what Ion was busy writing, but the complex diagrams only made his head hurt. Deciding instead to check over his gear one more time he pulled out all three of his daggers and checked their blades for nicks and dents. Satisfied, he stowed them back up his sleeve and pulled out his sword. Happy that the blade was as sharp as always he swung it around a bit, checking it's centre of gravity and weight. Nothing has changed since yesterday, but it was better than doing nothing. he stowed the sword back onto his back and glanced at the stables again. "The nerve of some people. I should go kick his ass just for making me wait this long." Nick leaned back in his saddle and closed his eyes. "Wake me up, when Captain Punctuality makes his great appearance" he said to no one in particular.

Jun had rushed out of the ceromony as fast as he could, rushing down the hallways and tieing up his long blond hair as he went, or enough so that it wouldn't bother him. The lithe boy, annoyed that the door was too far, opted to go out the window. Jun didn't have any weapons, or the such, infact he looked about as normal as any passerby. But that suited him just fine. Having trained alongside his idolised brother until the older boy got called away, Jun slowly devolped a fighting style that was ridiculas and unorthodox. He would use anything as a weapon and move with no pattern and a loose stance.

He jogged into the stables and greeted his old friend with a large boyish grin. She whinnied back to him. He and Aeron had grown and lived side by side most of their lives. She was smaller than most horses, perhapes even weaker than the others in the stable, but it was noargument that she was fast and agile, suited perfectly to his fighting style. She was a chestnut brown in color with a milky white mane. She was restless as he walked over, happy to trot ahead of Jun as he let her out. "What's say we warm up while who-sit and them get ready?" he laughed. Jun didn't need to get ready, he rode bareback with little to carry.

Now he, riding Aeron, trotted back to the others. They had been off practicing quick jumps and turns before heading back. They came to stop, wandering back, Jun with a smile on his face and in his birght blue eyes.

Jurige had sat by the black stallion for a moment and waited for some one to notice that there was no way in the world that he was going to be able to get on that thing. Hell, even the child had a better chance than him. While waiting He could help but watch the activates of the others. He could hear every thing completely clear from his position but there was enough to good laugh out of Nick’s rejection. That moment of joy at someone else’s expense raised the man’s sprits up a bit.

Eventually Jurige was ready to attempting getting on a horse for the first time since the incident. First Jurige made sure to lean again the stead; fortunately he did not react to Jurige’s touch. The man started to tie his crutches on the saddle but the problems started when he tried to get on. He was able to pull himself up easily; staying on was the problem. Jurige had very limited control in his buttocks. The stallion started to move and eventually he lost his balance. Jurige just picked himself after landing flat on his back; thankfully he had only fell about five feet.

Jurige could simply expect the others to help him, and he could not help himself; He had to ask for help. Grabbing his boomerang from under pocket in his coat, pulled his arm back, and threw it towards the group; the hunting tool was primarilly used to gather attention and that was it was being used for now. "I need some assistance, people." He said as sat down and waited for the tool to return, along with a ride.

Nick almost fell off his horse as the boomerang flew by his head. Following the curve of the object he traced it back to its rightful owner. Taking one good look at the owner he realized why the weapon was thrown. It was a cry for help and not an act of aggression. Turning Nightshade around he rode calmly to his comrade. "I take it you need a lift?" He asked cheerfully.
Hopping off his horse, he reached a hand out to help Jurige. "Here, climb on. Nightshade is very gentle. Usually." He grinned and helped his crippled comrade into the saddle before climbing in behind him. "This is probably the easiest way for you to ride without falling off, although it may seem a little homoerotic. Just grin and bear it as best as you can." Nightshade cantered back to the rest of the group. Nick did a quick head count before announcing "well, seems like we're all here and ready. Where to, Ion? Since you seem like the smartest of this group (aside from me, that is) it's only natural that you lead. Those fancy charts you drew up earlier couldn't have been for nothing."
Nick smiled and relit his cigarette, taking care not to burn the back of Jurige's neck. "Oh by the way, I hope you don't mind a smoker. It's a nasty habit but it helps me concentrate." He blew a smoke ring that hovered like a halo over Jurige's head before dissipating into the air. "Hey look, you're a saint now!" Nick was greatly amused by his simple trick.

Jun pulled himself back into Aeron, who was starting to get notably bored, huffing and unable to stay still. Jun draped himself cat like over er back, resting his chin on her head, her ears flicking him in the face, "Are we going yet? This is almost as boring as that ceramony, what was the point of that anyway?" Jun groaned, something he was relativly good at, although not particularly praised for, "Is the trip going to be long?"

When the tool returned to Jurige, he noticed that help was arriving in the form of the brutish man-child, Nick. Jurige quickly untied the the animal bone crutches from the stallion's harness's and collasped them into his pack,while admiring the clever craftsmanship. He was ready when Nick finally came and was put in an awkward jailbait riding positions that simply had to be both endured and reminded of by the merc.

It became apparent that there were indeed two small children accompanying him on the king's request. It was certianly tolerable for him at the time, though. He simply went straight to the more urgent matters; hiding the fact that he was somewhat amused. "Despite a little narcism, it seems like your religious experiences might not be completely clouding your judgment, Mercenary." He said unaware of the unintentional pun. "My confinement made it difficult to obtain details about the current state of our war with the Olkun'ut; Its only logical to assume that Ion is more in the know."

Jurige's attention drifted towards the child instead of the "leader"or "man-child". The sense of boredom and impatience was definitely something that he could relate to. Holding on the horse's neck with on arm, he started to dig in to his bag for the boomerang but stopped and put everything of his back into order. It seem ludicrous that he even considered letting a complete stranger use his family heirloom as a toy. The situation was getting to him. It was getting hard for him to think straight and imagined that he was making an utter fool of himslef.

Aran's smile diminished a bit, though the amusement remained-- bittered, yes, but amusement all the same. Nick seemed to take the rejection rather well, although she had spoken honestly in what she said. He was unmoved by the apparent failure, probably figuring that there were plenty of fish in the sea, ones that were prettier and less intimidating. What was funny was that he had probably been the first to dare to ask her "out" over the course of her life. His playful comments received no comment from Aran.

The Snow Swordsman watched curiously as the blonde-haired, blue-eyed child from before, in the ceremony in which he had been decidedly bored and uncomfortable, trotted up to them on a mare just as jittery as Snowfoot, her own stallion. In fact, Snowfoot whinnied in a low tone and edged towards the mare, puffing his chest out. It was obvious that the enourmous white steed had taking a liking to the mare. Aran reined him in before he could get any closer; it wouldn't do to have Snowfoot too close to the mare.

The boomerang whizzed by the rejected Nick, who immediately rushed to the side of the diplomat on the ground before Aran could say a word or distract Snowfoot enough to move him over to the distressed official. Nick spoke to the diplomat for a minute, before helping him up onto the steed he was riding. The way they were sitting was indeed a little awkward, and the smile once again tugged at the corners of Aran's lips. 'Homoerotic', Nick called it. Snowfoot seemed to understand, and the big white stallion snorted and tossed his mane, all the while his muzzle pointed towards the two men that shared the mount.

Nick's childish antics would indeed become annoying. If he was constantly making these immature comments, or calling the diplomat a saint and blowing smoke halos over his head, then it would become tiresome for everyone, not just the low-tolerance Snow Swordsman. Not to mention the arrogant confidence in which he so carelessly carried himself. Although he was immature and arrogant, Aran had to admit it was sort of charming. She could easily see how he had come by that air of confidence, and why he wasn't fazed at all at her rejection. It was easy for him to get what he wanted.

After the many comments, all having to do with leaving and the journey, sounded, Aran finally spoke up.
" Yes, we should probably get going soon. It's past time to leave.... Ion, would you care to take the lead? " As she said this, she kept a single hand tightened on Snowfoot's reins. In addition to his anxious prancing around, he was still edging towards the blonde child's mare. He whinnied softly at the extra restraint, but stayed in place and began to paw his hooves.

Jun looked each of the members of the group over in his own time, a huge grin breaking his face. Some tension had already been raised, which ment alot of fun for the small warrior. Something seemed to be bothering Aeron, which wasn't apparent to the blond boy until the bucked her head back, giving him a sharp smack to his jaw. "Ahhh, wha' oo oo 'at 'or?" he whined, words slurred as he held his mouth open and winced, his mare ignoring his pain and shaking her head. Jun blinked for a moment before getting her drift, giggling almost, "Well, you're a pretty horse that's why!" he laughed, patting the uneasy mare.

The second things looked like they were finnally getting on their way, Jun was as energised as a march hare in a heated battle. He would've been bouncing up and down on his seat if it weren't just a little painful for Aeron, who had her head turned and eyes trained on the first empty space she could see. Jun swore she wouldn've blushed if it weren't for the chestnut fur.

Ion sighed inwardly at the idle chatter of those around him. He scowled when they discussed leaving also. It was all well and good talking about moving, but talking about something and actually doing it were two things entirely. He lightly jumped into the saddle of his hrose, and kicked her sides, sterring her towards the main gates. "I don't know about you lot, but I much prefer actually doing things in this situation, rather than sitting round talking about them" He commented, venting his frustration.

His bad mood lifted the moment he was outside the gates. It was now late, no, early. The dawn was coming by now he thought. But then it did not matter, as long as they were gone before dawn had actually arrived they would attract no attention. The stars were bright as he looked up into the sky, and filled his lungs with the fresh night air. His mare whinnied slightly, and he smiled at that. She had been with him for many years now, although she had only had her name, Sipra, for two of those. Before that he had not used her much, and for that reason had not valued her. But when he became one of the kings most trusted diplomats he had travelled a lot, to the various cities under the command of the Kerait.

He glanced behind him and saw the others had also come with him. He put them out of his mind as he looked ahead, trying to forget everything and simply enjoy the ride. However, he could not do so. He never could, his intelligence did not let him. A mind such as his needed almost constant acitivity, or he would become irritable with extreme swiftness. To prevent this he pulled some parchment out of his backpack, along with a piece of smooth flat wood he used to lean on. He then began working mathmatical sums, allowing himself to get lost in the figures.

Nick cracked his knuckles and grinned "Well then, let's make like paraplegics and roll out." Urging his horse forward he followed slightly behind and to the right of Ion. It was hard being comfortable in his saddle because of Jurige but Nick endured it. It was necessary, he thought, to have Jurige with him. He knew his own skills well and knew he would be able to protect the cripple better this way. He did not know the full abilities of his comrades and as a result did not trust them. He looked at each of his companions in turn.

The kid, he thought, was a double edged sword. On one hand he looked lithe and agile enough to avoid getting in trouble. On the other hand, his lack of a weapon meant he was either a hand-to-hand fighter (meaning Nick would have to constantly watch his back) or one of those rare "adaptation" fighters that used whatever was available as a weapon. Nick made a mental note to get to know him better.

Next, the woman. Judging by the way she carried herself she took her position very seriously. His past experiences told him that when faced with a male and a female fighter of similar skills and strength that the woman was more dangerous. She had to work twice as hard (at least) to get to where she is now and as a result was more competent. However women had innate... weaknesses... that could cause problems. Regardless, she was beautiful and Nick decided she was a valuable addition to the team.

Ion was the unofficial team leader. He seemed like a brilliant tactician that made up for his obvious physical weakness with mental strength that Nick could not begin to imagine. Not terribly interested in such people, Nick drew his attention to the last member of the team

Jurige was a cripple. That much he knew. He also had some sort of boomerang. Disregarding him as the most physically incapable (and thus most useless) member of the party, Nick figured that he needed priority attention in the event of a fight.

Sighing to himself, Nick decided, for now, to just concentrate on the road. His job as a warrior meant that he had to put his own neck on the line to save another's. However he wasn't alone, and if the other fighters were at least half as competant as he was, they would be able to finish the journey with minimal damage. If they were lucky they might even all make it back alive.

Nick lit another cigarette.

Morrigan looked up as someone entered the room. "Sir, there is a war chief here to see you" He said, then quickly left. Morrigan raised himself upright, immediately alert, and looked at the doors through which the war chief would arrive. It was not long before someone appeared. He was a large man, over six feet tall and his frame was quivering with muscles. And yet he was obviously scared to be in the presence of Morrigan, but then almost everyone who came before him was. Even those who were bringing good news. Those who brought bad news were almost always completely and utterly terrified, usually the bearer of bad news would be carried from the room in several pieces. Several bloodstained pieces.

"My Lord" Said the war chief in a termbling voice as he knelt before Morrigan. Morrigan himself barely spared a glance at the man, preferring instead to take a sip of the red wine on the table beside where he was sitting. "What news do you have?" He asked calmly. Calm, for now. "We have advanced in the North and are pushing back the hated enemy there. We believe within the next two months we will manage to break through" He said. Morrigan sighed, he had heard enough of that kind of thing today already. Time to teach this man a lesson, he decided.

"And yet you, and others in your position, have said exactly the same things to me many times over the years. Why is it, then, that whenever you appear before me at a later date what you have told me willl happen has not happened? Indeed, sometimes it is us that has been pushed back after you have said this." He paused, enjoying the sense of despair he could sense in the man in front of him.

"Do you see what I am saying? We never advance more than a few hundred yards, and neither do they. This war will never end. Nor should it, indeed. Without it we would have no aim, nothing to focus on. So your reports mean nothing at all to me in actual fact, they are just another part of the thing that helps pass the time which is called war." He continued, pulling his sword from its scabbard and lovingly passing a cloth over its blade, cleaning it until the blade gleamed. The man in front of him kept perfectly still, not saying a word.

"Unfortnately my views can never get out to the general public" Morrgian said with a sigh. "No, that wouldn't do at all. Can I trust you not to tell anyone?" He asked the man. He was visibly shaking, and sweat coated his limbs. "Of course you can, m-my lord" He stuttered, swaying slightly. "Good" replied Morrigan. Then he swept his sword down and decaptitated the man in front of him. He watched as servants hurried in to clear up the mess, then decided he had had enough for one day. He contemptuously speared his sword in the dead body of the man he had just killed, before the servants reached it, then headed out of the room. Although he was meant to be speaking to another person in another five minutes, they would have to wait. He knew they would not complain, so he did not mind making them wait another day. After all, no one had yet dared complain to him. And no one ever would.

Ion looked around as the others caught up with him, and stowed away his parchment. He decided that he needed to get to know the others better, due to the fact he would be travelling with them for the next few months. "So why were you chosen for this trip?" He said, to no one in particular, trying to show a demeanour of friendly interest. In actual fact he did not want to talk to the others at all, but then, he thought, it was a neccesary evil.

He reached round and held some feed in front of his horses mouth, allowing her to take it from him before he withdrew his hand. He smiled slightly as she chewed her way through the food, and stroked her neck. It occured to him that the one person he had shown the most kindness to so far was his horse. He had to supress a laugh at that, and determined to try harder in future. He was a diplomat; he should be able to adjust as the situation demanded him to. Should be able to, at any rate.

"That's a good question. I'm here because i'm getting a fat paycheque. And a nice bonus for each diplomat that makes it back alive. Other than that, I enjoy excitement and seeing new lands, I guess." Nick decided to omit the fact that he was in it mostly because he got to kill. As much as that was his passion he noticed people started looking at him funny when he admitted to it. People seemed to respect his profession more if he said it was for the money, and so he stuck to that story. "So basically, I'm just a very expensive babysitter." Nick chuckled at putting it that way.

Jun was starting to like his companions. On one hand, it looked like he would get to watch a couple of wicked fights, on the other hand, this one guy was a compleat laugh. The term 'expensive babysitter' brought a grin to his face and a small chuckle. Aeron wasn't having much of a time so far however, always making sure she was atleast two trotts ahead of the womans horse.

"I suppose I'm here for the hell of it. Sounds like a bit of fun, adventure is always good" Jun added his piece happily, "Might run into my brother on the way too, if not, oh well" he shrugged. The boy, although seemingly happy to 'play' by himself had the small weakpoint that was his older brother, or his idol.