Monsters Among Men- Last Stand

Keikeiya · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Keikeiya** on Mon Apr 19, 2010 10:51 pm

The OOC is located here: Monsters Among Men OOC

Blood trickled down her fingertips, and it was not her own.

Nathiria dragged the heavy human across the field, leaving a trail of flickering crimson blood that stained the grass. A warm summer sun brought pleasurable weather, and in the thin woods surrounding Armsworth it was a perfect example of a pleasant day. The tribal elf brought the human to lie in a bumpy lump just behind a tree. Standing up, Nathiria stretched out, and then leaned against the rough bark. It was obvious she was out of breath.

“You’re supposed to be a mighty warrior, and yet you have trouble dragging a simple human across a field.” Vlade handed her a white cloth, and Nathiria took it gratefully to wipe off her bloody hands.

“Why didn’t you just do it?”

Vlade raised an eyebrow as if offended, but a smile did not crack his face. “I’m too delicate for things like that.”

“Hmph…” Nathiria replied, crouching down to eye the town of Armsworth. The hill they stood upon gave a more adaptable vision. Nathiria’s dark haired friend took a place next to her, his fingers finding their way up to the tattoo on his forehead.

“I told you we should have put the hoods up sooner. The death of the human could have been---“

Nathiria interrupted, her faded green eyes taking a sharp glance at him before turning back to a slow gaze at Armsworth. “He was the one who insisted on calling for help. Besides, we don’t have time for this. Where are they keeping the captives?”

Vlade took a knee, the crunching sound of the gravel giving way to the weight. “They said they thought the captives were being held here. I doubt the humans would keep them in such a small village.”

Nathiria had already stood up, pulling a dark hood over her face. The material dropped to her feet, and the only visible item on her person was the double bladed sword still on her back: a single droplet of blood clinged to the silver metal. Vlade opened his mouth to object, but Nathiria already made her way towards the village. Rather than saying any other words, he pulled his cowl over his face, and he too followed her down to the settlement.

Her feet came to settle on the worn ground of the village. Tavern, hall, farms, homes…blah blah blah… Vlade stood behind her, and for the moment no one paid much attention to the two shady figures. Cat and girl, more homes, warehouse…warehouse? The tall building stood on the other side of the village, guarded by four men who appeared restless and totally ready to go home to their families.

Nathiria bobbed her head towards the structure, and Vlade glanced up from where he stared at a nearby rose. The look Vlade gave Nathiria spoke volumes.

“We kill them, how else would we get in?” Vlade narrowed his eyes disapprovingly. “They’ve killed our tribe. Eye for an eye, Vlade!”

“Is there a problem here?” Someone suddenly asked. Both Audwais turned to face the three armored guards, each having a hand on the hilt of their blade, but they were not yet drawn.

“No we’re fine.”

The answer was short and simple, but the guards couldn’t leave the matter alone. “We would appreciate it if you could remove your hoods, please?” Vlade and Nathiria said nothing after looking at each other. Shaking their heads no, they meant to take a step back and retreat away from where they stood. The single guard repeated his request. “I asked you to remove the hoods please. I'm sure you heard the rumors about the missing people here, and we have several reports of Tribal-Filth and we just want to make sure that—“

Vlade grabbed hold of both shoulders on his female counterparts body, restraining her. “There must be a mistake.’ He said at last.

While they continued the petty argument, a few passer-by’s stopped to watch, half amused by the sudden break in everyday life. Had they known, however, what lie under the earth beneath them, they may not have stood so idly by.

Ghaarme · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Ghaarme** on Mon Apr 19, 2010 11:26 pm

It was quite lovely...sunny, peaceful and quiet. Well, as quiet as Armsworth could be considering the place was just small enough that everyone knew eachother, but just large enough that people often yelled to communicate. It didn't really matter though, as one particularly dark-skinned elf was having a grand time of lying on the roof of the Muscle n' Cleaver Inn. He wondered, not for the first time, if he should actually be doing something today. His mother--or the woman he called so--had told him to go out hunting, but with yesterday's haul of three deer Airn was sure she had to be joking. So, the tribal elf made a show of donning his ranger gear and even going so far as to take the long-bow before heading out...and immediately hopping rooftops to find a comfortable spot to relax.

Hmm... for the past hour or so Airn Rementirr had been observing the comings and goings of the townsfolk and some others from an upside-down position, lying down atop the shingles to let his head hang over the edge. So far it had been three merchants, two patrols of guards, two huntsmen...but one of the huntsmen had yet to return. Gatrie. A large fellow, hairy too, but a lovable softy once you got to know him. Airn knew that the middle-aged hunter loved to leave at dawn and return for breakfast, so why the sudden change in routine? Maybe he found some big game? I should help...oh?

In the next few moments the tribal elf completely lost his train of thought, crimson irises focused on the pair of dark-clad figures arriving at the town gate. The two seemed to be communicating...but Airn couldn't pick up what they were saying from this distance. With an ease born of either natural grace or sheer sloth, the young elf braced his hands upon the edge of the roof, pulled his body forward and vaulted off to land in the middle of the street. This drew less than a few glances from passerby, as it was common knowledge that an eccentric fostered elf lived in southern Armsworth.

Airn proceeded to sling the bow over his shoulder and saunter over to where the strangers wre in order to get a better look at the two. It wasn't often that Armsworth got some people that had faces worth hiding...maybe it was those pale people he'd heard rumors about?

“reports of Tribal-Filth and we just want to make sure that—“ the tribal elf glanced up sharply at the remark. The cloaked men where being cross-examined by guards, and even though Airn disliked the barbaric fey as much as the next citizen, it didn't make him any less sensitive to who he truly was. The painful childhood memories stirred up by the racial slur were summarily quelled.

“There must be a mistake.’ one of the newcomer said...with a slight lilt to his voice, Airn noted. He quirked an eyebrow before patting the offending guardsman on the shoulder.

"Burlen. Friend. I think I remember telling you not to use bad words." his gaze pierced the seemingly older man's eyes. "Racism is never a good thing, no matter who it is directed towards."

With a smile the elf turned to regard the odd pair. "Sorry about that...sometimes people seem to forget there are other citizens besides humans here..." Airn thought he caught a glimpse of ivory skin beneath one of the stranger's cowl's. "Um...you two seem new in town...stop by the Muscle n' Cleaver Inn if you need any showing around...they have good food too..." he was dumbfounded and couldn't figure out why. Sure it was odd to see someone so pale in these regions, but...there was something else.

PhoenixAerith · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **PhoenixAerith** on Mon Apr 19, 2010 11:56 pm

Euphori made her way through the darkness of the bureau, stealthily avoiding her brothers and family members, not that they cared about her daily antics or anything. She grasped for her grandfather's runes in the and the other various magical devices used mainly for teleportation spells.

The girl placed her hand along the sidings of the dirt wall and paused at the opening at the end of the long passageway. She had no need for any source of light, for she was already attuned to the constant darkness of the underground world her family and race resided in.

Euphori inhaled sharply, sitting in the center of a pentagonal-shaped figure that was etched into the marble tiles of the floor. She mentally and physically prepared herself for another risky spell that she really wasn't even supposed to be attempting. The aeriel gulped nervously and tucked a long strand of loose hair behind her ear, trying to concentrate on the dark incantation she had once failed to master in her lessons.

She murmured a few words in the language or her race, awkwardly stumbling on a few verses that could potentially alter the outcome of her enchantments for the worse. Euphori felt a wave of eerie chills wash over her and she grew confident, her voice becoming bolder and louder with each phrase.

The aeriel shrieked in surprise as she felt herself being lifted from the ground, 43 versus too early before the actual teleporting process should've happened. She squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation and thought for sure this was the end of her short-lived life.

Or so she thought.

Euphori awoke, fidgeting uncomfortably against the brilliant rays of sunshine. She was blinded by the sun's light. Still lieing flat on her back, she dug into her pocket, causing many random objects to scatter in the grass, and pulled out a black, silk-like cloth. She tied it around her eyes and vision flooded back to her in black and white color.

It was now, that she truly got a glimpse of her surroundings. Euphori stood abruptly, after noticing the crowd that had gathered around her. The humans had apparently noticed her arrival. The girl raised her eyebrow questioningly at the expressions on their faces. Fear? Curiosity? Wonder? Or a little of each?

"Pardon, Ma'am. Would you be so kind as to tell me where I am?" she asked a portly woman, gripping her son's hand. The lady's eyes widened. Perhaps it was the fact that Euphori towered over the town folk.. or maybe it was the foreign accent that probably has never been heard by human ears before. The crowd shied away from her, expanding the space she was already given by a good 3 feet. Euphori gripped her staff tightly and strained a smile, turning away from the gawking group stiffly, aggravated by their response. Were all humans so hostile?

The ariel cast her gaze downwards so as not to catch the eye of any passerby, although she could feel their stares burning into her. Her silent reverie was interrupted as she collided with a dark-skinned figure in front of her. Euphori stepped backwards a step from the impact. She opened her mouth to apologize for the collision and stopped even before beginning when she caught a pair of scarlet eyes.

Zenatsu · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Zenatsu** on Tue Apr 20, 2010 12:36 am

Early morning, light summer breezes, a peaceful summer day. Zentsu finished packing this things to advance his travels: To the Grand city of Faycoast. Leaning his room he descended the stairs into the calm bar that the inn hosted, not very many customers this early, as many are out doing morning chores, the men usually wander in around the hour for lunch. Zenatsu adjusted his too to where it covered his head, wanting to ignore confronting anyone. The clatter of coins hit the counter-top which attracted the attention of the barkeeper, who only took a glance at the wings of his Atavian customer leaving the front door. Smirking, the bartender knew the kid was kind and pocketed the coins.

Zenatsu stood outside the inn, taking in the early morning breeze and aroma. That was until he noticed to his side a small gathering of guards with some other people. His curiosity gave in as he slowly wandered near, but not too close the the confrontation. “We would appreciate it if you could remove your hoods, please?" This request made Zenatsu adjust his own hood again, to hide his own face and not gather attention, however, it didn't don on him that the other two hooded figures got their attention due to their hoods being up. Zen watched as the infamous hyperly active elf joined in on the conversation with the guards, speaking about something or another, The elf didnt interest him as much as the two hooded figures.

Zen gazed upon the newcomers, Pondering what they were. From what Zen was able to gather, One was as tall and nearly as slender as the one in front of it that it gabbed unto, possibly male, but if the assumed male was indeed a male, then that would constitute to them being elven. As the dark toned elf served as a comparison. It worked perfectly. So now Zen ad identified one as being the male, and the other a female, however, if they were truly elves or not, was beyond him, the male elf didn't seem to carry much masculine features to himself.

Zenatsu himself was more or less chiseled, from most his life working with his father on the farm. However he as well had no body hair, as his race tends to work more towards feathers than hair. The only part of the Atavian body that tend to grow hair is the head. Zenatsu watched the guards to see how they would react to the Elf intruding himself, and how the newcomers would react to being approached by the town guardsmen

Lycos · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Lycos** on Tue Apr 20, 2010 10:50 pm

"Rev of Dawn." The rather burly looking fellow and his also burly looking friends held the man by his blue shirt, with full intent to punch the pretty boy in the face. "What kind of name is that?! Whateva, ya cheated." Rev looked as innocent as possible, even holding his hands up. "I didn't cheat. You should have folded, it's not my fault." Rev nervously smiled, eyebrows raised in what appeared to be fear. "Naw, ya cheated. As payment give use all ya got on ya." The man noticed Rev's strange clothing, grabbing the turned up collar of his white jacket. "Give us this... and those fancy blue leg guards too." The man grinned, his friends laughing behind him. Since the man had grabbed his jacket, Rev hadn't looked up once. A few seconds after the man finished talking, Rev looked up with a completely emotionless expression on his face, his blue eyes looking straight ahead as his blonde hair fell in front of his face,

"Let go of the jacket, Sir. While it may go past my knees, on you it probably won't fit." The man laughed even louder. He had at least five inches and close to two hundred pounds on Rev, who stood at a respectable 6'3". Rev's slender build, while athletic, didn't intimidate these men in the least. The man gripped the jacket even tighter. "I'll manage, now cough it up." Rev grinned and grabbed the arm of the man, his blue fingerless gloves signifying that he likely wasn't any old drifter. "That's to bad." Rev gripped the arm tighter, removing the man's hand. "L-let go." Rev let out a small "huh" and kneed the man in the jaw, his leg guards shattering any bones. The man fell to the ground in pain, unable to even scream. The other two lunged at Rev, but were met by elbows to the stomach. They fell to their knees and both struggled to breath after having the wind knocked out of them. Rev walked over to the tavern counter and put a few coins on it.

Rev left the tavern and looked up at the sky, taking a deep breath and smiling. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a card. "I'm surprised they caught that move." He threw the card to the ground and started making his way back to the inn he was staying at near the edge of town. He had only been in Armsworth a short time. He had gone to the town to visit the Priest that had taken care of him when he was a child. When he arrived he found out that the Priest had died over four years ago due to natural causes. He visited the grave and even went so far as to take flowers. That was four days ago and since then he has just been lounging around, waiting for transport to Runeswept so he can get back to work. Being a sword for hire, while profitable for someone with his skills, rarely has work these days. Besides for the occasional bodyguard of ruin excavators, nothing really comes through.

Stopping in the middle of the street he scratched his chin and looked both ways. "I guess I could do some more sightseeing. There has to be something to do around here besides ripping off tavern dwellers." He began walking in the opposite direction towards the center of town, wondering what he could do to pass yet another day in a boring place like Armsworth.

Orrin55 · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Orrin55** on Tue Apr 20, 2010 11:08 pm

"Bartender!", Burnt brown eyes watched in amusement as Ashtan watched the Muscle n' Cleaver owner jump at the sound of his voice and hurriedly excuse himself from his audience of mid-day customers. There was little wonder as to why, not when the wiry man was displaying the royal scout symbol in full display by a tied cloth on his shoulder. Despite the dim lighting, the single eye hovering over a single tree much like a sun stood in bright red and could very easily make him a target for many a criminals. "Another orange tea please." Ash asked politely and sighed as the slightly balding man nodded furiously "Our services are always on the house for important men such as yourselves sir." He said earnestly and turned pour out another glass from the pot he kept nearby.

"On the house?", The scout raised an eyebrow as his drink slid in front of him, complete with an orange slice for added flavor, "I don't remember declaring that my drinks should be free."

"But-" Ash inturrupted him with a sudden flick of the wrist and clumsily the bartender caught the two gold coins the young scout had tossed "Just because i'm part of the royal force does not mean i'm an arrogant and ill-trained noble like the ones assigned here." He replied "Service always deserves pay." He flashed a disarming grin and in a matter of seconds the owner relaxed slightly. His eyes strayed towards the incomprehensible tattoos On Ash's arm for an instant to long and instinctively the scout covered it "Just tattoos." he explained "I like how it looks thats all."

He watched the middle-age man nod slowly and turned back to telling the rest of his story leaving Ash to enjoy his tea in silence. The scout leaned back mulling over the past few days as he savored the tangy tea

"Over a period of years people have been disappearing from a small village." He looked up at the king, more out of boredom then interest.

"People disappear all the time." Ash replied "What makes this so strange?" He could see the advisor that stood by the king step forward and open his mouth to speak. "Silence Rimbold" King Rigolds voice cracked harshly and with a huff Rombold stepped back to allow his king to keep speaking "Normally we discover where they disappear and catch the perps, but over the years our scouts have yet to find something." Ash leaned back against the wall, an act that normally would have a man flayed alive "And i'm to find out what the hell is going on." Ash supplied

"Your record is near perfect compare to the rest of my forces, despite the fact it's kept under wraps." Rigold replied "I need the best to deal with this, i need a spellsword, and your the only one i've got." Ashtan raised an eyebrow, there was another full reason why he was going, but that reason was clear and hung in the air like a thick fog. Finally the young scout sighed and turned away "I'll get your perp." Ash called as he stepped out the room "Just keep my room tidy while i'm gone."

Irish Wolf · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Irish Wolf** on Wed Apr 21, 2010 12:33 am

Eric sighed heavily has be placed the nearly empty mug of ale on the bench besides him. There was a crowd gathering around a pair of hooded (apparent) strangers, although he was no expert in the local population of the town. It had always been little more then a night’s rest during the trip to or from Faycoast. The only reason he was here in the daytime was the fault of his employer. He was working for a young man, barely out of his teens and ready to prove to his family he could make money. He had travelled with the young man’s uncle for several years (and owed him a favor), so making sure his fool nephew didn’t get his throat slit on the road, was the least he could do.

However, none of that explains why the merchant’s guard was still there in the daytime. Now the merchant had been gathering information on what goods were in high demand in both of the great human cities and had set out to gain the most profit. Now, he had wanted to save a little coin and cut costs. Unable to convince the man his uncle had appointed to head the guards to go with fewer men, the young lad had bought the cheapest wagons and draft animals he could. This was a mistake, as two of the wagons were broken and three animals dead by the time they reached Armsworth. When the rest of the wagons were looked over, they were all found to have rot or weak wheels and axels. It would be several more days before the repairs were complete and new draft animals to come in from the farms. While they waited, the guardsmen got to sleep in one of the inns, courtesy of the merchant’s coin of course.

Grabbing his spear, Eric levered himself to his feet and nearly sat back down. He could have sworn that his knees creaked and his back popped. Now that was a surprise, he didn’t think he was getting to be a grampa yet. Although he could be, one never really knows if the tavern maid that warmed one’s bed, had gotten a big belly, especially if one never saw her again. And he was a whore’s son after all, so there was another list of women that might have born a child of his and those descents might have had a child by now.

“Your getting old” whispered a voice from somewhere in his mind.

“Shutup” grumbled the merchant guard’s inner voice. The crowd had grown around the strangers and several words from the conversation drifted to his ears. Tribal-filth, mistake, racism, Muscle n' Cleaver. And, to top everything, there was a dark skinned elf there as well, although it looked like he was lacking the tattoos of his kith and kin. It seemed like just the place an old fighter might shed a decade or two.

“Why not call them what they are” said Eric in a pleasant voice, as he strolled up to stand besides the town guards, “Those tribal fairies are filth. Waiting until the warriors are all gone and then attacking caravans like cowards. Hell there a few things I enjoy more then the surprised look of a Tribal-Filth, when he realises that there are guards with the merchant he was going to butcher. Its only surpassed by the look those scum get, when I put my spear through their belly.”

Laughing softly, the older man lean against the spear in his right hand, reaching up with his left to rub the scars running up and down the left side of his face. After a second, he starched the graying roots of his nut brown beard and lowered his hand down to the hilt of a curved dagger, which was stuck in his sword belt.

Keikeiya · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Keikeiya** on Wed Apr 21, 2010 11:18 pm

"Burlen. Friend. I think I remember telling you not to use bad words." Airn appeared to see right through the human. "Racism is never a good thing, no matter who it is directed towards."

“I’d suggest you take a look around you, elf. You live in a world full of it.” Nathiria eyed the man who had broken into the conversation. Airn’s skin was an unusual colour for his race, making him a black wolf among white canines, but the oddity was generally accepted. More importantly however, was that the dark skin was unmarked, making it rather impossible to tell what minority he belonged to. Airn was not one of them, and that was enough to leave him as a total outcast.

The Captain of the guard narrowed his eyes, feeling rather emasculated by the Airn’s interruption. “I don’t want anything to do with your antics! Go home! I think I—what in the Gods name is that?”

The Captain turned his attention to a rather large figure that had approached them: a woman just a few inches taller than he was. “Don’t make em’ like they used to...” He muttered, shaking his head. “Go wander off now, girl.” His lips turned to a thin frown line over his weathered face, and the Guard pushed the girl backward gently, away from the small group. The Captain turned his attention back to the two hooded figurines, standing there rather dumbfounded.

“Those tribal fairies are filth. Waiting until the warriors are all gone and then attacking caravans like cowards. Vlade jerked his head to look at the human who had taken the time to speak. A rugged man stood in front of them, and it was apparent he had seen many things in his lifetime. “Hell there a few things I enjoy more than the surprised look of a Tribal-Filth, when he realises that there are guards with the merchant he was going to butcher. It’s only surpassed by the look those scum get, when I put my spear through their belly.”

Eric proceeded to laugh, and Nathiria in an angry growl tore her hand up to grab the weapon still pressed against her back. Without looking, Vlade caught her hand, already anticipating what she would do. His eyes rested on the way Eric held his hand over the dagger in his belt. She struggled against his grip, but succumbed to the patient level-headedness of her friend.

“We do not want any fight, but simply wish to be on our---“

“Enough of this!” The Captain yelled, his temper finally overcoming the situation. He reached out and tore the hood off Nathiria. She broke her grip from Vlade and pulled loose the double bladed sword from her person, wielding it so the guards would give some distance. They took a few steps backward, and then they too drew their swords.

Burlen barked out loudly in warning, “You are an Outlaw! And anyone else who dares to assist these two will be slain on sight! Airn, move or I won’t hesitate to kill you as well!”

Vlade removed his hood slowly, in order to gain more vision. He too withdrew his staff and held it close to her person. “We just want the captives you took. Two men from our tribe, I assume you interrogated them. I wish to avoid any other bloodshed.”

“Shut up, Vlade. They aren’t going to make deals with us.” Nathiria cut in, swinging the blade in a large circle to provide more room to move about in, the guards backing up to avoid the sharp edge of the silver.

“You’re sure right about that.” The Captain said, rolling his shoulder as if to game up.

Orrin55 · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Orrin55** on Thu Apr 22, 2010 12:46 am

"May i frankly speak that all of this bull is something you would find in a theatrical group?" Ashtan's voice pierced shattered the tension that surronded the crowd. Many turned, curiously as to why a royal scout would so cheerfully intrude during a possible fight to the death. Despite his cheerful skip and lilt in his naturally young voice many could feel the danger radiating of this man as his skip turned into a serious stroll the closer he came. Until he pushed past the elder warrior who spoke out and took a stance between the elves and guards.

In truth the disturbance had him in an annoyed mood. The disturbance had distracted him from connecting his thoughts and angerly he stalked out to fix the problem.

Ashtan turned towards the guards first and dropped his voice towards the appropriate level of danger in an attempt to still them. "I'll determine what happens here, not immature adults who can't see past their stereotypical views.", With that he turned back and looked over the double-bladed sword the female tribal elf held. "That, is an excellent weapon.", The royal scout drew closer to inspect the blade and whistled, "Confident in your sword skills, that much is clear by choice of weapon." He said and waved a hand for the other guards to stand down. As if as an afterthought Ash said "Might as well back down little warriors, these two would take you out and carve you like ham."

Zenatsu · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Zenatsu** on Thu Apr 22, 2010 2:19 am

The Atavian way, a righteous one at that, is not in favor of diplomacy but favors between the just and unjust; right and wrong. The guards showed their colors of hatred of the people called "Audwais" formally known as Tribal Elves. In front of Zenatsu his eyes lingered between the guards and the elves with the defense of another addition, some young human. From this given situation, Zenatsu slowly took to the side of the young human. "I suggest you hear the words of this one, guardians. For it is in your own favor." Zenatsu's heavily accented voice spoke from under his hood. Positioning himself directly between the guardsmen and the tribal elves, Zentsu's body stood proud, no sign of non-assurance within his own actions.

"It is unjustifiable to proclaim two passersby as heathens when indeed they have not acted in wrong. It is you whom is unjust. Your duty is to protect, they have done no wrong, you may watch for intent, but by no cause have you to assault" and thus so by his racial culture, he stands to defend the Tribal Elves. "Now I request of you to lay your arms down, unless you seek to have more trouble upon your hands than you intend for. do not cloud your mind of who belongs to which race, but to whom has done the wrong deed. That is your duty you swore to, not..." Zenatsu paused, thinking of the human word for which he wishes to say, yet has found himself unable to find it "to single out a single group of people."

In truth Zenatsu really hates being in his own center of attention, as the crowd gathers would, or not, listened to his words, and the guards, more likely than not, focusing on him due to Zenatsu pronouncing himself in front of them. However, Zenatsu's origins and natural reactions to given situations overpowered his selfish wants.

Ghaarme · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Ghaarme** on Thu Apr 22, 2010 8:01 pm

The swarthy audwai winced when he heard the emphasis that his unseen speaker put on the word elf, now thinking that racism may not just be limited to offenders...and then he stumbled forward a few steps in confusion, feeling something--or someone--bump into him. Airn risked a glance back and saw nothing but a crowd of people gathering, in truth it was no wonder he got moved. That's right, the young elf was totally oblivious to the fact that a tree of a woman with ivory skin stood behind him. He just didn't see it as abnormal, not given how he had been raised. The next comment drew a smile from the tribal elf though;

“I don’t want anything to do with your antics! Go home! I think I—” Burlen gawked at something in the crowd while Airn simply smirked. The elf found it more than amusing that someone a little more than half his own age spoke to him as if he were but an adolescent.

Before he could think of a biting retort though, a gruff voice broke the interlude.

“Those tribal fairies are filth. Waiting until the warriors are all gone and then attacking caravans like cowards. Hell there a few things I enjoy more than the surprised look of a Tribal-Filth, when he realises that there are guards with the merchant he was going to butcher. It’s only surpassed by the look those scum get, when I put my spear through their belly.” Airn had to physically stop himself from leaping at the weathered old man, resulting in a slight jerk forward. No notice was paid to the little scene that transpired between the elves in hiding, for this audwai was grinding his teeth and glaring daggers of hate at the newfound biggot. Airn had seen it too many times before, even experienced it in his younger days. A human pokes fun at the tribal elf, the elf attacks the offender, and that very same elf gets ganged up on. Right or wrong mattered very little to humankind--and most other races--when it came down to race versus race.

The next few seconds were a swift blurr of shouts and movement, the crowd clearing from the exchange and Airn finding himself between several parties. The strangers had drawn their weapons and stood shoulder to shoulder, a male voice kindly requesting some civility stood to his right. The old bastard and his biting words were straight ahead...and the guardsmen as well as some foppish noblemen of a man stood together at Airn's left. Burlen had just crossed the line.

“You are an Outlaw! And anyone else who dares to assist these two will be slain on sight! Airn, move or I won’t hesitate to kill you as well!” he actually said it. God, if Helva was alive she would have rapped that upstart human upside the head...the elf shook his head slightly, shaking away the thoughts of his late foster-mother.

You really think you could kill me, friend?" his voice was toneless and level as the audwai stared at the floor. "Ok then. I'll move."

In another moment the ranger had his bow drawn and an earthy looking arrow knocked. Right at the grizzled mercenary. If he couldn't be apart of the guardsmen's affairs, he'd make his own fun. One shot, two, then three turned to four. Airn aimed his shots near Eric's legs and lower torso, aiming to incapacitate the man or at least smah his groin in. The earthbound arrows had blunt tips, making for more of flying clubs in miniature than piercing projectiles. The audwai was already advancing on his chosen target, pointedly glancing at the humans nearby to see what they would do. It didn't matter. This time he would just run...Airn was sick of having to convince the humans of his worth...it was so tiring.

"Ya know what you grey-bearded sonnuva goblin? I am Audwai! And proof that we aren't all cowards." he was, charging right at the racist.

Irish Wolf · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Irish Wolf** on Thu Apr 22, 2010 11:34 pm

Eric was so caught up in his own smugness, after the way his words had gotten under the skin of one of the strangers, that he barely paid any attention to the arrival of some fop, who insulted the guards and someone else that appeared to be protecting the elves. A shame really, for that poor fool to be throwing his lot in with the pointy eared cowards and with them about to get set upon by the local militia. Ah well, the end of another pair of bandits and a bleeding heart, not much of his concern, unless those fine town guards tried to stop him from stabbing one of the trio, at least once.

In fact, he had been turning to help the militia menace the outlaws, when something struck his knee. As luck would have it, the arrow bounced right off the iron poleyn (not that being blunted didn’t have anything to do with it), one of a pair he wore, which had been decorated with the face of an older man and a set of metal horns each. Before the arrow hit the ground, three more came in. The second arrow stuck his thigh, hard and would surly leave a briuse. The third and forth arrow stuck his hip and gut. Both bounced off the mail shirt he wore and luckly struck over areas that had a second layer of protection, a thick shirt. A surpirsed grunt of pain escaped his lips, before a lungfull of iar from the gut shot.

A sharl of rage issued from deep in the older warrior’s chest, as he turned to face the now charging elf. Without a second thought, he made a mightly thrust with the spear and let out of the good oaken shaft, sending the weapon sailing towards the agressior. Course it wasn’t a throwing spear, the weapon was much to long (being taller then his own good six foot height) and too heavy to a proper throw. It wasn’t a move that he expected to kill or even hit the bastard but more of one to gain a little time, be forcing the elf to either change direction or swat the spear away.

What Eric really wanted to do, was to draw his sword and use it to chop the cocky young (well younger looking, one can’t be to presice with these faries) bugger in half. So he did. Well, he drew his sword at least. The blade was shorter then the newest longswords, great beasts used to cleave through horse and man but thicker. The sharpened edge was covered with scores of nicks, from where it it met the foe’s weapon in battle. Baring his teeth in an almost friendly smile, he raised the old and tested weapon up over his shoulder, ready to swing and waited for the elf to get a little closer.

Gekidami · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Gekidami** on Sat Apr 24, 2010 3:03 pm

Drake came crashing out of the tree line running for his life, once at a fair distance from the forest he slowed down and looked behind him; Good, he wasnt being followed. He sat in the grass panting and wiping away the sweat from his brow.

These tribal elves really werent cool, Drake had no beef with them yet they didnt seem to see much difference between human soldiers and human adventurers passing through their forest. Ofcourse its not like Drake didnt know there was some 'bad blood' between humans and tribal elves right now, he should probably have hired some help whilst he made a stop in his old home town of Runeswept but as always, Drake didnt think of the impending danger, after all he wasnt going to pick a fight with the elves, just ride peacefully through their land.

Drake got back up and looked around, he was in a clearing with a village just up ahead. This wasnt where he wanted to be, Drake set off for the mountains to the east after hearing word of treasure and demons hidden in the caves there but it looked as if he had accidently headed the wrong way as a result of being chased by the elves.

Oh well, he had lost his horse and supplies in the forest anyway, it was quite a stroke of luck to have ended up where he was.

Making his way to the village Drake crossed a sign; "Armsworth" it said. Yes, Drake had been here once before, he wasnt to far from the mountains but it would be a hard trek without a new horse and supplies. He continued till he had entered the village then stopped to search his pockets and pouches; Apart from his sword, shield, hookshot and an old map he didnt have much to go with.

But no matter! Finding the means to get along with little was all part of the adventure! ...Or so Drake tried to convince himself as he pushed through the dense crowd then paused to watch what they were all watching; Gah! More tribal elves, and it looked like they were being confronted by guards. Drake then noticed an Atavian standing with them, they were quite a common sight in Runeswept with a few living there. It was no surprise one would stand up for the two tribal elves being outnumbered, even if tribal elves had a rather 'sombre' reputation.

Then suddenly further down there was some sort of commotion, a big bearded man seemed to have thrown a spear but Drake couldnt quite see why.

Morbin · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Morbin** on Sun Apr 25, 2010 5:47 pm

Solomon Havelock was seated in the far corner of the bar known as the Muscle n’ Cleaver. He was alone, muddy and had a vacant look on his face, his stare directed at his empty mug. The former mercenary had come to Armsworth for reasons unknown, even to him. He had become fed up with his murderous and sinful lifestyle, and after a rather bloody and messy incident he had cut off ties with his old comrades and struck out on his own. With nothing more than blind rumours of evil stirring in the North, Solomon figured that he might as well take a look, he had nothing better to do, and he might even be able to do some good.

The journey was uneventful for the most part, he had run across a blockade of bandits who were preying on refugees and poorly defended merchants. As it turns out the leader of this group was an old comrade of Solomon’s and he was able to pass without incident. But aside from a few rotting corpses laid out on the side of the road and a few passing travellers Solomon found the trip forgettable.

When he did finally arrive at his destination, he found himself bored. Yes, some of the townsfolk were mysteriously disappearing. Yes, everyone was on edge and there was a feeling of doom and gloom hovering over the populace. But no, Solomon could not find anything to beat into the ground to soothe his tortured soul. He had made several trips into the surrounding wounds but he was a poor tracker, and he found nothing, a few odd tracks, some strange smells, but nothing substantial. The end result was a bored Solomon drinking alone in a bar.

Then, suddenly, violence.

The bearded old man, the guards and the elves had been bickering for awhile now, but Solomon had paid them no mind. At least until more than just harsh words started to fly about, mainly arrows and a spear, that was cause for concern.

It took Solomon a second to take stock of the situation; the bearded fellow was already wounded, clearly shot by the black elf twit. Some nobleman stood beside him, along with some winged fellow and all of which were apparently defending the two newcomer elves. So in short, there were the Guards and the old man, against a trio of elves, some nobleman, and the winged person. It occurred to Solomon that he didn’t have to intervene here, but if that elf was so easily prodded into violence he is clearly a threat to others. Harsh words in a bar are expected, turning an old man into a pincushion over such is unforgiveable, Solomon’s course of action was clear.

In a flurry of action Solomon rose to his feet and bolted towards the dark skinned Audwai. Despite this outward sign of hostility Solomon did not draw his sword, he didn’t want to kill this rook, just bloody him good and proper. The best way to go about this was to simply tackle the elf, elves didn’t grapple well, and Solomon had a lifetime of experience with killing elves, humans and all manner of creatures, both with his swords and his fists. So Solomon sprinted forward, the bar was not a large place, and he figured he could close the distance between him and elf before he could react. If he succeeded in his plan to tackle the elf, he would make short work of pummelling his face in with his gauntleted fists.

Keikeiya · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Keikeiya** on Mon Apr 26, 2010 11:40 pm

Chaos broke out on the main street of Armsworth, in what could best be described as a bar brawl with weapons. The residents of the small town kept a large distance, clinging to the edges of buildings to stay out of the way. Nathiria dropped her defensive stance and stood up straight, watching them begin to cheer and laugh. Neighboring guards broke out into a brawl with the other guards a few seconds after Airn made the first move. The she-elf looked to Vlade for an answer, but he was as just as confused as she was. It was then that the pair began to edge away quietly, ignoring those who had approached and put themselves between the Audwai and the human bullies.

"You know what I'm thinking, right?" The woman asked, turning to eye carefully the bags of personal belongings on the unconscious and cut-down.

"Hmph..." Vlade said nothing in reply, only crossing his arms. He had a different intention: to find the captives and leave the village to its chaos. If we all just left each other alone and paid no mind to anything, we could all live in ignorant bliss, and these pointless quarrels would be as good as gone.Leaving, the pale skinned man casually walked towards the warehouse. Paying no attention to the departing of her friend Nathiria restored her weapon to its rightful place on her back, then pulled out a much smaller knife hidden on her person and began to cut purses. Gold had its worth everywhere, even in the Audwai. Nathiria made no thief, that much was true, but it wasn't hard to take something from a person incapacitated or too busy to stop her.

On a small farm less than a mile on the outskirts of Armsworth, a young man took his last breath. Crimson colored droplets clung to the bottom of his lip, and a few fond memories flashed into his head before he passed into the beyond. These creatures stood as tall as a man, but had mouths lined with hundreds of sharp teeth, each with a dark malformed shape to both their body and face. Growls and unearthly shrieks and gurgles made their way up from the throat, a hair raising sound in itself.

In the living room of the tiny farm hold home, human like creatures tore their way through the earth to surface through the wood floor. Glass ware and other valuables were thrown and smashed in a mindless rage. Pouring from the large hole and hastily exiting the cottage, the monsters made their way to the fields of crops. They killed everything in their path, mostly live stock and a few horse here and there. Some stopped to fill their rotting mouths with new-found flesh, others running wildly in unintelligent pathways towards Armsworth where they could sense life.

A pounding song of screaming ran through their heads, driving them to do as it commanded. It was a mixture of desire to please this echoing sound in the back of their minds, and a desire to tear it from the inner most piece of (what could be considered) their brain to make it drown out in silence.

Gekidami · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Gekidami** on Tue Apr 27, 2010 12:31 am

Wow, it looked as if Drake really didnt arrive at a good moment.

The sight made the young adventurer raise a palm to his face as guards seemingly fought one another. 'Cant we all just get along?' Drake thought to himself as the some of the civilians -who had been trying to keep out of the way intill now- seemed to be joining in as people got pushed around from the guards fighting.

As Drake ran the hand down his face letting him once again see the riot he noticed one of the tribal elves from before rather calmly walk off, but not towards the town exit which seemed odd; You'd have thought that the elves would want to escape being outlaws... Drake couldnt see where the other tribal elf had got to, she was no doubt amongst the people fighting.

So the adventurer decided to follow, Drake began to push his way through the people. Despite getting shoved left and right he kept his eye on the tribal elf who seemed tobe heading towards to a big warehouse...

Orrin55 · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Orrin55** on Tue Apr 27, 2010 10:51 pm

More joined the argument, and eventually rose past the point, the dark skinned elf let loose a flurry of arrows before charging. Ashtan took a step back and reached behind strapping on his buckler, even as a spear grazed his shoulder followed by the old warrior. From the corner of his eyes, the scout also pinged another person charging into the fray, this needed to end now with minimum casualties. Ashtan grinned, he had the perfect thing for that and easily he slipped towards the left and judged the speed the combatants were approaching each other.

He gave them an extra second then shot his right hand forward, the cicular tattoo in his right hand flickering for an instant as He spoke the keyword, at the same time his left forearm tingled as the spell transfered and was brought into this world. "Shellshock." The small sphere of sound brought forth detonated into a wall of thunderous noise literally knocking down the weaker willed people and potentially stunning the stronger fellows. Ash merely hoped it was enough to stop the fighting and effectively end any desire for combat. If not, well the buckler would bring in the final arguement as to why to stop. Ash cracked his neck, Shellshock always did stiffen his neck afterwards.

Ghaarme · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Ghaarme** on Thu Apr 29, 2010 9:30 pm

"Hvrek!"

The young tribal elf snarled, one of the only elvish words he knew and a rather nasty one at that. Airn locked eyes with his opponent and continued to advance. The old fool had drawn his weapon, obviously wanting to gut Airn as badly as the elf wished the same of him...that was just all the more incentive to sling the bow and draw his knife. A razor edged kukri, the dagger would slice through leathers and slip inbetween the crevices of armor with ease. Only ten feet separated the human and elf when yet another man stepped inbetween the pair. The air shimmered for a moment before a small blast of force pushed Airn back a step, messing up his balance and causing the world to go silent for a moment. And in that moment, Ashtan succeeded in not only stopping the combatants for all of what, maybe a second at best, but pissing the hot-blooded tribal elf off even more.

"Oho, you ain't too smart friend..." he said in a menacingly low voice, eyes crimson points of unhidden anger directed towards both the offending humans. "You have three seconds to back the hells off before I make mince-meat out of you too."

Out of the corner of his eye, Airn caught another glimpse of the cloaked visitors...and nearly lost his ire. Nearly. The two were tribal elves, and although their diffences were stark, Airn felt a type of bond with them. Of course it was probably an imagined feeling of kinship since he had known no such thing while growing up in a prodominantly human settlement, but he couldn't help but feel like he had to help them somehow.

Oh! I got it! with a subtle shift of his foot and a bit of mana, a five inch tall rise of stone jutted up before the guards advancing on Vlade and Nathiria. It would trip up the unsuspecting and totally faceplant the oblivious men. Well now, I suppose i'm officially a criminal...

Airn grinned and shot Eric and Ash a baleful glare. Mum wouldn't have objected to his choices, seeing as how the old bat had gotten around to sampling a few Audwai in her time.The younger fighter dashed for Ashtan, crouched low with dagger raised high to parry.In the sliding stop near the shield wielding scout, Airn utilized the movement to create another magical manifestation of stone. The movement would seem totally ordinary, until a small spire of earth abruptly smashed into the back of Eric's skull. The bastard was lucky...Airn could've made it much sharper. In the meantime, the audwai ranger completed his slide near Ash and braced both hands on the ground before lashing his long legs out in a horizontal sweep. In another few seconds he was back up and smirking, just waiting. This was actually kinda fun.

Irish Wolf · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Irish Wolf** on Sun May 02, 2010 7:52 pm

Eric stumbled backwards from where he had been awaiting the plucky elven bastard, the sound of the living world blocked by a painful ringing that filled his mind. After a few steps, he halted, shaking the noise from his ears and glared at a young man that had dared to interrupt his fun. However, before he could shout for the fool to leave (oh alright, he had several nastier ways of say that planned), there was a sharp pain in the back of his head. Starbusts filled his eyes, as the warrior took a step forwards and turned around to see who had struck him. There wasn't anyone close enough to have done the deed but there was evidence of who had. A thin shaft of stone stood out in the open. It must have been the young fellow who had casted that stunning spell.

"Thrice damned witchcraft" muttered the older man, ignore the irony in his statement. He in fact owned a set of magical dice, complete with a pair of leather work dice cups. With e feral growl, he snatched the steel helm from where it had been hanging from his belt and placed the thing on his head, over the faded red cloth he wore to keep the long, brown hair out of his face. The leather interior was worn and shaped to the features of his skull, making a perfect fit.

"Bastard" shouted Eric, lifting his sword back over his shoulder and working himself into a fury. Several deep breath supplied his muscles with new oxygen, as they tightened for a spring. Just as the elf, who had been momentarily forgotten, came into view, striking low on the new comer, he lunged forwards. Down came the blade, sweeping in a curve, so that it should strike at the boy's waist or where the his waist should have been, depending on if the tribal filth hit true. Maybe, if the blow didn't land on the human, he'd catch the elf as he stood back up.

Monsters Among Men- Last Stand

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Monsters Among Men- Last Stand

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