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Nimba Hawteeya

"I walk softly- my steps scarcely impacting where I tread. My words are heedful, only laid out as required. Oh, and I carry this really big stick."

199 views · located in Vasquera

a character in “Deadman's March”, as played by The Adversary

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[Basic Information]

Theme: Giving In

Age: 28

Gender: Female

Build: Athletic; toned with some light visible musculature, particularly abs and biceps.

Height: 5'8''

Appearance: As the face is typically what you really see first on an individual, let's start there. Soft features belie an iron personality and a caustic wit. Her eyes are a vibrant hazel, which seem to fit nicely alongside her warmly tanned skin. Framing her face is a short mess of wavy white hair, both clashing and accenting her visage rather well. Her arms and stomach display a body of lean athleticism, kept in shape through rigorous training and a hectic lifestyle alongside her companion, Adrian. In the arid heat of the desert, Nimba keeps to wearing lightweight clothing that breathes well – aside from her partially leather top, that is. This includes her hood, skirt and leather gauntlets. Completing this ensemble is a pair of sturdy leather boots, and of course her staff. A long, heavy, gnarled length of carved wood, its surface sanded smooth- though it bears some obvious signs of wear. An enchanted leather mask hangs from her belt, it's purpose to filter and protect against aerial hazards, such as dust, sand and possibly even toxins or other noxious fumes.

Personality: Most importantly, know this of Nimba Hawteeya: she is a troublemaker at heart. She's not a malicious soul, she's just.. well, playful's not the right word. She has a sense of humor that usually ends up getting her into trouble- pair that with an endless and insatiable curiosity, and you've got one hell of a mess on your hands. As a child she was prone to playing pranks, even setting fires, around the various camps her Band would establish. Always the one to wander off into the woods and caves, sneaking around the townships and cities to play and explore. Other children native to these places would recall the mysterious friend they'd made once upon a time. The girl who appeared from time-to-time before eventually vanishing forever. In a way, this has not changed. Nimba's a wandering soul who hates the thought of being rooted to a single place for too long, and craves new sites and experiences with a passion. Her jokes are often dry, and her expression typically a cross between wry amusement and stern staidness, readily concealing much of her emotion from being so easily discerned by any onlookers.

Combat Style: Nimba is a mage at heart. Her real power lies in elemental magic, especially air and fire. She has been schooled in various other arts including: restoration, arcane, enchanting, charms and illusion. Her fighting style compliments Adrian's, offering aid in the form of healing, defense and trickery for the most part. There always seems to arise a case where she is required to use something a little more.. destructive. If forced into a physical confrontation, however, Nimba can still defend herself quite aptly, being proficient in hand-to-hand combat and the employment of her staff as a weapon.

Bio: Nimba is a Yi Aba, an ethnic pariah group dwelling in an immense diaspora-nation of a sort around and within the Abbedon Empire. Once, they held their own country: Abarra. The Abarrans were driven from their homeland by the invading Carthim of In Carta Hör, a much larger and more powerful state. Scattered and homeless, and hardly wanted anywhere they went, the people of Abarra, now known as Yi Aba, roam various lands in Bands. They are mostly self-sufficient, but do work as traveling merchants and musicians after a fashion in order to help sustain their various camps. It was in one of these Bands that Nimba Hawteeya was born. As a young girl she was overly curious, constantly getting into trouble and causing grief among the elders of her Band. There was even an instance where she started a fire out of curiosity, only to be totally surprised when it spread and ignited one of the Band's carriages. Nimba was placed under careful watch for some time after that. At the age of eighteen, she and her Band were camped near a small township in one of the Empire's provinces, smack dab in the middle of a deep, tangled forest. The mayor had enlisted the aid of a one Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof to remove them from his township's border. Upon entering the camp to warn the elders, Nimba spied the stranger and felt immediately called to him. He was a wanderer; going where he pleased and doing whatever he wished or needed to stay afloat. Thus, she went to the elders with a proposition: agree to leave, but in return he would have to take her along with him. This was a win-win solution, as she figured. The elders got to get rid of her, as she was sure they wanted to, and Adrian would fulfill his contract. To her surprise, it worked- and she set off with Adrian, leaving her roving home behind to see newer places in lands her migrant life with Yi Aba would never have led. Since then, the two have traveled across both Imperial lands and beyond, their journeying finally leading them to Gaudis to complete a contract.

So begins...

Nimba Hawteeya's Story

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Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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He couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't see. Couldn't touch or smell. Deprived of choice, all he could to was listen as the demons laughed at him and took mocking delight at his special little cage. All he could do was feel as the ice cold chains tore into his flesh. The only thing he could think of- the only thing that mattered in this bleak void- was that this was his own personal hell; to have his freedom forcibly stripped from him, leaving him little more than a puppet moving around on his strings for the amusement of his masters.

He despised this hell with every fiber of his being.

Amongst the imbecilic laughter of the damned beasts he heard another voice. It sounded like a little girl. Though he could barely hear it over the fiends' mirth what it conveyed was clear as day - the girl was crying. Sorrowful wails that made his heart sink deeper than it ever had. Were they torturing her, too?

Sudden flashes of his two sisters' faces jolted his body with righteous anger. Pure chilling cold rage that tightened its grip around his soul. With all his strength he pulled on his chains, uncaring as they ripped open his flesh, until...finally he broke free. Lashing out in fury that would frighten the gods he struck down the nearest laughing voice, tearing it apart. Again and again until all the idiotic laughter ceased.

They never once fought back, but he didn't care. For harming his sisters they deserved to die. They all deserved to die.

And then as if a switch flipped his vision returned...and he looked upon what he wrought in abject horror. All around him in macabre piles of flesh and bone and blood lay his sisters. Dozens upon dozens of copies of his sisters. Each brought down by his hand.

Sinking to his knees he cried out in anguish as his palm began to burn....

---


Adrian's eyes shot open. How strange. Adrian did not often dream and when he did they usually were much more pleasant. That or he didn't remember them at all. This one, however, was very vivid and most certainly not enjoyable. Ah, but that was life, wasn't it? One could never truly predict its workings, even when it was within your own mind.

With a shrug, Adrian filed the dream somewhere to the back of his mind for future analysis. Yawning and with a small stretch he looked around the covered wagon he and his fair companion have traveled in for the past three days. Sneaking into the wagon was laughably easy, the hard part - the boring part, at least to him - was the waiting. Switching wagons every now and again just because they could did little to slake his boredom.

"Fifteen minutes to civilization!" Someone outside the wagon shouted making Adrian smirk. Yeah, a dusty little desert town near the border of Shevasse. Some civilization! Of course, Adrian could just be biased. Was he? Possibly, but Adrian never denied his bias.

Glancing at Nimba as she sat by the tail of the of wagon peering out the closed canvas Adrian spoke in his native language, his voice dripping in sarcasm, "You heard the gentleman, my dear. Civilization! How splendid!"

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Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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"No, no.. that's not right." She ripped the page out of the book, crumpled it into a ball and tossed it out the back of the wagon. There was a sparse trail of parchment wads littering the desert, at this point. She'd been at it for hours, and still had not yet managed to get the image down the way she saw it in her head. There was nothing blurry or obscure about its shape or the contours across its surface, everything was pristine and clear in her mind's eye. As if some damned force on high deemed it so, whenever she dipped her pen in ink and took to sketching out the vision it would become marred. Every. Single Time. She dabbed the quill into the jar and tried to put it down, again. Her tongue was sticking out of the corner of her mouth in her concentration, but she didn't realize. Nothing changed. It seemed at first that things were going smoothly, when suddenly- "Unbrindi kiefa so'ja lapas!" Gritting her teeth, she tossed the quill down onto the wagon's floor and tore the newly ruined page out, hurling it mushed into a sloppy sphere out onto the sand. The book snapped shut and joined the quill, her face taking up residence behind her palms. It was unbearable aggravating, and she didn't know why it bothered her so.

It had all started with a dream she'd had two nights ago. She remembered nothing of it, not even one little glimmer of shred of emotion.. nothing except that symbol. When she'd first woken up it hadn't been something worth her attention, but that soon changed. The next day she'd had an itch in her fingers and an ache in her gut to put this thing on paper for some reason. It felt almost like it wouldn't be totally realized in some way if it was not. Which made no sense because nothing about it was even remotely incomplete whenever she looked back at it. There was just that nagging feeling...

"You heard the gentleman, my dear. Civilization! How splendid!" Her thoughts were shattered by Adrian's voice from behind, her head snapping up and neck twisting to look over her shoulder.

"Kloçi do f'ya tuf," Nimba grumbled irritably, rolling her eyes. "I didn't hear anything but you, and it's hard not to with how loud you are, wey'ho." She reached down to collect the book and quill, stopping a cork into the ink jar and putting her things in her bag hurriedly, not quite worrying about being orderly at the moment. Ordinarily she wouldn't have been so snappish, but this apparition was digging away at her nerves with a purpose. Collecting her thoughts and breathing deeply, Nimba said, "It'll be nice to finally stretch my legs. I swear my blood's been stagnant in my veins for the past few days." She sighed and rolled her neck around, several pops sounding. "I don't want to ride around in a wagon again for at least a month, after this."

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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Taking his charge's ire with grace and his trademark smirk, Adrian observed Nimba's slight tantrum with amusement. He knew very well she meant nothing of it - with the insults they've thrown at each other in the past this was nothing. He often wondered what people thought of the odd pair they made, and every so often his muse was satisfied by some good natured soul trying to intervene during some of their more...lively...interactions. Opposites attracted, equivalents clashed.

All good fun in Adrian's eyes.

Still, he deemed it necessary to comment. Switching back to the more common language of these parts and with mock anger, "I'll have you know I do not snore that loudly, little one." She hated that nickname, "Insult my superior sleeping skills again and you'll have plenty of time to stretch those legs as you walk the rest of the way to civilization." he drew the last word out in emphasis. No, he wouldn't let the “civilization” thing go.

His eyes stayed stern for a moment before finally he relented as a warm smile graced his lips. Sitting up and after popping his back Adrain maneuvered his way closer to Nimba. The Prince of the Pride knew her temper was not stoked in anger but in frustration. He wasn't the only one having dreams as of late it seemed and, well, he knew that when Nimba put her mind to something the gods themselves might as well fold their arms in defeat as there's no stopping her.

Wise enough not to bring it up, Adrian decided to help soothe her other main frustration. "We'll be free of this dastardly wagon soon, my dear." He smiled, his voice informal, kind and without any mild superiority laced in his usual tone - a feat only gifted to those for whom he cared deeply, "Soon we shall be free to stretch our legs and partake in the glories these lands can grant us. Why, I think we might even be able to catch the camel races!" With a good natured chuckle Adrian wrapped his arm around Nimba's shoulders and kissed her forehead.

They were a close pair, Nimba and he. Words were not always needed to lift a mood or change a spirit.

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Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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"I wasn't suggesting you snore, this sand pit can't possibly bear anything close to civilization, I'd rather get eaten by scorpions than watch camels race, and if you don't get your arm off of me within the next few seconds, wey'ho, I'm going to rip it off." She ducked out from under his reach and rolled backward, deeper into the confines of the wagon, coming to rest on her feet tucked into a crouch. She winked at him as he glanced over his shoulder at her before moving to take a seat on one of the benches, dusting her skirt off and picking her staff up from where it had been buried beneath piles of clutter for the past three days. The wood was thick and dark, and the whole length of the gnarled, knotted shaft boasted a fair bit of weight. She ran her fingers absentmindedly over some of the rougher patches, dents and cuts in the surface, a soft smile lighting up her face.

"It will be kind of nice to see something resembling a city, though. This damned caravan's even less room than usual, I feel even more cramped and cooped up - so much more than's typical." She kicked her feet up and leaned her head back against the canvas, her eyes shifting over to Adrian, smile turning steadily to a smirk. "I can't even imagine what it's been like for you. Nothing to do. Sitting still or laying down. The most exercise to get's just going to a different wagon. Nowhere to run, no women to hit on - 'cause if you tried making a move on me I'd burn you to a cinder. Sweet gods and spirits, it must've be real torture for you." She shrugged and rolled her shoulders around, trying to loosen her muscles. Nimba knew that pain, she'd been feeling it for the whole of those three days. Every inch of her body burned to move, she had so much energy stored up and wasting away. But, Adrian was an entirely different beast - he followed the same vein, but to a much deeper depth.

"Don't you just wish you had some roofs to run along, boka di'i?" She asked with a short, derisive laugh.

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Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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Adrian's only reply was a curt nod and smile. Nimba was absolutely right, he longed to be active. Longed to stretch his legs, move his body, assert his will. Adrian longed for motion. Doing nothing for any extended period of time was a sin in his eyes. A sin that he occasionally had to enact, but a sin all the same. Therefore at this very moment the wagon in which they traveled was the very embodiment of his scorn and he didn't like it, to say the least. "Nope, not one bit," he mumbled under his breath.

Locking eyes with his feisty compatriot Adrian proceeded to enact his (no doubt) witty comeback when..."Gaudis ho!" came the delightfully enthusiastic call from one of the caravan workhands outside. Well that was fast. Ether they lost track of time or the whole "fifteen minutes away" bit was grossly overestimated. Ether way, the Ghost of East Abbedon was highly pleased.

Minutes later the wagon stopped as the familiar sounds of life invaded his ears only to don the biggest grin Adrian had sported in a long while. Getting up and retrieving the harness that held his secondary pair of blades, Adrain looked back at Nimba, "And we're off. May the gods and Her Holiness see fit to make our lives interesting from this point on."

Adrian left the the wagon for the sun-lit world. And with that the restraints that fate latched onto him were thrown away: Adrian Ronaud des Màstoof wanted to play.

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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Nimba's feet crunched into the sand, her free hand pulling the lip of her hood a little lower over her eyes. They swept left-to-right, regarding Gaudis with a curiously bored stare. "I hate the desert," she grumbled, shaking her head. She noticed nearby wagons unloading. A caravan, but no supplies. Narrowing her eyes quizzically, she tore her attention away and settled it elsewhere. At least now they were free to move instead of being cramped up beneath those canvas cages. "Too dry. I like there to be moisture in the air. That, and sand gets everywhere," she shifted where she stood, adjusting her grip on her staff. "So, where are we supposed to be headed, exactly?" She asked, not looking at Adrian even as she addressed him, her lips twisted into a mild grimace.

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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Everything Nimba said went on deaf ear. The entire world seemed to fall away as his attention focused on the sight before him. Several individuals - obviously Deadmen - dragging an giant armored man by his chains. Adrian watched as the titan of a man struggled against his captures with obvious scorn. He watched as the titan fell to his knees in pain by the hand of some wizard that seemed to take delight in disgracing the poor soul. He watched as they drug a defeated man away. Adrian watched it all and it sent cold anger through his veins.

He did not know this armored man - did not know his deeds or origins or creed but Adrian understood painfully well the man's plight. Memories he longed to forget flooded his mind and for a moment the son of the Màstoofs saw himself with crystal clarity in this man's shoes. It wasn't just a dark fancy of his imagination, either. Oh no, Adrian knew such pain, such disgrace. The sight before him struck a nerve so raw that the sleeping beast within Adrian's soul roared in piercing fury.

Clenching his marked hand into a fist, Adrain marched off to intercept this disgusting procession, his secondary harness already in place. Why was he bothering with this? That was brutally simple. The way these Deadmen treated the armored giant was such an affront to his beliefs and morals that they might as well have killed his sisters.

To any who looked upon Adrian as he approached would see nothing of his inner rage, only a man who gave an air of detached regality. Adrian had plenty of experience masking his emotions. Walking within comfortable speaking range of the group, "Excuse me, gentlemen." His voice betrayed nothing but his usual bravado, "We seem to be having a problem."

Many in the party stopped in minor shock, seemingly surprised someone slipped into their presence without them knowing. Adrian almost let out a laugh. If he could simply stroll into their midsts without them noticing then the DMD's reputation surely needed to be evaluated. Not that he took much stock in their supposed legacy considering what lay before him.

A man holding one of the armored titan's chains spoke up, "Leave now, official Deadmen business." This one seemed like no more then hired muscle. Adrian supposed simple brutes were common with every group or faction. The man sneered at Adrain and added, "Unless you're here to join."

Adrian simply smiled bitterly and bowed his head, "If I should fall leave me in my grave. I'd rather die a free man than 'live' a slave." It was a quote from book Adrian read when he was young, and it described his thoughts on the mans question to a T.

Brushing past them all Adrian stood comfortably close to the armored giant, much to the shock and unease of the titan's jailers. Adrian felt at ease around this obviously dangerous man - for more than the obvious reasons. He didn't know why but felt like he personally knew this giant.

What if this man was a killer beast intent on ripping Adrian in half the moment he had the chance? What if these men where completely justified in chaining him down? Adrian might have very well signed his own doom. Eh, no matter. Freedom was choice and Adrian chose his actions. Patting his hand on the titan's shoulder with uncaring ease, Adrian spoke as if he was talking to an old acquaintance, "Take heed, my friend. For you are not alone."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya Character Portrait: Ransu Svar

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Nimba heaved an exasperated sigh, snatching up Adrian's cloak and chasing after him as he went after the giant.. thing with the humongous sword strapped to its back. All she could help thinking was: this monster's obviously chained up for a reason, you high-born fool! She didn't say that, though. Nimba knew all too well Adrian's.. history regarding enslavement, so it had to have struck a chord with him deep down inside. For a few moments she just watched the scene unfold as he conversed with the Deadmen. It wasn't until the wizard spoke that Nimba bristled and barked, "And how exactly do you know that, rada im'a ba dho, ya?" Her head cocked to the side, eyebrow raised and a mocking smirk on her lips- half a snarl, half a grin, her teeth gritted and eyes shimmering with a giddy glint. She didn't like this old bastard. There was an air of.. fool about him. He seemed the kind of man who dwelt his days in books, but never stepped out to know things for himself. "Hanya nee ta'go, ku," she turned her head and spat into the sand before turning her nose up at him. A curse, swear and insult rolled into one- and an old Yi Aba proverb, they were a funny people that way.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya Character Portrait: Ransu Svar

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#, as written by Wake
Darkus turned to the girl, a look of disgust on his face. "Don't presume to talk to me about my subordinates, foreigner." He brought his hands up, making a 'shooing' motion with them. "Get gone, the lot of you. I have business to take care of, and you are trying my patience." He snapped his fingers at the keepers of the giant, and motioned them to bring him inside.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya Character Portrait: Ransu Svar

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Nimba's fist tightened around Adrian's cloak, still balled up in her hand. She'd half a mind to blast his ass with a column of sand. Wouldn't be too difficult, a simple conjuration- magic through the sand like snakes slithering through undergrowth, gathering the grains together and launching a punching blow right into the old bugger's chest. Like a sock to the gut, but ten times harder. She breathed through her gritted teeth, hazel eyes narrowing furiously, and fought to calm herself. She had a bad habit of letting her emotions get out of control- specifically her vindictiveness. She didn't like getting pushed around, and come to think of it had never really met anybody who did. Rather than saying another word and just fueling the man's flame, she swallowed her spite and resigned to sending another curse his way, "Jiba zan nifu se'hi o' rûd!"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya Character Portrait: Ransu Svar

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Adrian smiled. In his own way the armored soul graced him with acknowledgment and that pleased Adrian greatly. He did not feel threatened by the titan in the least. Oh, Adrian did not dismiss the threats around him. Certainly not, his senses simply told him that if there was any threat to Adrian's well being it was the men around him, not the titan. Indeed, from the show that was going on around him Adrian felt nothing but scorn for the Deadmen in his presence and rightfully so.

Ignoring the rabble about him, Adrian brought the giant's attention back to him by elegantly spreading his arms, fingers splayed and palms out - the sign that he meant no harm. Ever polite and with the tone one gives to a comrade, "My friend, I mean you no harm." With a slight nod of his head, "I am Adrian. If I might ask, dear man, what is your name?"

Almost instantly, "The beast has no name! Its just a animal, the Mad Cur!" Came the response from the the childish dullard Adrian had been doing his best trying to ignore. Closing his eyes and asking through gritted teeth, "You don't know his name? Have you ever asked?" Seething, switching to his native language, "Ignorant pack of whelps, not worth the seed that conceived the lot of you!"

Reining in his anger and switching back to the language of these lands, "Surely he has a name," Adrian was trying his damnedest to remain civil. "Surely?!" Sighing, Adrian looked up at the titan and patted his chest. "I feel for you my friend, surrounded by ignoramuses as you are."

"Any name will do." Adrian mused for a bit, "Hell, how about Randy?" He didn't know where the name came from but for some reason it seemed to fit. Certainly it was better than what the worm-food around him was calling him.

The setting changes from vasquera to Shevasse

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Eolan Kalris Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya Character Portrait: Ransu Svar

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#, as written by Mosinau
Eolan had been paying little attention to the scene in front of him from where he sat on the back of the wagon, in the shade of its cover. However, he looked up suddenly from his reading at the sound of a vaguely familiar form of speech. The dialect itself was unknown to him, but might it be...?
He regarded the young woman with a cool stare. "You are Abarran?" he asked, interrupting the altercation between her and Darkus as if wholly unaware of what was taking place.

The setting changes from shevasse to Vasquera

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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The giant man stopped and stood like a mountain, staring down upon Adrian. All seemed to be silent save for the noises of the small city just beyond the walls, all eyes on him and the titan. The only gaze that mattered to Adrian at the moment however was that of the armored soul before him. The big man looked down at him with what seemed like intense curiosity, as if trying to answer an important question by simply looking at Adrian hard enough.

As the titan eventually let his keepers take him away (much to Adrian's ire) the juggernaut gave the Prince a curt nod. And like that an understanding between them was formed, an understanding that Adrian planned on exploring to a greater degree. To himself, "Randy it is than." Adrian smirked, it seemed like he'd garnered more reaction out of the titan than anyone here had yet.

Watching the big man recede into darkness with some agitation, but unwilling to cause more of a scene (at least at the moment) whilst a job was at hand, Adrian focused his attention on the Deadmen caravan only to find, to little surprise, that all eyes were on him. Collecting himself, Adrian strolled over to those who seemed to hold the most importance, Nimba close behind and waving his cloak toward him irritably in a silent, “Take your damned thing, wey'ho!”

Once at a respectful distance – and newly cloaked – he bowed his head, ever the gentleman, only to be greeted by the imbecilic wizard, "You're an Abbeni, I can tell." The fool hissed in scorn. Abbeni was the dominant ethnicity within Abbedon and was often used as way of an slur by those who held an dim view on the Empire. "Damn Imperials. Scum, the lot of you! Always interfering where you don't belong!" And with that the fool spit on Adrian's boots. Adrian stared at the man for a long while, not saying a single word or lifting a single finger. No emotion visible on his person.

Taking a step forward, Adrian simply smiled and turned his head to the fair woman who called out to him before. With a bow, "To answer your previous query, I do indeed have business with you. I trust milady is a more civilized individual than the lot around you? I tire of the rabble, as you might understand."

Nimba mumbled, “Oh, yeah. Good way to get them on your side.”

Adrian only smirked.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Randle Ludak Character Portrait: Eolan Kalris Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya Character Portrait: Ransu Svar

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Nimba's attention was pulled away by another voice. This man looked be a wizard himself, after a fashion, but.. something about him seemed far less bigoted and belligerent. She turned to face him directly, her head shifting to the side a little in a quizzical examination of him. "Yi Aba, yeah. I don't think anyone's called us 'Abarran' since the Carthim dissolved Abarra," she said with a hoarse chuckle, the raging buffoon nearby slipping from her mind. "Didn't really expect anyone to my notice ethnicity this far from Abbedon, especially not by our old name," she admitted with a shrug. Before he could reply, her attention was pulled back to Adrian and the Deadmen. She nodded to the wizard and chased after her comrade waving his cloak at him. He finally took it off her hand, and she stood a few feet behind him silently, until he tried - at least - to make friends with the soldiers. She scoffed at his attempt, rolling her eyes incredulously. This was going nowhere fast, and she was losing interest, at least up until one of the Deadmen addressed her directly. Her head snapped around, eyes fastening coldly onto the girl. "She must think I'm a proper idiot who goes around starting fights," she said, but speaking to Adrian and not the soldier. "I don't throw the first punch," this to the girl, "But your friend the old fool there seems like the kind who might," she snickered.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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Adrian sighed and looked at his partner with an expression that clearly read, “Quiet!” His mood was fast deteriorating, if things didn't shape up soon he had half a mind to walk away. Closing his eyes for a moment before speaking in an ever polite tone. "Weapons are tools to be used. They do not act by themselves, do not think or feel. All three can not be said for you. You're a woman, not an object." Adrian smiled. The fool attempted to speak but Adrian cut him off, "Therefore, considering you are indeed an person, we can make business."

Removing the necklace and presenting it to them all, "I've come to deliver this and offer any assistance I," he pointed to Nimba, "and she can offer." And with a shrug, "As long as we get paid, that is."

The old wizard stared at necklace for a bit, bellowed a curse filled claim of ownership and than took to grab it from Adrian's hands...only to completely miss his target as Adrian in a blur of speed sidestepped the fool. Losing his footing the wizard fell to the ground only to garner a small laugh from Nimba.

His cooler nerves beginning to take over Adrain simply smiled and offered an hand to the wizard, only to have it bashed away, "You filthy little street rat, you will give me that necklace now!"

The Ghost of East Abbedon grinned wolfishly, "You'll forgive me if I do no such thing. You see I was promised more than two thousand gold to deliver this little pendent. Two thousand is quite allot of money - would need a crate or two to carry all that. And, well..." He looked around in mock curiosity, "I see no such crates, do you?"

Placing the necklace back around his neck, Adrian clasped his hands behind his back in a commanding posture. Words were just as much a weapon to Adrian as blades and he wielded them well. In a duel of wits the old fool was clearly losing. That was apparent in the way he blustered out a tangles mess of words.

Looking back at the fair woman, "Consider this necklace my insurance plan until I receive what is owed to me. Until than we're at your service, my lady. Within reason." He bowed and gave a charming grin.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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The fair woman's words were so ironic that Adrian almost laughed. Did she truly value herself so little? Such a pity. Adrian was the first one to admit that he's no fan of the DMD, but even he knew what this woman was saying was so very wrong. Sighing internally, Adrian decided to meet her on the more practical matters of it all, "Why, it's very simple: In a warrior's work without action or thought one would surely fall and without feeling your comrades will fall as well." Adrain nodded to the woman before him, "The very fact that you can say such thing, feel such thing, means you are far more than just an object. Do not belittle yourself into thinking your existence means nothing."

Looking up into the cloudless sky Adrian mused for a bit. Adrian hated the worldview which this woman held and he'd at least try to fix what he saw as a grave problem. He wasn't idealistic enough to assume he'd succeed and he certainly wouldn't push the issue further than he had unless asked. Still, one could never say Adrain didn't try. Looking back at the fair woman, "I pray my words sink in, my dear." And he would, if only in passing.

Turning to the now standing old fool, Adrian smiled and switched to his native tongue, "You are an ignorant, decrepit piece of scum who doesn't even deserve the hellfire of Kras's realm. In another time and place I would have killed you where you stand, so consider yourself lucky you piece of trash." Adrian's tone was polite and friendly, anyone who didn't speak Imperial Common would have no idea his words held ill intent. And judging by the fool's confused and angry stare he comprehended nothing.

Patting the old wizard on the shoulder - much to the fool's disgust - Adrian turned and proceeded to leave, Nimba close behind with a contented smirk on her face. Pausing for a brief moment, Adrian spun back around on his heel and took an elegant bow, "As yes I almost forgot: I am Adrian Ronuad," they had yet to earn the honor of being given his family name, "and this is Nimba," he nodded his head in her direction, "A pleasure, I'm sure."

And with that settled, Adrian walked away. Intent on exploring the facets of what people around here considered "civilization". Who knows, he might just find a bar...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trista Anerwyn Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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"Well, that went off with a hitch now, didn't it?" Nima remarked, keeping in stride with Adrian as they left the Deadmen behind. She spared a final glance over her shoulder at the female soldier her comrade had seemed to take an interest in - then again, what woman did he not seem to be fascinated by? "Now you've gotten us stuck here in this daya lo'wi sand farming hovel. Remind me to thank you later with a swift smack to your head, aye?" She mimed striking him with the aft end of her staff, shaking her head in exasperation. Although, as prideful as she was she could not blame him even in the slightest for what he'd done - especially when gold was on the line. She didn't like the idea of leaving without their pay any more than he did. Probably even less, considering their respective backgrounds. That was not a reprieve from her complaining, however. Nimba looked for any and every reason to chew him out, even if she had to make something up or cause an issue herself just so she could pin it on the poor bastard. What else was she to do with her time? Work? That was only when Adrian really got himself into trouble. Until he needed his ass bailed out, she wouldn't bother even batting an eyelash. Because that's what partners were for, right?

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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Walking through town, letting the sights (as much as there was to see in this sandpit, anyway), sounds and smells wash themselves across his senses, Adrian felt an urge in the back of his mind to start running. It wasn't out of fear or the like. Certainly not, the famed wanderer simply had the itch to move - to let his body take him where it may, to traverse the architecture of the city as easily as one would walk across a road. The itch demanded that and much more.

And he squelched the thought. As much as his body wanted to Adrian was not in the mood to properly enjoy it. All he wanted to do was get out of the sun and rest for a spell. Chuckling at Nimba's words, "I'll be sure to schedule in my pending physical assault into the 'to do' list, Nimba. I swear on my honor." Adrian gave a half-smirk to his charge, playing his part in the long game only they seemed to know the rules to. Many wondered why he kept her around if all they seemed to do was throw sarcastic retorts at one another. Why? Because it was amusing, of course!

Patting his minx of a partner on the shoulder and pointing to the building now directly in front of them, "Care for a drink to wash away the sands and heat?" It was a rhetorical question, he knew very well she did.

Nimba smiled sweetly, though there remained a poisonous curve to her lips as she said, "Ale," and nothing else, leaving the implication he knew all too well hanging in the air.

In mock shock he echoed, "Ale?!" And with a grin that held as much hidden meaning as her own, he walked into the door.

Looking around the bar, one would find that it was homely. It wouldn't be winning awards anytime soon but it looked comfortable. Seemed as if a bunch of chaps were getting rowdy but one didn't walk into a bar like this and expect quiet and mannered folk. Walking up to the counter Adrian donned his trademark grin, "Excuse me, my sweet." The lovely barmaid turned to greet him, trying (and failing) to discretely look Adrian up and down.

"What can I do for you, handsome?" Putting on his charms, with with a small amount of flair Adrian folded one arm to his back and took an elegant bow, folding the other arm to his front as he did, only to garner a giggle from lovely woman.

Standing back up, "I would like a glass of ale and a glass of wine, if a beauty such as yourself might be so kind. And a room for the night, if you would." A charming smile graced his lips.

The woman's only response was a meek nod, her features flushed crimson. Trying to hide her giggles as she went about to prepare his drinks. Pleased with himself Adrain glanced to his left only to spy two striking beauties. He took particular interest in the one bearing two swords, their was fire - a ferocity - to her that intrigued him. He could tell by her very presence that she was a powerful warrior. Same for with the other woman, but not quite the same vein. A splendid sight to see!

The barmaid came back to him with his drink and room key, "The drinks are on the house, darling," she said with a wink.

Bowing his head, Adrian replied "Your kindness moves me, my lady." Blushing again, the fair maiden discussed the room price with him and after paying what was owed - with a little extra gold thrown in for the drinks(Adrian, by principle, always paid what he owed in full) Adrian turned away from the counter.

Smirking at Nimba as he handed her her drink, Adrian glanced back to the two warrior beauties at the counter. He entertained the idea of taking a crack at them but decided to pass. Much to the shock of anyone who might know him, he mused. People would say it wasn't the "Adrian thing to do". Well, Adrian knew very well what the Adrian thing to do was and right now that involved sitting down and drinking his wine.

Settling down at one of the back tables, situated so that he could see the entirety of the room, Adrian propped his legs up on the the table, leaned the chair back against the wall and took a long sip of his wine. He watched as the loud, arguing men grew even louder. Only half-listening, Adrian heard some mention of “honor”, something about money and even a matter concerning one man's sister. Moments later a brawl had begun, with one of the belligerents finding himself laid out somewhere near the bar.

Oh look – Adrian mused – a bar fight. Splendid, some entertainment.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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Nimba fell without an ounce of grace into a chair, leaning back and tipping up the flagon to quaff a healthy mouthful of the draught. After wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand, she nodded over to the two women she'd seen Adrian ogling. "You know, I'm surprised you didn't try something on them. Usually you make like a bee to honey if it means warm company for the night so that you can fill that sad, empty hole of a heart you've got there," she said, pointing at his chest. Her eyes flickered briefly to the fight, and then rolled skyward in their sockets. "If I find out you've been bought by some street-side salvation vendor, I'll have to reeducate you myself. It honestly frightens me a little when you don't go chasing every winsome gi-" She was cut off when one of the fighting men was shoved into her chair. She lurched forward, her drink sloshing in the flagon, and a decent portion of it splashed out onto the floor.

Nimba calmly set her ale down on the table and nodded politely to Adrian in a silent, "Excuse me, a moment." Grabbing up her staff she surged to her feet and thwacked a man on the back of the head. He crashed face-first into the floor. Bewildered, one of the other belligerents stared at her in wide-eyed slack-jawed shock just before the aft of her rod slammed hard into his gut. She whirled it in an upward arc, bringing it down onto his back and driving him to his knees. Of the three remaining, one charged her. Nimba deftly ducked out of the way, tripping him and swinging the staff high. It collided with the side of another man's head, putting him into the wall. As he slumped to a heap, she turned her eyes to the last standing brawler. Pale faced and looking like he was ready to wet himself, he edged around the room and made for the door at a sprint. Straightening out her hood, Nimba nodded to the girl behind the bar, "Apologies for the mess, cupcake." The girl nodded numbly, and Nimba sat back down, taking a calm sip of her ale. Catching Adrian's expression, she defensively exclaimed, "I know you paid for the rotten flagon, but it's still my damned drink!"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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#, as written by Zentose

Alexa Morrow


Alexa felt uneasy with the way their conversation was moving... it moved into the territory where Alexa would have to divulge her own baggage, and she really didn't want to. She wanted to continue talking, but she also wanted to get as drunk as possible before passing out upstairs. She was ready to say something when a brawl broke out in the Inn. She didn't hear the beginning of the argument, but contenders were brutish men, nothing worth getting involved in. If there was a weaker party that needn't be injured, that's when Alexa would've gone in with her stiletto drawn and ready to maim(not kill). She was about to speak again when a girl knocked both men down. She was intriguing in her own right, she had a mischievous aura about her, one that Alexa didn't trust in the slightest. Peeling her eyes away from the girl, they moved to Kryssis for less than a second before going back to her empty flagon. Elise, without saying a word, dropped another flagon in front of Alexa before moving to the floor to clean up the mess. She immediately grabbed it and took a drink before saying, "Thank the gods," she sighed before looking back to Kryssis, "The best thing I've found to alleviate fear is getting as drunk as possible... Drink until the fear goes away, until the pain goes away, until you can't feel anything... Either get drunk or find someone to talk to about it... both are equally effective," she took another drink while she thought about Zoya, her only real friend, her substitute alcohol, "Not saying that I should be that person, but you need to find someone. A lover, a friend, something..."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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Kryssis caught what Alexa said, but was more intently focused on the fight going on behind them. As it drew to an end, she turned her attention back to the girl sitting at her side and frowned in a cautious manner, "I don't think I would be comfortable with.. a lover," she said awkwardly. She'd never given that kind of thing much thought. Ever. It was always pushed so far down underneath.. well.. surviving. Considering it quietly for several moments, she said, "A friend, however..." her words hung in space, drifting lazily as she tried to find the right phrasing, the right course of thought, "Could be useful, perhaps." She sounded on edge; uneasy.

The uncomfortableness became too much, and she got to her feet - sparing one last glance at Alexa - and walked across the room, stepping over the unconscious bodies of the men the white-haired girl had beat into submission, and stopped in front of their table. She analyzed the two seated there with their drinks, appraising them shortly. Finally, to the girl she said, "Impressive," and then eyed the man she'd come in with. "You were staring at she-," Kryssis jerked her head back toward Alexa, "-and I as you entered. I do not appreciate being watched like that." He had a lithe, athletic build to him. By his dress, weapons and body she could easily tell he was a fighter. One built for speed. A harrier of sorts. The corner of her mouth quirked up into a half-smirk, "If you are going to stare at me, the least you could do is give me your name. Otherwise I will be left so assume to mean me ill. In which case, such intent will be returned."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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Well...he did say he wanted entertainment. Nimba's little rampage was definitely entertaining, to say the least. As the woefully one-sided fight went on, an amused grin grew ever wider upon Adrian's visage. But it was Nimba's comment as she sat back down that truly got to him, and he laughed. A long and hardy laugh. The entire incident had been utterly amusing to him. Oh, and he needed to laugh, too. It felt like his frayed nerves soothed over in those few moments of mirth. Grinning wide at Nimba, "You went soft on them, remember the last time someone made you spill your drink?" Chuckling, Adrain moved his legs to an more comfortable resting position and took another long sip of his wine.

His eyes locked on to the fiery amazonian warrior as she approached, a smile on his face as her eyes appraised he and Nimba. Chuckling at her comment, "Was I staring? How rude of me, I did not intend my observation to be so obvious." He kept his eyes locked on hers, but evaluated more thoroughly in return out of the corner of his eyes. What he saw only confirmed what he thought before: this woman was a warrior built to cut a bloody swath through her foes. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't evaluating her softer features, as well.

Putting his feet on the floor and placing his glass on the table, "I do apologize if I offended. I was simply observing you as you observe me now. Well, " he shrugged with a smirk, "It is true that my intent was likely different than yours. I will not deny." Adrian guessed that this woman respected honesty, and why would he have any reason to lie?

Grinning, "And as for my name? You may call me Adrian." He pointed to his charge, "And this is Nimba. A pleasure." And with that Adrian nodded his head respectfully. It was obvious this woman wouldn't be swayed by a mere flattering word and a charming smile. He expected her to be a tough nut to crack and, well, Adrian enjoyed a challenge.

Taking a sip of his wine, "I sense that you enjoy the thrill of a spar. Tell me, does that extend to words? How does a clash of wits sound to you?" He was blunt and direct, but remained courteous, "In good nature, of course. We intend no ill unless provoked." This said in a sterner tone than usual. The message was clear: Respect my space, and I'll respect yours.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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Kryssis folded her arms across her chest, her head leaning to the left and hair spilling across her shoulder and backs like an inky wave of water flowing over dark sand. One green eye unveiled, the other curtained over by her hair, she darted the single sphere over him in a quick and eclectic analysis. "I prefer fighting with my hands, not my tongue," she hissed, and then smirked wickedly. There was an almost evil gleam in her eyes. The emerald green darkened over, withering under a cancerous cloud. "However, you seem to be.. easy prey in that regard," she began, drawing a chair to the table and seating herself, the sheathes of her sabres clattering against the wooden legs. She propped her own feet up exactly where Adrian's had been mere moments ago, almost in a gesture of claiming his territory. "Pity can be an interesting motivation to appease someone's needs. Not all of them, obviously." There wasn't an ounce of humor to her words, but the meaning and the joke were apparent enough. Her face was a slate, devoid of any emotion- eyes glassed over and steeled on her target the way an animal would watch its prey for any signs to strike. "To put it most aptly: I am not expecting very much of a challenge. I am only here because I feel you'd be upset were I to turn you down, is that right?" There was nothing in her tone to say she was necessarily jeering, there wasn't any need for emotion to hammer in the nails. The words alone would do the work. Of any possible signs of derision, the only one was the snort she gave at the end of her speech.

The white-haired girl - Nimba - scoffed, her boisterous chuckling threatening to make her spill her drink. Setting it down carefully, she wiped at her eyes and said, "I think you've very well just made his day, koa bid'n mo."

The entire time, Kryssis had been keeping an eye on Alexa out of her peripherals, watching to see what the girl would do. Would she linger and drink herself to a stupor, or make her way elsewhere? Curious, but not intrusively so, Kryssis resigned herself to a state of impartiality regarding what the girl did next. She'd made an offer of sorts before leaving her company, and now it was just up to her whether or not she wished to accept.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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#, as written by Zentose

Alexa Morrow


Although her request wasn't much like a request, more like a mechanical statement of facts(mixed with a healthy amount of unease), Alexa still pondered the idea for awhile, even after Kryssis walked off. She took another large drink, thinking back on Zoya. Zoya was her only true friend, she had a few coalitions with people back in Almraven, but that usually degraded into a sex for food business, and when it didn't, they simply stole everything Alexa had and left her starving in a ditch, with a few extra bruises and broken bones. She had a few friends before she killed her mother, but most abandoned her after her father died and her mother was able to treat her even worse. Those weren't true friends though, they left her in her time of need, they were passersby, this Kryssis though... before any interaction she went out of her way to save Alexa's life... it's what she really wanted in a friend. It was what she had done for Zoya, saved her life and eventually befriended her... This Kryssis though... the way she said Alexa would be... "useful" was not very friendly, it made Alexa seem as if she would be her tool, not that Alexa particularly objected, as she was used to being used by people, what's one more person that gave a more fitting reward than coin? Of course, her track record with those rewarding in non-monetary values wasn't great, Zoya left a bigger hole in her soul than was left by Alistair and Alistair... well... Alistair just got lonely when he drank.

Alexa turned around in her chair and watched Kryssis walk away, her eyes drifting a bit too low. Once she sat down Alexa moved her eyes up and looked at her face as she spoke, making out what they were saying, even though they were too far to hear(she could read lips). Despite the implications of what Kryssis had said, Alexa was fine with it, she was perfectly fine with being useful to her, if not a way to be close to her for longer, than a way to repay her debt, she would use whatever argument with herself that fit at any situation. She took another large drink from her flagon and watched the scene unfolding between her new... friend... of sorts... and the two other strangers.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alexa Morrow Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya

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Adrian just sat there, fingers laced in front of him, his eyes remained locked with hers. The only expression on his face a subtle grin as he watched her sit down and say her piece. Her opening remark. The opening remark of any discussion like this set the mood and tone for what's to come. Oh, and where where this was going would be quite entertaining. The warrior beauty was a cold and stern debater. Stubborn. He could easily tell. He mused that she made a mistake in underestimating her prey before the engagement truly began. He mused also that she had done no such thing. It didn't really matter, in the end. The fun was in the challenge. The debate.

The duel.

Oh, Adrian would enjoy this.

He simply sat there, watching the woman as she watched him. Only the ever present smirk to mar his blank expression. Oh, that's not to say emotion wasn't present upon his features - any who looked upon him could easily tell he was a man that was enjoying himself. But in that lay the wall, for now he was as unreadable as his opponent before him - perhaps more, perhaps less. Didn't matter. Barely moving other than to speak, "You are Sidheghul, yes? An old man tells me your tribe was wiped out short while ago. He even told me how but that's not relevant." He simply blinked, "What's relevant is you're here. Meaning if what he says is true, and I'm inclined to believe it is, then you're the last of your kind. Is that right?" His voice was steady, monotone - a tone of amusement and apparent boredom rolled into one. The only deviation was the small snort issued at the end of his words, mimicking her almost exactly.

"Oh how rude of me, I neglected to answer your previous question," a slight cock of his head his only movement, "To put it most aptly:" his words a mirror of her own, "Not particularly. I find you an interesting curiosity. A challenge to overcome, little more. " Once again he simply blinked, "To revoke my offer merely means I would have to find another." He smiled at her and patted her leg before returning to his previous position.

Before the beauty could speak, the doors of the inn slammed open and seven thugs wielding knives and machetes entering. The man who ran away during Nimba's little brawl close behind. The coward pointed at their table, "That's the bitch, Kenny. She's the one who knocked out Jake and the boys."

“Kenny” moved to the front the pack, eyes trained directly on Nimba, "That were moi brother ya knocked ou', ya whore. Yer gonna pay." Kenny obviously wasn't too bright.

Sighing in disgust, Adrian slowly took a sip of his wine before standing, "Pardon me for a moment, ladies."

Walking into the middle of the room as if nothing at all was the matter, Adrian surveyed his surroundings. There weren't that many people in the bar to begin with, most on the other side of the room with several being ushered out the back way by one of the bar-hands. Good. Adrian didn't like fighting indoors but there was plenty of room to maneuver in here so he'd make do. Smiling at the apparent leader, "Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

Kenny spit in Adrian's direction, "Step 'side, Imperial. That bitch is ours." The man looked back at his assembled thugs, "Roit, boys?' And with that an assortment of cursed laden cheers and threats came from the "boys”.

"I'm afraid I can't let that happen, gentlemen. It would be beneficial to all involved if you would kindly walk out that door and go on with your day." Adrian proclaimed with a small nod of his head, remaining civil.

Slowly a realization dawned in the gang leader's eyes, "Woit, Oi know ya. Yeah, yer that Adrian fella. The Prince o' Ghosts or sum'n." Adrian almost laughed at the gross misuse of his title, "You have a bounty on yer head, boy."

Adrian smirked and crossed his arms, "I have several bounties on my head, dear man. Mind being more specific?" He chuckled, Kenny scowled.

"Once Oi'm done wif you, me and moi boys are gonna take yer lady friends over there and have some noice play time." And with that all civility in Adrian ceased. Adrian was a protective individual, to inflict serious harm or misery upon those he cared was a prime way to garner his wrath. They had already crossed the line the moment they threatened Nimba, this was simply the final nail in coffin. No harm would befall his charge, much less the other woman, as long as he was able-breathed.

As Kenny began to chat with his boys about his pending victory, Adrian began to sway side to side softly, his eyes dilating as the world began to slow down around him. At once Kenny swung his cleaver at Adrian's neck only for the blade cut through thin air as Adrian sidestepped, grabbed the man's arm and yanked down, breaking with a sickening crunch! of bone. Before the dog could even scream, Adrian grabbed his head and slammed it against his knee.

Their leader knocked out in seconds, the other thugs barely had time to register what happened before Adrian was on them. Kicking in a man's knee before turning to punch another man in the gut before boxing his ears, leaving the poor man in a fetal position and clutching at his ears.

Finally coming to their senses, one of the men took to stab Adrian with a knife only for his target to bash his arm away and swipe his legs from under him. The black-clad warrior stomped down on the man's hand then kicked the assailant's head, knocking him out.

Regrouping, the rest of the thugs were hesitant. Signs of fear showing in a few of their faces. In barely a minute nearly half their gang had been taken out in apparent inhuman speeds. They were simple street thugs, used to dealing with defenseless civilians, not someone trained to take out their opponents as quickly and effectively as possible.

All that really mattered to Adrian was that they were all focused on him, their backs turned to Nimba, the warrior woman and the other patrons. One of them yelled at him, "You think you can take us all?!"

Adrian's reply was simple, "If I must."