World of Ruyn

Leofric's eyes narrow at the man's last remark. Had this man just insulted his intelligence? With a scowl Leo spits in the man's direction but does not make a show of it. Instead he walks away in the direction the man had pointed and thinks about the bird in the window. A bird? Had not Anael had something to do with a bird? He is sure that the stranger had not been normal but did not figure him to be a shape-shifter. He tries not to think about the mile he has to walk as he knows that it will just annoy him.

He has never been to Gooseneck before but has heard of it and when he first heard the name he imagined that it was so named because it was a small town and goosenecking neighbors probably knew everybody's business but their own. Obviously he was wrong. In fact it would seem just the opposite as he cannot imagine that anybody could know anything about anybody else in this maze of a place. Even talking to the farmhand felt like it took two damn days! Now he can't take his mind off the smart-mouth farmhand.

"Try not to think about it," he mutters in a mocking tone. He briefly imagines tying the farmhand to a tree while he shoots apples off of the top of his head with his bow and telling him to, "Try not to think about it too much."

The world stood impossibly still at that moment. Sylwyn had barely aged a day in the years they’d known each other, and yet still managed to maintain that innocent charm. Or at least the appearance of it. Had he made the move, it would have been less innocent, though no less intimate. Karem could do little beyond stare in admiration as the candlelight flickered upon her features as he suppressed the desire to respond in just such a manner.

“We have a partnership,” he answered with a wink.

He still could not bring himself to bring up the reason for his sudden ability to accompany her that evening, and doubted that he ever would. So long as everyone was safe, none needed to be the wiser of it.

He sharply at Calihal’s sudden need to introduce him, the request dripping with poisoned honey. He wondered briefly if he had missed some momentous event that might have actually led to his officially becoming “the suitor”. That was certainly not part of the job description, although he would not have minded the addition. Just not if it had to become official at the present moment . . . A part of him became vaguely aware of the politics involved in such a move. It had not yet overridden his natural desires or sincere affection, but the issue was there nonetheless. Unfortunately, political games were not his strong suit.

Karem felt the bloodflow around his neck and ears increasing as he found himself the center of attention. He shot Calihal a deadly look that he usually reserved for those with whom he wished to finish matters outside. The same instinct that drove the dark elf to provoke a scene at Karem and Sylwyn’s expense drove the guardsman to dare him to take up the offer, to cross his path outside the political arena. He would allow no man to shatter whatever good thing he had with Sylwyn.

Duruil, on his part, appeared to have seen him for the first time that evening. The full moons had moved during the course of the dinner, casting his refined features in shadows and making his light frame more imposing against them. His sister’s vaguely supercilious look, mirrored by the high elves who accompanied her, made him very aware of the physical distance between himself and the representatives of humanity.

Honestly, Karem had hoped that his uniform would speak for itself in regards to answering the ambassador’s question. Both that masculine ego and a sincere belief that she deserved something better, Karem momentarily doubted if it that was enough. Before he could formulate an appropriately impressive response that would give him merit to win said woman’s favor, he felt Sylwyn’s hand around his waist as the distance between them closed.

Again, that tantalizing scent. His natural desire to place a hand on her shoulder seemed the best move to complete the picture. There was a hint of protectiveness in the gesture, but also something more. He noticed an unusual little critter on her shoulder as she leaned in adn his arm brushed past it. It was not out of character for the elf to be found with some sort of woodland creature, but he recent events hinted at a singular explanation as to why one might appear hidden discreetly behind the waves of that fiery auburn hair. He tried not to make his notice obvious, and (unwillingly) ripped his gaze away from Sylwyn to look instead steadily back at Duruil.

He couldn’t help but match Sylwyn’s smile as the Lord settled the matter of Karem’s legitimate claim to his daughter’s hand. Perhaps there was hope for him yet. He doubted that Calihal would let the insulting defeat go easily, but neither would Karem.

“You’re too kind, my Lord,” said Karem smoothly. “I’m honored to have the pleasure of your daughter’s company, although I can only hope to match the Chancellor’s . . . high caliber.”

The playfully devilish glint in his eye said that, although he wasn’t privy to the subtleties of political games, he understood what Sylwyn’s father had done. Bound by the professional honor of a soldier and the personal honor of a Roamer man, Karem remembered the moment and would happily repay the two debts – one for rescuing him, and one for giving Calihal a good personal blow in the process.

GOOSENECK

He had to act quickly now or else he knows he could be in a lot of trouble. The hiker is obviously not a warrior so Leofric takes advantage of his obvious advantage in reflexes by reaching up and snagging the handle of the knife the hiker is going for. He does not take it though but rather slides it across the ground and away from them both. The blade of the knife leaves the man's throat but just as quickly as it does Leo's other hand wraps tightly around in its place except that he makes sure to hold the man from under the Adam's apple so as to not actually choke him.
Leo's knife the quickly makes a poke at his own chest to draw just the faintest trickle of blood.

"You attacked me, get it!?" Leo whispers harshly as he leans in close to the man's face. "I tackled you to the ground and knocked the knife out of your hand before you had a chance to make another desperate stab!" His voice is low and it sounds almost crazed. Even the look in his eyes seems to show a man who has finally gone over the edge.

How could the hiker possibly know that Leofric has never been so under control? A father taught him that a warrior is more than what he is capable of with a weapon. A warrior's instincts and wile can serve him as well outside of battle and that the truly great warriors are even able to turn to politics in times of peace.

:GOOSENECK:

Leofric shakes his head as he stands there in the alley, looking more and more like a tourist than when he had first entered. Others might call the look dumbfounded. With a playful swat at the cat Leofric turns and walks out of the alley.
"I shall hunt criminals, monsters, and even wild game but by the Avani I am done hunting for a book!"

With a frustrated strut, Leofric walks back in to the street, swatting at the ankles of anyone in his way with his bow.

Drifting silently along the cold air drafts, Sennex strained to pierce the mist that surrounded him. The water carried sound well, and it wasn't long before he heard the sound of waves softly splashing against a hard surface. This far out, that could only mean that the suspected ship existed. Gotta love those elvish eyes.

Swooping in closer, he saw the shape of a schooner - vague and blurry at first, then clear as day. The last time he had seen such a ship, he had been on it as she carried a full load of slaves after a successful campaign against the outlying human and elven clans.

As he scoped the ship, Sennex heard a male's voice hailing through the mist and fog. Flying a bit lower, he identified the rowboat, captained by a dark man and carrying a darker cloaked figure poised to fire. These were not soldiers. Their intentions were as cold as the water around them. He considered swooping in just as silently as they approached to grab the arrow before it flew towards its target, but only briefly. He had been instructed to find a ship, not intervene in its affairs. Exposing himself now would only reveal to everyone that they were being watched, and was not likely to stop the bloodshed that would ensue. In any case, Sennex had interfered enough over the last few days. This was human business. Political. And he had no love of politics.

As he wheeled widely over the area, the vague shadow of a second rowboat slipped alongside the schooner, seen only by sharp owl eyes designed to pierce the shadows. This was not his battle. He just kept reminding himself that as he glided silently overhead, hidden by mist and darkness.

Taena smiled at Eddie, and winked at him before releasing the bow straight through "Jenkins" throat. The expression on his face was priceless as he muttered "Att-" before being cut short. His body landed in the water, luckily not splashing. Knowing the attack would commence soon, she slung the bow on her back, and began to climb the rope up, before Eddie helped her up onto the ship.

She saw a young man, 17 maybe, with a bewildered expression on his face.

"Where did Jenkins go?" the fellow asked, before whirling her Silver axe into his face, cracking the skull and releasing bits of brain and bloody all over the ship.

She turned to Eddie, seeing him smile at her grace. She grinned, relishing the feel of the young mans blood on his face. She threw off her cloak, and showed off the fact she was wearing very tight fitting, red leather armor. She charged at another, 7 ft tall sailer, heavily muscled with a mean luck on his face. She sliced his throat with her axe, laughing at the carnage she was causing, before kicking the toppling body onto another sailor, chaos raging through the ship as the Red Ravens unleashed their fury.

Taena turned to Eddie, a physchopathic glint in her eye, walking up to him, smiling.

"It may be time to signal the alarm, handsome" she purred, before standing beside him, relishing in the chaos she had caused.

Taena examined the carnage as the sailors from below deck began to filter up, advancing on the Red Ravens and defending the ship. Taena loved this, the blood, the death, the insanity of it all, the taste of a salty sea on her tongue.....Taena suddenly remembered exactly WHY she was a pirate/outlaw, and looked to the strong, handsome, muscled and dashing figure of Eddie. She smiled to herself. He might be wanting a woman tonight, the Dark Elf thought...

She turned around just to see an Imperial Captain lunge for an attack, which she nimbly dodged, before upholstering both her axes and taking the fight to him, before she slipped and dropped them both. She was now on the floor, with no weapon apart from her bow, with a rather angry looking Imperial Captain advancing on her slowly, sword out its sheath.

No bloody way my armors going to protect me against that, the Dark Elf thought. She felt humiliated having to do this, but she had no choice.

She turned her head towards Eddie, fighting a swarm of Imperial scum.
"EDDIE! BLOODY HELP! the Dark Elf screamed, praying to gods she did not worship for a response...

Silent as night, Sennex circled the Seafire just low enough for his sharp owl eyes to penetrate the darkness and observe the bloodshed below. More than a few of the raggedy attackers actually seemed to be enjoying the carnage. So enamored were the participants in their deadly dance that no one cared to look up.

They may or may not have caught his gray, broad-winged shape against the mist, nor given him much thought if they had. But they would be poor excuses for seamen if they had failed to note the lone, scraggily figure climbing the ship’s mast and commandeering the crow’s nest, turning the sails to take the ship towards the dock. Naturally, the pirates and sailors below appeared to be fully engrossed in what appeared to be a stalemate between the bloody redhead and the Imperial archers – over a woman. Typical.

Sennex had to wonder – why this particular schooner? Was it just for the sake of a cover to get close enough to the Embassy for the real loot? Or was there a darker, more sinister purpose? Those would surely be the questions on Sylwyn’s lips, and perhaps his own. He would certainly be conscripted in an attempt to find out if this was the case. Might as well, then . . . The situation on deck provided as good an advantage as any.

With the speed and agility of a practiced hunter, Sennex swooped down and pressed his wings close as he dropped through the open door leading below deck. Re-expanding their broad length at the last moment to turn his kamikaze fall into a controlled landing onto the wooden steps, he took in the catacombs of the ship. A standard storage area to the careless eye, but Sennex’s natural instinct sensed another’s presence, and his borrowed night vision and sense of smell detected the rouge figure quickly.

Releasing an ear-splitting screech, he wasted no time flying directly at the crates around the man’s head, sending the carefully stacked cargo upon him. It was enough to produce a cry of surprise followed by a rather creative cuss cut short as he was sent into unconsciousness.

Landing safely away from the wreckage in a comparatively clear area, a swirl of dust and cold night sea are sucked in from the still-open door slapped around him as Sennex assumed his natural form.

Now able to freely maneuver unhindered, his unchanged molten gaze swept the area for anything of interest. It stopped upon reaching an unusually well-kept crate. Although it sported more than a few scratches from travel, the wood had not assumed the dingy appearance of the other storage containers.

Hefting the thing upon an intact stack or ordinary crates, Sennex inspected it. No hinges, no nails - only solid planks of a rich brown wood with an unusually lightly colored grain. Looked at closely, its pattern made regular, undulating patterns vaguely resembling the tattoos winding up his arms. But it only appeared that way if he stared at it too long, which, he realized, he probably had. Shaking off whatever unnatural power had mesmerized him to it, Sennex attempted to lift what he could only presume to be the crate's lid.

The force of something from inside was so powerful, that he immediately let go with a backward step. Although no longer touching the ungodly thing, Sennex could still feel whatever skin he had tingle with the pins-and-needles like sensation, which had crawled up with lightning speed up his arms. It was as if a living force had sparked upwards through him, causing the usually dark tattoos to momentarily glow with life.

Once his stunned expression was replaced with one of perturbed determination, Sennex tried a second time with the same result. Whatever this . . . box was would not allow him to open it.

Even a bolt of liquid gold auric energy was absorbed by the enchanted wood with nothing more than a small bounce. Whatever - whoever - had done this was at least as powerful as his first mistress. As powerful as the gods themselves.

With time racing against him, Sennex performed a quick body search of his unconscious victim. He was not quite so low as to unnecessarily strip the man of his weapons, but was very happy to take a ring of iron-cast keys, one of which hung on the rust chain by an ornate, hand-crafted top. That looked important.

Tossing the treasure on the most clutter-free area of the floor, Sennex used the sound of fighting from above to once more take the owl's disguise. He shot into the night air the same way he had come, keys in beak. Before anyone could ask themselves what owl took wing over sea at night, he was already under cover of the low lying fog. With wing-tips just barely touching the glassy surface of the sea, the Dreamwalker flew on stealthy wing towards shore.

*******

In the barracks, Karem was met with a round of uproarious cheering by way of greeting. Sailor, guardsman, and Dark Elf alike was gathered around a campfire lit silver by the moonlight streaming through the open windows. Or maybe it was silver to being with, and simply used the power of those moons for fuel, for the light immediately surrounding the dancing flames seemed to be consumed by and reflected back from them.

Had he not had a miserably drunk soldier hanging on his shoulder, Karem would have been inclined to show his displeasure with more than a gruff "Don't burn your bunks. You're not getting new ones."

It had been a long night, with as many low points as high. But how the best moments of that evening had been worth it . . . In any case, Karem understood their need to enjoy their night of freedom, but declined their invitation to join in on the borderline reckless form of celebration.

"But . . . "

"Jack," mumbled the guardsman with only the vaguest remnants of sobriety.

"Jack here would be honored to have you demonstrate how safe that fire is," offered Karem.

This was met with equal parts amusement and disappointment.

"I expect you all to present yourselves for inspection promptly at 0600 in the drill yard. Full uniform, swords polished, bows ready. Especially you," he added with an encouraging push towards the band of military men

Groans of despair rose from the guardsmen, for they knew that having to rise an extra hour early in full uniform meant not only additional training - hard training - but also the likely chance that they would have to demonstrate their skills in one test or another. And, being a fraternal group of military men, they were able to deduce the likely culprit of the order.

Karem, on his part, left Jack in the care of his comrades and their guests.

"Take care of him," he called over his shoulder as he threw his crimson dress coat onto his bunk and left to finish his duties as escort.

As Zabu floated downstream he would feel the icy cold water engulfing his form. THough in his mind he would hear the sound of the screeching hagfish slowly dying down. Zabu would squint slightly in pain however from the wound the hagfish had inflicted on him before he escaped from their grasp. Warm plasma trickling down the wound on his arm he would seem to rest for a mere second. Though moments later his eyes would widen as he would start to hear the sounds of the hagfish yet again coming closer and closer and closer. heading down the path he was. The blood from his arm continued to leak down into the water as he floated. With new fear and adrenaline pumping yet again he would spring into action. Zabu began to rush down the water filled tunnel hoping to elude the hagfish that he thought pursue him down this narrow passage. Being somewhat tired he would pant as he moved, slowly slowing down having fear engulf his form about encountering the dreaded hag fish yet again and their snake like bodies slithering around him and snaring him for their lunch. Zabu hopped he could make it to land or somewhere these things that chased him couldn't follow. He was running out of stamina.