The continent of Tecon

After receiving the belonging Flint had had with him when he was arrested, which were all unceremoniously thrown into a burlap sack, Flint was shocked to see the person the king had decided would accompany him on his foolish quest. It was a woman. A battle trained woman at that, something that was extremely frowned upon in his kingdom, in his lands war was a job souly left to men. Grimacing inwardly at the thought of having to babysit this 'warrior woman' Flint quickly followed in her footsteps out the castle, quickly coming to walk side to side with her. If he hadn't been so focused on leaving he might have even objected to her companionship.

After immediately following Beth Flint was very eagerly wanting to be out of the accursed stone prison the king called home. Finally making it to what he'd hoped, was the final door he placed both palms on the large wooden door and pushed forward, sending the door slowly creaking open, immediatley filling the poorly lit corridors with the strong rays of the sun. Stepping out into the fresh air, he breathed deeply, feeling the fresh Northern winds on his face. He could hear the kings loud crys of anger echo along the long corridors, but that didn’t matter to Flint, instead he lazily rested against the wall, folding his arms together frowning. He could just run away and see how far he got, but that was against everything he'd been raised as. He let out a deep sigh, he'd made a deal and had to pull through, or at least try and find the stupid book. He looked out over the small city that sprawled before him, the suns light slowly dying as it burned its way across the sky setting behind the large mountains, night was coming, which meant they'd have to set out in the morning, yet Flint would rather sleep in the streets then spend another minute in that castle.

Taking one more moment to breathe in the cool air he finally acknowledged his companion “Do you know of any decent inns in the area? We cant travel the forests at night, thats when the real monsters come out. And I dont mean my people.” His tone was harsh and accusing and as he asked he eyed the women up and down carefully as if trying to size her up, perhaps gauge her reaction to his comment?

“After you.” Beth said as she motioned to the stairs, which were the last things on Flints mind. He'd been fixated on the young blonde boy sense they'd entered into the establishment. From the moment he'd ran up to Beth to the second he'd ran off something about him made Flint smile, he found comfort in the fact that whether he was in the northern or southern kingdom children normally remained the same. Usually they were untouched for the most part of the prejudices that plagued their families.

For a few moments Flint watched as the boy tentatively pushed a poorly cobbled together looking broom across the floor. Probably a family chore forced upon him. Regardless Flint could tell the boys eyes had a hard time staying off of Flint as he swept around the rather well kept establishment. As his chore drew him even closer Flint let a toothy white grin shine beneath his beard. As the boor hesitantly passed by Flint let out a loud “Boo!” in his gruff voice. It seemed like the boy was there one second and gone the next, as at that moment all that lay in front of Flint was a lone broom. The boy had probably ran to his fathers side for protection.

After that Flint returned his attention back to Beth, a fresh grin on his face “No, my fair captor” He slurred the words in insult “I believe I'd prefer a drink first, perhaps a meal even. Come join me if you can withstand the company of a northerner.” And with that he pulled the nearest wooden seat over to himself and sat himself at a table, waiving a muscular arm in the air at the inn keep Beth had been talking to earlier. The woman looked rather unhappy.

After telling the waiter 'whatever tasted good' it wasn’t long before two hot plates of food sat at their table. The contents of Flints appeared to be mostly potatoes and steak, of which Flint had no problems with. He'd immediately began going to town on his plate of food, not bothering to wipe the occasional piece away that found its way into his beard.

“Leaving in the mornin eh?” Flint spat inbetween bites “Tell me, girlie, have you ever been into the mountains before?” Pausing after asking the question Flint pulled the burlap bag closer to himself that he'd received from the Kings court. At the same time he'd noticed the young boy enter back into the room, eying everyone in it cautiously-mainly Flint.

Two empty tables across from Flint and Beth sat four large sully looking men, peasants obviously by their attire but their bodies were large and lean from the constant work they were probably involved in. Of all four men every single eye in the group was transfixed on Flint, each full of hate and intent, a fact Flint either seemed oblivious to or rather simply cared to ignore.

“Leaving in the mornin eh?” Flint spat inbetween bites “Tell me, girlie, have you ever been into the mountains before?” Pausing after asking the question Flint pulled the burlap bag closer to himself that he'd received from the Kings court. At the same time he'd noticed the young boy enter back into the room, eying everyone in it cautiously-mainly Flint.

Two empty tables across from Flint and Beth sat four large sully looking men, peasants obviously by their attire but their bodies were large and lean from the constant work they were probably involved in. Of all four men every single eye in the group was transfixed on Flint, each full of hate and intent, a fact Flint either seemed oblivious to or rather simply cared to ignore.

“Well to be honest theres nothing wrong with setting out in the morning. Honestly the best time to do it.” Pausing mid speech Flint turned the contents of his burlap bag upside down letting them all spill out onto the wooden table (he seemed to pay no heed to the fact that food also littered the table). “And don't get me started on the things that come out of those accursed peaks a sundown, that's the time of day you don't want to be caught dead up there.” As he spoke his eyes danced over the tools of destruction that laid before him before grabbing at the weapons greedily, first taking two tomahawks, one in each hand. Now smiling like a mad man he tossed one into the air, watching the perfectly balanced work of art spin upwards before falling back into his hands.

Hed inherited the weapons from his father, the perfectly smoothed oak wood handles extending about a foot each, both ending with a razor sharpened ax head on one side, and a deadly triangular point on the opposite side of the ax head, the original brownish wood had turned darker throughout the years, due to all of the blood that they had taken. Next was the long bone handled steal knife, the bone had come from the first beast Flint had killed, this he simply slid into his rough leather boots, not giving it another thought. Looping one tomahawk, through his belt, which seemed to fit perfectly, the other he tossed lightly in his hand, returning his gaze to Beth. “And why would I want to hurry lady warrior? I've simply been bidding my time and waiting for those poor sods over there.” He nodded behind him at the table of four. “To finally work up the courage to attack us. Give me an excuse to blow off some steam.”

Flint sighed inwardly as the men he'd been waiting for to attack him seemed to back down at the stern words of Elizabeth. Honestly Flint was impressed by the woman, even if he was somewhat disappointed by the lack of what he thought was an inevitable fight. As the day workers begrudgingly returned to their drinks at their lonely table Flint couldn't take his eyes off Elizabeth as she too returned to her seat across from Flint.

Before speaking Flint returned his loose tomahawk to its rightful place at his side. "So tell me girl, what would you like me to address you as? I know you Southerners can get rather hung up on your 'titles'" He sneered the word titles. "But Ill consent to calling you whatever you'd like, I am after all your prisoner for the time being." As he finished his sentence he'd begun stroking his long black beard with his right hand absent mindidly, not taking his eyes off the girl, He didn't even pay attention when Ann the bartender had come by to refill their drinks, instead his hazel eyes remained transfixed on Beth as if waiting for her answer.

After Ann had returned and picked up their dishes, all the while giving Elizabeth a look that read “thank you”, Flint decided to accept Elizabeth’s advice and turn in for the night, but not before quickly telling her “Well then Elizabeth, you can call me Flint, as I'm sure you were already well aware.” And with that Flint stood from their shared table and headed for the stairs. So far the twos companionship seemed off to a rocky start at best.

After spending a restless night sleeping in the rather well kept shaby inn Flint awoke with a sharp pain in his neck. But that was to be expected when one slept on a wooden floor in the most awkward position imaginable. Sure, there had been a rather comfortable looking bed in the room Flint had been forced to share with Elizabeth but that previous night he'd insisted she'd be the one to sleep in the bed despite her protests. For as brash as Flint he'd let a flicker of chivalry show through his rough exterior.

Turning his neck fiercely to the right a sickening “Crack!” followed suit. Despite the painful sound the sensation seemed rather pleasant as Flint quickly sprang from his feet as if reinvigorated. Immediately looking around the small room, which consisted of not much more then a bed, a nightstand, and an ancient looking dresser. There was also a beautiful blonde woman who sat at the bed with a rag in one hand and a good sized sword in the other (which Flint noticed now seemed rather polished, as if a daily habit.) Her eyes bore into Flint like shed been watching him all night, which for all Flint knew had been the case seeing as he'd passed out almost immediately the moment his head had hit the floor.

“So..” Flint began, a little more kinder sounding then he had the whole previous day. Perhaps the possible hanging had made him grumpy the day before. “..You wouldn't happen to have any money on you would you? There's a few things we should pick up before we officially head out. Know any good merchants?” As he asked the question he seemed to realize how strange these questions were for 'morning conversation'. Most people wood have told Elizabeth good morning, and here Flint was asking if she had money. “Oh and dont take this the wrong way, im not tryin to buy shit for myself or somethin.” He waved his arms in the air in a 'no offense manner' “Oh and uh...good morning.” He added rather forcefully.

Flint laughed inwardly at the emotional exchange between Elizabeth and the young boy once they had headed downstairs. Throughout the hug and afterward Flint seemingly refused to acknowledge the encounter-not wanting to embarrass the boy nor did he want to invoke the wrath of Elizabeth yet again. Instead he quietly followed Elizabeth out of the inn to the merchant shed mentioned knowing.

When they reached the merchant, which was a rather decently sized wooden booth containing items for sale ranging from furs to blades and even food, Flint took no time hesitating in picking out various items. First picking up a rather sturdy looking leather rucksack Flint began filling the empty pack with various dried meats and the occasional fruit along with a fair amount of furs. The merchant who ran the booth, a portly looking baby faced southerner, seemed to make it his business to follow Flint from item to item-voicing aloud his ever growing bill with each new purchase he picked up.

“I assume you'll be paying the full twenty gold pieces then?” The large well man dressed balked at Flint after he'd filled his pack. Of all the items Flint had gathered the price couldn’t have reasonably exceeded more then fifteen gold pieces, a fact Flint knew well as his right hand instinctively found its way to they head of a tomahawk that rested in his belt line. “I think you mean thirteen gold pieces, little man.” Flint barked in response to the mans comment, sounding extremely angry and provoked as he did so. Beneath his thick main of hair his face had even turned a slight red.

During the same time Flint was busy haggling with the fat merchant, over gold that wasn’t even his, he noticed three men out of the corner of his eye. The three were approaching rather fast, and as they gained ground Flint noticed them as the three men from the night before at the Inn. Only this time two of the men carried pitchforks and the third clutched a rather mean looking stick.

Flint quietly cursed at himself as he heard Elizabeth slightly scream in agony from the blow she'd received. Between being caught up in the arguing with the merchant and Elizabeth heading their attackers off Flint had honestly thought nothing would come from the group of ill equipped men, hed honestly thought they wouldn't have the gall to attack an official member of the kings guard. Apparently however the hate for Flint, a northerner, had overridden the groups logic.

Not hesitating for a moment Flints hands seemed to have a mind of their own, a tomahawk clutched tightly in his right fist before he had even completely turned to meet their attackers. Without any warning he let loose tomahawk with deadly accuracy, the gleaming blade head protruding from the skull of the poor man on the left who had been flailing wildly with a pitchfork. Before the poor fool who now wore a tomahawk for a hat had a chance to collapse to the ground Flint was already attacking the remaining villager who wielded a pitchfork, fear clear in his eyes after seeing his comrade dropped so quickly and his other partner in crime already bloodied from Elizabeth's attack.

Easily sidestepping the oncoming vulgar thrust of the pitchfork Flint was merciless in his response. Taking advantage of the opening his opponent had presented Flint wildly slashed at the mans exposed neck, slicing well past a quarter of his neck. Dropping the pitchfork and collapsing to the ground clasping at his neck and spraying blood the whole way down, Flint angrily spat at the squirming body on the ground.

His dirty fur vest and drab shirt were rather covered in blood as he turned to Elizabeth, who Flint fully expected to be standing over her dead atacker. The expression Flint wore before he spoke to Elizabeth was almost scary, the stone like look that covered his face was that of a pure warrior. “Are you ok?” He asked, concern clear in his voice as he drew his spare tomahawk from the head of his fallen opponent. “The bastards didn’t hurt you, did they?” As Flint finished asking he noticed the terrified look on the chubby merchant he'd been arguing with earlier. Hell, now they might even get away with simply paying ten gold pieces.

Watching Elizabeth tie her arm off by herself with an old piece of shirt made Flint frown inwardly. He honestly wanted to help her. But what did he expect when almost every encounter with her had ended with him insulting her or her people? Quickly thinking he was an idiot and giving himself a good mental kick in the head Flint turned his attention back the the merchant-who Flint had noticed was now standing defensibly on the other side of his booth. The fat man eyed the dead men that lay in the street as Flint and Elizabeth approached him. Local peasants had already begun to strip search the poor dead fools for anything of value, a practice that seemed common among the various people who went by about their business, sidestepping the bodies as if they were left over puddles from a rainstorm.

“So then, we are agreed on eleven pieces of gold?” Flint asked the portly merchant who seemed to struggle with the 'yes of course' he gave in a stuttered response. “Elizabeth here will pay you.” Flint nodded to the wounded Elizabeth behind him. Before throwing the pack over his arm and sealing it shut Flint made sure to grab a nice thick roll of fresh gauze and stuff it into the bag, clearly thinking of Elizabeth's fresh wound even though neither of them would say anything of the incident.

For once it seemed as if Elizabeth and Flint were in complete agreement, a fact he acknowledged with a sharp nod as the crowd began to grow slightly and slightly larger. “I think thats actually a very good idea.” And with that Flint and Elizabeth set out from the merchant square where the fight had taken place, fresh blood still clinging to each of their weapons as they fled the scene.

It wasn't long before they had both reached the outer limits of the city with Flint leading the way, the large stone wall that covered the entirety of the city was even within sight. The rest of their trek to reach the outside of the city had been rather uneventful aside from two separate occasions where younger men, children almost, had attempted to pickpocket both Flint and Elizabeth, however both attempts had ended with the wounded Elizabeth catching them in the act and chasing them off with not much more then a stern glare. Flint had been impressed.

As they passed through the gate of the ancient moss covered stone wall Flint had to admit he was impressed by the architecture. It was true his people didn’t believe in stone constructs, and yet he couldn’t help but somewhat marvel at the effectiveness of these defensive walls. Hell, it had kept him and his comrades out more times then he cared to remember. Brushing the memories aside Flint and Elizabeth ventured forward into the great forests that separated the city from the mountains where Flint had lived for the past several years.

After a day or two of hard traveling Flint and Elizabeth had found themselves deep within the heart of the great forests of the south. As night had approached Flint had cautioned Elizabeth that they should set camp, a fact Elizabeth had whole heartedly agreed with. Over the past two days it seemed as if the pair of companions had begun to form a slight comradery, it wasn’t friendship by a long shot but they had reached the point where they weren’t constantly verbally attacking each other, occasionally they even shared a kind word.

As the stars twinkled brightly high above them Flint idly stared at the small campfire both he and Elizabeth sat around. Grabbing a decently sized stick Flint poked at the red embers, taking care to stir them gently. Silently he wished to himself he'd picked up a bow and arrow when he and Elizabeth had visited the merchants quarter, he was already becoming sick of the dried meat and fruit they’d boughten. As he finished stirring the fire he stared across the glowing flames at Elizabeth, who appeared to already be sitting on her sleeping bag while yet again polishing her blade. The constant habit made Flint grin slightly. “Hows the arm?” He asked gruffly as he picked up a spare stick from his pile of lumber he'd collected for the fire, his spare hand finding its way to his large boot knife. He immediately began whittling at the stick he now clutched, a nervous habit he'd had sense a boy. “If you need fresh bandages I’ve some in my rucksack.” He quickly added, nodding to the large leather bag he'd been carrying almost all their supplies in.

After Elizabeth had finished bandaging herself the two were silent for awhile, the only sounds being that of the forests night life along with the occasional crackle of the fire along with Flints constant 'thunk' as he whittled away-he tried his best to make sure the wooden scraps found there way into the fire pit.

Finally breaking the silence Flint began speaking again, his hazel eyes finding their way yet again onto Elizabeths gaze. “I don't know what all you know of my people exactly, if anything.” He paused for a moment, as if unsure of his words. Durring the silence his whittling seemed to increase quite a bit, it was after all a nervous habit. Finally finding the words he spoke up again “But uh...Where I come from some people would consider us blood brothers.” He paused again, his eyes showing a hint of nervousness “Not that I mean your a man or anything!” He hastily added to the conversation, almost stumbling through his own words. “Just, you know, a saying among my people. We don’t have women who fight so the term doesn’t translate to well. I, uh, well...” Flint trailed off again, not even sure of what point he'd been trying to make. He was clearly referencing the battle in the city market that had taken place but could not find words to fully relate the point he'd been trying to make, and at this point he was just simply embarrassed. If it wasn’t for his thick beard Elizabeth probably would have even seen him blushing somewhat.

His whittling seemed to increase to almost super human speeds.

Flint was shocked by Elizabeths response. To him it was almost an admission of thanks, or at least as close as the two would ever come Flint thought. He held his hand up in the air as if to stop her from speaking, the knife hed been using to whittle still clutched in his right hand. “No need for thanks Elizabeth. I know you'd have done the same for me. I'm just honestly surprised those fools had the nerve to attack us in the first place. My only real regret is I wasn’t paying close enough attention to help you before the Southern bastard had been able to land a blow.” He stopped speaking, the slight insult of southerners hanging in the air. Flint shuffled uneasily on his sleeping bag before quickly standing up and grabbing a spare log that he'd gathered earlier and threw it on the fire, which greeted the log with a loud 'pop'.

“I'm sorry about that. Its hard to not think of your Southern brethren as enemies. I'm sure you can relate, just the way I was raised among my people. You understand, yes?” Flint asked as he returned to his seat atop his sleeping bag. Quickly he reached into his rucksack and pulled out a large red apple and a decently sized piece of dried jerky. Without any word he offered the apple to Elizabeth from over the fire, the red flames making the apple glow a beautiful reddish hue.