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The Book of the Damned

The Book of the Damned

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A one on one rp for me and Anna

977 readers have visited The Book of the Damned since blackrider created it.

Introduction

“You stand accused of being a spy for the north! How do you plead!?” The judges thunderous voice boomed throughout the small court house followed by a series of loud clacking of wood on wood as he raised and lowered the gavel repeatedly in an unnecessary rage. The judge, who’s old age was clearly shown by the many wrinkles and alarmingly bald head, looked extremely frail as if a small wind could knock him over. His small beady coal black eyes were transfixed on a shabby looking man before him, the old judges eyes seemed as if they were looking at evil itself.

The poor man who found himself under the judges bone chilling gaze seemed unfazed by the accusation, and used to the hateful look of the judge. The man straightened, his solid frame resembled that of a soldier saluting-his stance sharp and crisp. His hair, unlike many of the blonde haired clean cut citizens who filled the old courthouse, was a dark black, and his eyes, also unique, were that of a dark green with specks of brown. His face, which was actually rough with cuts and grime, was covered in a large black beard that trailed to the midsection of his chest. Along with his long dark hair that reached down to his shoulders, which had begun to mat together due to little hygiene, the man looked as if he was straight out of prison-looking to be in his mid thirties, his torn up pants, grimy white shirt, and grey animal pelt vest didn’t make him look any better. Yet, still with the look of a poor beggar, the man carried himself with a certain pride and manner that demanded respect. “I, Sir, Am of no such thing.” His voice boomed, cool and calm, but at the same time angered by the accusation. The truth was, all he was was a simple mountain man, living right on the large treck of mountains which separated two Kingdoms whose war had gone on so long none even remembered the cause, but fights were constantly arisen due to pure malice and hate between the two great warring factions-the only incentive to fight was to kill.

Unfortunately for Flint, who was the bearded man standing trial, he was born and raised in the Northern Kingdom, Opening him up to extreme racism and bigotry in the Western Kingdom. That meant that this was already an open and shut case, which always resulted in one outcome, a nice thick rope tightened around the spy’s neck. “LIES! LIES! LIES!” The judge roared, practically jumping his small old frame out of the creaky chair he resided in, placing both palms on the large table with a loud thud, his beedy eyes seemed to grow with even more hate “You were found by the Royal Scouts of the King himself plotting secret paths through the mountains for your fellow Northern scum!” The Judge roared slowly sinking back into his chair all, coughing the whole way down. He grew quieter, wheezing heavily. Flint thought it sad that the old man had worn himself out from a mere short shouting spell, as for what the judge had said however, Flint was amused…because the truth was he was merely hunting deer when hed run into “the royal scouts”.

Flint began to speak a response, but was quickly cut off by the lightning crack of the gavel, it seemed the judge was in the mood to yell again, his beady eyes turning to smaller slits like they did every time he yelled. “I deem you guilty of the accused crime! The punishment is the same as is for all other spys!” The packed courtroom burst into cheers and whistling, “HANGING!” The Judge hollered over the mallet, which was currently repeatedly striking the ancient table.


Before Flint knew it he’d been drug out side, being led onto the gallows where so many men-innocent and guilty-had been taken unwillingly by the cold hands of death. The crowd, which had now grown, roared and jeered as the rope was fastened tightly around Flint’s neck. It all seemed unreal to Flint, here he was, one pull of a lever away from death, and yet he wasn’t afraid. The large masked executioner grasped onto the handle, which when pulled would drop the floor out from under Flints feat, if he was lucky his neck would snap….if he wasn’t….then the true horror started, as the crowd was treated to a poor soul kicking and flailing limply in the air like a rag doll until the life was slowly choked from him.

“Wait!” A young voice shouted from a distance, the sound of hooves scraping the cobbled streets approached as the voice grew louder. “Wait!” It proclaimed again, the horse plowing through the crowd. The large executioner looked up from the lever, the man on horse carried the kings emblem. “This prisoner is to be takein to the castle dungeons immediately, by direct order of the king himself!” The large executioners hand twitched, as if called by the lever which held Flints fate. “Buh e’s been provn ta be a spy” The Neanderthal of an executioner said, pure and simple he wanted blood. “You dare to question your king?” The young errant said, raising a slender eyebrow on his young face. His right hand slowly found its way to the hilt of his sword, as if dareing the executioner to try anything stupid. “Righ then!” The executioner boomed “Guards! Get up ere ye stupid gits!”

Now Flint was almost sure this was a dream, the events that had just taken place were far to far-fetched to have actually occurred. He desperately wanted someone to pinch him and wake him up, but the large guard who approached him did him one better, sinking his large muscular arm into Flints stomach, quickly sending him to his knees with an extremely loud ‘thud’. At first flint felt the searing pain in his stomach, and then his world was swallowed into darkness.



Flint awoke in a start, cold sweat rolled down his forehead and had covered much of his now damp shirt. He quickly looked around, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head “Where am I!?” He roared, echoing long down the cold damp hallways that lay before his cell. Gripping the iron bars, yelling like a mad man he began thrashing at the bars, as if trying to rip them from the cell wall. It was now that realization set in, remembering clearly the events that had lead to where he now was, in the dark cold cell, god knows how many feet underground, all because he was born in a different place. He sank down to his knees, despair taking over, who knew what would happen to him now. It was hear, kneeling on the cold stone floor, he finally noticed the second man standing in the cell, a long dark cloak hiding his features, and the main reason Flint had not seen him until this moment. Flint stared at the figure for a long moment, slowly arising with his fists clenched, he didn’t know if the man was a friend or foe.

“So I see you’ve finally noticed me, Sir. Aiden.” The figure said, taking a step forward. His voice was sly and sharp, and contained the hint of forced kindness. “Quite a fit you had there, isn’t it? Id hate to run into that on the battle field…” he said it as if hinting at something. “…Any how….Are you familiar with folk tales, Sir Aiden?” Flint was silent, anger growing in him, here he was in a cold dungeon accused of being a spy and left to rot, and his cell mate wanted to talk about fairy tails. “What are you talking about!?” Flint barked angrily, taking a step forward. The cloaked figure stepped back, but then thought better of it, regaining his lost ground. “Well…uhm…” He coughed nervously “What if I told you I could grant you your freedom?” The anger in Flint rose, going from talks of make believe to that of false hope. “And how do you propose that…” Flint grunted as he sank back to his knees, resting his back against the cold stone wall, this man was obviously a crazy. “Just receive a simple artifact for me! You’ve heard of the book! The book of the damned! The book of darkness! His book!” Flint knew of the tail, as did every child in their lands, he simply chuckled. “The book that the gods themselves banished because no man nor god could control its power!” Flint shouted, it was the last lines of the story. He began yelling again “Yes! Ill get the book for you! Just as soon as I rip these iron bars from their place, storm my way out of the castle weaponless, and journey into the mountains to wherever it is the gods hid the book to end all days!”

“Tsk tsk tsk, Sir Aiden” The cloaked figure said, pulling his hands upwards to his hood, slowly drawing it back. The site of the man made Flint jump to his feet, even though the darkness hid most of his features, Flint could still recognize the cold deep eyes anywhere. The main continued talking, unafraid that Flint was on his feet “To talk to a king with such sarcasm! Indeed they named you The Brave Aiden for good reason!”

This was the final straw for Flint, his face contorted in anger as he launched himself at the man, grabbing him by the scruff of his hooded cloak he threw the man into the dark stoned wall with a loud crash “And what’s to stop me from choking the life from such a great king!?” He roared, his large callused hands wrapping tightly around the fair skinned king, who only smiled up at Flint. “Your life…” he replied quietly, it was rather hard to speak with your wind pipe slowly closing in on itself. The anger in Flints eyes didn’t die but his grip slowly loosened, until it was non existent altogether. “Your serious?” Flint asked, still finding it hard to believe “You want me to find you…this book? And if I do…I can leave?” The King simply nodded “….And if I fail?” Flint asked, as if weighing his options. “Then you shall at least get to taste the fresh air one last time.” The king said with a smile, already knowing his answer. And Flint knew he couldn’t refuse, sure there’s no way he could find a make believe book, but he was sure if he got into the mountains he could easily slip away from whatever goon, and he was sure there’d be one, that the king sent to keep an eye on him. “Ill do it…” Flint grunted with disgust, he hated the man.

“Excellent!” The king exclaimed happily, as if Flint was happy to help. “Well we mustn’t keep your comrades waiting! Come come!” And like that the king was out of the cell, opening the large iron door with an extremely loud creaking noise, his feet raping against the cold cobble stoned hallways as he sped off. Flint nearly had to run to keep up with him, a large frown on his bearded face, it was like chasing after a child. The king lead him along the long cold halls of the dungeon, until finally taking him up a large flight of twisting stairs, which opened into somewhere deep within the castle. Flint wasn’t exactly sure, but he was sick of walking through the lavish palace after about fifteen minutes of having to walk on the dark red velvet that trailed throughout the castle halls, he hadn’t seen one window, and he hated being cooped up inside (nearly spending all of his time outdoors). He also hated the millions of pictures that must have hung on the dark stone walls, all of old kings or famous heroes who had slaughtered his people by the thousands. He wanted to set fire to the palace and watch as the damned thing burned to ash, a task he’d almost accomplished long ago. “Where are you taking me!?” Flint thundered, sick of everything surrounding him. But before he could finish his statement the king had vanished through a large wooden door, decorated with lavished carvings of some forgotten battle in a forgotten time, Flint quickly followed.

Flint now found himself in a large banquet hall, a long oak table spread out before him with various meats and fruits, some of which he’d never seen, it was the most food hed seen at one time however. Somehow the king had already made it to the end of the table, sitting in a large golden chair with a warm plate of food already awaiting him. Two large, and heavily armed, guards stood at each side of the king, spears raised high with a lifeless look across their faces. It was now that Flint realized guards like this stood everywhere in this room, hidden well next to large statues, or in the cover of opened doors (which were evenly spaced throughout the room) Flint walked towards the king, who beckoned him to sit next to him….instead Flint took an opposite seat, sitting at the very end of the table. “Eat my friend! Have your fill!” He answered the kings request by sending the nearest tray of, what appeared some strange fruit, clashing to the floor, sending the contents everywhere. “All you northerners are alike!” the king roared, jumping from his seat “ Barbarians! The lot of you!”

Flint to sprang from his seat, hearing the unsheathing of swords all around him he slowly sat back down, pure malice in his eyes as he looked at the king “Then let me be on my way! Give me my damned burdens and let me go!” Flint roared back at the king, referring to “burdens” as his comrades.

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The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 2 authors

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth was taken by surprise when Flint jumped up from his seat. She looked at him, holding the blanket close to her chest as she looked up at him, slowly laying back down as he instructed her to. She wasn't really used to taking orders from anyone other than the king or her superiors, but there was something in Flint's eyes that makes her listen. She smiled a little at his rambling. "I am a little thirsty," She said, eyeing the bowl of water, licking her lips slightly, "And if I could get a shirt," She added quietly, her cheeks flaming red. She felt Catdo's head nudging at her side slightly, causing her to glance down at him. "Hey there," She said, slowly reaching out to scratch him behind the ear a few seconds before turning her attention back to Flint, her eyes on the water once again.

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Flint shakes his head up and down in a 'yes' manner, taking the bowl of water in his hands he gently puts it against Elizabeths lips and tilts it up ever so slightly so she could drink from it. He then kicked himself in the head for not having her shirt ready-over the course of the long night he had taken a few spare tanned animal skins he'd already had in his home and had meticulously turned them into a tight looking leather tunic that would fit snugly beneath the greyish scale armor he'd made for her on one of their first few nights together.

Quickly scurrying away from the bed to a large clothesline that ran across the left side wall of the cabin Flint quickly pulled the tunic made for Elizabeth off of the line, returning with it clutched in his left hand and Elizabeths sword in his right. As he approached the side of the bed his large foot found its way atop his carved rose, snapping it in half with a loud 'crack' but Flint didn’t seem to notice at all-he seemingly only had taking care of Elizabeth on his mind.. He draped the tunic on the bed in front of Elizabeth and set the sword right side up against the bedframe. “I hope you don’t mind but I went ahead and polished your sword for you, it seemed....like the right thing to do?” He asked, sitting back down in his chair as Catdo trotted over to Flint who proceeded to absent mindidly roughly pet his furry head, he laughed inwardly as Catdo then trotted back over to Elizabeth for pets before returning back to Flint. The pattern continued for some time as if Catdo couldn’t decide who he wanted petting him more. Finally Flint snapped to attention, almost bolting upright in his chair.

“Oh, you probably want me to turn around don’t you?” He asked, nodding at the tunic infront of her. “Im sorry, just let me know when I can turn back around.” And with that he spun around in his chair, this time he was the one with scarlet cheeks-he thanked the gods for his beard.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth drank her fill of the water, before Flint set it back down on the table. She petted Catdo as she watched him walk across the room to grab a tunic, that he had apparently made for her. She smiled a little at the mention of him polishing her sword for her. "Yeah, that's fine. Thank you." She said, giving him a kind smile. She sat there watching Catdo as he went back and forth between her and Flint, not saying a word until Flint finally spoke up, she didn't want to say anything, since he was taking such good care of her, she felt relieved when he caught on himself and turned away. Once his back was to her, she sat up a little more, letting the blanket bunch around her waist as she picked up the tunic and careful slipped it on, the whole time, ignoring the pain in her chest. Once she'd got the tunic on, she laid back down. "Ok, you can turn around now." She said, running a hand through her hair. She glanced down at Catdo once more as he walked over to her again, her eyes finally falling on the broken, beautifully carved rose on the floor. She sat up again, slowly reaching over and picking it up, flinching at the pain in her chest. "You made this, didn't you?" She asked, looking down at the splintered rose in her hand. "It's beautiful." She murmured, glancing over at him out of the corner of her eye. She gently placed it on the table, sighing quietly. "We got the map, didn't we?" She asked, afraid that he may have dropped it during the fight at the Mystic's. She really wanted to get on with the mission, hating the thought of being laid up when she had a task that needed to be done.

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“Just another piece of wood.” Flint said in regards to the broken rose now laying on the table, he then thought about Elizabeths second question. He franticly stood up, his hands quickly darting into his vest. He honestly wasnt sure if he had taken the map or not, things back at the tipi having happened so fast. With a grin though his fingers found their way around the rolled up parchment inside his vest, pulling it out he revealed it to Elizabeth triumphantly. “Yes, we got it. No thanks to you and your unnecessary wound, next time ill take the tomahawk to the chest, okay?” He asked, half heartedly joking about the incident already.

Pushing his chair aside Flint stood up and went over to the fire place, returning to the table with a hot bowl of soup. As he returned his slight smile from before had vanished, a slightly more serious look on his face as he sat down, turning to face Elizabeth. “I...uhm....I'm sorry Elizabeth. Im sorry I let this happen to you, and with my own damned weapon of all things...” He trailed off guilt heavy in his voice, unable to bring himself to look at Elizabeth. Instead he had his eyes locked upon the wooden floor.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth watched Flint a little nervously as he searched his vest for the map, only relaxed when he pulled it out. "Good," She said at his words, rolling her eyes slightly at his joke about her getting hurt. "But I just wanted you take care of me." She said jokingly, her voice sickeningly sweet as she batted her eyelashes, she'd only able to keep it up for a few seconds before she burst out laughing, stopping mid laugh, gasping at the pain in her chest. She groaned quietly, clenching her chest as Flint walked over to the fireplace, then back over to the table with a hot bowl of soup. Her stomach growled quietly as she looked at the soup, but her attention was drawn back to Flint as he spoke. She frowned at his words, shaking her head. "It's not your fault. It was the Mystic." She said, mustering up a small, reassuring smile for Flint, before picking up the spoon and slowly starting to eat the bowl of soup he had brought over to the table.

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Elizabeth's smile made Flint feel quite a bit better as he sat there watching her eating at the bowl of soup, his eyes lingered over her a little longer then he'd like to admit. Quickly standing up from his chair Flint told Elizabeth he'd 'be right back', rushing out the cabin door to find a new piece of wood to whittle away at, returning to the wooden seat by Elizabeth's bed. “Well that may be true about it being the mystics fault but...I'm sorry nonetheless. I should have been ready for something like that.” He said trailing off as he whittled away at the new piece of wood.

“If I can do anything else to help you just let me know. Ill be right here until you can move on your own again.” Flint wasn’t sure why he had exactly said the last part, hell, he wasn’t even sure why he was as worried about her as he was period. “You mind if I ask you something?” Flint asked Elizabeth curiously. Not really bothering to wait for her answer, already assuming shed say he could ask, Flint continued with his question “What do you make of the mystic's readings on you? If theres one thing I know...they come true.”

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth focused on the soup as she ate, feeling Flint's eyes on her, though she refused to look at him. Catdo hopped up on the bed and laid down next to her, his head on her lap. She gently scratched behind his ear as she ate, while Flint walked out of the house, coming back a few moments later. She shook her head at his words about the mystic and how he should have been ready for something like this. She wanted to speak up, to argue, but she knew it wouldn't do any good.

Elizabeth glanced up at Flint when he asked about the Mystic's reading, a small frown tugging on her lips. "I don't know. I don't really want to think about it." She said, the Mystic's words ringing in her head, she didn't want to believe the words about her future, sure that she could change her future, not believing that it was set in stone. "I just can't shake what she said about my father. I know how he died, the king told me." She murmured, her eyebrows crinkling as she thought, wondering what the woman could have possibly meant. She pushed the bowl away as she finished eating, picking up her father's sword, resting it on her lap.

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Flint didnt blame Elizabeth for not wanting to speak about her readings, for the most part he had had the same reaction upon finding out his own future. Unraveling the map they’d fought so hard to obtain in front of his face as he slightly rocked back in his chair Flint quickly began to scan over the information it revealed to him. As Elizabeth spoke about her father he listened closely, biting his own tongue when It came to her king. “And just what did he say happened to your father, if you dont mind me asking?” Flint asked, slightly lowering the map he held in front of his face, his eyes meeting Elizabeths with a curious look.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth started to polish her sword, her eyes on it even as Flint spoke up, asking about her father. "It was a couple years ago, late spring," She said, trailing off a little as she remembered, "My graduation day from the academy, my father was supposed to be there, he had promised." She bit her bottom lip, remembering her father's words, how proud he was of her, he said he would be there, no matter what he had to do. "The ceremony was just about to start when I was told the king wanted to see me. When I got there, he told me my father was killed in battle, up in your lands. The guards were under such heavy attack they couldn't get his body, they only barely had the chance to get his sword." She said with a quiet sigh, "We couldn't even have a proper funeral for him." She added quietly as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, hating to show weakness.

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'Late Spring' the words tossed around violently in Flints head ringing alarm bells, to him killing someone in late spring was absurd. He didnt expect Elizabeth to know about his peoples customs but he knew that spring to his people was a time of rebirth and peace, of forgiveness and brotherhood. During the month of spring all eight of the wandering tribes that made up his people would make their way to an area considered secret to any outsiders and over the course of that month games prayers and brothership ran rampant among the humongous gathering of tribes. To kill someone, even a southerner, during such time was considered the gravest of sins one could commit-an act punishable both in this world and the afterlife.

All that ran through Flints mind as he sat there, not even staring at the map now. He was debating with himself whether or not he should bring this fact up to Elizabeth, the fact was he didn’t want to upset her but at the same time he just couldn’t believe the story the king had fed her.

“I...Dont mean to sound rude or accusing here Elizabeth but, late spring? That honestly...doesn’t make any sense whatsoever to me.” Finishing that sentence Flint continued speaking filling in Elizabeth on the customs of his people and just how a murder during that time was almost impossible. He inwardly hoped shed believe him as he told her the facts he knew to be true, all the while not blaming her a bit if she didnt. He honestly expected to be punched at this point.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth frowned at Flint's words, listening as he talked about his peoples' customs. She shook her head slightly, even though she heard what he was saying, she couldn't believe it. "Well, someone must have hated the southerners more than they cared about your rebirthing thing." She said, with a small wave of her hand, not really sure what to call it, not trying to offend him even though it may come across that way. "The king told me what happened, he doesn't have any reason to lie." She said with another shake of her head.

Elizabeth didn't doubt that Flint was telling her the truth, but she couldn't believe the king would lie to her, so she decided on a medium ground. She sat there for a few moments longer before slowly getting to her feet, gritting her teeth at the pain in her chest. "When are we going to head out after the book?" She asked, not wanting to sit here, cooped up in Flint's house any longer than necessary. She picked up her bowl to go wash it out, not wanting Flint to have to wait on her, wanting to take care of herself.

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Flint immediately decided to let the subject of Elizabeth’s father drop, the last thing that he wanted right now was to argue over such a touchy subject with her. Quickly standing up and walking over to the pile of wood that sat next to the fire place Flint bent down and rooted around for a slightly small piece of wood, upon finding what he was looking for he stood back up and returned to his seat next to Elizabeth. Immediately he began carving away at the piece of wood as he did most times he was nervous or didn’t know what to say.

Slightly glancing at the unrolled map he had left on the table Flint finally answered Elizabeth. “Well, we can leave whenever you are well enough to make the journey. No need in killing yourself over this foolish quest.” Flint added the last part out of a concern he wouldn’t even admit to himself. Having come this far with Elizabeth he had grown rather fond of the woman and seeing her injured as badly as she was the previous night Flint had shook Flint to the core, he even wholeheartedly wanted to just give up the quest for this accursed book right now. But somehow he knew he couldn’t, he also realized Elizabeth would never let him, he could tell she was still extremely loyal to her fool of a king.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth watched Flint curiously as he walked over to the fire place and picked up a piece of wood. She quickly cleaned the bowl then walked back over to the bed, gritting her teeth against the pain. She turned her attention back to Flint when he spoke up. "I'm fine. It's going to take more than that to keep me down." She said with a small laugh. "We could head out now if you'd like." She added, not wanting to be the one holding them back. She gritted her teeth again as she leaned forward a little, to look at the map. "How far is it from here?" She asked, her eyes traveling over the map, trying to figure it out.

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Flint thought Elizabeth was trying to put on a strong front from the words she spoke but he didn't want to question her. "Well, its about a good two days trek into the mountains." He paused looking at Elizabeth while he continued to carve slowly at the stick he held in his left hand. "Are you sure you don't want to wait here a few days, try and see how you feel then?" He asked not being able to hide the tone in his voice that clearly showed he didn't want her to be out and about yet. "I mean, if we do wind up in a fight with who knows what I couldn't stand it if something..." happend to her. He stopped the words from coming out of his mouth just in the nick of time, slightly surprised by the realization of feeling that way. "...something killing me. Or something." He said trying in a pathetic attempt to cover up his slip up.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth nodded her head slowly at Flint's answer to her question. She watched him curiously as he talked about her making sure she was alright in case they got into a fight, raising an eyebrow at his near slip up, wondering what it was he was about to say before he stopped himself. She hesitated a moment but shook her head, "I don't need a few days, I'm fine." She said stubbornly, not wanting to be the one holding back the mission. "Is it too late to set out today?" She asked, glancing toward the door.

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In all honesty it was not to late to head out, as a matter of fact it was actually the perfect time of day to do so. All that being said however Flint couldn’t bring himself to tell her that, instead his mind quickly raced with various excuses and reasons for why they should wait a few days. “Well, uhm, honestly we should-” Flint had been fumbling through his sentence unsure of what excuse to use when a loud knock rang out from his cabin door, the unexpected interruption causing both him and Catdo to practically jump from shock.

He glanced at Elizabeth, the look in his eyes clearly curious. “Your not expecting any one, are you?” He asked clearly joking as he got up from his chair, placing the map he had been surveying atop the table he'd been sitting at. It only took mere seconds for Flint to reach the door, his large muscular arms quickly pulling the wooden cross beam off of the door that separated them from the outside world. In all the years Flint had lived in the mountains not once had he ever had someone knock on his door and it was for that reason he honestly had no idea who or what to expect on the other side. He quickly opened the door to the unknown.

The early morning sunlight shown through the now open door of Flints cabin, and there in the doorway stood a man about his height in extremely elegant looking armor. Although the design of the shining armor was rather splendid with gold trimming and an extremely detailed engraving of a griffon upon the breastplate it was clear from the various nicks and scratches and lack of luster that it had clearly seen quite a bit of battle. The face of the man who wore the armor could only be described as extremely handsome, his sharp features and smooth slightly tan skin were almost the exact opposite of Flints rough and dirty bearded black face.

Flint could immediately tell that the man was a Southerner, his long golden blonde hair that was kept in a tight pony tail and piercing blue eyes being a dead giveaway. Despite all that the thing that immediately drew Flints gaze however was the medallion that hung around the mans neck, the sturdy looking silver chain held a small golden square with a red dot in the middle, Flint wasn’t sure but he could almost swear that the medallion emitted a strange glow. Flint quickly recognized the necklace as the symbol for the Order Of Rusak-a fact that immediately made him cursedinwardly.

“What do you want?” Flint barked at the man grumpily, only to have the stranger walk right past him into his house as if he owned the place. A scowl quickly formed behind Flints beard as his right hand found its way to one of the tomahawks at his side. The stranger seemed to notice Flints reaction, a slender blonde eyebrow raised in curiosity as he finally spoke, his eyes making sure to watch the weapon Flint rested his hand upon.

“Quite the little place you've built yourself here.” The stranger spoke in a rather sophisticated voice as he paced around the cabin, eyeing everything with interest. “I'll be honest, i've always admired the quaint little...” He paused, noticing Elizabeth in Flints bed. His eyes quickly went back and forth between Flint and Elizabeth-his mind obviously forming some unfavorable thought of what the two possibly had been doing. An almost noticeable frown now hung on his lips as he spoke up again “...homes your people manage to cobble together.” He finished as he reached the table Flint had been sitting at moments before, quickly he sat in the unoccupied seat and helped himself to the bowl of half eaten soup on the table. After a few bites he paused, looking down at Catdo who was rubbing up against his well armored leg and was purring rather loudly-Flint looked at the animal like a traitor. “A saber dog.” The man said happily as he petted Catdo. “Now there's a rare animal few people get the chance to meet.” The way he talked was like Elizabeth and Flint were old friends of his, he possessed an almost infectious charisma-he was clearly the type of man who was extremely confident and charming.

Throughout the whole encounter Flint simply stood in his doorway his mouth practically agape. The scene would have almost been comedic if it wasn’t for the fact that rage was clearly boiling inside him.

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Character Portrait: Elizabeth Moore Character Portrait: Flint
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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth jumped slightly, surprised by the knock on the door as well. Since they were in the middle of nowhere, she never would have thought a stranger would drop by. She watched Flint curiously as he went to open the door. She sat on the bed watching the man at the door with growing curiosity as he walked into the house without hesitation. She had to admit he was remarkably handsome but that thought flew from her mind when he looked at her, and saw the frown on his lips. A frown tugged on her lips as well, imagining what it must look like from his point of view. She hated that this stranger had the nerve to judge her and jump to conclusions the way he did. "Excuse me. But who the hell are you?" She asked, her temper flaring slightly at the way he so openly judged her. She crossed her arms over her chest but the action made the wound hurt so she quickly dropped her arms back to her sides and just glared at the stranger who made himself at home in Flint's house. She could tell by the look on Flint's face he wasn't too thrilled about this man's presence either.

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The good looking newcomer was clearly takein aback momentarily by Elizabeths rather blatant question, the look of surprise on his face only lingered for mere seconds but nonetheless it was clear the man wasn't used to being spoken to like that. "A thousand apologies my lady." He spoke with pure sincereity as he bowed towards Elizabeth, his beautiful armor making a dull clanking noise as he straightend back up. "My name is Warrick of Rusak, and please forgive my rudeness. I've been traveling alone for quite some time and seem to have forgotten my manners somewhere along the way. And may I ad-" His smooth serene voice was cut off by the gruff almost barking like voice.

"So just what the hell are you doing up here in the mountains?" As Flint asked he found his way back over towards the table but instead of sitting he simply stood by Elizabeths bedside in a rather defensive looking stance. "I and two of my comrades were sent into the mountains by our order to seek out and finally rid the world of the Mystic of the Mountains."

Flint let out a loud laugh at hearing about Warricks "quest". "And let me guess, your two companions have already met untimely ends?" The cold angered look Warrick gave Flint spoke volumes, clearly Flint wasn't far off from the truth. "Take my advice and turn back to your little tower, tell the others of your order just how futile and foolish your quest is."

"I suggest you watch what you say sir, and how you say it." Warrick spat, an underlying tone of threatening anger clear in his still collected voice.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth's anger dissipated a little when the man apologized and bowed, giving her the respect she felt she deserved, being a part of the royal guard. She watched the man curiously though as Flint spoke to him. When he mentioned his 'quest' of killing the Mystic of the Mountains she burst out laughing, the laughter hurting her chest which made her stop laughing and gasp instead, clutching at her chest, groaning quietly. Once the pain subsided, she straightened up once more, looking Warrick. "I'm sure, by now, you know that quest is a futile one." She said, her hands on her hips as she studied the man. "I mean, you've just said that your two comrades have died at her hand, do you wish to join them?" She asked.

"I myself nearly met my demise at that woman's hands." She said, her hand going to the wound on her chest. "Just what do you want from us?" She asked, her eyes narrowed as she continued to study him, trying to figure out just what he was after. She could tell the tensions were rising between the two guys and was trying to draw Warrick's attention off of Flint so the two wouldn't get into the fight she felt was inevitable.

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“In all honesty, dear woman? I merely seek refuge for the moment being, and I can pay good money for a guide who knows the mountains.” Warrick spoke, his eyes locking with Flints for a moments at the mention of a guide. “And as for my departed brethren, well, lets just say they were not as adept as I am at dealing with mystics. Not to speak ill of the dead nor brag but, I'm much better at my job.” After finishing he pulled off the medallion that sat around his neck, quickly pushing his way past Flint as if the monster of a man was nothing he took the lone seat directly next to Elizabeth.

“Forgive my intrusion but you say the Mystic harmed you?” He asked with honest clear concern, his keen eyes darting around her body before noticing the way she slightly protected her chest-he'd bet money that was where the wound was. “If I may, dear lady, I believe I can help.” He said as he reached out with his armor clad hand that still held his medallion.

Before Warrick could do whatever it was he was doing Flints arm shot out quick as lightning, his bare dirty tan hand gripping at Warricks armored arm so tightly that a slight metal crunch rang out. Warricks eyes darted yet again to Flints gaze, as if wondering just what the hell he was doing, but all he did was let out a slight chuckle. “Its alright my Northern Friend, believe me, I'm doing nothing but helping her.”

Hesitantly Flint let go, although by the look on his face he clearly wasn't happy. The hand that was grippping the armor of Warrick moments ago now held one of Flints signature tomahawks. “Your words better be true, or else.” Flint clearly didn't have to say what 'or else' meant, the deadly weapon in his hand was a clear enough message in itself.

Despite all the hostility received from Flint Warrick seemed to be taking the verbal assaults and all around rude behavior rather well-something unheard of for a natural born Southerner. Even more surprising was the way he talked to Flint like an actual person. “Trust me friend , and you should trust me to.” the last part of Warrick's sentence was clearly directed at Elizabeth, who's eyes he was now staring into. Taking the amulet he held it in the direction of her wound, keeping the metallic object a comfortable distance away from her he closed his eyes and focused, a small almost unnoticeable glow began emitting from his medallion clutched in his hand as he up and down along the wound, the flesh itself literally mending to perfect condition beneath Elizabeths shirt.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth watched Warrick closely as he moved to sit down next to her. She didn't really know what to make of this man, but the look of concern on his face surprised her. For someone to be so concerned about someone they just met, it wasn't something she was used to. When she first met Flint they couldn't stand each other, they would never look at each other such concern, not at first. Though, now they did. Elizabeth knew she shouldn't care about what happened to Flint, knowing what her orders are once they reach the end of their journey, but she just can't help it.

Elizabeth was pulled from her thoughts as Flint grabbed Warrick's arm, causing her to glance between the two, noticing Warrick's arm extended toward her slightly, a medallion in his hand. She looked at the medallion curiously as the two argued, when Flint let go of Warrick, she met Warrick's eyes as he said she should trust him. Before she had a chance to respond, she felt a strange tingling in her chest. It wasn't painful, but felt warm and strange. Her eyes narrowed curiously as she looked down at herself when Warrick was finished, her hand going to her chest, feeling no wound under her shirt. "Wh-what?" She stammered, glancing between Warrick and the medallion, realization slowly setting in. "Who do you think you are!?" She demanded. "What gives you the right to use magic on people without their permission!" She demanded angrily, getting in Warrick's face. Now that she was healed, she was able to move without pain and was back to her usual self, not going to back down from anyone, especially this new stranger who seemed to do whatever he wanted with no regard for others.

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The scene that quickly unfolded was one that Flint found extremely humorous, a fact obviouse by the loud chuckle he let out. He didn't think the fact that magic was used was funny, no, that fact rather upset him. But his anger quickly subsided when Elizabeth verbally struck at Warrick like a viper, and seeing the pretty boy put in his place honestly made Flint's day.

As Elizabeth practically screamed at Warrick it was clear that the man was caught entirely off guard, his almost perfect composure breaking for the first time as a look of real panic spread across his face. Waving his armored arms infront of his face in a 'im sorry; manner he quickly began to speak, although it was clear he was stumbling over his words. "Im-er-im sorry! Really! I know your right I just, I just wanted to help! Honestly!" His body almost fell backwards out of his chair when he was face to face with Elizabeth, he was obviously more afraid of the womans wrath then the barbarians tomahawk. "I promise, it wont happen again! I just, I, I'm sorry! Really!" By the end of his sentence Flint was practically cracking up at Elizabeth's bedside.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth pulled back a little as Warrick apologized, pleased with the look of fear on his face. "You're forgiven, just don't ever do that again." She said with a huff as she sat back down on the bed, crossing her arms and legs as she studied the stranger in front of her. After a few moments, her stiff body language slowly relaxed as she glanced at Flint. "So what do you think we should do?" She asked, without glancing back at Warrick, she didn't really care for his opinion at the moment since Flint was the one she needed in order to finish her mission. "Should we help him or not?" She asked, acting as if Warrick wasn't even in the room at all. She for one didn't really want to see the Mystic again, at least her brain told her to stay away. Her pride on the other hand, wanted to go back and teach that witch a thing or two.

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Flint met Elizabeth's eyes as she asked his opinion, his response of 'no' was obviously clear through his gaze alone. He wouldn't admit it out loud but his main reason for not wanting to help Warrick, aside from his blatant fear and distrust of magic, was the simple fact that he did not like the man. "Well, I think we should all just wait for nightfall and then lock the bastard outside. But, well, that's just my opinion." Flint said grumpily as he folded his arms across his chest, regretfully accepting the fact that that would probably not be the outcome of this encounter.

Almost out of nowhere Warrick stood up, his large armored frame literally blocking Flint from Elizabeths gaze. His normally friendly and calm face had turned stone serious, his attention solely on Elizabeth. "I implore you for your aid, I can tell by your blade that you are a member of the Kings Guard, and that alone tells me that you know what true honor and duty is. You know very well how dangerous this magic user is, and you also know where to find her. Please, help me avenge all those who can no longer avenge themselves. She is to dangerous to leave unchecked."

The mere tone of Warricks voice was enough to almost convince even Flint, that was until he remembered who was saying them.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth couldn't help but to smirk at Flint's suggestion of locking Warrick outside after nightfall. When Warrick stood up, blocking Flint from her view, she frowned slightly as she looked up at him. Though, as he started to talk, her frown fell away and she found herself nodding at his words. He was right, if it wasn't for the fact that she was already on a mission, she wouldn't hesitate to go back and teach that woman a thing or two, but she was kind of afraid of jeopardizing her mission. She hesitated a moment, thinking it over. "You're right," She said, thinking about the magic the woman had used, the way she'd attacked them and left them practically defenseless. Right now, the woman seemed to keep to herself, but what if she decided to go on the offensive, Zeke and Beth could be in danger. "We have to stop her before she hurts anyone else." Elizabeth said determinedly, glancing at Flint. "We have to." She said again.

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