“T’was horrible, it was! Thay lit’rally came from nowhere! I mean, yeh they’re orks, but yuh kinda expect some sort of warnin’, y’know?” Seegert said as he trembled in the meadhall known as the Staggering Dagger. By sheer fortune alone, this human male of about thirty years of age had managed to survive an orc raid upon the caravan he was traveling with. Seegert had explained in gruesome, grotesque detail the raid itself to the patrons in the hall who quite surprisingly were interested in this tale. Orcs having killed everything that wasn’t one of their own, stripping bodies of every worldly possession they had on them at the time… including clothes. Seegert was offered a flagon of mead by the barmaid as he continued his story.

“Wot ‘appened then?” She asked, brushing her curly strawberry blonde locks from her eyes. Seegert immediately perked up and took a lengthy drink from the flagon.

“I got out by the skin of me teeth, I did! I wasn’t gonna tumble with a few dozen orks all by meself, so I did the next best thing… I played dead!” Some of the crowd gasped and continued to cling to Seegert’s every word as he drank his dead comrades weight in alcohol. "When they was all lookin' through the waggins, I told meself 'Self, you'd better think fast 'fore one of those orks puts a knife in your throat!' and think fast I did. I used a bit of a grumbly voice to throw their attention elsewheres, sayin' that there was a big ol' ruby in one of them carts. They all went runnin' and when they was distracted, I snuck off into the woods for safety!"

Seegert sighed and looked around the tavern, his bragging having got the better of him. Some folks were now looking at him as a coward, others found his tale to be a little lackluster at the end. Despite it all, they gave him either a nod or a raise of their tankards for having been as brave as he could been in the situation. Most of the others surely wouldn't have fared as well as the wiry braggart. Even the barmaid seemed to have lost interest in his tale at that point, leaving the man to wallow in his recent cowardice.

The man slumped his head down onto the table, visions of the previous nights onslaught replaying in his mind like a bad film reel. Over and over, sound and all. Never once had he seen so much crimson. He was about to stand up and retire to his quarters when a young boy, one of the stablehands, rushed to his side.

"What about the treasure, sir? All the treasure in those carts?"

Seegert patted the boy on the head, looking out towards the tavern as he slipped the boy the last of his copper coins. "Prob'ly with them orks in the mountains. I ain't goin' after it, but sure as the day is long, a good batch of men could get it all back. I promise you that, boy." He smiled and rubbed his scruffy face, waving to all the patrons before heading upstairs, leaving his words to linger in the air for a few scant moments.

Lamya had been sitting at the bar for several hours now still drinking the heavy mead like it was water. The bartender had been watching her for a while wondering when she would topple off her chair but Lamya sat straight in her chair as usual with her seventeenth pint of mead in her hand. She came to the bar almost everyday looking for new jobs on the bulletin board near the entrance but every time she would stay a while to drink all she wanted at the far dark corner of the bar counter. Since she wasn't the type to talk much people would always whisper about her or just ignore her, she only person she occasionally engaged a conversation with was the bartender.

"I still ain't got a clue to how you can withstand so many drinks and then go out for a job and bring back the prize," said the bartender as he leaned in to talk to Lamya.
"Mead is like energy in a mug for me," answered Lamya with her soft a sensual voice, "so, do you have anything new for me."
"Aye, I do, but I don't know if it'll interest 'ya," Lamya's silence told the bartender that she was definitely intersted, "'ya see now, I've been hearin' 'bout this story of a man named Seegert and how he was attacked by orcs but his carriages were carryin' a mighty load of treasure. The orcs brought the treasure into the mountains, but I think you know as well as I do that those mountains are cursed, the Death Mountains, all sorts of abominable creatures live in there and the deeper you go the worse it gets. Stories say that there was a witch girl who could control death that was banished into them and that you can hear her cries at night."
"Thanks for the info, I think I'll take on that adventure into the mountains."

Lamya made a little giggle then left a gold coin on the counter for the drinks. She took long and silent steps toward the exit but her head was held high because she felt as though she had found a new purpose to her life. She was going to find that treasure, she was pretty confident because she was the banished witch girl for the second story and she knew well the first part of the mountains.
How much worse could it be deeper in? Lamya asked herself with a grin on her face.

Cassadin sat solemnly in the wooden chair, with his hands tied behing his back, looking down at the table, refusing to look his captor in the eyes. The Staggering Dagger's back room was currently occupied by the Drow, some bodyguards, and Sinjin the hilt, a notorious dwarven crime boss.

"I'll ask ye one more goddamn time Krios, what the bloody 'ell did ye find down there?!" The red-faced dwarf yelled, saliva spilling into his beard.

"Kill them Cassadin. They deserve it. Valor demanded. Cassadin ignored him.

"I told you Sinjin! There was nothing down there! Just rats and dirt! Now let me go you little bastard, or I'll never work for your half-pint ass again!" The Drow yelled at the dwarf. Sinjin gave Cassadin a hard look, then erupted in laughter.

"Hahahaha! Ye got a bit o' fire in ye! Alright then, get yer skinny little charcoal ass outta here, before I lop it off and hang it on my wall!" One of the dwarve's bodygaurds cut the rope off the Drow's wrists. He instantly jumped up and kicked over the chair, while making his way through the door.

As he stepped into the bar, he observed the crowd, while picking a table. He noticed a few contacts, and a couple of old mates, as well as a few...*ahem* Regulars. He decided to approach the bar, sitting on one of the stools, and being slightly annoyed by the wobble. The barmaid greeted him with a warm smile.

"'Ello Cass!" She said handing him a mug of his usual ale. He had lived in this city for about a year now, and had made quite a few friends, including the local barmaid.

"Got anything for me, Rosey?" he asked the strawberry blonde woman.

"Well...there was somthin'..." She said, trailing off.

"Continue, hon?" Cass insisted.

"Old Seegert's caravan was ambushed, bloody Orcs slaughtered all his mates, and thiev'd him for all he had. The caravan was spos'd to be filled to the neck with treasure. I already told another girl about it, so she's probably going' to get it from them Orcs, but she just left, so if you go quick, ye might catch her." The barmaid gave him a description, and he raced out the door to catch her. Luckily, she hadn't gone too far. He walked up behind the girl, putting his hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Excuse me miss, might I have a word?" he said to the scarlet haired woman.

Drakon Armand had been sitting in a shady corner of the Staggering Dagger with a heavily armed escort of four 'men'. They wore armor stained black as coal. Each man had a long sword at their side and a round shield strapped to their arm.

The keen observer would notice the men were still, very still, unmoving, and they had no tankards to speak of. The four just sat there in complete unmoving silence. The only one doing anything was Drakon who was wrapped in his black robes with a tankard in his hand. Drakon had been listening to the cowardly braggart’s tale. He guessed he would’ve done something similar if he were a mere man. But he was a master of the dark arts; he would’ve blasted away at the beasts with dark bolts of energy while his ‘men’ dealt with any stragglers.

Drakon had a small list of grimoires and tomes that he needed to acquire. Usually he would simply burst in and put the men down; but these were some very skilled wizards. If need be he could attempt to take them on, but news would travel too fast, by the time he took out one or two, the others would be ready to put up a real fight; it would be easier to buy the books.

His ears perked up as he heard the man mention the treasure the foul Orcs had run off with. Drakon’s mind began to quickly formulate a plan. It was a caravan, which meant there were probably at least one or two carts laden with luxury items and coin. But a lair of Orcs would never only be a dozen or two strong. There would probably be hundreds in their lair not including other foul beasts that would’ve joined them for the violence and bloodshed.

As he had a rather private army of sorts at his disposal, he could have them put the beasts down. But his forces although it reached well over a hundred strong, the four with him were the only ones for hundreds of miles. The rest of his underlings were in various towns and cities in over a dozen countries on three continents doing his bidding. Drakon didn’t feel like having to gather new underlings. That and Drakon doubted that the locals would want to find an empty graveyard. He would probably gather a few, but best not to be seen walking around with an army of walking corpses; at least not until he had learned more about the areas views on magic, Necromancy in particular.

There was many a patron who looked like they would be good traveling companions. Listening carefully he barely overheard the barmaid mention something about the caravan to a young woman, who almost immediately took flight. Shortly after a Drow came in and sat down. Drakon looked at the man carefully. Drakon recognized the Drow as someone who had been known as a rather infamous mercenary and killer, although his name escaped him. Drakon had made it a bit of hobby of keeping track of anyone that could come after him, knowing who could be the one coming after a price on your head or a rare artifact on your person, could mean the difference between surviving the encounter and being buried with the dead. After hearing about the girl the Drow to took off, presumably to try and catch up with her.

Drakon was never one to miss an opportunity. While not one to particularly enjoy conversations with the living, they would be a great deal of help; the two didn’t exactly look like pushovers. Even if they were to be nothing more than Orc blade fodder they could prove to be useful. Drakon downed the last of his drink, grabbed his staff and he too took flight. His four ‘men’ following in tow, moving like children’s clockwork toys; which was always peculiar to Drakon as in a fight they were quick and agile. Though only those paying particular attention would notice anything off about the four armored figures movements.

Drakon slowed down as he saw the Drow catch up to the woman and begin talking. Drakon would’ve preferred to make himself silent and join in at the right time, but the noise of four 'men' suited in armor moving in sync was not a quiet one.

Green who was currently in control of Sonic's body, was sitting the table in the bar alone drinking her 9th pint of ale hearing the stories and conversations of others, hearing a very interesting one about Seegert's Caravan being attacked by Orc's this peaked Green's interest. The others though didn't care that much until Shadow one of the male personality's of Sonic heard that there was a large loot, though the other still didn't care much about it.

Green's thought it through 'What do you think children?' she thought, 'Personally, I think its a waste of time.' Silver said within their mind, 'It be good to kill time.' Shadow suggested, ' Then its up to you Sonic.' Green thought, 'Then let's goooo~~' Sonic concluded. Green smirked standing up, leaving a gold coin to the bartender to pay for her drinks, she headed outside; where Sonic took over, the 21 year old green haired woman shrunk into a blue haired 12 year old girl.

Strapping on her straight jacket, her hands being bound behind her as if she was supposed to be in a mad house, Sonic slightly skipped towards the direction of the man who was followed by four other robed 'men' each carrying a shield and a sword. "Do you mind me accompanying you Mister?" the blue haired girl said catching up to the 5 men. Already in her mind there was a discussion about talking to strangers which Green did not approve in Sonic's case, but she nagged the feeling off.

Drakon’s ‘men’ acted first, spinning around their plate mail clanking as they drew swords. Drakon too spun around to find himself staring at a child. He had to blink a few times to be sure he wasn’t imaging it. Standing there was a small child who appeared around ten, she stood quite short with blue hair.

“Come on you four, I poured more than enough magic in you to know a real threat. Blades away, tis but a child,” Drakon hissed. He had no problem killing a full grown man or woman, but children were off limits.

The four slid their blades back into their sheaths before straightening up and standing like statues.

“I apologize for my companions… dedication. They prefer to hurt people first and… well actually they don’t ever ask questions,” Drakon said with a chuckle.

“Now then, where are your parents young one… Why are dressed in that, child?” Drakon asked curiously, he had taken notice that the small blue haired child was dressed in a strait jacket, “and aren’t you a little young to be adventuring, or wearing a strait jacket for that matter?”

This had Drakon stumped. Here was a child with blue hair dressed in a strait jacket. The colored hair was an oddity as far as he knew. He hadn’t heard about children needing to be locked up in mad houses which were numbered few and far in-between. That and as far as he knew this area had no place to keep such… oddities. Some places let the mad run free; others put them to death, a sort of mercy killing.

Slightly stepping back as then men started to draw their blades, "Scary~" Sonic mumbles, then the man stared asking questions it was fine Sonic didn't mind but she slightly frowned at the first question about her parents. "I don't have parents...." Sonic said looking down at her feet, bu the cheered up "I wear this because it make me feel comfortable, and the others like it too." Sonic said with her normal smile.

"I've grown accustomed to be adventuring, and the straight jacket I like it it makes me feel 'at peace'." Sonic said, and it was true the straight jacke made her more confident for which ever the reason even her other personality agree it helps keep "Him" at bay. She looked at the four armed men then at the other one "Just so you know I'm no mad or anything like that...." Sonic said puffing out her cheeks.

'Though said you where.' Shadow said within her mind moments after he felt the bare fist of Green to his head 'Don't say that.' Green said in their mind.

Sonic slightly chuckled, "So? Do you mind my accompanying you? By the way my name's Sonic." Sonic said.

Lamya had been taking her long sly and quiet steps while the people around stared at her, she ignored their glares as she always had but this time someone was approaching her. She wasn't used to having people follow her so she gripped her knife handle ready to defend herself then she hear the clanging of heavy armor also coming close.

I can't even walk in the streets without being disturbed! Lamya couldn't believe it.

When the person who had been following her touched her shoulder, Lamya took a leap away holding her knife at eye level warning the . . . DROW! not to approach. What did a Drow want with her? She also noticed a man dressed like a dark magician followed by four armored men who seemed to want to speak with her as well but had his attention pulled toward a blue haired child. Lamya took into consideration all of her surroundings but mostly focused on the Drow.

"What do you want?" Asked Lamya as she tried to remember all of the people she threw into jail or to death but she never remembered a job involving a Drow, "Have I met you before? Or have I ever thrown you into prison?"

Drakon shook his head. Usually not one for conversations it was hard not to talk excessively when the one you talked with had so much to say and ask.
“Well child, I am parentless too,” Drakon said with a crooked grin. He had no real feelings about his parent’s deaths. If anything theirs deaths had allowed him to become the master of the dark arts he was.

“I don’t think I will ever get children,” Drakon mumbled shaking his head. How a child would find a strait jacket comfortable. Although it could be possible that the child found solace in her strait jacket in the same way Drakon found his peace in his robes.

“Child, no one said you were mad. Only the insane and crazed are put in those… homes,” Drakon said shaking his head.
He knelt down in front of the child, “I must apologize young one. Despite what others may think, I do value some life. I cannot in good conscience,” he chuckled, as he considered what a large chunk of world viewed the ‘monstrosities’ behind him, fools and their failure to understand pure magical genius, “allow you to come with me. These are not the things of children’s stories. These are large beasts; they are masses of green flesh and bulking muscle. They hunger for blood and don’t care whom they kill, if they are bored they are known to turn on each other. They would feel nothing if they lifted you up and spun your head till it came off,” he said with a grin. He had never really been good with social norms, where a normal person might just explain that Orcs were ‘bad’; Drakon felt the need to make sure people were well informed. What point was there in knowledge if you only told someone half the story?

Drakon followed this by standing back up and stretching. Despite his young body, it always helped his old mind to stretch.

"Mister don't you think your underestimating an experienced hunter?" Sonic said with a giggle, Sonic has been alone for most of her life so she knows how to protect herself given that know she has help from her other counterparts. "I mean, I'm not as weak as I seem." Sonic then added.

"Sonic aren't you getting ahead of yourself?" Shadow said within their mind, "Nope!" Sonic thought, and only a small laugh erupted from Green, "Sonic you know, it just about time for you to take a nap you haven't slept in a day." Green added in a mental note.

Sonic smiled, "Well I'm sorry Mister my times almost up, I have about 5 minutes." Sonic said then she saw it, a butterfly flew by her eyes she stared at it before she tried and grabbed it with her mouth, after a few chomps the butterfly ran away upwards, "Darn..." Sonic mumbles returning to the robed man.

Drakon chuckled at the small blue hair child. Of course he had heard of child assassins, but those were children that had been trained since they could walk. Than and they didn't start 'working' until they were around fourteen, fifteen. So he couldn't see this... odd child as a killer, at least, not one with experience.

He was very well aware that the child didn't have to be as weak as she seemed. Unless she was magically gifted, and she didn't appear to be.

"I didn't say you were weak child, just that someone like you would not fare well against the evil denizens of the mountains."

This child was one of the weirdest things he had come by in years. Almost as weird as the Ork that tried tricking him to leave a road by holding a large chunk of rock with a crude person painted on it. The Ork had called in it gruff voice that there was 'humies trapped unda a waggin,' and they 'needed a humie with shiny t'ings on 'is arms and the shiny bits in his flappy t'ing,' Drakon of course just chuckled before he magically flayed the beast alive. The cries of death attracted the rest of the beasts, as they charged out Drakon began heaving balls of dark energy killing several. The beasts were still coming until he magically lifted the largest one in air and ripped it in half. Blood and gore showering down on the others. Realizing their big bad boss was now in two large chunks, they fled, that didn't stop Drakon from finishing off the stragglers with more dark magic.

"What do you mean five minutes," Drakon asked, "five minutes until..." he was going to continue until the odd child began trying to eat a butterfly mid flight.

"You are quite an odd one child," Drakon said, and this was coming from a man who preferred the quiet of the dead and undead to living breathing company. Unless of course it was a mage, he could talk for hours with a fellow magic user. If the situation called for he could also talk for a while with a normal person, such as now, well maybe normal isn't the right word.

Vania was having trouble dealing with this new feeling that was growing within her. It felt like little ice worms were eating at her stomach, and the feeling only grew worse every time she looked across the table at her brother.

Vania leaned back into her chair; this was not good. Her new ‘form’ was not only weak but it was eating itself as well. She took a sip of her now warm pint of mead and tried distracting herself by listening more closely to the tale of the coward. The tale, which seemed true, had piqued her interest. The only thing of concern was that the Mok'nathal, the Orcs of Oshu'gun, did not often venture forth from their home deep within the mountain.

One of the oldest breed of Orcs, the Mok'nathal have stayed isolated within the shadow of Death Mountain for most of their existence. Because of this, they are different from any other Orc. Larger than most Orcs, their skin is black as the night and have horns protruding from their head. Being branded heretics for their worship of the dead and demons of the spirit world they are not welcome at any formal meetings of Orcs. The worship of the dead and spirits is something that is grossly insulting to what is held sacred by other Orcs and their gods.

She looked across the table at Farod, her brother, who was by all appearance either in deep thought or pray. It seemed to Vania that he was always in pray, or at least he was when he was not busy prodding her with questions.

“Farod, tell me, what do you think of the ragurs tale?”

Farod chuckled; he knew that the man’s story would have irritated Vaanak. “He’s alive is he not? That is more than anyone else in the caravan can say.”

“Do not be stupid Farod, the dead cannot talk. The Mok'nathal are cowards, do not often go near the roads. A smaller tribe attacked the caravan then and most likely did not bring it back to one their dam caves. We will go retrieve it.”The pain in Vania’s stomach sharpened at the word ‘we’.

“Though we do need have a need of the coin, and you have fought the Mok'nathal before, the Oshu'gun is not a place to venture by oneself.”

“I said we did I not? You will be needed to help carry the treasure back brother.” Once again the pain rose in Vania’s stomach. She seemed the pain was caused by her brother, this was troubling.

“Do not be a fool Van, we will go in a group; I overheard the bartender telling a few others about the treasure. They should be outside the Inn, and we should hurry before they leave.”

With that Farod swiftly got up and started walking outside the inn, with a grumbling Vania behind him. She did not argue, for the idea was a good one and the pain lessened in her stomach because of it. They soon spotted a man in dark robes surrounded by four armed men talking with a little blue hair girl. Vania decided to once again regain control of the situation and to be the one who approaches them.

“Humans!” bellowed Vania, and then upon realizing her mistake she quickly changed her tone and wording to ‘fellow humans’. “You are going after the treasure in the mountains?”

Drakon's 'men' reacted before he did. Of course he had sensed a magical energy approaching before he saw anyone. His minions had drawn blades and formed a wall, ready to advance and kill on a whim. Of course the offer of two beings to assist him in his current objectives was too good to pass up. Ordering them back into formation he silenced the odd blue haired child and took a step forward.

He was sure that if his 'men' still had loins they would be alight. Although he was only looking for a partner of magical talent, he found himself oddly intoxicated with the woman before him. He felt some form of magic at play, although he could not be sure, he was only well versed in death, fire and earth magic. If there was some sort of spell to increase ones attractiveness he was sure it was at play now, for this woman seemed to radiate light and beauty. He forced such unnecessary thoughts to the back of his mind.

His eyes quickly were drawn to a trinket that was around her neck. He could feel magical energies radiate from it. How she got ahold he couldn't be sure, it felt like rare artifact indeed, although it did not look to be of value. Had she sold her body to acquire it from an unknowing peasant? Magical artifacts were always worth huge sums of money. Although with her looks she could be a noble. But if he remembered correctly, and he did, she was in the lanky tavern he had come from. Questions and possible answers swirled in his head, his entire thought process taking place in less than two seconds.

"My name is Drakon," he said with a slight bow, "these are my companions, their names do not matter," they had once had names, but that was also back when their lung still held air and not dust.

"I would be honored if you and your friend accompanied me and my escort. I was just about to ask the two in conversation behind me," he motioned towards the Drow and the woman, whom were around thirty or so paces away.

"I am ready to leave as soon as you are," Drakon stated, "although I do have one thing I need to take care of."

Of course it was that we was at a crossroads with the small child. He might enjoy his line of work, he had no problem with killing and maiming whether it helps his research or not. He held a single part of his old humanity for children, for it was the man who spared his life that allowed him to be the master of magic he is now. He would gladly spend a few moments of his time or a few coins if it opened a chance for future generation of magic users.

Although he was aware the child seemed to hold no magical abilities, chances were she had a wizard somewhere in her family tree, if she settled down with a magic user, chances were she would birth a child with magical ability. Of course that was mainly wishful thinking, but even one versed in the dark arts could use a bit of that every now and then; even if that was usually while trying to bring a grotesque mockery of humanity to life, but that's a story for a different time.

The robed mans ‘men’ seemed to react upon an unsaid command. They’re movements were most interesting; the unit moved to what appeared to be as one. They had the precision of clockwork, something Vania had never before encountered. Her suspicions were aroused.

Drakon as he introduced himself seemed to be some person of power. The black hood that covered most of his face made him appear more mysterious then Vania would have liked. Even with his robes on he appeared frail and weak. Vania had to remind herself that one does not have to be physically adept to be dangerous. He was most likely a mage of some sort; hence the interesting armed guards. She assumed the little girl with blue hair that was standing by him was his apprentice.

Taking a step towards Drakon, Vania took a deep breath. She let the smells of the group sort themselves in her mind, waiting for something familiar to arise. The strongest smell was that of dead bodies, it seemed to come from Drakon’s men.

In most Orc societies the body after death is considered useless. Corpses are looked upon as insignificant husks, an empty reminder of the individual who use to reside in them. Thus they are afforded no special treatment and are disposed in whatever manner is most practical.

It was most likely that they had recently been robbing graves, but she wasn't sure; something about Drakon’s men made her feel uneasy. She pushed the thought from her head. The black robed man had in his company four well armed men; making him an excellent companion for retrieving the treasure. If he was indeed a mage then he could be more help still.

Vania clumsily bowed back, she was not yet use to all the formalities other races had for each other and was tired of standing around talking. "I am Vania; we have bags back at the Inn we must retrieve before setting out. We will return shortly, I will let you deal with the others."

Drakon returned her bow. He noticed the woman wrinkle her nose, she was most perceptive. He thought he had managed to strip the last of the rotting flesh from his 'men'. But the scent of death probably remained on the darkened bone. The chances she was able to realize so quickly he was a necromancer was slim. It was obvious to all but the most addled minds he was a magic user of some breed. This women and her... friend? Were a couple of interesting characters.

"I shall accompany you back to the inn. I should return my key and gather my meager possensions as well.

Drakon peered over his shoulder, "if you will excuse me for a moment. You go on ahead"

Walking back over to the child and producing a small bag of coins and tossing it to her.

"Do with it what you wish, find a warm place to sleep, get a hot meal. I would advise attempting to find a job. For a little while I was a street urchin. The pay is miniscule but it puts food in ones belly," without further words he turned and headed back towards the inn.

His soul felt a hint lighter at the deed. He helped some dirty little oddball of a child and he might even have aided in helping a future wizard see the lights of the lands. His thoughts quickly shifted, he could use another pint of mead.