Scattered Embers: Flames Rekindled (story)

[Aqua-chan]

While under the watchful eye of her totem bear Amara slept. Though the sun was only barely in the West the strain of the day had taken a great toll on the druid, forcing her to seek a series of concealing trees at which she could drop her guard. She nestled herself away as best she could, all the while knowing full well that her sleep would be restless because of the inevitable nightmares. There was no avoiding it, however, and so the human forced the fear from her mind and dared herself to brave closing her eyes.

And just as she had expected the dreams came to cloud her rest.

It was she, Sytze, the rotted corpse of Blackoak and the druids of the Grove, gathered all about a pile of smoldering orc bodies. Except that the bodies were not lifeless - the Black Orcs, stacked a mile high and burning, gazed about the surrounding druids blankly. Their red eyes darted to and fro, blinking periodically but giving away no indication that they felt their incineration or that they had intention to get up.They just looked around pointlessly.

Prying her stare away from the burning orcs Amara looked over to her companion, Sytze. He was standing next to her with a satisfied grin upon his face at seeing the monsters' defeat. It would have been more settling had his throat not been bleeding profusely, probably from some slash of an assassin's blade, but for some inexplicable reason Amara did not feel that this was out of the ordinary. In her dream it was easy to accept the fact that the practical stranger was a walking dead-man. Perhaps it was because he was a walking dead-man in the daytime, too.

Picking through the anonymous faces of familiar druids that were likely all murdered by now and the eyeless, animated corpse of Blackoak Amara saw, towards the very back of the group, a man who did not belong in the sequence. He seemed very familiar with a stupid, sideways grin that made Amara want to laugh, and in his arms was a moving bundle. Amara strained to see it.

With a cackling meow the bundle shifted in the man's arms, and once the druid was able to see it better she realized her old friend was holding an atrociously ugly cat. The cat's yellow eyes peirced through her coldly, much like the red ones of the orcs in the fire. Then Amara awoke.


The massive, hulking black bear was sprawled in the carpet of leaves next to Amara, aware of her peril but knowing it could not assist her. Human greif and tears were not the same as animal grief, the beast knew, and while it would try to provide company it did not have the means to provide Amara with comfort. When the young druid hugged the bristly black body of the bear the animal did not move, allowing her to weep into its thick fur.

"I don't know where he is," she said tiredly. The bear couldn't discern whether she was using human speech or telepathy express her feelings. "I can't get through this by myself. Please, friend... Carry me to Windhaven swiftly. I... I must find BS."

[The Z]

The blow shattered his arm and his world. Stars danced before his eyes and blood seeped from his gaping maw. Unabated, he still fought onwards, partly from desperation and partly from the raw, animalistic rage that swelled within any orc. No mere man would ever best him; it was a pact he’d made with himself. No mere mortal would ever best him; he’d sooner take his own life than fall to another’s hand. That was what had made him dangerous. Of his many fears, death was not one of them. His God would raise him up because of his many successful forays into the fight.

Another assault nearly decapitated him as he drew a two-handed sword – one-handed. It was swung in a wide arc and his foe was forced to backpedal. Wildly, almost randomly he feinted and struck. So vicious and quick were his attacks, however, that his opponent could do naught but retreat more and more; and, soon enough, the hulking warrior herded him into a wall. The human smiled and sheathed his sword, knowing he was defeated.

“I taught you well, half-orc.”

His prodigy spat blood and glared vehemently.

“On your knees, wretch. I will grant you the right to be finished honorably by human standards.”

Their eyes met for the last time. The mentor slowly lowered himself to the ground – and disappeared into a veil of bright light. The half-orc howled and attacked blindly only to shatter his sword against the cold brick wall. He’d failed. Again.

“One day I will have my revenge! One day you’ll suffer for your transgressions against orc-kind! You and the Dark Flames will perish at my behest!” he screamed

[Sytze]

He had given up running, it all seemed so trivial right now. He had lost his life, lost his friends, lost his love, lost his home. Everything. He had even jeopardized the life of a friendly druid, a woman who had absolutely nothing to do with his own troubles. Sytze wondered who he had become. Just a shell of his former self, perhaps? Or was there still something worth saving, to cherish and fight for? He did not know and wondered if he even cared.

He had stopped running. If he wanted to survive this, he’d best pick his own field of battle. But did he want to survive it all? Sytze sighed wryly, how on earth would he approach his former friends?

It was another question he could not answer and that nagged at him from the inside. The indecisiveness, the uncertainty, it played with him like the wind with a small leaf, tossed him from side to side until he didn’t know anymore what was up and what was down. Was there still a right course? he asked himself.

He had stopped running, for the time had come to sort it all out and let life run its course. It was time for the confrontation of his life! He looked up into the twilight of day. The sun was nearly gone, but the moon already showed its face while countless stars popped up in the sky, seducing, yet ever so untouchable. It was an immensely beautiful sight that inspired him and filled him with hope. This was such a beautiful forest. Massive, yet also so comforting and engaging, Sytze thought.

He hopped from tree to tree, making no hearable sounds as he brushed against the leaves and twigs, he was as silent as Amara’s hawk drifting on the winds above his head. Then he stopped, for he had been running and jumping in a complete circle. He had scouted the perimeter, checked every tree he would move through, tested every branch for its strength and tried to anticipate as many variables as he could. In the centre he would confront Arkanis and whomever joined the assassin on his faithful hunt.

He had laid a few well-placed and equally deadly traps, and now checked his precious and trusted katana and dagger. How he loved his weapons. His katana, a blade crafted more beautifully than any he had ever seen, had guided him through more battles than he could count and had saved his life and ended those of others more often than he would ever wish to think of. Its fine blade was as sharp and strong as a dragon’s tooth, while the hilt, black as night with blood red lines, spoke of inner powers and enchantments.

And then there was his dagger. Equally beautiful, equally enchanted and equally, if not more so, exotic. It had two blades instead of one. One was placed as it would normally be, while the other protected the wielder’s hand and could be used to deflect blows, as well slit through an opponent’s body as if it were mere butter. Arkanis had affectionally called it the ‘slice and dice’ dagger for its ability to hit anyone from almost any direction. It brought a grin to Sytze’s face every time he thought about it. There was just one downside to the oriental weapon, however: throwing it was a near impossible task. But that didn’t bother the rogue, for he had enough of those hidden under his cloak, belt and many more places.

“Lets get this over with,” Sytze whispered sorrowful to nothing and the whole world at the same time. “If this is what they want, then so be it.”

He sheathed his weapons, gently caressed his fingers over his quiver to check how many arrows he had, and swung his favourite bow off his back. Let the chaos ensue! he said to himself, invoking courage. Yet, deep inside, he knew it was hopeless, that he would be fighting a losing battle. Arkanis was no fool, nor a novice at battle, and neither were his companions. If he shot just one arrow, they would know where he was and would be sending daggers and arrows in his direction before he had shot a second. He would be greeting a whirlwind of sharp objects if he would let his location known.

He shifted uncomfortably on a branch high in the tree. He needed help, he realised. Was it perhaps wrong to send Amara in another direction, away from him and the trouble that haunted his life? No, never that, he told himself confidently, firmly. That his own life was ruined didn’t mean he could drag an innocent along with him.

A high-pitched scream far up in the air threw Sytze from his contemplation. Amara’s hawk was now flying high above his head, apparently warning him about the dangers coming his way. Sytze grimaced, there was no escape now, he would die here and he would make sure this would be his grave, his final resting place. He made a silent vow then and there that he wouldn’t be brought back to Athkatla to serve as a trophy, whether he was dead or alive. How he was going to pull that off was a good second, but he would make it up as he went.

Another scream drew his attention, Arkanis was near. And then it hit him, as solid as if a giant would’ve thrown a boulder straight in his face. His help was flying right above his head! Hadn’t Amara told him that her summoned animals possessed an intelligence far surpassing those of normal animals of it’s kind? And didn’t it understand human tongue as well as any other human? A thought, an idea, a plan! flickered deep inside Sytze’s mind. Now, if only he could draw the hawk’s attention without making too much noise, for his old friends were obviously near. He looked up and saw the bird of prey circling right above his head. He grabbed an arrow, put it on his bow, and aimed high. The arrow flew, piercing the very air it flew through, until it drove right past the hawk, missing the bird but just a few inches. The bird startled, almost lost the draft it was drifting on, and finally looked down to check where the deadly projectile had come from.

There he was, the rogue Amara had bade it to follow, crouching stealthily in one of the highest trees the forest held, while waving his hands for the hawk to come closer. But there was more, the hawk saw with its sharp eyes. He was whispering, but the bird couldn’t hear the words, because they were carried away by the winds themselves. It dove down, with a speed equal to the by now descending arrow. It dove, faster and faster, steeper and steeper, until it landed on Sytze’s outstretched arm where it could sit comfortably, relaxing its wings from the long flight. Barely a second later the same arrow whistled past and drove itself in the three just a few inches from the archer himself. He didn’t even flinch, knew perfectly well how he had shot and how the wind would affect his arrow’s flight.

Sytze saw the beautiful bird in front of him and would’ve liked to examine it closer if only he wasn’t so pressed for time. He coughed, unsure how to begin this ridiculous plan, then eyed the hawk, equalling its piercing stare. “I need your help, friend of Amara,” he began, whispering softly, but he almost burst out in laughter speaking the words. He was talking to a bird, for crying out loud! What kind of fool was he?

The hawk cocked its head curiously, unsure of what this rogue was thinking. Unlike with Amara, it had no telepathic connection with this man.

Sytze managed to control himself, though, for he reminded himself that this little creature was his only chance of surviving this whole ordeal, no matter how strange and alien that thought seemed. First things first, however, he needed to know if the hawk understood him.

“Please,” he began again, but the tone in his voice was a bit uncertain, “if you understand me, give me a sign you do.”

The hawk understood. It flapped its left wing, almost hitting the rogue square in the face, then folded it away just as easy and fast. Sytze’s eyes widened, knowing that the hawk obviously understood his words. But that hadn’t surprised him most. Was that near hit a subtle payback for the arrow he had shot at the bird? Sytze wondered. Because if so, then that was a clear sign of a remarkable, unearthly intelligence.

Again, he hadn’t the time to think about it. He heard footsteps, soft and gentle ones, yet clearly hearable to the rogue’s sensitive and well-trained ears. The city born thieves were having trouble using their skills to their full potential in the forest, Sytze knew.

Sytze shook his head shortly and eyed the hawk. “Listen up, my beautiful friend,” he said sharply, but his voice was barely louder than the rustling leaves around him. “I need your help, but it might very well leave you killed. So fly away if you do not like the prospect of helping me or ending up dead.” His tone had changed, was now warm and caring, and his eyes spoke of an inner concern, even affection.

The bird stayed put and Sytze nodded thankfully.

“Then this is what we’ll do…”

[Aqua-chan]

For the umpteenth time the black bear stopped in her tracks and bounced gently to keep the sleeping Amara from rolling right off her back. Lifelessly the druid hung on top of the beast's wide bones.

The bear, who's name was actually Shukha, 'humphed' lowly and continued to manipulate Amara's center of gravity before she landed face first in the dirt. Wouldn't that be a pleasant way to wake up?

Shukha, the inheritantly maternal summoning of Amara's totem, had clearly expressed her concerns with the druid wasting her energy like she was. The human could keep her animal friends on the Prime Material indefinately if necessary, but it was at the expense of her own power. For the most part having one summoned creature out was unharmful to Amara, but now she was supporting the existance of three. The impact of that much feeding off her energy had left Amara in a state of unconscienceness.

Without Sorrothos guiding the party Amara had to call her spirit wolf, Biacthic, to scout ahead for orcs and settlements. Every so often Biacthic would return to Shukha, who was struggling to make any progress with Amara falling left and right, and together the bear and wolf would argue about what path to follow. For an outside unfamiliar with totem animals it probably would have been most amusing to see a bear and wolf 'argue' through barks, growls and roars. For the bear and wolf, however, the situation was not amusing at all.

"I'm telling you, we're headed too far south!" came the telepathic complaining of Biacthic as he drifted in from the concealment of the woods. Shukha shook her massive head with annoyance.

"You're here as a scout, not a compass, wolf," she reminded him once more. Biacthic padded over to her staunchly, and even though he was much smaller than Shukha he still had an aura of strength that kept his ground.

"It doesn't matter. If we don't get her to that city soon the two of us are just going to be a funeral procession."

"This is ridiculous!" 'said' the she-bear testily, "We can't charge on blindly like this. At this rate she'll be dead before the two of us can figure out which way is up."

The wolf sat on his haunches and cocked his head, glancing at the limp human body of Shukha's back. What then? Should you return to your totem to conserve her energy? I can keep scouting, but I don't even smell humans anywhere around here."

"No, then she would be left unprotected, and if you encounter trouble the smarter orcs will know you're a summoning. We'll have to continue on like this, she stated resolutely, frustrated at the absurdness of it all. Sorrothos had always been the navigator for Amara, leaving the other four rusty with the practice. As the saying goes, you don't know what's you've got until it's gone. "Come on. Let's keep going before the foolish girl feeds us to her death."

"I'm not foolish," came the nearly incoherrent interjection from Shukha's back. Biacthic 'grinned' at Amara slighly.

"You're not foolish at all, tired one. Perhaps a more fitting word would be 'unwise'."

"Indeed," agreed Shukha as Amara straightened herself on the bear. Just what possessed you to send Sorrothos with that stranger friend of yours, anyway? You could very well lose your spirit hawk today because of your carelessness."

"Sytze is our ally and friend whom I am not going to let die in the woods by himself, and I'm sure Sorrothos would appreciate the vote of confidence in his combat skills," mummbled the druid aloud. She was using her common speech rather than telepathy to try and show that she was alright. "How long have we been travelling?"

"Very slowly for too long. The wolf couldn't sniff out a human in a treeless valley."

"Oh, and your keen sense of direction has kept us from wandering in circles for the past day and a half."

"Enough, children."

The two animals ended their bickering abruptly upon the command. Amara scrubbed her eyes with her dirty palms and inhaled heavily, still strattling Shukha. It was about noon with the telling of the sun and there was a lot of ground to be covered if it was possible. Amara found her cache of maps and began weeding through the protected parchments gingerly, searching for an appropriate regional map.

"Hold on," said Biacthic, standing suddenly and looking over to their left, "Something's coming this way."

"What is it?" Shukha demanded.

"It reeks of... of alcohal, I think. And apples. Oh, that smell! It's a horse; it must be a horse."

Just in case, Amara slid off Shukha and took cover in some brush while the wolf and bear, combat ready, waited tensely for signs of movement. Eventually the steady, distinct sound of an equine trampling twigs and dirt broke the uneasy silence that hung over the trio. Metal pings rang off the rocks, indicating that the newcomer was shoed and domesticated. Amara clutched her totem, completely devoid of the energy necessary to call her snake and lion but entirely willing to try it.

Eventually the thick veil of branches broke apart, revealing a large, dark horse. It was saddled but seemed to lack a rider. The horse started at the sight of two fanged predators that had seemed to come from nowhere and whinnied in a panic. Then the horse to an offensive fight-or-flee stance, illiciting a fearsome snarl from Biacthic.

Before any conflict could erupt, however, the tension was cut by a very happy druid running right between the three hostile animals.

"Cobalt!" Amara yelled gleefully, dashing up to the somewhat confused horse and threw her arms around his neck.

Biacthic and Shukha looked at eachother, confounded. It was funny to see their vicious expressions fade into ones of complete bafflement.

"It's alright, it's alright," the druid assured her companions before turning back to the horse, "Cobalt, what are you doing alone way out here?"

If horses could shrug indifferently then that's what Cobalt did. "We're not very far from Windhaven, Gorgeous: only a couple of miles to the Northeast, actually. A day's trip."

"Told you we were going to far south," Biacthic 'said' to Shukha, who preceeded to hit the indignant wolf with a large, unavoidable paw.

Cobalt continued, Some howdy-do's in Windhaven were going on about how orcish legions were forming in these forests so we decided to check it out."

"And where is the other you that makes your 'we'?" asked Amara with a widening grin on her face. Cobalt shook with mirth in his eyes.

"I bucked my human about a quarter mile back. I got sick of him ranting about some dream he had about attending witchcraft classes in a secret school. I thought he could stand to walk it off. He was driving me up the stable walls, I swear."

"Do you remember where you left him?" she asked anxiously.

"Vaguely. Call off your dogs and hop on, Gorgeous. It shouldn't be too hard to follow his smell back to 'em," the horse half-joked.

[Bloodstalker]

Bloodstalker walked with the air of a man who had been wronged deeply by one of his closest friends. To compound things, he also carried himself in a way as to communicate that he really should have expected this in the first place. He'd let his pride make him break one of the cardinal rules of the trail, which was never go to bed with bad feelings between you and your horse. It was a big rule too, ranking right up there with always know which plants are safe and which can cause a rash. And he had broken it.

And now he was suffering the inconvenience of tracking his own horse. This would be bad enough had he had to do so without the hangover. Of course, even that wouldn;t have been too bad but Cobalt had decided to run in a direction that caused BS to have to squint directly into the morning sun. Typical, he thought. Cobalt was an evil genius.

He'd managed to only stumble a couple times in between mumbled curses and empty but vigorous threats to contact the closest glue merchant as soon as they reached civilization again and be done with the damned thing once and for all. It was just as well the threats were empty anyway, as Cobalt would likely have made thin, runny glue just to spite BS and make him pay the merchant back with interest for wasted time.

Topping the latest rise, BS paused and scanned the area before him. What he saw literally would have made his jaw drop had it not already been open in a string of profanity that trailed off as his mind registered what he saw before him. He blinked. Then he rubbed his eyes, looked, and blinked again. His entire focus shifted immediately. No longer was he irritated at waking up to find himself on foot. Now he was irritated because someone else was riding his horse while he walked. Squinting harder against the suns glare, he couldn't make out specifics, only a human shape on the back of Cobalt. He knew better than to think someone had stolen his horse since Cobalt sincerely didn't like most people and made no bones about showing it. No, if someone was riding Cobalt that meant Cobalt let them. That only meant one thing. His damned horse was a traitor.

BS set about circling his way to get close to the horse and rider. His only thought were along the lines of "Damned ungrateful beast" and "Nobody's taking my horse without a fight" echoing in stark contrast to his earlier musings about the glue works. whoever it was had better not have fed Cobalt apples of there would be Hell to pay.

Working his way into position wasn't difficult. There were those in the north who would swear to any god you cared to name that BS was the closest thing to a wild beast in the woods when it came to tracking his prey that there was. The would also tell you that his single minded focus on the hunt was what made him so unervingly silent and swift. Of course, those same people probably wouldn't have known that BS was currently tracking a druid who just happened to have a couple of animal companions nearby. If you told them that, they likely would have looked around slightly embarrassed before suddenly hearing their wife calling them and then slipping away to a temple to find out how to get out of an oath to a god. It would likely involve a lot of coin.

As it was, BS had crept to a point just ahead of the traitor and was settling himself in for the final closing sprint. He figured he only had a mment or two before they came aroung the bend and into both view and range. He was quite satisfied with himself when he heard the growl.

One simple thing to know about BS. He doesn't like growling, especially when it comes from behind him in the woods. Turning his head, his eyes widened to inhuman proportions. Of all the things in the realms it had to be this one didn't it?

The bear stared at him for a few seconds, giving BS enough time to compose himself and save the trouble of drying out a pair of good pants. The bear made no movement toward him for the moment, so BS decided to try and slink away. He started to move just as he heard Cobalt near the bend in the road and made the mistake of turning and taking a step towards the sound. The bear roared suddenly, BS looked around again, took one more step and could have sworn he heard the bear say something akin to "bugger that" before launching himself at BS.

Besides being absolutly terrified of bears, BS also appreciated their deceptive speed. This was likely the result of the beast crossing the distance between them, knocking BS to the ground, and effectivly straddling him in a matter of seconds. He forced his mind to think, and a stray thought told him to try and make friends.

Smiling his most charming smile, BS looked up into the bears face and spoke. "Nice bear. Good bear. Want an apple?"

The bear roared again, seemily insulted. The stray voice in BS's mind pointed at him and laughed while calling him an idiot for falling for that one. BS reminded himself to kick his inner selfs ass is he ever got out of this. Then another idea came to him. Of course, all he had to do was play dead.

rolling his eyes back in his head, BS shuddered violently, grasped his heart, let out a low moan and lay back on the ground at a most dramatic angle.

The bear snorted as much as it was possible for a bear to snort. BS cracked an eye. The bear tossed his head and made a noise BS was thought sounded suspiciously like "ham".

"Hey now, no cause for criticism. You think you can do better, go ahead. Drop dead and prove it"

The bear nudged his head with it's paw in admonishment. BS was shocked he knew that word. He'd have to work it into his vocabulary more. First thing on the list after "Not wind up as lunch"

Cobalts steps came to a stop and he heard a familiar neighing. It figure he would find this funny.

Craning his head as far as possible to make sure his last breaths were spent wisely in cursing his horse, BS's jaw dropped open as he saw the rider. Everything fell into place. Of all the ways he could have envisioned a reunion, this would have been the one he would have never contemplated. It would also likely have been the most probable.

He grinned cockily up at AC, well, as cocky as his current position allowed and nodded his head in the direction of the bear. "It's good to see you again. I'd get up, but well, you know how it is."

[The Z]

Erudish’s eyes flew open, pain long departed from his body. Sighing he flipped himself upright – being weightless in a sheltered world had some advantages. Nonetheless, his predicament seemed inescapable. Unless he could somehow extract the keys to his new environment from the jail’s custodian (which appeared to be a hopeless endeavor), he’d have to get used to never being able to battle or fight again. That was not an option, but it was slowly becoming a reality.

There had never been a time when his destiny had seemed uncontrollable or out of hand. When he was at war, with one, well-placed stroke of his axe, he could change the outcome of everything. With the right words, he could manipulate his lesser ‘brothers’ to do his bidding. But those same lesser brothers had staged a coup and he’d lost his legion and his life. A dream could be shattered and the soul swallowed in the emotional fallout. When a dream is close to fruition and it’s shattered before your very eyes, it’s akin to being resurrected without your legs…if you’re human.

For Erudish, it simply added more embers to the raging inferno that had long consumed him. Fate, throughout his life, had dealt blow after blow and each time the warrior had gotten out of the dirt and flailed back futilely. It seemed as though everything and everyone had pushed him back simply because of how he’d been born. Inherent nobility in a race was a fallacy reserved for hypocrites – the worst kind of liar. He’d been left to claw out of his hole and every time he got to the top, the dirt broke and he’d fall back to the bottom. Despite the constant anger, the persistence of his need to destroy the injustice, he’d hit a wall. There was no way over, through or around it. Truly, his Gods had abandoned him.

He closed his eyes and let eternity float him across his brave new world.

[Aqua-chan]

"What do you think, Cobalt?" asked Amara curiously, head tilted in false innocence, "Should we let the strange man up?"

The black horse whinnied, tossed his head and stamped a hoof.

"I agree. Maul him, Shukha," ordered the young druid to the massive bear, and Amara watched with a grin as Shukha let out a feirce roar right into BS's face. Especially delightful was how bear spittle flung itself onto the traveller's face.

Rather than comply with the actual rampage, however, Shukha backed off of Bloodstalker and growled lowly at Amara. Following this exchange the totemic druid nodded and called the animal spirit back to the totem - the eyes of the carved bear head glowed briefly - and the draining of Amara's energy was drastically lightened.

"Real cute stint with the bear, AC," said BS dryly, at least remembering to shoot venemous glares at Cobalt as he collected himself. The horse pretended not to notice the hostility.

"BS!" Despite her previous display Amara hopped off Cobalt in a fluid movement and dashed over to help him up. He was still sitting in the dirt, wiping bear spit from his face when she kneeled down to hug him. "It figures. Only you would let your poor, defenseless horse wander about in a dangerous forest full of hungry predators."

"Oh, I let him go. Right," sneered the warrior, but he found it within himself to give the druid a little hug back. "So, uh, aside from making laundry, what are you doing all the way out here?"

Amara just noticed how filthy her green robes had become, being splattered with mud and pitched with holes as they were. Pushing aside that thought she said, "I was heading to Windhaven to gather up Dark Flames. I had figured at least a few of the old crew had gathered there to investigate the orcs, but... Are you the only one?"

"That I know of," said BS, standing up and brushing himself off. "I didn't exactly hang around to find out, though."

"As typical to BS's style, he didn't have much planned past 'go into forest, see what orcs are doing'," sneered Cobalt.

"Well, might I suggest we go back into town, recollect ourselves and maybe share information?" offered Amara hopefully. She kind of wanted to see a city again; it had been so very long since she'd seen modern civilization and the unorthodox druid missed the fruits of it.

"Information?" BS raised an eyebrow and nudged her playfully, "What do you know about these orcs?"

In an instant Amara had dug out sheets of predicted Orcish movements on regional maps, most of them now fairly accurate as to where the monsters had based their communities. "Quite a bit, actually."

[Bloodstalker]

Bloodstalker grinned as maps began to pile before him, all scribbled with notes and numbers. Dusting himself off, he couldn't quite help the chuckle that escaped. Some things just never changed it seemed.

Amara looked up at the sound, obviously wondering what was so funny. BS just shook his head, indicating the sheets of paper. "Same old AC. I just figured that in five years you might have learned what the word vacation meant."

Amara tossed her head back. It occured to BS at that moment that maybe she had been spending too much time with Cobalt. She'd begun to pick up his mannerisms. He wondered idly if she was as prone to buck as the horse was, but decided not to ask. Instead he was brought back from his contemplations by her only slightly exasperated voice.

"Hey, someone has to keep up with things. It's not like the company I'm prone to keep ever goes into any more scouting detail than running around the woods waiting to bump into something" She replied, pointedly looking in his direction before finishing, "And my name is Amara."

BS held his hands upward in a general peace offering sort of way. A very general peace offering sort of way considering the look on his face was only slightly unbelievable repentance and his next comment was spoken in a seemingly too placating manner.

"I know you name is Amara. You've told me a dozen times. Really AC, you're becoming far to predictable."

He just grinned while she huffed indignantly and stuck her tounge out at him. He'd probably pay for it later, but it was just too tempting to fall back into familiar patterns with her. He hadn't really seen any of his DF companions in years, and had wondered what it would be like to meet up with them again. It was surprisingly easy to slip back into the teasing that had been the basis for most of their time around each other, and it was too big a relief to worry about repercussions.

A comment about it being nothing more to worry about than orcs was stifled as he looked at the maps. Amara began pointing out regions of activity and locations of strongholds. It was a little odd watching her go over things do matter of factly. He glanced up at her face as she continued explaining. She was a lot more in command of herself than she had been the last time he'd seen her. Her actions were the same, but more confident. He supposed five years of being human would have allowed her to settle into her place better than she had after the transformation. Guess some things aren't quite the same after all he mused.

"What?" Her voice startled him. He hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud. He just waved the comment off.

"Nothing. Just talking to myself. These orcs,' he continued, changing the subject," these locations and figures are up to date?"

Amara studied him for a moment before replying." Pretty much. A band or two here and there could have moved, but the major strongholds seem to stay pretty stable. Why?"

BS thought for a minute. "That's a lot of orcs. Icewind Dale is real nice this time of year. You up for a trip?"

"I really don't think running is gonna help in this one." Amara stated flatly.

BS looked up into her eyes which had gone cool. He had apparently touched a nerve. He knew not many of his companions would have understood why he had left the group those years ago, and it was the converstation he really wanted to avoid with them. Mostly because he didn't feel like hearing 'I told you so' constantly.

"I'm not running Amara. Just complaining. It's my thing. Well, that and action. He ended with a cocky grin as he turned and started toward Cobalt.

"I'm not sure we should just jump right into the middle.." AC started with concern in her voice before BS pulled the saddlebags off Cobalt and tossed them to the ground. Breaking her comment off, she looked up to meet a very amused BS smiling back at her.

"What?" he said, his voice wounded, "you thought I'd just charge right in and pray? "

"Aren't you?"

"Nah, not my style these days. I've been told the whole borderline suicidle thing was stupid. You're right, we need to get this information back to town. I thought we might rest a bit first though, unless you're in a hurry."

[The Z]

Konig Maka stepped from the portal that was rapidly dissipating behind him and continued to stride forward, seemingly unaware of the spectacular colors that exploded behind him. His steps were confident, as if he knew exactly where he was heading. The half-elf scanned the bleak and torched forest with intense eyes, which were a dazzling shade of silver. Like the night, Konig’s skin was dark and also like the night, he possessed an imposing figure, not because it was particularly large, but because the man resembled a panther – a hunter, silky, stalking the night.

Yet, the man he was searching for was a hunter as well. In fact, ‘stalker’ was in his name. But as the Trystian saying went, “we are all the hunted, because death comes for us all.” The human he was searching for was fortunate that murder was not the intention of this long and arduous journey. Something far more global and impacting brought Konig to this faraway and foreign land. An old score to settle and it’s not even mine, as usual, he thought bitterly. Inheriting a throne brought with it ancient ties, both positive and negative, that recessed deep into the halls of time.

A smell that was all too familiar snaked its way up his nostrils. Swearing and cursing his carelessness, he turned around slowly and spotted the two Black Orcs rumbling towards him.

“Halt, human!”

“I’m half-elven,” he stated icily.

“Same scum. You are to come with us. The price of resistance is death!” roared the other monstrosity, in a guttural tone that was stained with an unholy intelligence.

“Shut up.”

Konig pulled his two-shot flintlock effortlessly from its holster and squeezed the trigger sending two tiny lead balls into the first assailant’s head. While the wounded one fell backwards, the other had charged. But the half-elf had expected this and had already finished the incantations of a spell. Flames erupted from his free hand and ate the Black Orc; fire spindled from Konig’s fingers and wrapped itself around its victim, until all that remained was smoldering ash.

Surprisingly, the one who had been shot now stood and raised his sword. In a motion that was uncannily smooth, the half-elf sidestepped the heavy blow, holstered his flintlock, and drew Deacon, with his free hand. The bastard sword shimmered in the twilight, it’s magic evident to any creature that had even the slightest amount of vision. Turning away and under from another cut, Konig found a clear path for his sword and took it in a split second. The Black Orc grimaced as Deacon pierced his armor and continued onwards until the tip stuck out the back. While yanking the weapon out, the half-elf than smashed his opponent’s nose with his fist.

The warrior cleaned his blade upon the grass and sheathed it.

And so Konig Maka, King of Tryst, enters the fray in another world to settle another of my ancestors’ scores.

The King shook his head and continued onwards silently.

What a pitiful, pitiful existence I have.

[Aqua-chan]

Though it was still early in the afternoon when Amara and BS hunkered down for a break the young druid couldn't help but begin to feel like her mind was coming apart in a dizzy haze.

"You sick?" asked her partner upon noticing how she swayed on her feet.

"I haven't rested in a while, plus I'm still dishing out enough energy for two."

Amara then gave a brief rundown of what had presumably gone down at the Grove, her encounter with Sytze and the bounty on his head, and how she was still supporting one of her totem summons to assist the practical stranger. All the while BS just sort of grinned and shook his head.

"I told you, you're overworked. You really need to take a vacation. After all this nonsense-" BS waved his hand in almost all general directions, "-we should go backpacking together."

"I was reading up on a few places," mummbled the druid tiredly. Small talk, just to get away from the topic of dead companions. "I think there are a few places I'd like to go before I pass away."

"...Like?" BS prodded.

"Waterdeep, for one. My real ambition would be to get off this chunk of land altogether, though. Kara-Tur sounds nice in the books."

"Everything sounds nice in the books, AC. Just depends-"

"Amara."

"-on who wrote it. Now, you want a place really pleasing to the eye? You just got to head up to the Dale. Want somethin' to drink?"

"No, thanks. And I'm not a big fan of the cold, having lost my natural fur coat and all."

BS shrugged lightly and uncorked a bottle. From the lack of glasses it seemed he wasn't going to bother pouring it anywhere but straight to his mouth. "I think you'd like it. Real beautiful place, small towns, mostly quiet. It's your kind of dig."

"And how do you know what my kind of 'dig' is?" she asked, smiling smartly. "A lot can happen to a person in six years, partner. People change."

"True," he conceeded unfalteringly, "But just because you change you name doesn't mean you've reinvented yourself."

"Oh, come off it, already." Feeling a bit irritated by his unintentional returning to the subject of her life at the Grove, Amara crossed her arms stoutly and leaned back against the dead oak.

"Members of the Dark Flame died fighting the Abomination, AC," retorted BS with equally growing contempt, "And your high and mighty Faldorn condemns us all for putting an end to it! What is so special about her that makes you value her opinion more than you do the memory of your dead friends?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you! And, frankly, I'm wondering what's with the sudden grilling of my character? Gods!"

"I'm not attacking you," he corrected in a far more controlled tone than what he had been previously using. No use firing AC up this early in the day. "I'm just saying that you can do better than being that ungrateful wench's lackey."

"I... I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Indeed, if the gods had granted Amara only one reprieve in her bumpy life, it was at that moment. The topic of conversation was instantly forgotten as a black shadow plummeted towards them from the sky. Neither of them had seen this accelerating mass until it would have been too late to do anything about it.

Luckily for them, the weapon of question did not hit either BS or Amara, but actually landed between them. The axe blade embedded itself in the soft ground by chance; its handle pointed at a 45 degree angle from the earth. Upon it's appearance BS jumped somewhat, spilling a little of his drink. Amara squeeled in surprise.

"Where in the hells did that come from?" she asked immediately. Her's and BS's eyes naturally drifted towards the sky.

"Is that a condor?"

Confused, Amara reached for the axe handle experiementally. It was clearly magical in nature and was fairly well crafted as far as axes go. Of course, she wasn't that well educated on axes, anyway.

As soon as her flesh grazed the forged metal she recoiled as though burned. Her brain suddenly felt like it had exploded in her skull, and she pain was instantanous and ungodly.

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder, giving reassuring squeezes. Being able to focus on something else did help to alleviate the ache in her head.

"What happened?"

That was not BS speaking, but actually was Cobalt. She was sure BS was about to ask the same question, though.

"I think... I think that axe was repelling me," she realized slowly, "It must have some serious wards on it. I barely even touched the thing!"

"If you can't touch it then why'd the bird bring it to you?" BS asked indredulously.

"I don't know." She spared a glance to the cleaver with some resentment, evaluating its nature. Definately malevolent in nature, but somehow it had become her responsibility to look after. Had she known about the inner evil of the weapon and the soul of the orc who had killed Blackoak imprisoned within Amara would have easily dismissed it altogether; buried it, even, and good riddance! But Amara didn't know these things, and made her decision based on the present. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to pick it up. We'll take it to Windhaven."

[The Z]

The landscape was charred and barren, but Konig ignored it. Destruction was something he’d grown oblivious to. War had recently reared its head in his homeland universes away and the consequences had hardly been appealing. Things had been lost that he could not replace, not even through the most powerful fusions of magic and technology. But that was the past – something he’d already spent enough hours dwelling on.

Wasted time, He thought.

Yet, the past always caught up with him. Running from it brought it hurtling from the heavens. He was cursed to live an oath that he himself had never sworn. Blood had brought him to this land, not his mind or his spirit. With his throne came the knowledge that he could never find tranquility; death would only come on the battlefield for him, the Gods had ensured that.

Gods I never believed in until they themselves revealed their existence to me.

Early in the history of his ancestors, the Gods had chosen his line for a cruel, but utterly necessary role. Like all holy rites, this came at a time of war, or more specifically just after his family had barely overcome the Pilgrims of Da’Nogra – a Black Orc empire. This unholy faction had pillaged and twisted any lands not in their possession into monuments to celebrate their power. In other words, using slave labor, they built dark cities with shrines to Orc Gods and towering spires that housed their war machines.

At that time, no one had ever seen such an evil. Orcs were thought to be brutish and not capable of such organized terror. Yet, it only took one foolish villain to unleash the most devastating epoch upon the world. A sorcerer who desired an army at his fingertips, spawned a battalion of Black Orcs – intelligent, agile, and powerful warriors.

But he had underestimated the limit of his legion’s intelligence. After a short period of doing his bidding, one particular general eliminated him and furthered his own personal agenda: a conquest of the world, genocide of the other races, including their own lesser brethren (the green and grey orcs). This general was the center point of a holocaust. Without him, there would never have been an uprising. Black Orc blood is bound to their maker, but he was of slightly different origins. This general was only half Black-Orc, free from the magical bonds that shackled his brothers.

The Gods had bequeathed this never-ending quest upon Konig’s ancestors and now onto him. Destroy any half Black-Orc and prevent such an evil from overtaking any world. Do nothing more and nothing less so as not to interfere with the natural path of the world. A simple, yet draining task.

That was Konig Maka’s goal. Kill the one named Erudish who is with the humans. Avoid confrontation with the humans unless attacked by them in which case, they were to be eliminated. Like a shadow he glided upon the trail of his quarry. The paths had been trodden upon multiple times as if they’d been wandering in a circle.

Excellent. They’ll be worn down and lost. Easy for me to deal with and easy for me to get out of this wretched place.

The sound of voices drew nearer as the trail grew fresher.

Thank the Gods that this time the portal brought me out near the target.

Konig cast a spell that rendered him invisible and strode over to where the voices were coming from. Two humans stood before him. One was undoubtedly a warrior. He had a natural calm about him; despite his joking around, he had a full grasp of his surroundings. Instinctively, Konig knew this man was dangerous and made note of the face. The other looked to be exhausted and from the totems nearby he figured she was a druid, which meant that there were likely summons around and about (hence the fatigue), but for the moment he couldn’t detect any. It was a situation in which he had very little interest in getting embroiled in, especially since his prey wasn’t with them. There was no point in making further observations so he turned to go.

Two humans, but no half Black Orc. Damn it, I must have the wrong trail. Or he could be hiding

Just as he was on his way, an axe fell from the sky and landed in between the two humans.

Now that’s something you don’t see every day.

In his hurry to return to his post, Konig made the most elementary mistake in thievery: don’t bring attention to yourself. The warrior had stepped on a branch. He stopped short and held his breath, but the pair was too engrossed with the weapon to notice. Just as he blew his air out, thinking he was safe, a snort from behind him jolted his senses. Taking a peek behind him, the half-elf saw a horse that was not only large, but very angry as well. It nudged him towards the other two. Konig knew beyond a shadow of doubt that it would be easy for him to slay the horse; his training was much too extensive for him to ever find himself in an awkward situation. But at the same time, preservation of life was the long-term goal, one life to save many. Cursing himself, he let the horse guide him into the clearing.

It's times like this that I abhor my bloodline.

[Sytze]

“You know, I’m beginning to question the use of this… this witch hunt more and more,” Arkanis Gath said sulkily. “More importantly, I question the logic and reasoning behind it all.”

“Really now?” Kachiko interjected. She pulled her hood off her head, and let her hair, which was normally tied in a knot, dance freely in the soft wind. “So, tell me, then, what has actually changed since we have left?” she asked rhetorically, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

She knew perfectly well that, just like herself, Arkanis was against this all. He loathed the command Aran had given him, but was wise enough not to disobey the order. Just like herself, Arkanis despised the hunt. Not because of the hunt itself, not at all, but because of the hunted one. A friend, and a dear one at that. The hunt itself was actually fun, more fun than any Arkanis had ever had, she knew. Probably because he wasn’t just tracking anyone, he was tracking one of the most capable rogues of Athkatla. One that had eluded the Shadow Thieves and even Gath himself for weeks.

Perhaps that’s why we’re still following him, Kachiko mused. To see who’s the better. She shook her head knowingly, dismissing the notion immediatly. They were with nearly ten, while he was alone. It was a hunt even Arkanis knew was unfair and could only have one outcome. He would die, and she would put this all behind her, as if it were a mere dream. A mere nightmare.

If only her heart was as easily convinced as her mind.

Arkanis eyed her coolly, but didn’t react, for she was right. Nothing had changed since the day Aran had given him the order. It was not for the first time in the past weeks that he thought about abandoning this whole nonsense. Yet he knew that wasn’t possible. Aran would never accept it, would never allow him to get back to Athkatla alive. He turned around, where several thieves were obediently awaiting his orders, but ignored them like he had done the whole week. They were bothersome company, an annoyance, yet undeniably useful. The last week Arkanis had asked himself multiple times why Aran had send these deadly thieves –and deadly they were, though not nearly as skilled as he or Kachiko- with him on a hunt. Backup was an option. Making sure he obeyed orders was another one, although Aran must’ve realised that he could dispose of the fools without too much trouble. No, they were here because Aran wanted Sytze gone, no matter the cost, no matter how much the guild was weakened in their absence.

Arkanis grinned intractable. Many would die in the encounter, he knew, and that was just what the Guild deserved. No, not the Guild, he corrected himself. It was what Aran deserved for foolishly demanding the promising man’s demise.

He was interrupted by Yaneasha, wearing a cheerful expression. “He’s near us,” he grinned evilly, “finally, the time has come to pay the bastard back for all this trouble.” Several thieves got the same cheerful expression on their faces when they heard his words.

Glares more wicked and angry than Yaneasha had ever received from anyone were now send his way by both Arkanis and Kachiko, stealing most of the cheer from him. Still, he shrugged it away nonchalantly.

Gofus, the fourth of Arkanis’ personal and elite band of thieves, watched it all knowingly. Unlike the others, he had no personal feelings dominating his emotions. He barely knew his intended victim. Arkanis cared for Sytze, saw him as a friend, perhaps even saw a reflection of himself in the younger man. Kachiko’s emotions cornering the renegade rogue ran even deeper, Gofus knew. Although she had assumed an uncaring, emotionless mask the whole journey, he knew Kachiko cared, even loved the renegade.

And lastly there was Yaneasha, who stood at the complete other side of the spectrum. The man hated Sytze, deeply. If it was jealousy, simple wickedness, or something else, Gofus didn’t know for sure, but he guessed the first. The looks he gave Kachiko now and then were undeniable and it was well-known that he hated Sytze for the quick ascension he had made within Aran’s ranks. Yaneasha had no idea why they were send on this mission either, but it was clear that he was quite happy and content with it.