Round 1: The Girl and the Guardian v Unreasonable Gentlemen

[Logan]

Round 1 pits The Girl and the Guardian (Taische and Kryos) versus Unreasonable Gentlemen (Rayse Valentino and Storm Veritas), and will begin on Tuesday, March 15th at midnight EST.

[Taische]

Taische Asthore O’Sheean was in big trouble. Technically, she was still a day or two from being in trouble, but she was well aware of actions and their consequences. Once again, her mother had entrusted her to the care of friends, and once again, she’d run off. She felt that she was justified, and she was heading right for Karuka, but… Disobedience was disobedience, and trouble was trouble.

At least the weather was warm and sunny on the road out of Radasanth, and she’d had a fairly uneventful day of walking. She’d even made a friend! Sort of. Really, they were just going the same direction at the same time, and she’d given him a cookie from her lunch box. What conversation they’d had was more her nattering away in the manner of children everywhere, but he’d been tolerant for the last few hours.

Azure afternoon had surrendered to dusky evening when the plains and farms gave up their grasses and dust to the cobbles and stone buildings of a town. The scents of roasting meats and vegetables permeated the air, the mutter of people doing their last minute dinner shopping replaced birdsong, and housewives stepped out of their abodes to summon their children home.

Taische didn’t recognize the place, though she knew Underwood was still at least two days of travel. She glanced up to the adult she’d found herself walking with for guidance, but didn’t wait for it before looking back at the streets ahead of her.

There was nothing wrong with the town itself, but from the tips of her toes to the tip of her nose, she didn’t want to stay the night in Lounton if she could help it. Something about it felt like trouble, and though she knew she probably wouldn’t see whatever it was that had her uneasy, she couldn’t help but peer into gold-lit streets and whatever dark windows presented themselves to her vision.

“Do you like camping?” Taische pushed a thick lock of black hair out of her face and looked up at her erstwhile companion. “I think camping would be a lot of fun tonight. Besides, camping bugs are friendlier than city bugs.”

Her nose wrinkled at the thought of some of the bugs she’d seen crawling around the cities. Biting bugs that hid in mattresses and hay, plenty of fleas, roaches as big as her head, and more. “And we could have a camp fire and cook on it, and everyone knows that fire cooking is much much more tasty than any other type of cooking. And we’d be quicker on our way.”

The child’s anxiety only rose while she spoke. She knew her mother wasn’t in Lounton, or she’d already be looking up into Karuka’s angry face and stammering out her explanation, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was about to catch her.

Is Uncle Tav in town? I’d hear it from him if he saw me. Once more, she squinted into the windows of a tavern and stood uselessly on her tiptoes to search for any unwelcome familiar face in the loosely packed throngs of strangers.

[Storm Veritas]

Another uneventful day had pulled itself to a close, and Storm Veritas had generated a tall pile of absolutely nothing to show for his time upon the top-side of the soil. Enjoying the quiet, he looked out at the horizon for what may lie before him. He had accomplished plenty in his collective travels, but the next challenge had not appeared before him yet. Times like this – spells between any significant activities – were often filled with long, poison-fueled days and sharing stories amongst the local strangers he found wherever his feet took him. Lounton was his latest stop, where he had found only one man interesting enough to bother burning the ear of. The balance of them were helpless.

The music was loud this evening, and the sounds of fiddler’s music and drunken chatter had started pounding, whistling, and clapping earlier than usual. Dusk was usually quiet in most towns; the hours when men returned home to families, perhaps stopping by for a quick pop after work. Lounton’s most populous bar was bouncing a little more heartily when Storm witnessed his de-facto niece and an unknown man stroll into town. Under the glimmer of a low sun and the dim hue of oil-driven streetlamps, it was near impossible for anyone to identify her from within the bar.

You’ve got to be f*cking kidding me…

Through whatever odd hand the cards of fate had dealt him, he wasn’t IN the bar tonight. Sitting in a comfortably, knees-to-chest upon the thick slate shingles of the building’s roof, Storm finished his short drink of mead and instantly refilled the tall glass from the large jug he had purchased in the afternoon. Silently, he listened to the soft gurgling roll of the honey-sweet nectar into his tumbler, and let it simmer again over his tongue as he sipped slowly, considering how in the hell this “coincidence” could possibly have come to pass. As the tandem drew closer, his mind raced with the burn of a deep, fresh wound.

No limp, I see? No bandages either. She seems to have healed up from such horrible atrocities committed upon her in Radasanth. Quite the actor that little shit has become. She should be in freaking theatres with those dramatic skills.

He pivoted slightly, whispering in a slightly-slurred hush.

“I know this girl. Her mom and me go back a ways – quite the goddamned handfuls, the two of them. Don’t know who the other one is – have you seen him around?”

Storm passed the handle of mead over to his friend, a fairly new acquaintance who felt instantly like a kindred spirit. This man had the scent of an adventurer all over him; his tattoos, terribly hidden weapon, and thousand-yard stare giving away the story of a man who didn’t spend his days banging iron or delivering letters. His keen sense for style was also of a like mind to the dapper magician, who had quickly grown tired of the parade of sad, hopeless losers that typically strolled through the pubs of Corone.

The wizard rested the glass of warm honey-liquor between his feet as he picked up his pipe. The cherrywood handle was still warm, and a simple rub of his fingertips re-sparked a soft orange glow within the dark, tobacco filled bowl. It was an old trick, but he curiously wondered how impressive his abilities must be to Rayse Valentino, who spoke little of any special skills but carried a swagger that betrayed any genuine humility.

The glass that the shorter man held was filled quickly, and an answer had yet to be delivered to the original question.

[Rayse Valentino]

The tranquil afternoon sky bubbled in Rayse's hazy vision, who couldn't quite shake the white spots hanging at the edges of his field of view. After a particularly disastrous, albeit successful, job that involved a troublesome ice mage, the firebringer couldn't shake whatever horrid lingering after-effects were currently plaguing his person. The only viable solution was to wait it out, coupled with copious consumption of canned heat. Bringing Storm along for the last job proved to be a good idea, and besides pay, he owed the man some drinks. Of course, he knew a bit more about Storm than he let on, having orchestrated a coincidental encounter that was anything but. He first noticed him when he was babysitting Taische, which given the magician's reputation prompted a persistent proclivity of what the hell. It was easy to follow him after that for the job offer. He turned out to be all right, but it still gave Rayse some pause.

So when his maybe daughter shows up with yet another strange man, Rayse started to question Karuka's parenting skills. Add that to the fact that Taische knows both of them, Rayse would need to either out himself or make up some compelling half-truths on the spot.

"No idea." He replied. He took another drag off his cigarette. "That's Karuka's kid, isn't it?"

Storm was less shocked by the familiarity than Rayse expected. Maybe it was all the drink, or maybe Storm expected anyone of significant notoriety to know her at this point. The fact that he admitted his knowledge on the subject meant that he already made up his mind on the course of action. However, before he could get up, Storm was already up and shaking his fist. Rayse could not honestly discern why, but following Storm's lead made this easier for him. He got up as well, gulping down the last of his drink.

"I don't like the look of him either. Let's turn whatever bad idea he has into a... really bad idea." Rayse sniffed. That was not the smoothest of lines.

[Kryos]

Well, that’s not something you see everyday.

As Kryos and his travelling companion made their way through the warm streets of the town, he spotted two men atop one of the local taverns. The sun lit them up against the dark, wooden shingles of the establishment, and their attire made them stand out like nobility at a commoner’s convocation. One wore a rich, red shirt coupled with a sleek, black vest that complimented the long strands of black hair that obscured his dark eyes. The other man had fine, custom-made clothing, obvious by the quality of garb and the comfortable fit. Kryos rather expected to see the two in the business districts of Radasanth, or at one of the gentleman establishments, than a middle-of-nowhere town like this. Then he noticed the jug of disappearing golden comfort the two passed between them, shook his head and turned his attention to the young girl at his side.

She appeared preoccupied and kept peering into the windows of the Reasonable Redhead. To him, she seemed like how most young girls would be: spirited and carefree. While he didn’t usually care for company, something about this child pulled on his mind like a thread unraveling the stitching of a shirt. While only a feeling, he had decided to see where it would lead. After all, that was why he had left Raiaera following the events at Trenyce—to experience the new in hopes of regaining the forgotten.

Beyond the windows of the tavern lay a symphony of activity. Jovial music mixed with a chorus of laughter set the rhythm of the tavern’s heartbeat. The sweet smell of honeymead laced with the subtle aroma of delicately spiced, slow roasted meat teased his senses. While he personally preferred the idea of staying in the nearby woods to the hustling inn, the taste of a well-prepared meal persuaded him. Especially considering he’d been on the road or sea for the past month or so.

“Let’s eat in town before making camp,” he told her. “Saves the trouble of preparing the food ourselves and makes better use of time.”

His eyes swept the buildings that lined the wide street. The tavern would do, but Kryos preferred a place a little more tame, especially considering the present company. His eyes narrowed in mild annoyance when he found none in the immediate area. While the town was large enough due to its position along one of the main trade routes on the island nation, it certainly wasn’t a major city.

Resigning himself to the chances of a crowded bar in the evening, he nodded his head toward the open doorway.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

He strode forward, shifting his pack to allow quicker access to the sword placed over lower back. He would appreciate an uneventful evening if he had anything to say on the matter and would convince any who thought otherwise.

Movement drew his gaze upwards, above the warmly lit portal. Kryos stopped mid stride and shot his hand out in front of Taische, who looked up at him, confused. Kryos said nothing as he saw the result of reason robbed by drink. He could hardly believe his luck.

And I’m not even in the damn tavern yet.

[Taische]

Dunno if you need this stated explicitly, but bunnies between the Girl and the Guardian are approved.

I had no idea that Uncle Mal and Uncle Storm were friends. But maybe it makes sense.

Taische’s eyes followed Kryos’s crimson gaze. For a second, she just stood and watched the two dark-haired men making their way down from the roof. Uncle Mal, the Salvaran pyromancer, was no longer on speaking terms with the little girl’s mother. Uncle Storm, the taller, skinnier, paler lightning mage, had left their little family some time before and hadn’t come back. Their day out in Radasanth had been fairly lousy overall, but she thought he would come back. He always had.

Oh. Oh, no.

If either or both of them caught her, there would be difficult questions, questions that demanded an answer. There would be action; she’d spent time under each of their watches. She would really rather run straight to her mom than let either of them within arm’s reach of her, and unfortunately, that seemed to be the exact opposite of their intentions. Worse, their focus wasn’t on her.

Taische gripped Kryos’s sleeve, looking up with wide blue eyes and whispering earnestly.

“I know both of those men. They are bad men, and if they get us, we’re in trouble. Big, big, big trouble. We have to run. Uh… this way.”

With that, the little girl pulled her mysterious companion into the tavern. Immediately, the stench of hard liquor, burning tobacco, and sweaty bodies overwhelmed Taische’s nose. Scores of people sat around wooden tables, gambling, drinking, eating and swearing. They weren’t the little girl’s biggest concern, though; almost a dozen women in low-cut bodices patrolled the Reasonable Redhead’s floor with their trays of food and drinks, with many more patrons wandering around them.

It was through these that Taische and Kryos had to duck and weave past. Occasionally, someone would spit a bad word or a startled remark when the two hurried by, but neither one of them had the time to stop and address it. Instead, they were rushing to the back door, which led to the cramped stables where patrons boarded their horses for as little as an hour or as long as a few days. If they could just get through the stables, Taische thought, they could get away from her uncles.

The little clairvoyant almost felt guilty about calling them bad men; they had more or less taken care of her in their own ways. She could even admit that she wasn’t easy to take care of; she was willful and independent and all around not a good child for an inexperienced bachelor to babysit. She was also overstating the danger to Kryos. If she'd been willing to face her uncles head on, she could resolve this.

But they were bad men, and she would be in big trouble if they caught her. She hadn’t lied completely.

[Storm Veritas]

[OOC: agreed with bunnies]

After the exceptionally eloquent articulation of his newfound friend, Storm smiled a sinister grin around the edges of his pipe, his eyebrows arching in the anticipation of action. That Rayse knew Karuka in the first place came as a surprise, but then the experienced wizard estimated that a powerful healer with dark skin, green eyes and long red hair could quickly reach celebrity status anywhere.

And that ass… that doesn’t hurt her “Q-rating” much either.

Daydream notwithstanding, he watched closely as the tandem approached, some whispering was shared that he could not hear. Storm wasn’t entirely sure what Taische would stop and say to the two, particularly given the less than amicable parting they had recently enjoyed. He was sure the man had seen him; their rooftop silhouettes would be striking and he noticed the head raise to survey the area. When the little tot whispered to him and they quickly ducked into the bar, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

“She’s captive. The way she tugged on his shirt… Something’s wrong. Let’s go.”

Despite enjoying a healthy share of the large bottle of mead, Storm vaulted gracefully from the rooftop, steadying his turn by pivoting a hand on the rain-worn wooden gutter. His landing was almost smooth; he felt a little pang of pain shoot up his left foot as it landed on the a corner of cobblestone and mortar. He hoped it was nothing, but feared an ankle sprain. Rising with a mild wince but no words, he heard Valentino land more adeptly behind him. The shorter man appeared to handle his liquor well.

Stepping forward, he ignored the pain in his foot as he pressed open the just-shut door. He was met with a wave of music, white noise and gray smoke, which instantly meshed in a familiar, days-gone experience. The bar was loud and boisterous, a sea of shoulder-to-shoulder stupid humanity that the others must have just parted. He didn’t want to make a scene, as Taische and the stranger had clearly not done. He would find them; there wasn’t far to run. Over his shoulder, he spoke to Rayse quickly, knowing the thought was likely shared.

“They’re in here. They have to be.”

Storm briskly walked to the bar, stifling his wince and returning the bottle in exchange for his deposit, and left a few crowns to a smiling, buxom barmaid. The girl was far prettier than the middle-aged, dour six-toothed jackass that had taken his cash up front, and the magician enjoyed letting his eyes relax a moment. Perhaps the moment was too long.

Focus, you dumb shit! Find Taische!

As if snapping from a trance, he spun wildly to scan the room. He didn’t know how he would find Taische in this busy scene; the room darkly lit to protect the ugly and the noise too pervasive to ask questions. This was a breeding ground for the intoxicated and incompetent. It was then that he felt his good fortune return. Several heads were suddenly looking downward, bald spots and ponytails popped up in a row like domino faces show as the tiles fall. They were watching something small move through; he wagered it was more like someone.

That someone was headed for the door, and trailed by the new stranger. They had circled behind them, waited, and were making a dash.

“Shit! The door! Go!”

[Rayse Valentino]

Weeks ago, Rayse was meeting with a spy in the backroom of one of his many mercenary guilds in Corone. It was a fairly simple room that served as a makeshift office, with a basic wooden table barely supported by four flimsy legs. A lantern hung from the ceiling, forcing the two men to share what little light it gave off. Rayse addressed the man, who looked no different from a typical farm-working peasant, covered in a dirty brown tunic and hair so messy you could almost see the fleas.

Rayse leaned over the table, casting a long shadow. "Your message said Storm Veritas. I want to confirm his immediate location."

"Permission to speak freely?" asked the spy.

"You don't need to ask that."

"Apparently I do, because last time I did you flew off the handle!"

Rayse lowered a brow in frustration, "No I didn't. Because the world didn't end. Spit it out."

"It's been hell following this girl around, and that's even with the tracking paper. Usually I'm a day or two late and completely miss all the action. It's a bit easier when she's with her mother, but still... by pulling me off her and onto Storm, I've completely lost track of her. It will take me weeks to get back on her trail. What's so special about this Storm guy?"

"He's an old name around these parts. In short, a criminal. I don't know what he's playing at with Taische and I want to find out." The spy wondered out loud what the purpose of tracking the girl was in the first place. "There's a lingering question on my mind and I need to find the answer for myself. Yet, part of me wants to say, what difference would blood make? I've never even heard of her until recently. I want to just drop the matter and move on with my life, but her power interests me. She's immune to my abilities, which is enough cause for concern as it is, but add to that the fact that she knows too much. Does that answer your question?"

"Your answer sucks. You can't decide whether or not you give a shit about her? Give me a break."

Rayse slammed his fist into the table, causing a noticeable crack to appear on the surface. "Why do I let you talk back to me?" The spy shrugged. They had known each other for over a decade, and the ill-dressed man was the best spy in the contractor's employ. "In any case, I need to find out what kind of man Mr. Veritas is, and I think I've found a good way to do it."

- - - -

The cigarette was spent. Usually this would be the time to pull out another one, but he didn't think he would have enough time to smoke it. He spit it out and looked around, the pungent stench of the place reminding him why he took his drinks outside in the first place. Unlike last time, Rayse couldn't tell any of the heat sources apart. In fact, he couldn't feel them at all. Goddess-damned ice mages! Storm's exclamation was barely audible in the rabble, but Rayse heard it nonetheless.

He lifted his foot and smashed it into the ground, nearly tearing apart the floorboards. Behind him, a pillar of fire burst from the floor, covering up the exit with a torrent of flames. In one fell swoop, the festivities in the tavern had ended. They were all now staring at Rayse, whose figure stood ominously before the flaming doorway. Some were scared, some were angry, but most were confused. On the bright side, it was now quiet enough to project his voice.

"I know you're in here, Tash! If you come out now I promise I won't hurt your little friend."

[Kryos]

Kryos only caught the eruption of a growing geyser of fire across the room before the heavy wooden door swung shut behind him, muffling the exclamations of surprise. Before him lay a narrow corridor flanked by simple, small stalls containing the patrons’ horses, interspersed with the occasional stable hand tossing hay or shoveling manure. The humid, arenose odor filled his lungs as he chased after Taische, paying no heed to the startled animals or now captivated workers. One particularly big beast of a horse let out a loud call after the retreating pair, rearing up and slamming his hooves against the hay-strewn floor. Taische glanced back, but couldn’t stop to address the black stallion.

They crossed the distance in a matter of moments and reached the iron gate that spanned the wide gap of the stable’s entrance. Kryos vaulted over the barrier in one graceful leap, turning midair to see the small girl clamber nimbly through the crossbeams. She knew how to use her size to her advantage, it seemed.

The small backstreet wrapped around the tavern towards the main thoroughfare, with narrow, darkened alleys branching off between neighboring shops. Kryos pulled Taische into a shadowed lane that led away from the pub and the rising column of smoke. Rancid redolence replaced feral musk as they skirted through the discarded waste that littered the stone path.

Fresh, evening air welcomed them as they broke onto a wide, well-traveled street, framed by a line of gently swaying trees that ran along a natural waterway at the far side. Beyond, golden wheatfields gleamed with the light of the evening sun. Unable to soak in the beauty of the land, he took off after Taische, who was already following the lane deeper into town. He glanced into the alleyway before it shifted from his view for any sign of pursuit. From the girl’s reaction, he hoped that they could lose the two men that had made it their business to bring trouble down on him. He somehow knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

As he ran, his gaze lighted upon the spinning leaves that drifted to the ground along invisible currents of wind. The branches overhead cast dark shadows on the path, stretched to the limit by the low sun. A ballet of scarlet and amber danced before him, and through it, he watched the form of a small girl run.

Before his eyes, the long, dark hair that flowed in the wake of her flight turned blonde. The cobblestones turned to crimson grass. His breath caught in his throat as he heard the bark of a dog. He instinctively drew his short sword and spirals of ebon flames blossomed along its length. He could almost feel the creature’s breath on the back of his neck as it attacked. He turned, fear and hatred burning in his eyes, steel whistling straight toward . . .

Nothing.

The river flowed along the tree lined path, calm in the evening light, and cobblestones pressed against the soles of his boots. Behind him, he could hear Taische calling out. His mind raced as the long-buried memory raged against his consciousness.

The hell . . .

[Storm Veritas]

(OOC: Order change discussed and approved by all parties for continuity improvement)

Hell had officially broken lose, as was logical when traveling with its spokesman. Rayse had sent a torrent of flames up behind him, and the wave of fear, wonder, and anger that dared ruin the early evening of the patrons of the Reasonable Redhead which came flooding back to them was palpable. They were invaders, and likely not the first magic users these decidedly pitiful, hardscrabble townies had witnessed. Magic wasn’t formally outlawed, but it carried with it a taboo sense of danger and entitlement that the plebian class despised. Storm recognized the look as he stared at Rayse, a sideways glare that spoke without words in no uncertain terms.

We don’t have time for this shit. You got us into a mess here, find a way to get us out.

The connection between the two was real, be it something cosmic or as simple as like-minded scoundrels. Rayse made a scene, gathering the attention of the pubgoers as he rubbed his hands together, like a magician preparing to produce doves. With a single clap, the flames in the room disappeared, marked only by scorched hardwoods and residual tendrils of thick gray smoke which wafted harmlessly into the rafters.

“My apologies for the interruption, ladies and gentlemen. The next round is on the tab of Storm Veritas!”

On cue, the wealthy wizard produced a handful of gold coins, which shined with impossible brilliance in the low light of the barroom. He turned to splash them on the counter, listening to the approving wail of the idiot masses as the two bolted for the door. He burst out and was once again met with fresh air, the sky a half-shade darker and only the confused gazes of a few pedestrians that had obviously witnessed something off. They peered back and forth from the door to an adjacent building, wherein Attila had been housed. Taische and the stranger had gone through the stables. There was no time for banter, but he couldn’t stifle the smile that Rayse’s display had generated.

“Cute trick, try to keep up.”

With a white-blue glow in his eyes, Storm Veritas began a dash that would leave the onlookers in disbelief. His slightly wounded ankle obeyed dutifully as he commanded his body to spring into action, a short pin-ache rifling up his leg as he began his dash the only reminder it would offer. His elegance, with both the smoothness of gait and impossible length of stride was more animal than human. The tracks through the stables were easy for any to follow, with the haphazard kicked-hay leaving pointed arrows down the path of escape. The jostled gate was also a clear mark; the lithe mage soared over the gate like a horse clears a single patch of low brush. Without breaking stride, he followed the chain of quizzical glances down a short alley and into the open street. As he strode and caught a possible glance of the two picking a secondary alley ahead, a large figure popped out in silhouette form some hundred feet ahead, barking wildly at the pursuers.

“Slow, down f*ckhead! Where’s the fire?! Take it easy!”

Without a word, the dagger was out, and the seasoned assassin in him took hold of his decision making. He couldn’t make out the expression on the face of the man whom he closed upon in the span of a second or two, and it didn’t matter. Taische was in danger, and there was no time for negotiation. He timed his spin perfectly, the blade dancing lightly across the left arm and belly of the confused interloper. The light resistance told Storm he had caught flesh, but it was merely a distraction. He continued the athletic pirouette behind the visage, and drove the dagger hilt-deep into the soft, fleshy space behind the tall man’s collarbone. The blade dove deep and true, unmistakably finding home somewhere in the heart of the fool. From his standing posture, Storm could see clearly that somehow Rayse had almost effortlessly kept pace, but didn’t pause to consider this incredible notion.

Just as quickly as it entered, he extracted the large knife, and continued forward towards the street he believed the tandem had run to. There was no need to watch the man fall and die; he would hear the heave of disbelief, gurgle-gasp of a dying breath, and lifeless tumble of humanity for many nights to follow in dark dreams.

I’m sorry, stranger. Wrong place, wrong time. It’ll be me soon enough, I’m sure.

More abject, open-mouthed glares met the travelers as they resumed pursuit. It was six or seven more seconds of sprinting before he saw the others ahead, running down a very long, slightly wider street lined with sinewy, twisted deciduous trees, well into the process of shedding their coats for the coming winter. Their figures flashed in the zebra-striped shadows, and they were still moving with good pace. Storm felt his heart pounding through his chest, his lungs screaming for more air. He slowed to a jog for a step or two, stealing a hard pull of the colder air before shouting.

“Taische! Slow down! It’s Uncle Storm! I can help you!”

They didn’t stop; he wasn’t sure if they had not heard him, or if they had ignored his pleas. If she was being coerced, then pulling away would not appear an option to her. His burning lungs, and a throbbing pulse from his tweaked ankle forewarned him that he could not continue to chase indefinitely. His eyes focused on the larger figure; what sort of man would steal a small girl away in the twilight? This man was going to die. Standing and extending his still crimson-slicked dagger away from his fatigued frame, Storm fired a mighty, sizzling bolt of electricity in their direction, targeting the large Coronian White Maple some seventy feet in front of the two. Blocking the street would be easier than hoping it would come to an end before they got tired of running.

Outrun that, asshole.