A Lore Guardian's Love

[Fez_The_Kid]

A beacon of life showed in Azaranth’s sullen face, and accompanying that beacon was his undying gratitude to the man called Joshua Cronen. Breaker. From the very beginning, the man seemed ready to help the hapless monster-hunter and was even kind enough to fend off the potential threat that was the dubious farmer. He owed him so much that even he, Azaranth, did not know how he was going to repay the warrior.

Nevertheless, although a minute detail, something about Breaker had piqued Azaranth’s interest. Something about the man was… different.I'm guessing this guy is not normal. Well, not that I am either, but I’d say he’s a different kind of ‘not normal.’ Exactly what kind, though, I’ll never know by just guessing. And did he say ‘so you could keep up?’ Interesting. Most warriors I've known're pretty quick for their race, but never could someone match any horse for its speed.

Azaranth shifted in his saddle, getting a feel for his provisional mount. The bone-white animal was motionless beneath him, its leg muscles twitching under mottled skin. Without a word, he set his horse into motion, guiding it up the ruined, snow-covered road and out of the village. Even though he could not see Breaker in his swiftness, Azaranth knew his new acquaintance was not far behind. Or, rather, ahead, if he’s quick enough. Regardless, he knew that the warrior would hear him if he was loud enough. “Hey!” he called out. “Got a minute?”

The space directly next to Dandelion shuddered, and a swift blur of shadow emerged. The mare cantering and indifferent to his sudden appearance, Breaker’s face now leveled Azaranth an eager stare. “What is it?”

Although he wished to learn more about the man’s unnatural speed, the Salvarian opted to make nothing of the subject. “About my being a distraction - tell me more. You’ll get the Fae. What happens then?”

Breaker seemed to thoroughly calculate his words, for, it seemed, he too knew their weight. “I’ll leave Myra and her followers for you to deal with. Avenging your friends is not my business.”

Azaranth studied Breaker for a moment, then turned his gaze to the road. They had traveled some distance from the village, before them a trail leading to a mountainside wood. “You’re right. Make sure that this one survives if I don’t make it, though.” He gestured toward the mare, his gaze wrought with pathos. “Kind of that farmer to give me it.”

Breaker merely nodded, then added, “I’ll wait for you ahead when I find Myra and her group. Just keep your eyes peeled if you don’t want to accidentally stumble onto them.” He suddenly vanished, though hear him Azaranth still could. “There isn’t much planning to this, in any case.”

True, the Salvarian responded in thought, feeling another wrench in his stomach as the image of his fallen comrades rose once more before his mind’s eye. Just you wait, everyone. I’m going to avenge you all.

He exhaled, the air painful as it left his lungs.

Or die trying.

[FennWenn]

A while passed before the Fae woke up.

Fenn was laying on something soft and fluffy; musty fur tickled at his nose. He swatted at it. Let me sleep, you dumb dog. It didn't shift, nor lick his face, nor bark insistently at him. Cracking open his eye just a bit, he wondered why Daugi wasn't being her usual boisterous self.

It seemed that the fur he had been feeling had merely been a multihued pile of pelts cast across a stone floor for him to sleep on. He ran a hand through it, leaving a trail of frost and frowning. Memories of the village and the conflict trickled back in.

Oh. Right.

Now where was he? Fenn sat up stiffly and ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth to get rid of the sticky taste of sleep. He took in his new surroundings with wide-eyed curiosity and a dash of suspicion, clutching his satchel to chest for comfort.

It seemed that he had been laid to rest within a very strange sort of cave. His pelt bed was heaped up in front of a simple fireplace shaped directly from stone, bathing him in a warm yellow glow. The entire room felt carved out rather than a natural structure; there were no natural features, no stalagmites or bumps. Nothing more than rough reddish rock encased him. The furnishings of the chamber were sparse and simple, stools and boxes elegantly carved out of a dark wood. Pine needles, fur, and feathers littered the floor. This place was, he supposed, quite like the dance troupe whom had spirited him away in the first place. A little civilization, a little wildness.

There were only two exits to the room. Both lead into other chambers, rather than directly to the outside world.

A sharp intake of breath from behind caused him to throw a look over his shoulders. Lying in the shadow he cast was Myra in her true form. She peered into him with wide eyes, much in the way that a cat might stare at a mouse. The Saberlioness’ form twisted and melted, back into the guise of the jovial woman he danced with from before, crouching just a foot away.

Red locks fell over Fenn as she as she leaned towards him. He shyly wrinkled his nose, uncertain about how very, very close she was to him. Myra smelled much like his wolf buddy; blood and fur, mud and sweat.

“Did you sleep well?” she whispered into his ear with a feline grin.

[Breaker]

Breaker moved through the trees like a wraith through shadows. Myra's distinct footprints led him up a steep embankment that ended near the bottom of a rocky cliff face. He bellied down and crawled the last few yards to the top of the hill. Snow melted beneath the heat of his body and soaked into his white gi, but he remained absolutely still, hazel gaze sweeping the the area between the treeline and the cliff.

The mouth of a cave yawned mightily from the bottom of the cliff. A trio of wolves patrolled the entrance, sniffing the breeze at regular intervals. Blood still shone on their snouts from the recent battle. Fortunately Breaker had thought to position himself downwind. He could smell the wolves, their bloody saliva and their matted fur. He listened for a time, but heard no other animals nearby. It seemed Myra's entourage had largely disbanded following the unfortunate end to their festivities.

Breaker pushed off from the top of the hill and slid downward a few yards in the wet snow. He rose, dusting the frigid powder out of his jacket, and retraced his footsteps until he met with Azaranth.

"I tracked Myra to a cave a ways ahead," Josh said as the swordsman halted his mount, "three wolves guard the cavern. Gallop past them at top speed and they should give chase." He lifted a hand as Azaranth opened his mouth to protest. "The wolves are the ones who killed your witch friend. Her blood still shines on their snouts. Surely you wish to avenge her?"

The swordsman's amber eyes shone, and he cocked a quarrel in his crossbow and shouldered the heavy weapon. "Lead on then," he said in a tense voice, barely more than a whisper.

They circled to the south and approached the cave at an angle, moving almost parallel to the cliff face. As they neared the cavern Breaker slipped back into the treeline, pointing first at Azaranth and then toward the opening where the wolves paced.

The swordsman nodded, his throat bobbing as he eased his blade in its scabbard and then gathered the reins firmly in one hand. He hesitated for a long moment and then heeled Dandelion into a headlong gallop.

Josh moved through the trees alongside him, silent as a tumbling snowflake, watching for his chance to enter the cave.

[Fez_The_Kid]

Hooves plowed through snow as Dandelion surged forth across the glade, each heavy stride a fierce kick of snow. The mare grunted and neighed, nearing the three wolves with such boldness that it impressed Azaranth. With one hand the monster-hunter snapped the reins, readying the crossbow in the grasp of the other.

The crossbow string shuddered and the quarrel disappeared. Canine ears perked as it ricocheted off the cave’s ragged wall. Satisfied, Azaranth limbered the weapon and took hold of the reins with both hands. Dandelion warped to the left as he jerked the strap, scourging a curved course in her passage by the weary predators.

Growls, then gnashing, throaty barks. The wolves broke into a dash, their footfalls a growing tick next to the storm that was Dandelion’s own. Azaranth flanked the cliff’s wall as he made back for the forest, where he would face his chasers. The diversion, he hoped, would buy enough time for Breaker to retrieve the Fae and escape. He came before the first trees and braced, rider and horse both plunging into the underwood canopy.

“Go! Go!”

They cleared of the shrubbery, fast in their swiftness through the boles. As planned, the wolves would not let up till they caught him; for they well recognized who he was. A slayer of their comrades— “Hya!—” and an assailant on their leader. No doubt they wished to tear out his organs. Baring his teeth, he grunted in riposte, As I would them.

They came to a small, sudden descent. Dandelion leaped the space, gliding for a heartbeat before landing once more. Azaranth could still hear the wolves, their gasps nothing more than a whisper in his ear. He sensed one approach a foot too close and felt Dandelion’s alarm, waving her head in warning. Even a horse, it seemed, was no match for a wolf’s endurance - the ability to run bells on end.

It wouldn’t be long before the small pack had caught up. Cursing, Azaranth rose in the stirrups, hesitant as he checked the ground for a soft spot. He spared a glance at Dandelion then, “Don’t die on me!”

Azaranth jumped off, meeting the ground with a backroll that sent the world around him into a maelstrom. Once settled, he quickly rose to a crouch, then wobbled to his feet - even as Dandelion still ran further and further on. All three wolves had halted, their hairs rising as they stood abreast.

The Salvarian dusted his leathers, eyes unwavering on the animals, then finally unsheathed his sword. The steel-colored damascus glinted in the mid-morning light, whizzing through the air as it seemed to swing in his grasp on its own accord. He could sense - no, hear - its plea to draw beast blood.

Azaranth snarled, “Come to me, bastards.”

[FennWenn]

Fenn had experienced plenty of awkward situations in his thirty years of life. “Being seduced” was not one such situation, not until now that was.

“Do you have a name, my lovely one?” Myra crooned as she situated herself snugly into the heap of furs alongside Fenn, watching him with a coy flutter of her lashes as he hesitated to answer her. Her hands brushed against his cheek and traveled down to his chin, lifting his gaze to meet hers. Behind the gentle touch was an iron strength. Fenn felt highly, highly uncomfortable with these advances, anxiety twisting in his gut. Never before had anyone attempted to woo him -- and he could hazard a guess as to why. He felt a bit embarrassed on Myra’s behalf, as well as his own.

His head shook at her question; the stuffy cave air and her proximity to him, a bare half a foot away, made his mind move sluggishly.

“How can you not have a name?” she asked of him between the throes of a throaty laugh. “All things have one. Am I to keep refering to you in silly ways? I could name you Verdant for your eyes, or perhaps Verglas.”

He shrugged bashfully, drawing his knees into his chest, and stared into the crackling fire. He wondered if he should try to spell out his name, or leave her guessing. When he turned his attention back to Myra, he found that she had taken his hands in hers. A grey flush tinged his extremities as she brought her face closer to his. Hot breath hit his cold cheeks, smelling faintly of meat and herbs. A fit of panic hit Fenn, and he ducked away before the kiss was planted on his face. The Fae tugged his hand out of hers -- and scooted out of the furs and a few feet away from her, his back against the side of the fireplace, breathing hard. He shouldn't have been able to break her grip that easily. She must have let him, she must have been teasing him.

This line of thought seemed to be correct, for Myra’s smile bit into her words, sharp as a tooth. “You are just as entertaining in courtship as you are in dance, I see. This will be a most interesting hunt.”

A tentative smile was on Fenn’s face, one more a result of stark realization than glee. If she wants to make this a hunt, then how long can a run before getting caught?

Myra watched him for a moment, picking up on his uncertainty. “Is there anything you need?” she asked coyly, moving closer again, her gaze soft. “You act as if you are uncomfortable. There is no need to be shy under my roof. I can give you whatever you wish for, if only you ask.”

Some space? Daugi? Can I have that? He bit his lip, stuck as to how to answer her.

Both of their heads swivel to one of the chambers exits as an abrupt tumult echoed down into the cave. Baying, whining, the thundering of hooves pawsteps away from the cave -- a fight brewed, and wolves were involved. Having Daugi for a companion allowed him to recognize the sounds even as distorted as they were. Fenn flinched and huddled against the wall, praying that his direwolf buddy wasn't somehow involved in the fight. It was be just like her to discover him missing and decide to mount an attack on those holding him captive.

Enthusiasm shifted over to anger as Myra glanced towards the source of the calamity that seemed to fade away into the distance. “More company,” she murmured, her brow furrowed. She ran her hands through her flyaway hair, smoothing it down, mulling over something grave. There was genuine concern in her eyes as she turned back to Fenn, which took him by surprise. “Our hunt must wait.” He breathed a shaky sigh of relief as Myra busied herself in hiding him. As bare as the room was, there was really only one place she could keep unseen. Warm hands swaddled and hide him in a mound of furs without a warning, burying him beneath a mound of fur and fluff. When they brushed up against his nose, he couldn’t help but sneeze. Fenn poked his head out of the pile curiously only for her to push him back under the stuffy pelts. “Stay where they will not find you. I will take care of this.”

So long as he wasn't going to get hurt. Fenn sighed and stayed obediently underneath the pelts. He shivered in silence as she strode through one of the corridors out of the chamber, ready to face who or what was intruding on her haunt so.

[Breaker]

As Dandelion's whinnies and the wolves' growls faded Josh ducked out of the treeline and paced quickly to the mouth of the cave. It led into a long corridor that stretched back toward the mountain's heart. The smell of clean smoke lingered there, alongside the fading scent of the lore guardian and the Fae she had kidnapped. Breaker had barely taken two steps into the tunnel when Myra appeared at the other end.

Still in the form of the Scarlet Dancer, she flowed toward him on light feet that barely seemed to touch the stony floor. Her long red locks swirled around her face, shrouding all but her glowing eyes as she spoke.

"It is so kind of you to visit me here in my home," she said in a simpering tone. She spread her arms as if welcoming him. "Why don't you come and sit by my fire, and tell me some of the tales that make the Breaker so famous?" She beckoned with one elegant hand, but beneath the illusion Breaker knew her vicious claws lurked.

"I am not here to visit," he said bluntly, "I have come to retrieve the Fae you took from Yutori. I would never have allowed you to take him if I had realized at the time he was not one of your followers."

"But you did allow me to take him," Myra growled, "and we are getting along so well. My little lively one loves his new home."

"I should like to hear that from the Fae's own lips," Breaker said, advancing another few paces. Myra moved as if to stop him, but then stood aside with a toothy smile.

"Of course," she said as he moved past, "I would be a fool to challenge the Breakerrrrrr-" the word turned into a guttural growl as her head grew into that of the saberlioness. Her long fangs extended from her upper jaw like twin swords and she leaped at Breaker's exposed back, biting at his unprotected neck.

Josh ducked and reached up with both hands, seizing the saberlioness by her long fangs. He bent forward and threw the lore guardian over his shoulder as she completed her transformation. Her heavy body thudded to the ground and she lay still for a moment, temporarily stunned. Breaker spread his hands with fingers splayed and summoned water from the air. It formed around her in the shape of a cage and then froze solid. Two hundred pounds of ice as strong as steel surrounded the lore guardian on all sides. She roared and snapped and bit at the bars, but it would take her some time to work her way free.

The room at the end of the corridor was mostly bare, save for a blazing fire in the hearth and a large pile of hides and blankets. Breaker could smell Myra's musk emanating powerfully from the pile of furs. The Fae's scent lingered there as well, but it was weak... perhaps the small creature had merely passed through the room. Breaker paced toward the doorway set in the far wall, when a small sneeze interrupted his progress. He smiled. The sneeze had come from beneath the pile of furs.

"I don't want to alarm you," he said as he approached, "I'm here to help. I've caged the beast that kidnapped you, and I can bring you back to the village she took you from." Crouching comfortably with heat from the flames licking at his right shoulder, Josh reached out a callused hand and lifted up the blankets. "My name is Joshua Cronen."

[Fez_The_Kid]

“Kills our comrades, yet has the audacity to call us bastards.”

The center wolf’s movement of jaws as it spoke was an odd sight to witness, seeing such behavior in animals able to succinctly and clearly declare their intents. Azaranth grunted. If only I could talk with every monster I slay. Reckon that’d make things that much easier. But these guys aren’t completely monsters, realistically speaking.

A frown marred Azaranth's brows. With them, it’s either kill or die.

“We’ll teach the f’cker—” the one on the left gnashed its teeth, the timber of its voice somewhere between man and beast. An unpleasant, madness-betraying chuckle left the shapeshifter. “Eat ‘im alive…” Hackles raising, the three predators curled their lips to expose rows of fangs, pale-red tongues lolling out of their maws, their approach was carried with certainty and purpose.

Azaranth rolled his shoulders, readied himself as he lowered into a wider stance. Steadying his breath, the monster-hunter sneered. “Any last words?”

A pause, then a multitude of growls. “I’ll bite your balls off, you hunter fuck!”

As if they were a single entity, the wolves broke into a dash, a puff of snow climbing in their wake. Within a half-dozen heartbeats, he was among the beasts, the nearest one’s jaws parting as Azaranth saw its inner gums. He dropped into a crouch, momentarily saw the wolf’s underbelly, and before he could thrust his sword, another wolf’s face surged and filled his field of vision. Shielding himself, Azaranth fell and hit his back as the beast’s weight threw him off balance.

A third face showed, this time its bite actually connecting as teeth locked onto vambraced forearms, its mouth odor wafting strongly as Azaranth pushed back against its bite force. Straining, he caught a glimpse of a recent wound on the animal’s thigh, swung his leg inwards.

The blow connected, the beast wincing and staggering back even as Azaranth’s blade pierced its side, severing the muscle just beyond the shoulder joint.

A yelp, then the wolf buckled under the weight, blood already pooling underneath. Looking up, Azaranth saw that only a single wolf was standing, its demeanor that of an onlooker than an aggressor.

He grinned. “Sly.”

[FennWenn]

Thumpthump. Thumpthump. Fenn could barely hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat. More hunters like the ones that had attacked in the square were here now, he assumed, and there were two possible outcomes mapped out in his head. Either Myra would swiftly dispatch them as she did before (and there would be more dead bodies, ick), or else they would kill her and then him if he was discovered. What he did hear of the scuffle did not sound favorable. Distressed caterwauls echoed down into the chamber, and the boy tensed up, pulling the furs more tightly around him despite how they tickled and itched his sinuses. He held his breath as footsteps mingled with the sound of his strained heart, passing through the chamber with agonizing sluggishness.

It was too hot in the furs, even if Fenn radiated frost. It was too fuzzy. Without his permission, Fenn’s nose began to twitch.

No! No! No itching! Terrified, the boy slapped his hands over his nose with all haste, but it didn’t muffle the squeaky sneeze well enough. He had been caught. As it turned out, when the blankets had been lifted up off of Fenn, that wasn’t entirely a bad thing.

"I'm here to help. I've caged the beast that kidnapped you, and I can bring you back to the village she took you from. My name is Joshua Cronen." Still about as quivery as a blob of jelly, the not-quite-boy stared up at the not-quite-god with the most dumbfounded shock. Then he pumped his fists in the air, gleeful. Maybe Fate didn't hate his guts after all! Not only was he being rescued, but it was by just the man he needed to see! Fenn bobbed to his feet with a grateful grin, his fear effectively converted to excitement, even with the muted yowling in the background.

Seconds of digging in his bag allowed Fenn to procure a little note. It was a wrinkled, frost-smudged scrap of parchment, scribbled on in smooth green ink. He added in a few lines with a chalky charcoal pencil before showing it to his savior. Cronen took it with blink of surprise.

The note read thus;
Hello! I don’t have voice. You are the ice master Breaker, and I’m Fennik Glennwey. I came to your village because I need help figuring out ice magic. Mine is finicky at best. Please?

My dog is waiting at your village, probably, so we should return before Myra wants me again. Are there still scary attacker-people around? I like being not-dead.

Yes, it was possible for Fenn to write (more or less) as if he weren't a simpleton. He had to re-scribe the note a few times to get it right. Even in a premeditated letter, the boy had a habit of writing with a certain bluntness and brevity in mind. It took some effort to deviate from his old habit. In fact, his first draft had looked more like; GREETINGS. YOU ARE ICE MASTER BREAKER? AM FENNIK. NEED YOUR HELP. YOU TEACH THINGS. TEACH ME HOW TO MAGIC. MINE SUCKS.

But that was besides the point.

[Breaker]

A deep chuckle rumbled up from Breaker's chest and resounded off the stone walls of the chamber, cutting through the fire's crackle. He could not help but smile at the mute's quirky mannerisms. Beneath the Y-shaped scars on his cheeks, dimples deepened in the flickering light.

"No one's ever called me an ice master before," he said, "but I suppose I could teach you a thing or two." His use of ice magic in the Cell was often spoken of, especially the nasty flachette darts he'd used to carve a swathe through the other competitors. "First, let's focus on getting you out of here, Fennik Glennwey." Myra's irritated roars emanated from the mouth of the tunnel, and Fennik flinched away. "Not to worry. I've ensnared the guardian." Josh outstretched a broad hand and took the Fae's tiny trembling one. They moved through the doorway and around the bend in the tunnel, coming upon the great cage.

Myra screamed and gnashed at the bars, her mighty saberfangs carving off chips of the steel-strength ice. Her muscles rippled beneath her tan coat and her tail lashed displeasure.

"Watch closely," Josh instructed Fenn, "this can be your first lesson." He drew on the limitless well of the Eternal Tap and conjured more molten ice, repairing the damaged bars before freezing it solid. An eldritch glow connected him to the cage for a moment, fading swiftly. He wondered if Fennik could see it. If the Fae was not attuned to the Tap, it would make teaching him much more difficult.

The demigod and the diminutive fellow walked towards the glow of sunlight side by side. Behind them Myra morphed into the form of the Scarlet Dancer, throwing her long red locks angrily behind her shoulders.

"No! My darling little one! My joyous dancer! Come back! Do not leave me alone here. I will follow you, wherever you may roam-"

Breaker turned sharply and strode back to the cage. "You will not." He declared. "This Fae is under my care. He wishes to become my student. If I catch you lurking around Yutori, I will craft you a permanent cage. This one will melt in time, but if we meet again, I will not be so kind."

Myra growled throatily, but did not respond. Instead she shrank back against the far bars and sat, resigned to wait.

"I love you, my sweet little small." Her voice echoed after them.

The sun traipsed down toward the western horizon as they exited the cave. A low wind moaned in the trees and rustled their hair. Even at a normal walking pace, Fenn could not come close to keeping up with Breaker. The Fae's little legs churned through the deep snow, stumbling on odd steps but continuing on determinedly.

"Here," Josh said, taking the little one's hand again. He grasped the Fae's collar and lifted him effortlessly astride his broad shoulders. "I should warn you, I came here with one of the men who attacked the town. He is no threat, but we must find him before returning. If he still lives." Breaker took a few careful steps. "Are you comfortable?" He got two pats on the top of his head in reply. Something told him that the Fae was used to being carried.

"Here we go," Josh said, and then raced off, following the prints of a horse and wolves, the path of Azaranth and his pursuers.

[Fez_The_Kid]

The next attack was delivered with a swiftness that Azaranth - a swordsman supposed to go toe-to-toe with fast, deadly creatures - could not account for. Or, rather, the detailed punctuality of that attack, even as the attacker had just seen its comrade fall to his blade, was what surprised him most. Strong jaws made quick work of finding the exposed flesh of his shoulders, ignoring his leather armor as teeth were shoved through flesh.

Wincing, Azaranth reached back, frantically approaching all angles with his free arm but found little purchase - the wolf had him under its control. Pinned down, he feared, he was easy prey for the other wolf, which he saw approaching, a look akin to a smirk gripping its wolven features.

“Three on one…” he strained through groans, managing a grin in the frown that marred his features, “you wouldn’t call that fair, would you?”

“Silence!” it barked, tail shooting skyward as if suddenly tugged by an invisible rope. “I couldn’t wait for this moment. Our friends - dying to your party of wretched hunters… murderers. I’ll make sure you suffer the slowest, miserable death. I swear it.”

Azaranth was anything but affected by the beast’s words. The same could not be said for what occurred afterward, however; a shapeless figure, a blur, appeared next to the wolf; it had no time to react, no time for thought itself, as the blow that met its head downed it with a force that shifted the ground underfoot, fracturing its skull immediately.

And the wolf holding down Azaranth, after much hesitation, could but release him, its yelps ringing in the air as it turned and fled through the frost-rimmed brush. Covering the redness on his shoulder, Azaranth looked up and saw Breaker standing - next to him was a blonde-haired boy. Nine, perhaps ten winters old, he reckoned.

It was the Fae. Managed to save him after all. This man… scares me.

Azaranth drew breath. “Myra?”