~The Star Crossed.~ [Closed]

[Lexxum_Vordic]

(Closed to Cyd)

The hot winds were harsh and never stopped coming from the East.

For someone from Fallien, the cracked and baked landscape of the Tular Plains suited him just fine. The old veteran was a survivor, and used to living in harsh conditions. He never liked cities in the first place, there was too much noise for his tastes. Too many lost souls scrapping for a gold coin. Lexxum Vordic found it all to be a mockery of what he stood for. As a worshiper of the old Blood Gods, Haide had become a second home away from the other harsh landscape of Fallien herself.

It was true what the old elders of his tribe said, Fallien never really left one's heart and soul.

Lexxum looked about the small city of the Exile's Overwatch. The only true "civilized" city on the Tular Plains. His journey started in Alerar, and he'd heard of strong Demons haunting the Tular Plains themselves. Once he had heard that, he decided to go to appease the Blood God. Hot winds burned across the surface of the Tular Plains as Lexxum stood in the city of the Exiles. The locales watched the lizard folk with distrusting eyes. Lexxum did not care what they thought, he was there to appease his deity. Lexxum was a gigantic entity, standing at just about eight feet in height and weighing an incredible amount of pounds. He limped over to one of the equipment stalls to repair his worn gear. He'd journeyed from the civilized world to come out here to the outer brinks of known civilization. The old veteran warrior was looking for a foe worthy of his blade.

"You are a fool to come here, Lizard." The gruff vendor said quietly as the wind howled.

It was mid afternoon but the sun always burned hot in the Tular Plains. Lexxum paid for the services to repair his gear and stood there calmly, saying nothing.

"Where you headin' to anyway?" The gruff man asked.

Lexxum looked at the man for a long moment, then decided to respond. "To Hell itself."

"Look man, I don't want any trouble here. You wanted your gear repaired, I did that. Your presence is scaring my customers." The gruff man said casually as he handed Lexxum back his fully repaired gear.

"Good day." Lexxum responded as he gathered his belongings and prepared to depart the Exile's Overwatch for the deeper parts of the Tular Plains. Lexxum was there to train and become powerful. He'd heard from locales that Demon folks and other vile horrors still wandered across the Tular Plain. It was only a task to find them and commence in mass slaughter. The thought amused Lexxum. He limped forward and prepared to begin his journey towards the deepest reaches of the Tular Plain. On foot. He did not need Hume livestock to ride out to the deeper section of the training grounds...

Lexxum limped forward and made his way after an hour of travelling to get to the outskirts of the Exile's Overwatch.

A heavily guarded post barred Lexxum from proceeding forward, he would kill the guards if need be...

One of the guards approached Lexxum...

"You are aware of why you've been exiled, correct, Lizard?" The guard asked coldly.

"I am. I don't need your words of encouragement. Just let me pass and you can forget you ever saw me." Lexxum said coldly. It was the most he'd actually spoken in a while.

Lexxum had blood on his hands, and he didn't want to talk about it with these lowly guards. They were just as corrupt as the rest of them in the Exile's Overwatch.

"I'd wish you luck, but you think you don't need it anyway. So I'll just say good riddance to you red-scale." The guard said coldly.

Lexxum merely shrugged, readied himself and began to limp out of the Exile's Overwatch as the guards opened the gate.

I just wanted to be left alone... Lexxum thought to himself as he walked forward.

[Enter Here^]

[Arden]

Arden peered through the spyglass with his one good eye, seeking sign of his quarry. Since Duffy’s death, he had fallen on to hard times, and despite his sibling’s best efforts to encourage him away from his role as Maester of the Scara Scourge, here he was, it’s Hound once more.

“The gates are open.”

His companion, a black clad neophyte earning his guild-coin, stood upright.

“What is the plan, Maester?”

Arden smirked.

“The consulate hired us to ‘get rid’ of an exile. We’re going to get rid of him into our ranks.”

It took Arden thirty years as a double agent to infiltrate, and reform the Scara Scourge. Where once the Red Hand symbolised death, thievery, and organised crime of an immoral nature, now, the White Hand represented rebellion, reformation, and a chance for those who had fallen out of favour with law, god, and kin to find meaning anew.

“If he doesn’t wish to?”

Joaquin was Arden’s first mentee since he had returned from a hiatus. In the youth, the swordsman saw dedication, fire, and zeal sorely lacking in Arden’s life since the collapse of the Ixian Knights. Each question posed, each dagger thrusted, reminded him of all he had fought to build. Scara Brae found strength in tolerating the reformed Scourge. Arden, in turn, found strength in that trust.

“Well. When you try to garrotte him and I come to the rescue, we’ll make it up as we go along.”

Haida howled, hissed, and steamed around them. Joaquin smirked, and polished his blades as testament to his trust in his mentor’s plan. Of course, their plan relied on them not underestimating the Exile, and the fallacy of assuming that every lost soul can find its way back onto a path.

“Let’s head towards the city.” Arden pulled up his hood, red as blood and untarnished by the sandstorm, “It’s time you became a man.” They advanced down the dunes side by side.

[Lexxum_Vordic]

Wind came in from the east, with it's howling and scorching blaze.

Lexxum looked back, the gates were still open. But he knew where he was not wanted. They are afraid of me...there is no place in this world for someone like me. Lexxum paused for a long moment as he stared back at the gates of The Exile's Overwatch. And there he was then, an Exile. He'd fallen too far down the dark road to be of interest to the law abiding folks. So that was the original reason he'd gone on his pilgrimage to Haidia. The Tular Plains awaited.

The wind howled all around him. Lexxum did not wear any armor, his body was armor. As he made his way forward, his mind cleared for a moment. He saw a temple, where the presence of The Blood God lurked. Heralding his student forward.

"Do not be afraid, my Acolyte." The Blood God said in Lexxum's mind.

His people worshiped the olde Gods of War and destruction. Forbidden arts to the scared sheep of the rest of Althanas. "Your hand guides me forward, my Master." Lexxum responded calmly to the vision in his mind. Oft times, the Blood God worked in mysterious ways.

"Here you will be tested. Much as you had been tested the time you fought that undead creature in Raiaera. The bastard sons of that Nation turned their backs on you as well."

"It will always be that way." Lexxum said, submitting to his fate.

"They are afraid of you. Within your armoured carapace lurks the blood of Hell itself." The Blood God said calmly, expanding upon the teachings of Blood.

"Am I such a threat to their ilk?" Lexxum asked, he had to know.

"You are. But they will need you someday, again. They will need your power once more, this, I promise." The Blood God said.

"What shall I do when they come calling?" Lexxum asked.

"You will become the conquerer you are meant to become." The Blood God said. "For now, you must brave the Tular Plain and discover yourself. Go."

***

Hours had passed.

Tap Reaver was heavy against his back and whispered in the back of his mind. It whispered of violence and death. Lexxum understood the pain his weapon felt. He felt it also, the sting of being an Exile by their eyes. Their judgment. They are afraid of us. Lexxum knew he was destined for great things. He simply would have to start at the bottom and work his way up. With the Tular Plains stretching for hundreds of miles in every direction possible, Lexxum limped forward. He grabbed his old cloak and kept it wrapped around his body. His powerful tail kept the limping old veteran warrior in some semblance of balance against the powerful winds.

Lexxum looked ahead as he walked forward, braving the Demon's territory.

Perhaps it was there, he would find the purpose he longed for...

[Arden]

Joaquin turned, smirked, a blood lusted reflection of his anticipation for what lay ahead, and waited for Arden to give his blessing.

“Not what I expected…,” the swordsman mused.

Five hundred yards ahead, in a boulder-lined ravine, from which ambushes spring and in which men became heroes loomed a monstrous visage.

“Maester?”

The neophyte pulled back his head, ready to meet his reckoning face to face, and ran a finger along a knife’s edge as all good men who have yet to kill do. The wind, blanching and blaring with the heat of the desert behind it gave the duo enough cover to allow a moment for Arden to deliberate.

“Are you ready?” he said, bending at the knee to rest. “Your life is yours, and no one save the Thayne will save you.”

“Thayne be damned,” Joaquin replied, defiant. “I’ll save myself!”

In that moment, Arden’s mentorship ended. Joaquin ran, leash cut, and made light work of the difficult terrain. The cloth wrappings, a vestment stolen from Akashima’s ancient culture carried the youth silently through the wasteland. From his vantage point, Arden could see their target and his pupil clearly – one eye closed to focus on the coming trial. When, and if, Joaquin found himself troubled, he would wade in and their plan would come to fruition.

“That’s the spirit,” he smirked.

[Lexxum_Vordic]

Lost as he was in his thoughts, the one thought repeated itself in his mind.

I just wanted to be left alone... Lexxum limped forward making his way through the Tular Plains. He had no idea that a greater threat was making it's way closer and closer. The veteran warrior had his eyes closed as he walked forward, he didn't need to open them to see. He had fair senses within five feet in every direction. Lexxum felt the weight of Tap Reaver on both his body, and his mind. The weapon hungered for blood. So far, he'd walked for several yards forward. The township of the Exile's Overwatch was quickly becoming a distant memory.

The event that was responsible for his exile in the first place played itself in his mind.

Bastard was a Guard. He was trying to force himself on that girl so I killed him. I didn't know he was a guard... Lexxum shook his head. It didn't really matter in the long run. He saved the girl, that was some merit to him and his people. For all that mattered. Lexxum looked ahead as he walked, the blazing heat of the Tular Plains was unfamiliar to him. It was only a mild discomfort. He was used to other areas of the world and this was not one of the ones he was used to. The heat was intense, but Lexxum knew he had to keep going forward. There is no going back anyway.

Lexxum narrowed his eyes as he walked forward.

His eyes darted across the landscape. It's been hours. Nothing yet. I have no idea where to go or what I'm even doing out here. Lexxum rubbed sweat off his face. He was hot, it was all right. Lexxum was a hot blooded warrior. He looked up at the sky for a moment, there were no clouds. Only the effects of the scorching hot sun. He sighed and decided that he would keep pushing forward.

It was then that he noticed it.

A person he never knew was running right at him...

At first, Lexxum thought the person might be a hallucination from the desert heat...

[Arden]

Joaquin wasted little time with pleasantries. His daggers came to bear on his target, one in each hand, eyes sparkling with dedication to a greater cause.

“The White Hand calls!”

The signature cry soon faded into the howl and the horror of Haida. He pounced the last few feet, both blades crossing and aimed at the creature’s chest.

[Lexxum_Vordic]

Lexxum saw the flash of light, sunlight glimmering off metallic blades as the stranger drew his weapons.

He means to attack... Before his opponent was close enough to attack, Lexxum drew his might weapon. I must satiate the Blood God. The man yelled something about a White Hand in the common tongue. Never heard of that before... Lexxum had little knowledge about the ways of men folk and their geo-politics. Lexxum drew Tap Reaver, with it's glowing blade...the titanium weapon crackled with energies. As he drew it he swung wildly in an attempt to keep his opponent off his back. There were no taunts, no words...no remorse.

The attack was not meant to be lethal, merely to war the attacking stranger off from landing any critical strikes.

The red-scaled one looked at his foe...dead in his eyes...with his own red gaze.

Lexxum's eyes were red and burned with a distinct rage. A rage at life and living, a rage that was primal. As Lexxum swung his weapon he considered what the man had said. White Hand...? What is he talking about...? Lexxum thought to himself. As he swung his weapon he could already feel the initial pangs of blood lust filling his heart and mind. He would only fall back to his power if it was needed of him...

[Arden]

The daggers changed path mid-leap, turning from flesh to blade in an agile maneavour to deflect the swung that, even in Joaquin’s naiveté, he could see would split him asunder.

“Shit…,” Arden grumbled from his vantage point, as the sound of clashing steel, reminiscent of a sword crashing into plate mail reached his ears.

Joaquin flew back, daggers cupped against his chest, which screamed as the shock of the blow alone bruised the marrow in his bones. He landed on his back fifteen feet away from the target.

“I’m supposed to be saving him, not you,” the swordsman said sternly as he stood. Breaking into a run, the Maester descended the dune in defence of his pupil. The red cloak around his neck shortened, his mind pulling on the threads and causing it to crackle with power. The sound of hounds barking followed him, haunting the wind and sending a message to Joaquin, and the creature that they were not alone.

Defiant of that signal, Joaquin rolled onto his side, teeth grit, and pushed himself upright. Stood with his back to the creature, his racing, aching mind re-evaluated his approach and with blooded lips, turned to try again.

“Is there a man behind that masque?” he snarled.

He closed, clothed feet silent on the scintillating sands. He would have to sneak through that bulwark defence and strike where it hurt the most. It would be the only chance he had to wound the creature and level the playing field.

[Lexxum_Vordic]

Lexxum held his mighty weapon in defiance.

He watched the white hand pupil very carefully and kept his front side to him at all times...

The man was trying, badly, to sneak around Lexxum. Lexxum found himself strangely hesitating. There was a part of him that wanted answers...first for the unprovoked and savaged attack. Second...How did they know I was here...? Lexxum had to know. He'd gone out of his way to go to someplace where he would not be found...and the exact opposite had happened. He might have been tracking me this whole time and I didn't know. How stupid of me....? Lexxum knew better.

He knew better than to trust a society that Exiled him for trying to do the right thing.

He was a fucking guard...I killed a fucking guard... Lexxum shook his head and looked at Joaquin. "I don't want to hurt you...what do you want from me...?" Lexxum suddenly asked and he sincerely meant that. He could tell that in terms of skill levels...Lexxum far out classed Joaquin. He did not yet notice Arden heading down the hill towards them. All Lexxum could do was wait for the man's response and see what was truly going on.

If the man before him really was trying to get him...Lexxum would be ready.

[Arden]

“I’ve got all I want from you. Hard coin to make sure you never return from ‘exile’.”

Joaquin and Arden took the job without further information. In order for them to gain the opportunity to recruit, they had to hide the true, reformed nature of the Scourge from those poor souls who still believed them beggars, assassins, and bastards.

“Halt!”

Joaquin cursed, recognising the voice that emanated across his shoulder despite the pathetic fallacy that howled on around them. He scooted to one side, playing his part beautifully. His eyes sharpened, his breath tightened, and his blades split – one at the beast, one at the boss.

“What is going on?”

From the sands, Arden emerged calmly and with careful strides. He carried no obvious weapon, and his red hair flapped over his shoulders as the wind rolled down the dune behind him. It smelt like glass, and desperation.

“None of your business stranger,” Joaquin replied. “A little business.”

Arden could sense the strength in the air, the bristling of goose bumps run up his spine. Now that he was closer to their target, he saw how easily Joaquin’s death might have come– skull crushed, and worse fates besides.

“Are you alright?” he asked the creature.

The trio stood equidistant, a perfect triangle of chances scratched out onto the desert floor. The wind continued. Hearts raced. One good eye, from behind an unkempt fringe, measured the worth of the ‘lost soul’ and his worth to the Scourge’s endeavours.