Uprisings and Downfalls

[Beauty]

((Closed))

The young woman known simply as “Slave” walked quickly n slippered feet through her master’s mansion. She’d been told that it was too dangerous to go outside, so she was taking her usual after lunch walk indoors. This walk was a new thing that had been implemented by her master’s lady friend, Lady Venus Aphrodite Taraguan. Lady Venus believed heartily in good exercise and had insisted that the young slave begin taking walks regularly in order to maintain her slim figure. According to Lady Venus, the earlier Slave started a regime of good exercise, the easier it would be to maintain such a flattering and beautiful figure. Slave enjoyed her walks. They were the one time a day, aside from bedtime, that she had all to herself without having to worry about any of her duties.

Slave remembered well the day Lady Venus had arrived nearly six months ago. She and her master, Lord Gregory Carth, had not been home very long when the Lady arrived, claiming to have heard many stories about Lord Carth’s adventures. Master Carth had like the gorgeous lady immediately, though at first, Slave thought that was only because Master Carth liked all pretty ladies. A month or two later though, Carth was making excuses to convince the Lady to stay at Kanoth Springs. Lady Venus had accepted and now it had been quite some time.

Another thing that Slave liked about Lady Venus was that she wanted to teach Slave how to read, write, and do arithmetic. Slave had been in the other room when she heard Lady Venus convincing Lord Carth to allow slave some education. She had claimed that it was “atrocious” and “barbaric” not to allow someone of Slave’s age at least a rudimentary education. As a result of that conversation, Slave now had school three hours a day with Lady Venus. One hour was devoted to each subject of reading, writing, and arithmetic. Even after such a short time, Slave was able to read somewhat, could print her own name and sentences clearly, and could do simple math. All in all, she was very proud of herself.

Unknown to Slave though, unrest stirred the town of Kanoth Springs. She had not heard about the church’s declaration of the king being an illegitimate ruler and that anyone that supported him was to be overthrown. She did not know that this was the reason she’d been told she had to stay indoors. Most of the townsfolk knew that Carth was extremely protective of his personal slave and he did not want her to get hurt. Slave happily walked at a brisk pace through the mansion, unaware that her world was on the brink of destruction.

~*~*~*~

At that same time in the local inn, a small crowd had gathered. At first the crowd had been small, but as the silver-tongued speaker went on, he gathered more and more people to his cause. The local priest had asked him to speak to the people and get them riled up. The church, of course, could not do this themselves, else the people would see through it.

The man spoke at length about the hard times the people endured year after year, but failed to acknowledge that the current lord was much better than the previous one. The walls that protected the town from their lord’s rivals became prison walls. The part of the harvest that the lord took for his own household, became an unbearably large amount, despite the fact that no one had gone hungry in Kanoth Springs for many years. By the time he was done, all but a very few of the man gathered in the inn were muttering about how much he was right. They looked at him once more as he gave his parting words.

“The nobility class has taken advantage of us for too long! Isn’t it time we ruled ourselves?”

Leaving the people to ponder his question, the young man climbed off the table he’d been standing on and returned to the temple. The priests had provided a room for him that they swore would be safe from Lord Carth’s soldiers. The Carth family had a reputation for not putting up with people that would incite the masses against them and the man had insisted on the best protection he could get before agreeing to help the church.

~*~*~*~

Inside Carth Manor, Lord Gregory Carth walked arm in arm with the lovely Lady Venus. Everyday he found himself more and more enamored of her extraordinary beauty. Long, blonde hair cascaded in soft waves down her back to her small waist. Every curve of her body was perfect, though she would not yet allow him the joy of exploring those curves in private. Her eyes were a dazzling green. From the moment they first laid eyes on each other, those emerald eyes had cast a spell over the young lord; a spell that was renewed every time he looked at her.

Carth led the beautiful woman along a stone path that wound through his gardens. A large variety of flowers grew there, tended by the best gardeners he could find. Smiling at his beloved, he carefully picked a flower and offered it to her. She took it with a shy smile, neither of them aware of the events that were starting to unfold just a few blocks away from them.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Law of the universe: Bad news is the only thing that travels faster than light.

I've been aware of the impending crisis in Salvar for a while now. When your ideal way to wrap up an evening is by seeing what the local watering holes have to offer, you hear talk. Ethereal Sway this, King Rahaxea that; no matter which tavern I camped out in. From the way that these people were talking, something big was going to go down--it was just a matter of when.

I was still in Radasanth when I started hearing the rumors. After mulling over the possibilities for several days, I decided that the frozen continent would prove to be a good opportunity to raise some cash, and perhaps gain some notoriety along the way. I stuck around the Coronian city a while longer; my funds were too low to make the trip then. I dug around a bit, slitting a few throats here and there until I had the necessary gold for the boat ticket.

A few weeks later I set foot on the snowy, barren landscape for the first time in my life. Traveling by foot along Iorlan's Canal, I came across a small town called Kanoth Springs. It was a quaint little place, not unlike the towns that were scattered along the Coronian countryside. However, the tension in the town was so thick that it made me sick to my stomach. The rumors were right, things were going to blow up here; Not just in Knife's Edge, but all over the country. As I continued walking down the main road, my footsteps crunching softly in the white powder, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had eyes all around me, watching me cautiously, waiting patiently for me to make one wrong move. I paused, looking around.

Nobody. There was nobody there. The only movement was my breath dissipating into the cold, crisp air. Reluctantly, I continued to walk. I spotted a building that had all the signs that it was a tavern: Windows tinted by years of tobacco smoke, a small murmur of noise escaping through the cracks in the door, and a wooden plank above the door clearly marked inn.

I quickly made a bee line towards the building, softly opening the door. It was a low-rent establishment; the mirror hanging behind the bar was cracked in places, two of the tables were held up by barrels instead of proper legs, and the air smelled of mold and stale alcohol. With my grand entrance, the three dozen or so patrons immediately put their hushed conversations on hold, opting to stare at me with blank expressions. I surveyed the tavern, returning their kind gaze with one of my own.

"What..." My thin, raspy voice seemed to echo throughout the small room. My hand released the door, which swung with a creak back into its natural position. Despite my cold exterior, these villagers were starting to freak me out. Perhaps I stumbled into the wrong town... Our eyes still deadlocked on one another, I reached into my satchel and pulled out one of my trusty vials of blood. I quickly popped the cap off and drank it; the metallic taste of the crimson liquid calmed my nerves somewhat.

My heels clicked on the wooden planks of the tavern floor as I made my way over to an open stool at the bar. The patrons slowly returned to their conversations, opting to ignore my presence. The bartender, made chubby and bald by the waning years of his life, approached me. In a tone that suggested that he didn't trust me at all, he asked, "What can I do for you, ma'am?"

"I'd like a Bloody Mary, please."

He cocked his head to the side. "A what?"

I sighed. How could you tend bar and not know what a Bloody Mary is? "Never mind. How about a screwdriver?" The man looked at me in a manner that told me he didn't know what a screwdriver was either. I closed my eyes, doing little to hide the disappointment in my voice. "What do you have, then?"

The man looked at the nearly empty shelves on the wall behind him, his eyes falling on a small group of identical brown bottles. "Whiskey."

"Is that all?"

"Yep. I'm afraid we don't get much demand for anything else around here."

I turned on the stool, looking upon the patrons with disdain. You poor bastards have no taste in drinks, I wanted to tell them. But considering that they mirrored my stare, I kept my trap shut. I didn't want to start anything; I'd risk getting hurt before I made it to Knife's Edge.

"Alright then, how about a double shot of whiskey to start me off."

The bartender snatched a small glass from underneath the bar, pouring a little bit of the amber fluid into it and sliding it down the bar towards me. I picked it up and brought it to my lips. It was sour, a little bit too much for my tastes. I tried to hide a cringe as I set the drink down on the bar.

He smiled, aware of my dislike towards the whiskey. "What's a matter, ma'am, too strong for ya'?"

"No, it just tastes a little too much like piss."

The man furrowed his brow. "I'll have you know that that is the finest whiskey in all of Salvar, distilled in Aouk and shipped all across the world."

"So you're telling me that your drinks only get worse from there?" This was bad. Not only were there villagers who were acting as if I were the plague, but if this whiskey was the best this country had to offer, then I wasn't going to have anything decent for a while. I should've never left Radasanth. The bartender scowled at my disapproval, sulking over to the other end of the bar to mechanically rub glasses with a towel.

The bar sat in an uneasy quiet for a while. I didn't have to look to see that the villagers were paranoid, but what for? I was just a traveler on my way to do some killing in Knife's Edge, they didn't have to worry about me. From the tips I gathered back in Corone, this was a fight between the church and the state, and they all probably were mulling over the possibility of me being on the side of the nobles. The fact was, I was willing to fight for whoever paid me more.

[Corvus MacCallum]

"Bloody Nora..."

"Sorry sorry, I'll keep an eye out for any others"

In the back of a merchant wagon Corvus was slumped in a corner gripping his head with one hand, wasn't the gentlest rides at best but they had whacked against something hard in the ground that jostled free a well sealed crate of smoked fish, wasn't the lightest of things and it had cracked him on the noggin. Normally he'd be tackling this vast expanse of Salvars wilderness on foot and doing his damndest to beat any cocky horse but right now he just wanted to get where he was aiming for, first off a visit to Corath Springs and then get a bit of a toughness regime worked out in the snow wastes where a bloke can really push himself. He'd been hearing stories and witnessing fresh tales of the lovely religious establishment versus the general establishment, not something he was entirely interested in, while a touch of a mercenary he preferred keeping his hired services attached to monsters, slavers and those great big bad evils... something morally clouded like this didn't sit well with him. A slow sigh escaped his currently covered lips and glanced past the coverings of his dragon-hide hood to the scant few peices of person that could be made out at the front.

"How much longer?"

"Can already see the place now, be less of a while yet"

Less of a while... that just sounds odd

It hadn't taken any unusual effort to garner himself a transport, just helped the bloke load up his shippings and then ask about the destination, hearing Corath Springs just struck a chord that he was finding tricky to force specifics on. He knew he had to go there and felt slightly chuffed that he was and with such ease, but thoughts on what to do while there abandoned him before those lethal claws could shred them and see what motivations spilled out. At the least he could check out the Dragons Head Inn, not a terribly original name but delivered exactly what they had mounted out the front. One clear peice of evidence of his deeds so far, few days after wandering far from Corath he had wound up in a little trading hostel and managed to meet Adventurers who had heard of the story, felt good to banter about slaying and adventuring in general, general gossip and crop rotations were not great for grabbing his attention and weather was only useful to know when near the ocean.

The Highlanders head lifted slightly from his thoughts, muffled voices slipping past the canvas outside, he had forgotten Corath had quite a few guards that worked its exterior, few other things were fizzing into focus as they rolled on through into the place. Leaning back a tad Corvus let his thumping head wane on his priority list and instead peered out the back as they went past slightly familiar places. He wasn't big on towns, not a creature that savoured bustling civilisation, apart from farmers markets but that was a lot more rural and warm than the activities occuring in the higher up habitats.

Well trained horses

Easy thing to tell, as they came to a halt not a whinny nor abberant clop of the hooves occured, just a stop of motion and they rested.

"Thanks for the help"

"Nah mate, ta' for the light, saved me getting me paws soaked"

He gave a passing wave as he exited from the merchants vehicular transport and took his time glancing about to place himself accurately. Most eyes were on him and not leaving, a Blazen-hide was not the dullest of colours and when it matched up to a large head hung over one of your local taverns it was something you could recognize, the huge handle and sword attached to the ensemble just set off even more alarm bells in peoples mind, the Slayer had returned. Thankfully though after realising this most folks just went back to their regular routine, nothing like that Blazen had been seen in the area since and he was probably just passing through.

Well I'm here...

He certainly was...

... what the fuck to do now...

Whimsy was the key when directionless and he was going to make use of that curious mental capacity, a few sniffs and he decided to find any good battle-like scents and see if that would lead him to anything.

[Beauty]

Afternoon passed into evening, evening to night and so on until the next day dawned clear and bright. Almost immediately, the young man that had been speaking in the tavern the previous afternoon was at work again. This time, wandering through the streets, encouraging the townsfolk to take up their weapons and storm the manor. Much to his delight, many were starting to nod and heft whatever farming implement they were carrying to the fields as though testing its worth as a real weapon. His words were more or less all the same as he wandered from perfectly straight street to another..

“The lord wants nothing more than to make beggars of you. Look at how much he takes from the fields as his portion to stock his mansion. For that matter, just look at his mansion! He’s just a man like all the rest of you! What makes him so special that he gets to live off the sweat of your brow as you tend the fields? Money? He only has that money because he and his family have been cheating you for generations! It’s time for the reign of the lords to end!”

He went on and on, never stopping his litany of evils and misdeeds the Carth family had done. When someone offered the argument that none of those things were Gregory’s doing, the young man’s answer was that it didn’t matter. Gregory was the last of the Carth line, and would therefore have to pay the penalty for his family’s crimes against the people.

*~*~*

In Carth Manor, Lord Gregory Carth was preparing to begin the very boring business of beginning his daily paperwork. A stack of papers sat on his desk to his right. All of it reports on what Kanoth Springs needed to stock up on for the coming winter. Food was rarely a problem, since Kanoth Springs farmed most of its food. However, things like firewood and raw iron for the forges were scarce. Some of those papers were also drafts of trading agreements between Kanoth Springs and other estates, pending his approval before being sent by messenger to those neighboring estates. Sighing, he laid down the report he had been studying and rubbed his temples with his fingers.

How on Althanas did Father do it? There is just so much to look at! So many decisions to make every day. I need a break.

Lord Carth began to rise from his chair but was cut short as Captain Talenoff walked through the open door.

“Lord Carth, sir? Do you have a moment? I have very urgent news.”

Sighing, Carth sat down again and waved for the captain to continue.

“Thank you, sir. I don’t know how else to word this, so I’ll just be as blunt as I can be: the peasants are on the brink of a revolt.”

Carth waved his hand negligently, “Peasants are almost always on the brink of a revolt.”

“Not like this, sir. This time, the Church is behind it. You have heard of how the Church has declared His Majesty an illegitimate ruler? Well, they’ve extended that to all nobility. They’ve got a young man, likely one of their acolytes, going around telling everyone to take up whatever weapons they can and storm Carth Manor. Worse yet, I think the Church may be smuggling in weaponry to give to the peasants.”

Carth frowned. If Captain Talenkoff was right, then this was no ordinary peasant revolt. A normal revolt could be easily put down with a show of force and elaborate promises; he’d seen his father accomplish such a thing when Gregory was still a small child. However, if this was organized by the church, then it wasn’t just a bunch of peasants over-reacting.

“How loyal is my military force right now?”

“I’m not sure. I can only guarantee maybe half the garrison would side with you, if for nothing more than the pay. The rest, I can’t be sure about. Some of them are very religious and would believe the sky was magenta if the Church told them so, the blind fools.”

“How many does it take to hold the gates closed? If this erupts into a full scale revolt, I want those gates closed and I want them to stay closed until the revolt is put down. Put the bare minimum required for keeping those gates closed at the gate, and send the rest here to bolster my manor guard. The peasants won’t be likely to sack their own homes, so I need only protect my home. Any questions?”

“None, sir! I’ll get started right away, sir!”

Saluting the Captain exited the office, silently going through the roster of soldiers and deciding which ones he could count on to remain loyal to Lord Carth.


((A zillion, trillion, billion apologies for the very long wait for a post from me. this holiday season has been very busy for me. ^_^;)

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

If anyone owes an apology, it's me. Sorry it took me this long.

I was only growing more and more uncomfortable. The bar's patrons kept on murmuring to themselves as I slowly sipped my glass of whiskey. A few were occasionally running in an out, cycling themselves amongst the tables. Whenever I bothered to look over my shoulder, they were looking at me. I tried not to do anything irrational, although the temptation was certainly there. Maybe I'd get some solitude if someone's esophagus was curled in a bloody heap on a table.

Part of me believed that I wouldn't have to wait until I got to Knife's Edge until I would see action--something was going to go down right here, and very soon. This atmosphere, the tension, the general uneasiness... If I had to guess, they were gearing up to overthrow the local establishment in an attempt to help out the Church.

The metallic creak of the door hinges announced the arrival of another person. I casually looked over to find a man dressed in the formal blue robes of the Church of the Ethereal Sway. He appeared to be in his thirties, with a shaggy crop of dirty blond hair. His sky blue eyes immediately met my own as he approached the seat next to me. "Double shot of whiskey please, barkeep," he commanded with a high-pitched voice that belied his moderate frame.

"Coming right up, Father Turrothe."

He pulled out the stool next to me, sitting down and taking up the small glass that was set in front of him. I returned to my own drink, opting to keep to myself rather than finding out for sure what was going on here. A dead silence hung in the air for a few minutes, broken only by the occasional clinking of a glass against the wooden tables.

After finishing his drink, the man calmly looked over and spoke. "So, what brings you to our fair little town, stranger?"

"I'm on my way to Knife's Edge." I took the final sip of the awful whiskey in front of me.

The man next to me chuckled lightly. "Mighty dangerous place to be right now, don't you think?"

I shrugged. "That's where all the action is, I guess."

"Hmph. Hoping to make some money in our struggle against King Iorlan Rathaxea, I take it." I noticed the spike of disdain in his voice when he mentioned the king of Salvar's name.

My eyes were still locked onto the empty glass in front of me. "Death is my path in life. There's nothing I can do to change that, so I might as well make the most of it and earn a few bucks in the process."

The man snorted. "Perhaps you should stick around for a while, you'll see that not all of this 'action' you speak of happens where you'd think it should." He then got up, paid for his drink, and left the tavern.

[Corvus MacCallum]

With a balanced argument like that I can see exactly why everyone is up in arms... still these things never work out the way they want

He wasn't speaking strictly from experiance, despite his knowledge from endless trekking Corvus was a tad short in the tooth to have seen the effects of revolts, his pal Sok however, he did read quite often and sometimes aloud when he wanted to be irritating... annoyingly quite a sizable chunk of it wormed its path into the Highlanders mind. Main-stream history was written by the victors and when full of regrets it led to the conclusion that in their revolution or regime change they fucked up quite majorly. This one was church led so in the Wolf-mans opinion there wouldn't be any words of regret just lots of saints and martyrs of the week.

Stomp stomp stomp go the feet of the arse-holes

Corvus had a thing against sleeping in inns, or regular buildings... pretty much anything that was man-made really, but while normally his slumber would be in the wilds after hearing a few of the rants the previous night he kept inside the cities boundries. Tree behind the Dragons-head inn was nice and rent free... not entirely uncomfortable too, just a shame he couldn't pre-heat his Slammer, it served as a good hard mattress. A quick flick of hand-mounted claws gave him enough of a view to see the trekking trouble-makers.

Well now isn't that a curiousity

A few gleams of metal more polished than hoes and rakes would be made their presence known to the warrior from among the rabble. The chance of an outside influence seemed low, but perhaps stolen property or just lost items in the taverns, not to mention things getting dropped in the fields. Then again there tends to be extra options that should be blindingly obvious but don't snap right in there, plants by the church. Probably a farming warehouse with a few spears stuffed in the hay, might even come across one or two mercs among the bunch, Churchs like to win their revolts so relying on peasant numbers and various farming equipment was bad strategy.

He had been told once or twice by the alphas back in Danube that when travelling through Salvar not to cause or stir up threats to the village, they weren't cowards, many Highlanders were warriors of a higher calibre than himself... at the moment, but the simple fact is they would be out-numbered and had more than enough to deal with due to Slaver groups and the occaisional disposessed noble child with a few loyal troops looking to get himself a little hamlet to rule in. Highlanders stayed out of Salvars higher society to keep themselves hidden, they may reside in the snow wastes but neither the church or king ruled them... probably were mostly unaware...

Okay thats a foolish hope but at the least they never saw us important enough to touch... a big conflict could change that, the church finally deciding in brutal unification... king could be thinking the same and beleiving his subjects shall be forced to fight for him... don't like this, but I'll solve it here

The peasants had cleared away from the tree he had called home the previous night and had a good time to get to where a vastly sworded Highlander would be most welcome and wanted. Shame the owner was an arsehole.

Quietly he unchained the giant monster felling sword and used a thick chunk of cloth to hold its edge in his hand, having it along his back would cause too noticable a shape, but having it against his side would make ducking down easier. This proved very true as he leapt and skulked his way across the lower roof-tops, didn't take long at all to aim himself for the Carth manor, the walls were high, the defences manned... but he felt like taking a different route anyway the gates were being opened momentarily to let a single soldier slip inside... that was when he pounced. It had only been six or so rushed steps before the sword was reharnessed, arms beneath his cloak and then gave a quick lunge with his shoulder, poor guy... must have hurt like hell but at least he was inside now and that bruise would go away.

Weapons were lowered and aimed for the dragon-hide clothed wolf-man, a few of the halberds immediately falling on seeing just what kind of hide it was and the flicking tail. Corvus taking his time to size up the current defence force.

"Looks like the pounce had expanded his staff list a bit... heyup Halden, when you expecting things to kick off?"

The whimsical smirk planted itself across his face, fangs cleaming and with a quick push with his foot shoved the gate properly closed.

[Logan]

Elven Wine. Dwarven Ale. Drinking was the true universal language for all cultures and tongues, and it was also Logan's biggest downfall. He could spend days at any given tavern downing drink after drink without ever noticing the world passing him by. It had become a ritual of sorts for the veteran in an attempt to blank out the memories of his past. He'd become an alcoholic and he didn't really give a rat's ass. Oh, he knew it, but why should he have cared? His eyes peered deeply into the half-empty glass before him. Deep within the depths of the foamy liquid Logan hid his past, his emotions, his pain. Deep within...

As Logan lost himself a hand fell heavy upon his shoulder. The psion didn't notice nor did he care who it was. They either wanted him to tell stories of his past battles and wars or to challenge him to create their own twisted epic tale of victory. "McCloud, you need to snap yourself out of this funk," came a voice so completely unfamiliar to Logan that he continued to just stare blankly into the glass before him. The hooded figure merely shook his head as he looked down at the veteran, and then violently swung his arm at the glass sending it flying into the wall opposite the bar. "Damnit, Logan! What the hell has happened to you," the man hidden by his hood demanded with a clear seriousness to his question. The psion turned slowly to face the man as his hands slowly lowered to rest gently upon the hilts of his blades.

"What do you want? Do you want to hear stories of the great and epic battles and wars of the past? Or perhaps you want to challenge the great Logan McCloud? I don't do autographs, bud, so perhaps you should just walk your sorry ass out the door and leave me be," the psion exclaimed with quite a bit of force. Anger was building from his alcoholic stupor, and rage was sure to follow. The hooded figure shook his head disappointedly,"I'd been told you'd given up on yourself, but I hadn't believed it. I guess I was wrong --," the last word interrupted as the psion lashed out his own response. "Screw you. You don't know me or anything about me. You only know the stories you've been told about me. They left a part out, though," the psion paused at his last words.

"You're right, Logan. They did leave a part out. The part where Logan McCloud drank himself into the grave," the last word trickled out from the figure's mouth like a sword piercing the psion's side. The blood flowed as the tears welled in the eyes of the veteran. He stood up and unsheathed his swords. "What do you want with me? I have nothing left to offer this place. I've given so much of myself that I am empty, with nothing left to give. You don't need me, so just go," the psion shouted as he fought back the pain and tears. The figure simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. His hand reached over and dropped the paper onto the bar. "I don't want anything with you, but someone who asked me to give you this does. I strongly suggest you take a reality check, McCloud...you do have something left to offer," with the last words the man turned and walked away. The entire bar was silent as the sound of the door slamming shut echoed off the wooden walls.

The psion picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it. His eyes scanned over it as he read it to himself.

"Mr. McCloud,

You don't know who we are, nor would you care. We, however, are well acquainted with you. Your name is well known among our circle of friends, and we are in need of your specialized services. You see, we have a small bit of a problem that won't seem to go away on it's own like we'd originally hoped. A terror has plagued our family for some time now, and we need you to assist us by taking care of this terror. You will of course be rewarded quite handsomely, and for a man of your experience and ability it should be a walk in the park. You will find your target will bring some challenge, as she will not just lay down and go away, but we don't anticipate this being a huge problem for yourself.

Logan, your target is a woman by the name of Madison Freebird. You will find her within the confines of Radasanth, however, we are aware she is planning an expedition to the snowy mountains of Salvar. To prove you've successfully completed your mission, simply bring us the brooch of sapphire that she carries on her at all times. She will not just let it go, so you will have to dispose of her to acquire this possession of hers. You will find us in the same tavern that the letter was delivered to you.

Sincerely,
Michael and Justin"

Logan's eyes closed as he sighed. At least he had a purpose now, a mission. Someone needed him to take care of something, and it was better than nothing. The veteran thrust the letter into his pocket as he went to his room and packed his belongings for the trip to Radasanth and possibly to Salvar.

-------------------------------------

Logan arrived in Radasanth within a day of receiving the letter. He travelled quickly and for the most part, fairly light. The veteran sought the help of a friend of his at the boat docks. James was a captain of the vessel that would be leaving for Salvar in a couple of days, and had informed Logan that his mark had requested travel with them. The psion packed his things once more as he boarded the vessel. A small smile formed upon his lips as he spotted the woman. At least she was hot. The boat set sail and Logan made himself scarce. Throughout the trip on the water, the pison avoided all contact with the woman and everyone else except James. He let James' crew keep tabs on his mark, and James kept him informed of any important news. She was headed to Knife's Edge.

They arrived at the Salvar docks and the psion disembarked quickly, keeping himself hidden and out of the way. He thanked James and tossed him a few extra gold for his trouble. The psion trailed the woman for a few days before coming across the small town of Korath Springs. She entered the tavern and Logan watched for quite a while as couple of other figures entered and exited. He knew if he entered too soon after her, she'd become suspicious. The psion smiled broader now. It felt good to be back in action. He moved for the door and entered quietly, grabbing a seat across the room from the woman.

The veteran listened to the conversations, keying in on the unsettled atmosphere around him. His focus yielded some information about the church and something about her sticking around for a while. The psion ordered a glass of milk. If he was going to accomplish his goal, he knew he had to sober up a little. He continued to eye the woman, knowing full well that something was going to go down, but not really caring what.

[Beauty]

The soldier that had just entered the gates glared at the wolf-man for a moment, then straightened.

“It’s Halding. Good to see you again, Mr. MacCallum. I’m on my way inside to report to Lord Carth. If you would follow me, you can explain why you are climbing over the gates instead of seeking proper entrance and after my report I will answer your questions as best I can.”

Not waiting to see if Corvus followed him or not, he hurried across the courtyard and inside the mansion. The captain was very preoccupied with the report that he had to make to the Lord. He was well aware of Talenoff’s report yesterday, but he wanted to be the one to give this report. He’d left Talenoff in charge at the town gate, but had needed to run the last two blocks due to the gathering mob.

This is getting out of hand. I hope he has some kind of contingency plan.

Arriving at the door to Carth’s office, he knocked briefly, then walked inside, closing the door behind him before anyone could follow.

“Lord Carth, you have a problem.”

Carth had not been paying attention. He had not heard the knock and was very surprised to hear Halding’s tense voice. He was not alone in his office and had a very good reason for not paying attention. That reason was Lady Venus, his lady friend.

Lady Venus smiled at Gregory, kissed him lightly then rose from her seat in his lap. Her long, blonde tresses were slightly rumpled, but she either didn’t care or was pretending not to care. She smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress, whispered something in Carth’s ear that made him chuckle, then departed. Once she was gone, Carth glared at his captain.

“You better have a damned good reason for interrupting me, Captain Halding.”

“I assure I do, my Lord. The peasants are in full revolt. They’re arming themselves as we speak. I do not doubt that they will try to storm the gates before the day is out.”

Carth was silent a moment as he digested this information. He had hoped to be able to put off doing anything about this revolt. He had even dared dream that the peasants would see through the Church’s lies and ignore what was being said about him. Sighing, he propped his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers in front of his face.

“Get a message to the gates, bar them shut and do not let anyone in or out until this is all over. Lock the gates to the manor and double the guard on them and the rest of the wall. We have enough food and water stored here to last a few months. Hopefully, we can wait them out and they’ll come to their senses.”

Standing he began pacing the floor while Halding looked on, waiting to see if there were any further directions.

“Is there anything else, my lord?”

“No, just be sure that the soldiers inside the manor grounds will be loyal to me.”

Halding saluted and exited the office, leaving Carth to his pacing. As he left he heard the frustration in Carth’s voice as muttered loudly.

“I’m not my father, damn it. Why won’t they listen?”

While Halding rushed off to carry out his newest order and Lord Carth paced his office, a mob had begun to gather outside the tavern. Most had pitchforks or hoes in their hands, others had family heirlooms in their hands. Swords and spears that hadn’t seen the light of day in several generations dotted the crowd as angry muttering crescendoed to a low buzz.

Inside the tavern, the barkeeper kept glancing out the window at the crowd, hoping that things wouldn’t escalate too far and damage his establishment.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

The villagers were restless.

When they began to form a crowd outside the tavern, I decided to take my leave. Rowdy men wielding farm tools wasn't exactly my sort of scene. I could hear Father What's-his-nuts rallying the villagers, whipping them into a frenzy with his dogmatic preaching about the frank ineptitude of the lord who lived in the manor at the edge of town. What disturbed me more was how quickly they lapped up his words, buying into it. But who was I to judge these people? The only reason I came to this frozen wasteland was to make some money as a hired dagger.

A small chill traveled up my spine as the cold afternoon air filled my lungs. My footsteps crunched lightly in the soft, thin layer of pure snow that covered the ground. Other than the tavern, the town appeared a bit on the desolate side. Houses stood, seeming bereft of all life. My guess was that whoever wasn't present for their religious brainwashing bailed the fuck out of town to avoid the bloodshed. "Perhaps you should stick around for a while, you'll see that not all of this 'action' you speak of happens where you'd think it should." The priest's words echoed in the back of my mind. I chuckled to myself: Perhaps he was right.

I thought about turning back and joining the rebellion as a bit of a warm up for when I went to Knife's Edge, but my feet continued to carry me towards the town gate. After several minutes, I arrived there, but to my dismay there were armed guards posted by it--and it was closed. I stood in confusion as one of them approached me.

"Sorry, miss, but we've received orders from Lord Carth that nobody is to enter or leave this town until the situation is under control." He was dressed in a regular guard's garb: A bit of dull steel armor here and there, brown leather covering everything else. His piercing green eyes shone out from underneath his helmet.

"I beg your pardon?" I crossed my arms and cocked a defiant eyebrow at him.

"Due to the circumstances, we cannot allow you or anybody else in or out of this town." The guard's voice was monotone, as if the response was programmed into his mind, ready to be regurgitated at a moment's notice. I glared at the small group of guards for a few seconds.

That fucking priest, I thought to myself as I whipped around and left the gate in a huff. I was going to get out of here one way or another, even if I had to climb the walls that surrounded the town. I made my way down a few side streets, until I reached the tall structure. Surprisingly enough, there was nobody around, but also noted that there weren't any decent footholds. Putting my hand up to my chin, I came to the conclusion that I'd need some sort of makeshift grappling hook to scale the wall with.

I was about to begin my search when I felt a heavy hand grace my shoulder, followed by a gruff voice. "Father Turrothe would like to--"

His sentence was cut off by a cry when I snatched his hand by the wrist and spun around. In a flash, I was behind him, cradling his arm in a hammerlock. I kicked out one of his knees, forcing him down on it. My free arm wrapped around his neck until I could hear him struggle to breathe. He furiously tapped on my arm with his left hand, wishing that I would let him go. Unintelligible words gurgled in his throat as my choke hold tightened. My eyes shot up and met his friend, who raised his hands in defense and wisely backed away.

"Whoa, calm down! The Father would just like to speak with you, that's all! H-he sent us to look for you! I swear, lady, we didn't mean you any harm!" The second man's voice was a bit shaky, surprised with my unexpected outburst.

After a second, I blushed. I slowly released my hold on the man, who immediately rose to his feet and joined his friend, gasping for hair and cradling his throat. "Sorry," I murmured quietly.

***

Father Turrothe met me behind the tavern. I could hear the disturbed din of the villagers out front. It sounded like they were ready to attack within a moment's notice. Turrothe dismissed my two escorts, pausing for a few seconds before he got down to business.

"As you may know already, they shut the gates."

"No shit," I replied coldly.

The priest grunted as a small smile appeared on his mature face. "Actually, I'm kind of glad they did. You see, I thought about asking you to do a favor for me--no, it's more like a job than anything else." He produced a hooded cloak from behind his back. It was as black as night, and made of a beautiful satin. He offered it to me. "Seeing as there's no possible way I could reason with you to join our attack upon Carth's manor, I decided to play it your way."

Reluctantly, I took the cloak from him. It was very light; definitely not good for protecting anyone from the harsh climate of Salvar. "What do you mean?"

"I'd like to draw out a... How do you assassin types put it..."

"You mean put out a hit on someone?"

Turrothe snapped his fingers and pointed at me. "Yes, that's it. I'd like to put a hit out on Lord Carth." I stared at him as an uneasy silence built between us. "It's not like you have anything better to do..."

"Let me guess," I sharply said, cutting him off. "Lord Carth himself." The priest nodded. I figured as much. "So what's the cloak for?"

"That's a cloak that will allow the wearer to become invisible for a short period of time. Last time I used it, it lasted me thirty seconds. The only trick to using it is you have to imagine yourself going invisible. And when you want to be seen again, just imagine yourself visible."

I looked down at the pile of cloth in my hands. "Last I knew, you Ethereal Sway guys frowned upon magic in all forms."

He scoffed at me. "I prefer to think that the cloak was blessed, not enchanted."

I nodded slightly, deciding not to pursue the matter. "So, let's say I agree to do this. How much would you be willing to pay me?" I was kind of surprised with the words that came out of my mouth; but then again, the offers of a throat to slit and a few gold coins were enough to sway my interests. I guess you could say it was my vice.

Turrothe pointed at the cloak. "I'll let you keep that, and you can spoil anything you want from the manor."

"Fair enough," I replied while examining the cloak. It would come in handy for sneaking in and killing Lord Carth. A small wave of bloodthirsty eagerness overcame me. I haven't gone on a good assassination mission in quite a while.

[Logan]

Logan sat patiently in the corner out of sight and hopefully out of mind. His whole aim was to simply remain hidden until he found the perfect moment to strike. Within moments a new face entered the tavern which approached the mark and spoke quietly for a moment. Then, without prevocation, Logan's mark shot out of her seat and had grasped the new man's arm behind his back. The veteran looked on impressed, but not concerned. The two talked for a moment more before his mark released her grip.

They left together, Logan still tailing his mark back just far enough to not be noticed. Just a short walk away was the church, and the veteran's mind questioned concernedly, "She can't be associated with the church, could she? No, there's no way! Not that it matters, but still." The psion had a thing against killing those associated with the church.

It went a long ways back for Logan. The first time he'd entered into the church he was welcomed with open arms. Unfortunately, at the time, the psion had just completed the most insane series of events. All of which stemmed from a serious battle with his own mind, fighting off a demon of extreme power. It had taken the powerful telepath Sei Orlogue to help Logan defeat the great demon inside. The battle was intense, and far from final, but it helped the psion learn to deal with his own internal demons.

Anytime he stumbled or fell flat on his face metaphorically speaking he found the strength and courage to also get back up and dust himself off. He never let his shortcomings, after that point, become his ultimate undoing. It had become widely known that while Logan was nowhere near perfect, his internal strength was far superior to most men -- and women.

The psion crept around the side of the church and found a window that allowed him to watch his mark. He looked on as the Father and his target talked for a little while, culminating in the target being given a cloak that seemed of great value, but he really couldn't see for himself why. It seemed rather ordinary, but he could tell by the way the mark examined it that it was highly important or valuable.

He focused in on the eyes of the Father and then on the movements of the mark. Logan really couldn't determine what their relationship was or why she was even here, but he assumed it had something to do with that cloak. He would have to wait for another chance to attack, however, since he swore he'd never fight in a church again. Not after last time. The haunting memory of the echoing music that invaded that Cathedral still held true in his ears. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Focus, damn you. Focus! You're on a mission. None of this bullcrap," the psion beat himself up in an attempt to return his focus.