The Abandoned Son of True Concordia

[Yari Rafanas]

Often times one would read of the wonders of Concordia in the countless books and in the journals of has-been adventurers and tired veterans. Pages and pages are dedicated to describing its beauty, its rich abundance of life, and all the wondrous romances that occur under its canopy. However, one finds that these are only the tales that tortured souls and hopeful ignorants wish to spread in an attempt to hide the world from what truly lies within those woods.

The harsh truth exists beyond the beaten paths and the industrious lumbertown of Underwood. Passed the shady hills and the towering oaks; through the dense overgrowth and untamed flowers: there lies an ever-changing forest so unpredictable and powerful that only those seeking true freedom from the rules and restrictions of the world and those who challenge them survive. Horrible spiders and uncontrollable horrors lurk behind the barks and within every shadow. The graves of thousands rest under the soft soil – a reminder of the wars and evil that could erupt at any moment. Here these hidden dangers of the true Concordia were only known by a few and their brothers.

The King of Thieves could see his home had not changed.

His return to Concordia had yet to been fully realized. While returning to his roots and settling into the old grounds, the bandit royalty had heard the cries of death and the echoes of war nearby. Feeling a sense of ownership of these lands despite his long disappearance, he rushed towards the noise. He mostly expected a lost traveler's ravaged corpse to greet him. He was not fully prepared to stumble into the clearing and see before him a dead drow nearly torn in two from either a sloppy broadsword strike or a powerful claw. He noticed next that the deceased still carried with him a small set of knives and a bloodied katana. Naturally the king's greedy grin returned as thoughts turned to pillaging.

*SNAP*

Was the attacker still nearby? Silently the thief lunged for the shadows, his dark cloak hugged tightly as he hid from behind the largest of the nearby trees. His fingers slid to his sides and he thumbed the hilt of his daggers as he watched for whatever approached the clearing.

The drow's blood would not be the last to drop here.

[Winterhair]

"Fuckin' drow." Vincent spat as he cleaned the dark elf's blood from his blade. Unlike the so named species, the thick liquid wasn't dark at all, nor was it red like that of a human's. Instead it was a thin white substance that reminded the swordsman of other acts of violence that didn't involve weapons. Or, they did, if they were kinky enough. In any case, it covered his sword from his duel with the drow.

Well, he couldn't exactly call it a "duel". The guy had shown up, brandishing a katana in one hand and a knife in the other, and said something about Vincent killing his sister and that he was there for revenge. Or something. Vincent hadn't paid much attention to the guy's rambling, only to the fact that someone was trying to kill him. Again. Seriously, what was up with this? Kill one women and suddenly you had a thousand people coming after you screaming for revenge, and kill them and you have even more. It was a neverending cycle of bloody violence, and ever since that slut Samantha had left him he'd found that his only purpose in life these days was just to kill, kill, and kill over again. Following the cycle blindly he'd managed to get himself lost in the woods of Concordia, but that had suited him just fine. He'd been walking alone, brooding his dark thoughts when that fucking drow had come out no where and cut his arm. And they said he had no manners.

Walking over to where the body of the drow, nearly torn in half, lay glassy-eyed, he eyed the katana and the knives laying next to them. Should he take them...? Nah. With a heavy sigh he sheathed his claymore upon his back and cracked his neck. "Next time I should just take a fucking boat." He muttered to himself.

He wasn't surprised when himself answered. Yeah, but then how would you satisfy that bloodlust of yours, hmm?

He groaned aloud and hit his head with the palm of his hand. "Oh, shut up you. I'm in no mood."

You always say that.

"Because it's always true, goddamit!" He roared out loud, and several animals scattered in fright. One didn't get out of the way fast enough and without a second thought he stepped on the chipmunk, crushing it beneath his boot. "Can't you give me a fucking break in there? It's bad enough I--" A sound distracted him from berating the voice further, something different from the chittering of the woodland animals or the constant whisper of the wind. No...it had sounded like....

Did you hear that?

"Yeah, I did." He muttered, and drew his long double-edged sword from the slot in his black coat again, holding it slightly out to the side with one hand. At eighty pounds, holding the sword with just one hand was a pretty impressive feat, and had he not been so concentrated on his surroundings Vincent might have been impressed himself. But he knew he'd heard it. The flap of a cloak.

"Come out, whereva' you are. I know you're there." Silver eyes glared balefully around at the darkness and cover the trees provided, and Vincent's already damaged mind filled his imagination with things bidden from horror stories or creatures from the Abyss.

[Yari Rafanas]

The young king startled slightly, tucking himself closer to the tree as the words bounced off the branches. He had been noticed, and now he was being summoned to battle. A quick peek from behind the bark revealed the challenger as a silver-haired brute—the kind of man to carry a big sword with an equally-large mouth. It was evident that this man had been the killer of the dark elf from the wound on his arm. His stance and demeanor reminded the thief of many a warrior he had met in the past. From the faceless half-demons crowding tournament grounds such as the Cell to even old friends-turned-bitter enemies during the Facade War, Yari Rafanas felt he had seen it all. This man would be no different. He would feel the pain of defeat at the hands of the King of Thieves, son of Concordia. His possessions and possibly even his life would be forfeit.

A pair of mythril blades were unsheathed, catching what light made it through Concordia's canopy that accented the weapons' sharp curves and jagged teeth. Yari held them forward as he confidently strolled from behind the tree and into the clearing where the brute stood. His cloak floated behind him and revealed his body covered in dark leathers and prevalida studs, quality armor crafted by the Red Hand that Yari had adorned since his old alliance with the draconian Ithermoss. Though his appearance was by no means noble, heroic, or even terrifying, Yari felt his arrogant swagger would be enough to make his opponent aware of his violent intent.

“Alright,” smirked Rafanas. “Here I am! Is it everything you were expecting?”

The youth exploded forward, deftly stepping over the corpse of the drow and closing the gap between the two warriors in less than a blink of an eye. Yari's knee was thrown forward, capitalizing on the height difference by aiming low and with force enough that his target's unborn spawn would still feel the attack for generations to come.

[Winterhair]

Any other person most likely would have stopped and asked the stranger why he was attacking. They would have put away their weapons or kept them on guard, just in case. Any other man would have tried to make conversation with the mysterious stranger, and probably would have been caught off guard by his sudden appearance. But this silver eyed maniac, murderer and the violator of hundreds of women and men, was not like other people.

Before Vincent could say "Not really." to the man standing before him, he dashed forward in a burst of speed, jagged-edged daggers in each hand. What was it about him that made people want to kill him? Vincent thought to himself. Everywhere he'd gone and been, there had been warriors, bounty hunters, even mages that had sought his blood for their own purposes. Vengeance, anger, sadism, it didn't matter. Vincent had killed every single one of them, and each drop of their blood upon his sword was another life his steel had tasted. Sometimes, he wished that he could find someone strong enough to kill him and end the violent cycle he had begun...but that someone had never come, and he'd given up hope that he would find that person.

As the youth moved, Vincent thought to himself the same thoughts that his opponent had: This man would be no different. He was fast, and had adorned himself with pretty weapons and trinkets here and there, but the psychopath had encountered fast warriors before. As soon as the confident man had twitched Vincent was moving, taking his giant blade in both hands to increase his own speed as he stepped forward, slight off to the side, then spun his back foot around. True to his unconscious prediction, the smaller warrior had launched himself forward, one knee thrust forward as if to jab the pscyho with it, and at that ridiculous thought Vincent grinned slightly. Foolish boy. Without pausing Vincent swung his claymore at his opponent's unprotected back, meaning to cut him in half as he'd done to the drow. May his spirit reach whatever god he worshiped.

[Yari Rafanas]

Not yet.

The subtle deities of the great forest let loose a heavy sigh. Leaves rustled, bark creaked, and life retreated from the clearing as the gods complained of the conflict below. The drow's murder had caused only a slight stir, but now it had escalated to include a rather unwelcome bandit. Though thought once to be a true savior of these woods, Yari Rafanas now spit in the faces of the beings beyond with his rude resurrection and return to these grounds. And for what cause? Bloodshed? The spirits saw no desire in the youthful king to avenge the slain dark-elf. Surely with such a brief return this was not territorial. No, only arrogance and greed burned within Rafanas recycled soul. Should the boy meet his end, Concordia certainly would not embrace him.

As whatever luck would have it, the Concordian spirits would not see their abandoned son slain just yet. The delyn blade caught the dark fabric of Yari's cloak as the momentum of his attack carried the thief forward and into a agile roll. He had gathered himself and was to his feet facing his challenger almost as soon as he hit the soft ground, ready to move forward despite his miss. The shredded remains of his shroud floated gently onto the grass.

“Fair enough.”

He was both shocked and impressed that the brute could muster up enough speed to avoid his knee—let alone swing the heavy blade so powerfully. Perhaps simply testing this warrior would not be enough. A killer such as this likely demanded his full attention and wrath.

“You probably deserve death by the hand of some zealous knight or a farmer boy destined for greatness for what you obviously are so good at,” teased the King of Thieves, giving a slight nod at the dead drow. “But this is my forest, and you'll not be having that. A knight has no rule here. Boy heroes are not born from these lands. This is a forest welcoming only my brothers and me. Leave your possessions and weapon behind and run far away, and you may one day see the death you deserve. Stay...”

The bandit crouched low, mythril blades raised.

“And be forgotten.”

[Winterhair]

Be careful, Violator. This man means to end you.

You think I don't know that?

I think you underestimate him.

Turning his head, Vincent spat to the side. He'd heard such petty warnings and speeches from previous would-be avengers, and they no longer mattered to the swordsman. He wasn't about to drop his possessions and walk away because this scrap of a man said so. True, he managed to have avoided being meat for the vultures (or for Vincent himself; he was feeling a bit peckish), and his stance spoke of one also used to the strains of battle. He knew how to fight, whoever this man was. But so did the silver-eyed beast he'd so foolishly attacked. Well, one speech deserved another, he supposed.

"Forgotten?" He growled at his crouched opponent, walking slowly forward with his claymore resting upon his shoulder. He picked at something in his teeth that had been bothering him; probably the remains of that girl he'd slaughtered just the other day. She'd been wild, but tasted good. Laughing quietly at the thought he returned to the problem at hand. "Fuckin' gods, that's the best offer I've gotten in weeks. If only those bastards would forget me, eh?" He smiled his infamous grin at knife-wielding bandit before him, showing the sharpened canines and the flecks of blood still decorating the otherwise white teeth. Stopping about five feet away from the man he spoke up again. "Tell ya what. I don't know what gripe you got with me, and I really don't give a fuck either. Whoever hired ya to kill me is obviously too much of a pussy to do the job themselves, and I'm kinda sick of them tryin' to kill me every five minutes. I'll give ya something to take back to whatever bastards hired you so ya can say you killed me, eh?" Cracking his neck and his fingers he lifted the blade from his shoulders and stabbed it point first in the ground before him. "Otherwise I'll eat you. I'm hungry."

[Yari Rafanas]

The young king eyed the sword that pierced his homeland thoughtfully. There was not much to say about a man (or beast) that would part with his weapon so easily. He could be a coward—his threatening words hollow and simply meant to distract. He could be a liar—offering the blade in hopes Yari would take it over the other trinkets or valuables hidden on his person. Perhaps he was truly just tired of all the violence and carnage that likely followed him down each path. Many an Althanian could relate to strife and conflict haunting one's journey. For some, it was all they knew. For the bandit king, it was commonplace. Yari pondered this only momentarily, as his needs far outweighed those of the disgusting warrior before him.

“Hmph. I don't remember offering to bargain, brute,” Yari replied as he sheathed one of his pair of blades and smirked. “And I don't care if there's a price on your head. This is just a robbery—an opportunity to collect on the spoils of your conflict with our departed friend. You are just another unlucky bastard caught by the King of Thieves. Now give up!”

Yari threw his his free arm forward, peppering the area before him with orbs of bright light, aiming to punctuate his demands with his powerful time magic. The leaden light would sink into his opponent's body, anchoring him to the earth and slowing his every muscle. There would be no avoiding the swift end that would soon follow.

[Winterhair]

Dodge those! The voice in his head screamed at him, and every single muscle jumped as if shocked by electricity. Yanking his blade out of the ground at the same time, Vincent leaped backwards as the small area before him exploded into a armada of bright lights and ominous intent. Shielding his eyes with one hand, he ducked and weaved as the small orbs of light came flying at him, and he grit his fangs as a memory entered his head. It was the memory of his first real fight at the Citadel, with an angel girl who had performed a very similar attack as to this. As the memory came his body began to heat up with anger, and one of his fangs pierced his bottom lip. Blood flowed from the small wound and, almost unconsciously, a pointed tongue came out and licked it off. So, this so called "King of Thieves" was just after his possessions, eh? Well, that made things much more simple. Vincent hadn't gotten his reputation from running away from little boys and makeshift royalty, and he wasn't about to start doing so now.

One of the orbs this "King" had thrown at him almost hit him, and he had to throw himself to the side in order to dodge it. However, upon standing up he saw that the lights had faded, and he started to laugh. "Magic, eh? Figures." He looked at the man still standing there with one dagger in his hand and his grin widened maliciously. "Well then, I guess you and I can skip these pleasantries, mister 'king of thieves', and just get down to it." He licked his lips and his eyes widened with his intent. "Who knows? Maybe ya'll taste good."

He didn't wait for his opponent to respond. Swinging his sword like a giant meat cleaver he launched himself at the thief, silver eyes wide and swirling now that his blood was stirring. The giant delyn claymore came swinging around in a horizantal sweep that hummed with the force behind it, and his black coat flew out behind him to reveal the multitude of scars and stains he'd gathered over the years.

[Yari Rafanas]

The second of of the two shark blades found its way back into Yari's hand as the thief watched his target dance through the spheres. Chunks of earth flung upwards as the brute's feet kicked and the time magic showered the floor. The soil hung in the air, lingering as if gravity could not muster the strength to pull them back down. Time took hold of the tiny bits of rock and grass, slowing their decent through this dimension to a crawl. A pace that could not match the swift counterattack brought on by the murderous swordsman.

The delyn edge droned through the air, nearly removing Yari's legs as they catapulted the bandit upward and forward towards his attacker. The brigand's body twisted gracefully as he spun upside down, his arrogant gaze fixated on the blood-stained grin before him. “Fall!” he cried—two legendary weapons held under his arms cut downward as he reached the apex of his jump just over the brute. The daggers' jagged teeth aimed to hook, tear and spread the sadistic smile into a horrific maw more fitting of the foul-mouthed fiend.

The King of Thieves landed with an audible thud, falling to his right elbow to support his weight as his left leg swept outward and back in a fluid sweeping motion towards the swordsman's feet. Yari's impatience was evident in his voice.

“Fall!”

[Winterhair]

Unlike other warriors, Vincent did not feel the sting of disappointment as his blade cut through empty space instead of his target. Rather, he felt a surge of excitement akin to lust go through his veins, and if it was even possible that insane grin that decorated his visage widened to reveal even more sharp, pointed teeth. The bandit leapt with amazing agility over the swordsman's head, crying out as he slashed at Vincent's face with twin mythril daggers. He was too fast for the warrior to dodge completely, but the silver eyed beast managed to jerk his head to side a little, and one of the sharkish daggers cut into his cheek and ripped a wound into Vincent's already scarred face. It drew itself all the way across to his ear where his toughened skin gave way, and the psycho spun himself around with a hiss of pain. That smile upon his face, though, did not give way.

The bandit fell to the ground, and upon his own visage was a look of disbelief and impatience that his massive foe had not been killed. "Fall!" He cried out again, and with the grace and speed of an Akashiman assassin swung his left leg around at his foe's own. That speed gave way, however, to superior weight as that leg collided with Vincent's pair, and the swordsman barked out a sharp laugh that sounded more like a victory cry as his body did not give way an inch to the blow. He stepped forward and adjusted his grip upon his claymore, holding it now like a dagger.

"That the best ya got, 'King of Thieves'?" He taunted his opponent with that insane smile, and stepped forward in a huge blur of black leather and tan skin. His left hand rocketed out towards his opponent's face, palm open with grubby fingers and sharp nails to grab and tear off the thief's skin while his other arm came around and shot that humongous two-handed blade towards the opponent as well. He held it in his grip like a spear, obvious intent to pierce his opponent through and pin him to the ground where Vincent could finish his meal in leisure.