Light With a Sharpened Edge

[Earthwalker]

Closed to Herald

Note: Any bunnying that occurs in this thread was probably worked out ahead of time, for the sake of keeping the plot moving.

The man in Radasanth who had given Leander his letter had been a shady character – not the kind he would have normally accepted a job from – but jobs had been scarce at best lately, and he couldn’t afford to turn it down. The letter still smelled of alcohol and other, more esoteric scents, cloying and sickly, that Leander couldn’t even hope to identify. He hoped fervently that the scent wouldn’t linger in his bag after he had delivered the message to “Raphael” in the small mountain town of Borough. “This guy, Raphael, you see?” the trapper who had hired him had said, exhaling strongly after each statement. “He’s thin, you see? You probably find him in a bar or inn, you see?” Leander shuddered at the thought of his employer’s rancid breath. He couldn’t understand how a man could let himself grow so fetid and rotten. The man’s preliminary pay, however, had allowed Leander to restock his dwindling supply of hunting arrows, and pick up a good-sized chunk of bread and cheese at the local market, assuring his ability to eat for a good time to come.

And Leander was certainly feeling the effects of his purchases now. His entire body felt alive with energy, despite the fact that he had spent the morning running up the foothills that led to Borough’s farming community, two days travel out from the South Road. Perched atop a raised section of earth, the town over-looked large pastures used for raising sheep, as well as a few crop-farmers further east. The land to the north of the town was largely rocky and unusable by the farmers, and thus was relegated to a romping ground for the local youth. A stream of some considerable size ran through the stones of the area, providing the town with its fresh water. To the south, a small stand of trees grew, which edged up the ridge behind it to disappear into a tendril of the great Concordia Forest. The town itself was a thrifty combination of the elements of the land around it – rocks from the north formed the foundation, while the rare two-story building incorporated a wooden upper level crafted from the trees to the south. The majority of the roofs were thatched with heather and brush harvested from the mountains, though some small number of the houses sported tacked slate atop their frames, adding to the town an integrated feel – this was not a town set down upon the foot of a mountain, but a town built into the foot of a mountain.

As his legs propelled him along the dirt track into Borough, Leander kept a lookout for the inn or tavern his unkempt employer had bid him seek. Spying a battered and weathered sign outside of one of the town’s two-story buildings, he jogged closer – further scrutiny revealed it to be a faded representation of something purple; grapes, perhaps? Pushing the door open, he found the familiar atmosphere of a mountain tavern, rugged, perhaps a mite bit unclean, but full of the scent of fine ale, brewed by men who knew their craft. Perhaps some villages had weak ales and pitiful brews, but Leander could tell by scent that this was not one of them. To overdrink, his father had always said, was a gross wrong – but to enjoy a fine beverage now and then was nothing more than expected. His mother had not said so much on the subject, but he’d seen her swig down harder alcohols than his father ever touched more than once or twice, and wink whenever she caught him looking.

However, the message came first. As his eyes adjusted to the fire-lit interior of the tavern, he spied only three other individuals besides himself in the bar. The first, who appeared to be the barkeep, wore a stained apron that accentuated a moderately-sized beer-gut. He was conversing with the other two, who sat together on the other side of the bar, wearing matching longswords and tunics. The closer of the two was gesturing in the air while explaining something to the barkeep, who was listening intently. The further of the two, shorter by a fraction of an inch but with hair down to his shoulders to compensate, had an amused expression on his face, which broke out into a slow chuckle as the first man concluded his tale. The barkeep stared for a moment, and burst out into a hearty round of laughter before slapping the both of them on the shoulders and offering them another drink. As the two men drank up, the longer-haired one murmured something to the other, of which Leander heard only a name – “Raphael.”

What luck! Leander had hardly expected to find a lead on his delivery so soon – he had been prepared to wait until close to nightfall before hearing anything of Raphael, and here he had heard the name before even being in the town for four minutes. Striding over to the men, he addressed the two of them in a polite tone. “I just heard one of you mention the name Raphael – if its not a bother, would one of you mind directing me to him?" He indicated the red sash over his shoulder, proclaiming his status as a courier to those before him, "I’ve got a message for him.”

[Herald]

“... ‘I saw her,’ the carpenter said. ‘I’d nail her!’” Raphael leaned back with an accomplished smirk as he finished the joke. Gabriel chuckled appreciatively, though he had heard the joke many times before. Apparently the barkeep had not, as he thunderously sounded his appreciation and offered them another drink, this time on the house.

Gabriel liked the atmosphere of the place. The beer was good, better than he had tasted in a while, and Raphael was becoming fast friends with Cole, the barkeep. The whole town had a pleasant feel to it, and a comfortable location between both mountains and forest. The people had all been friendly for the two days they had been there, and the little Stonybrook was a great fishing hole, especially for trout. It felt more like a vacation at a mountainside resort than anything, and the brothers were in no rush to continue their quest for riches or to continue searching for their family, though they would occasionally feel a pang of guilt that they should be enjoying themselves while the fate of their family was still unknown.

Turning his thoughts back to the present, he favored his brother with a wink as fresh mugs, filled to the brim and frothing beautifully, were placed in front of them. Raphael couldn’t seem to gulp it down fast enough. His mug was half-empty before Gabriel even touched his.

“Easy, Raphael. We wouldn’t want you to end up hammered, like the carpenter’s son.” Raphael giggled into his mug, lightly spraying Gabriel with foamy beer.

A young man, several years than either Raphael or Gabriel, approached them at the bar. “I just heard one of you mention the name Raphael – if its not a bother, would one of you mind directing me to him? I’ve got a message.” Gabriel noticed the red sash and the bag at his side. Clearly this boy was a messenger, that wasn’t the mystery here.

Who could be sending us a message? Is it our family? How did they know we were here? Gabriel exchanged puzzled glances with Raphael. His head was spinning with millions of possibilities. Maybe his family was in trouble? Maybe it wasn’t his family at all...could his old tutor be alive? Maybe it was a warning from the drug lords back in Jadet? Something else entirely? He was swept out of his thoughts by the sudden sound of his brothers voice that rang as loudly as the blood that was pumping through his ears. His face grew hot with anticipation, and he was sure he wasn’t the only one who could hear the rapidly quickening thumps of his heartbeat.

“Well, I’m Raphael. Who did you say this message was from, now?”

Gabriel tensed, bracing himself. He had to close his eyes to keep the world from falling...his eyes were losing their focus in his daze, which wasn’t helped by the bitter beer that he could still taste on his lips

[Earthwalker]

This was Raphael? Wonderful! Leander hadn't dared to imagine this being so simple. Usually, he'd end up searching the town twice over, asking each and every person if they knew where someone was, only to have the first person he'd talk to come running up to him a day and a half later, to tell him that he hadn't realized that Leander had been talking about that Zezedelious (how many people with that name are there?), and then direct him to a prominently located house Leander must have run past at least three times in his search. Then no one would be home, so Leander would end up waiting on the steps till long after the sun went down for the man to stagger up to him, dead drunk, and take the letter without even tipping him for his efforts. This time, however, the recipient was in the first place he had looked, mostly sober, and perhaps even good for a tip - if nothing else, he seemed nice, nothing like the smelly man who had given him the letter in the first place.

Cheerfully, Leander pulled the letter from his pouch and held it out. "It was from a man named Zeze-" Suddenly, motion burst out from their side - a dark form lunged between Raphael and Leander's outstretched arm, deftly removing the letter in Leander's hand from his grasp. As Leander toppled backwards in surprise, his backside thumping heavily against the floorboards, he was only dully aware of the pair of throwing daggers hurling at the man he had been delivering a letter to only moments before. Even as the daggers flew, the dark assailant, letter clutched firmly in hand, made a mad dash for the door. Shouting his displeasure, the barkeep ducked down behind the bar, both for cover, and to reach the crossbow he kept there. Somehow, even while stunned, Leander could keep track of all this - acting on the information his eyes were gathering, however was a different story. Shocked, Leander sat on the floor, trying to gather his wits enough to act.

[Herald]

Gabriel was concentrating on the letter as it emerged from the boy's pouch, as though he could discern it's contents if he stared at it hard enough. The messanger was saying somehing about who it was from when the letter disappeared in a flurry of rapid movement. His reaction was a choked-off cry of surprise, and he felt the familiar sensation of his sword hilt without fully realizing he had grabbed at his weapon.

He stared blankly as the thief burst through the door, fleeing into the streets, and only when Gabriel noticed the crimson stain spreading on his brother's shirt did he decide to give chase.

"Help him!" He shouted at the boy as he dashed after the assailant. Gabriel could hardly believe this was happening...only seconds before he had been perfectly at ease, enjoying this quiet little town. Now his world was suddenly a riot of action. And his brother...he didn't have time to check how badly he was hurt, or if he was even still alive. Whoever caused all this chaos will pay, he thought grimly. And pay dearly...

Running through the streets of a generally quiet, very small mountain town waving around a naked blade was bound to attract some attention, particularly if chasing someone doing something similar. Gabriel wasn't gaining any ground on his quarry, but he had gained a follower. At a glance, he judged him to be a young man perhaps in the employ of the town guard. He didn't spare a second glance or thought to the fellow accompanying him.

All his attention returned to the fiend who had assaulted his brother, and stolen the potentially precious letter. He quickly discerned two things: it was definitely a woman, and she was definitely getting away. She already had a good head start on him to begin with, and it seemed she was in better shape than he was, literaly leaving him in the dust. Buildings blurred Gabriel as he shot past them, he wasn't running slowly, she was just running so much faster...his lungs began to burn, and his side protested painfully, and Gabriel slowed to a trot, then a walk, then finally to a complete stop.

Sheathing his sword in frustration, he bent over as he gasped for air. He had failed his family again, and his brother had paid the price. He couldn't even catch the woman who had done it...beaten by a mere woman? While his lungs burned with each breath, his face burned with shame and humiliation.

When he had righted himself and regulated his breathing, he noticed the man who had followed him standing patiently and politely to the side, waiting to speak with him. Gabriel acknowledged him with a courteous nod, and the man approached him.

"I'm a deputy in the town guard. What happened?" The man was only a few years older then Gabriel, with a rugged, weatherbeaten face that was plainly no stranger to hard work. His eyes shone with kindness and concern, but also the reservation and critical judgment of most soldiers and peacekeepers.

What happened is that my brother may be dead and the woman who did it is getting away! He wanted to scream, to shake this man and tell him to bring the woman to justice. His anger threatened to overtake him, send him into a violent rage, even though Gabe was not typically a violent person. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that this man was only trying to help.

"Why don't I take you back to the tavern, and I can show you?" Without waiting for a response, he turned brusquely and briskly strode towards the tavern, towards his brother. As the rage and adrenaline faded away, reason returned, and brought back an overriding concern for his brother. Raphael could be dead or dying, and he was off chasing women in the streets, trying to recover some stupid letter...he picked up the pace.

Hang on, Raph...I'm coming...!