Before I Forget...

[Lavinian Ambition]

Open to Logan

Three Days ago...

Jared sighed as he looked about the retreat. It had taken a lot of effort to clean up the area, what with the monsters that were used to trudging through the ancient city. While they had worked hard on clearing it out, it always seemed there was more work to do. Jared was more than certain that at this rate, they might finally be done sometime late winter. If that was the case, well he just had to buckle in and get to work. Still it was rather annoying to get a few false calls now and again waiting for something interesting to happen about the ruined fortress. The wait was killing him, and he was fast running out of things to keep himself busy.

Kyo was off busy with a few administrative tasks, and he realized he had nothing to do currently. Not for lack of effort either, but for just lack of things, period. The last wave of creatures had been a couple of days ago, and with nothing to unload off the boats, it was obvious that there was literally nothing to do. Figuring to take the time to go write a letter to his family back in Lavinya he wiped the sweat off his brow, the swampy jungle keeping him nice and warm, despite his best efforts otherwise. As always the background chatter of insects and a few birds pervaded the area, as he looked about the area.

Moving over to the docks that had been set up he smiled to see that the boat was still there. The worn wood having shuttled countless people across and back to Talmhaidh. As the main port town, he figured it would be easy to find a courier to send word back to his family and for a moment enjoy himself. He could already taste the ale as he climbed aboard.

"You, need something human?" One of the draconians said rather sternly.

"Are you guy's heading into Talmhaidh?" He asked clearly. He knew better than to waste time dancing around things with these people. It only pissed them off, and the straightforward approach would net him more respect.

"Yes, then from there we're heading back home. Why?" Again he could detect a hint of suspicion. He had heard the Draconians were wary about humans. It made sense, considering the alternative, getting duped would not look good, and after centuries of isolation, seeing an odd creature such as humanity entering their lands made it all the more suspicious.

"I need to hit Talmhaidh, I want to send a letter off to my folks, would you mind taking me on?" He asked.

"You know how to work a ship?" The draconian said irately.

"No, but I can learn."

"Money then, I don't want you screwing things up with your ineptitude," The creature said holding out his palm.

Jared wasn't sure how much he should pay, but placed ten gold in the creature's hand. He looked human to say the least, were it not for the scales that occasionally pockmarked the skin, nor the rather reptilian red eyes of his contact. The Draconian raised an eyebrow to it before he nodded, almost respectfully, "Good, just sit below decks, we'll be there in a couple of days. I'll have your food sent down every now and then."

Jared nodded as he shouldered his pack, "Thank you."

[Logan]

The past.

It had been ages since Logan had thought back to what happened with he and Seth Dahlios, and that was probably for the best. The two had been friends – good friends – for what seemed like ages waging battles and wars on enemies both big and small. Yet fate had a way of ripping that which the psion grew attached to away, and as it so happened, the same held true with his dear friend, Seth. Come to think of it, it was ages since he last even heard word of his dear old friend – crazy bastard that he was.

Hex Magic.

It was the one goddamn thing that drove the two apart from one another, and subsequently drove Logan into a lunacy driven tirade that caused the deaths of five less than prominent Althanians. It was also the one thing that the psion could never forget. The pain, the agony, the fear, the terror, and all that was painful came swelling back into his head like the bursting of a dam that held back the waters of a mighty, mighty river. The rushing waves of memory after memory made his head throb in physical pain. It was something he could never truly shake, and something he could never truly forget.

Drunk.

He sat alone at the empty bar. The tavern by now completely devoid of life, even the barkeep had vanished into the back room to check the kegs and taps. He lowered his head into his awaiting hands. It had been a long time, a very long time.

The barkeeper exited from the backroom and set a crate of empty bottles on the counter. The bottles clanging startled the drunken bastard before him causing Logan’s head to rise. His eyes glazed over from drunkenness, he managed to slur, “Cantsha sees I'ma tryin ta resht heres?” The barkeeper shook his head in disgust. He should’ve been used to such patrons, but he never quite seemed to get over just how drunk the low-life bastards could get. “Giiivesh emeee oonesh mooore? Allrritsh,” the over the edge psion slurred out in vain.

Fucking drunk.

The barkeeper slapped the psion heavily in the face. “Son, I think you’ve had enough,” the power in the voice of the middle-aged man was noticeable, but not to the drunken stupor of the psion, “and you’d best be heading out now. Everyone else has gone.” Logan shook his head, as he tried to say something but nothing came out. The barkeeper silently cursed his misfortune as he rounded the counter and escorted the drunken man outside the bar.

[Lavinian Ambition]

Present Day - Talmhaidh

Jared moved through the port, not unused to the idea of walking between people without so much as a please or excuse me. The problem was that he had no idea where anything was, having only been here a handful of times, usually with a friend, and following dutifully behind them. The city was large and crowded with all manner of creature. Here in Talmhaidh Fae, Draconian, and Human cultures blended with the other races to create a cultural pot not unlike Radasanth, if only a bit less human and more the former.

Such as all ports go, this one was typical. Busy crowds, crowded architecture, no manners, it was almost like he had never left Otaria as he made his way through the city. He moved about the streets, remembering the chief difference between here and the port Otaria. Guards walked the streets, much like Lavinya to keep the peace, their bright steel armor shining in the sunlight as it bore down on them. Jared was still up in the air about the weather, as having come from Reven, where it was decidedly cooler this time of year. Still it was a pleasant change, having rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, revealing the rather garish scar on his forearm, where a long sword had nearly removed his ability to use that arm. It matched one on his chest, and another that was faint above his eyebrow.

The city itself was kept clean, probably by the magic of the Fae truth be told. They floated about, making it slightly easier on Jared, for he was almost afraid he would step on one of the smaller variety. However, in the bright sunlight, they took to the air, making it much easier for him and the other land locked creatures. The buildings themselves appeared to be mud based buildings, sculpted into being rather than the brick and mortar he was used to seeing, or even the wood based. Perhaps it was because of the occasional storms that came through, but he was sure there was some practical application to the buildings.

Moving through the streets he sighed as he finally walked up to a Draconid guard. The creature seemed rather annoyed with Jared as he asked quickly, "Beg your pardon, but where is the local Courier?"

The Draconid glared at Jared for awhile, and he could see the cogs turning in its head before he finally asked, "Is that a joke human? Cause it isn't funny."

Jared frowned as he said, "Sorry, I'm not sure I understand..."

"Interrupting my guard walk to ask me where something is when you damn well know where it is," The draconid grumbled darkly.

"I'm kinda lost, on more than one front here. I don't know the city very well-"

"It’s behind you, you stupid sack of shit!" The guard roared pointing behind Jared. Jared flinched as the guard walked off muttering about sarcastic humans. Jared meanwhile meekly turned to see the sign that was blatantly marked in the draconic language. While he could have pleaded ignorance, the fact it had a piece of parchment, with writing on it, that had sprouted wings, would have told him that it was indeed a courier. A few of the people walked by him mumbling, and he was certain a few phrases much like what the guard had told him had been said.

Moving meekly into the courier he shuddered having barely kept his emotions in check. And feeling the overwhelming urge to change his pants, he entered the building, trying to figure out how to phrase his letter, despite the rather dominant memory in his mind.

[Logan]

Numb.

The psion awoke the next morning with a splitting headache and the surreal feeling he was being watched. His eyes opened and sure enough there before him stood a couple of young kids. One of them had a stick and was poking him in the side. Sadly, in his state Logan couldn’t feel any of it, but he knew he didn’t like it. He swung his arm helplessly and loosely, his face muscles clenching as he was lucky enough to even make it move. The psion was fully numb from head to toe, with the exception of the splitting headache. Lucky for the hung-over psion one of his friends was passing by and came over to examine the man who resembled more of a hermit than a veteran and friend.

Completely numb.

The man helped Logan up and began to walk him to his place of residence in the slums of Radasanth. The psion struggled, each step a battle in and of itself just to move. The man shook his head in disbelief, “I heard it had gotten bad, but dear lord Logan, this bad?” The two slid, tripped, and stumbled their way to the small shack along the dirt alleyway that his friend owned. As they entered the man allowed the psion to slump into one of three chairs at a small wooden table near a iron stove and fireplace.

“Why’d you bring this filth here, Leonard,” a woman questioned Logan’s friend from the other side of the small residence.

Leonard knew Logan from his days in the Grand Army, and he just shrugged his shoulders in response. “I certainly can’t let him just live like that. He’s a friend --,” he paused momentarily before continuing, “an old friend. And you know how loyal I am.” The woman shook her head while her hand on her hip said all she needed to.

“Very well then, let’s at least get him sober,” the slightly burly woman said submitting to her husband’s well wishes for the man she had never met, but had heard many great tales of. She made her way about the small shack brewing a nice pot of coffee while cleaning and dusting various items. After a few minutes in silence the pot of coffee was finished and she poured Logan a sizable amount into a large porcelain mug. “Here, dear,” she said handing her husband the cup, “get this into him.”

Leonard nodded silently as he gently moved the cup to Logan’s mouth, pulling his chin down to open his mouth as he began to pour some of the black coffee in. The psion swallowed after a moment and his hands began to shake. “I think it’s taking effect, dear,” Leonard informed his wife. She just nodded her response knowingly.

Leonard continued to pour the rest in, and bit by bit the psion sobered up. After a good hour or two, he was fully sober and of his right mind. “Thank you, Leonard,” Logan began, “you’ve always been there for me. I don’t know what came over me!” Leonard shook his head and rested his hand on Logan’s, “Think nothing of it, friend. It was our pleasure.”

Leonard’s wife looked ready to say something but decided to hold back and went back to her dusting and cleaning instead, all the while humming a sweet little Irish-type diddy. The psion turned his head to Leonard, “I’m sorry you had to see my like that. I--.” He was interrupted by a strange knock at the wooden door. Leonard’s wife looked at the two men, threw her hands in the air mumbling something incoherent and went to answer the door. “I haven’t been that way in a long time, Leonard,” Logan finished his previous statement.

Leonard nodded knowingly, “it happens, bud, but you have to learn to control yourself, and…your past a little better.” The psion sighed as Leonard’s wife interrupted apologetically, “Sorry to interrupt, boys, but Leonard, James is here to see you.” Logan turned to the doorway spotting the small, fragile man standing there eagerly waiting to talk to his friend. Leonard stood, but the small man motioned for him to stop and to sit back down, “There’s no need to get up, Leo. This will only take a minute.” Leonard motioned for James to pull up the other chair and join them.

The small man grabbed the other chair and sat down quickly as he removed his hat and held it in front of him. “Leo, it seems our boys have drummed up some information on the man you wanted us to find,” James spoke quickly and quietly. Leonard’s eyes grew wide and Logan immediately knew something was up. “Jared was spotted in Talmhaidh. If we’re going to go after him, we need to do it now,” James’ eyes peered into Leonard’s deeply awaiting his response.

Leonard took a moment to think it over and then muttered, “shit.” He closed his eyes, his hands running over his bald head. The psion was intrigued by Leonard’s response, “Who is Jared?”

“Why the son of Seth Dahlios, of course,” James responded before Leonard could stop him. Logan’s eyes welled up. Seth had a son, a fucking son, and the bastard hadn’t even had the nerve to at least let him know. Leonard sighed deeply, “James, you’d best be going.” The confused look on the fragile man’s face said it all as he stood slowly and replaced his hat upon his head taking to the exit like a bat out of hell.

Totally fucking numb.

Silence suddenly filled the room as no one spoke. Leonard watched the psion slump in his chair, the emotion clearly overpowering him. “Don’t go there, Logan. Don’t,” his friend said. The psion rose from his chair and left without another word. As he exited out the door, Leonard’s wife muttered, “The son of a bitch just left without a goodbye or a thank you? What a bastard!” Leonard just shook his head. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, or if Logan would even be ok, but he knew he had to send men to find out.

[Lavinian Ambition]

Jared fished a few gold out of his pocket as he sighed and sent the letter on its way to his parents. He was sure they'd appreciate the word form their son abroad. After all it had been months since he had visited their shack. It had horrified to see his family in such destitute position, but there was nothing he could do about it. He doubted his parents would agree to join the guild, and Serenity was too young to make that decision for herself. In another year or so, she'd be alright; she'd be able to handle it. It was just the act of holding out for her in the interim.

Moving from the courier he sighed as he looked up. The ferry back to the retreat wasn't due out for another couple of days. With this in mind, he had taken extended leave form the retreat for a few days, and he was sure that Kyo might have been angry at him. However, as she put it, there was no official relationship between them, and he didn't technically owe anything to the girl in terms of his whereabouts. As he walked down the street however, that didn't stop the heavy feeling on his heart. He probably should have left a note explaining his situation at the least. He sighed as he walked down the streets he looked about for a nice looking tavern. He didn't feel like staying in a dump before heading back to the fortress.

The sun began the conclusion to its western sojourn. His thoughts were a muddle of various feelings, from guilt laced ones, to much more bright ones. He was mainly guilty he hadn't told anyone, he had just gone on a whim. He was more than certain he was in trouble when he got back. He could have at least told someone like Kell or Papa Dagon. Not that he had much care for the two. Kell seemed to have the same eyes for Kyo that he did, and was competition in a race for her heart. Dagon and Jared had their differences. He considered the shaman to be an antagonistic jerk, and the Shaman in turn regarded him as a pompous prude.

Finally as he shuffled about the streets he found a tavern and entered it. His eyes scattered about as he saw a scene that had much in similar to the standard tavern scene, and much to diversify his view of taverns. First and foremost, were the tables of varying sizes. Some of the tables were obviously for the Fae, a few for the humans, and more for the Draconids, they were scattered about the area in order to try and mix the varying races. The best reasoning Jared could make for the jumble being the integration of the species. It was obvious he would have to be on his best behavior. He didn't want a night in some stuffy prison as he had mouthed off to the wrong person.

The room however, was almost a zoo; various scents came across to him as he smelled food both alluring and repulsive. Various appetites to be sated made for differing cuisine. He was more than certain a few of the dishes were poisonous to him, and he would have to be careful when ordering a meal. The bartender was different then most, not human not Fae, nor even Draconid. This person seemed to be a spider-like tender, who moved about the bar on two legs, while his remaining six arms were a flurry of motion mixing drinks, and pouring ales. It sent a slight shiver down Jared's spine, to see such an obviously alien creature serving food and drinks.

Jared sat at a human sized table that was empty, before a rather attractive looking woman showed up. Her hair was a bright blue, and he wasn't sure if she was Fae or if she was merely dying her hair to pass as one. Her clothing was nondescript, merely a dress that showed off nothing of her figure, while holding the apron in front of it in a valiant defense against the grease and dirt of the tavern. She spoke tiredly, a fake smile plastered on her face, "What'll it be?"

"What do you recommend for humans?" He asked politely.

"Something edible," She replied obviously tired of the question. He had the sinking suspicion she was a Fae, and much like the Draconid Guard from earlier was tired of human arrogance.

It lit a fire in his chest as something in him wanted to reach out and throttle the poor Fae. He bit down on the anger as he said softly, "I'll take whatever most humans order. And a local ale..."

"You sure you can handle it? You look a bit young there kiddo," She replied. He again bit down on the anger, as the frustration of being treated like a kid began to wear on him.

His eyes deadened slightly as he spoke his tone a bit stiffer than he had ever managed, "I'll mange."

The Fae nodded as she turned and walked off a spring in her step as Jared fought the empty emotions that threatened to overtake him. He never knew where they came from, but he certainly was not a fan of them, nor the impulses that came with them. Leaning forward on the table he poured his face into his hands as he muttered, "I really should have brought Kyo, I'm sure she'd have enjoyed the free vacation..."

[Logan]

Present.

The psion slipped quietly off the wooden ship. Having kept mostly to himself throughout the ride had allowed him the opportunity to delve into the minds of the various people onboard for more information on Jared and his whereabouts. It had been a long time since Logan had been so focused and determined to find someone. The last time was Seth.

Logan moved down the street avoiding the likes of the draconian guards and commoners. He despised the draconians, but was doing his best to not let it show. One false word or move and he would end up in prison or worse. He felt a tinge of something in his head. A sensation of the most familiar feeling in the world crept over his entire body. The psion shook his head.

Come out, come out, wherever you are, Jared, he thought to himself realizing full well what the sensation was. The mental scent of Seth was nearby, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly where. Of course, his focus yielded another problem as he fell into a draconian guard he hadn’t noticed before.

“You little shithead. What the hell do you think you are doing?! Just like that other little shithead with the scars,” the guard growled at Logan as he raised his weapon above his head preparing for a strike. The psion closed his eyes and focused hard. A moment passed and the draconian lowered his weapon and his growl reduced to a sound similar to a purr of a cat. Logan’s eyes bolted opened and patted the head of the guard. ”Thanks for the information, asshole,” he mentally spoke into the guard’s currently empty mind.

The psion turned and walked over to the tavern across the street, pushing the door open quickly and quietly. He slipped in quietly as his eyes darted around the room, finally settling upon the man with the scars. A smile crossed the lips of the psionic badass as he fixated his focus directly on him.

”So how’s your father, Jared,” the psion telepathically arrogantly and defiantly questioned.

[Lavinian Ambition]

Jared had been nursing his drink as he waited for the meal to arrive, not wanting to drink too much. He didn't trust himself to get drunk anywhere except the retreat here, and even if he was Bandit Brotherhood, that didn't mean he was immune to the rather strict code he was forced to. The end result was an ale, which was almost as bitter as his homeland brew, and waiting for a meal that more than a couple of cooks had probably spit in. As he rested he heard a voice, a voice that he didn't know, but something inside him did, all too well...

”So how’s your father, Jared.”

Pain swelled up in his mind as he tried to fight against the rising tide. The thing that had overtaken him when he had seen the medic Mariah once again sought to overpower him as he clutched his head tightly. He was more than certain he was causing a commotion but he couldn't afford not to, not when the pain was so overwhelming. He fought against it, a loosing battle against the tide of pressure that built up, before he groaned softly and went limp.

"You've changed Seth..." The same voice that had taunted him echoed through his mind. He saw no placed, no locales. He saw nothing to identify the man.

"Yes, I stopped being weak, this is what I am now. You're just another weak person to me Logan McCloud," The voice was cold. He was more than certain this was Seth Dahlios' voice, during the vaunted year of carnage. He shivered at the Salvar cold tone of it.

"No buddy, you giving in to this is weakness..." Logan had countered back. All he heard was Seth's laughter before the presence released its grip on Jared.

Jared became aware of his surrounding as he groaned softly. He could feel eyes upon him as he sat up. He felt something slick on his face and felt under his nose, to see blood there. Reaching into his pack he pulled out a small cloth, strips left over from the shirt that had become makeshift bandages for him and Kyo way back when and cleaned his face. Once that was done he ventured a look up at his waitress, "Sorry..."

"Just keep it to yourself human, and don't get any on the tables, or you'll have the bouncer on you. Got it?" She said roughly.

Jared meanwhile was looking about for the source of the voice. He was sure he had heard it clear as day not too long ago. And while he had been overwhelmed by Seth's memory, he didn't want to be caught off guard by this Logan McCloud, but somehow he saw that happening no matter what. Sighing he muttered to himself, "Just come out you bastard, don't tease me like this..."

[Logan]

Logan’s gaze fixated heavily on Jared as he began to feel Seth more and more. His heart pounded within his chest, feeling like it was going to burst out at any second. The more he focused, the more intense things felt and then, he was ripped back into that moment. That single, defining, and utterly fucked up moment.

Seth’s words burned into his mind once more. The cold and hollow voice of a man whose soul had long since left spoke once more. The psion’s hands shook as he clenched his fists into tight balls. He felt the pain, the past, the present, all at once. The words no longer just words, but vivid images of lives torn apart by something uncontrollable silently echoed in his mind. The pain shot from his heart and chest to his forehead. A throbbing sensation enflamed the region near his temples as he tried to remain calm.

Anger welled up inside. Not at Seth for giving up or for letting go, but for giving in. His friend had allowed himself to give in almost completely to the control of Hex Magic. As quickly as it began, he unclenched his fists and the throbbing ceased. His breathing returned to normal and his vision came back to the bar scene. He exhaled deeply followed by an even deeper still inhaling. He had almost lost it.

Logan watched on as Jared wiped himself clean, removing the blood that had formed under his nose. The psion approached quietly, but purposefully. He sat down directly across from Jared, his eyes fixated at the pupils directly across from him. ”Jared, I am Logan McCloud. An old friend of your father,” he spoke telepathically as to not raise the suspicions of the bar patrons around them. ”I’d like to speak with you in private if at all possible,” the psion concluded his statement as he stood up from the table.

[Lavinian Ambition]

Finally he saw the man across from him. He sat down, he didn't move his lips, but he spoke volumes. He wasn't sure how the man was doing it, he had heard of mind talking, but he had never encountered it. He always figured it to be something that he'd just add to the growing list of myth's to check out in old age. The man however, had said something about his father, and from there he wasn't sure what he was talking about. He cocked an eyebrow as he spoke, "You knew my father?"

Now he wasn't sure who was putting on who. The waitress walked up as Jared sighed and said, "Get him a house brew please, my tab..." She nodded as she rushed off to fill the order, as her blue hair trailed behind her as a tail, sliding between Patrons as they shuffled about finding tables. He then sighed as he looked across at the Psion, "So when did you meet my father? I mean, you don't look like you've visited Reven, and I doubt you've been to Lavinya..."

He was utterly confused by this. What had Logan meant? Seth knew Logan McCloud that much was certain. Did the Psion know Seth and assume Jared had some connection to the thief? That drew a deeper frown as he tried to figure things out. Finally he looked up at Logan and said, "Out of curiosity, what did you think my last name was? Dahlios?"

He let the words linger in the air as the waitress dropped off a tankard of ale and left after Jared tossed her two gold. He then said, "Cause I'm a Cesarino through and through. Last I checked, his kid was Liliana Ambria's kid, and she's holed up in Berevar. Girl from what I heard, but its all rumors, none of us can see her, something about killing anyone who'd try."

[Logan]

Logan peered at Jared for a moment and the another. The words still just beginning to sink in. He'd been wrong, made a mistake even. Jared wasn't Seth's boy. He was someone else entirely, but that begged the question why the mental aroma of Seth had been so strong on him. The psion shook his head as the blue-haired one returned with a tall glass filled to the brim and handed it to him. "Thank you, miss," he spoke gently, but firmly. He turned back to look Jared in the eyes.

"My apologies then, Jared. I had a reliable source mention to me that you were Seth's son," telepathically the psion communicated all the while his focus dwindled ever so slightly. The more he looked Jared over, the less and less he saw Seth in his features. He was so damned certain he was connected closely with Seth, the feeling was too strong to ignore. But then, something else tugged at him.

Why had James fed him false information, and for that matter, why was James feeding Leonard false information? The more he questioned that short interaction back at Leonard's the more Logan began to feel uneasy about their current surroundings. Something hinted that they were being watched, perhaps even set up.

"I know you haven't much reason to trust me at the moment, but Jared, I'm of the opinion after talking with you that we might be better served to move our little conversation else--," Logan was interrupted before he could finish the last word mentally by a piercing pain in his forehead. The psion's hands rose to his forehead pressing his fingers firmly into his temples to try and relieve the pressure. Just then, three men walked into the bar.

[Lavinian Ambition]

Jared frowned as he saw the telepath rub his temples. Was the conversation really so taxing that he was getting a headache? Why not just talk candidly then? He was so confused as he looked upon Logan. So many questions and the answers only raised more questions. Logan had assumed he was Seth's child? Why the hell was everyone so obsessed with the dead thief? He was an ass, which was evident by the trail of broken hearts and corpses in his wake.

It was said it was easier to just never deal with the Demon than try to understand him. It was sage advice to Jared who only wanted to look at the fact the guy was a killer through and through. He represented what could go wrong with being a Lavinian thief. It was that final thought that drove home Jared's reasoning for disliking the long gone thief. He was determined to not be bogged down in Seth's shadow. Except every time he tried, something related to Seth was thrown at him.

First was his initial encounter with Darith. The conversation hadn’t made sense, but in hindsight, it truly was an example of his plight. Add upon this the countless times he got "Seth Knowledge" and he was more than certain he was pockmarked by fate to try and follow in the departed thief's footsteps. Strides he was not willing to take, and furthermore resented being measured against. It was part of the reason he tried to keep his temper under control, why he dislike killing so much, and further, why he disliked being harassed by those related to the thief.

Kid was another one of those brilliant moves. He was more than certain the girl was supposed to be Darith's means of keeping an eye on Jared, if by sheer luck alone. This was why he had jumped at Kyo’s offer to join the Bandit Brotherhood, well, one of the reasons. He had joined initially for his desire to be around Kyo as much as possible, call it a puppy dog crush. She was, after all, the only other woman he had been with intimately, and Kid was by far the lesser of the two, he merely didn't want to give up the Akishiman.

However his attention was soon focused on the men before him as they looked upon the pained Psion and the rather inattentive thief. He was more than certain Darith would have had his ass had he seen how Jared had stupidly turned introspective when three men were obviously approaching his direction. As he looked up at the men his heart sank as he remembered one of them, and idly pulled the sleeve of his shirt down to hide the rather pink scar on his forearm.

"Ahh, brat, good to see you kept my present to you, too bad I couldn't give you the rest," The man said as he pointed at the now covered arm.

"Do I, know you sir?" Jared replied dully.

The man smiled as he sat at the table next to Jared, his hand clamped down on the Lavinian's shoulder as he spoke, his voice brimming with anger, "Oh yes, you don't know me...my blade on the other hand, knows you very well..." He then pulled the sleeve up Jared's arm to reveal the ugly scar as he looked at the Lavinian, "You killed my boss, and now I'm going to make you pay for it you little rat. But, I figure just killing you isn't enough, I want to make sure it not only sticks, but makes a lesson to anyone who crosses me."

"Sounds like a personal problem to me," Jared slipped, as he struggled to stop his mouth from running.

The man smiled as the hand crossed to the other shoulder of Jared before he breathed, his breath reeking of death, "Oh you little, confused boy. It is your problem now..." He then looked at the other two, "Help the man out of here, he'll come with us while we determine what he's doing. ‘Sides, I want no witnesses that could tag us. Once we get to the ship, we'll send the letter to that Akishiman whore and get ready for the retribution."

"Why should I go with you?" Jared replied firmly.

He felt a sharp pain in his side before he looked down to see a pin jabbing into his side. The man then smiled as he said smugly, "Because, you've had too much to drink buddy..."

Jared found he couldn't argue that fact as he lulled and passed out from the poison.

[Logan]

Pain.


The psion’s hands slid over the top of his head as his fingers gripped intensely into his scalp. Thousands of thoughts and voices erupted within his mind all at once, sending the psion into a state of uncontrollable helplessness. The feeling of one’s skull being ripped apart by the expanding of grey matter within was enough to make anyone writhe as Logan was. He soon had fainted from the pain and as Jared was dragged out, so too was Logan.


==================


Exhausted Logan slowly opened his eyes as the dim candle light forced his eyes to adjust uncomfortably. The psion hated the dark; it always felt like a prison to him. It was complete and always around the next corner if you weren’t careful. As his eyes adjusted the blurry form of a man came into view. He ran his fingers around his eyes for a second to try and clear the image. It was Jared.

Shit, the psion exclaimed internally. What the hell was going on? It didn’t make sense. Leonard had no reason to cross him, or at least, he couldn’t remember one, and he didn’t know James prior to their meeting. Logan flexed his fingers ensuring full movement was capable. It was then that he realized he was shackled and chained to the wall. An uneasy feeling overcame him as a voice called out quietly in the darkness just beyond the dim light of the candles.

“We don’t desire to hurt you—,” the voice called out before being interrupted by the psion’s thoughts. ”Bullshit. You’d just as soon kill me off,” he telepathically shouted at the darkness before him. A shadowed figure stepped into the light, “No. You have it all wrong. We just need to find out some information from you.” The psion blinked his eyes trying to squeeze every ounce of light to make out the figure, but to no avail. ”If you only needed information why the tactic? Why the pain? Why him too,” Logan countered almost expertly.

The shadowed figure took another step forward before turning toward Jared. The figure reached down and slid his hand beneath Jared’s limp head pulling it up to look at him. “To answer your last question, this little bastard is wanted for the murder of Lord Roland of Radasanth,” the shadowed figure stated as he released the thief’s head. The thief’s limp head fell back down in front of him and the shadowed figure chuckled.

”You didn’t answer my other two questions,” the psion telepathically stated matter-of-factly. The shadowed figure turned toward Logan and stepped forward more into the light. The psion could almost make out the face and the clothing of the man before him, but still not enough to discern if the man had any weapons or armor. He had a gut feeling he didn’t, but there was no way to know for sure, and the risk wasn’t worth the potential reward. After all, they had left him alive for some reason, and he aimed to find out what.

[Lavinian Ambition]

It was a hangover without the fun of getting drunk in the first place. It tore through his head as he vaguely felt his head being lifted up, before being released to drop back down. He groaned again, trying to fight through the fog of pain as he heard a conversation, it sounded too distant, yet it hurt his head so much as it bounced about the area. His head rolled until it was tilted back, and he groaned again as his eyes opened. Blinding light hit the irises before he shut them tightly, painfully.

"Speak of the bastard..." The familiar voice of the guard said as he sighed softly and groaned, "Wake up. I have a present for you Jared Cesarino of Lavinya."

Busted...

Even the thought hurt as he opened his eyes again. He was looking into the eyes of someone, who looked very, very angry. However his head pounded as he tried to fight the fog of inebriation. He hadn't drank that much, why was he like this? As he groaned again he felt his head slammed into the wall behind him causing him to cry out in pain as he tried to bring his hands up to his head, only to find the chains were too short for such an act, "I said wake up."

Jared softly spoke, his throat parched, "Go to hell..."

A boot kicked him in the gut winding him as he coughed, and nearly threw up his dinner. Hunched forward he felt his hair roughly grabbed before his head was slammed against the wall behind him. He nearly blacked out from the pain before he felt a hard slap against his face, "Oh no, no blacking out, I want you awake you bastard. Until your lady friend comes, you're stuck here. Better hope the whore has some feelings for you, cause I'll kill you if she doesn't come in a week."

It felt like cotton had been placed in Jared's mouth, it was so dry, and he wasn't sure if it was the poison or the alcohol, or both. He looked up at the man as he saw him grinning at the obvious discomfort Jared was in. When he spoke he said, "If I have to put up with your face for another week, I better bite my tongue and be done with it..."

"Defiant to the last, admire that, really I do..." The guard said before he said lowly, "Too bad you're such an ass Jared, too bad...I had some water here and everything, you wanted a drink right?"

Jared knew what was going on and wanted nothing to do with it. This was a variation on the friend torture, act like a buddy only to spring something on them later and shatter their hopes or will. In this case Jared knew he wasn't the guy's friend. So he gathered what little spit he could and spat on the man's shoe, showing just what he thought of the situation. The Man chuckled before he said, "I'm going to enjoy killing you little boy. I will gut you, and let you bleed out slowly, just so I can see the pain on your face before you die, and realize just how badly you fucked it up!"

[Logan]

Logan could do nothing but look on as the man began his barrage of psychological attacks on Jared. The psion was highly surprised at the rough tactics used, even for a murderer. What he remembered of the forces who sided with justice was that of high honor and a distinct value of life. Every life. It was something that had stuck with him since his last run in with the law. It was then that he took notice of the distinct differences in the length of the two captives chains.

The psion had been secured with shackles much heavier than Jared’s, but the heavier shackles actually afforded him much longer chains. He was allowed much more free movement of his extremities, a point really driven home when Jared tried to move his hands closer to himself. Poor Jared, the psion thought to himself in retrospect of all that had just taken place.

He really needed to find out what purpose the captors had with him before he could work up any sort of an escape plan, and he needed to do that quickly based on the methods used against the thief. He wouldn’t last much longer otherwise. The psion reached his hands down to his sides, feeling for his swords. ”Damn and more damn,” he cursed his misfortune. Their captors had taken the liberty of removing his weapons, but he couldn’t tell if they had done the same to Jared.

As the guard finished his barrage on Jared, he turned his attention back to the psion. “I believe, you sir, are the one in chains. So I will do the question asking from now on. Got it,” the last words coming forth questioningly as Logan felt a solid slap connect with his right cheek and reverberate all the way over to his left. There wasn’t much pain associated with it, but there was a demeaning feeling behind it.

“First and foremost, we want to know how much you know about the plot to murder Lord Roland, may he rest in peace,” the guard interrogated the psion rather gently. The psion looked up at the guard and smiled, ”I know that he was murdered, and apparently the blame for such falls squarely on the shoulders of the guy over there,” The guard nodded, his hand sliding down to rub his chin. “We also have reason to believe you are connected in a conspiracy coalition that has begun to spread it’s bleak and evil across the fair land of Radasanth and Corone. Can you deny this,” the interrogation wasn’t doing any good against the master of mental manipulation.

Logan’s shoulders shrugged a response. ”I’m sorry, but I haven’t a clue what you are talking about. Conspiracy ain’t my game, bud. I am just an even-keel kinda guy. No falling for that old crap about the government’s out to get me shit. I believe you justice fellas have a purpose and serve a purpose,” the psion was laying it on thick and to ensure it came across as genuine he only spoke the last words to himself, To cause pain and strife on all those in need! The guard nodded his approval.

“Very well then. You clearly don’t want to cooperate, so we’ll have to do it the hard way,” the guard was clearly not pleased with the responses he received from the psion. He reached out his hand and slapped Logan’s face once more, this time from the other side, “Just know, mentalist, that I will always be stronger and better than you!” The final words coming as the guard spit onto Logan’s face before turning around and disappearing once more into the darkness before the two captives.

The psion turned to Jared and asked, ”You okay, Jared?”

[Lavinian Ambition]

Jared winced as the psion's voice infiltrated his mind before he hoarsely whispered, "Not so loud..." His head ringing from the abrupt and brutal treatment he was undergoing. The thief's guild had warned him about a couple of basic torture methods, usually used on thieves caught during a raid. While the Guard Post and the Thief's Guild were on somewhat amicable terms, it didn't mean that a few of the guards didn't push boundaries, especially where their paycheck was concerned.

As he tried to recover he grunted softly as he felt his wind return after another round of racking coughs, "Felt better, felt much better McCloud..." His eyes drifted to the Psion who was relatively untouched compared to him. Then again Logan really had nothing to do with the attack on Lord Roland's manor, so it made sense in the interim. As he sat there he coughed again, much lighter and less deathly sounding.

His eyes closed as he wondered just how badly he had stepped in it. His mind was reeling with how badly he had been screwed over. He should have paid more attention, in Lavinya he'd be dead and Darith wouldn't rescue him. Thieves like him got no second chances. Hell if Kyo didn't come for him, it wouldn't have surprised him in the least, it would have been his just desserts for such an act. The Thieves of Lavinya were world class not because they didn't fail. They were world class because they couldn't fail. Failure meant they had died.

Finishing with sorting out his thoughts he turned to see, hanging across the room from him, his satchel. Ironically with the very thing he'd need to get out of here, the masterwork lock picks he had been playing around with. While he had recently learned the basics of Lock picking, he had yet to get beyond a novice. The fact he could was something that made him proud, however he needed to work a lot more before he could do it in a fashionable time. As his mind wandered a bit he finally reeled it in when a thought occurred to him.

"McCloud, can you lift things telepathically?"

[Logan]

The psion raised his hands to his face and wiped the spit from his cheek. He’s going to pay for that, he told himself. Fixating his eyes on Jared in the midst of death’s firm grip, he sighed. How had they gotten into this mess in the first place? The psion was usually way too careful to get wrapped in messes like this, but then again, the psion was a very different man then he was even a few days before. Something had changed inside the telepath. Something indeed.

After a few moments, the psion chuckled his response back at Jared, “No. I can say that I definitely cannot move things with my mind, though, that does give me an idea.”

Logan fingers flexed and then balled into fists. Focusing on his breathing he pulled it under control as he began to pull his fists together. He clamped his fists together and tugged and pulled with all his might, the muscles in his arms bulging with each yank on the chains. His arms began to shake and his eyes ripped open as he screamed out his aggression. The sound of the metal bending was sure to echo through the room, yet the psion was no closer to being free than before.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he turned to Jared once more, fully out of breath and unable to speak. Frustration was filling his thoughts and also causing him to lose focus slightly. ”So, Jared, since it appears we might be here a while, I’m curious to know about your past, and most importantly what connection you have with the Lavinian thief, Seth Dahlios, and for that matter, why the hell you killed Roland,” the psion was interested in getting answers to figure things out more clearly. As he prepared to continue his questions, he stopped. Something nipped at his mind, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

The psion closed his eyes once more focusing intently on the area around them. Something was happening, but he couldn't make out what. He did feel the presence of the five guards, all male, and someone else. Someone ... female. And she had the feeling of wrath within her.

Turning to Jared the psion spoke vocally once more, “Jared, someone is here for you.”

[Lavinian Ambition]

"Heh, if I knew why that man is connected to me, be assured I'd sever the link as fast as possible. No offense to your friend, but not many thieves felt they could trust themselves around him. Plus, it's more than awkward to see his memories," He replied bitterly, "As far as I can tell I find out things only he knew, and I sometimes dream about the guy."

That was an understatement. The dreams were so vivid and real, it was almost as if he was living those moments. Some were pleasant, a mysterious meeting with a brown haired woman who he could only assume was Liliana Ambria from the description, to downright frightening, seeing the murder of an old man and woman was not his idea of good dreams. Still he resented the fact he was experiencing someone else's thoughts, and while Logan had no inkling of how pissed off it made him, he let it slide, if only for necessity.

"As for Roland, well, let’s just say that was a rather bad week for me. He hired me to steal something, and someone else as well. We didn't appreciate the treatment, she roughed him up some, poisoned him, I broke his nose, and we washed our hands of him," He stopped as he closed his eyes, remembering that hellish week, "He obviously didn't feel the same and tried to kill the both of us. I put my faith in my partner, and in the end we killed Roland to drop the heat on us. That was awhile ago, though as you can see, the heat is still on..."

He slumped softly as he let the words pour out of his mouth. He figured he was as good as dead, and dead men had no secrets as the old saying went. Sitting still for a bit he shifted slightly before Logan spoke of someone coming for him. He snorted before he spoke softly, "Great, just what I need, another blast from the past. Oh well, with how shitty today's been, what’s another eh? If I'm going out, might as well get it out of the way early..."

He only relaxed back against the wall as he sighed and closed his eyes, trying to rest, despite the cottony taste in his mouth. The wood behind him was warmed from his own heat, but hardly made for a good bed. He could see the lantern illuminating the area as he sighed, knowing he was probably waiting for someone who had even bigger beef than the guard who had roughed him up. Looking at the satchel he merely shook his head as he muttered, "This would be so much more bearable if salvation wasn't hanging six feet in front of me."

[Kyo]

Fate was a tricky thing. Not everyone really believed in it and those that did liked to throw the word around until it lost all meaning. They said that all the small things in this world happened for a reason. That every defining moment of your life was meant to happen and those that crossed your path were placed there to meet the demands of their lines of fate as well as yours. They preached it; their mouths dripping it into your ears like honey and smoothing you over to the idea until it saturated their mind and you were trapped within the same line of thinking.

Fate was inescapable.

Fate was a load of crap.

It was a small room in a small shop on an unimportant street. Nondescript and quiet and mostly deserted. There was no one around should anything go wrong and no one around should everything go right. The perfect circumstances, just the way she liked it.

Despite the fact that there were no windows, the room was bright and alive with the light of several candles. They hung from the walls, protected by little glass cases which allowed their light to reflect off the surface and cascade along the light wood. There wasn’t much in the room either, a table, round and of poor construction—it wobbled every time she rested her arms upon it—and a few chairs. Four chairs to be exact and every single one of them were occupied. By three men who were in a varying degrees of emotional breakdown, sitting in their various postures, each one telling a different story about what was going on in their head.

The oldest sat directly across from her, his hair greying and receding from his forehead. His wrinkled face and deep brown eyes told of experience and strength of will and the inability to bend when circumstances proved beyond his control. He was being the most stubborn out of all of them. Having survived and lived through much in his life, her and her little band of merry men were not scaring him at all. Which was fine, for now. The other two men were of the same age, though completely different. The one was terrified, his large green eyes looking at her as if she possessed the coming of the next plague and he did not wish to be infected. She could feel the vibrations from his twitching leg through the wooden floorboards and his hands were anxiously playing with the wooden splinters of the table. Finally, the third just looked defeated. She had him in the bag, she knew it. The way he bowed his head and his blonde hair fell in front of his face and his eyes like that. He was hers for the taking.

“Gentlemen...” She began slowly, her voice, cool and calming in the silence that filled the room. Silence that was broken only by the breathing of each of them. “I did not think things were as complicated as they appear to be. You pay, you live. You pay and you get to keep your shop and your wares. If you don’t want to pay, get out of Dheathain.” The fact that the words were spoken in such a way made them sound all the more deadly. There was no reason for her to shout and scream at them. Showing a civil face was far more frightening as it made them wonder just what lay underneath that face of civility.

“You’ve got three days to change your minds.”

Pushing back her chair and filling the room with the grinding and ear popping sound of wood on wood, Kyo rose to her feet. Sliding her hands along her black gi to straighten it, she reached down and picked up her rucksack. With a polite incline of her head—though not a full bow—the leader of The Bandit Brotherhood turned and left the room. Immediately she found her senses assaulted by smoke, stale ale and sweat. She never did like the smell of a tavern, no matter what region it happened to reside in. Good thing this early in the evening the tavern was mostly empty and almost no one paid her any attention. Almost.

Halfway to the door a young Draconian boy barely reaching puberty came running over to her. The contrast between his still childish features and the black scales that appeared around the side of his face and hairline was odd in her mind, but she didn’t mind it. And despite the fact that he was younger than she was, the boy was already her height and could have quite easily been stronger, though she was not willing to test the theory out.

Placing a clawed hand on her shoulder, the boy leaned in close to her and whispered words no one else but she should hear. She tried to keep a steady face and tried to keep her emotions in check, but she felt her eyes widen for a brief second and her entire body tensed after wards.

Jared Cesarino has been taken.

Narrowing her ice blue eyes, Kyo nodded her head to the boy and left the tavern without another word.

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

The inside of the ship was barely guarded. Surely, there should have been more of them sneaking around, patrolling the corridors, even above deck. She was worried; it had been far too easy to sneak aboard the vessel considering it was the light of day. But so far she had only been forced to kill one of the guards, someone who’d gotten just a little too curious when one of the floorboards had creaked a little too loudly. So she’d strangled him and shoved his body into a darkened corner filled with crates and covered it with a cloth. Hopefully, she would have Jared free before the others found him. That was of course, if she didn’t kill Jared herself.

Idiot.

She could not believe he would fall for such a ruse. She was going to beat his head against the stone wall of the courtyard after she dragged his ass back to Aiseirigh.

Slipping into the deepest part of the ship, Kyo paused and leaned her back against the wall. It was dark down here, the hallways light with the occasional lamp hanging precariously from the wooden walls and threatened to break on the ground and spread fire everywhere. They barely chased away the shadows, instead allowing them to pool in places where the meagre light couldn’t seem to reach. The corridor she currently stood in had only two doors in it, one of them most likely led to the cargo room where she knew Jared was being held—thanks to the loose lips of one guard—and the other, she had no idea. But as she stood there, the sound of voices—no, a single voice—was barely audible. She couldn’t understand what was being said though. The sound muffled and barely above a whisper from where she was standing.

Taking a deep breath, Kyosku drew upon the shadows all around her. She focused her energy and pulled them towards her body, blending in with the darkness and making her become one with it. Then she began moving with silent and well placed steps. When she reached the entrance to the door, she carefully grabbed the handle and turned it. Immediately the voice that flooded out into the hallway hit her ears with a relief the likes of which she could not remember feeling.

Lucky bastard.

Keeping the shadows around her, the ninja slipped into the room. It was mostly bare and empty and left in darkness save for the light of one lamp. It sat upon the top of a crate and provided only enough light so she would not trip upon the wooden boxes and whatever merchandise lay within them. Jared was chained to the far wall and slumped against the ground, nursing a few new bruises most likely. There was also another man beside him, silver haired, not bad looking but she didn’t recognize him at all.

As the last words left Jared’s mouth, Kyo noticed the rucksack hanging from the wall and couldn’t help but smirk knowing it was torturing the thief to have to look at that thing. Releasing her pull on the shadows, Kyosku stepped out before the two men with a less than amused look on her face.

“Funny, and here I thought your salvation was a beautiful albeit fucking pissed off ninja. I guess I was mistaken. I suppose I can just turn around and leave then.”

[Skie and Avery]

Quest Judging
Before I Forget...

STORY

Continuity ~ 4/10. So many questions, so few answers. I really don't understand what any of this has to do with anything, though there are threads hanging off the sides trying to connect this story with a bunch of other ones. Imagine me coming into this thread without having known anything about Seth Dahlios, what it means to be a Cesarino, what went wrong in Corone or countless other little things that were hinted at with absolutely no explanation. Put yourself in those shoes? Confused? Because I sure am.
Setting ~ 6/10.
Pacing ~ 7/10.

CHARACTER

Dialogue ~ 6/10.
Action ~ 7/10. It was awful easy for Logan to find someone he had never met in a big city. Mental trail or not. In fact, during that whole little scene, I found myself frowning and going, "Are you serious?"
Persona ~ 7/10.

WRITING STYLE

Technique ~ 6/10. Logan, you get repetitive at times. I believe you used the world "ages" three times in your intro post. There are more ways to say that a lot of time has passed. Seriously, I wouldn't lie to you on that.
Mechanics ~ 7/10. Small mistakes in spelling, word use and comma use. Nothing big, though one of the more amusing mistakes was the dialogue of "I'll mange" instead of "I'll manage." Gee, Jared, you'll sit there and allow parasites to ravage your skin?
Clarity ~ 5/10. For the most part, the sentences in the story made sense. Nouns, verbs, fluff, yeah it all comes together in ideas. Most of the time, those ideas even made sense. But there were sometimes paragraphs full of sentences and ideas that made me read them over and over again, and I still had to go on in the story not understanding what it was that you were trying to say. Between those moments, and the problems you had with continuity, a thread that could have been exciting and tense just came across as poorly done.

MISCELLANEOUS

Wild Card ~ 6/10.

TOTAL ~ 61/100.

Lavinian Ambition gains 1125 EXP and 220 GP
Logan gains 1321 EXP and 195 GP
Kyo gains 426 EXP and 24 GP

[Witchblade]

EXP and GP added!

Jared reaches level 2!

Yay, time to improve on that foreplay skill, Pat. ^_~