Our Friend.

[Lisean]

(Closed. Solo.)

The nightmares…

”Gentlemen; We, The Lemot Brotherhood, have gathered here to write another chapter into history. Faust, The First, could not have foreseen what we will accomplish tonight. For ages our studies brought very little to the world. Are we satisfied? Far from it. However, our brethren, our ancestors.. were no fools. Countless years we have wasted, writing and discovering the secrets of the sacred power found in death, will finally come to an end. Our brothers were most gracious to have passed their findings unto us. Now, the time has come for our clan to rise. The gift of immortality is before us! From hence forth, we shall no longer act like the vampire, but rather become something much worse. A force that cannot die, and need not drink the blood of our own kind to survive. My son shall be the gateway; My gateway, to eternal life. He is the door to a new generation, promising limitless power to our family, and only our family. Join me, fair brothers and sisters! Tonight, we share an ascension that will shake the heavens!”

The necromancer awoke to the sounds of screams,
And tried to tell himself to shut his mouth before somebody heard.

Snapping a hand over his lips, Lisean fell quiet in an instant, and took a deep breath. After all had become still, save for the crickets chirping amongst the dead of night, he pushed a palm up over his forehead, wiping beads of sweat back into his hair as he combed it behind his ear. His mind was still replaying what he saw before he woke up. The serrated dagger in his father’s hand gave him a glimpse at himself, while behind the cloaked figures, banners were hung up on the walls. Each one carried an emblem, representing a clan. Some were crossed out with bloodstained diagonal crosses. It all made no sense.. but perhaps one day it will all become clear. Why the same recurring flashback? And why did those symbols stand out above everything? It was the closest Lisean ever was to death, and the only idea that sprung to mind was to be weary of what he was surrounded by. Much like he should’ve been worrying about now.

Sounds that depicted a dilemma alerted Lisean, and brought him to his feet once he had finally decided to put his past behind him. A man was breathing heavily, and cursing to himself. “Shit..” was just one of the many words of the cussing dictionary he could clearly hear. The way it was spoken could tell even a drunk that the man had perhaps a little too much. In other words, there was an injured being on the road just off from where the necromancer had camped out for the evening. Taking into account Lisean only had half of his required hours of rest, his body reacted a little slow at first when it came to investigating, but almost by the time he had reached the source of the pointless jabbering, he was wide awake.

What caused Lisean to stop in his tracks wasn’t exactly the state the man was in, but rather his structure. He was scarcely tall, laying straight on his back upon a small hill overlooking the forest path. Just off to the left of the wounded giant, lay another who appeared just as large, but not as hideous. The weapons that were on the body made the necromancer delighted to find that the.. thing.. was dead. The other that was only injured made him shudder. The long sleeved clothes the man was wearing were rather fitting, consisting of a simple pair of pants, and an elegant black shirt with gold trim. Worn on his belt were six axes, almost as if sported in a decorative manner. The polearms crossed over his back were even more intimidating, for the weapons almost matched the height of him. Nonetheless, Lisean wouldn’t just walk away from the guy, and put his own life in danger. Something told him if he walked away, he’d kill him on the spot. The necromancer approached the abnormal bodied figure, and offered a hand in assistance.

Upon seeing the hand, the man brought his eyes away from the wound, and onto the necromancer garbed in black. The only colour he could see from Lisean consisted of his slightly pale skin that shone in the moonlight, the dark purple hair that was somewhat unkept and hinted at his awakening, and the salmon pink eyes that stared down at him in an odd fashion. Probably just his guess that he didn’t see many of his type around. Sighing, the man pocket the now empty vial in his hands into his belt pouch, and grabbed Lisean’s hand. “Ah, thank ye,” the man spoke after just barely being lifted to his feet. Once he was up, the necromancer nodded his head for an response to his manners, and stepped back.

“Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna hurt ye,” the tall man answered, chuckling as he looked down upon Lisean with a rather hearty smile. “My token of gratitude to your help, though little as it may be, is a proper introduction. The name’s Clement, friend.”

The necromancer looked him over from boot to hair twice over, establishing curiosity in his eyes. Why would this man try to befriend him just by offering a little assistance? It wasn’t that big of a sentimental deal. Still, he frowned, knowing it was best to answer him. Those weapons still looked pretty nasty on his own limbs. “I’m Lisean..” he muttered, looking over at the large creature that was dead. He stepped forward, and crouched down, taking a good look at the thing as if it were some sort of specimen. “May I ask.. what happened here, Clement?”

“Uhh.. well,” the giant began, scratching the back of his head as he walked up behind Lisean, and looked over the body of the monster as well. “It’s kind of a long story, but to put it in short.. He thought he was big enough, but he fell as fast as a goblin.” Clement chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest and forcing a small “Hmph,” out of his sealed lips. “Damned trolls..”

“Trolls?” Lisean questioned, turning his eyes to look up momentarily at Clement. “You mean.. this thing is a troll?” he asked in reassurance, looking over the remains once again. As he dug through what the dead being carried while he was alive, Clement nodded his head, and let out a laugh. “O’ course that’s a troll! Haven’t ye ever seen one before?” the man asked, assuming that the necromancer was dumbfounded. However, his first thought of him slowly changed as he watched him pocket a few very small glass vials that were on the troll. Maybe he was smarter than he looked. Lisean just saw things, and took them if they were out of the ordinary. Along with the two containers filled with a dark green, tar-like substance, Lisean also managed to pocket a couple pieces of gold. A whole couple.

“Say.. ummm..” Clement tried to speak, hesitating a little at the thought that just popped into his mind. “You seem to know how to take care of yerself, Lisean. Would you like to accompany me for awhile on a task I have to finish before sunset tonight?” he asked, catching the necromancer’s attention. “Hmmm..” Lisean first responded, rising up to his feet to still stand at least a good foot underneath Clement. In the position the spellcaster was in, he had no need to take liberty of helping others, unless a price was given. He desired rewards, in the form of things needed to survive on his own. He preferred solitude, seeing as how he had grown used to it. “What’s in it for me? And what’s the catch?” were his only two questions.

“Well, I’m here on.. top secret business,” Clement whispered, making sure nobody was around before he lowered his voice. “I work for a gang that pays me well for these kinds of things. Perhaps if I put in a good word for you, they’ll be kind enough to spare you a few coins, as well. They are the types that will be grateful for any extra hands, and are always in need of a new pair. Specifically an uncommon pair..”

Lisean smirked. Top secret business? How was he supposed to believe such codswallop. Closing his eyes, the necromancer lowered his head slightly, and muttered “Bullshit,” proclaiming Clement’s words merely lies. “Either tell me with a little more detail in exactly what you want done, and what I will get if I do, or I’m leaving to act on my own accord.”

Clement looked over the dead troll he had taken out, and wounded him. He thought about the words that came out of Lisean’s mouth, and sighed. He knew he needed a little more help, and that the task he accepted was a little more difficult than what he had imagined. “Alright, alright. I’ll comply with ye wishes. Just before I let ye hear what words are about to fall from my lips, I need ye to swear yourself to secrecy, and promise that ye are with me to the end of this mission. I can’t have ye decline, and tell your little tavern friends about the so-called ‘crap’ one tall guy told ye. You speak of anything, me and my mates will find out, and then you’ll have a number worthwhile over ye head.”

Lisean shook his head at first in response to the mindless babbling, and slowly opened his eyes to peer down at the stranger’s feet. He looked up at Clement, and combed a hand through his hair as he took the time to reconsider. Maybe if he had to lay down such a warning, the people he worked for knew how to give a hefty reward. Smiling some to himself, the necromancer nodded his head, and turned his back to Clement, just to suddenly send his foot into the gut of the dead troll, forcing the corpse onto its back. Of course, with so much force in a single kick, Lisean was aching, but only expressed his slight pain by looking down at his foot and shaking it around a bit.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Clement. Now, spill it.”

[Lisean]

“Okay.. So let’s see if I can comprehend this..” Lisean began.

The two had vacated from their spot in the middle of the path, and the necromancer formerly introduced his campsite to Clement, who felt somewhat at home. He had no reason to be that way. The only thing that really displayed the nature of Lisean’s temporary sleeping ground was the small dug up mound in the middle of the ground, riddled with the ashes and remains of wood that he had burned before taking at nap. He must’ve fallen asleep while gazing into the fire. The aroma that thin black smoke would carry was somehow still lingering about the clearing.

“There’s a man who is against your affiliates named Trosk. He is the leader of a group of trolls like the one you killed called the Warstorm Clan. You are on.. assignment, in aims of discovering their numbers, and whatever details that could possibly challenge this.. Grander’s Order. You want me to tag along with you, just incase you are spotted by any of the enemy, and to help possibly nab some supplies from their base, which is located somewhere around us. Does that sum up to your extremely large lesson?”

The half-breed simply nodded his head, and gave his new comrade a small smile. “Remember, whether ye want to or not, yer coming with me,” he reminded Lisean, who had picked up a small stick and began to inscribe random magical runes around a pentagram he had drawn in the middle of the ashes he sat before. Clement was directly across from him, trying to figure him out as much as possible by studying him carefully. He'd get nowhere, if he were only using his eyes. “Tis not that hard a task for ye. Is it, Lisean?” Clement imposed, only to receive a shake of the necromancer’s head. Not only did it serve as an appropriate method of answering someone, but it also got those rebellious strands of hair out of the path of his eyes.

“The only difficulty I see in coping with a stranger.. is that I’m coping with a stranger,” Lisean answered, flashing a smile and admitting to trying to make a sort of humorous comment. He failed, at least in his eyes, and permitted his lips to move back to a frown anyone could depict. He was hurt. He had been hurt for a majority of his life, that was neglected by somebody he once thought he needed.

Clement tilted his head awkwardly to one side, and slid his legs from the knees down into the ditch, letting them dangle inches over Lisean’s artistry. “I do not see any.. difficulty.. in getting to know each other,” he responded, using the spellcaster’s own words to attain his attention. “Would you like me to go first? Or you?”

Lisean didn’t answer. He was a little too busy tending to his meaningless drawings.

The giant sighed, and rose to his feet, walking off from the clearing. Lisean didn’t even bother to turn his eyes up to see where he was heading off to. In his eyes, Clement was probably already fed up with him. Good. Not like he worked all that well with others, anyway. The necromancer sighed out of both boredom, and happiness once he had thought he got the privacy he felt like he thrived for. That was until Clement finally got his attention when he cast the body of the troll he killed earlier into the black and white ash, ruining what could’ve been the blueprints of a spell of Lisean’s own design.

“I.. am what you would call one of those,” Clement began, pointing down at the troll. His lips gave Lisean a fond smirk, telling the necromancer he’d better listen well, if he wished to remain on Althanas. “My parents are of totally different blood. He’s a troll, while she is human, just like you. I guess combined you may wind up with the atrocity that is me,” he said, chuckling a little afterwards. “They are still alive, but I believe my mother will be nearing death soon. She’s.. very sick,” Clement explained, momentarily frowning before he shook his head of the idea of death. Didn’t seem as if it sat all comfortable with him. “My father will live much longer than her. I can’t imagine what it will be like for him to lose her. It’s gonna be hard for me, when it happens.”

Lisean shook his head when Clement had finally drawn his eyes away from him. The necromancer wasn’t in the mood to hear rambling. If he intended on introducing himself, he could at least stick to his background, rather than his soon to be crummy future. Lisean had no right to become a part of Clement’s life. Therefore, he had no reason to care.

“As I grew older, I taught myself how to fight. I felt the need to defend myself after being picked on as a child. I was what you would call.. a freak. Nevertheless, the humiliation did not stop me from my success. I eventually got away from it all when I joined the Radasanthian militia. An offer swung around to join The Grander’s Order when I was thirty. Since I was recruited I’ve been making my mark, and have been working up in the ranks. That leads to where I am now. Here, standing before you.”

Lisean very slowly rose up to his feet, and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t seem in the least bit impressed by the words that had come out of Clement’s mouth. Sure, it sounded like he had plenty of experience, but it didn’t exactly make him fall to his knees and label the halfbreed his superior.

“Your turn, Lisean,” Clement muttered under his breath, as he began to walk around the ditch to confront the necromancer face to face. He stood over him, and mimicked Lisean’s actions, crossing his own arms over his chest, making him look rather intimidating. Of course, he didn’t mean to. He was just intrigued to finally found out a little about him. The spellcaster lowered his head, now seeking some sort of escape as his hair fell over his face.

The was a moment of silence that Lisean did not want to end. He closed his eyes, dreaming of forever. It never had any hope of arriving when Clement was forced to repeat himself.

“Lisean.. It’s yer turn.”

[Lisean]

“You don’t want to know about me,” Lisean refused, after a long awaited sigh was permitted its exit from his lips. The necromancer turned his back to the troll, in hopes of regaining his mental strength. The eyes that were still staring him down through the back of his head were no different than the people that had once put Lisean to shame. He felt enslaved, even though there were no barred walls surrounding his figure.

“Oh? But as a matter o’ fact, mate..” Clement said, slapping his palms into Lisean’s biceps to prevent his escape. Spinning him back around was no task to be worth paid for. A stuck-up grin filled the half-blood’s teeth as he glared down upon the human. A single hard toss back and relinquishing his grip forced Lisean’s spine to collide into the path of a tree serving as his only brake. Arching his back to momentarily take in the sharp pain in his back as Clement fast approached him once again, this time having him cornered, Lisean knew without a doubt he had been defeated. What’s worse was that Clement needed no sort of weapon to get the wisdom he sought. “I do.”

Keeping yourself from the brink of death was but one of many instincts a vast majority of beings contained. The will to survive. Now, that would be considered valuable to the hearts of some. Hell, Lisean would have been clutching it like a mother would her newborn baby, if he only had the capacity to understand the true value of life. He had become so fascinated by his studies in death, that he could not await the day he entered eternal sleep. He longed for it, but would not beg like a dog. His choice on whether to speak or not could downright seal his fate. What had he to lose?

“I’ll be generous, Clement..” Lisean responded, his lips forming a small smirk as his salmon eyes rose up to oppose the superior power of the giant. “..and spare you the trouble to thinking too harsh. You’re not getting shit out of me. Now, either take that as fair warning, and don’t try to hassle me again.. or just simply go to hell. Bet they’re waiting for you.”

Bringing the conversation to a quick closure made the half-troll’s jaw almost drop. For a human, he sure did carry a mouth that he knew how to use when the time was right. Even with his imposing presence, the necromancer somehow was still able to flash that smirk, even after telling him off. A man in the Grander’s Order had to at least take pride in what came out of his mouth, and it seemed Lisean met the prerequisites. Clement slapped him across the arm with an open hand, and smiled in admiration.

“Heha! I knew ye had it in ye!”

“Please.. just.. don’t do that again,” Lisean answered just a quickly as his hand did when it came to rubbing the now sore limb Clement had blessed him with. “Maybe when I’m a little more comfortable with you’re company, I can spare a few more appropriate words befitting your intrusion of what is rightfully my privacy.”

Wow.. this kid really has something in him, Clement thought, saying what was on his mind in the form of mild chuckling. He’ll probably get along fine with Sarah.. Maybe even Zerith or Raelyse. Nah, I’m way too ahead of myself. Sarah’s far enough. A hearty cackle was forced out of the half-troll’s lips, before he shut-up, after being given an awkward glare by Lisean.

“Where is this encampment that Trosk stations himself in?” The necromancer questioned, getting immediately into business to hopefully destroy Clement’s humorous seconds of fame. He was successful in doing so. Clement looked left and right, before keeping his eyes locked upon the trees almost directly behind him, save for a forty five degree turn to the right.

“There. Maybe ‘bout a quarter-mile northeast.”

“Meaning if that man does not return, they must already have scouts out looking for him?” he asked, pointing down at the corpse left pilfered in the distance off the side of the road.

“Aye,” Clement answered, nodding his head.

Lisean closed his eyes to take in the fact they were now open targets, embracing his next deep breath of fresh air. He savored it like it were his last. They had to dispose of the body, or at least hide it in one hell of a indistinguishable spot. Clement was but two-steps behind him, for when the necromancer had finally opened his eyes and stood up to the cold hard truth, the half-troll had wiped his hands clean of his deed after dragging the hefty body into a large bush. Lisean shook his head to himself, rubbing a hand over his forehead to brush a few strands of hair out of the path of his eyes. “Predictable,” Lisean commented, causing Clement to stop before the spellcaster, and express his hospitality by handing him the finger.

“Shove it up yer arse!” he almost shouted, but didn’t in knowing they were hence forth in enemy territory. Surveying the area after all became silent once again, Clement spoke no more, and crouched down, wavering Lisean to follow him out of the campsite.

With no real trust in the half-breed, but the rewards well in mind, Lisean complied and strayed not too far behind after under a minute of dictating. Much more of his intellect was advising him to keep his lips sealed, and get his mission over and done with as soon as possible.

[Lisean]

Heading in the direction spared under Clement’s good knowledge, a certain unsubtlety still remained in the ever-so-cautious mind of the spellcaster that was forced into dirty work. Regardless of how trustworthy the half-troll presumed to be, Lisean didn’t take much of his antics lightly. As the man ran far ahead of him, not much luck of communicating over hushed words would be possible. The advisory the necromancer had to take came in the form of his movements, mimicking each one upon seeing such actions. When he stopped, Lisean stopped. When he leaned back up against a tree, the spellcaster did the same to the closest structure of the like. It wasn’t until Clement had fallen onto his stomach that he’d finally realize something was wrong.

“Son of a bitch..” Clement cursed under his breath, taking one rough palm and setting it over his abdomen. The potion he had taken earlier had begun to seep into its effect. The price was a stinging sensation from inside the body of the consumer, but to heal his wounds without a day’s rest was more than enough reason for Clement to guzzle the substance in the first place. Lisean almost fell just as he did upon hearing the sound of a whistle in the air. Luckily situated in the middle of bushes, the two had easily avoided being spotted by the scouts that surveyed the area directly around them. They wouldn’t be able to pass until the coast was clear.

“Here, let me get a look at that,” Lisean requested, sitting up on his knees to try and roll the giant onto his back. Clement refused, forcing his partner back a foot with his sheer strength concentrated into his free hand that returned to the ground, trying to push him back up on his feet.

“Back off!” he advised strongly, making sure to whisper, yet get the message across sternly to his co-worker. “The potion’s just taking its precious time.”

“Time that we do not have.”

“Aye.” Footsteps triggered both Lisean and Clement’s sudden push back down to the ground, meeting disturbed soil face to face. They remained silent, attentively listening to the thuds of heavy feet which slowly faded into the morning fog. Taking their best guess simultaneously, the two rose precisely at the same time to their feet, dusting themselves off. “Not that much farther to go, lad,” he said, taking a change of pace and warming up to Lisean once the pain had subsided. Taking him by the wrist and almost throwing him forward, the towering male led him in the direction they were heading. In the far distance, faint lights could be seen. Fire added charred smoke to the atmosphere of what was once the peaceful, calming sort. Men were shouting incomprehensible consonant combinations at each other. Some took that abusive, enforcing measure in volume.

“Such mutual respect they display for each other..” Lisean mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and drawing himself to a stop. Clement stepped up next to him, and chuckled, slapping the necromancer across the back and nearly sending him to the ground once again.

“Indeed. The Warstorm Clan know nothing of devoted partnership. They are merely paid to agree and comply with each other. If gold hadn’t been there, the trolls would be restless, and solitary. Most are bound to a life that is driven by causing death, and seeking equal challenge. Unfortunately, they believe we are a nuisance. Trolls consider their own kind the perfect prey to hunt.”

“You mean they’re cannibals?”

“Yes.”

“Joy..” Lisean responded with a glint expressing lack of sympathy towards the race. His lips rose to form a smirk. Perhaps these trolls could be further studied at his own personal accord. “Could be easy enough to win them over with the likes of offering better profit than what they’re already earning. Simple enough to bribe one and obtain a traitor.”

“That is where we refuse. As much as some of the Order would promote your first impression, Raelyse is not the type to just give up money, let alone anything. He is more than willing to put a more.. permanent solution into play. Just have to play our cards right.” Clement took a couple of steps forward, crouching down and wavering a hand to the necromancer, who did not have to consider for even a second. He accepted the invitation, walking up to his side to peer over the shrubs for a good view of the entire encampment.

“Perfect. Now.. first things first..” Clement began. “The boss wants to configure a damn approximate estimate of their numbers, so.. start counting.”

"Wait, why me?"

"Because.. I can't count if my life depended on it."

[Lisean]

A sigh that dictated his lack of choice led Lisean to sit down upon his knees, and raise a finger up to point at every troll that passed back. Clement was more-so awaiting the very moment the number was given, so that he could unleash his share of imaginary bloodshed. He knew he couldn’t move on the offensive, but he wanted to. He craved it like a vampire did blood. His breathing was heavy enough to make the necromancer lose his count a couple of times, furthering his agitation towards the half-breed. Eager hands desperately reach for the hand-axes over Clement’s chest, but his mind denied the privilege. Lisean’s lips moved with every number he managed to successfully count, whilst his partner in crime gave him an odd, confused look. He obviously didn’t even know what the numbers meant. All that mattered was the total.

“How many ye at?”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t ye tell me to shuttit,” Clement began to argue, making Lisean quickly registering his count before finally managing to deal with the incomprehensible loudmouth.

“Okay.. Would you mind closing your mouth so I can do your job?”

“Hmmm.. Sure.”

The nuisance Clement was being was far beyond anything Lisean ever had to deal with before. Ticked off, the necromancer crossed his arms over his chest, and shifted his eyes back to the last troll he had marked in his mind. Lucky for him, he wasn’t moving at all. The oaf was fast asleep. Rather than pointing, Lisean nodded his head to everyone he saw. It seemed as if Clement had known his way around the woods, for the spot had just surveyed the entire encampment. Numbers were at least able to be calculated with such short notice, which was a good thing for the human, at least. The stench that reeked from these hideous creatures made Lisean sick to his stomach. He tried his hardest not to breathe in too deep.

“Your commander.. Does he.. want any other information regarding the numbers and such?”

“What ye mean by that?”

“Well.. there are the standard fighters, garbed in what looks like makeshift hide. Then, there are the ones with bows and arrows wearing scraps of leather. There’s an odd guy in robes, though.”

“Aye. Mages.”

“Mages?!” Lisean turned his head over to look at Clement. He was appalled. He always saw the barbarians as.. barbarians. He believed their minds were unable to foresee the art otherwise known as magic. Didn’t they favour the axe? This was going to prove a problem, in the necromancer’s eyes. Spellcasters had high intellect, and improved sensibility. They could detect danger in their midsts. “What do they practice? How are they proficient with that kind of expertise?”

“Oy! Don’t be lookin’ at me fer answers!” Clement answered, raising his hands up to protect himself from the spellcaster, who was about ready to put one of his own axes into his skull. “We ‘ave to find that out on our own.”

Lisean closed his eyes, and inhaled the inexplicable stench of the encampment, relieving his stress at the cost of his stomach turning over unsettled. Arguing would lead to higher tones of voice, and eventual shouting of the giant. In the end, they’d be found, and the necromancer didn’t want that. Now that he knew there were mages present, he had to keep on his guard even more. However.. the chance of finding something useful for himself rose greatly. He dealt with the matter by his own accord, and shut his mouth. Clement followed his example, and continued to watch him count again.

“I’m at fifty six. Happy?”

“Neh. Dunno what that means.”

“….”

“What? Did I say some’in?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. Seventy.”

“Seventy? The hell’s ‘at supposed te mean?”

“There’s seventy, by my count.”

“Seventy what?”

“..Shut up. Just.. Shut up.”

“Why I oughta-”

“ARRGHH!!! OOOH ACH AGG!!” shouted one of the more higher ranking soldiers of the army Lisean and Clement were infiltrating. They were both dumbfounded, left to simply look at each other, whispering what they thought they heard to each other. Talk about intelligence. By the time their eyes had moved back to the base, the numbers had all gathered in the middle of camp, in a somewhat orderly fashion (or rather tried to).

“This is perfect,” Lisean said.

“Why ye say that?”

“Because.. Now, I can clarifying my numbers since all the men have gathered in one spot. I can count the ones that were inside their tents. In the meantime..” Lisean paused. Very slowly, he drew a grin, and flashed it to Clement, who seemed targeted.

“..In the meantime, what?”

“You can go down into the camp, and start collecting info regarding whatever else Raelyse wanted from you. This keeps my ass from harm, and yours on the brink of utter death at many angles. Can’t you just feel your insides being ripped open?”

Clement swallowed back hard in sarcasm, playing along with Lisean’s ‘motivational’ speech. In reality, the half-troll couldn’t hide his stomach turning three times over. Salmon eyes moved to the group, and began to count once again, leaving Clement without a say in the order issued by the necromancer.

“Argh! Fine, but ye better catch up when yer done with your… counting.. thing.”

Lisean didn’t bother to answer Clement. He shunned him, taking his chance wisely and doing his job. The half-troll grunted, and quickly stormed down the small hill into the encampment. From hereon-in, every little thing mattered. Every step, every word risked spoken. If there was a flaw leading to failure, Lisean knew it’d all be Clement’s fault.