The Beasts

[Caysim Winters]

The Beasts: Fallien is a vast desert and wasteland that has largely been unexplored due to the uninhabitable conditions. Because of this there are many races that still grace these deserts that have yet to be discovered. To add further information about the creatures that dwell within this land, the Priestesses of Fallien wish for someone to travel the land and document as best they can the creatures they find therein. There are no limits to how many people can accept this mission. Their habitat, what they eat, how they travel and any special abilities they may have are just some of the kinds of information they want. Though some species are bound to be hostile, engaging in combat with them is not something the Priestesses wish for, unless your life is in danger.

Conditions: Quest

Rewards: 300-800 GP depending on the information brought back, and credited addition to Fallien's canon bestiary if the creature seems suitable for the Fallien region.

Status: Open, one claimed by Josef ben Loewe.

-

The wind bellowed over the sandy flats of the desert that encompassed most of Fallien. As the rolling motion of the air continued, debris was curled into the mass ranging from pebbles of sand that could hardly be seen with a naked eye to rock the size of an average man’s fist. It covered the most of the heated horizon as it stampeded its way across the land swallowing anything up from visibility that it crashed into.

At the bordering of the desert, in the Zaileya Mountains, blue eyes popped open. They turned with the same direction as his head from where he was laid up next to the rocky wall of a crevice creeping its way into the mountains. They stared down at the rocky ground that was like most things in Fallien, partially covered by spots of sand. The target of the attentive glare were loose pebbles that were slowly shifting across the floor. The eyes widened as the slow vibrations became more and the tiny stones began to go from a slide to a hop.

The figure turned quickly to the opening of the crevice that looked out into the desert. He jerked his torso upward and his feet slid underneath his body. Once propelled to a stand, he could only gasp at the enormous wave of sand and wind that was rolling directly toward him. It was a…

“Sandstorm!!” The man yelled out as his body turned to run towards cover deeper in the crevice.

As the man ran, he stepped over other similar dressed me, four to be exact. They woke from their slumber underneath light tan blankets at the roar their friend had shouted out. They too did not linger long in their slumped positions as the threat of the explosive wind storm headed directly at the. They followed in suit behind the first as they bee lined their way through the crevice. It was only seconds later that it was discovered that cover was too far as the debris filled winds erupted into the crevice flinging them from their feet through the narrow passageway.

The sound of the wind passing around him, channeled by the mountain walls, could still be heard. The sand and rocks that made its way with the lowered, yet continuous charge of violent air, pelted anything, including his armor and shield as he held himself there against the fury. His shield remained up, while he remained crouched behind it. It was all he could possibly think of doing given what little time he had after getting up off of his back after being flung by the wind. His body ached from where he had bashed down the crevice walls and his vision blurred from not only banging his head a few times, but also from the thick sandy air that still whipped amongst him and the men.

Over just the top of his shield, the man saw a figure making its way to him through narrowed eyes. Once the darkened object got closer he realized it was one of the other soldiers being slung across the ground. With only a seconds thought, the man behind the shield through out his arm and snatched the warrior up to pull him behind his own protective barrier, the shield.

“Thanks Caysim…” The warrior said to the man with a tired fatigued voice.

After hearing the voice, Caysim looked down from his shield. His bluish eyes examined the warrior who had spoken with such a familiar voice. It was Jacobi Runewinger who Caysim had snagged in behind him. He seemed just as battered and dazed as Caysim was when he stabilized himself after the hit. Sandstorms were no joke in the treacherous dunes of Fallien. It was a lesson that came with its reminder every time anyone found their selves in them.

“I think it best we move on deeper into Zaileya, Jacobi.” Caysim said with a smile.

Jacobi said nothing after slowly shaking his head about as if shaking his blurred vision off. He simply just nodded with a glossy eyes look and started to move low to the ground. Caysim moved right behind him with his shield up protecting the two of them. They continued that until they finally pushed their way out of the narrow way and into a web of more rocky passages, but these were much more open, which caused the wind to simply die out.

Before Caysim were four men. All of them dressed just as he was. They were part of a unit, a brotherhood, and uniformity was a bond they shared. The five of them all belonged to a mercenary group known as Wyvern, which numbered to only twenty. Out of most of them, some were from Caysim’s own tribe, the Vani, while most had ventured from all over Fallien to fight alongside him. Out of the four, only Jacobi was Vani. Out of all of the Wyvern, these four were all that Caysim had brought and they had already been beaten and battered by the long hot days, frigid nights, and natural dangers that burdened any traveler in Fallien.

It was a mission that Caysim and his Wyvern had taken on from a Priestess they stumbled upon at Suravani’s Oasis. It seemed a simple task that they could just do from time to time amongst their ventures. There was no need to mobilize them all, so Caysim had separated his militia into three groups. There was two five man teams and one ten man team. The two five man teams were to scout the local lands, while the rest waited there in Suravani’s Oasis performing simple tasks, such as protecting the spice lands and the herds of horses for whoever paid the best.

The other two teams had marched out of Suravani’s Oasis and headed towards the more unknown lands of Fallien. The western portion of the country had mostly been well known, due to the trade routes along the Attireyi River. It was also home to Irrakam, the glass fields of Nirrakal, the spice lands of Ryuuya, and Suravani’s Oasis. The eastern lands were left unknown to most because of the jagged peaks and winding canyons of Zaileya. It was a maze of steep cliffs, hardly any known vegetation, and the unforgettable threat of bandits and Harpies. You were destined to either get lost or eaten. There was no other outcome.

[Caysim Winters]

Caysim stooped on a rock while looking down at some sand that was clumped there in front of him. His knees were curled up into his chest and his arms hung from where the bottom of his biceps rested on his knees. His shield was laying at the foot of the rock with his curved bladed sword sheathed within it. In one hand was his spear that he worked from his perch onto the sand. He looked intently on his drawings with the wooden end of his weapon until Jacobi made his way from the rest of the soldiers.

“Where do we stand?” Caysim asked diverting his attention to his friend, but not his eyes.

“Well, we’re all a little banged up, but no serious injuries. Just scratches and bruises, but what’s new right?” Jacobi asked with a slight chuckle as he cracked the friendly joke on the lifestyle that they took upon their selves.

“That’s true…” Caysim said smiling slightly.

“As far as food and water, boss, we are definitely gonna need to think this through…” Jacobi said then with a stern voice.

The men had been traveling for days, and quite honestly, that wouldn’t have been a problem, but Zaileya was new to them. It was unknown to all of them at that matter. The desert seemed a more friendly place. It was quite sad that Caysim was thinking about how comforting the desert was sounding at that moment. Out there they knew, but here? Caysim couldn’t help, but to scan his surroundings as he thought of the mountains.

“We don’t know this area, but that’s what we’re here to do.” Caysim said with a stern voice.

“Take someone with you. I don’t care who it is. I want you two to scout up ahead. See what you can find or see. The rest will remain here and guard what we have left. Make a circling around us. I want up to fifty meters known.” Caysim said.

“No problem, boss.” Jacobi said with a nod.

Jacobi pushed his way from the rock Caysim was perched on. He went towards the four men to pick one of them up and pass out the others their orders. Caysim sat there still looking down at his drawing of the track they had made. It showed how they had departed from Suravani’s Oasis as one whole group. The other group of five had parted ways with them, however, a little farther north. He had no idea where they were lost at in the Zaileya, but he felt confident, because they had not journeyed so far across the desert. Then again, he didn’t quite know what the Zaileya actually had to offer. They may have gotten into more than they had bargained for.

“And Jacobi…” Caysim said as Jacobi and the other warrior was making their way pass him and into the wild.

“Yeah?” Jacobi said.

“Be back before nightfall…” Caysim said as his eyes actually looked up, after drawing an ‘x’ into the sand, so that his point would be caught.

[Caysim Winters]

The Cacti of Zaileya

Jacobi and the other Wyvern moved slowly over the rocks of the Zaileya. The sun had been dropping for sometime now, and night was possibly only a few hours away at most. The heat was simmering, but that was only a good thing for that hour or two before night. Soon the heat would be more than welcomed to any traveler. The cold was coming, and Jacobi could already feel it’s chilling winds creep up around him causing him to pull a blanketing cape of sorts from his small satchel and bringing it over his shoulders. It wouldn’t be much longer that the cape would be of much warmth.

Jacobi’s eyes shifted up from where he had his chin tucked into his chest while he was trying to lace his cape to his shoulders. His feet stopped moving over the rocks. His boots planted firmly on the hard, jagged surface. His ears seemed to have almost twitched at some sound that he heard. He froze to listen harder at any second recognition of it.

The eerie noise came once again…

“Augusta…move!” Jacobi yelled out once the noise happened another time.

It was too late, however. Once the warrior turned to his comrade, he heard a piercing shrill. His eyes grew big when he met the soldier in his line of sight. The silent soldier who had come with him was clasping his neck with his hands tightly. His spear and shield both fell to the ground with a clank. There seemed nothing wrong with him until spurts of blood sprung from various spots of his right side as a whipping sound could be heard again.

Jacobi watched his friend fall to the ground while the quick spray of blood misted from his body. With no second to spare, the Wyvern brought his shield up and his knees bent as he went to the ground seeking some kind of confined protection. Luck had smiled on his as he felt the pings on his shield from some unknown attacker.

“The hell…?” Jacobi said to himself as he heard the whipping noise through the air again.

The warrior swung with his shield and then brought it back down to a guarding stance. After hitting nothing, his eyes rose above the crescent of his shield. They peered over the brim of it scanning the terrain,. His pupils darted back and forth impatiently as he could see nothing out there. His eyes were useless, but his ears were not, however, as he ducked his head once more to the sound of something being shot through the air.

Ping! Ping, ping, ping!

The attacks were in short bursts. They came quick and in only a blink of an eye, but they came in what sounded like the hundreds. It was hard to tell, since he couldn’t see anything. All he could do was hear the projectiles shoot through the air and hitting either his shield of the rocks around him. When he looked, though, he could see nothing remaining. There was no dart, or arrow, or bolt. It was as if he was under attack by…nothing…

[Caysim Winters]

The Cacti of Zaileya

A piercing scream could be heard echoing through the rugged pathways of the mountains. Caysim was the first to jump to his feet. The other two men, came running to his side with their weapons in hand. He turned to see their anticipation clouded by a look of worry. He couldn’t blame them. He, too, found himself slightly startled about the situation.

“Don’t be brash…” Caysim said lowly as he hoisted his shield up.

Caysim knew the nights of Fallien. It was something he didn’t quite care to know of first hand, but it was something that had saved him on multiple occasions. The day was brutal, but the nights were deadly. Heats scorched the day, but water and shade was never too far to find, if you were smart. The nights, however, lifted that heat from the surface, which allowed creatures, unknown to most out. The chill of the dropped temperature could not be warded away by a sip of water or an over hanging rock for some comforting shade. The best was fire, but it was a desert, and wood was scarce.

“Keep your eyes open, your ears alert, and your body vigilante.” Caysim said as he started moving.

The two soldiers moved there behind Caysim. They walked in a zig-zagged line through the rocky terrain. Their boots moved with a fleet of foot, but not a sprint. Caysim led, watching the front, as he always did. The first behind him panned the sides of the rocky walls, looking carefully for any ambush. The last would make his movement, but maintain a constant turn to the rear, guarding it for any surprise that may come. It was ironic to him that most would see him and his soldiers trained to kill or murder, but that was far from fact. A soldier was trained to survive, whether that be alone, or to outlast their enemy.

Caysim stumbled up on the body of the Wyvern, who laid there motionless on stained rocks. His shield was still up as he stood there scanning the area with a bewildered look. One of the other soldiers who had come with him lowered his guard and slumped there beside the fallen warrior. He looked the warrior over for a bit and then gazed up at Caysim after picking something up from the ground.

“It’s….a thistle?” The warrior said with a confused tone as he stared at the small spinal that he was showing Caysim.

“A thistle?” Caysim asked as he still looked around the area.

“Yes, sir.” The warrior said with his same tone.

Caysim thought for a moment as he glanced down at the thin sharp object that the soldier was showing him. It was hardly visible when held. It was a pasty clear linear object. One side of it was naturally sharpened to a point. The other end of it was a green slimy gunk that smeared a clear slime across his finger tip when the soldier touched it. It was chlorophyll.

“A plant did this?” The soldier asked with a shocking look.

A noise could be heard from around the men. It sounded like air pushed out with pressure. They tried to react with some alertness, but failed at getting to a proper defense in such little time. Before they could raise their shields, a pinching feeling punctured Caysim’s left arm multiple times. The same feeling had struck one of the other soldiers, but across both of his legs. The third had been caught on his face, but nothing too serious.

Now, lightly wounded, and back to back, the three men knelt there behind their shields under darkening skies in the Zaileya Mountains…

[Caysim Winters]

Cacti of Zaileya

Caysim heard nothing , but silence after the string of attacks from nearly invisible projectiles. From behind his rose shield, his eye looked down to his left arm at the thons protruding from his flesh. The red blood, now looking almost a shade of black in the dimmed sky, poured slowly. They were only flesh wounds and not critical, by any means, but they sent a constant stinging their from both an irritable annoyance and pain.

Not knowing whether they were poisonous, Caysim reached over with his other arm, after sheathing his sword. His fingers went one by one and grabbed the thorns firmly to jerk them from his skin. Each one sent a sharp pain after an odd feeling of him jerking the natural darts out. He could do nothing, but tense his muscles and grit his teeth while inhaling a quick breath through his clenched teeth with every pull.

“Damn these things…” Caysim said after dropping the last elongated thorn on the sand and rock underneath his feet.

“How y’all doing?” Caysim asked, looking back to the two soldiers.

“I’m good, Caysim, but…Faraq is…” One of the soldiers said while looking at his friend.

The soldier, Faraq, who had been pegged across his right cheek, was kneeling there to the ground, attempting to get as much cover as possible. His sword laid there on the ground with drops of blood gathering on the side of his blade from where his face was hanging over it. One of his hands was pulling on one of the thorns, but the fatty cheek wasn’t letting it go. Instead the cheek just pulled along with the thorn, making the pain worsen and almost becoming unbearable.

“Get it out of me!!” Faraq hollered with frustration as his body trembled with pain after another failed attempt of pulling the various items from his face.

“Hold tight!” The soldier said as he slapped Faraq’s hand trying to get him to stop pulling.

The situation was looking worst and worst with every second. The temperature was dropping low and quickly, on that. With no sun, the scenery was almost hard to even see. There wasn’t quite a problem with that in the dunes, but the mountains gave thick black shadows from the rugged terrain around them. The moonlight could barely come in with what little passage was actually granted to it’s beams. The plants, couldn’t be seen, the trails given to them for any possible escape couldn’t be seen, and with no light and the cold, finding Jacobi, keeping warm, or even aiding what men he had left was feeling impossible. A risk had to be taken.

“Faraq, get up! We move on me. Don’t drop your guard at all! I want a full circle of protection. Now, move!” Caysim said once Faraq complied to his orders.

With one solid motion, the group moved in a direction. Their distance was little, but they had made progress. With that three foot step, however, another volley of the needles came whistling through the air. The sounds of them making their target could be heard on the outside of the men’s shields as they continued to stay protected with them. Once the noises stopped, another order could be heard barked off by Caysim as he shouted his commands to keep them moving one step at a time.

[Caysim Winters]

The Cacti of Zaileya

Suddenly a startling rush came over Caysim as an orange light could be seen blanketing the area. Caysim turned his head and drew his sword quickly. He felt a warmth cover his face as he rose to confront whatever was making its way over the ledge. His eyes narrowed to the light beaming from a torch held in the hand of none other than, Jacobi.

At the bottom of Jacobi’s feet, and in the line of sight of Caysim, small green plants sucked up pinkish flowers back into the hardened husks that made up their bodies. It was almost as if they were hiding in some sort of fashion, all of them, that could be seen in the light. When all was used, it was meant to be quite the high number. Caysim realized, in the light, that he and his men were surrounded my numerous fist sized plants.

“Lets go!” Jacobi shouted.

Caysim and his men did not hesitate for long before moving. At first, they stepped over the plants, attempting to dodge them, but as the light from the torch flickered, they hastened their pace towards Jacobi, up on the ridge of rock. With every few careless steps, a noise that almost sounded like a low squeak could be heard as the plants squished beneath their boots.

Caysim was the last to go over the rocks, as he kept behind to hoist the soldier who had been wounded in the leg up. After crawling over them, they all followed Jacobi as quickly as they could, trying to stay in the light of the torch. They didn’t stop their huddled sprint until they went came into a wide rocky opening. It was there that Jacobi finally slowed down and knelt there. The others followed in suit and went to the ground exhaling harshly from fatigue and the thin air of the mountains.

“Ha…ha…ha ha…” Jacobi started to laugh as he knelt there with his makeshift torch designed from his sword and cloak.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” Caysim asked with an irritated, but winded tone.

“You.” Jacobi said between laughs.

“You should’ve saw your face when I came over that ridge.” Jacobi said then as clear as he could have given the outburst of laughs.

Caysim’s alertness was completely shattered then as he thought about how he did react when that orange glow came through the dark. He pulled his arm from the straps of his shield and then pushed his legs from underneath his body, so that he could sprawl backwards on the still warmed rocks. He breathed hard there, still juiced by the adrenaline running through his veins. The, like something contagious, he too started laughing at his fright.

[Caysim Winters]

The Cacti of Zaileya

The warmth of the morning sun had started taking its effect over Fallien. The sun started cresting jagged peaks that surrounded Caysim as he sat there looking out towards it. He sat there with foggy breath leaving his mouth as the warmth of his own air was clouding the moisture of the still cold air around him. His body was draped in a blanket of sorts, one that his men had carried with them on their ventures. It was what Jacobi had used to make the torch last night that had rescued them all.

The warrior could have probably used more sleep than what he managed last night, but failed. He couldn’t sleep due to a multitude of reasons, but really none of that could be helped. He was damned if he tried to fix them, and damned if he didn’t try. The more important factor was figuring which route would exhaust the least over the longest amount of time.

“Thinking about our supplies, eh?” Jacobi said then as he started to raise up from where he was sleeping on the rock.

Caysim hated that characteristic about Jacobi. He was one to not really expect anyone to actually know what he was thinking. Half the time, he actually didn’t even know what he was doing, so expecting someone else too was a far spit. The two of them had been knowing each other for quite some time, however. They had both come from the Vani Tribe, born and raised. It was only right that over so many years, they would know one another, no matter how little of time their life had given them as soldiers.

“We’re running low, Jacobi, and we still have at least days to pass before we actually get out to the other side. On top of that, what is on the other side, my friend? This is Fallien, there ain’t no oasis on the other side of this mountain.” Caysim said.

“I hate when you make sense. Can’t you just have some hope? I mean, look at those plants, boss? They are out here in the Zaileya. Plants, boss! Its hard enough to find water out there in the dunes where vegetation may grow, and here these plants find it some-!” Jacobi said and had almost finished, but was stopped suddenly.

“What did you say?” Caysim asked after he turned to grab Jacobi by the collar of his armor.

“Plants, boss?” Jacobi asked oddly before shoving Caysim from him.

Caysim stood to his feet and dropped the blanket to the ground. The two other men there had been alarmed and woke by Jacobi and his conversation. They watched as Caysim grabbed up his gear and started his way back along the path they had taken over the night. Their eyes widened as they looked at one another, and then they watched as Jacobi had followed after Caysim shortly afterwards.

“I guess we should follow, Faraq…” The one soldier said to the other which signaled them both to get to their feet.

[Caysim Winters]

The Cacti of Zaileya

“This is stupid, Caysim!” Jacobi whispered angrily.

The soldier was following Caysim there across the rocky ground. The two of the crawled across the rough surface slowly. Caysims shield was hung from his back with his sword sheathed within it. His spear was clenched tightly in his right hand. His armor could be heard with a scratching rubbing noise as he slid across the rocks and sand on his chest and on all fours.

“Shut up! I don’t want them to hear us.” Caysim said seriously as he continued his crawl closer and closer to the ledge that overlooked the dip that the cactus were resting in.

“Hear us? Did you hear yourself? You’re talking mad, boss!” Jacobi whispered in an even more annoyed tone as he finally stopped there next to Caysim.

Jacobi stared at Caysim angrily there for a few seconds as the annoyance of not knowing what was going on was getting to him. Not only was he stranded out in the Zaileya, but he had just crawled a few yards across uncomfortable and hard rocks that were getting hotter underneath the Fallien sun that was rising higher with the minute. For what? He did all that with no reasoning given to him at all, and he was demanding one. His attention turned in front of him, however, when he noticed that Caysim and himself had stopped.

“Oh shit!” Jacobi said loudly on only the first word, but then a stunned whisper on the second as he caught himself.

There in front of the two warriors sat a green plant. It looked as if it was a rugged rock painted green, by the way the surface of it looked. It was lined with cracks and crevices, making no shape quite the same across its husk, but somehow, like a puzzle, they had created that ball of a plant. Sticking from that small six inch tall green sphere were the milky white needles. They rowed the plant by the hundreds it seemed. There was something missing from it, however, that Caysim had seen the night prior. That was the pinkish flower petals that he could only see a few seconds before vanishing in the light of the torch last night.

Caysims eyes didn’t even move as he still laid their motionless on the ground. His nose was only a few inches from the plant. It was shocking to him that he didn’t notice it, but it wasn’t quite where the rest of them had been before. This one had somehow gotten up and on the ledge. After taking a second or two, form his peripherals, Caysim could see just a few amount more had always managed to slip out of their crater. How? He couldn’t quite say, but he did know where to look.

Caysim slid his hand up his spear to almost the glass spear tip. He tightened his grip then and brought the sharp edge of the glass blade to the bottom of the spherical plant. He slid from the tip down the sharp edge a way, so that it was resting right where the plant touched the rock. The blade started to slowly cut it was way underneath the plant. With a jerk with his wrist, the weapon had made a quick cut, straight through the few small roots of the plant. He left the plant on the spear tip, leveraged with his thumb resting in between thorns, and started to crawl back.

“What the hell is this all about, boss?” Jacobi said flinching from Caysim as the warrior had turned with the cacti in his hand and passed by him at a disctance that he felt was too close.

“Why the hell don’t you know, Jacobi? You’re the one that came up with the idea.” Caysim said then smiling from ear to ear.

“Me? No, I was talking about how our situation was looking at then you-” Jacobi was trying to finish to say before being interrupted once more by Caysim.

This time, Jacobi just slowly stopped talking as Caysim was beginning to blow his mind up with curiosity. The soldier had watched Caysim pull the sword that had been sheathed out. He then centered the plant on the ground and with a sudden drop, the curved blade had went through the plant at almost a direct centering line. After the chop of the green husk, and right before the steel of the blade met the rock, a squeel could be heard. One similar to that of last nights, when the creatures had been stepped on. It was ignored, though as Jacobi watched as an abundance of water poured from the hollowed out center of the plant.

“Well, damn…I did come up with something, now didn’t I?” Jacobi said then as he looked at the two halves laying on the rock, both filled with water.

[SandStorm]

The Wyvern of Fallien

Miles of sandy earth away, in Suravani's Oasis, existed a one hundred acre plot of land known as Ner'Tak Estate. Despite arid desert heatwaves, vicious sandstorms, and the ongoing threat of being invaded, the small horse-breeding farm had survived. Not only did it survive, it flourished, eventually becoming one of Fallien's finest horse-breeding establishments.

Several buildings were scattered throughout the Ner'Tak Estate. One of them being a mansion, the other a stable, and the last a guest-quarters. The stable, along with the guest-quarters, were nothing to write home about, just average log buildings that formed into massive rectangular shapes. The mansion, however,was constructed of marvelous stones and grout. The structure itself took the shape of a "w," with two corridors looping outward from the center like open arms. Closer look at the mansion also would reveal a well-shaded patio accompanied by several towering walls of stained glass.

The air that flowed near the edge of the Zaileya's, and into most of Ner'Tak Estate, was mostly devoid of sand and didn't blow with the same urgency it did throughout the rest of the mountains. To the Salvarian-bred Marcus Ner'Tak that meant a lot. For one, it made it easier for him to become acquainted with the dry heat of Fallien that had only recently been introduced to.

"Reminds you of home, doesn't it Marcus?" A familiar voice asked from somewhere behind Marcus, tugging his stare from the sand glazed hills. The young Salvarian turned just enough to bring the hulking wall of muscle that was Euclid Ner'Tak into vision.

"Euclid?! Don't you slander my beautiful Salvar by grouping it with this shit pit desert you call a home." Marcus shouted while withdrawing a calvary sabre from his it's sheathe, that rested under his brown trench coat on his belt.

"Gentleman's fence?" Euclid questioned, a smile emerging within his chiseled jawline forcing his cheeks to dimple slightly.

"I don't call it fencing anymore, cousin."

"Well what the hell do you call it then?" Euclid said, the smile on his face twisting to a screw-faced look of confusion.

Marcus looked almost as stumped as his cousin. Truth was, Marcus hadn't fenced since winning a title in Salvar a year prior. He didn't care much for dueling anymore and it reflected on his physique. In a different time Marcus had been rumored to be of expert skills with a calvary sabre, but now he was just better than the average grunt.

"Ah, fuck it. My mother wouldn't care much to receive a letter regarding a fencing accident, in which you her beloved nephew had died." Marcus stated, holding back the shiver of contentment that often accompanied thoughts of his parents.

"Still hate her, huh?" Euclid asked as Marcus sheathed his sabre.

"Is it that obvious?" Marcus finally let out the dorment shiver, before moving towards Euclid for a hug.

"I will have you know that she wrote me. It's the reason I'm here," Euclid moved forward to embrace his cousin. "She wants me to look after you, Marcus. In fact she is paying me to do just that."

"I don't think so Euclid," said Marcus as he pushed his cousin back. "That's not happening."

"Don't be so close minded Marcus, if anything this will give us the chance to have another adventure." Euclid added while taking a seat in one of the few patio chairs hidden from the sun. "You do remember the last time we had an adventure, don't you?"

Marcus smiled, remembering the summer Euclid had spent in Salvar when they were boys. "You've always been a big son'ova'bitch, haven't you?"

Euclid shrugged, his shoulders of muscle peaking just below his chin line.

"So what else did my mother write to you about?"

"She wanted to be sure that you hired guards to help you watch over the farm." Euclid stated.

"It just so happens I have..." Marcus replied, lifting his index finger in the direction of a squad of well-armed mercenaries.

[Caysim Winters]

The Wyvern of Fallien

Awlee started his walk up to the next client that his group of Wyvern had in mind. The large brute of a man was followed by nine other armored soldiers. All of them were dressed to the Wyvern uniform standards, as far as armor and weaponry went, but it was clearly detailed by things as simple as the way they held theirselves or looked that they were from different in many ways. Awlee for example was much larger than the rest in build. He was a towering figure and he shared an air of confidence that the rest of the soldiers had, as well, but none could honestly match his own arrogant image.

“Marcus Ner’Tak, I am Awlee of the Wyvern.” The large man said as he continued his walk to speak with Marcus, while the rest of the men hung behind.

Awlee spoke with quite a rough Tradespeak tongue. He hadn’t quite had the schooling for much in anything outside of his prior clan. He was nothing more than a tool for anyone who had found a use for him. That was something that had followed him since his birth out in the dunes. Slow minded, but there was no equal to anyone in the fields of R’uuya in strength. One once said that his own two man horse team had fallen from the floating teeth disease, and that Awlee pulled the plow himself in half the time the farmers two own stallions could have ever done. Rumors were rumors, though, and no one was to argue with a man that beastly.

“The men just need to get situated with their quarters and assignments for the posts before we work. That’s to say the payment is still solid.” Awlee said then.

“Other than that, I had two of my men scout the surrounding area already and we think we know what we want out there. It should work in three man posts, so we aren’t all occupied out there. The others will switch with them after resting or go on with whatever other duties you have, which will be talked about between me and you, however.” Awlee said then.

This was the unit that Caysim had left behind and for the first few days, no work had been found. Awlee was approached by Marcus, just earlier that day, however, where they had made their own encampment inside the oasis. He had only a team of ten while Caysim took two other teams into the Zaileya on a job brought to them by a priestess. A smile crossed his face as he thought of how Caysim was always saying how they would always be outmanned, but never outdone.

Adaptability was the path of challenges for the man who followed the Wyvern…

[Caysim Winters]

The Gnoll

“This thing is horrible…” Jacobi said as he took another regretted bite from the husked cactus.

The cacti had made quite the asset to Caysim and what was left of his band of mercenaries. The insides of the plant was like a cup full of water. Granted the water was oddly tasting from the cycle the plant used to acquire it, the water was still desired more than ever. The taste of them were a tolerable, but not something you would eat for a snack back home. Raw, they had a sour twang to them and the texture was like wet bark. It reminded Caysim much like the sweet cane that grew alongside the Attreyi River.

This had been the single source that had kept Caysim and his men moving alongside the steeps of the Zaileya for the past few days. Not much had been seen there in the barren peaks. They had only encountered the cacti on a few locations, and they were both during the day and in small colonies, so they served no threat to them at all. Instead, those times around, the Wyvern had plucked more up from where they grew and scraped the thorns off to carry them with them as they continued their journey.

“I actually don’t mind them…” Faraq said as his simple knife that he held in one hand shaved off a sliver of the inner cactus held in the other right before munching on it.

“You would eat the hoof of a horse, though, you iron stomached moron!” Jacobi said playfully then at a common fact that Faraq could actually eat most anything with out even a flinch.

“Iskut!” Caysim said then in his Vani tongue to his comrades.

Jacobi was fluent in the Vani language, which honestly was just a varied dialect of Fallien, and knew instantly that it was a harsh way of saying silence. Faraq and the other soldier had never been taught Vani not one day their entire life, but one could pick up on someone over the time they had spent with their leader, Caysim. He wouldn’t use the language often, but that’s why what words they had been available to, they could pick up. They were normally short one liners and either due to the situation at hand, or the tone and gesture he used the word in, it wasn’t hard to comprehend. A foreign tongue was one with words, but body language was universal to any living form of life.

Caysim lowered to the rocks at their feet. He knelt there looking out ahead. Jaconi had done the same, but had turned around to the other two soldiers to follow in suit. With a quick hand motion to them, the two soldiers complied and started into their routine as always. Faraq had taken up a rear watch behind their patrol. His eyes scanned the area making sure no threat could come at the rear flank unseen. The other simply searched an area after choosing left or right. With one less man, he could only maintain one side for so long, and found himself switching from left to right often.

“What is it, boss…?” Jacobi whispered after he had waited for a few seconds.

The Wyvern leader wished he could answer the question that his friend had asked. He didn’t quite know how, though. His nose twitched there for awhile and it had instantly turn every alarm on. He couldn’t quite pick it up, however, but form what he could best compare it too was the smell of something burning. It could have just been a faint smell of something that he was not used to, or it could have been something old and almost gone. Zaileya had played tricks on the men more than once already in their adventures, but for a reason unknown to Caysim, he was taking this with an urgent uneasiness.

Caysim then realized what the smell had been. It was the old charred remains of smoldering fire. That one piece of information meant nothing to him any longer after that next second had passed. Through the walls of the Zaileya Mountains, a screamed shrilled. It was far, and it was Fallien. Knowing that he had to be near his other group, Caysim could not stand by and take the precautions of properly handling the situation. There had already been one man lost, and possibly more, but luck shined on them enough to leave only a few light wounds. The Wyvern could not risk anymore casualties in the Zaileya. The terrain would swallow a smaller bunch whole once given the opportunity.

The four men took to their feet and in sprints. They charged over the loose rocks towards the direction of the horrific cry. On their way, they passed the old site that the men from the other team had made for camp. It had been left empty, but not undisturbed. There was no time for any farther investigation as the soldiers tracked through the opening to follow into a narrow path. They could only catch for a brief second the fire that had been smelt and tents that had been dropped and vandalized. It was the remnants of a struggle.

Jacobi was the first to come out of the narrow tunnel to see what was the source of the scream. It was one of the Wyvern soldiers from the other team. His gear laid there on the ground around him. His armor had been stripped from his body and scattered with his weapons. His hands had been bounded by rope and the tips of his toes could barely scrape the surface of rock below him from where he had been hanging from the side of a flat cliff side.

“That’s one of our men!” The soldier who was following along with Jacobi had said.

The soldier pushed pass Faraq and Jacobi as he made a dash to the man who hung there. His eyes could only reflect the pain that had been literally drawn upon him with crude bladed weapons. He dropped his shield has he braced the weight of the badly injured soldier with one of his arms, while his other swung the sword that he carried. The rope was cut and the he lowered the body of the man to the ground. While looking over the man, the arm of the soldier shot up to tangle his fingers in the hair of the aiding Wyvern.

“You should’ve…argh…trap…” The man said with his last groan of pain and breath.

The soldier pushed his dead comrade form him. His bottom slid across the ground as his arms pulled him away from the soldier. After a few feet of dragging himself backwards, his fingers had ran up along his shield. Still in fright, his hand yanked the shield up as his body was making their way to his feet. Before fully standing, though, his knees collapsed to the ground and his torso jerked until finally falling as well. Exposed from his back were deeply lodged large shafts of arrows.

[SandStorm]

The Wyvern of Fallien

Euclid waited on the porch while Marcus, Awlee, and the remaining nine Wyvern started towards the guest house. It wasn't until leaving Euclid's range of hearing that Marcus began to speak.

"Family, can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em." Marcus started while letting out a devious grin, "that man up there is my older cousin Euclid. My only real request is that when he is in sight you men are to look busy, because he pulls more strings around here than I do. As for the other duties besides patrolling you asked about, Awlee, I currently have none. Truth is, I don't give two shits about this farm. It could be the best damned farm in the world and still hold less meaning to me than a grain of salt."

The words that flowed from Marcus' mouth were filled with resentment towards his family, mainly his parental unit. The feelings branched from years of royal pampering that recently led to him being exiled to Fallien, the homeland of his mother. He would never forgive his parents for sending him to Fallien. It wasn't so much that he hated his parents as much as he wanted to pay them back. Get even for shipping him off on a one way trip to a sandy hell.

"The payment is still solid and will be payed in weekly lump sums until you guys either move on, or I burn this place to the ground in a thirst-induced rage." Marcus stated, "over there are your quarters, which you will be sharing with the other workers employed by my family. If they give you any grief feel free to smack them around a bit, after all you're my quests here, and as far as I'm concerned those bastard horse-breeders can find another place to work if they have a problem with the new management."

"Now, unless there are any remaining questions I'll be returning to the main house." Marcus paused and waited for a reply, to which there was none. "Okay gentlemen, have yourselves a good night."

With those last words Marcus left the Wyvern to their duties, and made his way back to the patio where his cousin Euclid was still patiently waiting.

[Caysim Winters]

The Wyvern of Fallien

Awlee remained silent as the young man, Marcus spoke. He was normally always silent, and to be one of the duller tools in the shed, his mind was always working. His thoughts were running through his head about the boy who had hired him and the other men. They shied from an actual likeness of the boy. He had been given more than most who lived there in the sands and completely hated the idea. He was truly pampered with no doubt and Awlee found that to be a horrible characteristic in any man. The men who made up the Wyvern had nothing to their names, except for what they had gained while their. They had earned what little they could actually honestly admit in having and respected it with the absolute highest of praise. This boy had tenfold to what all of them had as a whole; family, money, land. It didn’t matter at all.

As Awlee made his way to the men that stood there in armor, he thought back on his own life. He was the son to a horse breeder himself, much like Marcus. The difference, however, was that his family could no longer continue the business. The dunes were a hard place to survive, and even harder when you were making an effort to pulling more through to survival. That was what fate met Awlee’s family.

The large man’s father had grown sick, and he was the only able man to actually handle the small farm. There was only Awlee, his two sisters, and his mother. He was the youngest at the age of eight or so. He tried to do what he could, possibly more than any other boy could have. The day his father finally died, Awlee was more of a man than most, but had nothing to show for it, but a mother and two sisters who were torturing themselves to keep a dwindling herd of starving horses on their feet.

The military then came into the picture. Awlee was forced to go, even though there was no able bodied man to remain at the farm. Instead of steering from the idea, it was the best option at the moment. He was given a job and paid for it. Every coin he could send after buying what little he could for himself to survive on, went to his mother and two sisters. That was only enough to prolong a dreadful life in the dunes. Soon the horses fell, his mother and oldest sister had beaten themselves almost worthless, and his younger sister could do nothing more, but to leave, on money their mother had saved from Awlee. She moved to Irrakam, while his mother finally died and his oldest sister a few days afterwards.

“A grain of salt, eh? I don’t know about you, Awlee, but when was the last time you had a meal with salt?” One of the Wyvern soldiers said.

The soldier was Armonis, a younger man than Awlee, but quite smart in what he had to say when he said it. He was loud and wild, but no better at what he did. The soldier was a scout in the Wyvern, but was once a hunter. He never had much to say about himself, especially his past, even when asked. He would say more than his own worth to anyone else, however. The pretty boy had a way with words, a bow, and women. All his flaw, but his ace as well.

“Get some sleep.” Awlee grumbled as he grabbed his gear and headed to the quarters.

The soldiers had followed their acting commander, all but Armonis and another soldier, another scout, who was never far behind the other. They lingered there under the dimming sky for a moment as they watched what men had been selected for the first posts head out. Quietly, they simply slipped farther from the farm and deeper into the night as they normally did. It was common for them to always drift from the pack and to never leave from underneath the skies of Fallien.

[Caysim Winters]

The Wyvern of Fallien

The next morning came quick on the Ner’Tak Ranch for the Wyvern. Their shifts had rotated through the night with no problem at all. This was considered easy tasks for the trained unit. Among the five soldiers that had served the last shift, the one that was on post for the morning sun, was Awlee, who waited there in the yard to get a full count of the other men, who had all returned safely from their posts. After counting the heads to a full count, he simply dismissed them to their racks with no other relief coming. The day was much easier, and he felt that they needed to all have some time to rest.

“Chi?” Armonis said as he came walking up form behind Awlee.

“Yes…” Awlee said with a rough voice as he looked over to his side and grabbed the warm cup of tea from his friend.

“How do you think they’re doing?” Armonis asked as the two men stared at the Zaileya Mountains breaking the horizon of the flat dunes form a distance.

Awlee smirked at the question. There was no doubt in his mind that they were performing how they should have been. He admired Caysim, that was one of the reasons he had come in search of the supposed legend to begin with. It was a very long search, but it had taken him from Irrakam, where he had been working in warehouses for outlander merchants. It was his curiosity that had dragged him from the streets of the large city. The stories that were told were wild, and possibly anything, but true. To his surprise, though, Caysim had lived, for the most part, up to a reputation that he had been labeled with. To an odder mystery, Caysim was just as human as the next man.

“Have you ever seen the Zaileya, Awlee?” Armonis asked then, not sharing the smile of his friend.

“They are a dangerous place, especially for more than one man. I would hardly skim the outskirts alone. There’s no way I would carry any others to cause more problems…” Armonis said with a stern voice.

Awlee brought the small cup to his lips. He took a sip from it, but then lowered it slightly to keep it there. The clay of the cup still touched his lips, but the tea did not. Under the steam created by the dissolving cool air and the warmth of the liquid, his expression was attentive. He had been alongside Armonis just shortly after he had join the Wyvern, which had been a decent time, compared to most soldiers in the unit. Never once was an actual story told by the scout, but bits and pieces had been thrown about here and there. Now, another had, and Awlee couldn’t help, but wonder why Armonis was patrolling the Zaileya at one point, and alone. That was all he could do, however, because Armonis would never go any farther.

“They’ll be fine, Armonis.” Awlee grumbled as he took another sip.

[SandStorm]

The Wyvern of Fallien

"Euclid!" Marcus shouted to his cousin, who was at the moment nowhere in sight.

From the other side of the house came a reply in Fallien. Marcus, not being completely fluent in the languages of Fallien, ignored the retort and started making his way towards where he figured Euclid to be.

"Euclid! Where the heck are you?" Marcus called down the eastern hallway of Ner'Tak mansion.

"I'm changing, give me a moment." Euclid's spoke up, his voice coming from a door near the end of the hall.

"Well when you're done come outside. I've got plans for today." Marcus said in a mischievous tone, his last sentence muffled by the red bandanna he pulled up from his neck to mask his nose and mouth.

Euclid knew his cousin was up to something from the drop. The fact that Marcus was even up before noon was a definite sign to the brute that he'd be needing to dress in full battle rattle and be ready for whatever trouble was ahead of him. He didn't mind it though. He just liked being able to spend time with his naturally wild and outspoken cousin, but he wasn't about to let Marcus know that.

"Augh," Euclid moaned behind his closed door. "Alright Marcus, I'll join you in the minute."

Marcus didn't hear his cousins reply because he had already made his way back down the hallway and out the front door. Like a kid lost in a candy store he ran, carefree, towards the Wyvern who sat by the guest quarters, partaking in a morning drink.

"Hey there!" He said in common tongue as he met the disapproving eyes of the man named Arminos. "So, for this morning's patrol I was thinking my cousin and I could tag along."

Marcus' words came out muffled from the red bandanna that looped his chin, his voice held a heavy tone of seriousness. He didn't much care if the Wyvern liked it or not, he was going on that patrol.

[Caysim Winters]

The Wyvern of Fallien

Armonis cocked his eyebrow as he looked over to the side. He saw the pampered boy from yesterday come running towards him and Awlee, who was still quiet and happily drinking his tea. He turned back to the large wall of a man with a playful look in his eyes and a smirk that was full of false happiness. His cheek planted itself on the palm of his hand while the arm attached was resting on his knee. His eyes stared at Awlee until it finally got the brutes attention, annoyingly.

“What?” Awlee said as he brought the clay cup down after finally giving in to his friends glare.

“The kid that we are here babysitting is coming. Look sharp!” Armonis said with a joking tone.

“Hey there!” Marcus yelled out right before he reached the two men.

“So…for this mornings patrol, I was thinking that me and my cousin could tag along.” Marcus said then.

Armonis did not hesitate in his seat at all when the boy had come up to them. The warrior jumped to his feet and stood straight. As he brought one foot next to the other, the heels of his boots snapped together. His left arm was held tight along his side, while his right made its way to his forehead. Once his hand got within the corner of his eye, his fingers extended to barely graze his skin there on the temple of his skull.

“Good morning, m'lord!” Armonis said in a loud and crisp tone before releasing his salute.

Awlee nearly gagged on his tea watching Armonis spastically performing a sarcastic gesture of a salute. Even though the posture and stance was nearly flawless, it could be read from toe to nose by Awlee, knowing Armonis, that it was a horrible joke. After watching his friend finally sit down on his stool, the large man could finally swallow his drink properly.

“Excuse…never mind…there really aren’t any excuses for Armonis.” Awlee said as he stood to his feet from his own stool and setting the clay cup on the seat of the chair.

“I’m sorry, Marcus, but, we pulled shift all throughout the night and just recently pulled in. They will be resting until the hotter hours. There will be no patrol right now.” Awlee said sternly.

Awlee was serious in his words. Morale was something that he believed heavily in. No sleep and long hours killed morale quickly. On cake walk jobs, such as this one, it was always better to be more relax with the men who served under him. When actual mission would come up, the soldiers of the Wyvern would be tested without any limitation on can do’s. One could not say no, and knowing this, he had found out that if the men were treated fairly now, then they will perform loyally when actually needed.

[SandStorm]

Marcus ignored Awlee's words for the most part, as the thoughts of partaking in a morning patrol he had prior to approaching the Wyvern quickly washed away by the sarcastic display put on by the hulk's underling. It really didn't surprise the pampered young man that he was openly mocked by Armonis. He had been mocked all his life, often marked by his peers as a spoiled brat. In reality, that was why he had gotten into fencing and fighting at a young age. To prove himself to the people who judged him by the pampered aura that radiated from his every movement.

As Awlee finished what he had to say Marcus looked to Armonis a blank stare. "You there, what is your name?"

To which the warrior simply replied, "Armonis."

"Well Armonis, I don't know what I've done to provoke you into openly making a mockery of me." Marcus' voice transformed from it's regular, playful tone, into something far more menacing. "In fact, the only thing I can really think of to respond to that little show you just put on is..."

"Fuck you." Marcus finished his sentence in a form of butchered Fallien, accompanied by him spitting on the ground just inches from Armonis' feet.

As Marcus began his verbal assault, the familiar shape of his cousin begin to emerge from the patio of Ner'Tak Mansion. It seemed that the man was already alerted of what kind of trouble his cousin was about to cause, because he was running to the men with a sense urgency.

"Marcus!" Euclid yelled, still a couple hundred feet from the escalating situation.

If the young and stubborn Marcus Ner'Tak was good at one thing, it would be making a situation worse. Before his cousin could reach them, Marcus was already removing his blade from the sheathe that sat snugly on his hip.

"So what do you say, Armonis? Got something to prove to the spoiled Outlander?" Marcus' words were spiteful and rage-induced. "Lets see what your made of."

[Caysim Winters]

The Wyvern of Fallien

As Marcus Ner’Tak started in on his rant of bickering with Armonis, the soldier could do nothing, but lean back on his stool. His arms came up and bent behind his head and his handed entangled themselves behind the back of his head. The boots slid a heel of sand up underneath the as they made their way out to finally stretch and cross. His position was so relaxed and without alert as the boy continued with his speech. To top this open gesture of not caring one bit what Marcus had to say, he topped it all off with a smile from behind his light brown eyes.

“Lets see what you are made of!” Marcus finally said, ending his verbal assault.

Armonis didn’t quite move for a few seconds after that. He just stared at the boy with a smile. His expression never once changed. His smile did not twitch one but and his eyes never once fluttered with the hand movements thrown around by the Fallien brat. The body of the soldier was just as relaxed as if he was spending time in an Irrakam pub in front of the nightly dancers

Awlee, still standing had been watching the Wyvern scout through all of this. His eyes had only left twice, and that was when Marcus had started in on the warrior and when Euclid had shouted when he was coming towards all of them. The entire rest of the time, they remained fixed on his friend. To his surprise, Armonis had done nothing. Through a lot of their adventures, whether it was in the wild against giant scorpions, or in some Oasis pub, the young warrior had always been brash and was prone to striking out with something in his arsenal without even the flinch of a whim. This frightened the Wyvern immensely.

“Fine.” Armonis said calmly.

“No.” Awlee said instantly after Armonis replied.

Armonis took no heed to what Awlee had said. The soldier knew what it meant to be called out. They were Wyvern, they weren’t ever called out and left a nugatory response. Even within the ranks of the unit, if one warrior had issues with another, they were to fight it out. There were always the stipulations of it being non-lethal, but that was amongst brother. Marcus was no brother to the scout. He was an annoyance, another paycheck, a fool who thought he possessed the balls to step up on an unknown target with ignorant confidence.

The warrior just smiled…

Armonis leaned forward and with his gloved hands, he picked up some sand. The sand was then rubbed between his hands for a moment as he sat there and pondered for a bit. A sigh left his mouth as he got done with the sand. Loosely, he stood from his chair and walked up to the rancher boy. He showed no aggression as he did so. It was simply just slouch of a walk until he finally got face to face with Marcus.

“And the rules?” Armonis asked.

“You know the rules, Armonis. The same as if we were sparring.” Awlee demanded.

Armonis sighed once more, but complied with his large friends conditions. He walked pass Marcus gifting the boy with a shoulder bump as he did so. A few yards out, the scout simply sat on his bottom with his legs out and his arms planted on the sand. He just stared out at the horizon and waited there without giving a mention to what exactly Marcus needed to do, as well. He left that up for Awlee to explain.

“Okay, Marcus. Drop your gear. All gear. The object of this is simple, you start on the ground, and can eventually get to your feet. This fight will go until the other is can’t go no more. No weapons. As Wyvern, your only trusty weapon is yourself. That is all you need. We are the weapon and everything else is a tool.” Awlee said with a stern look.

[SandStorm]

Marcus had already managed to remove all his gear by the time Awlee finished. He also untied the red bandanna from around his face and tucked it deep within the back pocket of his denim pants. There was no backing out now, especially since the remaining Wyvern accompanied by Euclid now encircled the two men. Marcus spun, taking note that anticipation was painted amongst the faces of everyone who watched, including Euclid.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Euclid teased, while moving into place next to the slightly bulkier Awlee.

Shoulder to shoulder the two men looked a lot alike. They both wore the same lethargic, open-mouth look of bewilderment. They both had shoulder that were almost as wide as some men were tall. Instead of the rugged cowboy garbs that garnished Marcus, they both wore similar tribal clothes that revealed a little too much for Marcus' taste.

Instead of responding to his cousin's playful taunts, Marcus found his place behind his foe. As his knees dug into loose sand he noticed how scorching the ground actually was. It almost felt like he had knelled atop of a platform of upturned needles.

"Hurry up, this sand is hot," bickered the young outlander.

"Ready?" Awlee questioned but waited for no response, "start!"

Instead of instinctively jumping to his feet, like most men would do, Marcus pointed his right knee to the air, keeping firm plant of the foot beneath it, and used the other leg to turn himself. The end result was Marcus pivoting on his upward facing leg, turning to Armonis with great speed. After turning, Marcus tucked his pivoting leg to the dirt, while lifting his other leg to the sky. The motion brought him to eye-level with his opponents groin, still on one knee. Instantly Marcus wrapped his arms around the back of Arminos' knees, and tucked his head to Armonis' left hip. With a great exert of speed Marcus made an attempt to take his opponent to the sand by pushing his shoulders into the man's thighs and applying pressure behind his knees.

[Caysim Winters]

The Wyvern of Fallien

“Start!” Awlee said.

Armonis did not take long to act after he heard the brute Wyvern say the word. From behind him, he heard the shuffle of the man, but he did not worry himself too much with what the boy was doing. Instead, he acted quickly and jumped to his feet. Once he had turned around, however, the boy had made a turn himself and was already at him with a spearing motion. He felt the arms of the boy wrap around his legs, right around his knees, and then force applied from the shoulder to take him down. Armonis knew the simple tactic, and cared little for its use as far as conventional was concerned.

The Wyvern took the fall, but as he did, his right arm bent up and started to drill across the upper back to behind the boys skull. He threw the fierce elbow once with power behind it, but the short recoils afterward had just gave way to multiple shots with his elbow on the point blank target. There wasn’t many that he could gift the spoiled brat with, but there were enough to make him satisfied right before hitting the sand on his back.

Armonis lets out a grunt as he crashed against the sand. While there, though, his legs were still tied up, by the mans hold on him. He hated the idea, but it didn’t leave him absolutely defenseless. He had a pretty clear target right in front of him as the boy was right there. He just didn’t have the same area that he was attacking before, but he was good at adapting.

Punches were thrown repeatedly at the only two parts that Armonis could reach. He changed them up from the top of Marcus’ skull and to the higher portion of the side of his head. Most of his strikes were there at the side, because of the vulnerability of the thin temple in almost any humans skull. As his right hand pummeled into the boy, his left hand latched onto his opponents face. The fingers were spread open for grip, but the thumb was what he wanted.

Armonis worked his thumb underneath the cartel ridge of Marcus’ nose. There was a tender pressure point there. Once slipped, his thumb just forced its way up so that pressure was applied right there at the bottom of the boys nose. He held it there in hopes of guiding the face upward so that the Marcus was facing him, while straddling his legs. Once he had enough clearence, his thumb then slipped right on by one nostril to the closest nostril of the inside of his grip. With a push from his muscles, Armonis attempted in jabbing his thumb straight up the canal of the ranchers nose without ever having any intention on stopping. He was going to shove the thumb as far into that nostril as possible while pushing against his face, forcing his neck to bend backwards. All the while, his right arm continually swung his fist at anything he could reach on the boys head.

The thumb would either be realized as a threat, or Armonis was going to find a brain, giving the benefit of the doubt, that the opponent actually had one to begin with…

[Caysim Winters]

The Gnoll

Caysim swung violently with his sword. It was a horizontal slash out to the creatures that were surrounding him slowly. The fight had been going on for minutes by then. It had been an ambush sprung by one of his own soldiers being used as bait. There was no telling what they were. Caysim had never seen or heard anything about such creatures before. These tall dog like humanoids had come from burrows in the rock of the mountains with primitive weapons and ruthless tactics. They were swift and brutal. Their numbers were overwhelming to the last three Wyvern of the team.

A loud bark let out as force was applied with a quick, blunt strike to the back of Caysim’s leg. The impact caused his knee to buckle and slam on the ground. Kneeling there, his arm released the shield in his one arm. Once his grip had loosened on the handle of the large metallic shield, his other arm released his sword. His other arm snatched it out of the air and with a fluid like motion, it was slung out at another one of the creatures making a swift pass by him.

Once Caysim swung his sword, his fatigue was getting to him. His body collapsed from his own momentum he had put into the attack. Now he was there on the ground. His knees were planted on the hard surface of the rough terrain, and so were the bottoms of his hands. From all fours, he scanned over the area, looking through eyes of what seemed to be that of someone who was defeated.

The eyes darted over to see Jacobi held there amongst the doggish humanoids. He was hoisted up by two, possibly three, while more pounced on him, stripping him of his weapons. He tussled back and forth, but was over powered easily by there steep numbers. Caysim looked away to see Faraq, but while he did so, Jacobi was restrained by force and shackles.

Faraq had already been beaten and taken by the time Caysim directed his attention to his comrade. The man was on the ground, face first. His weapons and most of his armor had been taken from him. He seemed unconscious, because he moved none, but then again, his dear friend, the other Wyvern, laid in the same fashion, dead. Caysim could only hope for the best, as he prayed that Faraq did not meet the same fate.

The battlefield got quiet then. Caysim remained in his same position listening to all of the noise just come to a stop. From the corners of his eyes, he could see the paws of the Gnoll warriors surround him slowly. They had not yet taken this victory, because Caysim still remained with any capability in resisting. He was their last obstacle. A loud bark broke the silence, however, and followed by that was a swift blow to the back of Cayims head.

Then just black…

[SandStorm]

The Wyvern of Fallien

The fight could go either way at this point. While Marcus had managed to quickly take down his veteran foe, obtaining dominate positioning in the process, but he had also briefly left his entire upper body open for the barrage of hammers that were Armonis' fists and elbows. Although the mercenary was doing a good job at using every weapon he had at his disposal and also at displaying he was the scrappier combatant, he wasn't doing much to better his position.

That was, however, until he lodged his thumb into Marcus' naval. It didn't really hit the young rancher what his foe was doing at first, but once the fat finger forced it's way up near Marcus' eye he let out a panicked grunt. All the while punches still rained down on the back of his head.

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT. Marcus thought as he tried to wiggle Armonis' meaty hand from his face.

Five punches and a skull-pounding migraine later Marcus managed to pry the mercenary's palm away. The thumb must have managed to cut the soft tissue within Macus' naval, because as it left his nose it brought a stream of crimson muck with it.

"Augh." Marcus exhaled hard, blowing a glob of bloody ooze from his lips into Armonis' face.

Marcus was now beyond pissed. He didn't realize that when Awlee said "no holds bar," that he actually meant it. The young outlander concluded that it would now be time to use some dirty tricks of his own, starting by extending his right leg as far behind him in the air as he could, and then with as much speed and strength as he could muster, launched his knee into the soft spot that rested between every mans legs. He followed it by another knee, and another, each one harder than the last, all the while still receiving unwanted hits to the face by his opponent.

As a defense to the mercenary's punches, Marcus tucked his head into Armonis' chest, and followed up with more knees to the mans taint.

"So who do you got your gold on?" Euclid spoke from the side of his mouth to the ever-watchful Awlee, who hadn't said so much as a peep since the brawl erupted.

[Caysim Winters]

The Wyvern of Fallien

“So…who do you got your gold on?” Euclid asked the large Wyvern.

Awlee couldn’t help, but to smile at the question. He watched as Armonis had hammered blow after blow on Marcus. He shrugged at first, not wanting to choose sides between his contractor and his brother. Then he couldn’t help but see his brotherhood come out, not only in him, but in the others who had come aware of the scuffle outside. His turn allowed him to see the other soldiers, partly dressed come out of the quarters and circle up around the two fighting. It thrilled the large Wyvern to see the cheers for Armonis. It was a sign of bond.

“Armonis, of course.” Awlee said blankly as he continued to watch the fight.

The boy had taken the punches from Armonis as he tossed each one. The spoiled brat had been hurt, but not defeated. His leg had made its way back and then straight between Armonis’ legs. The strike delivered a shock of pain from right above his tail bone. He let out a groan at the strike as the pain shot through him. The shock of the attack forced his leg to slide inward in some way to protect himself. All this did, however, was direct the attacks to his shin and surrounding areas. Painful, but more tolerable than a knee to his asshole.

Now that Marcus had slid up, Armonis couldn’t get any good hits at full force on the top of his skull any longer. He needed to revise, but saw the perfect opportunity. He quickly changed his assault with his swinging arm and moved the destination of his punches to the boy’s lower back. He aimed for the kidneys with hammer fisted blows. He would raise his arm and come down with the bottom of his fist on the soft spot of the back. Body shots were less stunning at most spots, but this brute force would make Marcus loosen up, squirm, or he’ll be pissing blood for weeks.

With Armonis’ other arm out of the face of Marcus’, he had to think of something. The boys face was tucked into his chest. He was close, real close. The brat had failed to take the half mount, so Armonis still felt in power. That was when he made his move. His arm made its way under his neck as he tried to lean up. His other arm then ceased with the punches to the kidney so that he could double his hold from the other side. The leg that had taken a beating swung out quickly, to be followed by his other leg, and they hoisted themselves up so they could wrap around Marcus’ torso. The boot covered feet then crossed and his legs, with the leverage squeezed together. Armonis’ back arched then as he jerked his hold around the neck. It was hopes in strangling the boy into submission through loss of air from lungs and throat.

[Bellator Magus]

The location was Katahkir. Or, more precisely, it was called the Ruins of Katahkir. But Bellator wasn’t much for caring about it being “ruins” or anything that could relate to that phrase. In fact, the entire city appeared pleasant enough to the apprentice mage; the sprawling towers and ancient, snow-covered mountains to the west, the slowly rising Sun glinting against the icy faux foliage throwing off all the colors of the rainbow and warming up the young teen despite the weather – it all combined gave a feeling of endless possibilities; of never ending growing horizons; of the true expanse of time and space; and of how no matter what, the possibilities of the world are endless – if you know the right way to enter the world, that is.

Suddenly, a blast of cool air sliced through the dawn air, forcing Bell to visibly shake. But he was glad for it, because he’d almost started to think about it. Anything that’s too happy or carefree and he suddenly remembers, how it had happened. Unbidden, a sudden image clashed across the canvas of his mind, tearing apart any vision he’d pretended to have a moment before, bringing him to the only moment in his life that ever mattered. It didn’t make sense, but it still messed with his mind, even two years later.

A darkened forest floor, cleared apart, lay before him. It seemed to have a void in the center of it, but no; it was a hole, he’d dug, the biting nip of irony slowly bleeding him to death. Bell felt faint as he turned to the left, and dropped a small shovel, dark with something that he kept telling himself over and over was dirt. It wasn’t anything else, he said, nothing but dirt, and that was all there would ever be, because the blood lay on his hands, rather than any instrument he may wield – he alone was guilty of it, of the murder, of the brutal, vicious murder.

A body lay to the right of it, but it wasn’t the man he’d killed; no it was his father. But that made no sense. He’d taken the body he’d killed, hadn’t he? But his father stared sightlessly back at him, a small smile on his face, almost a slap to the face of the boy who’d loved his father so. A look of rage contorted his face, and he slashed downward, a blade whistling through the air, conjured seemingly from nowhere.

There was a mournful screech that forced him back to reality. He looked up and saw a small bird fly away. He tightened the cloak to him and shook his head, trying to clear the residual images from him, and touched the small mark on the back of his neck. He’d always thought it was a birthmark, but he’d asked someone to draw it for him once, and they had; when the man had finished, he looked down blankly at a sheet of canvas showing what clearly wasn’t a birthmark; the tattoo on it depicted a wide, crystalline jade accented eyeball.

It looked back with an almost living quality, seemingly taking in everything around it like a black hole, committing all to memory. Which it did. It was a Memory Rune, Bell immediately realized. One of the most powerful in existence. Someone had placed this on him and forced him to either forget memories, or replaced them under a glamour with new memories. And he felt that scene that kept replaying in his mind, that short, cut scene, was a mistake.

It was a glitch that he could see through, and recognize as a false memory. Or perhaps it was actually the real memory poking out. A frown crossed his face, and he slowly rubbed his neck, watching the sun rise. He stepped forward, towards the mountains. The day before, he’d heard a quite ungodly amount of noise coming from the overgrown hills and was too curious – and bored of sitting around reading – not to go find out what was going on.

He had a small leather belt around his cloak, where he had a book tied to his waist, titled, Book of the Runic. Within it were hundreds of Runes, that did all sorts of things by simply placing the item’s true Runic shape upon an object and invoking its power.

Of course, it wasn’t that easy at all, but he stopped thinking about that for a moment to make sure he had his bow and arrow with him. He was sure he would need it; the force had sounded aggressive, and they were almost a full day’s march ahead of him. It would take him a long time to catch up. A long, shuddery sigh broke the smooth air waves, and then the first step was taken, crunching into the soft icy slush.

“Come on, Roon.” He called out to his familiar, a small, dog that bounded over to him and leaped into Bell’s arms, wagging his tail happily. The fur got all in the way and Bell had to spit to keep from choking, but was laughing, and so was the dog.

“Where are we headed?” he asked.

“Not sure yet,” Bell said. “I remember seeing smoke the other day, and I’m curious to see what’s going on. It’s been too long here anyway; time to move on.”

The Familiar started to argue, but saw the glint in Bell’s eye and knew it was futile. He touched the small pendant around his neck and murmured a small prayer that nothing happened. Yeah. Right. With that, he let Bell lead him onward down the mountainside, to whatever hellish things awaited.
~~~
“You are the embodiment of the information you choose to accept and act upon. To change your circumstances you need to change your thinking and subsequent actions.”

[Caysim Winters]

The Gnoll

Caysims eyes opened slowly. When his vision had finally come into play after a sequence of fluttered blinks and the blurriness of blackness transitioning into clarity, he saw his bare feet leading up his legs that were covered with tattered clothing. His hands were resting on his lap, but were uncomfortably being restrained by enormous iron shackles that were locked around his wrists. As he tried to move his hands, he could tell the weight and make of them were quite primitive.

“Where…” Caysim muttered.

Caysim couldn’t finish his sentence before receiving a loud ringing noise buzzing between his ears. His hand came up to rub his brow for some sort of comforting gesture. When one hand has moved the other had been yanked up causing a strain in his muscles from his fatigue and weight of the shackles. The sound of the chain made a clinking noise as he did so. Each muscle that worked to accomplish that simple movement ached in pain, while he sat there.

Where the hell am I?

The Wyvern’s eyes looked around the area that he had found himself in. That was when the realization of everything that had happened played back through him clearing mind. After catching up to himself, he remembered that he had been captured by the beats in the Zaileya. That thought had sent him body into a frantic state that caused him to jump to his knees and grab the bone made bars of his cell. The noise between him shaking the imprisonment and the dangling chain of his cuffs had made just enough commotion to stir his fellow soldiers up.

“Caysim!” Caysim!” A voice whispered.

Caysim stopped his attempt to break free slowly. He turned his head after hearing the voice that was calling out to him. There was much room to move around in, the cell was small, perhaps only a few feet. He tried to move as close as he could to the direction of the voice. His sight could not go much farther from his cell, however, so his ears was all he had available to him.

“What?” Caysim asked.

“Caysim!” The voice whispered again.

The voice had come to Caysim quite clearly then. Though the shadows of enormous cavern room concealed the mans face and location, it could not clous his voice. The man who was speaking to Caysim was none other than Jacobi Runewinger, his second in command and dear friend. The voice was hard to forget. The boy had been with Caysim nearly all his life.

“Jacobi! Where the hell are we?” Caysim asked with a whispered tone.

“I don’t know, boss. I was knocked across the head until I blacked out on the way here. Did you see those things? I had gotten enough for my own content just fighting them. One checked on me and Faraq earlier. They are some ugly bastards!” Jacobi said.

Caysim turned around in his cell. He slid downward to a sitting position against the bars. He smiled at Jacobi talking to him. He was thrilled to know that his friend had made it from that ambush alive. He also smiled at how he could almost see Jacobi smiling in his own cell as he spoke. The warrior could always take things so care free. They were caught and imprisoned by some creatures that jackals on two legs, the fangs, claws and all, but there he was cracking a joke on how ugly they were. It was a characteristic that were both annoying and relieving.

“So, Faraq is still alive, huh?” Caysim asked while he fiddled with his bonds.

“Yeah. He‘s a cell down from me. They‘re keeping us pretty separated.” Jacobi said.

“So we can manage some way of getting out of this then?” Caysim asked, hoping that there was some idea already being formulated.

“Well, I’m sure there is, boss, but we were hoping you had something in mind.” Jacobi whispered with a slight laugh in his voice.

Great…

Caysim fondled the shackles for a bit longer, but then gave up. His slumped there in his cell as he stared at the bulky items that were locked around his wrists. They were still uncomfortable, they were still heavy, and they were still locked. Things weren’t quite looking up for him and his comrades. He thought about how it could have been worst, but then shook the ideas out of his head. The images of how things could be just weren’t that relaxing to him at the moment.

“Alright…we’re getting out of here.” Caysim whispered.

As soon as Caysim had returned with his response, a noise could be heard. It was the yapping between some creatures who were making their way through the cavern towards him. He heard them bark amongst one another as if they had been arguing. The closer they had gotten, however, Caysim tried not to look as if he was listening. Instead, he leaned on the far side of his cell and pretended as if he had been sleeping.

[Caysim Winters]

The Gnoll

The two enormous Gnolls that made their way into the cavern, yapping between one another, stopped a few feet from where Caysim’s cell was sitting. The warrior couldn’t figure out what was happening as the two of the creatures went silent. He looked up to narrow his eyes as he tried to see through the darkness. It was all futile, however. He couldn’t see anything in the blackness of the room. He didn’t need to see, though, as he felt a sudden jerk on his cell. After that initial jerk, he felt another, which led into his imprisonment being dragged across the harsh floor of the cavern. He, and the others were being dragged by the monsters!

Where are they actually taken us?

Caysim didn’t have to wonder for long as he saw the light up ahead from the outside. He turned to his right to see that three other cells had been moved almost right up next to his own. The light that they were getting closer to let Caysim see everything, once after blinding him from the not yet used to sun. He could see the rope that was dragging them all, and the others cells, and finally he could see Jacobi, who was in the closest cell to him.

The cells were finally brought out of the cavern and across sand. Caysim and the others found themselves, trying to stand on the bottom bars of bone to keep from rubbing across the grains as they went. It was hot now, and the sun was beaming downward on the four Wyvern. Caysim couldn’t believe how much he was actually welcoming the heat of the Fallien sky. It was odd, but welcomed, none the less. The cavern was so cool and dark. The Fallien much preferred this over that hole any day.

“You think they’re letting us go?” Faraq shouted above the grinding noise of the cages meeting the terrain.

“Are you serious?” Jacobi asked with a shout of his own while smiling.

The cages finally stopped moving then. The Gnolls that had been pulling them had released the ropes from their paw like hands. With no other noise made, they walked from where they stood. They had made their way to opposite sides of the round shaped area. Once reaching the walls, they climbed up, to meet with other Gnolls who were sitting behind the high standing wall and observed from their what looked liked stands into the area that they were now sitting in, which heavily resembled an arena.

“I think they are freeing us…” Caysim said with a low tone.

Caysim scanned the area. They were there inside a large pit that was surrounded by a walls in the shape of a circle. The walls were high, more than ten feet for sure. It was obvious that this was a ring. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but the cage felt like a pretty safe spot at the moment. The eerie feeling that was coming over him didn’t feel right. He felt as if he was some sort of sport of sorts, and it wasn’t far from the truth at all.

Two Gnolls from the other side of the area started moving about. They walked their way in front of a large door. From each side of the stone door, they gripped on to the handles of some contraptions. Their arms started moving as they started turning these levers. The chains that were ran down into the spool, started to wind up into the center box. As all of this happened, the stone slab that made up the door slowly started to lift upward with a loud grinding noise as the slab slid along the wall. As is opened, another cave entrance could be seen, but form its dark depths a roar released itself instead of three human prisoners.

“I don’t like this, Jacobi!” Faraq yelled out as he started to shake the door to his cage.

Caysim and Jacobi nodded in agreement to their friends comment. They mimicked his act as they too leapt from their feet and tried anyway possible to force some sort of opening to escape their cages. The efforts seemed fruitless, however. They shook frantically against any loose pieces, but not progress had been made. The bones were tied together with a thick sting that had seemed to have been made of hair almost. No telling what it was and there was no time to investigate it farther. The more the door was opening, the louder the roar was getting.

That was when weapons were finally getting thrown from the surrounding seats of Gnolls who were sitting atop their great walls. Swords, shields, and spears were being tossed down, and when one of the curved bladed weapons landed not far from Caysims own cage, he realized that they were his own. The weapons being thrown in and the simultaneous roaring form the barking mutts was all the Wyvern need to see for him to understand what was actually happening.

They want us to fight!

Caysim slid across his cage to slip his leg out of it through the bars. His leg extended as far as it could with his ankle stretched out for his toes to graze the dull end of the scimitar. It wasn’t much, but that’s all he needed to start kicking his foot back and forth, causing his toes to bang against the weapon, for it to come closer towards him. It was a process that took time, but no more than needed. The sword was in his possession over the course of a few kicks with his foot and in his hand.

“We’re getting out of here!” Caysim shouted as he took the sharpened end of his blade and started to saw at the hair with pressure.

“Yeah? How about we get out of here a little quicker?” Jacobi shouted back as he waiting impatiently for Caysim to break free.

The door had finally opened. The roaring was louder than it had been. A new noise had also brought itself to the ears of the scurrying prisoners held within their cells. The noise was a thud. It was a heavy thud that came every second or two. The force within the thundering steps caused even the cages to rattle with noise. Then it became apparent what was the cause of all of it as a giant emerged from the opening with one lat roar before looking down upon the three Wyvern within their cages through its one central located eye.

“Caysim!” Jacobi shouted as he turned to his leader.

[Caysim Winters]

The Gnoll

Caysim was no where to be found as Jacobi looked toward the cage that his leader should have been in. The door to the cell had been cut loose, and no just dangled there from its threaded hinges. The warriors eyes could be no wider as he spun to see the charging Cyclops headed toward him. Though they should have been filled with fear, that simply changed as the latch to his cage was released by Caysim who stood there with his sword in hand.

“You slow…!” Jacobi started to say, but then quickly cut himself short as he went rolling out of the cell and onto the arena floor out of the way of the beast that had come.

“Faraq, go!” Caysim shouted as he swung open the door to his other friends cage.

Before the Wyvern leader could think of his next move, he felt the sudden force of a backhand take its toil on his side. The beast had swung violently at Caysim, hitting him, tossing him against the wall of the arena. His body ached as he slowly picked himself up form the sandy floor. A ringing was taking over in his head as his vision was coming to. After a deep breath and a moaning sigh, he got to his feet.

The beast was enormous, possibly fourteen feet tall. Its skin was thick, but scarred form one side to the other. Its muscles were a testament of it strength. It was surprising to the warrior that he hadn’t broke anything from the attack he had taken from the monster. It was a beastly creature with roughly grown claws and nails. The fangs lining its gums were yellow and jagged. It was as ugly as it possibly sounded. That was saying a lot, because it was ugly, and the spittle filled roar it constantly gave off was quite fearsome.

“…and now?” Jacobi shouted as he made a sliding dash, acquiring a spear in his hands.

Caysim started making his way backward as the Cyclops was approaching him. He felt his back against the wall of the arena then. He couldn’t stop there, though, and started to slide against it as he started to side step. The huge beast was steadily making his way toward Caysim as the soldier was making his way away from it. His eyes stayed on the one that the monster had, which was sharing the same stare.

And now?

Caysim couldn’t think of a response to that. He had encountered beasts before. Nothing in the shape of a Cyclops, however. This was a first. The Fallien mercenary had fought the Giant Scorpions and the Harpies, but never this. He would trade almost anyone of his encounters, if not all of them, with bandits and warriors to just not be facing this monstrosity. He didn’t quite know what to do, but he was their leader and his job was to know. How could one lead in a situation like this, however? They were prisoners and forced to fight a Cyclops. Was there actually a good answer?

Caysim sprinted forward. His stride backward was no more. His knees bent and his legs slid across the sand between the beasts legs as it missed with a swing right before the Wyvern could make it. With a rolling stop, his body launched up to return to another run. This time he was behind the monster, however, and toward his friends. The Cyclops was not far from him, though, and turned to slowly pursue the soldier.

“We fight!” Caysim ordered.

“We fight?” Jacobi asked as he stood there beside Caysim.

“Yeah.” Caysim said with a certain insecurity in his voice.

“Fine! Works for me, boss.” Jacobi said to Caysim, but then smiling at Faraq, who was on his other side.

“Yeah…we fight….” Faraq said with a worried voice as he stared at the Cyclops.

[Bellator Magus]

The lower the got down the mountain, the higher the Sun appeared over them; the way it gradually increased as he decreased made him ironically wonder if he had actually been higher up than the Sun itself, and was climbing down, its most beloved child, shining golden rays from his own self, acknowledging the simplicity and beauty of such a majestic inanimate being.

As time wore on, however, these fanciful thoughts soon died and became replaced by those of discomfort and hunger. Eventually, his feet began to ache from the never ending plodding, and he could hear Roon moaning softly in his ear, begging to be fed. Finally, he decided that they could, well after midday. They could see smoke in the distance, which was the only reason. Clearly, they were close to whatever awaited, and if it was hostile, then it would be best if the pair ate well beforehand and got their strength up.

They settled down near a small spring that had been curving to and away from them since the beginning of their trip. Settling down o a medium sized boulder, the teen slipped off his shoes and dipped his feet in the water, sighing at the sudden comfort, and almost ignoring the fact that the water was ice cold despite the rabid heat outside.

After a moment, he pulled his toes back on dry land and opened up his sack. Pulling out an apple, a loaf of bread, and a small chunk of cheese, he set them all down in a pile and let Roon eat his fill. The Familiar wanted to get his absolute fill on anything he ate, so he briefly morphed into a small monkey to hold the food better.

The metamorphosis looked much less painful than imagined, of course. It was actually quite unusual in Bell’s eyes. The Familiar disappeared from existence for the briefest instant, and came back as a different animal. His longtime friend ate slowly, not wasting a morsel and soon finished it all and gave a decent sized belch to signify this.

Bell then pulled out what appeared to be a twig from his pocket. He blew on it softly, and it increased in size, becoming a great crossbow. He picked up his bow and looked back at the small furry creature, smiling. “Watch this; I’m about to catch a fish with a bow and arrow.”

“Bullshit.”

“Wanna bet?”

Roon considered his options, rubbing his chin slowly. Finally, he nodded his head towards the mage. “What are the stakes?”

Bell only smiled. “What’s the matter? Scared you’ll lose?” After that, though, he knew he’d won. The Familiar nodded. And with that, Bell turned to face the spring. He hopped onto the boulder for leverage, and angled the crossbow so it fit casually into the nook between his shoulder and neck, and gently rested on it while he used his right hand to grab an arrow, quietly and cautiously.

He fitted it into the slot, fumbling slightly from his numb fingers. Eventually, he got it to work and squinted one eye. He saw movement in the water, and stayed completely still, waiting for the movement to still, and for him to see what was down there for him to hit.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, a fish slowed down enough for him to feel blood rush to his face. He shifted ever so slightly for more comfort in his strike and waited just a few more moments. Finally, he let the arrow go; it sang for a moment, but was quickly muffled and “drowned” in the water. Everything was done perfectly, except one thing – the moment it hit the water, it changed its angle and hit the silt just two inches from the damn animal that quickly darted away.

A growling sound came from somewhere. Bell looked around for a while, but eventually Roon helped him out: “Your stomach hates you right now. Now, about that bet…” Bell faced the Familiar, who had switched back to the form of dog. It had a dumb grin on its face that made the mage slightly nervous. But he’d put this on himself; a deep inhale, and slow exhale. And he walked to the spring, grabbed his arrow and put it back into his quiver.

“What do you want?” Roon’s smile widened. Oh God.