Snow Fight

[Razor]

All around him the snow swirled in the air, the cold seemed to pierce right through to the bone, his breath froze in the air. For Razor, this was the perfect condition, it made him feel completely awake, alive. Flicking his tongue out, he smelled the air and savored it, knowing the thick cloying sent was his work, something he had created. He had been blocking them out until then, but the sounds of the dying rang through the air all about him.

It was quite a seen, around him the ankle deep snow was stained the dark red of blood, browner in the older spots, and parts of bodies lay strewn about him. He was the only thing in the area not covered in blood, a white ghost in the snow drifting among the humans and checking for signs of life, extinguished quickly, his serpentine form sliding effortlessly across the snow. They had been easy prey, a merchant caravan, and it had taken little time to dispose of them. There was tingling feeling that made him want to do it again, but it had been so easy and wasn’t proper form. No matter, he had reason for it.

One of the men had a son, a boy not ten years old accompanying them, which had worked perfectly for what he needed. Traveling across the frozen wastes, most did not think to watch for predators, least of all during the day. He blended in too well, he followed them easily, merely crouching and relying on color whenever they turned back, and he soon found his opportunity. Throughout the day the men would separate a ways to relieve their bladders, Razor had waited for the boy and struck. He had runn up and bitten down on the boy’s arm, he’d meant only to drag him a ways and make him bloody, but his arm was soft and the bone crunched between his teeth too easily, the slight tug didn’t even knock the boy over, instead the arm ripping off at the elbow. Razor kept running away, swallowed the arm, and watched them from a distance. The men quickly tended the boy’s wound, lighting a torch and charring his stump, after that they kept closer watch on each other and traveled slower, but they weren’t safe, they were never safe. A few days later when he was sure the boy would live and knew them to be approaching one the local lords or kings or whatever silly titles the humans were giving themselves, he struck again. The first man was drinking from a skin in the rear of the caravan, Razor’s mouth closed over his head and shook viciously breaking his neck before he could feel a thing, and Razor killed the rest but without as much grace, merely tearing from one to the next without making sure the job was done. He even killed the horse, and he broke one of the wheels on the cart that carried their wares, the only survivor the young boy.

Later when he was back in the town, under a human guise, he talked about it with Mira in the local church. “Why are we in a church?”

Sitting in the pew beside him, Mira had a serene look to her in her warm furs. “This is the only available place. The town has only farmers, the lord’s mansion, and the church. They brought your work through her a little while ago.” She paused for a moment, making Razor squirm a little, “You shouldn’t have done it. Humans don’t grow back arms. He was just a boy. I heard he was only eight years old.”

He knew she was studying him, seeing if he showed remorse. “He’s older than I am, he’s learned from your heroic songs and he dreams of slaying me, if he knew. I didn’t have to do it, but I’m not going to die. If it sets you at ease, think of it as self preservation, I kill my predators before they can kill me.”

Finally she turned to look at him, to see whether he was smiling and teasing her or really serious, “It’s not the same. He was a child, you are not. How do you know that I won’t slay you some day, will you plot to kill me before I can?”

She may have sounded scolding, but he knew she was only concerned because the wound was savagely done, it was the work of a mindless beast, not that he had done it. He smiled for a second, “Who says I’m not?”

For a few moments, they sat there silently. Soon people began to trickle in through the doors, not long after the room was full and the ruler of the town came in. He addressed the people easily, he was a large bellied man with a stern face and fancy clothes, well practiced at handling situations. “Gentle men and women, we have faced a great tragedy today. The Brackhark’s boy has been severely wounded, his family killed. It was a great monster that did this, and it could still be outside these walls. I must ask that you leave your fields untended for a few days time, while we send an envoy to Knife’s Edge requesting assistance. Never fear, the beast shall be killed and we shall be safe once again.”

Afterwards, the speaker stayed a few moments to talk individually with certain citizens. Some offered their condolences, others required more reassurance, and he was very sympathetic to them all, until at last only Mira remained, and Razor seated in a back pew. “You and I are not so dumb as to think that Knife’s Edge will actually send some of their guards to help you. If you want this to come to speedy conclusion, I would suggest setting up a reward for the capture of this beast. This land seems to be plagued by the innumerable mercenaries and people looking to make fast money, and they’d be in a hurry. The guards are paid by time, these people are paid for results. Just something to consider.” It made her feel a little guilty, setting her own kind up like that, but only a little.

Together, they got up and left the church, “Oh, skillfully done. Yes, I suppose that the government doesn’t really care too much for these minor lands. How long before someone comes, do you think? I can hardly wait.”

[Calaelen]

((Forgive me, I am going to set this before Terriance leaves so I am going to have pieces of armor that he would normally wear… and what he would wear before he was allowed to leave. If that is ok, I will continue on as normal. If not, than I shall be happy to edit this thread to fit better.))


~ ~ ~ Day of the attack ~ ~ ~

Indifference, it seeped from the noble faces of those gathered and nearly drowned the poor, shaking peasant. The man was slumped at the shoulders, wearing the common furs of the Salvarian peons, and clutching his hands tightly to keep them from shaking. In a semi-circle formation the few nobles and hierarchy of the wealthy merchants sat on a dais. Their eyes looked away from the cowering man; they looked for one another instead.

“Is that all you have to say?” The speaker was at the center of the crescent, his profound accent heavy with the local Salvic. His proud eyes and heavy build spoke of nobility. However, his ragged hair and ill-kept beard could have been a picture of the common peasantry. He was the local master, Lord Samuel Calaelen, the strong as they called him. A hand worked wearily at his beard as he sighed slowly. “And you saw this attack personally?”

“Ay, sir, that I did. I was walkin’ along ta road and watched as the beast flew away... he left a lotta carnage, sir.” The man’s eyes lifted just slightly, reaching the heavy Salvarian Stone Wood podium’s edge before falling again. Around the antechamber the merchants mumbled while the nobles nodded and jotted notes. It was a dire circumstance that the people were coming to. Attacks along the borders had been increasing, and it was mostly unaccounted for.

“Lord, do you believe it is those bloody Rain’tian’s again?” The man who spoke was just as large as Lord Samuel himself. His hair was a heavy red coloration, his beard streaked with different hues and spots of gray. He was the minister of defense of the Hajira land, the leader of the local militia, and the most nervous and cautious person in the land. “We could have scouts on the border in a matter of hours, and the militia called. The watch posts on the borders are only half completed, but could be finished in a matter of days.”

“Calm down,” Lord Samuel said with a small wave of his hand to the minister of defense. “You, Wiltor right? You are dismissed. See the captain outside the double doors and you will get your reward.” With the man out of the antechamber the eyes of the assembled turned towards the Lord of Hajira. “It is not the Rain’tian’s; those people are peaceful emissaries of Fallien, simple glass traders. We can cancel them out, but we should send an agent anyway to ask about their situation along the border.”

For half a minute the room was silent, then the head of the lord rose and his eyes caught those of his eldest son. “Sir Morrvor, round up the personal guard and venture to the site. Check the man’s facts before acting on them. If he is correct than please scout out the surrounding area and track the culprit down. Do us proud, we cannot accept failure for the sake of the commoners.”


~ ~ ~Church of the Sway~ ~ ~

The church is an extravagant aberration against the monotone background of the city proper. The walls are made of a smooth stone from the Blade Mountains, cleverly adorned with tapestries of the north and off-white tablets of the Sway’s prayers. Long, deep brown benches line the inside of the main room, enough room to comfortably hold most of the population. At the very head of the room is a raised pulpit of made of Coronian mahogany, the forefront of which is gilded in the crest and sign of the church.

The priest’s vestments are the common clothes of the Sway’s followers, accented with a thick fur cloak thrown off his shoulders. His hair is wispy and wind blown, obviously styled by the harsh winds of Salvar. His skin seems to be hanging, dragging off the bones, but his eyes are yet sharp and calm. Hands clasped, elbows resting on the podium, head lolling, Counciliator J’rai drawled on expertly with a carefully selected speech to the worries citizens. The counciliator is only buying time for the lord’s council to come to a decision and make their entrance.

Along the front the prominent sat. Among those was Terriance, the son of Lord Samuel, watching and waiting for the assembly to be concluded. His eyes are moving from the tired eyes of his father to the stained glass arcs behind him. His hand is wrapped tightly around the prayer beads, fingering the small symbol at its end. Slowly the congregation rose with final words of their leader, Terriance remains seated and watches the others stand slowly.

Finally the young lord rose, leaving his warm pew for the frosted wonderland. As he leaves his honey brown eyes slowly fall on an odd couple, two that he had never seen before. A question touched his lips, but quickly was silenced and he shook his head, exiting the church.

Outside his brother was waiting for him, sitting atop a large stallion. “Terriance, I was supposed to come find you. We are needed to scout out the area and find the culprits, father said to make you come along and help.”

“I will be there later,” the young man responds, “First I need to check on Jules and secure my gear. I will be there later, do not wait up for me though. I would not like to slow your mission any.” The young man flinches as the warhorse Morrvor rides snorts, casting an evil eye towards the young lord. It is a massive beast, deep black with eyes that are as intimidating as any veteran of the realm. Terriance feels uncomfortable around either.

“So be it,” his brother sighs, “but do not let this ‘slip your mind’ as the last task did. Father will not be so lenient, nor so open to an excuse.” The horse roughly turns and kicks up a brush of snow and frozen dirt. Again the boy flinches, completely unnerved by his brothers words, the situation at hand, and the rumors of the bloody mess that was made just outside the city.

“Damn it all,” the boy mumbles under his breath as he lays a head against the wall of the church.

((PM me if you have some ideas, I have one, but want to run it by you before we go through with it. If you already have ideas I would request you send them, so that I can have a semblance of the idea for the thread. Thank you.))

[Razor]

As they neared the door out of the church, Razor could hear a brief conversation. Mira bumped into his out stretched arm halting her, ignoring that he was eavesdropping purposefully. She always did that, acting like she couldn’t see or hear anything he did that didn’t mesh with her moral fibers, stretched as they may be.

Once the conversation was over, he was a little bit disappointed. “Did you hear? They’re forming a mission. A mission. Not an envoy, they think they can handle this. How did they come to the conclusion they could do this on their own? Why does logic escape your kind so?”

Mira’s eye twitched, as it always did when he said something about her kind. How many times must she prove she is not of them, that she does not think nor act like them? “Why wouldn’t they think that? They don’t know what happened, they are hot-blooded, and you behaved like a savage.”

Her scathing reproach was not unexpected. It must have been that kid, whenever children came into it she was that way. For a long time Razor held suspicions that she had some childhood memory that made her sympathize with them. It wasn’t normally a big deal, but she seemed to infect his enjoyment of everything. She was just a kind of companion, the kind that carried luggage and dealt with tedious problems and she shouldn’t have been able to affect him, but she did. “I suppose you’re still upset over the boy. Would you prefer I killed him instead of leaving him orphaned and damaged? If you’re still concerned, I’ll gladly put your mind at ease.”

Her eye twitched again, but this time she held her tongue. His cruel smile and the way his tongue slipped out between his lips spoke his intent well enough. She knew if she said anything further the town would find a few bloody remains and some choice parts that didn’t sit well in Razor’s stomach, but it didn’t stop her from staring daggers at him.

“Let’s go over by the gate. If they’re really going on their own, I won’t have to track them down. It’s easy enough, the horses have quite a scent. Last time had to eat little boys just to get rid of the taste…” He grinned crookedly, a cruel jape and he took pleasure in it. She would be angry for a while, maybe an hour, but then she’d come around and it would still have been worth it. These human towns always set her on edge, made her humorless, made her unpleasant. For that, he would feel no remorse killing them, if he ever could have.

The rest of the time passed in silence, seemly unbearable silence as Mira glowered at him from the corner of his vision and he paced back and forth by the gate. Why humans took so long to go out was unknown, but it angered him, the time and the unknowing. For this sort of thing they would need armor and weapons, and probably a horse. Mira pulled up her thick artic coats, many of them formerly the skin of wolves, so the mission goers were probably also finding their warm skins too. Inside the town the walls and buildings broke the wind and they had sorceries set to further weaken the winter, but outside it was a frozen and bitter land where the cold stuck to bones. Outside was where he belonged, not suffocating in the artificial and unnatural summer inside. “What’s taking so long?”

[Ashiakin]

Please contact me (or a regions mod) if you would like this opened.