Erion dar Saben

[Riordan dar Faile]

"You want me to track down Erion dar Saben?" Even she could hear the slight rise to the inflection of her tone.

"Unless you think it is beyond your capabilities." Came a measured and even response.

Riordan felt her back snap and tighten, like a whip breaking the air. She looked down at Cahir as he dipped pen in ink and continued writing, like she were not there, like she had not spoken at all. Her capabilities were not in question here, Erion's were. The man had years on her, decades really, and most of them he had spent training. Giving her this mission seemed like utter suicide, even if every fibre within her scarred being, and every scale upon her body, itched for the chance to do it. Demanded that she prove her worth and her honour to the one man seemingly oblivious to all her accomplishments.

Taking a deep breath, and weighing her words carefully, Riordan stared down at the man who had rescued her from the slums, and a sure death and spoke. "My capabilities are not the issue at hand. You wish me to track down a traitor of far superior skill than I, by myself?"

The annoying sound of pen scratching against heavy parchment stalled and Riordan noticed the word on the paper not even finished. She cursed inside her head, knowing she'd made a mistake there, one that may cost her this grand opportunity.

"No." His voice was deep and resounding, and often times comforting, though now was not one of them. "I expect you to take your assigned mission and do it. You'll be joined by Faolan dar Allister and a few others whom have accepted the mission."

Her mouth pulled down in a frown, but she wisely said nothing as his coal black eyes racked her from the crown of her horns, over the embroidered forest green vest and plain brown pants, to the leather of her sandals, suppressing the shiver of foreboding that ignited from that cold stare.

When she made no sounds of protest, he shifted in his hard, wooden seat and placed his elbows upon the deep red wood of the desk, the emerald colour of his scales reflecting the blue glow of several crystals stacked throughout the room. She watched him carefully as he steepled his fingers under his chin, the sound of his claws clicking together the only noise aside from their breathing. She tried hard not to look away from that unwavering stare. She tried not to look at the wooden floor, scuffed by claws and boots alike, or the sparse walls, decorated with nothing but time and not even the barest speck of dust. She tried, she didn't know if she succeeded.

Eventually, she broke that silence. "Who are the other warriors?"

He waved his hand dismissively and her stomach tightened. "Just some others that accepted the bounty posted by Darroch. Remember," he looked at her pointedly, "this has been made public. You will not be the only ones searching for Erion dar Saben, and considering the pretty sum his head is worth, I suspect you'll have quite the lot to contend with."

"Understood." She really wanted to throw the mission back in his draconic face and tell him to go eat scrael, but she refrained. Cahir had saved her after all, he deserved more than harsh words.

He looked at her a long moment before his eyes wandered to the papers scattered across his desk. "Do you need a description of him?"

"No, I have met Erion before." Only a few short years ago, when she'd first been assigned to Cahir's platoon, Erion had been one of the higher ranking warriors within the unit. She'd had the good fortune to be assigned to him for border patrol and had personally fought alongside him during a couple skirmishes. She had learned much from the man, before honour became lost to him. "A description of his fighting capabilities would be useful. It has been a few years since I have seen him dance."

"Right." Cahir shuffled some of the paperwork and passed her over a few sheets. Her black eyes swept across the pages quickly, noting several notations made by his hand personally, before she tucked it away into the pouch on her hip. "Anything else?"

"Meeting time and place?"

"Suthainn Proper at mid day. Faolan has already been informed and will meet you there with the bounty hunters."

She nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Inclining her head slightly, Riordan turned around in the cramped office and headed for the door.

"Rory."

She stopped and turned back slightly, noting the softer expression lining Cahir's face.

"Come back alive."

Snorting, the young Drakeling left the office to prepare.

*~*

Riordan closed the front door on the outside world. Immediately silence enveloped her. The kind of silence that spoke to you and whispered, saying no one had been here for some time. It had crept out from the shadows that lingered in the corners and leeched itself into the very wood and fabric of this place, making her feel awkward, like an unwanted presence; an intruder.

Pushing the sensation aside, she moved from the small front hall into a quaint living area, the soft noise her sandals made swallowed by that silence. Erion dar Saben lived a spartan life, though from what she knew of him, this was not overly surprising. His living area held a large shelf covered in books and a few crystal figurines. The books themselves were mainly tomes on history, war strategy and biographies of famous Drakeling's, even with a few Fae added to the mix. A table lay in the middle of it, immaculate, with not the slightest scratch on it's surface. A couple large windows let the light in, potted plants basking in that golden glow. The only extravagance was a large, overstuffed chair that sat between a fireplace and the shelf, a small table with a book beside it. She glanced down at the title, then rifled through the pages and found nothing.

Frowning, she left and headed into the kitchen, doing a cursory check of the area and finding nothing, before slipping into the bedroom.

The room itself held very little furniture; a bed, a desk, an armoire and a night stand. A basket in the corner held his dirty clothes. She went through that first and found nothing, then the night stand, bed and armoire. They all turned up the usual assortment of items. She'd purposefully left the desk for last. The top of it was covered in letters, military reports, political reports and a list of new recruits wishing to join his unit. Nothing seemed out of ordinary. There were correspondence letters between him and a friend in Donnalaich, that amounted to nothing of significance. Other letters between friends around Suthainn and beyond. Nothing really seemed to catch her eye, though the name on the correspondence from Donnalaich seemed familiar. Why, she didn't know. Riordan knew very few people in the Fae city.

Glancing outside, she noted that the sun was almost at it's zenith in the sky. She'd have to move quickly else risk being late. With one last look about the room, she turned and left, leaving the silence to continue it's work.

[BlueEvilGhostofSeaside]

Stepping across another rope-tired bridge, Dawn Ivy FlameShadow growled. She knew she was close to the rally point, so why was she feeling so discouraged? It wasn't like Dawn to feel this down... It was probably because of her low amount of credits, she needed more!

Because money was her one obsession, her only goal in life. Money was the key to life! She needed money to do everything and anything to achieve power and glory. One day, everything that once was would come back to her and she would be herself again. Not only would she be herself, but she would be a hero! A hero who had conquered many things and slain beasts to get to her one and final goal!

One of those many many things she would be overcoming would be an apparent traitor to his race, Erion dar Saben. One of the many Draconians swarming around this pathetic forest village she was pushing her way through, this Erion had a sum of a thousand credits on his head. When Dawn had seen the price, her eyes literally ka-chinged with dollar signs! She would do anything in the world to have credits streaming down her fingers like grains of sand, even face up to an outlaw of a country of a race she had no idea about!

Drakelings were extremely weird to the dark elf, their species was just overall weird; take their lifestyle for instance. Building huge houses in a chunk of an even huger tree was kind of odd. These rope bridges were also hard to cross. Not to mention that the tough heat and damp atmosphere were driving Dawn's body insane! Dawn had been given instructions from a Cahir dar Laighi (another bossy weirdo through Dawn's eyes) though and she knew where she was going... At least she thought she did.

Just when she thought that her source had misguided her, Dawn came upon a large place similar to a town square. This is it! Dawn smirked and calmly stepped her way towards the pacific area where she would be meeting the others in this large meeting place filled with a weird species and wooden structures everywhere. She sighed, Well here we go...

[Lye]

A month's boat ride to Dheathain did not bode well for the assassin's temperament. He had to sit with those rich with the stench of the sea and travelers which not only lived pampered lives to which they incessantly complained about, but just as easily could have revealed him for the killer he was. Unfortunately, The Viper of Salvar had yet to secure his agents into any port city or sea faring group, therefore forcing him to travel amongst the people incognito. The journey was as much a test of patience as it was a test of endurance and for the most part, he was successful. Only one small boy the age of 13 went "missing" on the voyage, and was mournfully attributed to accidentally falling overboard during the night. Though he was lost to the sea under the cover of moonlight, nothing was accidental about it and Lye simply had enough.

"We're here," hissed the serpentine ferryman. He was the first drakeling the killer had met face to face. Once they made shore, Lye made haste to the first local toting a vessel inbound to the capitol of Suthainn. Although hesitant, this lizardfolk was just as keen to gold as any smooth skinned human.

"Fifty gold, as promised," Lye stated, tossing a small linen satchel into the scaled hands with a satisfying clink. The dock was small, wrecked with mold and fungus, all protesting in a muted groan under the weight of the traveler's combat boots. It was enough to hold his weight, but there was no telling how long this structure would hold in the days to come and was clearly a stranger to outsiders.

"Sshould you need 'nother ride backk, your gold will be welcome," the Scale Caste clicked. Lye turned to face him as the black scaled human ran a tongue over his teeth. One would assume a forked tongue, but it was not, and the habit seemed well established.

"Until then," the robed assassin returned as the first of many drakelings thrust his crooked stick into the murky swap waters and pushed off to his next destination.

Lye made his way down the dock, careful to test the continuity of each board from giving way under his weight. The thick muggy air had been working at him from under his concealing robes for some time now, a damp stew brooding under the layers. Once safely standing atop newer and much better kept docking, he made haste to cast back his hood. Although it was not a great improvement, he felt relived that he could reveal his face again without the sound of guards shortly to follow.

"Now, to where should I begin?" he asked inwardly as he passed small groups of scaled humans similar to the ferryman. They looked upon him in bewilderment. His passing halted the hiss of conversation and as though second hand, he cracked a smile. "No different than back home," he jeered at the treatment of his presence.

"You two," he directed toward a rose-scaled female barely clad in cloth and male of navy scales donning a rag over his groin. The male took immediate action and pushed the woman behind his back in a display of aggressive defense in his posture. Lye stifled the need to laugh.

"Do you speak the common tongue?"

The male nodded, a flash of pink scales peering over his shoulder.

"Would you please be so kind as to direct me the pub your guards or huntsman frequent?"

There was hesitation, the narrowed eyes questioned intent of the outsider. Yet still without word, the Scale Caste lowlife pointed a finger directly upward and refused to break eye contact. Lye grew irritated with the lack of cooperation and given the delicacy of strange civilization, his usual methods of securing information were rendered inept. Against his violent tenancies, he offered a nod of gratitude and continued his way through the barely afloat swampland market. The purpose of this venture was to secure a foothold in Dheathain and potentially increase The Order's numbers by incorporating some of exotic draconian warriors he heard so much about. At present, he was grossly disappointed. No claws, no wings, no horns, and certainly no one was breathing flames of any sort.

"Stranger!" he heard, called to his direction by a booming voice. Lye stopped and turned to face the potential aggressor. "What is your business here?" He dwarfed the assassin by about six inches in both height and width, his body covered in much thicker scales than he had seen prior. Rigid talons gripped an ivory pole arm akin to dragon bone, and his body donned armor of the same likeness.

"I want to commandeer a couple of your less than admirable warrior and thugs, work them into a secret assassin order, and potentially corrupt your government for political maneuvers of my liking at a later date," was what his mind wanted to say, but he choked down the obvious and tried his hand at tact.

"Well, currently, to find a place to spend my coin on a drink that preferably doesn't involve my boots sticking to some fetid goo of unknown origin," was what he voiced instead.

The guardsman tilted a fanged smile in response to the foreigner's lack of intimidation to himself.

"I know just the place, follow me. Keep an eye on your coin purse while we are down here. These urchins would make easy prey from an outsider like yourself." The lumbering giant turned his back, exposing two freakish nubs that once seemed to be limbs of some kind, and led them toward a crudely crafted ramp fashioned from bone and hemp.

"If only it were that easy," he thought in response to the lizard's warning.

It was a journey of rope bridges, mazes of ramps stairs and spiraling branches. The buildings they passed weren't "built" per say, but carved from the living flesh of the massive trees these paths clung to. The higher they ventured, the better quality both the walkways and structures became. Boughs of these gigantic trees split in two, merchants or the rich using the gap to fashion exotic, yet ornate grand structures. The architecture was both the pinnacle of artisan craft and primitive technique. As the scenery improved, so did the quality of inhabitants. Instead of barely rag clad scaled humans below, the locals not only wore fabrics trimmed in ornate designs and filigree, but thicker scales, wings, claws, and long snouts filled with razor sharp teeth. Oddly enough, there still existed the occasional nude or scantily clad.

"Here," the guardsman abruptly stopped at a building barely emerging from the bark of a thick trunk. "Best pub this side of the Suthainn Proper if you ask me."

"Thank you," Lye replied, as he took a few steps, then paused. "Say, are all the citizens here as jumpy around strangers as the ones below?"

The guard brought a pair of clawed fingers to his chin, scraping against the scales prior to his answer, "Down there, yes, but I wouldn't be surprised if others treated you the same. We do not get outsiders often, and many are suspicious of new faces since the betrayal of Erion dar Saben."

"Erion dar Saben?" the assassin inquired, struggling with the name, but noting it as a potential addition to his roster for The Order.

"A traitor who murdered one of our most respected. There has been a manhunt for his head, and a bounty has been made public. He was a figure of great power, and people still fear that his influence lingers."

"I see, I'm interested to know more. Where would I inquire about this bounty?"

The serpentine guard furrowed a hairless brow, now questioning the man's true motive himself.

"Just down the way a little, take the ramp up to the next level, and on the right. This is the barracks for the guard. You will need to speak to Cahir dar Laighin. You can't miss him." Lye's welcome had been overstayed and his helpful guard abruptly gave him his back before vanishing back down the steps to Lower Suthainn.

"Short tempers, fitting for the blood of dragons," the traveler observed.

The assassin followed the given directions, taking in the exotic breed that were the Drakelings. Something about the elegance, yet inherent ferocity of the females appealed to the killer's primitive interests - especially those bold enough to walk in public without clothes. Lye held back the urge to broadcast a lecherous smile, keeping in his mind to let the half-demon from The Order, Aurelianus Drak'shal, know of their existence for possible employment in The House of Sin.

"Halt!" Twin lances crossed in the foreigner's path. "State your business!"

"The bounty on Erion dar Saben," Lye stated plainly, still having trouble mimicking the name with the local dialect.

"Proceed." Both guards, easily twice as strong as he, gave way and allowed him passage to the main room of the barracks. At the central of the many within, stood a figure of clear importance. This had to be Cahir.

"I'm looking for Cahir dar Laighin," he proclaimed, hushing the hiss of the serpentine crowd.

"And who might you be?" Inquired the largest of those present.

"I'm someone interested in helping you get rid of a wanted man."

The dragon kin righted himself at the reply. "Then I am Cahir. Follow me to my office so that we may discuss this in private."

The assassin did as suggested, not a regular feat of his, and weaved past the others huddled in the main foyer of the barracks. Once inside the small, yet spacious quarters of Cahir's office, the drakeling shut the doors.

"How much are you aware of?" He inquired before taking a seat.

"A decent amount. One of your guardsmen was gracious enough to inform me of the current situation among the people," Lye refused to take a seat due to the moisture his clothes and cloak had collected from both heat and humidity. He tugged on the garb about his shoulders with eyes met with his company. Understanding the subtle message, Cahir gave him a firm nod of approval, and Lye freed himself from the cloth prison. The air inside the establishment was much more refreshing than that from outdoors and the discomfort was immediately relieved.

"The man is a murderer and a traitor. The details of his crime are something I need not go into detail with a foreigner. All you need to know is that he is dangerous and wanted dead or alive. Either way, the bounty for his head is on thousand gold as mandated by Ceann Cath, our leader. This is a public number, and there will be others contesting for his head. Do you have a problem working with others?"

"Yes, but they usually end up dead... with a little help. Sounds like this Erion is perfect should he be persuaded," Lye thought before checking himself.

"I typically work alone, but I can manage company," he stated instead. "Do you have information on what I should be looking for?"

"Well, Erion is a fairly large Draconian, roughly seven feet tall and on the muscular side. His scales are a dark blue and predominantly cover half his face, his back and his shoulder. On the side of his face without scales is a large scar that runs down across his hairline and then his neck, stopping at his collarbone. He is also one of the few of our kind without wings. As far as his location, it is unknown, but we have reason to believe he has taken refuge in one of the many ruins in the surrounding area."

"Lovely..."

Cahir rose from his seat and moved to the door, bringing it open. "Now it is best for you to be on your way, there are others gathering in the Suthainn Proper - others like yourself. They will be leaving at any moment."

The assassin gave a nod and left the office. Cahir motioned to another in the crowd which joined him, and the door was again shut. Cowl in hand, Lye made his way back into the thick humidity of the Fiorair rainforest. As he journeyed back down the steps to the Suthainn Proper, he hung his garb on one of the many bones protruding from the expertly crafted railings. He ventured into the fray, his usual wear of black leather vest, boots, gloves, leggings, and a crimson vlince scarf.

"Let's meet the competition."

[Riordan dar Faile]

Riordan glared down at the papers in her hand, wishing for them to give her the solution to her problem. The problem being Erion dar Saben and where exactly he was. Cahir had given her a list of a couple possible locations, even going so far as to make notations on where other groups had headed, according to his scouts, and their reasoning behind it. Most of the groups had stayed within the confines of Fiorair, while one had ventured to some of the outlying villages on the grasslands. However, she noticed one notation that stuck out in her mind, a report from a group of merchants that they'd seen someone of Erion's description taking an old and almost completely overgrown trail towards the coast. It seems most of the other hunters had brushed it off as simple mistaken identity. It would have been almost impossible for Erion to make it that far, that fast.

Not to mention, it was the Staran de Cagar, no one took that trail anymore.

Even Cahir had made a note that the merchants were only looking for favour. The report had just been included with all the other sightings of him, some even placing the man on a boat bound for Fallien of all places. That she knew to be a definite case of mistaken identity. Even on the back of a dragon, not that any had been reported stolen, it would take Erion several days to reach Talmhaide, not to mention thanks to the Fae's wonders with magical communication, his description had already been spread to all harbour masters. If he left the region, it would not be through the harbour of Talmhaide.

Still, both Talmhaide and the region of Luthmor were accessible from the Staran de Cagar and it would not be the first time the Fae had harboured a wanted criminal from Fiorair. One of those tickling sensation prodded the back of her mind. The same one that had reared it's head while she'd been in his apartments, as if she were missing something blatantly staring her in the face.

“They're here.”

Blinking out of her reverie and coming back to reality, Riordan glanced up from the thick papers, her black eyes turning towards her new partner, Faolan dar Allister. On the short side for a Drakeling, Faolan, like her, was a member of the Wing caste, though they could not be more different. He was her height, maybe with half an inch on her. Where she was lean and compact muscle, he was squat and built heavily, his arms being nearly the size of her head. He looked too big to move with grace, yet she had seen him fight five trainees as once and disarm each and every one of them.

He carried a crystal great sword upon his back, the beast of a weapon nearly half his height and as thick as his hand. Over that lay a shield of wood and scale and crystal. A little on the ornate side for her, but to each their own. Like her, most of his body lay covered in scales, his of a deep, almost muddy brown colour, but both of his hands were humanesque. His feet, on the other hand, were two clawed and scale covered appendages he did not bother covering. And his face was far more serpentine than hers.*

He nodded his head toward the forum and Riordan looked out into the crowd of Drakelings as they moved from one shop to another, or stood in groups conversing. It was not hard to tell where Faolan was gesturing. Though no one stopped and stared, eyes did turn towards the human male as he made his way towards them, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his clothes sticking to his damp skin. She felt her lip curl up and a growl build in her throat, but she quickly stifled it.
"A human!?" She asked indignantly, before he was in hearing range.

Faolan nodded. "The other joining us is supposed to be a Dark Elf."

"An elf? That's only slightly better than a Fae." This time the words did come out in a growl.

Faolan didn't acknowledge it. There was no love lost between the two of them. They were merely together to complete a mission and then they would go their separate ways.

Pushing away from the smooth, wooden railing, Riordan straightened herself to her full six foot height, noting that as the human approached them, they were exactly on par with one another. Still, even as he closed the last few feet of distance between them, she hoped him mistaken and that she would not have to indulge in this insanity any further. That thought vanished when Faolan approached him.

"You must be here for the dar Saben bounty." He held out his hand to the man. "I am Faolan dar Allister. This is Riordan dar Faile."

She acknowledged him with the barest tilt of her head. Turning away to let Faolan do the grunt work, she noted a woman with skin the colour of a freshly fallen night sky heading straight for the entrance to the gardens, and them in the way of it. Riordan knew this immediately to be the Dark Elf that was to join them. Her form did lighten some of the worry, she obviously carried weapons upon herself and from the albeit meagre mass of muscle, she knew how to at least slash at the air. She'd make a good distraction, if nothing else, and she was not a human.

"You must have come for the dar Saben mission as well." Riordan said as the last few feet were crossed. Speaking common felt weird to her, something she'd obviously need to get used to throughout this mission.

The woman nodded and took her hand, her grip firm, fingers long and lean. Introductions were quickly made between the four of them, not that Rory gave a (bugs) ass about what their names were. Fodder one and fodder two would suffice. They'd probably be completely useless if it came to fighting and were most likely only here because of the huge sum of money on Erion's head. Humans really were simple creatures. Dangle a small fortune in front of them and you could get them to do almost anything.

"Right, well before we waste any more day light on small talk, I suggest we head out."

Faolan looked at her with the slightest rise of his hairless brow. "Have you concluded where we're going?"

"Yes, to Donnalaich."

The look of surprise upon his face would have been more enjoyable, if it wasn't quickly overshadowed by doubt and uncertainty. Even so, he couldn't openly argue with her in front of the other two. The mission was hers, and to argue against her leadership, would be to say that Cahir had made a mistake putting her in charge. That could easily get him in murky water.
"We'll catch a boat to Aird and switch to a couple Liath Feusag to travel the rest of the way to Donnalaich."

She straightened her vest and began walking, naturally expecting the others to fall in next to her as she moved through the market crowds. Many of the locals gave them strange looks, but as the supposed bastard of The Ceann Cath, Riordan was used to it. They left Suthainn Proper by one of the many large rope bridges that spanned the wooden platforms built from one tree to the next. When she glanced down, she could see other bridges, connecting homes and paths and gardens to one another. Each plaotform was built of wood and carved into or from the trees around them, some of which even rested on the massive branches that snaked through the city.

At another junction of bridges, Riordan took the far left one, which began to gradually slope down. On the next platform over, they would be able to descend a flight of stairs to Lower Suthainn and the docks.

[BlueEvilGhostofSeaside]

Dawn was thankful for having a guide for where to go this time, but she seriously could tell than somebody apparently hated her here... She had followed in the back and had blindly followed them. They had finally made it from all those stupid bridges to a lower part of the city

The place was a mushy, gross swamp-like place. Just bellow the planks were the dirty waters. Dawn's mouth formed a discuss, now not only would she have to deal with the humidity, but the environment was terrible as well... At least there was no need for bridges anymore... So she simply followed the others up to a docking area without saying a word.

Everybody was quiet and did not say a word. Dawn wanted to groan and knock something over in the tension she felt due to this. She bit her lip as they came up to a ship at a docking area. The ship was made of wood and was a cross between big and small. Dawn slightly smiled in relief, they wouldn't have to walk in any water! She sighed and turned to the other finally breaking the silence. Her hands were placed on her hips, making her look rather much a snappy, emo kind of woman in her dark apparel, "This is the vessel we'll be on, eh?" She lips one of her behind her red streak of hair which, unlike the rest of her hair, was pulled back. She pushed the blood red streaks behind her ears, revealing some sweet on her face. The way she glanced at them all though, you would never see her inner complaints, just the fact that she was here and she was wanting action as soon a possible.

Uhh... I need setting help again... Heh, heh... :{ How does this look?