The Blades That Bind Us

[Leona Stevvains]

The lake shimmered like a sheet of azure diamonds below the bright orange sunrise. Leona looked at the rb of flame, careful not to stare directly at its radiance. Her visions had told her that Corone would be the setting for a ‘chance’ meeting between herself and two warriors. The wind blowed through her hair like a lover’s gentle whisper and her ponytail swayed ever so slightly in the breeze. Below the girl’s posterior was a perfectly laid out red and white checkered blanket, a precaution the girl had taken to protect herself from the various insets.

Her eyes shifted back and forth almost like the girl was engrossed with the text of a book. At her side lay several tarot cards, placed intricately in lines as if she told her own fortune. It bemused the witch to think of fortune cards that predicted her own life. How would anything be able to predict the outcomes for someone who could already do just that? She continued to scan the air, while in reality her eyes darted between all the various timelines.

In the matter of a few minutes, her visions were over, and it was once again Leona and the nature among her. The birds in the area began to sing their tunes, as if to wake the rest of the countryside up with their melody. She could hear leaves rustle in the distance, most likely a rabbit or squirrel venturing out for food. She looked to her right, opposite of the cards, to the brown picnic basket that sat unopen. She had prepared meals for her compatriots, because without them she knew her mission would fail.

Steam began to seep out of the top of the basket, almost as if the prophet timed the suns heat perfectly with the contents of the meals. The smell of the potato wafted in the air and danced through the girl’s nostrils. Her mouth salivated at the prospect of her teeth sunk deep into the soft core of the vegetable. It was almost too much for her to take; much like her vices, temptations were everywhere.

In the distance, she could hear leaves crunch beneath the feet of something or someone. By this point, Leona already knew who her ‘unexpected’ guests would be, just another benefit to her abilities. A sigh escaped her lips as she opened up the top of the basket and a cloud of steam escaped from the interior of the container.

She shifted her eyes towards the first of the two that would arrive. The prophet reached into the basket and tried to maneuver past the steam so as not to burn her hand. “I’ve been expecting you. I hope you don’t mind that I packed us a lunch. We’re all going to need it considering what we have to do.” As Leona spoke, she completely ignored the fact that her tarot cards glowed with a bright blue light.

((Closed to Tobias Stalt and Enigmatic Immortal))

[Tobias Stalt]

Of all the things Tobias had ever heard, "I've been expecting you" seemed like the most normal. Since his first steps in Corone after Eiskalt, events had been set into motion that tore everything the youth knew apart. When he saw the lunchbox and woman neatly displayed on the ground, his lips turned downward. When she greeted him, he groaned. It was as though the world had no breaks to offer Tobias, nor any shortage of surprises.

It had been several days since he left the inn and left Ashla Icebreaker to her own devices. They had shared a few hard times and exchanged words, but Tobias was no worse for any of that. It had been a better meeting than the last he'd had with Lichensith Ulroke, at least. At the thought of his nemesis, Tobias' hand brushed thoughtlessly over his chest. He stared down at the woman he had never met, and he responded. "Have you."

The deep seated acceptance in his voice betrayed the fact that he had grown numb to surprises. Things ended, people came and went; at times, he had only the option to embrace the fate ahead. The woman on the checkerboard pattern pried back the lid of her basket, and Tobias blinked. The scent of fresh baked rolls, glazed with honey butter and bronzed to perfection rolled over his senses, and a line of drool escaped from his mouth.

He dragged a sleeve across his face. "Lunch first, if you please," he found himself saying. "You can explain while I eat. I've not had a thing in days." Without even knowing the woman, he had accepted her seemingly hospitable offer, and he silently cursed himself. If this were to be how he died, at least he would die with the taste of his favorite food.

What a pathetic thought.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Eiskalt

That nation was trash now, the forces of the Ixian Knights and Misery Business taking it apart piece by simple piece. There the immortal had lost his temper, and sanity much to provocation of Lye and the help of the Cult. He had been emotionally pulled in so many directions that the knight had decided to give himself the break he needed.

Out in the forest, meditating in private behind a series of stones next to a little brook he sat eyes closed and thoughts open. He let the building tension of the words spoken to him fall out of each exhale, the positive energy of Concordia around him flow in to keep his mind clear. In…then out. In…then out. His chest lifted only slightly as the wind gently blew around him like a whimsical dancer. A leaf lead the procession, moving around the immortal, but never once coming in contact with him.

His nose inhaled…

Jensen coughed as he suddenly shot his eyes open, looking to the area around him and sniffing the breeze. There was a scent he could detect, something divine and heavenly that caught his attention and awoke him from his inner mediations. It was full of butter, whiffs of vegetable goodness wrapped in the guise of a simple potato. He could suddenly feel the warm flakes upon his tongue, the juices running down the side of his mouth. He began to tap his tongue against the roof of his mouth like a dog, slowly lifting himself up as he let the wind guide him.

With eyes shut he moved slowly, trusting his instincts as he walked, dodging rocks and holes as he made way. The tree’s tickled his face as the leaves brushed his face like a gentle lover, and at last he felt the surroundings open up to him. He opened his eyes looking to the woman and the man who sat. They looked like they were on a picnic date, and the immortal suddenly felt his stomach grumble, loudly.

Then suddenly his mind flashed a strike of lighting across the clear sky. Heat rolled up in a haze surrounding them as the brush line opened to the demonic hands of a gigantic colossal sized William Arcus. In his demon form, the ex-Ixian had fought Jensen over the wondrous joy of a twice baked potato. They had fought to death, and beyond just to spite the other, but the point was always the same. Jensen wanted that potato, and William ensured he never got it. In this image of a nightmare, William's flames engulfed the land, burning the potato to ashes.

But that image was changed Quickly. The sudden god sized foot of Joshua Cronen crushed the entire picnic destroying the potatoes. The man was another member of the Ixians Knights who had fought in the cell, confidence oozing out his pores. The potato in that room they fought in should have been Jensen’s, but instead of helping Jensen fight and defeat the son of Cassandra Remi who was on a killing spree, the idiot fought with Sei’s father. Because of that, Jensen hadn’t the energy to eat the potato, that fell and was ruined on the ground.

Jensen realized the gods, the horsemen, the entire universe were out to ensure he never would eat this most holiest of foods. So he stared at the potato in their hands, and narrowed his eyes.

“Potato…” he whispered jealously…

[Leona Stevvains]

“I know you have not,” Lena spoke to the man known as Tobias Stalt, “By my count, it has been… 3 days? One loses track of time when they can see all the futures. It is a pleasure to meet you, Tobias Stalt the Untapped.” She reached into the basket and withdrew two of the baked rolls and one twice baked potato. She set the bread before Toby, the other in her lap, and the potato at the far corner of the blanket.

“The wha?” Tobias asked as he sat down and grabbed his roll as if it were going to disappear on him. He held it close to his chest as he eyed the precognitive woman. Leona just smiled as her gaze shifted towards the sea of trees before them. A person of normal persuasion would have thought nothing of the wind that passed by and wafted the smell of the potato into the foliage. Leona Stevvains was the very epitome of abnormal.

“You can come out now, Mr. Ambrose,” She spoke with the same demeanor as if she were calling a puppy, “I saved the potato especially for you. There’s no need to hide, yur servants gave you away, Master of the Wind.” She yawned and bit into her roll, the sweat from the bun dripping onto the blanket. She had liberally applied enough cold butter to compensate for the time she would spend out here waiting for these two particular individuals.

Of course, neither of them would know what their titles meant, and Leona liked being just cryptic enough to keep the men interested in what she had to say. It took Jensen Ambrose a minute or so to finally peek out from behind the trees. The temptation of the potato would prove too much for the immortal as he approached the couple. Finally, the trio was complete. Jensen sat down and took a bite of the food he had pined over for so long under Ixian Knight housing.

“Now that I have you both here,” Leona was not one for small talk, “Who wants to go hunt for a sword?”

[Tobias Stalt]

He took the rolls from her like a man possessed, nibbling fiendishly as though he would never eat again in his life. When she spoke of the time elapsed since his last meal, he peered at her sidelong over each savory bite. What she had called him- Untapped? Tobias was unsure what she meant by it, but he wondered just how much research she had done on him. "You're working for the Crimson Hand," he said slowly, "but there's no poison on this food. What game are you playing at, girl?"

He finished the first roll and sat quietly as she ignored him and continued to elaborate about a hunt for a sword. That made him stop. "Sword?" Tobias mouthed the word incredulously, then glared at Leona icily. The wind was gentle to contrast his demeanor, warm rays from the sun pricking at his hardened heart. The man next to him, Jensen Ambrose, he had heard of by name and reputation, but he was hard pressed to believe they had both come to this place by accident. "Just what is going on?"

"You are Tobias Stalt," she said after a moment of flipping a card between her fingers delicately. "Your father was a merchant, and he hoped to make one of you as well. You left his house and his good graces two years past, made a life for yourself as a thief, then stumbled onto a job that changed your life forever." Tobi stared at the woman blankly. She smirked, then continued. "You cannot use magic," she said triumphantly, "because the Tap rejects you. You are Untapped."

His hand nervously hovered over one of his daggers. "How can you know any of this," he murmured discontentedly. "And why have you not sold me out to the highest bidder?"

"Because I have need of you, Tobias," she reiterated. "Do try to keep up. I've said as much already. I need you to find a sword for me."

"Gods, boy, pay attention," Jensen snorted, rolling his eyes. "Trust me," the Immortal said, "it only starts making less sense from here."

"Wonderful," Tobias muttered. "I can understand bringing Ambrose," he thumbed in the man's direction, "but why me?" He doubted she had much use for a man whom she knew had no magical talent at all. The fact that she knew it still made him uneasy.