A Most Dangerous Game

[Cards of Fate]

(Closed to Fez)

“Fuck this cold…” The words left Vince’s mouth on a cloud of fog as he pulled his coat tighter around his body. The wagon creaked forward slowly, plowing through snow laden roads leading into Knife's edge. The wind howled, tearing through all in its path and leaving nothing but the bitter cold behind. The scholar attempted to wipe some running from his nose before it froze. Before him sat several armed men, all bound in furs and armor to keep them warm. The objective was simple, there was a recruit to be found for the Tarot Hierarchy. Vince knew this due to the intense pain that shot through his skull every time he even thought about the group. Leona had long since disappeared, leaving Vince with a fragment of her sight. Just enough to function, the locate the Arcana of destiny.

But not well.

The visions came as short bursts of pain, sometimes words or images and leaving only agony in their wake. They would haunt him in his sleep or waking hours all the same, and it was beginning to take it’s toll. The skin under his sapphire eyes had begun to sag. His skin was pale, his mane of golden hair unkempt and frazzled. His normally cheerful demeanor was soured with an almost permanent scowl. Another vision shot through his consciousness, sending pain cascading through every fiber of his being. The scholar hunched over as the contents of his stomach threatened to spill out. His companion's eyed him with concern, and one of them offered a wine pouch to the scholar.

“Leona used to chase the visions away with wine sir.” One of the men chimed. “It’ll help warm the body and chase the pain.” The scholar nodded and took a swig of sour concoction, struggling to choke it down. He grimaced and stared at the skin as warmth began to trickle down his face into the rest of his body. Yet he could feel the alcohol chasing away destiny’s nagging reminders from the corner of his mind.

He would be playing a dangerous game walking between medication and addiction.

Finally they arrived at the gate, and after the guards checked their paperwork, they were ushered into the city proper. They had taken on a contract to hunt some beasts, and the group would be meeting in a tavern in the middle of town.

He hoped they would have an open seat close to the fire.

[Fez_The_Kid]

Firewood crackled and burned in a young, guttering flame. The hearth glowed orange from the room’s eastern wall like an impending sunrise, where a full moon gleamed in the night sky overhead. Scores of travellers had gathered off to one side of the room, washing away their troubles with ale and strong mead. Columns of steam rose across the main hall--the tavern’s largest chamber--the acquainted fragrance of Salvaran fare filling the air. Merka’s bleached face appeared rusted under the dim candlelight, sitting at a table across from Anubis of Skavia.

The Salvarian sat, arms on the tabletop, a drained pewter tankard in his grasp. He glanced to the window next to him, noticing that a screeching snowstorm was still underway. “Damned cold is going to see us as frozen meat before we even leave the city gates.”

Merka reached for an apple from a lying fruit mocuck. “We ought to wait till sunrise before we set off,” the elf said, taking a slobbering bite from the fruit. “Should make it easier for us to see in the gods-forsaken wilderness. Storm likely will have calmed by then.”

“Word,” the Salvarian agreed, taking a final sip from his nightcap. The ale entered his throat with a strong ginger burn, leaving a bitter aftertaste in its wake. “How many of them are there?”

Merka shrugged. “No clue. Man who posted the contract said that his lumberers were off into the woods and never returned. Sent a few guards after they’d been missing for two days; guards followed the trail, found and etrieved them.” He took another mouthful. “What remained of them anyway.”

“Well. We better scout around before we even think about killing anything,” Anubis said. “Don’t want us thinking we’re facing a family only to get greeted by a pack.” Setting the tankard down, he added, “Only actually faced draves a few times in my life; this is the third.”

“You’ve been alive for no more than two decades and a half, you dolt,” the elf grinned. “Of course you faced them a few times.”

Anubis’ face twisted sourly. “Touché. But you can’t deny that if we fought, I’d still probably kick your ass,” he sneered.

The ex-Bladesinger seemed to stifle a laugh, then riposted, “No, I shan’t fight you. Because if I do, I’d kill you. Inadvertently, of course.”

“Doesn’t matter, elf. We’d be fighting in the Citadel, anyway.” Anubis scratched his brow, leaning in to whisper, “I got a better proposal, for us both.”

Merka nodded curiously. “I’m all ears.”

“Let's make a bet. Each of us will participate in a battle in the Citadel. Say that one wins and the other loses, then the winner... well, wins the bet. If we both win, then we’ll settle it together. One-on-one.”

"What's at stake?" he questioned.

"A gold pouch, no more, no less." Anubis grinned, "What do you say?"

“Interesting... But better we focus on the task at hand, than plan ahead of time, no?” the elf suggested, smiling. Anubis was about to reply, before he saw his companion’s eye wander, settle on something behind him. “Looks like we got ourselves some guests,” he muttered.

The swordsman turned in his seat. A group of men, armed--their heavy broadswords lying unsheathed at their sides--to the teeth, had appeared at the entrance. They were followed by a tall blonde-haired man, no older than twenty, his blue-eyed gaze cold. Heart-chilling. The man was, as his clothing attested, a young nobleman--Anubis judged--crossing the threshold of a modest Knife Edge tavern. For a reason that seems clear, yet vaguely obscure. Where did I see him before? Anubis narrowed his eyes, suspicion growing and tugging the strings of doubt in his mind.

[Cards of Fate]

The instant reprieve from the weather outside set the scholar at ease as he cracked his neck and began to remove his thick fur coat. One of the men near him, a giant of a man native to Salvar named Olaf, moved to take it from him. Beneath his coat he wore an arctic beast tunic dyed black, and a pair of thick wool trousers. At his hip hung the blade of the emperor, a blue damascus blade that shimmered lightly in the firelight “Thank you Olaf.” Vince muttered between slightly clenched teeth. His mood had soured further, and his visions had begun to grow in frequency and intensity as they’d navigated the streets.

They were growing close.

The scholar carefully scanned the crowd with his sapphire eyes, squinting carefully. The throbbing in his head grew more intense as gaze grew closer to the fire. Finally his eyes set on a Salvarian and it felt like someone had driven a railroad spike through his skull. The scholar's eyes bulged as his stumbled forward, only to be caught by Olaf. The giant tried to communicate something to Vincent, but his words were drowned out by the ringing in his ears and the soft chant of voices in the back of his mind. “Found him, found him, FOUND HIM.” their soft words grew to a roar as his mind's eye was filled with a vision of a crudely drawn red sword.

“May he serve as a blade of fate.”

The voices, the pain, and the ringing went silent immediately as Vincent rose to his feet and glared back in direction of his fated compatriot. He seemed non-descript enough, brown hair, inconspicuous clothing. Then his gaze settled on the man's golden eyes. “They always have a quirk…” was the only thing that left his lips.

“Lord Vincent.” Olafs gruff hand on the scholars shoulders shook him back to reality. “Are you alright? You haven’t said a word since you stumbled!” Vincent took a moment to regain his composure and nodded.

“Sorry, I just...found our man.” Vincent whispered to the giant cupping his hand to his servants ear. He leaned back and smiled, picking his voice up so all could hear him. “I must simply be hungry from our travels! Here!” The scholar slid the giant a pouch filled with gold coins. “Order us some food and drinks, whatever you want at my expense!” The other men perked up at this and began to cheer.

“Yes sir!” Olaf grunted smiling, his green eyes shining behind his bushy eyebrows. “Petyr! Grab us that table over by the hearth and make sure Lord Vince gets warmed up propperly! He looked ill as the grave on the way up here!” The men all laughed and a scrawny man with impish features offered his arm to the the scholar.

“Right this way boss!” he cooed in a silken voice. “The fire ought to do you some good!” The two managed to find their way near the fire and sit down. The man, Petyr, was several heads shorter than Vince was built as if someone had barely managed to stretch his skin over his bones. “That man over there…” The imp dropped his voice. “Anubis of Skavia, the woman he’s with is an ex bladesinger…” The scholar smiled.

Having a mind reader on staff was helpful.

“What are they up to? Any tasks?” Vincent murmured resting his elbows on the rough wooden table before him. He lazily cupped his head in his hands and gazed around the room as his absently as his mind worked over the info he was being fed.

“They’re going to hunt Draves…” the imp cooed. “A frightening prospect for two of them if it’s a full pack....They might need some help…” the bald man let a soft giggle escape his lips. “Forgive me milord, it’s rare I get to dance through such interesting minds! Difficult to stay undetected! I must retreat for now before they get wise.”

Olaf, and the two other unnamed men returned with a large tray of breads, meats, and flagons of Ale. The scholar pulled a roll from the pile and sunk his teeth into it. Gathered around him were not fellow Tarot Hierarchy members, Fate had not chosen them, but they were his employees. His closest and most trusted men in his ever growing empire of trade. They were aware of the Hierarchy though, and chose that if serving Vince happened to help this shadowy organization, then so be it.

“So what’s the job Mi’lord” A short red headed dwarf asked, leaning over the table. “Why are we here?”

“Well Demetri…” Vince trailed off smiling. “We’re going to be hunting Draves.”

[Fez_The_Kid]

Still turned in his seat, Anubis’ eye fixed on the tall blonde. The man had searched the horde with his blue-eyed gaze--as if searching for someone--then met the Salvarian, settled on him. A chill crept over Anubis as the man collapsed suddenly, a giant hand affording him support as it pushed him upright.

I know I saw him before. He comes in, I sense something strange. Almost like a voice pestering me in the back of my mind. He looks over here and it seems like a mace thumps the back of his head. What, is he going to call me by my name now? Anubis swallowed. Have an odd feeling about this.

Anubis noticed the blonde’s mouth move as he stared in their direction. Something about me. The swordsman watched, as the man and his giant of a companion jawed away. Then suddenly came the anouncement. The blonde passed his companion a pouch of gold, offered to pay for his men, all of whom stood up and cheered, hailing their free-handed leader.

Gesturing for the one named Petyr, the giant led the nameless leader to a table beside the hearth, directly next to the human elf duo’s. Anubis saw the imp point with his head in his direction. The Salvarian cursed, turning in his seat. Merka watched with a frown. His bone-white eyes unwavering on the newcomers, he leaned in. “They’re talking about you.”

Anubis narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, I noticed. The level of attention that blonde’s getting right after he walked right in unsettles me. Any idea what they’re saying?”

Merka gave a hesitant nod. “Yes. They know about the contract. That kid…” Merka paused, furrowing his brows. “I believe he’s reading our minds.”

One of the warrior’s men, a dwarf, questioned their presence. As the leader answered, Anubis met Merka with a glare, both sets of brows widened. Alright, this is it. Time to confront them. Anubis straightened, turned and approached the blonde-haired one.

“Greetings. Name’s Anubis of Skavia.” As you already know, you bastard. “Heard that you and your men are to hunt some Draves. My friend and I,” Anubis half-turned, gestured towards the elf, “have just taken on the same contract.”

The swordsman continued, “Suggest we rendezvous in the woods. Location is just outside the city walls,” he said. Anubis’ attention then fixed on the man’s sword, glistening deep blue in the candlelight. “What do you say?” he suggested, eyes still on the blade. Made from damascus. Lucky bastard.

[Cards of Fate]

It's really short, but we just need to move the scene forward

The group stared silently at the man who’d approached them. For a moment the simply chewed their food silently, before Vincent finally swallowed and spoke.

“Two things my good man,” he quipped rising to his feet and looking the man up and down. “It is incredibly rude to eavesdrop,” a grin creeped across his lips. “And what the fuck are you talking about? The names Lord Vincent Cain” The gestured towards himself with a thumb, “and I’m out here hunting Drakes for sport! I’ve got a nice spot over my mantle for one of the scaley fuckers.”

The men behind them began to howl with laughter and rose to their feet. “If you’re working on killin’ Drakes, we can make something work out eh?” The scholar offered a hand to the mercenary who took it and shook firmly. The others hooted a bit before settling down.

“Sure, can we meet you at dawn?” Olaf piped in rising to his feet to tower over everyone present. “We just rolled into town and the young lord has been a bit sick due to the sudden chill.” The scholar nodded and piped in. “If you don’t have lodging for the night I could sure spare some coin perhaps for my…” he paused for a moment. “...guides to the local area.”

The other men grew silent and settled down, eating their food and watching their boss intently as he spoke. The new man was an unknown, and should he chose to react with violence he would find himself on the business end of more than one blade.

[Fez_The_Kid]

No-one continued speaking after Anubis had approached the hired guns, nothing save the chomping of food and the hearth cackles pulsating in the soundless dining room. Whatever the blue-eyed man had been chewing he swallowed it, straightened, and--like the mercenaries behind him--bore his eyes into the Salvarian.

Anubis frowned. ‘Lord’, huh? You can go shove it up your ass, you twerp. “Yeah, dawn sounds all right. We’ll meet there,” he said, agreed to the giant’s proposal, “No -- we’re fine, thanks. Uh, and, try not to bring too many people along,” the Salvarian said, turned, paused, then looked back at the soldiers of fortune. “We’re bound to scare the draves off if you do.”


A copse of conifer trees swayed under the soughing wind, chilly squalls whispering through snow-clad fronds and ruffling the fur of a dozen beasts. Their nostrils flared at the undying odor of blood; it was subtle, like a trail of burnt incense. Frost-white breaths emerged from their bloodied maws, misting the cold air. The wind carried their shrill voices--a queer, animalistic tongue spoken a dozen paces before the human elf duo.

Merka grunted. “I don’t see the alpha.”

“Me neither,” Anubis said. The beasts’ puffs filled his ears, an indication of the prey’s recent death. They fed in deep growls and nauseating gurgles. “Strange. Usually it’s the first one to eat.”

Anubis sensed the wind ignore his armor, plaguing his bones with its freezing touch. Shuddering at the sensation, he whispered, “Oughta wait for the rest. Have a feeling they won’t enter the scene as subtley as we did.”

Silence from the elf meant mute agreement, rendering Anubis’ face into a smirk. After some time, the elf spoke. “Whatever is the hurry, Anubis? Draves are probably going to stay here for a while.”

Anubis grinned. “We won’t be able to cut our wolf loose, looks like...”

There was a pause. Merka's gaze remained fixed on his friend. “Really? You chose to jest here, of all places?”

He smiled. “Ah, but Merka, old friend, who doesn't appreciate some fun? Especially while waiting, mind you."

“I don’t,” was the elf’s blunt answer.

"'I dont.'" Anubis scoffed.

“Idiot. That's not what I meant.”

Anubis shot Merka a glance at that, then said, "I can see it in your eyes, elf. What are you planning to do?"

Tendrils of magic swirled in Merka’s gauntleted palm, black as lacquer.

"We attack them now."

Anubis blinked, then a moment later he said, mostly to himself. "On second thought, that’s what I wanted to hear.” He unslung his crossbow, holding the weapon by its dry stock. “They should show up in time to help with the remaining ones." Anubis reached for a bolt, loaded it into the groove dug in the weapon’s center.

As if wiped off, Merka’s smile twisted into a frown. “Yes."

“All right." The youth cocked his crossbow. "On one,” he whispered, eyes unwavering on the nearest beast. “Three… two…"

"One--"

Movement at a squat mound four paces to their right interrupted them both, stirring the snow at the Salvarians's feet. Half-turning to meet the new presence, the swordsman muttered a stream of curses.

A huge dark mass of muscle stood high, headed by a scowling face with jaws lined with rows of razor teeth. Well, if it isn’t our precious alpha.

It was far from pleased with its guests.

[Cards of Fate]

A bolt shot through the air and glanced off the beasts thick hide. The Drake snapped his head from his current prey to assess the new threat. Vince, flanked by two men, crouched at the end of the clearing. Each held an elaborate crossbow, with a large quiver of bolts strapped to their backs. To his left the giant, Olaf swore slightly and readied another bolt.

“Nice shot,” Vince chuckled raising his crossbow. He peered down the sight, one eye clenched shut. He took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. The drawstring snapped forward, sending a steel bolt flying forward. Time stopped for a moment, the bolt hanging in midair.

Vincent smirked, knowing the end result already.

The Alpha snapped around, away from Anubis and his friend. It took three steps before it found the bolt lodged in its right eye. The beast howled with fury, but it’s cry was stopped short as it found another bolt in its throat. The rest of the beasts snapped to attention and turned to their aggressors.

It was time for a fight.

Olaf roared and dropped his crossbow reaching for the twin iron axes strapped at his hips. He freed them from their bindings with a simple fluid motion and charged forward. The average man would have cowered away from combat from a pack of vicious Drakes, but Olaf had faced worse. Vince set his crossbow aside and drew his blade and let out a hiss.

Three Drakes rushed Olaf; three drakes fell to his axes. The giant moved with the grace of a dancer and the ferocity of a bear. His blows were quick and powerful, cleaving through fur, flesh, and bone as if they were silk. The man to Vince’s right raised a crossbow and let off a quick shot felling one more of the beasts. By the time Vincent had even taken a step forward, the fight was practically over. The remainder of the pack burst off in a hasty retreat, leaving their comrades to their fate.

The scholar smiled as he strode towards his kill and knelt by its head. Orange orbs stared blankly back at him, slits of jetblack iris frozen in time. The scholar reached into seemingly nothing and pulled out a large hatchet from a cloud of sparks. He paused for a moment, then glanced over the other beasts and sighed.

“Olaf, we need to find another pack….” He gritted his teeth. “Our friends here found us a pack of runts…”

[Fez_The_Kid]

The alpha’s massive frame overshadowed the two warriors, its lacquer-black fur a stark contrast to the white that surrounded it. A fleshy tongue emerged between its teeth, licked its pink gums. Two buff eyes held Anubis like prey--who lay, provoked by the predator’s premature arrival. Squatted motionless, the Salvarian carefully set the crossbow down as to not arouse the beast’s killer instincts. In turn, another hand crept up to find his blade's hilt. “Easy now,” he whispered. Anubis saw the drave’s eye follow his hand closely. The blade progressed quietly out of its sheath.

A quarrel zoomed from a nearby clearing and found its mark on the beast’s flank, bouncing off its skin. The beast’s head shot toward the attacker’s direction, ears pricked forth. Anubis half-turned. Vincent and two of his men sat in a clearing, crossbow in hand.

Before either Anubis or Merka could react, Vince loaded another quarrel and aimed again.

The beast’s eye suddenly turned into a fleshy groove, its blood spattering snow; a second quarrel had hit home. The beast’s cry came to an abrupt stop as a third embedded itself into its throat. It gurgled, staggered again, and collapsed over the now bloody mound.

A figure from the newly arrived party suddenly rushed the watchful pack. Anubis eyes widened as he watched Vince's giant henchman charge like a hungered beast, intent on stealing the kill. Two axes flashed in his huge fists, his roar filling the air. Three draves emerged from the pack and dashed through the clearing to match the giant’s onslaught.

One fell to his blows, then another. Then another. A quarrel cut down the remaining of the three animals. Drave blood ran rampant. The pack's remnant slung their tails between their legs, turned, bolted into the undergrowth and out of view.

Anubis sighed under his breath, slung his crossbow over one shoulder and pushed himself upright. Merka’s eyes were unwavering on the approaching blonde, whose appearance, the two judged, was untimely. Rather, it was his entrance that was… impetuous. We had no chance to even blink. The elf’s magic slowly dissipated, its withdrawal a hesitant retreat into his being.

Vincent knelt beside the beast, eyeing it thoughtfully. Anubis stepped toward the blonde, brows furrowed. “Must have not heard me,” he muttered. “Thought I told you not to bring too many people along. You blew our cover; every other pack would have ran off. You can’t attack wild draves like that--you could bring down maybe two, three if you're lucky, but the rest would have already run off. Like now, for example.”

“What Anubis is trying to say--” Merka said nervously-- “is that you were… a bit rash, in making your appearance. Anyway, if you lot are up for another hunt, we won’t stop you. But we’ll take the head as proof of the kill,” the elf said. "Find us at the same inn for your share of the pay, if you give a damn about the reward.”

[Cards of Fate]

(Trying to bait Anubis in this, feel free not to bite)

The trio looked over the duo with skepticism. The day had just begun, and it seemed like they were being underestimated. An artic breeze blew through the woods, kicking snow flurries loose to dance one more in the air. The day had just started, and yet the duo already wanted to turn in. The giant let out a hearty chuckle.

“Surely you can’t be tired already? These beasts are nothing like the monsters we’ve hunted elsewhere. The dragonkin of Dhethain are a much tougher hunt, in much tougher terrain!” The slender man with the crossbow piped up as well.

“Hell, even the Dur’Taigen of the Red Forest have more bight than these critters, and the fucks turn into trees when you try to track them.” The tri exchanged a few jokes about other big game they had hunted across the world before Vince piped up.

“Gentlemen, if our companions wish to take a head and go home they can. We still need to find a bigger one for my wall. There’s no way in hell I’m going to put any of these runts on my wall next to that dragon we felled in Keribas.”

The scholar glanced over his two guests, hoping their insults were going to dig into their pride. Vince needed to test their resolve, their patience, and their strength. It appeared the man, Anubis, was marked by fate. There was no way in hell he was going to make a move until he had seen all the man had to offer, and if that meant driving him on a wild hunt through a dangerous terrain, then so be it. He wasn’t hunting Draves, he was hunting Anubis. He was playing a most dangerous game, and that meant he needed to ante up.

[Fez_The_Kid]

Snow glazed the brittle fur of the cadaver, burying it under a bundle of white. The quarrels had remained embedded in its body, sticking out of foul pits in its corpus. Anubis knelt next to it, studied it closely. The beast was larger than he had thought, its robust frame a once-walking testament to its rank in the pack’s hierarchy. Tartar coated its teeth in bronze, irregular blotches. Six, seven years old, the swordsman noted. A male.

Contract holder said pack’s been prowling the area for a while. Bloodied wagon we ran into must have belonged to the merchants. Pack ran into them, grew bold and started attacking every passerby. Don’t think they’ll come back any time soon. Anubis paused at Vincent’s remark, eyes narrowed on the carcass. Spirits know I’m tired of your unchecked conceit you pompous bastard.

He straightened, meeting the blonde lord with a tepid stare. “On your wall? If you don’t remember, we all supposedly came here on a contract. We’ll need the beast’s head as a trophy to get paid. If you want to hunt for sport, go round up some more men and chase some hares.” Anubis bared his teeth. “We don’t have time for--”

A hand clenched around his shoulder, drove him away from the gathering. “Excuse us for a moment,” Merka said, dragging Anubis away from the men of fortune. He stopped only when he was certain they were out of earshot. The elf hissed, “Are you out of your mind?”

“Out of my mind? Me? Such absurdity!”

“Snap out of it, Anubis,” Merka snarled. "Or I'll do it myself."

The Salvarian's face suddenly turned sober.

Merka's scowl softened. “This man’s no joke. If things don’t go our way and they decide to contest their wants...” he paused, in hope that his words had the slightest effect on his frowning comrade.

Then he grinned. “That fear I hear from you, Ralem? Never imagined you’d be so openly afraid.”

“I’m just considering the consequences. We ought not irk him. Now, the only logical reason he’s nagging us - no, you - is that he wants something. Rather, he needs you.”

Anubis raised a thin brow, questioned, “This one of your magic abilities? Mind reading?”

The ex-Bladesinger brought his arms together behind him. “No, just my intuition.”

“Great. So now we can be sure.”

“Mock all you want, but I'm firmly certain that there's much in it for you, if you do one thing. Ask him to take us with along, wherever he's leading us. There is more to it than just ‘finding a bigger one on my wall.’” Merka leaned in, staring the Salvarian in the eye. “Trust me on this one, friend," he whispered, then leaned back again. "Besides, a few less monsters in the world won’t ever do any harm. We'll go and nicely tell him that we'll bite, alright?”

“He did mention killing a dragon,” Anubis drawled. After a brief pause, the man sighed. “Fine. We’ll go.”

Merka nodded, legging it with his shorter comrade back to the mercenaries. “Sorry to have kept you waiting,” the Salvarian said, eyeing Vincent. “Mentioned you wanted a bigger one to display on your wall, right?”

Anubis paused, gave Merka a brief glance before continuing, “We were wondering if you would... see use in our help. A bigger drave than this, it’ll take more than just three men--with all due respect, of course,” he added, nodding towards Vincent’s men. “Your thoughts?”

[Cards of Fate]

Vince cocked his head to the side as a grin spread across his lips.

“Drave?” Vince cooed. “Fuck Draves, there’s bigger…more dangerous prey in these woods.” He cracked his neck and stretched. “There are yetis! Big ferocious man eating beasts the size of bears! They could rip my man Olaf here right in half!” The scholar cackled. “They say it can’t be done, but I’m going to take the head of one back home and prove the Istein University wrong.”

The two men behind Vince put on well-practiced worried expressions as the fidgeted a bit. To the outsider looking in, it seemed like the two were nervous about something. The scholar’s eyes lit up as he spoke.

“They’re the most dangerous game in Salvar!” He exclaimed, stepping forward. “Whattya say? I’ll give you each a thousand sovereigns for helping me kill the beast?”

…

Much, much earlier…

“No.” John grunted eyeing Vincent up and down. He turned back to the work at hand and brought his hammer striking down on molten metal, showering the room with sparks.

“Come on!” Vince moaned. “You have the perfect disguise! It’ll be great!” The scholar cooed sat at the far end of the room eyeing the sparks carefully. “All I need you to do is use the ring and beat the shit out of him! It’s right up your alley!” Vincent’s hands danced wildly as he spoke, as if his gestures were going to win the giant over.

“I have standards.” The giant took another swing and eyed the scholar again. He caught a glint of something diabolical in the scholar’s eyes, something that sent a chill down his spine even as he stood next to a molten forge.

“Pretty please?” Vince cooed rising from his seat.

“The appearance of the please means nothing Vince,” the giant grunted, perhaps the longest sentence the scholar had ever hear him say.

“I’ll make you tacos again!” Vince exclaimed. “This time I’ll have bigger tortillas!”

“No!” The giant growled, turning to brandish the hammer threateningly. “Get out, I’m working.” The giant seethed.

“Fine,” Vince growled as he turned to walk away, “I guess I’ll just have to take all this titanium I bought for my favorite smith and give it back to the dwarves…”

[Fez_The_Kid]

Anubis looked over at Merka and found the elf staring at him. The conversation that followed was speechless, one of the kind wrought through shared time and experiences; at times where, of which both could attest, their next move would be set using the same medium. A thousand sovereigns... he considered, gotta admit, can’t flinch at the sight of extra coin.

But the Salvarian had another thought that ran singly in his conscience. I’d return a thousand and more for your thoughts, Vincent. What more tricks do you have up your sleeve? What’re you planning, exactly? Anubis narrowed his eyes in thought, then felt Merka’s gauntleted hand fall heavily on his shoulder.

Twisting, Anubis’ head turned to stare into the elf’s weathered face. His rose, pale eyes were unwavering. Then he slowly nodded, cementing the Salvarian’s doubts with a firmed grip. Anubis hesitated, turning his attention to the scholar, then said, “We accept your offer.”

A moment later he slipped a small hunting knife from his belt pocket and crouched beside the dead drave. “But first,” he added, putting the blade to the beast’s neck, “we collect the bounty.”

Merka watched as the head parted in a sickening tear, face expressionless as blood gushed from the bared gullet. Then he swung his gaze to Vincent and his flanking bodyguards. Anubis held the prize by its braids, approached his horse. He produced a hooked rope from beneath his cloak and attached it to the fleshy gullet. Wrapping it about the other side, he set the head against the mount’s mottled flank.

The elf's words were blunt. “We are ready,” he announced. “Shall we leave now?”

[redford]

There was a certain pleasantness to the snowy woods of Salvar that John didn't know he missed until he was back in it. The evening's crisp, almost biting air prickled his skin with frozen needles, at least those pieces of him not covered by metal armor and fur. The landscape had a beauty to it, the way an easy wind through the trees dislodged a few flakes of snow piled high on branches, allowing them to float to their next resting place, on another branch or the ground. In all honesty, he could have sat at the base of this tree and allowed his mind to wander, lazily sauntering from one thought to another as the snow piled around him, but there was business to attend to in the forest this evening.

Vincent had found another of the fated cards, or at least Vincent thought he had. In truth, John didn't know how the arcane emperor knew which of the people of Althanas could be fated to join their number, but John had seen enough of Vincent to trust him. He absently chewed his cigar, long ago extinguished by the chilly air. Luckily, the thick fur that now covered him from head to toe kept the cold out. He was thankful again for the ring as he stood. He would be testing this 'Anubis of Skaiva'. Though the final decision rested on Vincent, it was John's responsibility to ensure that the boy could fight, survive in battle.

John, half-covered in snow and cloaked in the shadow of a tree, gazed at the boy he would be gauging, as well as his compatriot. Vince and his entourage were also present across the clearing. As soon as the boy agreed to hunt the yeti, which was of course himself, he would rush them all. He heard the companion to his prey speak.

"We are ready, shall we leave now?"

No, not yet, boy, John thought, rising to his feet and taking a few steps into the clearing, eight feet tall and clad in titanium skin under a thick layer of white fur. Vincent had told him to 'act wild' and to 'be an animal', but the lessons didn't quite stick with him. He simply spread his feet and loosed a vicious roar that shook the air around all of them, and waited for Anubis to notice.

[Fez_The_Kid]

Anubis cocked his head in time to see a massive figure release a blood-curdling roar, thunder that stirred the air and vibrated in his bones. The hulking apparition was all but camouflaged, its massive body sheathed in white fur. Clever. And right on cue, it seems, he mused, frowning at the planned yeti. Ten paces was all it needed to cover the distance between them. His being the one closest to it, Anubis watched from next to his startled horse in silence.

Its face cloaked in white, the yeti was motionless, its breath appearing in misty tendrils. He could sense the weight of its heavy, unyielding gaze; for the monster targeted him, and him alone. Anubis mentally wrapped his head around that thought, felt the marrow in his backbone turn into frost, then shrugged the thought off. He drew on his breath, rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension that had built in his muscles.

"Distract it--" Anubis twisted, glanced at Merka-- "while I prepare Hinvir's Spear." The elf jerked a firm nod, as if the look in his eyes screamed "this is it"; Vincent Cain's plan. This yeti's appearance is no coincidence, and spirits take me if it is. Anubis' gaze fell on the blonde's expressionless face, frowned. Watch me, you two-faced bastard.

Turning again, Anubis suspected that the elf's statement was nothing but a bluff, if only to squash any suspicions from Vincent about the elf's cognizance-- But that doesn't matter. Not anymore. 'Hinvir's Spear' may as well be a made-up move, can't say I heard its name before… Anubis shook his head, hissed under his breath. Damn you all. The Salvarian drew his crossbow, edged forward.

Eyes unwavering on the beast, he loaded a quarrel, bared his teeth--then cocked the weapon. This probably will not so much as prick you. But first attempts always fail, don't they? The quarrel vanished. The string shuddered. A heartbeat later a small iron shaft bounced off the creature's broad chest, only to bury itself within the snow underfoot.

Looks like you're not just flesh and bones. If Merka had implied anything through his previous words, it was that one should always use magic against armored monsters; unless, of course, one was aware of the nature of said armor. "Tell me, yeti," Anubis called, a frown folding his features. Albeit his was a rhetorical question, other than the fact that it would undeniably go unanswered, he asked, "Do you burn?"

[Cards of Fate]

The scholar cocked an eyebrow as John roared. The others all scrambled to action, but Vince could only admire the acting skills of the giant. Sure, he was no Juliard graduate, but he had definitely gone at it with more zeal than expected of him. Running a gloved hand through his hair, the scholar struck a manly pose and pointed at the "foul beast."

"Fearsome yeti!" he exclaimed. "I have come from the south to part your head from your shoulders and make soup out of your brain!" He mentally rolled his eyes at his own stupidity, and then charged. 'This is gonna hurt like hell...' he thought to himself as he ran face first into Johns outstretched fist. Pain erupted across his face as he found himself thrown to the ground, his momentum knocking his legs out from beneath him. The quarrel struck true, but bounced off with a metalic clang from John's armor.

The "Yeti" looked down at Vince and let out a grunt before picking the scholar up by his coat and hurling him across the clearing, his body landing with a savage thunk at the base of a tree. Clenching his eyes shut, Vincent had to do everything in his power to prevent himself from passing out from the pain. Instead he willed his mind to wander from his body through the power of an amulet on his neck. He felt his conciousness touch that of Johns, almost tapping his thoughts as if to be invited in. The giant let out a grunt, and opened his mind to the prying scholar.

'Mind if I watch through your eyes?' Vincent asked telepathically.

'Sure'

With Vincent safely out of the way, the fight was on in earnest now.

'Whoop his ass John, let's see what he's got.'

[redford]

John resisted the smirk that tugged at the edge of his lip as the boy’s arrow glanced off his armor. It would take more than a crossbow to fell their prey this eve. For a moment, there was no sound, naught but John’s breathing fogging the air around him. He could almost see the wheels turning in Anubis’ head. He was smart, and would know that his arrival was more than coincidental. He would also know how to think on his feet. The boy called across the clearing, as if to bolster his own confidence.

“Tell me, yeti. Do you burn?”

This time, John let out a growling chuckle.

Smart indeed, Vincent! He thought, directing the exclamation at the emperor. The boy reacts quickly, but I don’t think he has considered the armor under the fur.

Vincent spoke into his mind. You’ve got armor under there that magically lets you work forges without protection. If ANYBODY considers that on the first go round, they get in the Tarot automatically.

The half-giant reached down into the snow, grabbing a head-sized rock. The boy would likely dodge the rock, but that did not make it ineffective. He drew back, loosing the stone at Anubis, planting a foot in the frozen earth to follow the his opponent’s dodge with a strike of his own. It would be a hard block, but Anubis could make it if he was quick enough.

Then, maybe they would see if he could burn.

[Fez_The_Kid]

Anubis watched Vincent's body whiz across the clearing, its journey ending abruptly as it smacked into one cedar bole in a hefty blow, stirring the snow that had settled on the boughs overhead. The body lay there, still and buried in snow.

From this the Salvarian inferred either of two things; Vincent Cain was an atrocious fighter, or - more likely - he was a plainly bad actor. Regardless, whether this scene had been concocted or not, whatever the mercenary lord planned was deftly eluding the Salvarian. Who discarded his crossbow, the weapon dropping to the snow in a muted thud. He turned and offered Merka a glance, when the renegade elf simply nodded.

Anubis' half-smile then vanished as he twisted in time to see the yeti rise with a rock in its hand, a jagged ball the size almost the size of a man's head. The creature drew back its arm, paused, then jerked its massive arm forward. The rock careened across the glade, tearing through the air and threatening to fell him dead in silence promise.

The Salvarian blinked as its jagged face quickly filled his view, sidestepped as it shot through the space he had just occupied. Anubis spared a glance and saw it miss Merka's shoulder by a hairbreadth, the elf frowning as he stood stock-still, the blades of his hair swaying in its wake. The sound of crumbling bark thundered through the forest behind them.

Eyes widened in shock, Anubis turned as a furred fist closed in fast to meet him. Gasping, he raised crisscrossed forearms barely in time to block the impact, which landed with a jolt that rippled through his arm and sent him several paces back across the clearing.

Dazed, Anubis glanced over from behind his throbbing forearms, a pair of furrows stretching from where the he'd just been standing--inches from the yeti's feet.

Cursing under his breath, the Salvarian reached for the silver sword strapped to his back--and broke into a dash. Both hands gripping the hilt, he reached the motionless yeti, stamped one foot forward and feinted a thrust. Halting the blade an inch from the armored chest, Anubis brought it about as he swung on his heel, turning with the weight in his hand to cut across the creature's wrist.

Where the armor began and ended, Anubis needed to know--thus, he would then learn where his blade would ring, and where it would draw blood.

[redford]

I still don't understand why the cards want him, Vincent, John thought at his companion. True, the boy was a capable fighter, but when compared with some of the other members of the organization, he fell a little flat. But, as the boy feigned a thrust into a slash, John vowed to keep an open mind until the end. After all, the half-giant didn't decide who got into the Hierarchy. In fact, Vincent didn't even decide who got in. It was the cards. He returned his full attention to Anubis, aiming to put him on the ground.

It's impressive, the things you can do when your opponent can't hurt you. The boy's strike rung true against his forearm as he planted his right foot in front of him, and it raked the fur from his metal skin, a sword-sized razor cutting a swath of the hair off to fall like snow. He pushed through, lowering his center of gravity and striking Anubis in the chest with an open palm. He held back on the initial strike in favor of a stronger follow through, and pushed mightily, sending the boy sprawling.

The fur, like a snowflake, drifted to the ground and disappeared. John looked down at the patch of forearm now devoid of fur. He spoke to Vincent in his mind.

He keeps his swords sharp, it seems. He expected the armor to only cover my torso, as well. Smart boy, it was a good thought, even if this situation is the exception rather than the rule.

He smirked a little, the crow-lines around his eyes crinkling a tiny bit as he sunk into a low martial pose, extending one open palm faced up, and his other hand tucked close to his waist. A yeti wouldn't know the pose, and Anubis would be aware of that, but with the boy's last strike, the jig was up anyways. As smart as he was, he would know.

[Fez_The_Kid]

He heard a gasp as the blade rang in his hands - realizing that it was his gasp - and felt, as if out of fear, a shudder sweeping up the weapon's length. He had not expected the metal to armor this creature to such an extent, much less be so durable against his sword. Alas. Even as its massive hand connected with his chest, he could do nothing but brace. Brace, and gauge the extent of the force behind that blow; his vision twisting into a chaotic mess and the air escaping his lungs.

The flight, albeit no more than a span of few seconds, felt like a stretch of warped time. He finally landed in the snow, half-buried and paralyzed. The treetops still spinning overhead, Anubis attempted to draw breath, although only fire filled his throat. Wincing, he pulled himself upright, nothing but his own groans riding the still air.

The yeti had not moved. It stood there - pale, hulking and motionless. It seemed that, he thought, he was witness to a creature that understood, and employed, respect. Anubis rose to a crouched position, pain still throbbing in his chest. He made to stand and realized that he was trembling. Then he finally straightened, nothing short of dumbfounded.

Regardless; This isn't good. Need to avoid every blow, or else someone'll be heading for the last roundup.

He legged a few paces to retrieve his sword, dour gaze unwavering on his opponent. Somehow, the moment he locked his gaze with the creature's, Anubis felt the unfamiliar sensation of being an underdog— Of being intimidated. A reality so strange, so distant... yet there it stood, looking him in the eye.

Thus, he considered, this was a fight he would not - could not - win. The night to come seemed far from a promising one.

Never the less, this would not bend his pluck, his morale, for he tilted his grip on the sword, exposing one side of the blade. Sparks flickered, and metal quickly disappeared in a cloak of fire. If he would somehow challenge this formidable of a monster, a change of strategy was requisite. And this flame-kissed blade, he hoped, would be the epitome of that change.

The hunter edged forward a few paces and halted, for it was time to test the yeti's speed.

[redford]

John thought as the boy rose from the snow, his hands grasping for his sword and his hands trembling. And, as the boy found both his sword and his courage anew, he stood, cautious, but determined. His sword sprung to life with flame lighting the dim clearing, giving it an eerie sort of feeling. The boy's eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, sword upraised.

John admitted to himself that he observed much about the boy in their fight. After all, fighting someone is one of the best ways to know them. But, as his opponent circled slowly, his look held true, and John made up his mind.

You can be smart, you can be fast, you can be strong, but if you don't have the drive to win, the rest of it might as well not be there, eh Vince?

Vince responded in his mind.

"I'll trust you on that one buddy. Now is he in or not?"

"That's up to you, but he's got the right stuff by my count."

Vincent's silence signaled his approval, and John stepped to the side so as to continue facing the boy.

Let's finish it then.

John stepped forward and dragged his foot through the thick snow, bringing it up and casting a cloud of the stuff into the air, perhaps momentarily distracting Anubis. Whether it did or not, John would be punching the cloudy form behind the dispersed snow, hard.

[Fez_The_Kid]

Anubis's hopes to triumph, to survive, shattered.

Marked by the slow, calculating rise of a wispy cloud of snow, once more concealing the yeti. He could do nothing, Anubis realized, to avoid this upcoming assault. Heavy thuds betrayed the yeti's movement, a huge shadow blossoming through the dull, white canopy of suspended snow.

All this transpired within heartbeats. An assail that, as he would soon know, was set to significantly alter the Salvarian's life for ever.

For better or worse.

Merka's breath caught as he detected a subtle cracking sound, even as Anubis was flung across the glade - realized the extent of ruin done by that single blow. An interval that left his heart pounding fast, panic gripping his thoughts.

The blow had been delivered so... quickly. One moment his friend was there, the other he was not.

And there Anubis lay - lost, motionless. Probably hanging to life by a thread. The blow had fully connected with his head.

Vince's plan with this, the renegade realized, was done. Over. Whatever he wanted, he's got it now.

The renegade elf flicked his gaze to where his friend now lay, too far a distance from the previous spot to estimate. He detected no motion from him whatsoever. The question is, what did he want? This 'yeti,' Merka thought as he approached the hopefully unconscious hunter, had immeasurable strength. A full-blown punch from those dukes, as it seemed, would be all but sufficient to kill even him. Slaying it, he then realized, would be exceedingly difficult, if not impossible.

He paused two paces before the body. Anubis bled from his ears and nose, his face half-buried in the snow. A moment later he reached back for his cloak and tore a piece from the fabric, divided them intro three and padded each into the bleeding cavities.

Merka hesitated to turn his gaze, but nonetheless twisted and shot a glare at the culprit. He knew that the damage done was far beyond a fractured skull. That padding would not even so much as stop the bleeding. His efforts were futile.

Alone, the elf simply could not save him.

Anubis had many, many close calls in their time together. None, however, were this serious. And Vincent alone is the one responsible.

The Raiaeran's cold gaze held the blonde, impatience biting at his hands, exhorting them to separate the man's head from his shoulders. To turn him to ash, seperate his flesh from bones.

He still managed, however, to supress his rage. Perhaps what stayed his hand was the sole presence of that yeti, who would pose a frighteningly formidable opponent.

If his intellect could speak, it would have advised him but one thing; to kill Vincent would be to invite a similar fate to that of Anubis. If he, with a clear head, indeed then judged that the mercenary lord deserved death, the slaying would not be here or now.

That, it would seem, required another time and place.

[Cards of Fate]

If the plan had been to kill the prospective agent of fate, Vince would have been patting John on the back and calling the mission right there. To sit and take a direct hit from the massive tower of fur and titanium was almost as dumb as trying to French kiss a freight train. Vince watched the eyes of his friend as the salvarian careened through the air like a rag doll and landed with a thud.

“Fucking Hell…” The Scholar grunted as he forcibly snapped back to his own body and groggily rose from the snow. “I think you broke him.” He rose to his feet and stretched for a moment, ignoring the cold glare from the blade singer. His blue eyes wandered over the crumpled form of the Salvarian for a moment, chewing his lips as he thought the best way to go about how this would go. In all honesty he was disappointed, sure when he’d first joined the Tarot he was nothing special, but this man had shown a fair amount of promise only to end up getting struck in the skull. Even if he didn’t have the reflexes or agility, Vince was well aware of over fifteen different actions the mercenary could have taken to not almost get his skull caved in.

Primarily, he could have ducked.

But that was neither here nor there, and the scholar felt an incredibly pang of guilt as he stared down at the broken man. This was very clearly his fault, and if he didn’t act soon, the Salvarian would die. Tapping his amulet he sent out commands to the others he had brought on the hunt, urging them back to the inn. He then turned his eyes to John, “Drop the disguise and help me pick up our friend here. We need to get him to an Ai’brone.” He stopped and looked the man over again. “Fast.” Without a second thought the scholar snapped his fingers and a portal of blue energy erupted from thin air.

“We’ll discuss more at the House…”

[redford]

He looked down at this boy, Anubis, who would soon learn why John had just thrashed him. he wondered, absently, if the elf would be an addition with him, and if he would hold a grudge against him for the arduous nature of this 'test'.

With a thought, John was no longer covered in fur, but in the metal skin of his armor, and he lifted the boy below him effortlessly as a shimmering blue portal appeared. He cradled the boy's bleeding skull, eyeing his elven compatriot.

He jerked his head toward the blue electric oval. A step later, and he was in the house of cards, the underground facility housing the Tarot. The elf stepped through, and the portal closed, with Vincent already moving books and papers out of the way so he could lay the boy down. In a moment, he was down and Vincent was looking at his head.

[Fez_The_Kid]

Merka watched as the huge man slipped out of his guise - a likeness that had not, as one would presume, saw him increase in either weight or size. After all, the man was unfathomably tall for a human. Perhaps even taller than Merka.

Who had just noted another anomalous oddity; the giant's body was varnished a peculiar, glistening coat of silvery metal-- almost as if skin and armor were one and the same.

Then, without batting an eye, the huge mercenary strode past the elf and paused at the body of his once-adversary. For a moment, he did nothing but study it. Then he leaned down and lifted it from the ground, straightened, visibly unaffected by the weight in his arms. His huge, glistening hands cradled Anubis's head. Ironic, Merka mused, to be pillowed by the hand that had just come near to thumping the life out of you.

Face expressionless, the renegade swung his gaze to Vincent— The real, driving force behind that hand. A troubled look on his face, the patron too was studying Anubis. After a long moment, he suddenly turned and snapped his fingers.

To which a wound of blue power carved itself through the air, sorcery cackling around in frenzied streaks. Merka's initial shock had slightly eased when he'd had learned of the preplanned Ai'brone monk. One of the mysterious lot responsible for the magic behind the infamous Citadel. That, and mending wounds one would have never thought mendable.

In succession, the three disappeared into the portal, leaving him alone in the blood-stained, snow-smothered glade. He made to follow, but for some reason he hesitated, struggled even to discern why. Perhaps because he felt tense in their company? Or was it simply a lack of trust? Only Vincent has the answer to those questions. The only game-changer is that they have Anubis, unconscious. In other words, they'd be free to do with him as they pleased. Unless I act now and follow. The decision is mine.

I have abandoned many of my comrades. Yet... Anubis I cannot, will not, abandon. I must learn what they wish to achieve from this... Merka glanced one final time at the distant, lifeless body of the alpha drake. He felt a tingle of irony prickle his skin, then a moment later turned and stepped into the waning portal.

[Cards of Fate]

"You fucking clobbered him." Vince grunted between gritted teeth. In his hands he had a a rag tenderly pressed against the various scrapes and abrasions that seemed to be leaking blood, attempting to staunch the flow. A soft mix of thumps and scraping entered the room as the door flung open, and a man made entirely of stone stomped in.

"Good gods, what have you two done to this poor man..." The first Ai'brone gasped as he made his way to the table. "I could feel his pain the moment you got here, so I came running." He locked eyes with Vince and scowled. “I don’t know what you were planning, but we will discuss this later.” Vince looked down sheepishly to the injured man before him.

“Understood, until then we have more pressing issues.” Vince muttered.

“Understood.” The Ai’brone grunted. With that he went to work, his fingers glowing as they danced across the man’s skull. “What happened? Did he catch a boulder with his teeth?” The Ai’brone growled. “Almost every bone is his skull has been shattered, it’s a miracle he’s not dead already…”

The scholar let out a soft hiss, trying not to laugh at the Ai’brone’s comment. “Something like that…”

Satisfied Anubis was in proper care, Vince retreated from the table and turned to the elf with raised eyebrows. “Perhaps I should have my friend here explain what this has all been about…” He said gesturing to John. “He might be able to explain it in a way you can understand easier…”

[redford]

"Will he be alright?" the boy asked, sitting down across the room with John as they watched Anubis being treated for his injuries.

"He is in good hands," John said, producing a cigar and offering it to the elf, who declined with a wave of his hand. He continued, lighting his own. "If Vincent thinks we can trust you, then so be it. Listen to me for a moment."

He took a deep breath, wondering just how he would tell him of the Tarot. But the boy needed an explanation, so one he would receive.

"Myself and Vincent, among several others, work to keep balance in Althanas. The scales of order and chaos tip often, and when they do we are there to aid it. Order, the aspects of law and structure; but also the aspects of oppression and conformity. Chaos, the aspects of creativity and freedom, but also the aspects of dysfunction and calamity. Some of us act as agents of order, others as agents of chaos. Good and evil, some call them, but it isn't quite that. Some of us act as agents of balance, and some of us as neither. Fate dictates what roles we play, much like the Tarot deck. Vincent is our emperor, and helps us find new people who can help us maintain this balance."

"And you?" he asked.

"Strength. I evaluated your friend. He did well, by the way."

[Fez_The_Kid]

The snow underfoot had seen him stumble onto an enclosed path of tiled flooring. The harsh breath of the Salvarian backwoods was no more, for the air now was still, too dry for comfort at worst. Merka allowed his eyes to adjust, then quietly spied his surroundings, noting that he was standing at the mouth of some passageway. Somewhere, he suspected, inside a castle. Plain and quiet, the corridor was lit by naught but torches suspended on rusty sconces. Two motionless figures stood a few paces ahead of him: Vincent and the mercenary - Anubis in the latter's arms.

They stood, seemingly waiting, before a wooden door. Neither spoke a word in the interval, where Merka spared a glance behind him and saw that the hallway took a winding curve. No-one else was in sight. They had not traveled far, the elf presumed, from the hunting grounds.

He turned again, and waited.

Noises, and the door was open. They both entered what seemed to be a chamber. Merka wasted no time to follow them in their wake. They had indeed entered a room, and a rather empty one at that; the air inside was surprisingly warm and... soupy. The were was scarce lighting to illuminate the room, naught but a simple torch-lamp hanging from the center. Below it was a flat workbench, its surface mottled with old stains of some red liquid. Behind the bench stood a familiar, hooded figure in wait.

The Ai'brone.

Anubis was laid on the flat desktop. Vincent worded his order to his mercenary, to which the giant stepped up to say something himself. Indeed, the time had finally come when secrets would be uncovered. Their subterranean identity to be revealed. What they, in truth, represented.


When the man was done, Merka saw the monk was already tracing a green aura above Anubis, murmuring phrases in some inexplicable language. The renegade had felt a slight chill the moment he set his gaze upon that table, for it was oddly reminiscent of some certifiable torturer's table. While the thought rose often to nag him, the ex-Bladesinger managed to ignore the horrific scenes that would incessantly, seamlessly - as if rising to thrust him onto a sinkhole of insanity - play out in his mind.

He then asked, "And what do you call your order? Why have you chosen this youth - of all people - to join your syndicate?"

[Cards of Fate]

Vincent took a moment to ponder the man’s question, unsure on wether he should answer truthfully or not. Fate had chosen the young man on the table, not the elf, but it was only fair he supposed. The whole act had been rather…rude. Lies after lies, recklessly endangering the life of a young man who had no clue he was fighting a man rather than a monster. In hindsight the whole scheme seemed childish and half baked, but then again, that was Vincent’s MO these days.

“Hierarchy.” He replied quickly. When the elf looked at him funnily he continued. “We’re a Hierarchy, not a Syndicate. Syndicates imply we’re up to something fishy, like the punks in Salvar. We are a hierarchy.” He paused and rubbed his hands together nervously as he continued. “A Tarot Hierarchy in fact, don’t ask why we’re called that, because it’s a long ass story.”

He turned to the recovering young man for a moment and sighed. “John, stay with these two will you? Let me know when Anubis recovers.” He turned to the giant and smiled. “I’m going to have to write a report on this, if you need me I’ll be in my office.” With that, the scholar was gone, lost to a flash of blue light. The scholar found himself standing in the darkness of his room, briefly lit by his own teleportation before the darkness overtook it. Without needing to see, the scholar found himself sitting at his plush chair behind his desk, reaching for a large bottle of wine. Uncorking it with a loud POP, the scholar took a swig and let the sweet contents wash over his tongue. After a long gulp, the scholar pulled the bottle from his mouth and sighed.

“That could have gone much better.” He mused aloud to himself. “But I could have gone worse…”

[redford]

As Vincent flashed away, John was left wondering how the boy would take the particular nature of his 'initiation'. One thing was clear though, the Ai'bron tending to Anubis was not happy.

"You really must stop all this injuring people and such, John."

John replied quickly. This was how it went after fights with him or training. The conversation was practically scripted.

"You'd be out of a job, then, wouldn't you?"

"Oh hush, the world always needs healers, doesn't always need warriors."

John smiled weakly at their light banter, but that last remark always hit a little closer to home than he wanted it to. He snuffed his cigar on the arm of his oversized chair.

"That's what you think, old man."

The monk returned his attention to Anubis, cradling his head and humming some alien tune, he never did let on if it aided the healing or just his concentration.

Same thing, I suppose, he thought, turning his attention to the elf.

"We make real differences in the world, we can be agents of real, tangible change for Althanas. Maybe I shouldn't have nearly killed your friend, but there's no space for error here. It's my job to make sure that everyone Vincent selects can defend themselves, and others."

The monk interrupted him.

"It appears your friend, and opponent, is awake." Anubis opened his eyes weakly, and Merka rose, quickly lifting his shoulders as Anubis lifted a hand to his forehead. John stood before him and offered a massive forearm to his fellow Salvarian.

"Good job, Anubis."

[Rayleigh]

Thread: A Most Dangerous Game
Participants: Cards, Fez, Red
Type: Workshop

Congratulations!

Cards receives 1740 EXP and 160 GP.
Fez receives 1460 EXP and 160 GP.
Red receives 970 EXP and 95 GP.

[Rayleigh]

All rewards have been added!