Good Intentions ((Open))

[Skylar]

((Open to 2 other people.))

"All ashore!"

The yelling sailor's voice echoes down the hallway outside of Skylar's room and snaps him awake inside his private cabin. A couple of seconds pass before he begins to recognize the wooden room assembled much like a common inn's guest suite. The sound of feet creaking the board above his head meant the boat was docked and people were gradually, although noisily, making their way to solid ground. My long trek to the Corone-Scara Brae ferry must have been a little more taxing than I originally thought he thinks to himself, yawning and rolling his shoulders to stir his still sleeping body from its restful coma before he began to gather his equipment. It was time to thank The Hidden One for another day.

Being part of the Church of the Ethereal Sway certainly has its benefits, Skylar marks as he emerges from below deck, nodding to the guard who moves out of his way to let him through. The herd of people who had been standing above deck was now all but gone. The oceanic wind blows past Skylar's face, rustling his long silver pony-tailed hair which rests down between his shoulderblades. Skylar had not been to the ocean until this day, and he was thoroughly enjoying the new experience. The blessings of the Hidden One are neverending Skylar thinks with a smile. It was around this time that Skylar realized that he was still walking forward, but too late to stop himself from hitting the railing of the boat. The rail sends his body lurching forward, the weight of his breastplate urging him along, but a hand appears on on his shoulder quite suddenly and equals out the weight. With his own fingers on the rail now, he pushes himself backward and with a bit of effort ends back on his feet and sturdy ship floorboard.

Skylar exhales with relief and turns to the hand who had kept him from being thrown overboard. It was a wrinkly one, and so was the man who owned it. The man bore a smile, a thin one full of pleasantry. His eyes were hazel, showing warmth and experience, ones which gazed deeply but were nevertheless unintrusive. His clothes were simple, gray britches and a stretched muscle shirt which seemed bigger on him, but led the watcher to believe the old man's body used to fill it to buldging proportions in days past. He wore no shoes.

"Thank you, sir. I am much indebted to you." Skylar says, bowing his head reverently to the man much more elder than he. If there was any sort of teaching that Skylar had retained from his father, it was to always remain respectful to the old.

"Oh, no worries, son," He says, holding out a calloused hand in greeting. Skylar meets it with a firm shake, "But you sure should watch yourself. Wouldn't do for a young man in such ornate clothing like yourself to be flapping in the water below like a babe in a bathtub, heh heh." His chuckle reveals a toothy grin.

"All ashore!"

Skylar turns his head to the sailor, who was impatiently urging the rest of the stragglers off the ship. "Wouldn't due for ya to keep the ol' boy waitin', eh there young one?" The old man remarks, winking with his grin ever present as if he had never left boyhood.

"Yes, yes you are right..." Skylar quickly begins to make his way to the exit platform, before he stops and turns back to the old man. "May the Hidden One's hands always be upon you!" says Skylar earnestly as he begins his way off the ship. The wind of the ocean to his back, the town of Scara Brae stretched out before him, bustling with activity. It was time for Skylar to find the City Guard.

[Seether]

Reann sniffed at the air.

Humans. Elves. Dwarves. All of them. The scents of their clothes, their sweat, their perfume, filled his nostrils and sent his vision swirling.

He sneezed.

Dammit, he thought as he rubbed his sensitive nose. It's been a long time.

Indeed, perhaps a year since he had even smelled another person, much less seen them. And now that he had reemerged from his forest hiding place to enter into the city of Scara Brae, he was getting a nose and eye full. Not to mention an ear full too. After the quiet of the forest, even a flys buzz seemed loud. He couldn't imagine how he was going to survive this.

After adjusting the knives on his forearms and the bow and quiver on his back, the wolf-hybrid crouched down onto all fours and slowly ambled up to the nearest gate guard. The gate, although perhaps it should more effectively be called a overly large door designed to admit or dismiss four or five people abreast, was standing wide open and on either side were two pairs of men dressed in fine wools with simple, but elegant bronze breastplates strapped on. They each carried a long boar spear, the tip polished till it shone in even the dullest of lights, and held a small buckler, strapped tightly to their left forearm so that they could wield their spears with both hands. They looked dangerous but in truth, if on could get around that pointy spear they held, they were fairly easy meat. Their tactics were that of a phalanx, and phalanx's only worked if the attacked stayed on the business end of that pike.

The guard that Reann approached gave him a studious glance, taking his weapons, posture and size and immediately dismissed him as any real threat. This was exactly what the wolf-hybrid wanted; no trouble and to keep it that way for the duration of his stay.

"Excuse me sir," the wolf-hybrid said, as he stood to his full height in front of the guard. "I was hoping you could direct me to the nearest well to do Inn establishment."

The gate guard gave him another once over, then pointed into the city and to the right. "About two blocks that way, over by the docks. Golden Swan. Next to the city garisson, can't miss it."

The wolf-hybrid nodded thankfully. "Thank you good sir, may you have a pleasant day."

The guard nodded and gave the wolf-hybrid a small bow. "The same for you kind sire, enjoy your stay."

The wolf-hybrid resumed his all fours stance and shuffled into the city and headed toward where the guard had pointed him. The sounds and smells of the city pummeled his nose and ears to the point where he began to develop a small headache.

How was he going to stand this, for very much longer, he couldn't say.

[Skylar]

"Excuse me, can you tell me--"

"Hello, I need some help, you see--"

"Hi, I am new here, would you be so kind--"

Skylar was now frustrated. Five entire minutes at the docks, trying to get anyone to answer a question had really wore on his patience. The rushing traffic of sailors loading ships full of wheat and fishing boats removing their catches didn't seem to have the time of day for the heretic hunter. Skylar calmed down as he began to recall what Deacon Veronius had told him and why he was here in the first place.....



"Scara Brae will be a wonderful place for you to grow, Initiate Silverlake," Vernon says complacently, tearing a piece of turkey from the leg in his hand.

"But, Deacon, I came here to study and learn to be a priest like yourself. How will going to that small island further my connection to the Hidden One?" Skylar's bright blue eyes look questioningly at the eating deacon, popping a baby tomato into his mouth. He continues to chew as he talks. "You must learn not to question the ideas of your superiors, Initiate Silverlake. What you do not realize is that there is much in the world for you to experience. There are those who choose to prey on the helpless, and sometimes, those individuals will not listen to the mouth of a mere conjoling priest."

Taking in the words attentively, Skylar looks down at the mace at his hips. The flanged edges on the steel head were sharp, almost as if blades. Such a weapon was best suited not to disarm or knock out, but rather maim or even smash and pierce a person's skull.

"So, it is those weapons we have supplied for you that will sometimes be necessary." He stops to take another bite, his chubby cheeks stretching as his mouth closed upon the side of the leg and tore into it.

"But, Deacon Veronius, surely you do not condone the killing of another human being. It would not be the way of the Hidden one."

The deacon, at this, begins to choke on a piece of the turkey, but with a heaving gutteral cough he manages to spit it back onto his plate. His red flustered face peers up at the surprised and somewhat worried Skylar. He drops the turkey leg onto the floor and it rolls against the floor toward the opposite side of the room. There was no gentleness in Veronius's face. "You dare presume to think you know the intentions of the Hidden One, even more than I?? You are a mere initiate, boy, keep that in mind. Have you not read the Gospel? Letter XXVI? It clearly goes through the story of St. Denebriel single-handedly smiting those who attempting to raze this very cathedral. Or have you forgotten?"

Skylar does not muster a word. Nor, could he. He had never had any intention for working up Deacon Veronius to such a point. He was a fool to speak of such things as if he was a deacon himself. He did not even have a class as of yet; just a mere initiate. Skylar bows his head as low as he can, closing his eyes.

"I am very sorry, Deacon Veronius. I meant no offense....."

"It is fine," the deacon says brusquely as he inserted the last tomato into his mouth. He chews it forcefully. "But you must remember that this is not your old life, Skylar. You are no longer a noble, a man in line of one of the lords in the League of Salvic States. You are one of our own, but only an initiate thus far. Humbleness must be learned." The old priest picks up his plate and hands it to Skylar and points with his other hand at the dropped turkey leg. Turning to it, Skylar acknowledges his duty and he bends over, picking up the half-chewed-through piece of meat and slabs it onto the plate.

"Now," Veronius continues, "You are to go to Scara Brae and join up with the City Guardsmen that are stationed there. They have been having a rather rough time with some ruffians there, and it will be a great place for you to bolster your skills. Don't you agree, Initiate?"

Skylar gets to his feet, the plate in hand. Though something seemed to be conflicting inside his heart, he nodded. "Yes, Deacon Veronius. You are right. I will attempt to be a better Initiate for the Hidden One. I will learn humility."

"Good, good." A curt smile appears upon the deacon's face. "Now, go and fetch me another leg, would you?"


"Blast it!"

Finally through with trying to find help from random strangers, Skylar huffs in annoyance and begins to walk closer to town. More people bustling in, fish markets making announcements of their special deals and people rushing other to take a look. Others just walking around, speaking amongst one another. Looking towards town, the closest landmark that Skylar could see was a building with a yellow swan on top of its roof. Figuring that would be the next big step, Skylar begins to walk towards it, surveying the city as he does.

This place was certainly not as big as Knife's Edge, but as small as it was, there were plenty of people all around. Elves, dwarves, and other things Skylar had never even seen before were in as high in presence as the humans were. A degree of uncomfortability came with this concept. Humans were all Skylar had ever dealt with. How would these other races treat him? How was he to respond to them all? Did they even converse in Tradespeak?

Through the crowd and Skylar's dashed throughts, he clearly forgets to check where his feet are going, and his foot goes stamping towards the leg what seemed to be a wolf. He tries to stop himself, but he might very well have stepped on the wolf's paw by accident. He doesn't stop to check but he does stumble back some, alert and just about ready to draw his mace before he sees the face of the wolf. It seemed...human-like. Fur fully covered it, but it seemed to be wearing a pair of gray pants. Another one of those strange races, perhaps. Skylar halts his offensive behavior, stiffening up and looking to see if he had hurt the creature.

"I um.....I am sorry, I was preoccupied.....are you ok.....uh, sir?"

[Seether]

His headache only got worse the deeper he got into the city and it wasn't just because of the noise, scents and sights.

Instead of a quick jaunt up the two city blocks to the Inn the gate guard had suggested, the wolf-hybrid found that walking in the city after being so long away from it, was slow going. The forest, despite its dense compilation of trees, shrubs, vines and bushes, didn't have many moving parts and those parts that did move, normally avoided that other part that was moving. A city however, was filled with many moving parts and these moving parts were usually attracted to one another and when they met, there was usually some sort of confrontation. Either it was to say hello, or simply to pass by but either way, it created something called congestion. Congestion meant clogging, clogging meant slowing down, and slowing down meant that the wolf-hybrid was having a hard time getting where he wanted to be. Coming from a place such as the forest, where the wolf-hybrid knew how to move, it was an annoying culture shock.

Finally, after what seemed a ridiculously long amount of time, the wolf-hybrid came within sight of the Inn he was pointed toward. It quickly be apparent though, that fate had different plans for the wolf-hybrid.

He saw the man first and just in time too, as the fellow wasn't paying any attention to where he was walking and very nearly ran him over. He came too just before he was about to step on the wolf-hybrids toes and leapt back in surprise. The wolf-hybrid had anticipated all of this however and had already stepped back, but the man none the less spoke in apology as if he had stepped on the wolf-hybrids foot.

The wolf-hybrid raised his hands in a dismissive manner. "Yes yes, I'm quite all right. You on the other hand, look rather lost. You new here, or just having a bad day?"

The wolf-hybrid tried his best to not make his smile look menacing but when a wolf-hybrid showed fangs, it was a difficult feat to suggest otherwise. Fangs just had a way of looking none to friendly like.

The sign over the Golden Swan swung tantalizingly in the air, beckoning the wolf-hybrid toward it but he put it from his mind for the moment. Besides, a little bit of reasonable conversation never hurt anyone and despite his not liking being where he was, the wolf-hybrid felt a strange need to talk to someone. Perhaps his humanity wasn't so far gone as he had originally thought.

[Skylar]

Good, they DO speak Tradespeak. That's a relief.

Skylar nearly panicked as he almost blurted out that thought. Its....well, his teeth bare as something resembling a smile appeared on his face. The experience was all too new to him, these strange races of Dwarves and Elves and Lupine-ilk. They all seemed rather dangerous, but Skylar knew that this was the way the Hidden One created the world. He could not fear those different then him, just as Saint Thramus had taken in the leper orphans of what was known of today as Knife's Edge. Divine teachings or no, this being was not something to be on the bad side of.

"Both," is Skylar's reply, somewhat delayed by Skylar getting is bearings. Skylar had caught the tail end of the lupine's words, but the hub-bub and conversations going on all around had drowned out the rest. The Golden Swan was right nearby. Skylar speaks close to the wolf-man, close enough to hear without too much problem, and motions towards the establishment laid out next to them.

"You were heading here too, am I correct? Come, let us vacate to a more quiet premises."

And with that, Skylar turns himself to the inn and begins to part through the crowd, which seemed to be lessening as the time passed. As he came closer to it, it was apparent that this inn was no ordinary establishment. Skylar had been to many inns on his trips to make it to this particular island of Scara Brae all the way from Salvar. Some had been comfortable and quaint, others rat-infested and full of unsavory types looking to drown their sinful life in gluttony. But this one was much different. On the sign, in ornate gothicized italics, were the words "The Golden Swan" written in the appropriate shade of color. Right above those letters there sat, as if on a royal throne to gaze over the entire port, a swan statue of a most shiny gold sheen. There was no question; only gold of the purest karat would reflect the sun so vividly, as a boy growing up around riches such as he would know. How on earth an inn would pull in enough money to afford it was beyond Skylar, but to get out of the sun, the heat, and the crowded docks was his first priority.

After clearing the double doors, it became apparent that this place was much bigger than the outside let on. A grand bar stretched out from next to the door to all the way to the other side of the room, 50 feet of polished, laquered oak bar. The tables were numerous and dotted the room that expanded before him, with women serving drinks and meals to the groups of people filling a good bit of the tables. There was a small gallery area as well which overlooked the entire establishment. At the end of the bar, on the other side of the room, was a set of stairs, leading down and up. Those were where the actually rooms for guests were, Skylar gathered. All in all, a grand establishment albeit overdone for a simple inn, but the thought did not occur to Skylar. He finds a couple of vacant seats at the bar, and sits down waiting for his wolfen acquaintance. When they both are in their seats, the heretic hunter turns to the wolf-man. Now up close, Skylar could see the eyes that reflected the color of the summer sun in midday. Extraordinary. Finally, he speaks.

"Again, I apologize for my clumsiness. You would be right in the fact that I am new here. I am also not quite used to those of..... your kind," Skylar admits. Feeling a bit awkward, Skylar turns to find the nearest bartender, and attempts to motion one of them over. Busy with their individual orders, none responded. Skylar turns back to his acquaintance.

"I am Skylar, an initiate of the Church of the Ethereal Sway." He holds his hand out in greeting. The wolf-man's hands were rather more like paws with their fur, but Skylar attempted to block out that fact."Would you happen to know where the headquarters of the City Guard would be?"

Whilst talking, Skylar attempted to look out another bartender. He was dreadfully thirsty, and his new aquaintance seemed a little distressed himself. Buying him a quick drink would hopefully smooth out the uneasiness Skylar might have created. After all, he didn't want to ruin a possible friendship with the only person who gave him mind.

((I didn't want to waste any more time outside, so I hope you don't mind the bunnying. By all means let me know if it gets your goat :) ))

[Seether]

((Bunny approved, and if you've stolen my goat...))

Licking his lips and trying to buy himself some time, the wolf-hybrid flagged down the near by bartender and motioned that he wanted two drinks. Moments later the grossly over weight man reappeared with two filled mugs, the aroma of sweet ale permeated the air around the man and the wolf-hybrid sighed hungrily. He had forgotten how sweet ale could smell, despite its noticeable sour after punch. He accepted the mug with clutching hands and pushed the other toward the man with his elbow. He then proceeded to bury his entire face in his mug and drank deeply.

After a few seconds, and about three-quarters of his mug later, the wolf-hybrid set his mug down with a long, drawn out and heavy sigh. Smacking his lips and smiling broadly, the wolf-hybrid shifts his attention from the quarter filled mug to the human sitting beside him.

"Civil Guard headquarters?" The wolf-hybrid paused and then pretended to think for a moment, tapping his chin with a furry finger. To be honest, he hadn't the slightest idea but seeing as this human was probably as lost as he was, the wolf-hybrid decided that maybe any legitimate sounding answer was better than a simple 'I don't know.'

"Best I can give, is to tell you to head to the nearest gate." He stretched his back, rolling his shoulders as he spoke. He was starting to loosen up and his headache had been steadily fading. "The guards there should be able to point you in the right direction. I myself am new here," the wolf-hybrid smiled broadly at no one in particular, his eyes roving around on the far wall adjacent to the counter top. "New out from the forests, still trying to reorient myself to the city life." The wolf-hybrid leaned back on his bar stool, gazing coolly around the room and at its contents before stretching loudly. "Probably best to trhhhhhhhy," the wolf-hybrid slouched heavily into his seat, his arms sprawled out on the counter top, on hand clutching his mug, as his mouth opened in a wide yawn. "Hyaaaaahhhhhhhh, hmmph hmn hm, the gate I came in through, back up the block there where we met." His free hand lazily pointed in the general direction. He yawned one more time before sitting up straight and rubbing his face with his free hand. "But, enough of that," the wolf-hybrid said as he extended the hand he used to wipe his face over his other arm toward the human. "Name's Eireann, you may call me Reann if you'd like. It was a pleasure to meet you, Skylar of the Church of Eternal Sway."

If his smile showed teeth this time, the wolf-hybrid didn't care. That ale was beginning to warm his empty stomach and if he remembered correctly, it was that if one drank on an empty stomach, it usually went straight to their head.

[Skylar]

Eireann. Quite a name. It sounded much more civilized than any other name Skylar might have guessed, like Jojo, Rex, Buster or something along that nature. He frowned a bit at this thought, becaused it occured to him that each of them were all dogs he had once owned. He was glad to not say such things aloud, unlike many of his noble "friends" might have. Those with power always liked to see the lesser folk get riled up before they called up their guard to carry them out, red-faced and screaming for blood while the snot-nosed princes would watch the entire affair with an almost sick grin on their faces or laugh the while away.

Watching this new friend drink, he was clear that the taste of sweet ale was a drink less experienced to him, downing most of the thing the span of mere seconds. For most other people this would have been a sin of gluttony, but in Skylar's eyes it was more like the experience of a child discovering chocolate chip cookies for the first time, and he couldn't help but smile a little. This man seemed jovial enough, nice enough to offer advice even though he himself was at a lose at where he was at. His smile was a little less disconcerting too, now that they had talked and it was becoming more apparent that this was his equivalent to a smile.

"Eireann it is. Thank you for the information, my friend."

Skylar met Eireann's smile with his own, and nods his head in agreeance to his last sentence, taking his sips of ale with moderation and ease. A creature of the forests, he had said. Among the Salvar lands, trees were less abundant because of the weather, and the areas that did have trees were mostly evergreens, prickly pines and stuff spruces. He could hope to take some time in this more temperate climate to visit the woods around here and behold more of the wonders He set upon us.

"Well, if all goes according to plan, I will be around here for a while yet. Perhaps one day you could show me around the forest you have been in? I being from Salvar, there are less abundances of those green giants."

He hoped for a yes, Skylar was certainly no nature man, but either way he would make a trip to the forests at some point. Finally finished with his ale, he places the silver needed to pay for Eireann's and his own drink.

"In any case, you have been an invaluable help. I must thank you, and I know our paths will cross again. May the Hidden One bless you with all your endeavours."

With another warm smile to the person he had gladly befriended, Skylar rolls his shoulders a little, his weapons on his back rattling from the disturbance, before sets his feet on the ground and prepares to stand up. He would have too, but a voice rising up from above the humdrum bar chatter stops him.

"'Oi bud, wot's with da mutt on de stool?"

Skylar turns his body, peering over his right shoulder to see who exactly was sporting the odd accent. What he got at first was an eyeful of a raggedy purple vest, chesthair billowing out of the unbuttoned center, and a sword fastened hap-hazardly to the left hip. It was after taking consideration to look up that Skylar got to see where exactly the words had originated from. A large head towering at what had to be six and a half feet tall standing only a few inches away from them looking down at the furred figure sitting next to Skylar with a dumb, amused grin on his face. His visage was accompanied with lots of scarring. A scraggled black beard hung 3 inches below his chin, in which one of his hands mussed around toyingly. It was obvious this man wasn't a lady-killer. At least, in the metaphorical sense the word. Taken aback by the site of the behemoth of the man and the nature of the words, Skylar blurted out the only thing that came to mind.

"Pardon?"

The behemoth's gaze locks on to Skylar, frowning at him.

"Ya daft, bud? I's talkin' 'bout da dog you gots in that chair next to ya." The giant looks over at the bartender, who had just become aware of the situation and had a somewhat nervous look on his face, as if expecting something. "You lettin' dogs in da joint now, Jim? Ya know ol' Harvey ain't gonna shine wit' dat." The bartender, a young man who was probably more or less a newly hired hand, wasn't taking to the situation too well. As if to drown out all the words he began to polish any glass that came into his hand, sometimes the same one two or three times in a row.

"Gotta admit, dat's a nice trick there, bud, gettin' a mutt ta sit at a counta."

Laughs began to echo from a table situated all the way across the room. Skylar began to catch on to where this all was going to go to. A bunch of bullies in a bar, it was truly cliche, but nonetheless it was happening and Skylar wasn't about to let this erupt into violence.

"That's quite a sense of humor," Skylar musters. He equips on himself a trained pleasant smile, although none as friendly as one he would show to a true friend, and puts his left hand on Eireann's shoulder, soft but firm-like. "Please do not mind us, sir, we were just on our way you see."

With that, Skylar stands up, and calmly begins to approach the door of the Golden Swan's exit, hopefully with Eireann in tow. The teachings of the Ethereal Sway were to strive for avoidance rather than suffer with violence. He just hoped that his new friend thought the same.

[Seether]

Reann was left to stare blankly at his hand, Skylar having gone on to more important and otherwise conversational like subjects. The wolf-hybrids ears perked at the words "forest" and "green giants" and he turned his golden eyes up lazily, before jerking himself upright.

"Muh, oh, hummm, yes, forests. Not a problem, perhaps..." His words trailed off from the tip of his tongue as, from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a man staring at him. Not the stare of someone who had simply been caught off guard by his appearance, but the stare of someone who didn't like seeing what they were seeing, and was about to do something about it. Reann gulped and quickly looked away from the man, failing to catch what Skylar said next.

Then the man spoke, his accents heavy and his speech slurred. He was obviously drunk and plainly delirious because of this, so this made understanding his words difficult but they came across clear enough.

Reann twisted in his seat and was just about to say something in retort when Skylar said something first. Words again failed on his tongue and the wolf-hybrid was left to watch as the man shifted his attention to Skylar, leaving Reann with his hand half-raised toward him, mouth partly ajar and his eyes slightly narrowed. The man then shifted his attention again, but this time to speak behind the two of them, toward the bartender. Then his words were once again diverted toward them and once again, Reann was about to speak a piece of his mind but Skylar beat him too it. To further prevent him from speaking, Skylar placed a hand gently on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly, staying his tongue and calming his steadily fraying nerves.

Usually I'd be yelling by now, regardless. Reann let his eyes wander to the, now empty, mug of ale. Perhaps it had been just enough to loosen him up a bit.

At that moment, something Skylar had said earlier finally clicked and Reann opened his mouth in a silent "Oh."

The Church of Eternal Sway, that's where he said he was from. Now I remember, those are those fellows from the far northern regions, Salvar I think. Seems to be, that I recall hearing some place that those guys hate confrontations and will usually try to settle them peacefully. Cross them too many times however, and they'll leave you to the carrion birds.

Skylars hand left his arm and Reann re-awoke suddenly to the real world. Skylar was walking toward the door, the men who had been speaking watching him as he walked. There attention wouldn't be held for long however. For once Skylar left, it would be just Reann again. The wolf-hybrids eyes widened slightly and he gasped.

"Buhh, uhhh, hey! Wait up," he shouted as he slammed down a single silver piece onto the counter, noticing too late that there were already silver pieces sitting on it, and scrambled off of his stool, bolting toward the door. He nearly didn't make it, as a foot simply materialized out of nowhere in front of him. He would have been sent sprawling if not for the fact that he had been kind of expecting this, coming from men who naturally hated or simply didn't or refused to understand his kind. The result of his anticipation however, was for him to windmill his way through the front door at near break neck speed and stumble out into the street, finally stopping some three or four paces from the entrance.

After some considerable dusting of his thighs and knees, and making sure that no one was staring and further seeking to tease or otherwise embarrass him, the wolf-hybrid turned toward a now emerging Skylar.

"Whew, tough crowd. Umm, well, I guess that tour of yours got bumped up a notch eh? Umm," the wolf-hybrid turns a quick circle in the street, searching for the path which he had taken, obviously eager to be away from that place. "This way, yes, this way I believe. Quickly now, follow me. Civil Guard here don't take much kindly to brawls and they'll question anyone who's near by this place, regardless if they were involved. Best we move," the wolf-hybrid dropped to all fours and scampered a small bit forward, then paused to sniff the air. "Yes, move along." He then waved his hand at Skylar, pointing.

"Quickly now, this way."

As it was nearing mid-day the streets were slightly less packed as they were when Reann first entered the city. Still full for sure, but slightly less. It would only get worse as the afternoon wore on, but for now people were off to the sides or indoors enjoying their meal. The city was strangely quiet but the wolf-hybrid hardly noticed. He just wanted to get away from the Golden Swan, and fast.

"Come on," he whispered hoarsely, urging Skylar to follow him as he made his way steadily, but quickly, up the street away from the Swan.

[Skylar]

Skylar couldn't believe that he was relieved to be once again meshed with the passing masses of people. He did prefer the smell of seaside air as compared to the somewhat stagnant smell of ales and human sweat. The incident still ran through his mind, putting a skip into the pounding of his heart. The echoes of snorts and cacklings as the two made their hasty exit was still fresh on his ears. It was sad that people acted in such ways, but among the friends he had made at the Silverlake estate, it wasn't a rare occurance. After witnessing those events, the red fires of anger would develop in Skylar's chest, rising to his head and wanting to take over, before thoughts and words from his brother would bring him back to earth. Simon had always been the wise one, despite his being younger in age and his lack of life experiences that his sickness was responsible for. The thoughts of his brother again bring both a smile to his face but a sagging of his eyes, a bereaved smile from happiness and of worry. No telling how his father would be treating him now.

Realizing that there was a kind of awkward silence between the two of them, Skylar puts his head closer to Reann's as they slide around a person coming from the other direction. Skylar had to wonder if Reann had to feel right now. Skylar figured this might not be the first excursion his being wolf-like might have spawned, and searched for the right words to console or maybe calm any inner sparks of animosity.

"Well, that inn was a four-star bust, was it not?"

Skylar soon remembered that jokes were not his forte, but he was at a loss for what else to say. Instead of his polite smile, his face took on a thoughtful frown, figuring he should go with a more serious approach, which is the way he always tried to handle situations such as this.

"I am saddened that this conflict was my first experience here in this town. It seems that people, no matter the country, still have many steps to go when it comes to the ideas of equality and acceptance. You have my sympathies, Eireann, and my assurance that I will always treat you with the respect and decency every person deserves." Skylar's hand sweeps around, gesturing grandly towards all the people doing their chores or entering their house for an afternoon lunch, or children playing upon stoops with sticks for sword, or thin-looking men wearing a hood over their head as they layed against an alley wall for an afternoon nap. "For we are all the Hidden One's children."

After a few minutes of following his wolfen friend, Skylar finally gazes upon what seemed to be the gates to the city. A stone wall, stretching far and wide with huge wooden doors studded with slivers of steel. They were wide open with pairs of guards dutifully watching the outside for any signs of hostility to stab with their spears or friendly approaches of merchants or other visitors.

"Would this be them?"

He turns to the half-breed, hoping to hear a positive answer. Walking around somewhat aimlessly had already wearied him out, and he wanted to get to his assignment as soon as possible.

[Seether]

The wolf-hybrid sniffed the air.

Something was wrong. Something felt wrong.

He couldn't quite place it as he cautiously approached the gate guards, but he could feel it squarely between his shoulders. It was like an inch he couldn't reach and even if he could, he wouldn't be able to scratch it. He rolled his shoulders, opting to simply place it as uneasiness after that incident back at the bar and looked back toward Skylar.

"Aye, that's them. Wait up here and I'll go ask 'em. Or you could follow, up to you."

Righting his head square with what was in front of him, Reann lopped on all fours up to the nearest gate guard. There he waited patiently for the man to finish his conversation with another well to do citizen, then proceeded with his own question.

"Excuse me, sir?" The guard turned to regard him with pale, blue colored eyes that almost looked sad, and very nearly bored.

"Yes Citizen?" His tone said he was bored, but for some reason his eyes suddenly flashed in recognition. Perhaps he was the guard that Reann had first spoken too? The odds were slim. Reann seemed to recall they rotated the guard every fifteen minutes or so. No matter, he thought. He'll still answer my question all the same.

"Could you point me in the direction of the Civil Guard Headquarters?" Reann tried his best to put on a winning smile; his fangs botched the attempt and he was sure it came off as almost a sneer. The guard didn't seem to notice, instead pointing up the street in the opposite direction of where they had approached. His eyes never changed however, and for some reason that were become more and more alert.

"That way," was all he said before diverting his attention to another citizen. His eyes however, occasionally flickered back toward the wolf-hybrid.

Odd. Reann, having finished his business with the man, turned back to Skylar. "Well, he says that way." He pointed in the same direction the guard had. "I've no intention of waiting around over here, so I think I'll walk with you a ways." He smiled and began to step forward.

Abruptly there was a loud crash as a door slammed open, followed shortly there after by the clatter and clanging of armor and weapons. Reann, startled by the sudden commotion, turned slightly to see what was happening and almost wished that he hadn't. There behind him, dressed in full battle attire, were two Knights of the Scara Brae military. One lifted his armored arm, pointing directly toward the wolf-hybrid.

"Guards, seize those men!" The Knights voice rang like a thunder crack, shaking the wolf-hybrid to his bones and stunning him where he stood. "They are wanted on charges of assault, battery and theft of the citizens of the city!"

The wolf-hybrid blinked. Someone screamed and then everything happened at once.

The two Knights pulled their swords from their scabbards and charged toward Skylar and Reann, their eyes tiny glowing orbs of death beneath their helms. Something flickered to the wolf-hybrids left and he looked over just in time to avoid getting his face smashed in by the butt end of the gate guards long spears.

What the - Twisting to further avoid being hit the spear, the wolf-hybrid clawed at the ground, trying to escape. He didn't get far. Something flickered to his right and from the corner of his eye he made out the dark shape of a flying pot.

It was the last thing he saw before the inky black of unconsciousness washed over his body, wrapping him in its cold, deadly embrace.

((Story line alteration, approved.))

[Skylar]

It was all happening so fast.

Terrifying yells, swords drawn, clanging of armor, spears being swung, pottery shards raining everywhere, a scream, a grunt of pain, Reann's body collapsing to the ground. The young priest-in-training was inexperienced in violent events like these. His heart felt just about able to jump out of his chest and run off like his legs were wanting to do. But, his eyes caught a glimpse of the unconscious Reann, and there wasn't a part of him that would stand for letting his partner in "crime" go through this alone. In any case, being pincered between two heavily armored Scara Brae knights and a multitude of freshly motivated guards didn't allow much for an escape route. Skylar flings his arms high above his head, nearly panic-stricken and unable to get his bearings.

"Please do not hurt us! We are no criminals!"

The knights swords pierce the air, stopping a mere couple inches away from Skylar's quivering throat. He feels a long barb-like object, perhaps a spearhead, press against the small of his back, just at the spine. Added insurance. Three other spears remain situated towards the wolfen body sprawled upon the dusty ground on careful watch for any sudden moves. Shards of hard clay lay scattered all around Reann. One of the knights sheathes his sword with amazing speed and begins a rough job of disarming Skylar, pulling his mace out and undoing his flail. The one keeping Skylar's neck in check gives a cold gaze that throws icy chills up his spine and begins to speak with a rapid and very commanding voice.

"You have been charged with theft of goods of the establishment of the Golden Swan. You have also been charged with the assault and battery of one of its employees."

Before Skylar can even make a single utterance, a couple of figures emerges from the side of a building on the next street, making their way at a somewhat slow pace. One seemed to be limping. Skylar began to piece together their forms through the afternoon sun that was at their backs and when he finally could make them out, he let out something of a gasp. It was the bartender, being helped along by a skinny looking guard. However, this time the bartender was much different than before. Namely, the bruises that were beginning to welt along his cheek and the little stream of blood making a trickle down the right corner of his mouth. His eyes were also a little puffy, and his golden brown hair was harrassed and unkempt. As the two came into talking distance, the guard helping him walk looked at Skylar and Reann's body with a fierce judgemental glare, then back at the ailing bartender.

"Is this them, Jim? Are these the guys that did it?"

"...........I.........."

Jim's eyes shifted around the town, darting towards every direction like a person with a tweaking paranoia. His eyes made a stop at a direction which Skylar couldn't see (it is terribly difficult to rotate one's head with a sharp pointed object just about lodged in your throat by a violent-looking individual). Jim's eyes open wide for a brief half of second, then he turns to look at Skylar with a glance, overcome with pain and fear. But there was something more about that look than just that. Skylar was sure he saw shame. Shame for what he was about to say next.

"..............Yes. That's them, they's the ones, they's bullied me up and took off without a shred o' silver on the table," He was revving himself up into a fervor, convincing himself that these words were the truth. "They hurt me, they did. Belong in jail, they do, the jerks!"

Tears began to form in the young face, his face quivering with guilt that only Skylar could see. The guard's hand gently relaxes upon Jim's shoulder, and he turns the watery-eyed lad away from the men who were causing him such grief, and the two began to walk back towards the direction of the inn, consoling him all the way. Done confiscating, the knight ordered Skylar to put his hands behind his back, and he accomplished it quickly and without verbal response. The spear point stopped pressing against his back, as the guard from behind began to bound his hands with hemp rope, abrasive and itchy to the touch. The knight began to put Skylar's equipment onto the ground, lifting his head back up with a raging fire in his eyes.

"So, you bastards really did a number on that kid, didn't you?"

Skylar takes this time to finally speak up, hopefully to rectify this situation. He wasn't liking the look on the knight's face.

"Please, I assure you, we-"

The last word gets cut off by a gauntleted backhand propelling into Roscar's right cheek. The force nearly flips him over, but it is the impact of metal against flesh and bone that just about makes Roscar black out. Spit gets involuntarily launched, spraying on the ground to his left. Another armored hand grapples Roscar's throbbing neck, constricting it as his eyes lay upon the other fist recoiling and powering itself for another blow, but a voice from behind bellows.

"Hey, knock it off! We'll handle this, you knights just continue along your way."

The belligerant knight peers at the guard with a face of irritation, but he makes a scoff before letting Skylar go, not very gently, and walking off. the other night cuts his eyes at Skylar, slowly lowering his sword and putting it back into its scabbard before walking off with an angry gait to his steps. Two guards take their place, spears now taking the place of swords and keeping Skylar in check.

"Alright, you're coming with us. No sudden moves, or we won't hesitate to have a pretty boy shishkabob, got it pal?"

Sore cheek, even more injured pride, his patience was running thin, and his hands were damn itchy. All he could do was nod. One particularly big guard hands his spear over as he hoists the limp Reann over his shoulder with one arm. A spear shaft pokes Skylar forcefully, urging him forward, and the others take to Skylar's side, spears at the ready. A sigh escapes him, feet trudging along as the afternoon sun was starting to wind its way down towards evening. What a day.

~~~~~~~~

Well, I did get to the headquarters.

Skylar tried his hand at positive thoughts. Here he was, sharing a 10 by 10 foot jail cell with the only friend he had in this city, a wolf-man, who was unconscious even, both stripped of their equipment and left with the armor and clothes on their back. All because of an incident that did not even involve them. A couple of cells were next to them, separated by stone walls, where the scratchy sounds of raspy men conversing permeated through the solid struction. A small barred window looked out into the sky, sunset now approaching with its magnificient orange lining the clouds and painting the sky. And, out in the hallway, a guard walked by ever so often. After a brief conversation with him, he had told Skylar that they were to be tried before a council of leuitenants, before given sentence, and things weren't looking too good for them, the guard had said with a bit of dark smirk.

Reann hadn't woke up yet. Skylar had heaved him as gently as possible upon the bench-like bed that was on the right wall, the unconscious fellow's body warm but inanimate, a rag-doll to carry around. The impact of the pot must have been truly harsh indeed. With worry, slight pain, and ever-present boredom, Skylar sits on his own bed, wondering how he planned on ever joining the very organization that had just had him arrested for a crime he did not commit, and waiting for Reann to emerge from unconsciousness. What did they do to that kid?

[Seether]

What happened? The wolf-hybrid groaned softly and shifted his back against the hard surface he was laying on. Something was poking him in the shoulder blade and was growing increasingly painful by the second. Whatever it was shifted away from his back and for a moment he was left in peace; then his head slowly began to throb. He groaned again, wincing painfully as the echo of the groan in his throat set the throbbing to an even quicker pace, and rolled his head to the side.

Something cold touched his nose and his eyes snapped open. Bleak gray stone met his vision, along with about a million tiny points of light that danced back and forth across his vision, and he blinked. What in the? He didn't remember the paving stones being a bleak grayish color. He rolled his head to an upright position and immediately wished he hadn't. Colors of the most wild and bizarre hues filled his vision top to bottom and he was instantly dizzy.

"Augh," he groaned as he rolled quickly to his left. In his panic he forgot he was fast against the bleak gray stones that had awoken him and he hit his head hard against their rough surface. "Kahh!" He threw his body quickly away from the wall, a basic survival instinct to get away from whatever had caused him pain, and bounced hard against the surface he had been laying on. There was a brief moment of weightlessness as he bounced into the air and in that brief moment he realized that he had just thrown himself off of whatever it had been that he had been laying on. A second basic survival instinct kicked in and his mouth opened in a silent wail of terror.

Arms flailing and legs kicking, the wolf-hybrid landed on the ground with a muffled thump and a loud grunt. His head, like a piece of corn attached to a limp stalk, slammed hard into the ground and he yelped in pain. Then he lay still, soft whimpers emitting from his throat, his arms and legs sprawled in front of him, his hands slowly flexing open and closed again. He remained like this for only a few seconds, finally lifting himself up in good, if not very slow order and giving wherever he was a good once over.

It was a cell. A prison cell. So that really did happen, he thought to himself as he carefully brought himself up into a seated position. It wasn't just some strange dream. Which meant that; the wolf-hybrids yellow eyes snapped open even wider and after a moment of frantic searching, found the person he was looking for. Despite his pains and dizziness, the wolf-hybrid gave the man a small smile.

"Good to see you’re still in one piece," he said, lifting an arm in greeting. "Got here better off than I did I see. Didn't knock you out with a clay pot." The upraised hand went to the spot where the pot had hit his head and he winced, drawing both his head and hand away from one another quickly. He slowly returned it however and pressed gently against the ever size increasing knot developing there. It felt wet too and when he pulled his hand away he saw the faint hue of blood. His hand went back and he checked the area around the knot.

Why would they have cleaned it? I'm a prisoner. Letting his hand fall back down to his lap the wolf-hybrid carefully leaned back against the wall nearest to him. He only wince once but it was a constant battle not to do more of the like. It was amazing how one head injury could make it feel as though his entire body hurt. He looked back to Skylar.

"Any idea on how long I've been out? Feels like only a few seconds, but I'm guessing that it's been a bit more than that."

[Skylar]

((More bunnying. I doubt you'll be complaining, hehe.))

It was a false sense of relief to see his wolf friend awaken from his pain-induced sleep. A person to talk to, at the very least. But as Skylar began to open his mouth, his ears adjusted to the sound of two people marching their way towards their cell. Hues of torchlight began a steady ascent to brightness, until two faces partly shadowed appeared in view through the prison bars. The sound of a slightly rusted key clatters and fidgets, and the door soon opens with a echoing squeak. The first guard brusquely speaks, spear firmly in hand.

"You two, you're coming with us. No funny business, and stay right behind me. No talking."

Skylar firmly plants his feet on the stone ground and rises quickly. There is a certain eagerness that accompanies a person when the notion to leave a room they had be caged in for hours is brought to the plate, despite what the future held. A man about to be hanged has at least the comfort of knowing that he'll never be back in the same moldy cell ever again.

Hanged? A disconcerting thought.

Nevertheless, Skylar passes the guard standing right next to the door with haste, taking his place right behind the other guard. They wait for Reann's approach before the crew began their steadily paced, silent trip through torchlit hallways. Other cells of thieves, murderers, and Hidden One knows what other miscreants are passed, but despite the occasional hollars or smart comments by the more smug criminals, Skylar pays them no mind.

They eventually leave the prison section through a final barred door, coming across a hallway with many doors. They take the first right. Upon the door, a wooden plaque in firm lettering shows the words SERGEANT PINSER. The first guard opens the door, holding it up as Skylar and Reann and lead inside. A simple room it was, a desk with paperwork littering its surface, a shelf with some big books in it, a few pictures hanging upon the walls, a window showing the last bits of the sun just about to drop below the horizon line, with twighlight just approaching. Behind the desk was a decently sized man, a huge mustache adorning his upper lip, being stroked diligently as the man seemed to be seering through reports of some sort. The door finally closes, which brings the sergeant's attention, looking up with slightly frustrated eyes. He spoke with a hurried, gruff voice.

"You're them, huh? Alright, good." He motions to the guards. "Stand guard outside. I need to talk to these men." "But, sir, they're..." "Guardsman, do as you're ordered. I don't need protection from unarmed civilians. Go."

He was probably right about that. A three-pronged trident lay within arms reach of the seated officer, and Skylar could assume one didn't acquire a rank like sergeant without proving your mettle time and time again. The guards give each other quick looks before opening the door again and closing it slowly behind them. As the door clicks shut, the sergeant began appraising Skylar and Reann intently with his eyes. Unlike the other guards, there wasn't a stare of hatred or a gaze of indifference, but rather a hopeful purpose. He begins again.

"Listen, before you start giving me your pleas for innocence, which is what you're about to do I can tell, I'll start by saying this: I know. We already got a confession from the bartender, he told us you paided in more than full, and you were quite the calm and collected customers. Didn't even do so much as to bat an eyelash at the verbal beating you got. For that, you've got to be commended. You'll be immediately be set free, I'll see to that."

These words brought forth a great weight lifting from Skylar's mind. Already he had resigned to think that this was going to go for the worse, thinking this kind of tarnish on his record would prevent him from joining the City Guard and thereby failing Deacon Veronius on his first day in Scara Brae. However, The Hidden one had been watching out for him all along, and the truth had been brought to light. He still worried about the beaten bartender, and deeply thank him for coming forward despite his being in obvious danger.

"However, that isn't why I brought you here." This brought Skylar's attention back. Pinser leans forward on his desk, interlocking his fingertips and laying them on the paper-ridden surface. "As you can tell, there's been many troubles with that particular inn. Those men you encountered? They weren't just normal bar patrons with a bit too much mead in their bellies. They're part of organization infamously known 'round these parts. The Scara Scourge."

Skylar had heard those two words before. He remembered overhearing a conversation that had been going on outside of his private room's door on that ship. They had been talking about a recent shipment being missing, and had muttered the group's name in a quite annoyed manner. Strange that Deacon Veronius had not made any mention of such a thing as the Scara Scourge.

"Yeah, they're the bane of our existance. We're the order, they're the chaos. Though their lower members are fairly dumb and easily dealt with, we don't even know a clue about the upper-ranked members, save their titles and assorted unbased rumors of their skills. They're a very sneak, secretive organization, running all sorts of underground activities right under our very noses. And lately, they've been growing in power."

At this, the sergeant stands from his seat, popping his neck out before lumbering towards a map that had been pinned to the right wall. It was a map of Scara Brae, with different sections of the city color-coded. Upon the purple section, which seemed to be the port area, there lay a red X circled vigorously. His finger points to it.

"The Golden Swan, the very same inn you had your little tussle in, has coincidently become much more profitable. You see, the inn used to be much smaller than it is today. Sure, it did well, it was a nice little shack right off the pier where the ferry docked, so it had good business, but it was still just a small inn. But just recently, that's changed. They expanded their inn, buying out the fish shop that was right next to it, heck they even put a solid gold swan right on top. No inn has made as much money as the Golden Swan has. The owner claims he got some extra money from a dead relative, and he was just making good business to top it off, but I've been skeptical. I'm responsible for overseeing the port section of Scara Brae, but lately there's been more thefts of goods from ships. Also, there's been reports of missing people lately. Females, to be exact. Some as young as 15."

Sergeant Pinser's eyes grow dark after those last words. He turns his face away from Skylar and Reann, walking over to the window. The pale orange tints of twightly had just set in, light wavering to the incoming darkness. There's a pause, and Skylar decides to make the best of it.

"Then something must be done, right? Should you not be attempting to arrest these horrible men for their crimes?"

The older man doesn't bother turning around, but rather tilts his head to the side, still captivated by the sky.

"Kid, there's more to it than that. We're only assuming this is the case, and it's a safe assumption. The Golden Swan is a private establishment, anyway. We can't just barge in there without proof or a real cause of danger."

"Then...why are you telling us this, Sergeant?"

Swiftly, the guard's eyes turn to meet his. They're fierce and earnest, but there is a slight hint of a plead in them.

"The Scourge know the face of every guardsman, lieutenant, and sergeant in the City Guard. They're well informed and they've hired damn good spies. We suspect that the Inn is doing illegal things. This is where you come in. We need you to go in there and see what kind of illegal things they're actually up to."

Skylar's heart misses a beat. It seemed that there was no time to relax after all.

"You want us to.....spy for you? I do not think that I am suited for such a task........"

"It wouldn't be that bad," the sergeant immediately throws out. "All you'd have to do is go in and bring back some proof of the activities. If they're gambling, bring back a gambling chip. Something like that. You could do that, couldn't you?"

Skylar's eyes begin to search his mind, creatively making up scenarios at which the two, Skylar and Reann, are eventually caught and captures, beatings, torture, or killed. The ideas fill him with a sense of dread. Scraping for some kind of reinforcement, Skylar's head turns over the Reann. He wondered if the half-breed had a more determined answer.

"What do you think? Would we be able to attempt such a feat?"

[Larien]

I want to participate, I just need to read through what's going on, so I'll come back and edit this once I've got my part written.

[Seether]

((Bunny approved))

"Huh? What?" The wolf-hybrid, startled by his sudden involvement in the conversation, jumped a little and swung his head around in surprise. His eyes glittered in the pale light of the Sergeants candlelit office and for a moment, looked unfocused. Once they did focus however, the wolf-hybrid found himself staring blankly at Skylar.

"Attempt you said?" The wolf-hybrid nodded slowly when Skylar nodded his head slowly. "Yes, yes I believe we could attempt this feat." The wolf-hybrid turned his gaze up to the Sergeant and his eyes narrowed slightly. "But there's still one thing that's bothering me about this whole predicament."

"Oh, and what's that?" The Sergeant asked coolly.

"Why us?" The wolf-hybrid gestured loosely at himself and Skylar. "I mean, why, out of all the more qualified individuals out there, did you pick us? We just met! Not fifteen minutes before you arrested us. He nearly ran me over!"

"Yeah, so?" The Sergeant shrugged. "You're the ones that got arrested."

"On false charges dammit!" The wolf-hybrids hand made a loud snap against the hard wood of the sergeants desk. "By your corrupt penal system! You have a confession from the innkeeper! Why are we still here?!"

The wolf-hybrid hadn't realized he had been shouting until Skylar tapped him gently on the shoulder. Still fuming and wanting to rage further the wolf-hybrid nearly spun around and railed into him but a silent cough from the sergeant gave him a moments pause.

"Now, what you've said could be enough to earn you a week in this facility but I'll let it slide this once. If only because of this reason."

"Oh yeah, and what is that?" The wolf-hybrid snapped, suddenly wishing he had his weapons so he could stab the man. He was innocent, why was he still here? His mouth curled into a sneer and he growled softly as the sergeant spoke.

"In addition to us needing information on the growing Scourge activities and various power rings, we've also experienced the unthinkable. Two days ago, Councilmen Creedi's daughter was capture and is being held hostage in the Scourge headquarters near the docks. We've no idea where this HQ building is located but we have a strong suspicion that the information you may encounter in the Swan will."

"This is bullshit," the wolf-hybrid growled. "There is no way I'm risking my neck from some bullshit councilmen and a daughter he can't keep track of."

There was short moment of silence them, with the sergeant and the wolf-hybrid staring hard into one another’s eyes before the man behind the desk shrugged.

"Very well." His gaze turned to Skylar. "Looks like it's just you from here on out. Guards." The door opened and the two guards stepped in. "Take this man here to the lobby, I will meet him there shortly for a deeper brief." One of the guards nodded toward the wolf-hybrid. "Yes, he will remain here. He has a few papers he needs to sign concerning the terms of his release and the weapons we confiscated from him." The two guards nodded then motioned for Skylar to follow before standing just outside the doorway.

"Well," Skylar said in a slightly forced cheerful tone. "It looks like this is where we part ways." His arm extends toward the wolf-hybrid, his hand open for a handshake. "It was both a pleasure and an honor to meet someone of your esteem. May you always find solace in your days and may the Hidden One guide and watch over you for the rest of your days."

"Uh, yeah," the wolf-hybrid mumbled as he extended his own hand to grasp a hold of the other man. "What you said, again, toward you and, yeah." His smile was genuine, even if his words didn't sound quite as such. "It was nice meeting you as well. Be seeing you?"

Skylar grasped a hold of the wolf-hybrids hand with a broad smile. "Certainly, I'd enjoy that." He then unwrapped his hand from the wolf-hybrids and gave the sergeant a second warm smile. "I shall await your arrival."

And then, without another word or second glance, he was gone. Leaving the wolf-hybrid alone with the sergeant.

The wolf-hybrid stared at the door for a few moments, still smiling to himself, before he turned to face the sergeant. "Well then, what about those - "

He didn't get to finish his sentence as the solid end of a guardsmen's riot baton took him hard against the face. Blackness exploded in his eyes before he could even know what had hit him.

[Skylar]

A few minutes pass as Skylar stands patiently in the lobby with his only companions being a silent dutiful guard and the sound of a quill penning through various documents, before the bulky sergeant finally appears from the connecting hallway. Right behind him is a woman wearing thick eyeglasses and a most vibrant red hair, carrying all of Skylar's equipment. As Pinsar stops, the woman steps forward, presenting all of the things Skylar held dear. The initiate takes it most eagarly, sifting through his precious possessions

"I want to thank you for your cooperation," The sergeant opens with. "You're truly a credit to civilians everywhere. Unlike that wolf-boy."

Skylar looks up at that, his eyebrows and mouth squinched with a slight disagreeance. "No, no, please, do not think harsh of Ereann, I am sure he has his reasons." His hands come across his ink vial, making sure it had no cracks in it. He holds it up to the nearest candle as he continues speaking. "In any case, he has encountered much today, and he certainly deserves his freedom and peace of mind."

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Pinsar harshly remarks under his breath.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, just remembering something, I think outloud," Pinsar fends off as if quickly parrying a rapier. "Anyway, I hope everything you have is an order, because I want you to set out immediately right after this briefing. We can't waste any time, because the girl could be in horrible danger already."

Alright in his breastplate, Skylar heaves his flail and pack on his back, quickly nodding.

"Good. Lieutenant Sascha here will be filling you in on the finer details. Skylar, good luck. And remember, that girl's life is in your hands."

Now settled in, Skylar turns his head, fully attentive, and his first sight is that of Pinsar's roughly trained hands reaching out to him. Skylar connects and is given a very firm, respectful handshake. The candlelights made out a good image of the sergeant's face. He had bags under his eyes, and his retinas were cracked with thick red veins. Sergeant Pinsar looked as if he hadn't slept much, if at all, in many a night. The sergeant pulls away and locks eyes with this Sascha, both of them nodding to each other before Pinsar trudges along and disappears down the hall. The faint sound of a door slamming comes from his direction.

Turning his attention to the lieutenant, the redhead gives Skylar a trained smile, before looking down at the papers in her hand. A time passes before she looks back up at him inquisitively.

"New here, right? Salvarian, oldest son of the esteemed Silverlake family?"

"Yes.....how do you-"

"It saves time when you don't ask pointless questions." She looks back down at the paper. "Let's get on with it, hmm?"



~ An hour or so later ~


The black of night envolops Scara Brae with warmth and the smell seawater drifting through the moonlit air. The boats make their soft gurgles like whispered conversations between sterns as they bobbed up and down from the waves at their tethered dock. Even the Golden Swan's characteristic daytime squawking had long ceased, succumbing to the overbearing silence that seems to rule when the sun makes its westerly retreat. In this tranquil time of night, a hooded figure combs his way through the shadows, making an unassuming entrance into the noiseless bar. As he walks in, he can tell the place is mostly empty, save two men quietly playing some game involving sided stones. They seem very absorbed by the game.

Third seat from the door.

The man finds his seat along the bar, and sets his hands on its surface. Metal clinks as the gauntlets plop upon the smooth wood counter. The bartender approaches, an intense looking man bearing a scar trailing vertically across his face. He makes a smile with decaying teeth, greeting the customer, and taking a brief note of his seat.

"Hey pal, what'll ya have?"

"Yeah, they love to start you off with a stiff round. They see it as a win/win situation. At worst, the alcohol might get some stupid and rowdy (which a drunk is easily disposed of), or at best those weaker in personality will become a helpless, walking wallet in their hands. Remember, when you get to the bar, order....."

"A Neverscale Whore-poon."

The bartender looks at him briefly, sizing up the hooded man before he sets off, grabbing a glass along with some assorted bottles. The figure looks around the room while he waits. It was obvious that the two men at the table in the corner were making looks towards him. Turning back, a glass slams down on the table. The figure makes a nod at the bartender before observing his order rather carefully. It seemed to be made of several shades of brownish liquid, as if types of liquor had been mixed together, along with little pieces of something sparkly on the inside. As the story goes, the drink had apparently been offered to a Neverscale mermaid by a particularly homely rum-brewer. Safe to say, the ugly man had achieved his lustful desires with the beautiful fish-maiden for the night, but the man paid for his deceit. He never got to see the next morning's sun. Some say his body is still hidden in some underwater alcove, many miles off shore, where no one will ever find what may be left of his bones.

The figure looks at the drink for a good amount of time, as of pondering.

"I am going to be forced to consume alcohol excessively?"

"Yes! Of course you are. Don't you realize what kind of people you're going to be around? You're going to be surrounded by the dregs of society. If you want to not be discovered, you're going to have to buy into the act for this one night. Besides, who knows, you may like it."

"Gluttony is a sin."

"Oh boy. Get it in your head, you're doing this to save a life, Skylar. And you're going to have to knock off that prim and proper talk, unless you want to nail a great big target to your forehead."

Well, here goes nothing.

Gripping the glass, Skylar takes a deep breath and raises the glass to his lips, inviting the liquid into his quivering mouth. The burn of alcohol courses over him, and with great duress he swallows the entire amount with a violent shudder springing throughout his entire body. The entirety of his face squenches and his face turns hot as he fights back the urge to hack and throw up from the taste and sensation of alcohol going down his throat. The bartender approaches again, somewhat amused by this sight.

"You alright, pal? Somethin' I can do for ya?"

Bearing through his bittered face, Skylar speaks up with his face still cloaked.

"Never better. Good stuff......actually, I could use a bottle of wine now. What years do you have?"

As if a final lock had finally been unclasped, the bartender gives Skylar a yellowed, decayed smile.

"I'm not sure right of th' top of my head. Come here and I'll show ya what we got."

Breathing hard from the drink's effect on him, Skylar stands up from his stool and heads behind the bar, taking note that the men who were watching him were no longer doing so. Watchmen, perhaps, a good way to keep the general populace from staying around too long, or taking the designated chair from the VIP customers. The bartender opens a door behind the bar, holding it for Skylar as the men both take downstairs towards the wine cellar. The door closes behind them.

Indeed, there were many bottles of win in the medium-sized room. All years, with many times and makes of wine caressing each side of the wall on racks. On the far side of the room, however, is the thing the bartender was looking for. A bookcase, somewhat oddly placed, is placed against the wall on that side, holding different colored books and scrolls. The bartender, still smiling, puts his hand on a wine bottle that was on the second row of the rack next to the bookcase, and pulls it out. The bookcase swings open, showing a set of stairs even further down. The shadowy light of torches outline the walls. The bartender slaps the cloaked Skylar on his shoulder.

"Don't worry newbie, the first day is always the hardest. Probably because of how much money you'll spend. Have fun!....hehehehe...."

The bartender then makes his way back to the door, opening it and closing it with a creak. He was heading in now. The alcohol still burning, Skylar had to wonder about what the next rooms would bring. Already, he had broken one sin. How many more was he going to go through on this horrible night?

[Seether]

The moments that followed after he had been knocked out for a second time, were sketchy at best for the wolf-hybrid. What he did remember though, was that shortly after the Sergeant had hit him, he had disappeared from his office, only to reappear a few moments later, slamming his door behind him as he did so. He then proceeded to stare at the body of the wolf-hybrid until two guards came and dragged the body away. That was where things became hazy.


~ Forty-five minutes later ~

“…my guess however is, that this Sergeant that runs the place, doesn’t much like the fact that I didn’t want to help him in his quest for a promotion, or whatever his motive was, and wanted me to serve out my full sentence for back talking him with snide or otherwise rude remarks about his governments penal system.” Arms dangling between the bars of his cell, with his face stuck as far out as it could go, Reann finished his recap and stared blankly at the man he was talking to.

Gerald was a big man, having been a farmers son, then a career soldier in the Salvarian army, now prison key guard for the Scara Brae penal system. His hair showed little signs of graying, which cleverly masked his ripe age of fifty seven, but the dull gleam and wrinkles behind his eyes said enough to know that this man had seen a lot, accomplished a lot in his time. He even owned a good deal of land back home in his native Salvar, with wishes to one day retire from the Scara Civil Watch, utilizing both service pensions, and live out of the rest of his days as a fairly well to do plantation owner. It was an ample plan and he only had three more years to go before he could retire with full pay. If Reann didn’t know any better, he would have said he was jealous.

Gerald, having heard the same story from perhaps a thousand different inmates at any given time, just simply nodded from his seat in the tiny cell like office just across from Reanns cell. He had been doing much the same for the entirety of Reanns rant but the wolf-hybrid was fairly certain he had heard and understood, all of it. The big man opened his mouth wide, nearly shoving his massive fist whole into it as he yawned loudly. Smacking his lips the big man reached blindly across his worn desk to grip an equally massive mug filled to the brim with a black looking liquid that steamed steadily. He slowly brought the brew to his lips, sipped a few times, replaced the mug then shook out his news pamphlet before lazily turning his gaze to Reann.

“Well then,” he said slowly, reaching again for his mug. “Looks like, ffffff, you’re shit outta luck bub.” He sipped loudly at his brew again, shook out his pamphlet and squinted at the tiny words written on it.

Reann sighed, letting his head fall with a metallic clang against the bars of his cell. Thanks, he thought. Lifting his head a short distance away from the bars, he let it fall back against them, repeating the same metallic clang. He did this for a few minutes, until the distant throbbing of his bludgeon wound from earlier returned and started giving him a headache. Then he pulled himself away and out from around the bars, making his way back to his suspended plank and straw bed. After sitting down heavily onto the rough and very uncomfortable surface he leaned back until his head hit the wall. He stayed like this for only a few moments, as sitting like that was very uncomfortable for his back and legs, and eventually ended up curled into a tiny ball on the plank bed, his face buried beneath his arms and covered by his tail. Shortly there after, he fell asleep.


~ Approximately one and a half hours later ~

“Hey!” Something hit the bars of the cell hard clanged loudly throughout the tiny cell Reann occupied. Startled awake from a deep slumber, it took a moment for the wolf-hybrid to recognize what was happening.

“What?” He uncurled from his sleeping position and stretched. “What’s … going on?” He asked around a yawn large enough to crack his jaws and stretch the muscles in his jaws almost to painful straining. He squinted toward the bars just as someone clanged, jingled and jangled the lock to his cell open. There was a creak as the cell door swung open and three men walked in. “Huh?”

Two of the men grabbed a hold of the dazed Reann and hoisted him to his feet. “Hey,” the wolf-hybrid said a little groggily. “What’s the meaning of - “ He didn’t have time to finish his sentence as a fist materialized in his gut, pushing all the air from his lungs in one fell whoosh. Pain exploded in his gut and he doubled over as best he could in the iron grip of the guards, coughing and hacking loudly.

“Shut up freak,” someone said roughly. A hand wrapped itself in the fur of the wolf-hybrids mane and yanked his head up. Through squinted eyes the wolf-hybrid just barely made out the charcoal black face of one of the Scara Civil Watchmen, dark brown eyes smiling as a fist clenched just beyond the face. The wolf-hybrid tried to scream, but there was no air in his lungs and all he could manage was a wheeze. The fist closed and slammed hard into his face.

Light exploded in his face and moments later all he could see was the black of his closed eye-lids.


~ Unknown amount of time later ~

“Aaauh,” the wolf-hybrid groaned, his head rolling on his chest. “My head … mmmnnn” Lifting his head slowly, it felt as if it weighed a ton, the wolf-hybrid blinked his eyes open slowly. A glaring light was shining directly down into his face and he winced, trying not to stare directly into it. It didn’t work and he was forced to close his eyes again. “Where am I?” He said groggily. “What happened?”

Something wrapped itself through the fur on his mane and his head was jerked back violently. Gasping, and wincing in pain, the wolf-hybrid forced his eyes to open. Bright light and pitch black were all that he saw but judging from the way the thing gripped his fur, he knew it was the hand of a Civil Watchmen.

“What - what’s going on?”

“Shut up,” someone said behind him and something smacked him hard on the side of the face. Hissing in pain and cringing away from the blow, Reann squeezed his eyes shut and tried to take deep, slow breaths. After a few moments the pain from the blow faded and he began to calm down. By that time, whomever it was that was leading this ring of pain, had shown up and was now standing as a blacker than black silhouette in front of Reann.

“There is no reason to hold him, he won’t try to escape.” The voice was familiar but the wolf-hybrid, in his still delirious and roughed up state, couldn’t quite place its source. The hand that was holding his head up thought, released its hold and Reann was now allowed to twist his head and stretch out the muscles in his neck. He sighed and shook his head, blinking quickly trying to clear up his vision a bit.

“Ow,” he mumbled after. Being punched and otherwise beaten across the head multiple times, had a way of loosening ones brain in their skull and his felt like it had been squeezed between a vise for a few hours. Something clicked, flashed then began making a hissing noise. The wolf-hybrid looked up and found himself staring into the torch lit face of the Sergeant.

“What? Wha - why are you doing this?” His voice cracked and he coughed roughly, sniffling loudly when he finished. He lifted his eyes to meet the Sergeants, who had them squinted with a small smile on his lips.

“Why? Well, you could say that it’s partly because I don’t like you.”

“Don’t like me? You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t like what you are, I could care less about who you are. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t even deserve to live.”

“Then why I am I still alive?” Something slammed hard against the side of his head and he cried out in pain. The throbbing from both the first time he had been hit by the Sergeant, and the time when he was punched, immediately began anew and slowly built up a rhythm with the most recent throbbing. Hissing, the wolf-hybrid inhaled sharply and straightened his body, squaring his shoulders to the Sergeant. The man was smiling.

“You’re still alive, because I can still use you.”

“Use me?”

“Yes, use you. That mission, I offered you earlier?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“It’s not an offer anymore, it’s an order.”

“Ha, you have no authority over me. What makes you think you can just up and order me to do what you want?”

“Because,” the Sergeant said, taking a step forward and leaning in very close to the wolf-hybrids face. “If you don’t, I’ll see that you and your friend, die.”

“Why would I care if he died?”

“Because you’d be the one who killed him.”

The wolf-hybrid’s eyes widened. “What? What do you mean I’d be the one who killed him?”

The Sergeant smiled and straightened, turning his back to Reann. “It’s quite simple really. We kill him, or get him killed, then we plant evidence that leaves a trail straight back to you.”

“But I’m in prison. Or did you not work that little detail into your plan?”

The Sergeant chuckled. “My my boy, aren’t you a bright one. Yes, that detail has been worked in and on the day of your friends death, you will be set ‘free.’ Of course we’ll make it look like an escape, you flying into a rage, killing one or two guards, wounding several others, then. . .” The Sergeant made a casual stabbing motion with one arm. “Pow, Skylar, is found dead with one of your knives plunged into his chest. Quite simple really.” The man wore that small smile again.

“But, if I escaped,” Reann said slowly. “How would you find me again?”

The smile faded to a frown on the Sergeants face. “I take what I said back, you’re fucking retarded.” Suddenly he was as close as humanly possible to the wolf-hybrids face without actually touching him, his eyes tight. “Why would I let you go, when I’m only staging your escape? No, no no no no, you’ll be here, safely locked away in the deepest, darkest cell I can find. Where you will stay until the deed has been carried out and then, when the time is right, I’ll bring you out and say I captured you.”

“Wouldn’t that arose the suspicion of the government, you having caught me in only a few days?”

The Sergeant laughed and straightened. “Oh no boy, there’ll be a massive search. Weeks, possibly even months! Then, when almost all hope has been lost, a clue will be found! Then, bam! I bring you out and I, get a promotion.” The man smiled and bowed deeply.

“Wait,” Reann said, his face looking more than a little lost. “This is all for a promotion?”

“Yes, it is. And once I get it, I can use the full strength of the Civil Guard to bring an end to this Scourge business and take back what has been stolen from me.”

“Your sanity?”

The Sergeants face peeled back into a snarl and he coiled up as if to strike the wolf-hybrid, but did not strike. Instead, after a few moments, he calmed visibly and straightened his coat.

“No, my daughter.”

Reann stared for a moment at the man, confused and little scared, before what the man said finally clicked.

“Your daughter?”

The Sergeant’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly unaware that he had soiled a very important detail of his plan. The daughter he had first spoken of, had been kin to a Council member, not him. Suddenly it was all beginning to make sense to Reann.

“She wasn’t kidnapped, she joined them. Joined them to get away from your controlling and violent personality. She ran away from home and now you’re very angry but you can’t do anything about it, because you don’t have the power to get her back. You certainly couldn’t ask, she wouldn’t listen. So you’re using the Guard to arrest all of the Scourge, consequently her as well, or so you hope, and from there you’d be able to keep a close eye on her because she would be a convicted criminal and thus wouldn’t be a target of suspicion from the government for over observation!” There was a moment of silence as Reann inhaled deeply. “You are a dirty fucking cop.”

This time the Sergeant didn’t hesitate to hit the wolf-hybrid and hit him so hard that he was nearly knocked free of his bindings on his chair. Reann, working the lower half of his jaw that had nearly been broken, struggled for a moment to regain his seat and when he had, stared defiantly up to the Sergeant. The man, rubbing his fist from the blow he had just dealt out, stared back with a surprising amount of calm for his apparent rage. Finally, after a few more moments of silence, he placed his hands behind his back, spread his feet and spoke slowly to the wolf-hybrid.

“You, as of right now, have two choices. You can either do what I tell you, or you can face the executioners block many months from now, spending the entire time in a cramped, dark cell, for the murder of your friend, Skylar. You have one hour. Decide wisely, this could be the last decision you ever make.”

He waved to someone behind Reann and the wolf-hybrid had only a moments notice to cringe before something came down hard on his head, knocking him out for the fourth time in less than twenty-four hours.


~ One hour later ~

Laying in a loose ball on his cell bed, Reann stared blankly at the wall.

“What guarantee do I have that you’ll set me free afterward?”

Someone shifted inside his cell, and turned to face him. “When I get me daughter back.”

Reann sighed and propped himself up. “All right, I’ll do it.”

The Sergeants fingers snapped and a guard entered the cell. Taking a hold of Reann’s bound hands and feet, he popped a key into the locks and with one great snap, unlocked the chains, freeing Reann. After massaging his wrist and ankles, the wolf-hybrid stood and nodded to the Sergeant.

“Ready when you are,” he said quietly.

The Sergeant nodded and pointed, commanding Reann to walk. Head hung low and shoulders drooped slightly, Reann began walking and as he neared the end of the hall he looked up at the ceiling.

Certainly hope your days going a little better Skylar. Hope you haven‘t gotten yourself killed.

The massive door opened and Reann was pushed through to the other side.

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been sitting for a full year. Since no response has been made to create activity I am going to be moving this. If you would like it to be reopened please feel free to PM myself or another admin and they will be able to move it for you back to Scara Brae.