Death to Ulrik

[Andrew]

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The night air had more of a bite to it now that Luryll had taken off his armor. Maybe it was that he had fewer layers, or maybe it was just the way temperature drops at night when one is far from any mediating bodies of water. Whatever the reason, it had prompted him to build a small fire, in spite of the ever present danger of highwaymen. That warmth, though, carried more than just the danger of being found; it was causing Luryll to procrastinate on going to his cold bed, which would result in his being tired the next day if he did not correct it soon.

A twig snapped.

Luryll cursed the shininess of his sword silently as it flashed in the fire light, obliterating the option of stealth. He cursed the fact that his armor was packed away in his tent, rather than adorning him, as he dashed in the direction of the broken twig. If his attackers were worth their salt, they would have encircled his camp by now; if they were stupid enough to have clumped together, they might just be unskilled enough for him to take them. He should have put out the fire, he realized, although it was too late, so that he could more easily move unseen if they had circled around. Luryll cursed as he saw a lone figure slightly to the North of where he had been charging, because the snapping twig had made him half expect the bandits to be bumblers. "They may yet be," he thought to himself triumphantly; as he turned to chase the one he saw, it began to back away, and then to run.

Something didn't quite add up. "Why would they encircle and then flee when confronted? Spreading out like that requires a certain amount of confidence, which this one is surely lacking. And why am I being attacked by cross-dressing brigands?" When the figure had begun running, Luryll had noticed something strange about the shape of its legs, which had just clicked. His curiosity dictated that questioning was in order, which meant catching this one alive. He sheathed his sword, still running. When he was finally close enough, Luryll executed a diving tackle, which sent his quarry sprawling against the ground.

His quarry felt a lot more supple than he had expected. It felt very much like sitting on the back of a human woman, and not at all like sitting on an armored man; even an armored man in a dress. She started to cry.

"Ugh," thought Luryll, "what a weakling." He said, getting up off her, "I am terribly sorry for my forwardness, my lady, but I was suffering from a case of mistaken identity." He extended a hand in order to help the young woman up. "Had I suspected that a beautiful lady such as yourself would be unescorted after dark in a place like this, I would not have been nearly so quick to assume that you were a bandit. Please forgive me. My name is Luryll K'Ou and I am a soldier of fortune."

Meekly, the woman accepted his help and rose to her feet. "I'm sorry if I startled you," she said to a point on the ground by her feet. "It's just... I had to leave under the cover of darkness or else they would have stopped me."

"You need some time to calm down. I would be honored if you would share the warmth of my fire for a while. Perhaps you can even tell me who these people who would have stopped you are. I may be able to help. I would also be glad to know your name, my lady." Luryll noted to himself that the young woman he had nearly killed was was a fine specimen of human femininity, and was glad that he had not killed her. The fact that she seemed about to provide him with what he liked to think of as a "business opportunity" sweetened the deal. The only drawback was that he was finding his business before pleasure policy somewhat restrictive.

"My name is Elaine," she stammered, "some time by a fire would be nice."

After he had calmed her down somewhat, Elaine began telling Luryll of the plight of her town. It had been a peaceful place, inhabited primarily by farmers. Everybody knew everybody else. There were rarely any fights, because everyone respected the word of the council of elders as law. Even the town's name spoke of peace. "Pacifburough."

Two years ago, a mercenary company known as Ulrik's Marauders decided that they wanted to retire from the high stress life of fighting in wars. However, none of them had the skill sets or inclinations necessary for good, honest work. All they knew was fighting and intimidation. So, one day, they started building a fort on a hill just outside of Pacifburough. The people didn't know why they were doing it, so nobody stopped them. After a few weeks, the fort was finished, and Ulrik himself led a group of marauders into the heart of town. There, he declared that the town was now under his jurisdiction. Taxation would begin one week after the proclamation and resistance would be met with deadly force. Both statements were later proved to be true.

At first, the elders had decided that they should just go along with the demands of Ulrik's Marauders, but lately the demands had been increasing. The latest set of demands included several nonspecific unmarried women. That pushed the elders over the edge, and so they sent all of the unmarried women of marriageable age to go find help. That way, not only did they have a chance of ending the mercenary threat, but the women would be safely away when the Marauders came to collect.

Luryll made sympathetic comments in all of the right places while Elaine was talking. When she was done, he took on a posture that indicated deep thought, although the truth was that he already knew his course of action. "I shall return with you to your town first thing in the morning, and then I shall see about rousting your oppressors. Men such as that must not be allowed to practice their twisted desires upon ladies such as you, nor should they be allowed to feed off of the work of honest men unopposed."

He found himself, unexpectedly, held tight in a bear hug upon the completion of his miniature speach. "This is going to be easier than I thought," he thought to himself, looking forward to being able to retire to a warm bed after all.

[Yari Rafanas]

Away from Luryll and Elaine, back in the town of Pacifborough, the townspeople’s troubled sleep was interrupted by the loud breaking of a bottle and obnoxious laughter. Three of Ulrik’s mercenaries had managed to have a little bit too much fun guzzling down stolen liquor, and now they were hell-bent on having fun. That night’s entertainment went by the name of Christine, a young lady caught trying to leave town.

“’Eeey, where ya headin’?” slurred one of the older of the three as he wiped his nose and blocked the woman’s path. She did not get a chance to reply before another of the men grabbed her from behind, snickering. She flailed helplessly as her mouth was covered and her thin frame was dragged through the dirt into a nearby alleyway.

The two kidnappers chuckled to each other, “It’s a little early but I think we earned it!”

“Heh, yeah—Hey, new guy,” the drunk soldier stopped to burp, turning to the third and youngest of their triad, “Watch’n make ssure no’n walks by!”

The youthful mercenary smirked, “Nah, she is coming with me.”

“Now hold on, kid, ‘n wait yer turn!” the drunkest laughed.

Hmph, I tried.

The young man’s mythril blade barely caught any moonlight before it was buried into one of the foul soldier’s back. The other rapist was too busy grabbing a handful of Christine’s blonde hair to notice that his friend had just met an untimely end with his pants half down, and he too, was soon rewarded the same fate. With both drunkards dispatched, the youth grabbed a firm hold of the girl’s wrist and dragged her away from the town and into the night.

Taydrius “Yari” Rafanas was known to be one of Corone’s heroes.

He stopped running at the edge of forest and let go of the girl. She panted heavily, thanking her savior between breaths and asking for a name.

“Taydrius,” he answered rather rudely, a deadly leer and a twisted grin on his scruffy chin. She looked at him, puzzled, and cried out suddenly as the young man leaped upon her, starting where the two others had left off.

Just be quiet, he thought as he ripped away at her skirt and pressed his lips violently against hers. The youth had been away from this for too long—the touch of a woman, the pleasures brought in life. It was the smell of her hair and the smoothness of her hand that drove him into this fit of lust and greed. Emotions ran strong within Taydrius. Each taste he had of her made him want more, reminded him of what it meant to be in contact with another in a moment of passion. He was so alive in the moment, rolling around in the grass with girl, everything in that moment under his control. His.

But Christine was still whimpering, unable to break away from her assailant’s firm hold. She cried for him to…

Stop, commanded the small voice in the back of Taydrius’ head. This isn’t yours to take. Not after what you did for her.

Rafanas stopped to breath, looking at the quivering beauty he had pinned.

This isn’t Emma.

He sat up suddenly, turning his head just as the woman’s nails cut into the side of his face. He winced, letting her crawl away into the nearby woods. He did not give chase.

[Makira]

Makira smiled as she continued through the forest. Nothing felt better to her than the acrobatics she was able to learn in the forest, even ones using her rather large wings. She had just finished a spin on the three branch, and was feeling pretty well about herself when she stumbled in on a small village, though it was still quite distant, she could clearly see a few fires burning off in the distance. She praised her luck and decided that she would not do anything for the night that look around the town for rumors of a Nightmare Thief.

Makira felt her way along in front of her, her black wings folded upon her back, and her green eyes flashing softly in the light cast by the soft glowing moon in the sky. A twig broke in the distance, and Makira ignored it, never for once even thinking about the others within the forest, because of her one true goal of finding Maera again. For once Maera appeared again, she would be able to return the world to what Makira knew it should be.

Makira continued toward the village, as she thought of it. For back where she was, it was little more than a brave little settlement out in the middle of nowhere. She smiled slightly as she neared the village, seeing a woman flee into the woods nearby. Makira became curious about this, and opened her wings to flap up to the roof above the alleyway to peer inside. Inside was a man. She didn’t know who he was (just to clarify, she is NOT looking down at Yari, but at someone else entirely... Andrew himself asked me, so I am adding it in), and was not about to make her presence known just yet. She folded her wings easily onto her back and crouched low and back, so she could see if he moved and he would not see that she was even there.

The old Thieve’s Highway, as the rooftops were usually called in any large city, she had used enough to know how to dodge sight for awhile even on crystal clear nights. She had the power of darkness as well, and would not be afraid to use it, even if discovered. She merely had to await the man’s next move, and plan her own accordingly.

[Broken]

The night found the man with perhaps one of the strangest births on a long, quiet stretch of country road, his tired eyes glancing lazily to either side. The road had been well traveled, to the point that the dirt was nearly as thick as the stones that littered it's sides, wheel tracks ground into it to make for an uneven walk. A few times, Damien had almost managed to turn his ankle, but he recovered gracefully. The stars winked and watched from above cheerily, the moon high in it's kingdom, clouds a far thought. For all this, one would think that Damien would be taking a leisurely pace, but his odd eyes seen different. The night had a queer air to it, one of anxiety and a sort of menace, as though a beast upset by hunger stalked him in the cover of the shadowed trees.

What made him nervous was the sight of his family, the cold feel of them as they brushed against his spirit. They danced across his path, darted by his side, soared over head like narcoleptic birds. He knew their intentions, he knew why they appeared, and why they gathered. The bodachs were looking for blood and pain, and for the entire night, he'd been wary of their presence. Especially nearing Pacifborough, of which he'd heard so many pleasant things.

The answer to that worry came to him.

Eyes wide with terror and panic, a young woman came sprinting down the path, at first not seeing him. If her features hadn't been twisted in such distress, Damien would have easily considered her beatiful. Long auburn hair flowed with her flight, and the irises of her frightened eyes were a clear green. The shadowjin halted then, setting his hands upon his hips as he looked past the woman, whose teeth were clenched against a scream. Three men followed, hot on her heels, thier hair long and ragged, chins dark with a few day's beard growth. On their chests they wore iron breastplates, and in hand they carried broadswords. Heavy, cumbersome, but perfect for any intimidation a thug could warrant.

Then suddenly, her eyes focused and she saw him, saw the sheathed swords at his back, and ran straight at him, grabbing at his arm and ducking behind his form. She shivered like a frightened mouse against his thin body, fingers digging deeply and painfully into his shoulders. He could hear the turmopil in her throat, the occassional released whimper or choked, quiet cry. His eyes went from here, and to the men, whose pace slowed to a stop, crooked grins across their lips. "Monsters....hateful," she whispered in his ear, her tone aberrant for a woman, and he slowly nodded, touching a hand to the hilt of one of his swords. "Don't worry. I know a thing or two about monsters."

Heavy shadows fell around him, and he realized with a slight gasp that it was the bodachs. They were huddling in, drawing close, ready for the slaughter and terror. Perhaps it would end wiith his corpse, and this girl's raped body left out here to rot in the next day's sun. Damien could never tell for sure, and he didn't have the time to mull it over. The first man stepped forward, noticing the shadowjin's movement, and brandished his own sword. He expected a click, and then a hiss of steel as the sword escaped it's home, but was given only silence, and a stubborn tug. His slim hand then flickered to the back of the tightly clinging girl's head. "I suggest you move with me. I forgot to clean the blood off my blades." He could curse himself out for a bit later, after he freed his weapons and laid these men to rest.

"Left." The warrior happily telecasted his swing, cocking the large sword over his head before bringing it down for a diagonal stroke. Now, the woman screamed as he urged her down, bending quickly to the side, the heavy sword coming down quickly. "Right," he commanded, as the warrior tossed his weapon to his other hand quickly, and repeated the swing. Growling, the man turned his hips with his body, and Damien's eyes lit up. "Back!" He bent back at the waist quickly, and the girl let out another shriek, and fell flat to the ground, the blade sweeping over their heads, creating a dangerous wind. With a slight inaudible grunt, the shadowjin pulled himself back up, puished his hand against the warrior's stomach palm first, and let loose a blast of electricity from his flesh.

He heard the cry of pain through muddled ears, the image of the clustered bodachs blurring so they almost blacked the world out. He was dully aware of a frenzied yanking at his back, and when he came back to his senses, he heard the grating of metal against finely grained scabbards. The woman thrust them forward, at either side, and shaking his head to pull himself back to the moment at hand, and tapped the katanas together, eliciting a tinny ring.

The first attacker was trying desperately to stop the muscle twitches in his arms and legs, bbut Damien refused to give him the chance to recover. He lunged forward, the straight blade of his sword reflecting the light of the moon, and thrust it into his chest, smiling darkly as he felt it punch into the heart. With a grimace, he gave another strong push, twisted the blade around, and sliced through the man's ribs. The warrior did little more than slump to his knees, and fall heavily to the ground, eyes staring deadly at the night sky.

The next two were far easier. They were, for the most part, very undisciplined, and he was not burdened by the woman, who'd rushed off into the woods for cover. He severed one's hands at the wrist with two strokes, and drove a foot into his slightly swollen stomach, pushing him away, and dodged a downward stroke, sending his sword through his neck, severing the jugular and carotid. The handless man in all of his panic, tripped over his own feet, and Damien found him quickly upon the ground, and with one quick, downward thrust, silenced him.

The bodachs swarmed over the bodies, revelling in the deaths, but Damien turned his eyes from them, flicking the blood from his swords in a quick flick of the wrists, and thrust one onto the ground, producing an old rag from his pocket. "May I ask why they were chasing you? Did you belong to one of them in slavery? Or were they simply looking to satisfy a savage desire?" The girl was, understandably, hesitant to emerge from her leafed sanctuary, but after some time, she did, and sat beside the road, massaging her aching long legs. "I was...rushing to the next town, to find able arms to kill some evil men."

The shadowjin paused, let his eyes rise from his sword. To her, they were a dark, smoky hazel, and they caught her attention easily, even under such duress. "Evil men? What are you talking about?" She told him then, eagerly, of Ulrik and his mercenaries, of their rape of both the town's women and coffers.
She told him of the elders hesitation, then sudden action at the threat of the taking of their women's maidenheads, to send out eyes to seek for sell swords.

As she spoke, his eyes took a faraway look, as though trying to picture it. Truthfully, he'd heard and seen this story many times before, even in his eternity as a bodach, he'd watch towns fall silently under seige by despicable men, and then all of their resources; human, gold, steel, coal, were all eaten up bny the beast. It left thousands as husks of their former selves, and until now, he'd never had a problem with it. Her words incited a small, painful squeeze in his chest, as though a fist clenching. "Go to the next town, take a room at the inn, and spend this, all of it. I have no need of it." The shadowjin threw her a small bag of gold coins, more than enough to warrant a good room att an inn. One thing though. May I borrow your cloak?"

"Father gave me this...and..." Her words fell away at the sound of his swoprds sheathing. "I only wish to borrow it. If i have it, I can conceal my swords under them, and strike at the correct time." Though her hands were hesitant, she removed the cloak and held it out to him, as he untied his swords, then tied them so that the hilts pointed down towards the ground, fitting easily to his form. With a warm smile, he took the cloak, and wrapped it around his body, pulling the hoood over his face. He wasn't sure what the garment was made of, but the gray cloth was comfortable enough. "Go now. I'll come back for you when it is safe."

Silently, he walked through the swarm of dark spirits only he could see, his mystifying eyes set on Pacifborough.

[Andrew]

The noon-day son reflected brilliantly off of Luryll's armor. One could almost say that it reflected blindingly off of the armor. As he strode into the town of Pacifborough, tailed closely by Elaine, the people found themselves unable to look directly at him. They all saw Elaine, though, her face positively glowing. There were whispers that the salvation of the town had come. Some even said that the being walking towards the square must be the avatar of a god. With his helm in place, any actual features he might have were utterly inaccessible.

"What are you going to do?" asked Elaine.

Trying successfully to cover up his annoyance at her questioning, Luryll responded, "that all depends on what I find when I reach the elders. My course of action will be different if your fellow girls brought back a dozen men than if I must work alone." For some reason, girls were always more annoying once Luryll had grown bored with them; and he had already grown bored with Elaine. While she had been a warm body, she'd hardly been good for anything else, since she lacked not only experience, but the also the instinct.

After a minute of walking in silence, Luryll spied an inn. "Elaine, go and find the elders. Tell them about me, and ask them if anybody else has brought back help. I am going to get a room. Unless someone really unexpected arrives to help, I'll be taking action at midnight. Keep me informed."

Without waiting for a response, he marched into the inn.

[Letho]

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