Valandil Telemnar: The Beginning

[Thoracis]

The journey from Gisela to Radasanth had taken far longer than expected. The Gisela Open had left Thoracis Rakarth bloodied, ragged and weary. He had been more then grateful for the hospitality of his new ally, Ezekiel Glass, following the tournament, though he had never imagined it taking him two weeks to recover. Glass had been a gracious host, however, and his expansive estates on the Yarborough Plains were more then welcoming. Despite the delay, it had been a necessary respite. There was much work and a long, tumultuous journey ahead of him now.

Gisela had been a successful campaign for many reasons. The tournament had provided the platform Thoracis needed to get back in the public eye. It was the most important outcome from the event. Now the people would know he was back. It was on the heels of these triumphs that Thoracis proceeded with his plan, drafting the open letter to all of Althanas, his rallying cry to pull the people to his banner. He would have an army again and it would start here in Radasanth.

It had been nearly two years since Thoracis had visited the capital of Corone and little had changed. Despite the war that was being waged between the Corone Empire and the Rangers of Corone, Radasanth remained mostly untouched by the strife. Thoracis knew that many throughout the countryside would have flocked here to flee the violence and seek the comfort of the city walls and nearby Coronian Navy. That meant the city would be chock full of men and women willing to do anything to put an end to the war. As always, there would be a plethora of warriors, young and old, hanging around The Citadel, just waiting for the chance to prove themselves. And perhaps, most importantly, would be the mercenaries a conflict like this always attracted. Thoracis could provide for them all. As he passed through the city’s eastern gates he couldn’t help but feel excited. This was the start of something special.

[Thoracis]

Thoracis had no illusions about walking into Radasanth and simply finding an army willing and waiting for him. He was building from the ground up this time and knew it would be a long process. First, he would need to find people he could trust, individuals who’s skills and reputations could form the backbone of his army. Not just soldiers, but people who would be integral in the logistics and caring for of his forces. It was one thing to have the troops to lead in battle, but without a foundation to build upon there could be nothing. Fortunately for Thoracis, he still had some contacts in Radasanth, remnants of his past ties to the city as leader of The Grand Army.

He only knew the man as Quinn; an entrepreneur, proprietor and collector of valuable information. Quinn owned many fine (and not so fine) establishments throughout Radasanth. Like many self-made men he had humble beginnings, presumably where he earned his penchant for the criminal lifestyle. Though he had retired from that part of the life, those in the know were well aware that if there was information to be had, Quinn was the man you went through to get it. For a price, of course.

It was in the southern outskirts of Radasanth that one could usually find Quinn. He owned many taverns in the area, including his pride and joy, The Noble House, an amusing name given its origins and location in the heart of Radasanth’s criminal underbelly. A favorite place among many of the Radasanth Crime Syndicate to enjoy a drink, The Noble House was also Quinn’s favored place in collecting and dealing his wares.

Fortuitously it was on these southern streets of Radasanth that Thoracis could travel unnoticed. Not entirely destitute, these slums were still among the most deprived areas of the city, what little money there was being provided by the infrequent donations of Quinn or higher ranking members of the RCS. Numerous shops had sprung up along the streets, offering little of value, mostly families selling whatever they could to try and turn a profit off of the refugees brought to the city by war, who seemed to litter the streets in droves. While crowded to the point of overpopulation, Thoracis still made his way to The Noble House without earning the attention of the throngs, though fully aware he was being watched by either one of Quinn’s men, the RCS, or both.

The Noble House itself may as well have been a castle compared to the district around it. Five stories high it was easily the tallest building for as many blocks and structurally it looked by far the least likely to crumble under a stiff breeze. The doors to the establishment were swung open, as they always were, and a raucous roar could be heard from inside, as there always could be. Thoracis entered silently, taking a seat among the few vacant seats at the bar. He received a wary look from the bartender before the wiry man made his way over. “Concordian ale.” The bartender simply nodded as he gathered up the copper pieces Thoracis dropped to the bar .

Chancing a glance around the room Thoracis found no sign of Quinn, or anyone he knew for that matter. Immediately he recognized that he had finally drawn some attention to himself though. Never being one for disguises, his silken white robes did little to belie the purse of gold attached to his belt. His leg instinctively brushed the liviol staff which rested against the bar at his side. There wasn’t a single man in the place who would challenge him, but if they decided to gang up the scene could get ugly. The sound of glass clunking on wood pulled Thoracis’ attention back to the bar. “Enjoy your drink,” the bartender had a solemn look to him, “Hurry it up though. I don’t think you’re too welcome here.” Thoracis nodded, already deciding he wouldn’t chance a drink from the glass. Just then a hand on his shoulder nearly startled Thoracis off of his stool.

“Whoa there, my friend! I don’t recall you being so jumpy!”

“You’re an asshole. I recall that.” Thoracis shook his head at the smiling face of Quinn. “Nevertheless, I need to talk to you.”

“I know. Come, we can speak in private.” Thoracis rose from his stool and began to follow Quinn, who abruptly stopped. “Bring your drink. It’s safe.” His constant grin was exasperating, but Thoracis did as he asked. He had really wanted the drink anyway.

Quinn’s private quarters were located in the basement of the building, a lavishly furnished office area, constructed of the finest mahogany and yew woods from Concordia and Raiaera. It was clear that Quinn took pride in the appearance of the place for the very few who were ever allowed to see it. “Sit my friend.” Quinn motioned to the chairs opposite his desk, where he promptly sat himself. “You’ve created quite a stir, you know, sending that proclamation out the way you did.” Quinn pulled open one of the desk’s many drawers, withdrawing two small glasses and a bottle of obviously expensive brandy. “A bold move, to be sure, calling out damn near every organized fighting force on Althanas.” He poured a drink for each of them, sliding one to Thoracis. “You’ll probably need your beer to chase that,” Quinn offered before taking his glass down in one swallow and pouring another. “Perhaps you’ve gone crazy wherever it is that you’ve been all this time?”

“I have my own designs,” Thoracis admitted while smelling the alcohol, which he immediately regretted. He tilted the glass, only getting half down before he almost gagged on its harshness. He eagerly swallowed his ale to fight back the burning in his throat.

“No doubt you do. But it is still a stupid thing you do. You had all of Alerar behind you last time and could not succeed.”

“I do not intend to conquer nations, Quinn. I intend to do exactly as I said. If some personal goals of mine are met along the way, then so be it.”

“Of course.” The grin had finally left Quinn’s face. He knew it was time for business. “So what exactly do you need from me?”

“Just some information, as always. I can fund this thing on my own. What I need are the connections to supply it. Weapons, armor, ships… all of it. I can’t go directly to the nations now. I need someone who can deal in the quantities I need and keep it hushed up. I need to know anyone of importance in and around the city. Mercenaries. Ones that would be useful to me. I’ve heard Godhand Striker has been around?”

“You know this isn’t normal information Thoracis. What noble is at what whorehouse is one thing… This is the type of information that costs money.”

“Don’t patronize me Quinn. You know I know the costs of business.” Thoracis pulled the pouch from his belt, flinging the sack of gold onto the desk. “That should be more then enough for what I want.”

Quinn eyed the bag. More then likely he knew it was gold by the sound it made hitting the desk and had already calculated it’s contents simply by sight. It was one of his many gifts. “Very well. It has been said that Striker has been making noise as of late, though were I cannot be sure. Some say here in Corone, others say elsewhere. He’s not a man that’s found so much as a man who does the finding. I can put out some feelers though…”

“Yeah, yeah… but it will cost more. Do it.”

“As far as your supply problem, there was one person I think who‘d suit you beautifully. Operated out of Salvar for awhile. Rayse Valentino was his name. Had some trouble with the government and hasn’t been as active lately, but I’m sure that the amount of money you’re flinging around might make him rethink that.”

Thoracis knew that was all he was going to get. He had hoped for more, but it was a start. “Well I guess I have some work to do then,” Thoracis rose from the chair, offering his hand to Quinn in gratitude. “You’ve been helpful Quinn, thank you.”

“Thank you. It was good to see you after all this time.”

Heading for the door, Quinn halted Thoracis once more. “Stick around the city for a bit before heading to Salvar. There are some in the city who would join you. It would be a shame if you left before they could be ‘informed’ of your presence.”

Thoracis took his meaning, simply nodding in thanks again. It was late afternoon when Thoracis emerged back onto the city streets. He breathed easier, at least having some direction now. It may have been just one stone, but his foundation was forming.

[Xerith]

In a small village along the coast of Corone, around twenty miles from the capital, two of the many hardworking men of the village emerged from the tavern, one clutching a piece of parchment rather tight between his dirty fingers. Neither man could be considered drunk, but both men had had a number of drinks which threw off what few inhibitions to talk that they had.

"Can you believe this Thoracis guy? Claiming that all of the nations of Althanas are corrupted and all." The man with the parchment waved it in the air. "Who is he to claim to be the world's 'savior'?"

The other man laughed at the boastful one's words. "Didn't he used to be the General of Alerar's army? Some elf is going to save Corone? I thought they only cared about themselves... and Raiaera."

The first man joined in the laughter. "Yeah, what is some elf doing telling us who to follow." He tossed the crumbled piece of parchment onto the ground. "I've even heard that he's in Corone right now, looking for an army! How pathetic." With that, the two of them rounded a corner and out of sight. Behind them, a stranger to the village stepped out of the shadows and picked up the crumbled piece of parchment, a great deal of thought hidden behind his red eyes.

~~~~~~~

Somewhere in the air above Corone, a lone figure rode atop a dragon, hunched down over the large beast's rigid body. His attire blended in quite well with the scaly hide of the dragon and the way that the two were locked together, it almost appeared as if they were made for each other.

In Xerith's eyes, they were. His connection to his dragon, Xero, was unlike anything any without a dragon could ever experience. It was greater than any love imaginable, the two of them were closer than any married couple. Which was why it was so hard for Xerith when his dragon friend did not understand what he was planning to do.

I don't understand why you must join one of the barbaric groups in this area. Can you not simply ride my back and explore the area? Xero asked his rider telepathically. The two of them shared a special bond that no other had, which included telepathic communication.

"As I've said before, I need more than just an aerial view of their defenses, I need to know how they think. The army cannot have a complete picture without it, plus if I can stir up some dissention among the numerous nations on this side of the world, it will be all the easier to take these nations." Xerith was speaking in a normal voice and it should have been impossible for Xero to hear him over the wind, but either the dragon had increased senses or he was merely reading Xerith's thoughts because he did not miss a beat in replying.

But where will I go while you do this. I will be lonely without you. It crushed Xerith to hear that, but he could not keep himself from his task. "I know my friend, and I will be with you as often as I can, but this is for the greater good of our people." With that statement he directed Xero to land just past the line of sight of Radasanth so that he could begin his task.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

The chain of information from Denebriel's Cathedral reached all the way to the folds of the Gol'bron thanks to the Church's latest member. Lorenor. The small warrior paced restlessly as he pulled up his newly acquired suit. The UASU (Universal Anti-Sunlight Uniform) uniform. Outside, the sun still swelled overhead and the ghoul was taking a tremendous risk. As soon as the suit was upon his person, he felt it latch onto his skin. Millions of micro-filaments pierced his epidermis.

When that happen, the suit drew plasma from Lorenor's life blood. Using his own life energy to activate itself, the the tubing within the suit's intricate patterns lit up in a light blue. Lorenor felt the suit vibrate for a few moments causing a tension against his flesh but this soon subsided as he became used to the suit's power. Lorenor had to wear the suit at all times. He saw a residue of energy flowing from the suit and creating a strange waving halo about the vampire's person. Lorenor eyed a nearby mirror. All though strange, he had to admit that the suit looked rather dashing in its own way.

Covering his person from his neck down, the suit had a pattern of the mysterious tubing all around it. He would have to take care of the Artifact well. Lorenor rubbed the mysterious bracer he'd recently acquired too, it was now his right forearm. Where there was once flesh, his forearm was replaced by the mysterious aegis device. Though it was not his arm, the man could still move it like it was organic matter. He flexed his new hand a few times, still getting used to the feeling of the bracer. Somehow the whole get up looked perverse. The Golems had been a huge help to his person and Number 5,325 remained a close ally. In fact, Number 5,325 waited outside the dressing area as always. His son. The Rogue Golem.

Left in his care, Number 5,325 escape certain death at the hands of his people not too long ago. While Lorenor was away from Radasanth, everything went straight to hell. A recent terrorist attack (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t5511) on Radasanth left the city devastated. Its slum district faced a huge losses but people escaping the wrath of the Civil War came to work and quickly repaired the city. However, the scars of the battle still showed through the face of the city as building like the Radasanth Library still remained in various phases of construction. On that day itself, the very freedom of the typical Radasanthi citizen was under attack. Lorenor had missed this engagement and caught some information from this and that source that The House of Sora happened to save the day.

Being a member of the Gol'bron meant that Lorenor had to keep tabs on the rest of the Power Groups currently active in Corone and other countries as well. Some citizens of Radasanth were saying that the whole world was going topsy-turvy and straight to hell in a hand basket. Lorenor finished dressing, feeling the weight of his newly acquired suit beneath his person, the last thing he attached to his person was the gun that Number 5,325 gave him that day. With his full leather attire, and the Gol'bron's symbol proudly emblazoned on his cloak, the small warrior stepped outside and looked rather dashing for a ghoul.

Being a ghoul had its benefits. "You look well, Father all things considered going on in the outside world." Number 5,325 said to him as he stepped outside. Lorenor simply nodded to his son. Looking up at the ceiling of the building, the time to test the Golems' technology came. Lorenor was armed only with a basic steel longsword and the gun-wand attached to his left wrist, hidden in the sleeve of his leather jacket. Lorenor seemed bothered by something, and he removed the package from the Church of Ethereal sway he recently received. It contained a letter from Thoracis. Memories of a past meetings flashed, like splinters, in his mind. There were rumors that Thoracis lurked in Corone.

"What do you think about that Lorenor?" Number 5,325 asked him.

"I think we should go help a friend." Lorenor said. "Can you use your ship to track people from my memories?" Lorenor asked wondering how far the Golems' technology actually went. "We can." Was the response.
Number 5,325 was in his assumed Drow identity. He actually looked like an older incarnation of Lorenor, though the ghoul would not know this unless he looked at the Data Cube. "Let's get to the ship then." Lorenor said half heartedly. Walking towards the entrance of the training center, Lorenor saw many students working and training along the way. Number 5,325 only seemingly acknowledged Lorenor and waited for his Father to test the suit.

Opening the double-doors, a man walked over to Lorenor. "Sir, you can't be out in the daytime hours! Master Knocks instructed us to prevent you from going outside during these hours!" The man placed his hand upon the doors closing them before Lorenor could actually open them more than a sliver. The ghoul sighed and looked at the Monk. "I am testing a new device that my friend here gave me. It should protect me from sunlight." Lorenor said in response, hoping to convince the Monk. "I gave him a suit to protect him so he can walk out in the sunlight as freely as you do." Number 5,325 said. The Monk kept his hand upon the door for a few moments longer but finally let the doors go. "All right, we'lls ee if this device works. But if something happens to Lorenor I'll never hear the end of it from Lord Sorahn, or Ranger Nailo, OR Master Nocks, got it!? So if there's even a hint of trouble, you bring him back quickly!"

The Monk said. They had developed a special relationship with Lorenor earning the small warrior's respect. Lorenor nodded and opened the door. He saw the brilliantly glowing gem in the sky and it hurt his eyes. It was like a spotlight directed right at the ghoul to destroy him. Despite the heat, the warrior was able to resist the effects of the sun. The glow around the suit became much more intense and Lorenor was able to stand in the wake of shafts of sunlight. Several Monks stopped their training to witness such a miracle. Lorenor was a creature of darkness and by all rights had no business being up and about in the daylight hours where so many threats to his person lurked.

For the first time in his unnatural life, Lorenor stared at the sun without fear of burning up into ashes. He placed his hands in a shaft of luminous energy and saw that his hand did not burn up in smoke. The suit worked! This meant that the ghoul could accomplish tasks in the daytime as well as in the darkness. Lorenor looked at Number 5,325 and nodded. "We go to meet up with Thoracis in Radasanth. We'll take the ship this time." Lorenor said and started to walk in the daylight. He felt one thing though that bothered him greatly, his powers felt greatly weakened...and he felt very exhausted thanks to the weight of the sun.

Still though, a weakness was conquered.

[Xilium Rupertus]

This will be taking place after the battle I have in the Citadel now, so Xilium will have a reason to be in Corone. I'm also going to take into effect the storyline plots I'm adding in for him, so just bear with me guys, trying to get back into the groove lol. Thoricas has all rights to bunny my character in any way he chooses to add into the storyline.

A shiver of excitement resonated through the mind of Xilium as he walked out of the Labyrinth, his bloody scythe dragging the floor behind him. A whisper of the violence that had ensued seemed to surround his entire body, giving a feeling of power that was ecstasy. It wasn’t the physical aspect of the fight that got to him; it was the flowing movement of war, the essence of battle that all gladiators had felt through the ages. This was what he had lived for before; he knew that now. A growing hunger was already filling his mind, a want for destruction and carnage, and a bloodlust, which seemed to almost consume his entire body. A small smirk crossed his face as he brought the scythe up into place and began to walk down the corridor towards the open archway of the Citadel, leading out into the streets of Radasanth.

“HEY YOU!”

It wasn’t until that moment that he remembered what had happened before the battle, with the small boy and the guards. Things were put in a different light now though; the man who had walked in was much more ready for this situation. Pulling his robes over his head he turned to stare at the two guards without moving, letting the tension of the situation build. The feeling of brutality he had before seemed to form into something stronger, more complex and winding then such a base emotion such as anger. Every movement of the guards was taken in, weighed, and all the options were played out in his mind. In mere moments the destiny of 3 men were decided, and the winds of fate took its course. A wisp of a memory formed in his mind, a single thought.

The Black Wind howls…

With a grunt one of the guardsmen moved forward to grab the seemingly subdued individual in black. The scythe entered through the hook of his chin, the adamantine totally destroying the facial structure of what could now only once be called a man. There were no thoughts of his family and friends, of his life flashing before his eyes. There wasn’t even a feeling of pain or surprise. Only darkness as a lifeless body fell to the floor, blood spraying from the wound creating a crimson red rain that showered onto the others. The only sound in the corridor now was the blood dripping on the floor and the shallow gasping of the guard who still yet had his life. For a few moments at least, until the adrenaline of the other guardsman kicked in and he ran forward, sword drawn and a scream on his lips.

“Dunkle Mutter, segnet dieses Kind mit Ihren dunklen Flammen. Lassen Sie diesen Sünder wird geläutert.”

Dark flames engulfed both of Xilium’s hands just as he dodged the first swing of the guard’s sword, moving to the left of the downward thrust. Seeing the advantage he grabbed for the forearm of the man and instantly began to smell the burning of human flesh and hair as the skin was seared to the bone. The scream that erupted from the pain was not that of a man, it echoed like something from the abyss. It was just as well though, since moments later the other hang promptly grabbed the throat of man, ending the life of this one in a much more painful way then the first. He would be joining his friend in the abyss in the end, and Xilium felt no remorse for the souls. He hardly felt anything but a cold calculating assessment of a job well done. It was funny how fast things could move back into place with just a few lives destroyed.

Checking the pockets of both the individuals he nodded to the monk who was subtly moving forward to check the bodies, an old acquaintance of his that he had yet to fully remember, but knew he trusted. Throwing the gold that had been carried on their bodies to the floor as he pulled out a piece of paper that had been hidden in the breastplate of the first guard. Taking a moment to look it over he smiled, seeing an opportunity had arisen that he could not go without. The name Thoricas was familiar in itself; from somewhere far back in his past. Knowing that the bodies would be taken care of by his unnamed friend he gave a nod and headed down the corridor and out the archway doors of the Citadel. He would have to find this man and join him.

[Logan]

So I changed my mind, what's new? Lol. I hope you are okay with "little" bunnying with the letter, Thor. Feel free to kick Logan's ass later. :-) Anywho. Yeah, they should meet up pretty quick all things considered. And yes, this is he who is and was and always will be -- LOGAN MCCLOUD! Boooooomshakalaka!

Logan awoke from yet another restless night of sleep, or moreover a lack thereof. Something deeply rooted had pierced into the journeyman once again and it showed no signs of letting go this time around. The sheer throbbing of his head was enough to cause concern, but as was his character he ignored it entirely and kept on. The groggy veteran rolled out of his bed gingerly and fought his way to the mirror. Perhaps it was the elven wine or the dwarven ale he'd become accustomed to drinking before bed, but he felt slightly sloshed. He forced himself up to look into the mirror and locked eyes with the disconcerting image of a hero who'd since drowned his sorrows and his past in things not meant for such a delusion. As he began to fall he reached for one of his swords next to the bed and jammed it into the ground next to him to stabilize himself.

Shaking his head just ever so slightly to 'loose the cobwebs', he closed his eyes. Images of his past battles and past wars he fought in flew through at an immeasurable pace. It had been a long time since he'd fought with his demons, but it would seem they had returned to feast upon him that day. As the images subsided he reopened his eyes and began to push himself mentally.

Come now, Logan, you've got to steady yourself. Get over the past! You can't change it, you can't alter it. It's the god-damned past after all, internally he was not right, but he found strength in those words. He pushed himself to a fully upright position and let go of the sword that he had leaned on only moments before. Staring into the eyes of the stranger before him he reached out his hand and gently touched the mirror image of himself.

Hand against hand, Logan felt a sense of remorse. He'd allowed himself to be swallowed by his misery, his past, his shame. It had been so long since he'd fought the demons, or had to fight the demons, that he'd grown too lax in focusing on keeping them at bay. They had found a small hole in his mind and had invaded with such brute force he hadn't even realized it had happened. It was at that moment that a knock came at the door.

"Come in," the psion spoke quietly, but loud enough for whomever to hear him. The door creaked open ever so slowly. A head popped out from beside the wooden frame along with the voice of a siren, "Mr. McCloud?" Logan mumbled to himself, And who the bloody hell are you? Audibly he responded, "Yes, I am he." The little girl nodded before bubbling out the next few words, "Good, good. Glad to see you are up and about now. It seems there is a letter for you at the clerk's desk downstairs. Father asked that I come inform you it is from a Mr. Thoracis Rakarth." Logan suddenly found all the strength he needed.

He lunged at the girl grabbing her top and pulling her up to see look squarely into her eyes. "Don't toy with me little girl. I will rip your head right off that little body of yours. Tell me it is NOT Thoracis, or I will kill you right now where you stand," he screamed telepathically loud enough for the entire hotel to hear him. She shook her head and began to sob uncontrollably. "I cannot, Mr. McCloud. For it is indeed from Mr. Rakarth. Sealed and delivered by a man who would not state his name or purpose, just that you were given word of the letter and it's arrival," she mumbled as she sniffed her composure back.

Logan's eyes flamed with a passion of a new man. He gently lowered the girl back down. "Very well, young lady. You may go. Let the clerk know I will be down momentarily, and that I will be checking out quite quickly," the veteran had found a new lease on life it would seem to anyone who knew him in his state previously. He smiled and the once true, proud, and strong psion felt better then he'd felt in ages. Spinning around as agile as he'd ever had, he grabbed his things and packed his bag. Within a matter of only moments he was packed and on his way to the desk downstairs.

"Ahh, Mr. McCloud. Little Annie informed me you would be down soon. We have prepared a breakfast pack for you, as we are certain you are to be leaving this establishment as quickly as possible. We do not allow such rude behavior to Mr. Royle's daughter. You do understand, I hope," the burly clerk reached out his hand, inside of which held the sealed letter from Thoracis. Logan smiled and nodded. Quietly to himself he mumbled, And if you don't shut your trap I'll run you through so fast you won't know what hit you.

The veteran snatched the letter out of the clerk's hand and turned around exiting the hotel rather quickly. He whistled for horse and hopped on with ease. Logan ripped open the letter with a violence he hadn't experienced in many years. The letter fell out into his awaiting hand. Opening it, Logan was bewildered by the word he read.

Logan McCloud,

Old friend. I just wanted to take this opportunity to invite you to meet me in Radasanth. I have some business I would like to discuss with you.

Thoracis Rakarth

Logan's eyes sparkled in the bright sunshine as he questioned the purpose and reason behind the letter in his hand. His demeanor shifted to the old patient Logan of old. He shrugged his shoulders and kicked his heels into the horse he'd acquired a while back. "Onto Radasanth, Rose," his telepathic link to the horse was strong. He'd ridden Rose around for quite a while, and their bond had grown immensely because of it.

The horse took off at a gallop's pace and Logan continued to question the reason behind the letter. It wasn't long before Logan found himself at the gates of the fairly unscarred capital city of Radasanth. Somehow the civil war and unrest had managed to leave it fairly unchanged, though there was definitely a far different atmosphere and feeling to it. He soothed Rose gently letting her know to slow down her pace to a walk. The two entered through the gates. It wouldn't be long before Logan found the man he who was looking for him.