Emoria: Chapter One; Fermata

Later that Day...

Dasciis stood quickly after the elven hostess announced the council's end. His ass hurt, and he remembered once again why it was never wise to attend a long meeting in full armor. The rest of the room stood quickly as well, and he could see the eagerness in many of their faces: they were all ready for a rest. Unfortunately, Dasciis couldn't afford to waste time. As the room cleared, Dasciis made his way to Salia.

"Excuse me, my Lady," Dasciis said, bowing his head slightly. The elf turned toward him, a welcoming smile on her face.
"What can I do for you, Hero of Spire?"
"I understand that you wish for us to take time to think upon our destinations, however I do not feel that it is time well spent. No answers were given regarding the wherabouts of those who were kidnapped, and so I have no choice but to participate in the investigations of the absent nations. Since Fermata is close to Spire, and its fortunes may very well impact my own city, I have decided that I would like to head to Fermata. I am not exactly sure what I am looking for, but I will do my best to discover what information they have that might have been useful to this council, as well as why they were absent from it."
"That sounds wonderful," Salia said. "I will make sure to mark your participation and destination. Is there anything else you need?"
"Actually, yes. Traveling to and from Spire, as you no doubt know, is very dangerous. I would like to skirt those mountains entirely, if possible. But that leaves me without a ship." Before Salia could answer, someone stepped up next to Dasciis. It was the pirate, Boyd, smiling at him as if they were long lost friends. Dasciis did his best to subdue his glare.

It was over. Finally, Boyd thought. He would have rather fought off a horde of Tynir warriors than sit through another minute of that council. Boyd stood with the rest of the room as they were dismissed. His first objective was a success: ensure the blame of the kidnappings not fall on the pirating clans. Now he needed to insert himself into the investigation. Boyd made it for Salia, but the Hero of Spire beat him to her.

The pirate listened closely as the Spirean spoke. Boyd stepped quickly forward at the word ship being mentioned.

“Pardon me, Lady Elf,” he said with his grin before turning to the warrior. “I couldn’t help but over hear your dilemma. I, too, am eager to solve these disappearances. Fermata isn’t far from my own nation. I will be setting sail for that direction in the morning. There’s room aboard my ship if it means I can aid in your investigation.” His smirk never wavered.

Saila looked please. “That’s very honorable of you Captain Waters.” With her warm smile she turned to Dasciis. “What say Spire?” She asked.

Boyd patted the warrior on the shoulder. “Yes, what say you, Hero?” The way the pirate worded hero was almost mockingly. He imagined had it not been for the man’s armor he might have felt the Spirean’s blood boiling with disdain under his touch.

Dasciis's blood was boiling under the touch of the pirate. He felt his face heat, and hoped that it wasn't reddening too much. He hated having his emotions known. In fact, all Hero's had been trained to hide such signs. Unfortunately, it wasn't always an easy task to accomplish. Dasciis wanted nothing more than to turn down the offer. But he knew what Torser would say: "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer." This would be a chance to get close to the pirates, a chance that had evaded them for decades. It wasn't a matter of his personal taste, it was a matter of the survival of Spire. And these pirates were a major deterent to its survival.

Dasciis turned to face the pirate, and had opened his mouth to utter the forced words of acceptance, when his eyes caught a shine on the pirates hand: a small ring worn on his pinky finger. Dasciis wasn't attracted to riches; his rewards lay in glory and triumph. But this ring...he had seen it before. The round head of the ring was carved with four symbols around the head of a miniature dragon, much like the dragon on his sword. Dasciis knew those symbols by heart, the marks of his family's heritage.

Without even thinking, Dasciis looked into the pirates eyes and nodded. "Spire graciously accepts your offer, Captain." He knew his face was red now, red from rage. However this pirate had gotten ahold of this ring, he would pay dearly for it. But Dasciis knew he couldn't do anything here, not in the library. Not in this city. The pirate's ship would do just fine.

Boyd watched closely as it was apparent the gears of the Spirean’s mind were turning with the idea of working alongside the likes of him, a pirate. From the look on the Hero’s face the thought didn’t sit well with him, yet as quickly as luck changed hands Desciis’ demeanor swayed ever so slightly. It was so small had the pirate not been standing an arm’s reach from the Spirean, he wouldn’t have been able to spot it.

Desciis eyes flickered towards him, and their stares locked. The Hero’s gaze held a hidden meaning, something that ran deep, and that the pirate couldn’t quite place. It was more than just the glance he had given Boyd upon his entrance into the council. But then it was gone, followed abruptly by "Spire graciously accepts your offer, Captain."

“You do?” Boyd almost said with an arched brow. He hadn’t expected such a sudden compliance. It caught him off guard. The Captain quickly regained his composure, flashing that boyish grin of his.

“Hah! Very well, it’s settled then. We set out tomorrow morn. My ship is anchored West of here. Not but maybe a day’s journey by foot. I’ll be at the local inn and tavern should you need me in the mean time, and we’ll meet there in the morning before we make journey.”

Corbina flew out of the council room and never looked back. People poured out around her, some remaining to speak with each other and others abandoning the room as fast as she. The council, to her, had been a colossal waste of time. She did not need to be reminded that the rest of the world was in turmoil. Wee Jas would look over her, and her people. But then why would Wee Jas send her here? She did not doubt the word of a prophet. Perhaps there was more going on then what those in the council had admitted. In fact, that had to be true. Why would enemies reveal all secrets to each other, just because they were in council? They would not.

Corbina stepped out into the afternoon sun and whistled. There was a 'caw' in the distance, and soon a large black raven came into view. Corbina held up her covered arm and let the raven perch on it. "Gabriel," she said soothingly. "How did you fare today?"

The bird looked about for a bit, its head cocking in each direction as it made sure no one was nearby. "It was restful, Corbina. But it seems we went an awful long way for such a short...gathering."

Gabriel, being born a raven but granted sentience through the power of Wee Jas, still didn't understand all of the inner workings of complicated cultures. Perhaps that was why such unique familiars were popular in the 'less civilized' lands of Jasidin. Their simple matriarchal structure was easy enough for Gabriel to wrap his brain around.

“I don’t understand it either, Gabriel. But Wee Jas would not have sent us here for nothing! I know you are well rested, but I am not. Let us find somewhere for me to rest, before we return home.” With that she turned and began searching for someplace where she could pay for a room. She had been told that bigger cities had such places, though she had never actually stayed in one before. She left the great library, but as she ventured out into the city of Nolwë Osto she realized that the dared not leave the main southwestward road, or she would become hopelessly lost.

It seemed as though businesses predicted as such, for there were several inns just along this road. Even better, she noticed, some catered to certain cultures more than others. Though it wasn’t blatantly stated on a sign, she could tell by the architecture and décor that certain inns catered to certain people…or at least, they were made to look exotic and entice people to enter and learn more. Some were elvish, fitting in perfectly with their surroundings. But others along this road there were structures that resembled those in Traemador, Spire, and others that were unfamiliar to her but that she knew must be a part of the northwestern continent. She had studied geography and knew that there were cultures to the north of Taurë Arda. Then she came across a particular inn that made her shake her head and smile. It was called “Werewolf’s Bane,” and it was built in the fashion of a bungalow home, though the “swamp” underneath it was really just a sad little pond. Large dogs were chained to the bungalow’s structure, right below a wooden sign with the words “Beware, werewolves” carved into it. While they certainly were not werewolves, they were the largest hounds that Corbina had ever seen. There was nothing vicious about them, they waggled their tails as she walked by and ascended the wooden stairs.

She wasn’t sure why the innkeeper bothered with all of the set ups, when it looked so silly in her eyes. Then again, what she saw as a Spirean structure might look just as silly to the native Spirean. Perhaps it was a creature comfort for those far away, or just a bit of fun for people who liked to travel. She had to admit, she was climbing up the steps to stay here…so the innkeeper must have done something right.

Gabriel flew off her shoulder and perched himself on the railing, chuckling to himself on the novelty of the place. He remained outside as she walked in. She found that the inner room was just as oddly decorated as the outside. While it had the essence of a swampland bungalow, there were things about it that were just not right. It was too big, for one. Another, there was a fireplace inside. There were couches and small tables that didn’t resemble furniture from her lands at all. The woman standing at the counter was dressed in colorful garb, but it wasn’t in the same fashion as Corbina’s. It resembled more elven clothing. In fact, the woman herself was elven, though at first Corbina hadn’t noticed.

“Ah, a sorceress! Welcome home m’lady!” The lady behind the counter smiled. “Would you like a room up top, or one of the private bungalows in the back? It is the most privacy you can get in Taurë Arda! The best prices too, for the room you get. You do have the proper currency, yes?” By proper she meant the currency used in most the civilized world. Corbina did have some, in a pouch on her belt. She didn’t understand it, so had to assume that the woman would take the amount of coins necessary to afford a room.

“I’ll just sleep up top, and…” Corbina padded her side, but her coin pouch wasn’t there. “Hold on,” she said, and searched her waist. There was no pouch…but perhaps it was in her bag. She took it off her shoulder and began looking through it. The innkeeper looked a bit wary now, like Corbina might be trying a trick on her. The frustration built in her, and she forced herself to remain calm.

Moments later…

Boyd stepped out of the grand library into the thick Nolwë Osto air. It was obvious there wasn’t an ocean for miles. Boyd felt like a fish out of water, being so far inland. It was hard to breath, and his movements felt constricted. The Captain preferred the open sea, the rush of the wind in his face, and the smell of the salt air. That’s true freedom.

His emerald gaze fell upon two of his crewmen who lingered awkwardly on the corner of the street, rudely gawking at any passerby. Larry and Hoyt; were hardy, loyal, and capable pirates who had accompanied Boyd to the council. The two men straightened up as they saw their Captain approaching.

“How did it go, Cap’n?”

“Not well, Mate. There are grave matters to attend to.” Boyd said solemnly.

Their faces turned serious, and both nodded eagerly awaiting orders.

“I’m parched,” he stated abruptly with a grin. “Let’s grab a drink, ey?”

The two men smiled almost shamefully as their demeanor changed.

“You should have seen your faces! Looked like two green-cabin boys, fresh out a’port.” He joked, laughing. “Come on! Drinks on me, boys,” he said still laughing as he pushed past his two sailors.

The three crossed the street, and made it down the strip where there were many taverns and inns all styled around the various cultures of Emoria. Boyd suddenly caught glimpse of a flash of vibrant purple up ahead that vanished into the one of the inns. There was no mistaking the color of the swampland sorceress’ cloak. That infamous grin of his slowly formed on his lips, as he set a course for the hut shaped inn she had just entered.

“Hold here, boys,” he stated as he reached near the inn.

The two pirates rolled their eyes, huffing lightly at having to wait once more. Boyd paid their minor objections little mind, as he scaled the steps.

“I’ll just sleep up top, and… Hold on.”

Boyd watched from the doorway amused as the woman searched her person frantically.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat. He was arrogantly leaned against the entrance, smirk gleaming, and in one hand repeatedly tossing a coin pouch in the air before catching it. “Everything okay, Sugar? You look flustered. Lose something?”

Corbina looked up, her eyes narrowing as she caught sight of the pirate entering Werewolf's Bane. He cleared his throat and then asked, "Everything okay, Sugar? You look flustered. Lose something?” Her eyes were distracted by the coin bag he repeatedly tossed in the air, which upon her noticing, was indisputably her own.

“You. Give it to me!” She shouted, hand moving toward her sheathed dagger by instinct. Her anger flared almost beyond control, and in fact might have if the inn keeper did not intervene.

“There will be no quarreling here!” She shouted, and Corbina felt a calming essence take over her, much like the powers of the library. She wondered if all elven structures had the ability to calm its inhabitants, or if it was the elves themselves that had this power. Either way, Corbina was glad for it. She forced her anger away in shame. The pirate laughed and walked outside, and Corbina quickly followed him.

When she exited the door, Gabriel was flying overhead, swooping down and pecking at the pirates head. The man reached for some contraption that was holstered at his belt, she wasn’t sure what it was but obviously some sort of weapon. He aimed it toward Gabriel.

“No!” She shouted, running down the steps and reaching out for Gabriel. The raven made one last “caw” of defiance and landed on her shoulder. Relieved, she turned toward the pirate, trying to look a balance between dangerous and in control.

“Now, give me my coins.” she put her hand out toward the pirate.

Larry and Hoyt looked on confused with arched brows as their Captain came laughing from the inn before a large black bird swooped down attacking him.

“No!” The sorceress blurted with a hint of helplessness in her voice as she came scampering down the steps towards the pirate and her bird. It was that tone that sent Boyd’s index finger slowly easing off the trigger before finally lowering the pistol and shoving it back into his sash. The crow gave a concluding caw, as if to taunt the pirate, before retreating onto the woman’s shoulder. Boyd instantly regretted not pulling the trigger.

“Now, give me my coins.”

“You chase me out of the inn nearly at knife point, your vile bird almost pecks my eyes out, and now you’re makin’ demands? You oughta’ be thanking me for even finding your stupid coins!” The pirate exaggerated.

“Find them where? On my belt? That is called stealing!”

“Same thing,” he said smoothly.

“Just give them to me!”

“You forgot the magic word.” Boyd grinned.

“Now,” she said coldly, un-amused.

The captain’s smirk never faltered as he studied the witch curiously. She had a certain strength about her. Her golden eyes held a wild look like they were containing a raging fire within.

“Fine,” he said with little interest. “Here,” he tossed the pouch at her.

Dasciis had followed the pirate at a distance, keeping out of sight but close enough to keep track of him. A pirate loose in a civilized city was bound to be trouble, and Dasciis was unfortunate enough to need the man's ship. He was going to have to make sure the pirate stayed out of trouble. The pirate walked toward a strange building on stilts, a building that reminded him of the strange sorceress he had met in the council. He quickened his pace to reach the building before the pirate could disappear, but before he got too close he came back out.

Dasciis saw from a distance a large black raven dive down at the pirate. He tried swatting it away, and within seconds had his pistol free and was doing his best to aim it at the nimble bird. Then Dasciis noticed his arm relax, and the raven sped away to the sorceress, who was just descending the steps from the odd-looking building. Dasciis was now close enough that he could hear parts of their argument, and the pirate threw the sorceress a small pouch.

"What's going on?" Dasciis asked as he approached them. He didn't trust this pirate any more than he would trust another pirate. The fact that he was sent to speak for his clan only meant that he was more able to get into trouble and successfully lie his way out of it. Pirates, on principle, simply could not be trusted. He glared at the pirate before glancing at Corbina. He noticed the scowl on her face as she glanced both at him and the pirate. It was a look of defiance. Somehow, the raven on her shoulder shared that expression.

The building behind them looked somewhat like one he had seen during his travels through the Jasidin swamplands, though it was lacking in many of the finer details. The pool underneath the stilts certainly smelled swampish, and he wouldn't have been surprised if the inhabitants of this inn simply dropped their waste into it. Why Corbina and the pirate had chosen this place to stay, if indeed they had, Dasciis couldn't imagine. What was wrong with one of the Spirean-like inns? Dasciis stood tall and adopted a stance of authority, attempting to show the pirate that he wouldn't be simply brushed off with cool words and a witty tongue.

"Nothing," said Corbina, surprising Dasciis. She still held that look of defiance, and he wondered why it would be directed at him. Suddenly, he wasn't quite as sure of himself. Most people accepted the protection of a Hero, rather than brushing them off. It made him feel...unwanted.

"Well then...we've got a long trip ahead of us, Captain," Dasciis said, turning his gaze and the conversation back to the pirate. Women were indeed confusing. "We should get an early start in the morning. Where exactly is your ship?"

The street of Nolwe Osto was crowded, filled with activity, and completely awkward to the lone Durake mercenary wandering through it's midsts. Jarileh Ky'ley, warrior for hire and part of a rare race that drew stares where ever he went. Even now as he tried to nudge his way through, people were stopping to point and stare. A few were asking just what he was, but they were unimportant. He was so used to the stares in this land that he expected where he went, which meant he had to double his guard. Being a man used to break, destroy, fight, hurt, and kill, you tend to gain a healthy amount of enemies. So, as the stares continued, and Jarileh pushed his way through the crowd, his eyes were doing scanning of their own. He used his years of experience to single out persons of interest that could be a possible threat, although with the sheer number of people, he was sure he missed quite a few. No matter, he doubted anyone would openly attack him in the middle of the crowded street.

After a few minutes of walking, Jar managed to duck into a alley to wait. Soon, another shadowy figure showed up beside him, and dropped his hood. A simple human, around the age of thirty, sporting a pot belly underneath the cloak, a rough beard, and what looked like a blind eye approached him. His hair was an absolute mess, and he stank of raw fish, but Jarileh didn't register any of this. The man walked totally unlike his appearance, head held high and back completely ram-rod straight. This was obviously a man used to being hidden, yet regal at the same time. Impostor Jarileh thought to himself, but he had already known this. In his given opinion, anyone who didn't have the guts to show himself on the battlefield was a coward, plain and simple. Yet, he had to give credit that men like this one were extremely useful in a variety of situations. The man looked around a bit, to make sure they weren't being observed, and cleared his throat.

"I'm going to assume that it's done?" His voice, again, deceived his appearance. It was deep, yet held authority. His eyes locked onto Jarileh's, but he held no fear within them.

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't. The supplies were delivered at the cost of three of your men, and twenty of theirs."

"Acceptable losses. Again, you continue to impress Jarileh. I believe that marks me at three favors."

"Four."

The man looked confused and surprised at the same time. "I don't believe that I owe..."

"You owe me four favours." Jarileh stared the man down, and even though the man deceived his appearance, the quick flash of fear through his eyes was not a deception. He cleared his throat once more.

"Alright, four favours it is then. We will call upon you once you are needed."

"Or I will call upon you."

"Of course. Until then Mr. Ky'ley." The man flipped his hood up, and proceeded to hobble out of the alley, assuming the role of some down-trodden human with no future in life. If he tried to get out of his favours, he would have no future in life. Jarileh watched him go for a moment, absent-mindedly flexing his hand into a fist and releasing it again.

The end of the meeting meant one thing to Jarileh; that he was out of a job. That was the last possible listing he had been able to find within this region of the land, which meant he would have to move somewhere, anywhere, to find more contracts for himself. As he turned to leave the alley, he noticed a conversation being held just a few steps from the inside of one of the inns. A lady, some sort of mage or sorceress of some type, was talking to what looked like a pirate. As Jarileh looked closer at the man as he tried to swat away the bird, his eyes widened in surprise. The man bore a marking resemblance to a young man who he had saved from a prison eight years back. Boyd was his name, if he was correct. However, before he could do anything else, another man joined the conversation. This one was slightly taller than the pirate, and his armour clearly marked him as a warrior. This one seemed a bit familiar to him, more through tales and stories than known confrontation. None of them seemed pleased to be talking to each other, although Jar wasn't close enough to hear the conversation. From the looks of it though, if this was Boyd, then not only could he possibly be a captain and give him a lift, but he owed him a favour from way back when.

Looking on towards the three though, he hesitated. He didn't want to approach the man in case he wasn't the person he thought he was. Durake mercenaries had a reputation going about them. "If a Durake approaches you, you're either hiring or dying." It wasn't so much the fact that he couldn't handle the situation if it came to a fight, but he would rather avoid one with a man that looked as skilled in close combat as he did. So, Jarileh decided it would be best to simply observe for the moment, and confirm the name to the face. It had been eight years, and things could change, but if Boyd tried to get out of the favour, his insides would be meeting the tip of his blade, and that would be it. Nothing more, nothing less, and totally acceptable from a Durake's point of view.

"What's going on?" The words came abruptly. Boyd turned to see the Hero approach and post up like an unwavering wall. Boyd glanced to his two crewmen who stood behind Dacsciis, and looked at the ready to pounce the Spirean if need be. Boyd gave them a facial expression that said it was okay, and the two pirates stood down.

"Nothing," the sorceress said unexpectedly, and the Spirean wall seemingly weakened.

“You heard the lady. Nothing,” he said grinning, hoping the wall remained beaten.

"Well then...we've got a long trip ahead of us, Captain… We should get an early start in the morning. Where exactly is your ship?"

Boyd was only half listening. His focus was elsewhere. Eyes that were trained to spot land through rain and fog eight to ten miles out had caught glimpse of the Khajiiti exiting the library, accompanied by the strange winged woman. The two would have stuck out in a crowd alone, but together it made it even easier to spot. His mind raced back the comment the assassin had made in the council.

“Like I said, you are an easy person to remember.”

“Captain?” The Hero mentioned again.

“Oh, right,” he snapped to. “It sounds good. Yes, keep it up.” Boyd babbled as he pushed past Dasciis, and motioned for his pirates to follow.

“Captain, what are you talking about?” The Spirean said, confused.

“Hold that thought. I’ll be back. Don’t wait up.” Boyd managed to say, as he vanished into the small flow of pedestrians heading towards the library.

The conversational exchange would have confused most people; in fact, Corbina didn't quite understand the Pirate as he mumbled an excuse of sorts and quickly left the group. There was one thing that Corbina did understand; he was on the hunt. It was an odd primal feeling that crawled into her senses, a warning that another hunter is nearby. The question was, who was his prey?

She tried to follow the pirate visually but the streets were too crowded and quickly he was lost to her senses. In a city, having heightened senses did little good, because so many were packed together it was impossible to pick them apart. A useless skill indeed. Frustrated, she turned back to the Spirean to address another concern. He had mentioned something about a long trip. Where would a Spirean be going...with a pirate?

"Ship? His ship?" Corbina asked him, honest confusion in her voice.

"Where you going, that's so important you risk your reputation, most certain," She paused and looked behind her, making sure he wasn't returning their way. "and possibly your life? He's no good for you."

"Yes, his ship," Dasciis said. He certainly wasn't happy about it, and what the sorceress said was true. But he needed to do something, and with that ring in the pirates possession there was no way he was going to let him get out of sight.
"I need to get to Fermata, and Captain Waters happens to have a ship. We all have a part to play... What about you?" he asked the sorceress. "Where do you fit in all of this?"

"I do not belong here," Corbina replied. "I have no part in this mess of a civilization. I'm going home, to report the failing conditions of the rest of the world." She crossed her arms.

Did she really view the outside world so badly? The sorceresses of the swamplands were reclusive, but the civilizations around them could hardly be considered ’failing.’ But the Jasidin would no doubt be useful in his dealings with Fermata since had a loose alliance with the island nation. "You go through the lycan lands, correct? Why don't you go with us, at least as far as your own borders. You will be far safer with traveling companions than on your own. We are leaving soon, and you are no doubt eager to return." Dasciis hoped she would decide to accompany them, not only because it would be nice to have a pretty companion, but to learn more about the Jasidin that Spire frequently traded with.

Corbina thought about what he said. Though her initial reaction was to decline any aid, she remembered that she had followed him through lycan lands, and lent him a hand on one particularly dangerous situation. Perhaps he was just trying to return the favor. Still, she looked at him with skepticism. “I suppose…but if I recall correctly, it was you, not I, who was in mortal danger on the journey here.”

“Indeed. I do believe I drew their attention. I dare say you hardly count as a meal.” Dasciis added a smile to his banter, remembering the odd temperament the woman seemed to have.

Corbina smiled at that. “Or perhaps they just don’t eat their own kind.” She suddenly frowned, realizing that she hadn’t wanted to personally divulge such information to the Spirean. Also, she didn’t really want to consider herself one of a lycan’s kind, and yet the words had already escaped her mouth. Had he known what she was before her morbid joke? He certainly did now.

Dasciis had wondered what it was about her that drew such attention to her outside of the council room. The priest from Vatienne had taken a special interest in her, though Dasciis still wasn’t sure why. If she was part-lycan, what about her did he think he could save? And why? Dasciis tried to hide the surprise from his face and motioned toward the door of the inn. “Why don’t we go sit down and have a drink. We’ll wait for the pirates return, and if I haven’t convinced you to travel with us by then, the pirate and I will go our own way in the morning.”

Corbina nodded, and Gabriel launched from her arm, uninterested in being locked indoors. She knew what he was thinking; fly around and look for that damned pirate, see what had caught his interest. If nothing else, it could be leverage when dealing with his obnoxious attitude.

She had pondered how the three would travel as she ascended the steps back into the safety of the bungalow-styled inn; and realized with a certain muted fascination that she had already decided to travel with them, even though she had not let the Spirean know. What had convinced her of such a thing? She knew she was better off alone, and yet, she knew that she wanted to travel with them. Was it a longing for companionship on her part, or was it something about the Spirean that made her feel more welcome than with others?

She noticed that he did not question her about her lycanthropy, even though he must have realized that she was indeed infected. She was grateful for his quiet prescence; he was the opposite of her. Composed, calm, never flinching. She was a wreck compared to him. They sat at a table in the common area of the inn, the innkeeper quickly coming over to offer them a meal.

"That other fellow isn't returning?" The elven woman asked, after they had ordered their drinks, and Corbina a room as well.

Corbina looked up. "Hmm? Oh, the pirate? What's his name again?"

"Boyd," Dasciis said in return, taking a sip from his mug in polite disinterest.

"I don't really know, Ma'am." Corbina said to the Innkeeper. She smiled and shrugged, going about her business. Corbina just shook her head as the lady walked away. Her and Dasciis sat in mutual silence, enjoying their ale and feeling the stresses of the day slowly slip away. Sort of. Corbina drank slowly, for though her anger ebbed with the toxic drink, so did her control.

The silence, though somewhat comforting, was awkward. Corbina was used to others pitching conversation, but Dasciis seemed content sitting in the quiet comfort of the Werewolves Bane. Eventually, Corbina thought of something to ask him.

"Why do you want to go to Fermata?"

Jarileh had stood in the alley, watching the exchange with an ever growing interest. While the pirate did not stay much longer, Jar was almost positive that the man was Boyd Waters. When the pirate left, the other two continued to talk for a bit longer, before making their way inside the inn. Jarileh was torn between chasing after the pirate, or going inside to make sure that the man was indeed Boyd Waters. Last thing he wanted was to have the guards chasing after him because he assaulted the wrong man for not being true to his favours. So, he chose the indirect route. He would walk into the inn, and see what exactly the other two knew. He looked around a bit more, giving his surroundings one more thorough look before continuing into the crowd.

People pushed in from left to right, and it was a good thing that he had learned to control his temper long before now, or a few of the people who rudely shoved him back would have felt a full magically-enhanced punch to the face. A few more pokes, prods, and shoves later, and Jarileh had finally made it to the door. This was the main reason he liked being away from big cities, and out doing his own thing. Too many people that he couldn't hurt if they pissed with him. Taking a breath, he entered the door as casually as he could muster.

The inside was homey, to say the least, and he walked slowly inwards at first. His eyes wandered through the area, trying to grab a sighting of the two that had just previously been outside. An elven woman, most likely the hostess, approached him. "How are you doing sir, may I..." She stopped mid-stream, and her forehead crinkled. "Alright, listen Durake, you better not be here to start a fight, or I'm calling the guards to haul you out of this inn." Jar simply stared down the woman, who seemed to back away slightly from his gaze.

"If I was here to start a fight, I wouldn't have bothered using the door. Now, unless you are going to stop me from entering, I suggest you stand aside." Jar's voice was low, but held no malicious tone to it. He was telling the truth, as far as the hostess could tell. She seemed a slight bit hesitant to let him in, but finally she agreed and stood aside to grant him entry.

"If I hear even one single blade being drawn, I'm blaming you." Her eyes looking defiantly into Jar's. He shrugged, and gave a slight smirk.

"I have a hammer, doesn't count." With that, he looked around a slight bit more, and managed to find the two that had been talking outside. With slow, deliberate steps he approached their table with both sets of eyes suddenly upon him. Pulling a chair from another table, he slid it into position and sat down.

"Mind if I join you." It was a statement, not a question. The two of them looked at him with an unknowing and concerned expression on their faces. If they had heard of Durake, then the question most likely on their mind was 'Is he here to start a fight?'. After setting his elbows on the table, and locking his fingers together, he shrugged his shoulders. "Don't worry, I'm not here to start a fight. I simply want to ask a question of you too." No answer from either of them, but that was alright. Jarileh was used to this kind of response from most people. "I want to know if the pirate you were talking to earlier was named Boyd Waters." His eyes locked onto the sorceress first, and her response was evident before she opened her mouth.

"I have no clue." She was lying, it was in her form and her tone. Sure, Jar was no psychologist, but when you work with a bunch of cut-throat killers for a living, you tend to get sense of when someone is lying.

"Really?" His voice was unbelieving, and he narrowed his eyes slightly. He did not like being lied to, but he knew he could not force the information out of her either. Suddenly the warrior spoke up.

"Who wants to know, and why?" The warrior's tone was still guarded, but less hostile than the woman's. Jarileh put his hands down on the table, a small frown painting itself onto his face.

"The name is Jarileh Ky'ley. Durake mercenary. I need to know because that man, if it is indeed Boyd Waters, owes me a favour from a long ways back." He stared deep into the warrior's eyes. "He does what I ask, and I will bother no one. If he tries to get out of it, then things will get messy." He saw the guard raise on that last statement, but did nothing to comfort the man. He meant every word of what he said. With this said, he leaned back into the chair.

"Now, are you going to answer my question, or am I going to have to go the more direct route?"

The hairs on the back of Corbina's neck raised. He most certainly made a threat, and the anger trapped within her began churning with such ferocity she was afraid she might explode. She didn't care about the pirate, or what this monstrosity wanted with him. All she cared was that he had threatened her, for no good reason, and she was not going to give in. She was somewhat aware that she could not rip his head off here and now, but she couldn't collect why. She dimly recalled an innkeeper, a peaceful pressure that told her to calm down. But it wasn't enough.

"Lets talk outside," Corbina said to him, more smoothly than she thought she was capable. She glanced at Dasciis who made to follow her. "Stay out of it" was all she said to him.

Jarileh followed her to the door, and she ushered for him to walk out first. It was nothing to do with manners, and all to do with strategy. He did so, a wary look on his face as he walked past her. At the bottom of the stairs, he turned around and began to speak to her.

"So are you -" Jarileh didn't get the chance to finish. Corbina spun and kicked him in the chest, knocking him back a few feet. He clutched his chest, startled at the strength that came from her petite frame. It would surprise anyone. She should not have the power that she did. She was so angry, angry at him, angry at her power, angry at lacking the beautiful art of fire that she had once had mastery of...as fire came to mind, she hurled an oddly shaped fire bolt over his head, and set the awning of the next building aflame. Beams charring on the edges fell upon him, sparks of fabric flying here and there, most becoming nothing but ashes.

Corbina felt a sudden anticlimax take over her. She needed an outlet for her anger, and she'll be damned if she let him die on her so soon! She wanted to fight, needed it, needed her opponent to get on his feet so she could continue with blissful violence. She approached the pile broken wood and ash, prepared to dig his lifeless body from the rubble.

As she reached down to dig through the mess, a flurry of sparks and heated splinters flew out at her, Where there was nothing, there suddenly, he stood, with a look of not only anger but vengeance. He stepped forward with surprising swiftness for having his legs entombed in debris, and Corbina quickly backed away in surprise and wariness.

Jarileh was not a diplomat for a good reason. His arguments usually came at the edge of a blade, or the side of his hammer. He could sense a build up of fury coming from the woman, but deeming her form well below anything capable of hurting him, he dismissed it quickly. The only thing that even remotely worried him was his lack of knowledge of any powers she might hold to her knowledge. So, when she asked if they could talk outside, he had a feeling there was more to it than that. However, going over his possible options at the moment, maybe it would be better to simply go with the woman and see just what she had planned once they got outside.

Jarileh followed her without a further word, and when she let him pass through the doors first, that is when he gave his first sign of worry. His eyes met hers, and he was honestly curious as to what she would do. Surely she would not attack him, for that would only end up in a swift, and most likely messy death. So, when he reached the bottom of the stairs, he decided to simply keep going from where he left off.

"So are you-"

He was cut off by a kick to the chest, one that held much more strength than he thought physically possible from someone of her stature. He was forced backwards, a surprised look on his face. Before he was able to do anything else, a ball of fire caused an awning to come crashing down on him in a blazing fury much akin to the one burning within the sorceress. As it hit Jarileh and buried him in it's fiery embrace, there was nothing he could do to stop it. Soon, only the fire of the ruined awning could be seen, and everything was eerily quiet save for the soft crackle of the flames.

Just as Corbina made to move forward, Jarileh sprung from the wreckage. His tattoos were glowing a bright red, and his warhammer that most men would have to hold with two hands was carried steady in his right hand. The look of shock on Corbina's face from his sudden movement allowed him to close the distance between them rather quickly. He didn't know the extent of her powers, and wanted to keep her from summoning some sort of inferno around him that could kill him instantly. So, his eyes ablaze with revenge, he swung his hammer straight down, hoping to smash it on her skull and end the battle quickly. Her reflexes however, were again much better than what he had anticipated. She sidestepped the blow, but wasn't quick enough to avoid the follow up punch with his left hand. Hitting her square in the face, it sent her to the ground instantly. Despite her surprising strength, he was stronger, plain and simple.

Quickly he went to bring the hammer down on her face to end the fight, but was parried at the last moment by a blade. Looking to his right, he saw the warrior in blue armour stopping his attack from finishing. The Hero shoulder charged him, pushing him back but not over. The Warrior tried to stab at him with his sword, but Jar managed to deflect it with a swing of his hammer. A few follow up slices from the man pushed Jar back little by little. His swords were weapons of fitnesse, better in the close up fight that was currently happening. Jar needed room to properly swing his weapon, and the warrior knew that. He kept close to the mercenary, stopping him from being able to fully use his weapon of choice.

Finally, the Hero stabbed, and Jar managed to grab his wrist. The human was strong, but his strength was useless in this matter. The groaning of his armour complained against the grip, and the Warrior tried desperately to shake the hold. Before the man had a chance to hit him with his free hand, Jar quickly pushed him away. As the Hero turned around for another assault, he found a warhammer hitting him full on in the breastplate. This dented the armour slightly, stronger than the usual mercenary stuff Jar was used to seeing, and sent the man flying to the ground. Moving quickly, Jar stomped his wrists, forcing his swords from the hands, and kicking the swords a distance away.

Now that the other threat had been dealt with, he returned his attention back to the sorceress. She was just managing to get to her feet, which was surprising considering how much force he had hit her with. Before she was fully up and around though, Jar ran up, spun her around, and gripped her throat. He forced her against the wall hard enough to wind her slightly, yet she still looked defiantly into his eyes. "You made the first mistake when messing with a Durake." His voice, despite his actions, level and calm. "If you start a fight, you better be damn sure the first hit kills us outright." She had yet to say anything yet, but he still needed a 'yes' or 'no' answer concerning the pirate. "Is the pirate Boyd Waters?"

"Next time you grab someone to interrogate, make sure they're unarmed." Jar looked down to see a crossbow pointing at his chest. Where she had managed to hide that, he couldn't even begin to guess. Before he could do anything else though, another voice interrupted them.

"Put the woman down merc!" Jar looked behind him to see a squad of guards with their swords out and the bows ready. Jar stared at them for a moment, before returning his gaze to the woman. An awkward silence filled the air for a moment, before the same voice broke it. "Put her down, or we put you down!" Seeing no other option, he released his grip on Corbina, letting her drop to the ground. The crossbow remained aimed at him for a moment, before the guards spoke up again. "You, lady! Weapon down now! Drop it!" She noticeably hesitated, but returned the weapon to it's rightful resting place.

"I think we're fine now guards. This was nothing more than a misunderstanding." Corbina said, her voice not as level as Jar's was a moment ago, but definitely a lot calmer than what it had been when she wanted him outside. The guards didn't seem convinced, their weapons still ready to be used. Jar then deemed it necessary to interject himself.

"She is correct. This was nothing more than us not understanding what the other was saying. I suggest you take your leave." Jar's tattoos were still growing vibrantly, if somewhat dimming the longer he stood there. A moment passed, before the leader of the group ordered their weapons down. He stepped forward, his eyes meeting that of both him and Corbina.

"Fine, but let me make myself perfectly clear. If I see you two making noise again in my city, there won't be any warnings. We clear?"

Corbina nodded, and Jar simply stared. The guard accepted this for the moment, and they walked back into the crowd. With them gone, Jar returned his gaze back to the woman. The warrior had managed to regain himself, and had regrouped with the sorceress.

"The pirate is indeed Boyd Waters." She said in such a matter-of-fact tone that he found it hard to believe. Jar raised an eyebrow at the statement.

"Just like that you tell me? Was it that hard to just tell me inside the hotel?"

"The pirate means nothing to me. But you - you angered me. You think you are the only one marching about Nolwe Osto that deserves to be respected. I believe I've proven to you otherwise. Plus, I needed to vent." She said this in a tone that was slightly lighter than her previous one, and Jar couldn't help but let a smirk slide onto his face.

"I don't think you have proven that, but I thank you for the exercise. Care to head inside now?" She seemed to smile a slight bit, more malicious than friendly, but nodded her head towards the stairs. The warrior seemed to glare at him for a slight bit longer, but eventually followed the woman inside. Jar watched them go inside for a moment, before sighing to himself and making his way inside. This was going to be an interesting trip, he could just feel it.

Dasciis sat up, incredulous at the exchange. His armour was dented, his chest bruised, but what angered him more than anything was how everyone walked away from the fight as though nothing had happened. Corbina he understood had some extreme mental issues; the man Jarileh did not seem to fare much better. But how could the guards just let them go?

"You there!" He called to who seemed to be the head of the guard. He turned to Dasciis.

"You alright there, Spirean?" The guard, who upon closer inspection was Captain, said to him.

"You just let them go? How can you call yourself a guard if you just let things like this happen as though nothing is wrong?" Dasciis' face was glowing with anger.

"What do you want me to do, arrest you?" He asked with sarcasm in his voice.

"Arrest THEM!" He shouted back.

The guard sighed, then took off his helmet. "Look, Spirean, I know you and your kind, you are all heroes and honor comes before clarity. Let me help you see the big picture. This is a city where all people come, enemies, friends, good and evil. Our job is to keep the city standing. Do you know how many lives might be lost if we demanded to capture Jarileh? Or that witch woman? Do you know what it costs to keep them in custody overnight? If no one was killed, its better to give a warning and set them on their way. With all the people in this city, brawls are going to happen. I can't be there for all of them, and I certainly can't demonize every person who disagrees with another here. No one owns that building, so there isn't even someone to press charges for the damages. Unless you want to..." He emphasized the you, making a point that Dasciis would be the one stirring up far more trouble than either Corbina or Jarileh.

"I understand, Sir," Dasciis said, and turned away. He made for the Spirean inn, where he hoped he could be directed to a blacksmith who might let him borrow his workstation to smooth out his armour. He wasn't ready to face them again.

Gabriel flew out above the crowd, keeping a careful eye on Boyd as he sailed high above his head. It was easy to look like a normal bird if no one knew there was a familiar about; but the pirate had seen him, so Gabriel took extra caution to not be noticed.

Gabriel tried to remember the path that Boyd was taking, but it was hard enough to keep up with him and to find what it was he was chasing, even without having to memorize his surroundings. Eventually, though, Gabriel realized who Boyd was chasing, though the person was shrouded with secrecy and Gabriel could not get close enough to get a description. Eventually, the person that Boyd was following went into a bar, and Boyd waited in the alley. Gabriel set on the roof of the building and waited too.

Then he felt his owner struggle. There was a bond between familiar and owner, one that could stretch many miles before it became unfelt. She was angry, she was hurt, and she was dangerous. Gabriel flew off with a "Caw", forgetting his post, or his secrecy. He glanced down and saw that the pirate had looked up at him; whether Boyd knew who Gabriel was, he could not be certain. He flew back to Corbina.

When he reached her, the fight was over. They moved to the privacy of the small bedroom that she had rented, so that he could talk freely without giving away his sentience. She explained to him what had happened, and in return he explained to her what Boyd was up to.

"Could you take me to that alley?" Corbina asked him.

Gabriel shrugged, lifting his closed wings a bit to emulate the shrugging of shoulders. "I don't think so, but I can try." He responded.

"No, it's okay," she said, and she took him on her arm and gave him a crumb of bread to eat. "You did well."

They talked for a while of what path they would take home and when they would leave. Gabriel realized that Corbina had been offered to travel with the Spirean, who in turn was travelling with the pirate. She explained to Gabriel that she would travel with them for a ways, but mostly to ensure that the pirate didn't do anything to Dasciis. She had come to consider him friend.

"Though I wonder where he is now, and if he thinks the same of me," she lamented out loud, but Gabriel said nothing. Human relationships had never been his expertise.

Night had fallen in Nolwë Osto. Torches burned brightly on street posts, their flames shielded from the gentle night’s breeze by protective glass casings. Boyd and his crew of two made it back on to the main strip where it was near lifeless. The only things stirring were those who were hurrying home, the unseen back alley clamor, and the few city guardsmen at every other corner.

As the pirates progressed down the street toward Werewolf’s Bane, they attracted the attention of the guard. Each time Boyd caught their weary gaze; he smiled and nodded politely as if he and his men didn’t have the look of cutthroat scoundrels. The captain’s antics didn’t fool anyone, he was clearly taunting the guards with his gestures, and they knew it. Their looks told it all, it was the same look Dasciis gave Boyd’s kind. To them; it wasn’t okay that known criminals were free to walk their streets. Boyd thought it funny.

The pirates finally escaped the stares of the city-watch upon entering the tavern. At first glance the dimly lit inn appeared empty aside from the barkeep and the elf at the check-in counter. Good riddance, Boyd thought not wanting to deal with the Spirean or the witch and her wretched bird.

“We need two rooms, three glasses, and a bottle of your most expensive brew” he said casually in passing, as he turned course for the nearest table in the common area. Boyd flopped down and kicked back, and his men took seats around the table.

“Here you are, Sir.” The elven woman said, placing three glasses and a bottle labeled something Boyd couldn’t have pronounced if he tried.

“Thanks, Lass. If you will, put this and the rooms on my good friend Dasciis Arkandis’ tab.” Boyd said smoothly without missing a beat.

“Of course. Is there anything else you’ll need, Sir?” The innkeeper asked helpfully, as she poured the group their drinks.

“Not at all, Lass. You’re perfect,” he replied with that boyish smirk of his.

She nodded with a smile and walked back to the front desk.

“Cheers, Mates! To Spire!” Boyd and his men raised their glasses with a hardy laugh and then a gulp.

It had been a few hours since his fight with the woman now, and he was starting to wonder if she was even telling the truth then. If she wasn't, he would show her exactly what he could when he wanted to kill someone. He was about to get up and confront the witch, when his target walked into the inn with a couple of his mates with him. Jar only took a moment to register the face, and immediately knew that was who he was seeking. Eight years had changed a few things, but the core structure of what used to be a scared young man making a deal had remained the same. He waited until they were seated and turned away from him before he got up from his table. They ordered a drink for all of them, and Jar walked right up behind them.

"Cheers, Mates! To Spire!" There was some laughter, until Jar decided to make himself known.

"How about to meeting old friends?" The laughter stopped immediately as Boyd's mates turned around, their hands on their weapons but not drawing them. Jar analyzed their positions, preparing for what could end up as a brawl...again. The 'Mate' on his right still had the drink in his left hand, and his right hand was reach across to his sabre. It would take a second at most to draw that weapon, and another second to use it.

Grab weapon hand, punch glass hand, spraying face with liquid. Quick disorientation, twist weapon hand, break if necessary, grab neck, spin around. Grab the man underneath the chin, hold in a breaking position. Use as a bargaining chip if necessary, break if negotiations unresponsive. Draw weapon, fight.

The whole scenario took less time to run through his mind than it did to blink, and he looked to the left man. This one had put down his glass, and his sword was already half drawn. The more dangerous of the two, for he could actually get a swing in before Jar would be able to do anything.

Allow first swing, dodge left since right handed swipe or stab will be cross body as per habit and practice. Grab weapon hand, palm elbow, break. Spin, grab head, force into the table followed by a kick to the knee. Hold head in break stance, use as bargaining chip, break if negotiations unresponsive. Draw weapon, fight.

Again, the scenario took less time than a blink of the eye, and Jar turned his eyes to Boyd, who only turned around with all the signature swagger a pirate captain had at that status. "The only friends I see, are the ones beside me, and they ain't old."

"Then let me jog your memory. Eight years ago, before your status as the captain of your own ship. You were incarcerated within a prison among one of your numerous enemies I assume. I was put into the same prison, although with a completely different purpose. As I completed my mission, I ran into a very young man by the name of Boyd Waters. His proposition to me was simple. I get him out of the prison alive, and when he became captain of his own ship, he would owe me a favour." Jar crossed his arms, and glared down at the man. "I always collect, in one form or another."

Boyd's men were uneasy, shifting in place, looking for either Jar to make a move, or Boyd to give the signal to stand down or fight. Waters didn't seem to take the situation any more seriously, and took another swig of the liquid. He then leaned back a bit, a thoughtful expression on his face, but it seemed more mocking than anything. He was clearly not afraid of Jarileh, or his reputation.

"I may recall a Durake back then, and the mention of a favor. I suppose, I would have an easier time remembering if I know what the favor is to be." Jarileh kept his cool, despite the mocking tone slightly edging into the Pirate's speech, and simply shrugged.

"The only favour I ask, is that of passage. I go with you when you next leave port, and I exit when I reach a suitable destination for me to be on my way."

"Deal," Boyd said abruptly, and turned his back to Jar and went back to his drink. "We leave at dawn. Don’t get left,” he said casually before taking a swig of his brew.

"If you leave before I'm on that ship, the next time you see me, it won't be to talk about long past memories." Jarileh nodded, but the Pirate's mates finally released their hands on their weapons, and went back to enjoying the drinks. Jar walked away, going to grab himself a room to sleep in for the night. As he got farther away, he could have sworn he heard one last comment from the Pirate.

"Cheery soul, ain't he?"

Dasciis did not return to Werewolves' Bane until the wee hours of the morning. In fact, he had not wanted to return at all, so angry he was at the whole ordeal. But he realized that if he wasn't there, and he missed his caravan with Captain Waters, it would be no ones fault but his own. He entered the inn, which was dark and quiet, its inhabitants long past gone to bed. The fire was nothing but coals, and he almost decided to turn around when a candlelight shone from the hallway. It was the innkeeper, still dressed in days clothing but obviously woken from sleep. He wondered how she knew he had come in. He was not loud or clumsy. The power of elves baffled him, but he was sure she had some sort of warning ward to alert her of foreign prescence. She looked angry.

"I thought you skipped out," she said, angry tone to her voice.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry but I don't know what you mean."

"You're friend said you'd pay for their rounds, and you are footing quite a bill. I can't let you guys leave without payment." She looked almost sorry for him as he tried not to let anger take over his face. Boyd.

"Sorry for the missunderstanding. You should wake him and demand payment." She opened her mouth as if to argue, but he motioned her to wait.

"He's playing with me. Don't back down. You'll get your money. If he honestly doesn't have it, which I doubt, I'll pay the rest. Please, do this for me." Dasciis hoped she would comply.

She gave an irritated smirk and then said, "Fine. But I ain't waiting 'til morning. I'm collecting it now."

"Thank you," Dasciis replied. "Whatever you don't get, I'll pay the rest in the morning. Goodnight, Miss." And with a polite bow, he went to his previously paid room, not wanting to be in sight when she woke Boyd and demanded his money.



Corbina awoke to the clanking of Dasciis' armour, coming up the stairs. No doubt to most humans, he was all but silent, but to her sensitive ears it was as if a metal beast were stomping about the stairwell. Most of the time, she could block out such noises. But tonight, she had been listening for him. She was surprised he returned. She crept out of bed, the coolness of the room giving her goosebumps. She had changed into a loose shift, something she rarely bothered doing but when in the luxury of an inn, it was nice to get out of her worn clothing. She grabbed her cloak out of impulse for decency, and then cracked open the door right as he was passing by.

The abrupt intrusion in his late night stroll to his room obviously surprised him, which didn't surprise her. She often forgot how spooky she seemed to others, when she could sense things that they could obviously not. He looked at her in silence, that oppressive silence that left her feeling awkward at best, hated at worst. She gulped down her fears and spoke.

"I am sorry for the mess I caused you...I have much to learn...again...when dealing with people."

He gave her a nod, nothing more. It infuriated her, but she refused to let it show. Then again, it was probably obvious.

"I will pay you back for your armour," she offered.

"Don't bother," he finally spoke. "It's done."

She nodded, and then turned away, moving to shut the door. He didn't stop her, so she closed it completely. She sighed, and returned to her bed.

"How about to meeting old friends?"

Boyd’s hand was already resting on his pistol and ready for the draw when he turned to the voice.

"The only friends I see, are the ones beside me, and they ain't old."

"Then let me jog your memory…”


Boyd stared blankly at the constant water drip as it fell in beads from the weathered stone ceiling and formed a miniature puddle in the palm of his hand. Four months in prison could change even the sturdy of willed, and it could be no more so said for a pirate. To jail a pirate was like taking a fish out of water, and Boyd was no different. He needed the weight of the ocean beneath his feet, the sea’s breeze at his back, and the horizon in the distance. But so long as he breathed, he hoped for that day again.


“Boyd, you fool! Snap out of it,” Cidd, Boyd’s cellmate, blurted from the other side of the cell.

“Truthfully, you’re worse than a nagging woman!” Boyd said, glancing over at him annoyingly.

“Oh, well excuse me, pirate. I had no idea you were so busy over there.”

“As a matter of fact, I am busy. Busy plotting my escape. I’ll be sure to write you once I’m free and long gone.”

“HA! You truly are a fool! If you weren’t all day staring at that damn water drip, you might notice the bars surrounding you. Just open your ears, pirate,” Cidd jumped to his feet as he continued to rant passionately. “You hear that?”

The screams of fellow prisoners could be heard echoing throughout the dungeon corridors. Their cries fading in and out like a flame in the cold. The torturous sounds were enough to break even the hardened nerves.

“The torture chamber,” he said it as if Boyd didn’t already know where the screams where coming from. “That’ll be us sooner or later. No sense in denying it with talk of escape.”

“If you want to turn over and play dead, be my guest. But I’m getting out of here.”

“And how do you figure to accomplish that?”

As if in response to his question panicked shouting and the sound of plated armor clanking against itself could be heard advancing down the corridor.

“Sound the alarm! He’s escaping!”

“Hurry!”

Boyd and Cidd both looked to one another curiously as they bolted toward the front of the cell to see what was happening. Just barely Boyd could make out the largest prisoner, he had seen in his time spent in that wretched place, fast moving through the dungeon with three prison guards at his heels in pursuit. Their fight broke out a few cells away but quickly moved in front of his own.

One of the guards neared Boyd’s cell as he attempted to flank the escaped prisoner, and Boyd saw his opportunity. Calmly, he stepped up and reached through the iron bars retraining the neck of the unsuspecting guard in a chokehold.

In a few moments Boyd released the guard where he slid to the ground unconscious. He looked up to see that the escaped prisoner had successfully dispatched the other two guards.

He turned to Cidd, "You were saying?"

The prisoner turned away to move down the hallway, stepping over the guard’s bodies as though they weren't even there. Boyd reached out to the prisoner just as he was about to take off.

“Hey, friend what do you think you’re doing? I just helped you!”

“I didn’t need your help,” the escapee said with a glance.

“Maybe so… But I need yours!”

The prisoner hesitated for a moment as if to give the pirate a moment to be heard.

“I’m a pirate under the Erlingsson flag. For freeing me my clan would reward you handsomely. Riches, woman, anything your loins could yearn, Mate!”

The escapee didn’t seem interested and moved to leave.

“Wait! I’ll be indebted to you!” he pleaded.

The prisoner stopped and turned to face the pirate. He looked to be considering it.

“If I free you, you’ll owe me your life. You’ll owe me until I come and collect. It may be tomorrow or a years from now... ”

“Yes!”

“A favor for a favor.” The escapee held out his hand to seal the agreement.

Boyd reached his arm through the bars and shook the prisoner’s hand. He stepped back from the cell as the man raised his sword high and chopped it over the lock breaking it. Boyd slid the cage door open, stepped through the threshold, and bent down picking up one of the fallen guards swords.

Cidd followed out after Boyd.

“I said you,” the prisoner pointed to Boyd. “I don’t need two of you slowing me down.”

“Hey! Wait just a minute, that’s not--” Cidd had begun to say, but his words were cut short, falling on Boyd’s sword. Boyd had spun around sword first, and ran it through Cidd’s gut.

“Sorry, Mate. But let’s be honest, I’m not doing anything you wouldn’t have done in return.”

With that Boyd withdrew the blade and let Cidd’s dying body slide to the stone floor. He turned back to the prisoner who was staring at him cautiously.

“Relax, Mate. A pirate’s word is as good as gold.” Boyd said with a smirk…


"I may recall a Durake back then, and the mention of a favor. I suppose, I would have an easier time remembering if I know what the favor is to be."

"The only favour I ask, is that of passage. I go with you when you next leave port, and I exit when I reach a suitable destination for me to be on my way."

"Deal," Boyd said abruptly, and turned his back to Jar and went back to his drink. "We leave at dawn. Don’t get left,” he said casually before taking a swig of his brew...

DAY 1

Corbina awoke early, the sun not quite reaching the morning sky. It was still grey out, and dew drops fell way to her fingers as she leaned out the small window that was in her room. She briefly thought of leaving. She could easily walk the path on her own and reach home before that pirate could get his sails up. So why didn’t she leave? Or, more importantly, why didn’t she feel anxious to return home?

In a city as large as Nolwe Osto, Corbina was just another stranger. She was odd, to be sure, but there were many oddities here. Back home, she was a monster, clearly marked so by the color of her eyes. If only there were a magic to take that away…So, it wasn’t the company she was after. She was stalling. It had only taken her until now to realize it. Gabriel fluttered his wings a bit and she absent mindedly scratched his neck. It was something he used to be bothered by, but eventually he grew accustomed to it and even enjoyed it a little. Corbina left Gabriel at the window to enjoy the sunrise while she began getting ready. She changed into her red wrap, putting her leggings and boots on underneath. Her jewelry remained on her at all times, but she took the time to clean her face and hands, since she would not have another chance to do so. The water in the basin was cold, but it didn’t bother her. She went down to the common room, where she thought there would be breakfast waiting…but there was none. She supposed that she was not used to foreign hospitality. Perhaps the inn keeper was not familiar with her people’s customs of sharing one’s roof as well was one’s food to guests.

Corbina was not sure where Jar was staying…but he seemed intent on sticking with the pirate. So was the Spirean. Therefore it seemed that her best plan of action to get the group going was to rouse the pirate and get him going. Everyone else would follow…for whatever personal reason they had to keep watch over him. She wasn’t sure what room he was in, and wondered the bottom hall for a moment, trying to remember what room the innkeeper had given him. She could try smelling him out, but there was so much human stench in the room she would probably have to crawl along the floor like a dog – not something she was planning to do. Ever.

Luckily she heard a small groan that was none other but Boyd Waters. It was a grating noise that put her on edge. It was a noise of relaxment. Laziness. Carelessness. Everything that the men of the swamplands were taught not to be. That was why they were good men. They were hardworking, and respectful.

Corbina went to the door and knocked loudly. She heard more groans and muffled movement and…giggling? She assumed her ears had picked up the sounds from another room. She knocked again. The door flew open, and the innkeeper stared back at Corbina. She was half dressed, and Corbina averted her eyes. Her face was hot with embarrassment. But the innkeeper held her head high as she walked past. “Breakfast will be out shortly,” She said, catching Corbina’s gaze again. Her eyes said, don’t judge me! And so Corbina dropped her head. She wasn’t sure how rank worked out beyond the plains, but in someone else’s house you owed them the utmost respect, no matter what that person might have said or done.

Corbina turned away and knocked again. Her forced respect for the innkeeper soon dissipated in anger toward Boyd. How could he do that to the hard working woman? Defile her in such a way that she has to parade about her customers half naked and just hold her head high while doing so? Her anger grew by the minute.

The door flew open again, and Corbina’s jaw dropped. She could feel a scowl crossing her face, but it wasn’t aimed at the person in the doorway. It was the young elven guide he had kissed at the council. She did not hold her head high, as the innkeeper did. She dropped her head, blushed and muttered an “excuse me” while she ran through the door. She didn’t dare look into Corbina’s eyes. Corbina was glad of it. She was furious. She knocked again, hitting the door so hard it slammed open.

Boyd was standing in the middle of the room, his pants just then being raised to cover him decently. Corbina stared at him in disgust. The rest of his clothes were strewn about the floor, including the sheets to the bed. He was hobbling about the room, shoving things aside, like he was searching for something. He looked up at her as the door slammed, and said “What’s all the commotion out there. Is the tavern on fire?” He went back to searching the room, pausing to put an article of clothing on here or there. “Seen my rum? Oh!” he stepped on his bottle and staggered backward, scooping the bottle up and taking a swig in the process.

Corbina stormed in the room. Boyd said, "Hey there beautiful, mind handing me my shirt just there?" while pointing with his free hand at a spot on the ground. She passed by the shirt, walked right up to him and punched him in the face. The rum splashed over the two of them, and he laughed while rubbing his jaw. It infuriated her. She punched him in the gut, twice as hard. He flew backward against the wall, gasping for air. When he stood again, he was angry.

He grabbed her by the arms, squeezing them so hard she bruised. “You crazy woman –“

“Woman? Don’t you dare call me woman!” She tore his hands off of her and yanked his arm, sending him across the small room. He landed on the bed, and rolled to grab something off of the floor. He pulled out his pistol and pointed it toward Corbina. She didn’t even care, she was seeing red. She began to charge him, and he cocked the gun.

Suddenly her charge was halted by the Spiran. “Move!” she shouted, but he held his ground. It took all of her will not to toss him aside. He placed his hands on her shoulders, putting pressure downward rather than against her. Somehow that pressure eased the blood pounding in her head, and she was able to breath again.

“Your friend had better get her act together if we’re getting anywhere alive!” Boyd shouted, picking up his almost empty bottle of rum, gun still in hand and aimed at Corbina’s head. She scoffed, and marched out of the bedroom. She was as embarrassed as she was angry. She couldn’t control her temper. She was a monster.

Dasciis looked back at Boyd and shook his head. “You have no idea what you are dealing with,” he said as he walked out of the room.

Jarileh hadn't slept too much, mainly waking up every so often to make sure that the pirate hadn't left in the middle of the night. Sounds of people sleeping, and enjoying company could be heard through the rooms, neither of which held Jar's attention at all. So, falling into the pattern of waking up every couple of hours to double check, Jar got the necessary sleep needed for him to function. His high metabolism allowing him function on an amount of sleep that other races would call exhaustion. As morning finally broke through the window to his room though, his stomach growled for some sustenance. Jar made his way down to the lobby to try and grab some food before the rest of the day came into effect.

His weapons holstered, his armour in place, and his stoic personality protruding an aura of possible danger, Jar walked into the lobby to find that breakfast had yet to be served. He made his way to the bar table to find the elven hostess running around completely flustered. Jar said nothing, and waited for her to notice him. After a few moments, her arms filled with plates, she turned and noticed him. She started a bit, and a plate went flying from her grasp only to be caught by Jar right before it hit the table with barely any movement on his part. He placed the plate down on the table, and continued to look at the woman. The only question that he had to ask should have been obvious.

"I'm sorry, breakfast is running a little late today." The rosy colour in her cheeks told him of a reason why that was, but he didn't bother confirming it. She simply took a deep breath and looked at him once more. "So you'll just have to wait mercenary." Jar gave a slight tilt of his head to indicate he didn't care when it was ready, so long as it was before he left. He heard more footsteps behind him, and turned to see a barely clad elven woman making her way through the place, most likely seeking her own room. Normally Jar would have returned to waiting, but then remembered who exactly he had been dealing with the night before.

Pirates. Jar thought to himself as he shook his head, and wandered in the direction that the woman had come from. There was a loud thud as he made his way down the hall, a sound that Jar had made many times by throwing enemies against wooden walls. he quickened his pace slightly, and saw an open door where the sounds appeared to be originating from. As he approached the door, he saw all three of his travelling mates, but rather than interject, he simply leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He watched as Corbina assaulted Boyd, but seeing as she was in no danger of killing the man that he needed, made no move to assist. The Spirean instead did that for him, pacifying her in a way that Jar wouldn't have been able to.

Words were said, and Corbina stormed out of the room past Jar, giving no sign that she noticed him. Probably for the best, since he didn't want to kill her if there was no reason to. Jar looked into the room, his eyes completely uncaring for the events, and showing a subtle hint of boredom at the whole thing. "Are you done?" The Spirean said nothing, choosing to simply give him a look that said 'Stay out of it' and wandered after the woman. Jar watched him go down the hallway for a moment, before turning his attention back to Boyd, leaning once more against the door frame.

"Are they going to be a problem?" His voice giving off more curiosity than concern. Then Jar's demeanour changed as he moved to block the door and prevent the pirate from leaving. His eyes narrowing at the man.

"Are you going to be a problem?"

Dasciis followed Corbina out of the room. She was walking fast, but he caught up to her by the time she reached the common room. As she stopped to pull a chair out from a table, more roughly than was likely wise for the rickety chairs the inn supplied, Dasciis reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder again. He wasn't sure why he had done what he did for her in Boyd's room; it was an old trick he had learned in the Guild, but he had never really had the opportunity to try it. He certainly hadn't expected it to quell her anger so swiftly. He didn't dare try it again though. She was still angry, that much was obvious. But she was no longer blindly furious. She turned to face him as his hand stopped her, and she looked ready to snap at him.

"We have a long way to go, Corbina," Dasciis said before she could start. "And we haven't even started yet. It might be wise to refrain from killing the man whose ship we need. I know how frustrating he can be; it is a common trait among all pirates. I have reason enough to want to kill him myself." Dasciis recalled his family heirloom that he had seen the pirate wearing at the council. He was determined to find out how the pirate had it, and to get it back. "But we need him, and we need him alive. Maybe you should just avoid him for a while." He felt stupid the moment the words left his mouth. They would likely be leaving soon, and there would be no avoiding the pirate. And then they would all be stuck together on his ship. If he didn't find a way to relieve the tension between them, it was going to be an eventful journey. If any of them made it to their destination alive.

Corbina yanked her body away from Dasciis touch. This time, it did not calm her. It was merely a pat of sympathy. She did not need sympathy. She needed an axe to her neck.

Her head was pounding. She could feel the wall that the healers had placed in her mind. It throbbed, that part of her nose right between her eyes. The wall was there, a wall that if broken would send her body reeling through a physical transformation that could never be undone. But the wall was strong, nearly impossible to break, and her own fear reinforced it. She had thought this was salvation, this wall holding the lycanthropy back. It was now feeling more like a cage. She was still a creature, acting on impulse and instinct rather than logic and reason.

Perhaps the prophet had sent her here to die. Or to be locked up. Perhaps that was the grand answer to her strange prophecy.

"Dasciis...It is a mistake, my travelling with you. I've been running in circles avoiding my fate. I don't belong with people any more." As she said it, she imagined walking into the lycan territory and killing as many as she could before they finally consumed her. It seemed like the best way to die. "I cannot do what you ask. I am a broken sorca. No save waiting for me. None would have me. No position or power among the Jasidin. I cannot even control my sickness, let alone wield the fire that I used to master. I thought that I could, and that I could find my way back to humanity. But I am lost. I belong with the wolves now."

“Your friend had better get her act together if we’re getting anywhere alive!” Boyd shouted, picking up his almost empty bottle of rum, gun still in hand and aimed at Corbina’s head. He watched her as she sneered and stomped out of the room. Once she was out of sight, he lowered his weapon, flopped down on the edge of the bed, and rested the pistol in his lap.

“Women,” he breathed, shaking his head.

The Spirean glanced back at Boyd. “You have no idea what you are dealing with.”

“I’ve dealt with plenty of women over the years. They’re all pretty much the same,” he said smirking, but the Hero gave him no response as he moved to exit the room. She does hit harder than any of them, he thought, rubbing his aching jaw. I’ll give her that.

“Are they going to be a problem?”

Boyd looked up to the voice. It was the Durake, standing in the doorway.

“Those two? They’re completely harmless.”

“Are you going to be a problem?”

“I’m a pirate… Do I really need to answer that question?

Now, if you don’t mind, can I get some privacy? As you can see I’m hardly descent.” Boyd said, and gestured down at the fact he was a pair of trousers away from being not clothed.

The Durake looked at him un-amused before leaving and closing the door behind him.



Several minutes later Boyd entered the common area with his two crewmen in tow. He followed his nose to the counter where breakfast had been laid out. Plucking an apple from a bowl of assorted fruit, he turned to his soon-to-be companions who were about the lobby.

“I hope everyone’s morning was as eventful as my own,” he said aloud with a grin and a glance at Corbina who was a few tables away.

“So,” he looked to Dasciis. “I believe our caravan will be departing soon,” Boyd advised before taking a chunk out of the apple. “Everyone here?” he said with a mouthful of fruit.

"No," Dasciis said abruptly. "You are right where you are supposed to be. I need you, Corbina. You have sharp senses and a sharp mind, and I can use that. For as long as we are traveling with Boyd and the mercenary, we are both at risk; but beyond that, I need you to keep the pirate alive for as long as we need him. I do not trust Jarileh, and I don't know why he is so insistent on following Boyd around. But if things run afoul between the two of them, I need Boyd kept alive. Do you think you can help me with that?"

Corbina's eyes narrowed. "Why do you want him alive? Why is he of any interest to you -" Corbina quickly closed her mouth as her eyes darted behind Dasciis. He turned around, just as Boyd walked into the room.

“I hope everyone’s morning was as eventful as my own,” he said aloud with a grin and a glance at Corbina. Dasciis could almost hear unspoken words through the short glance they shared.

“So,” Boyd said, looking at Dasciis. “I believe our caravan will be departing soon." Boyd took a large bite from an apple before asking if everyone was present.

"Caravan?" Dasciis asked. "You never mentioned a caravan before. I thought we were heading straight to your ship, and with all haste?" Dasciis wondered if Boyd was worried about Jarileh as well, and perhaps felt more comfortable with as many eyes and hands present as possible. Somehow Dasciis doubted the presence of a few merchants would deter the mercenary from spilling blood if he felt the need to. "Either way," Dasciis continued, "yes, we are all here. And I have no arguments with leaving 'soon'."

So far the events of the morning were anything but what Jarileh had hoped for. Among other things, a confrontation had already presented itself, along with the already volatile sorceress and her Hero bodyguard. Jar had left Boyd to make himself appropriate to be seen in public, if that was even possible for a pirate, and quickly seated himself at the counter, waiting for the hostess to notice him and take his order. If anything was a hindrance as well as a benefit to the Durake, it was their metabolism. While it allowed them to heal much more quickly naturally, it also shortened their life span, and required constant nutrition. As the hostess finally got around to serving his meal, he was met with an either curious, or disapproving glare from the woman due to the sheer amount of food on his plate. He paid her, and dug in.

The Hero and the Sorceress were a few tables away, but Jar could still hear bits and pieces of the conversation. It seemed mainly to focus on the woman herself, which didn't concern the mercenary, but there was also something about a lack of trust towards him. It was ironic, when he thought about it. The woman started the fight, and had the authorities not stopped them, he would have killed her. Sure, there was that whole issue of the crossbow to the chest, but if she missed, he would have healed. Jar had managed to down half his meal before the pirate wandered back into the lobby, chomping down on an apple, and making himself seem like he was in control. Jar didn't even turn to look as the man strutted in, seeing him in his peripherals was enough.

Jar quickly finished what was left of his meal, pushing his plate back towards the kitchen, and turning around and leaning back on the counter. He was all prepped and ready to go, his sword at his waist and his hammer on his back. His armour, while not as extravagant or protective as that of the hero, had served him well and showed it's weathered status to the group with burn marks, slash marks, and areas where it looked like parts of the material had been cut off. "Been waiting on you." Was all Jarileh said to the Boyd, making his point known through his tone he didn't like waiting when a time and date was set, but knowing he didn't have a choice in the matter at the moment. The mention of a caravan made his eyes turn to Boyd for a moment before shrugging it off. He was here for a ride, not a job. Instead he pushed off of the counter seat, and walked over to the table where the other two were sitting.

"Can I trust you to keep your anger in check?" Jarileh asked in a neutral tone to Corbina, but hoping to get the point across that he wasn't the only one to be watched. Without waiting for a reply, he turned back towards Boyd, and nodded towards the door. His sign that they should start to moving. He was tired of sitting around in an inn.