Light through the Darkness[Don, Perun, Duma][closed]

[Remus]

They were finally in Lycia. Once they'd reached the first town, a small village within Tania, there was a special satisfaction nestled deep within. Just navigating the frigid landscape of Ilia had seemed so difficult. Even getting through Sacae had felt like such a difficult task. That being the case that it was, how could he not feel overwhelming joy? Sure, there were more serious aspects. Losing Carter still hung within his mind like a lingering burden. However, he knew that the children were ultimately, his only true priority. Remus would, and had already, willingly thrown himself before harm to shield them without a moments hesitation. That they were able to come home as a reunited family was the one thing he could shoulder loss over, without weighing himself down by the actual overwhelming burden of said loss.

With both Amelia and Owain sleeping in their beds to the small inn room they'd rented(Or so he hoped, it was always 50/50 with those two), and the others enjoying their evening presumably, Remus had taken to quietly exiting the inn. He'd managed to find a fairly isolated section within the small town's walls, where grass had been left to grow. A few rocks idled harmlessly, but these were useful to him. Tania was known for a large deposit of stone littered through out, and the quality was said to be second to none. These two boulders before him were almost up to his chest in height, and both large enough that he could rest upon them as if a bed. They..would suit perfectly indeed.

Though the clear night sky had a brilliant webway of stars laid out in full along the darkened backdrop, and the full moon gave plenty of pale light to see by, an even more intense flash of light briefly cast everything into perfect clarity. It pulsed with radiance of life, only to dwindle back into non-existence as if nothing had happened; leaving the night as dark as it had been moments prior. An intense hiss raced through the air, as light burst forth again and shone with a sharper intensity than the last. There was a pause, the sound of three bursts, and then it faded again.

Remus lifted his left hand upwards, focusing on that same thought he'd dredged up prior, when fighting the gargoyles. Though he'd still not told the others yet, given the situation it was involved in with Nayru's identity and what not; this not making it easy however to suppress his desire to tell them he'd developed light magic. By focusing on his desire to protect Amelia and Owain, by making it the single thought which he focused all will power on; he gained the determination to call forth his magic. The spirit needed to wield Elimine's holy trademark. His left hand burned brilliantly as if made of light itself, and rays of light shone between his fingers and out from the sides of his hand before he swept it as if banishing the rock. A trio of bolts hissed outwards before peppering the rock, and burning red heated holes into it; the molten slag cooling swiftly as the intense energy dissipated. The priest lifted his hand, as he took brief seconds to hone more light inwards. This was it. His ultimate wish, so many years ago, had finally come to fruition. Now, he had the power he wanted. No longer would he be forced to stand on the sidelines and hope others would be okay. He could fully shield others, both with healing and might.

-----

As the priest continued to practice within the night's sky, a figure quietly moved atop the wall near which the flashing light surged. Draped in a soft white shade, it blended nearly flawlessly into the stone wall which was clad in pale moonlight. Though brief, the hood swiveled as the figure gazed in the direction of the flashing light. In those brief instances before Remus fired his energy bolts, the blue scruffy hair was plainly visible; his lapis hued robes giving even less difficulty in discerning his identity. The figure crouched slightly, now almost entirely obscured and began to silently observe.

[Donovan]

They had finally made it to Lycia, food and drink were flowing steadily, Owain and Amelia were safely asleep in their bed (which the Silver Tongued mercenary only knew for certain because he had set Kitchi to watch them and make damn sure the little terrors didn’t sneak off yet again). The quartet of mercenaries sat around a bar table as Remus stood to leave their sixtop. A pint of Tanian stout was nearly empty in front of Donovan, his delicious stew long gone, the bowl licked clean. While the others talked and laughed, Donovan joined in feeling like they’d accomplished something impossible by making it as far as they had. There had been so many unimaginable obstacles, and yet they still lived. They were still here, alive and well. His eyes fell on the sixth chair at their table. Almost all of them, at least. He hadn’t known Carter particularly well, they had little in common beyond profession, and a particular taste in drink. But still, his loss was beyond a tragedy.

There are somethings in your life that are so traumatic you cannot ever forget a single detail. Donovan had three such memories. The feeling of his dad’s blood seeping into Don’s cloths, as the son held the father in his final moments. The sound of complete and utter terror and pain and agony as Donovan was stolen away from certain death, and Henry gave his own in his stead. And the look in Carter’s eyes in the moment before he was entirely engulfed in flame. Fear and Bravery and, most strikingly of all, not an ounce of regret. The Silver Tongued Mercenary had barely known his Ilian companion. And yet. In that instant he knew that he had looked upon the face of a hero.

Donovan finished his drink and stood up to leave the table. He needed fresh air. And another drink. He walked toward the bar and raised a single finger. The barman nodded and poured him another glass. Don left a single coin on the counter and stepped outside. His pint glass clutched firmly in his hand. He’d been a little on edge lately. He’d only lost a few companions in his life. He was not used to it yet. He feared more than anything that one day, he would be as numb to death as Michael had been. A blast of light drew his eye and the mercenary slowly wandered toward it, the Sacaen steel sword’s pommel gently held in his hand. But what he found was not fearsome or hostile. In fact it was more surprising than anything. The mercenary silently watched his employer practicing light magic. He knew that he wasn’t the only one who had felt the impact of Carter’s death. Remus was a gentle hearted man, he most likely felt as responsible as Donovan did. But despite wanting to allow the priest his privacy, Donovan knew that one of their companions would eventually become curious and go searching. He wanted the chance to talk to Remus before they did. “So… You’re going to join us on the front lines, then, huh?” The silver tongued mercenary spoke softly. He did not wish to startle his employer and friend.

[Duma]

Tania

At long last the group had made it into the Lycia, now while this was an obvious cause for celebration. Duma was not in a cheerful mood. Ever since their encounter with the swordsman with the flaming sword, the green haired swordsman had been unusually quiet. He spoke when he had to but that was about it. Throughout, the journey he kept himself vigilant. He took extra shifts on guard duty while the others slept. He was the first to go scouting, first to go hunting, first to check the rooms, he did not want them to ever be caught off guard like that again. This shift between “standard frumpy Duma” to “quiet paranoid guardian” was subtle at first. At first it was just out of precaution. The group had taken a substantial beating during the fight and everyone needed ample time to recover. But as bodies of the others were being recovering,

Duma realized something while he was digging graves for the men who died that day. Something that he had kept to himself as the weeks rolled on and their travels continued. This something was enough to have any sensible mercenary back out of their contract for their own safety. Duma spent many sleepless nights dueling with the notion that he SHOULD back out of this group while he still had his life. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He had grown attached to the small band of mercenaries and the children. The little devils had the rare talent of coaxing smiles out of the swordsman. And abandoning them in the middle of the countryside would not sit well with his conscience. But now they were in Lyica. Tania to be exact. They weren’t in some shanty town out in the boonies, this was a proper town, in a proper territory. Duma could leave the group today and by tomorrow there would be some other mercenary in his place.

While the others enjoyed the comforts of the pub, sharing stories, laughing at jokes, Duma simply sat there with no expression. He had eaten his fill of delicious stew and opted to drink tea rather than mead. He was going to need his wits about him for what he was about to do. He glanced over at the empty chair next to him. A chair that should have been taken by Carter. That boy should have been here drinking and making merry rather than being a charred corpse in a hole. I’m sorry. I didn’t get to know you. I should have been better informed. I could have.. prevented your death. Told you what we were going to get into. Don’t worry. I won’t let that happen again. Your sacrifice will not go in vain. Duma gave a bit of a heavy sigh then got up. He wordlessly dismissed himself from the table and walked outside. Perhaps the others could sense something off of him. A strange mix of tension and determination. Tonight was the night he would clear any doubts he had with the priest.

Donny managed to catch up to Remus first. And perhaps that was for the best. Duma needed a moment to mentally steel himself for this conversation with the priest. He’d been keeping in all of his negative emotions underneath this facade of a quiet and calm demeanor. Depending, on the priest’s answers he wasn’t sure if he could continue to keep himself calm and collected. He took a deep breath in through his nose, closed his eyes, and let that same breath out of his nose. He waited until Donny and Remus finished talking before he spoke.

“Remus. We need to talk.” His voice was flat and stoic.

[Perun]

Anger. Anger was what had sat in Perun's chest, a slumbering dragon waiting to burst from behind the giant's thick orange fur and start burning the whole countryside. His anger was not sated by time, it only festered like an open wound. There was a man walking the earth who had bested Perun Volsungg. He had hit Perun with his dainty little hands, and Perun had been thrown through the air, and crashed through a building. Some little tiny man, the size Perun had been when he was barely an adult, had bested him at strength. To lose a feat of strength to a person of his valley would have blemished his pride, but to lose to one of these little people of thin shoulders and little hair made him feel useless. For Donovan, and by extension the rest of the men taking the children on their little journey, he was only useful for his prodigious strength. If any random mercenary they could find was strong enough to defeat him in a contest of might, he would no longer be of any value to them.

So it was that as the others left their seat at the tavern to speak with Remus, Perun stayed seated, and ordered another drink. He'd not liked the stew very much, it had fallen into the common trouble with a stew, that you got what you couldn't see. The serving he'd been allotted was all onion, and Perun hated onion. It felt like eating slugs, which Perun had stopped doing when he was six. So, to get the taste off his tongue, he was on his fifth drink. He had started with whiskey, and had three glasses, two fingers each. His fingers, not the small woman who'd come to pour it. Then he'd switched to ale, and after the second decided he'd had enough. His head wasn't spinning, but it felt light. He got up then, to follow the other men outside. However, when he saw them, he decided he shouldn't corner them. He had nothing to say for himself, they'd all spoken a number of times since resuming their travel, but he'd yet to form the words that could convey how small he felt.

Instead, he turned, and walked in the direction of nowhere special. For a time he walked, under the night sky with a chill to the air, until he started to hear the roar of another tavern. Deciding he could take a few more drinks, he began to make his way towards the sound, and eventually made it out with a few lights shining through a pair of windows. Standing around outside the door was a group of five men around his age, all in long cloaks that hid most of their bodies. They all gave him strange looks ranging from curiosity to delight, but what was odd was that their was a familiarity in the way they looked at him. Deciding to ignor it, Perun brushed past them and entered the tavern, where he saw something that delighted him. It was a pair of massive men arm wrestling. Perun smiled and watched, as one man hooked the other's arm and pinned him in a flash. The pople watching all threw up their arms and cheered, and the winner took a drink from a large tankard, with the loser signifying to a server that they'd need another one. Then the man got up, and without looking around the winner said, "Is there anyone else, huh? Anyone else who thinks he can best me in a bout of strength?" "Yes." The man grinned and swung his head so that he could see Perun.

His grin disappeared. Perun made his way to the table, and without a word sat his elbow down. It was his left, the weaker side, but he'd seen that it was the other man's dominant one. He was a big fellow, probably a miner or some sort of the same. The man gripped Perun's meaty hand, and the giant wrapped his fingers over the man's one by one, and the crowd was silent. A man at the table, likely the big man's friend said, "Go!" The man tried to shove Perun's arm down fast. The meat arm didn't turn. The man's face was visibly strained, and as he wrenched his mouth, and shifted his shoulders, Perun still didn't move. Then, the miner tried to hook Perun's arm, and finally the orange giant moved. He moved the other man's hand so that his hand hit the table, and the crowd cheered again. Perun laughed and looked around the tavern, and saw that the strange men from outside had followed him in, and were whispering amongst themselves.

[Remus]

"So… You’re going to join us on the front lines, then, huh?"

The priest froze with upraised arm at this, entirely frigid as the radiating light from his hand instantly scattered. The flow of magic had been cut, and he instantly lost the focused will that he relied on for his magic. The lapis haired priest slowly turned around to see the young mercenary Donovan standing there looking at him. Huh..what was best to say? He'd never really kept a secret before...but perhaps the example of a dear friend would guide him best? Honesty.

"Yes. Simply casting barriers and healing others..it isn't enough. It never was. At-least now, I can help protect others easier. I won't be as useless."

The warm smile upon his visage was one of genuine contentment. He was grateful. Very much so. He'd never longed for something more so than he had the power to protect his friends and loved ones. It was this very thing which had spurred him on to try for so many years, with so little results, in terms of magical power. Though he wasn't sure what might've been the precise spark, or catalyst in this one moment, he was just grateful. He parted his lips to speak further, until the figure of Duma appeared in the evening's twilight.

His tone sounded very serious. However Remus shifted his poise, weight resting upon his staff as he gazed towards the taller older man with a tilt of his head, quietly blinking and nodding before he shuffled somewhat in place to adjust his robes. He'd almost been in a position where stepping forwards would've caused him to trip.

"Ah..is everything okay?"


-------

They were gone. The guards had left! Now was there chance!

Shadowy figures crept through the tavern across from the inn where the group had been staying. They darted through the alleys as they wound about, quietly moving with almost inhuman silence while managing to approach the group; albeit hidden from a distance.

All the while, still blended admist pale stone wall and soft moonbeams, the light blue/white robed figure quietly observed the scene. Where there had been one man practicing light magic, now stood three; two with blades and both speaking to the blue haired priest.

[Donovan]

Donovan couldn't help but smile at the lapis haired priest’s self satisfaction. He’d known his charge for a fair while, and every time they’d faced trouble, Don could see the look of frustration painted across Remus’s face. At least now, the healer would be able to feel like he wasn’t defenseless. “Just don’t get any ideas about not needing us meat shields anymore. Job might not pay much, but I’m not looking to lose a gig because my employer gets delusions of grandeur.” He clapped the priest on the shoulder and smiled, the sick in his stomach from dwelling on Carter subsiding. He took a sip of his drink as the Priest began to speak and was interrupted by Duma, who’d been stoic and aloof beyond their daily training sessions ever since the attack. Well this isn’t going to go well. “Hey there, Duma. You sound about as happy as a skinned snake.”

He looked Duma up and down, the Swordsman hadn’t been getting enough sleep. that much was clear. Donovan was sure that their near fatal experience had left as many mental scars as it had physical ones. Donovan had certainly felt responsible for their companion’s death. But now that he thought about it, Duma and Perun had always been, in the young merc’s, untouchable. Both incredibly skilled, Duma impossibly fast, and Perun unimaginably strong. And yet they both had been bested by a single man, almost dying despite all of their forces combined. It was certainly a blow to one’s sense of purpose, and he looked at Duma with a new found sense of understanding. Perhaps he was less stoic and more, well, humiliated.

[Duma]

Duma kept his gaze towards the priest’s feet. Normally, he’d be happy at anyone’s progression in their field of choice. But not this time. He felt that the priests sudden acquisition of light magic was too little too late. Another version of him might have offered some kind words but he simply stood there in silence with a neutral expression. He didn’t even humor Donny at his analogy of sounding like a skinned snake. Or maybe he was as logically a skinned snake wouldn’t speak or say anything. He focused on keeping his breathing steady.

There were so many negative thoughts that were flooding the swordsman’s mind and all of them were trying to push themselves forward towards his mouth. But each thought, each word, each emotion, felt as if it had gotten caught right where his adam’s apple was. He cleared his throat then shifted his head up so he could look the priest in the eyes.

“Remus. When.. we first met and you told me your story.. I.. believed you. I trusted you. Respected you. But now..I’ve.. lost that trust. I think you are a liar… a deceiver… and now that Carter is dead.. you are a murderer too.” He could feel the anger welling up inside him.

“So, I will give you one opportunity to answer me honestly. That answer will determine if I continue to stay in your company and finish this journey or if I leave.” His hands moved onto his sword hilt out of instinct. He gripped the handle but did not draw it. Control. Breathe. Breathe.

“After that day..” He shook his head again. One word at a time.

“That day. The day those men came after us.. Those men.. the ones who killed Carter… They were no ordinary kidnappers. I know how kidnappers operate. I know how they steal children. And None of them.. None of them would ever try steal children like that. In broad daylight.. with guards around.. people around.. it’s too risky. Too sloppy. It.. would compromise their identities.. Normal kidnappers do not and would not pick fights like they did..” His eyes narrowed.

“Those men were contract killers. Hired hit men. Men who were paid to kill us. Men who have targeted you. Which means.. you pissed off someone pretty f*cking important.. And you did NOT tell us that...” He gritted his teeth.

“Do you understand..what that means?

[Perun]

As he laughed, a bit of the anger deep within him slipping away, a tall stein of beer was set before him. As strangers began to clap him on the back and ask his name, Perun threw his head back, and downed the whole thing in one go. He threw the tankard against the wall, and shouted, "Perun is what you are being able to call Perun!" A number of the men in the tavern lifted their mugs and shouted Perun! Another man bought Perun a drink, a pint of some lager, and as Perun started to drink it, another man came and sat in front of him, putting his arm on the table. He was a big man, but not big enough. Perun, taking another deep drink from the pint, put his own arm in the position, and nodded to let the man begin. Once more, he merely held the man in place for a few seconds. Then as the man strained and pushed, Perun finished if his pint, and pinned the man. More cheers and laughter came as the other man shrugged and motioned for another drink for Perun.

Brandy, vodka, wine, beer, ale, gin, sambuca, absinthe, whiskey, bourbon, rum, beer, moonshine, airag, and beer. He kept on drinking, and the whole time he didn't have to pay for a single one. His smile became quicker, and his laugh became easier. He felt as if he had become friends with every soul in the tavern, and as they kept passing him drinks, he kept taking them and knocking them back. Eventually he had arm wrestled nearly every man in the place save the cloaked men who sat quietly around a table together. He hadn't wrestled every other person however. A slim young woman with long straight blue hair sat down across from Perun, and placed her arm in the position. She winked at the orange giant, and the giant's massive mouth formed a massive grin as he gripped her small hand. As the girl began, Perun began to let his hand go, until he was just above the table. Then his hand stopped, and the woman looked at him with a look that suggested she was asking for somehting very nicely. Perun's hand hit the table. The cheers hadn't been louder the whole night.

As Perun gave the server a few coins for the woman's drink, one of the cloaked men put a hand on his burly exposed shoulder, "Hello sir, is your name Perun Volsungg?"

[Remus]

What?

He couldn't tell why Duma was saying such horrible things..but he was visibly taken aback. The lapis haired priest however felt the slightest unease. That single statement of Duma's. With the gentle grace of a blacksmith's hammer it fell upon what felt like his very soul.

"you are a murderer too."

Murderer?

His pulse quickened. Within the back recesses of his mind, the smallest flame lit. No. All of his life. Every moment. He'd dedicated every ounce of his being towards protecting others. Helping others. Every time he'd done anything..it'd been purely to assist others, as he felt that was his calling. When they'd been attacked, and the children taken, Carter had been one of the first out there to try and protect them. He'd protected Donovan and Remus, when the burst of fire intent on lethality came for them.

No.

It started as a faint reverberation in the back of his head. Pale skin, absent of color and he felt his pulse so abhorrently loud that it seemed to fill his ears. For the first time. Possibly ever, and certainly as far as he could recall...the priests expression darkened. All traces of a smile left his lips. A man of almost child like innocence, felt the crawling biting flames beneath his skin as his right hand slowly clutched his staff so tightly that his knuckles bled white. The faint hissing of magic unconsciously radiating around him as his thoughts turned into a singular unbridled fury. The light burning from his hand, and in moments his entire body was almost blinding. The space directly around him as if cast into sunlight; all the while Remus found himself nearly crippled by his inner anguish. Air began to grow almost dense around the priest as the sheer abundance of energy gathered to him.

It was almost crushing. That he had not been able to save Carter. He was a priest. A healing man. Yet he'd been unable to save him. This wound festered. It burned. As the priests now practically illuminated gaze leveled squarely onto Duma, an expression of unbridled loathing and rage at the accusation of murder stained his visage. Perhaps it hurt all the more because of his guilt, and the fact that as a healer he'd failed his singular duty. It was hard to be aware of his surroundings honestly. As if everything was white noise. Before however, Remus could become aware, or even possibly make a mistake, a voice cut off the thoughts and through sheer familiarity snapped him from his stupor.

----


"My my my~ Every time we meet I swear you've got another surprise for us~!"

----

The priests thoughts scattered instantly. That was a voice, he'd not heard in literally months. The priest turned sharply to look around, the radiating light instantly fading from him as he gazed upwards to see a single figure clad in icy blue cloak; sitting atop the wall with pale legs dangling from it as if idle upon a swing. He abruptly yelped in surprise, before a wide smile crept upon his face.

"Lillisette!"

His sister gazed to him, a grin upon pale skinned lips as she slid her hood down. Snowy white long silk like strands of hair caught the breeze to brush to the sides, and she slowly pulled herself up to stand atop the wall now gazing down at the trio of men. Despite a staff resting upon her back, she did not draw it as her body flickered from sight; winking back into existence with a brief flash as she warped from atop the wall down to the ground near the trio. Internally, Remus rolled his eyes. His sister, though he loved her, was so uncaring of what others thought of her, that she wantonly used her magic for even the smallest of acts.

The priest, having not forgotten about his friends, turned to smile at them both; the familiar priest they knew back as he happily gestured to the woman.

"Ah! This is my sister! Lillisette!"

Despite the woman politely bowing her head towards both Duma, and Donovan, the woman would lift a thin prodding finger to poke at her brothers shoulder slightly.

"I believe, that I am inclined to agree with your tall scruffy friend here; though I wouldn't call you names about it. You, little brother, have been getting in over your head. It also seems, like you haven't been using your head."


The priest lifted his gaze, a look of confusion on his face as he tilted his head.

"What do you mean?"

The woman took a step back, one hand resting on her slender waist as she raised the other. Her fingers began to ascend as she counted off the points.

"You get jumped by men in Ilia. Twice. You get attacked in Sacae. You fight assassins in Bern, Yes brother, I know you find it hard to believe, but there are men who kill for a living. You fight monsters in Bern. I'm told you were at that sacaen city when they had their skirmish with armies and monsters. "

Remus rubbed the back of his neck once more, still at a loss. Both as to how his sister knew of every last exploit of his, but also why he was being scolded when every instance had been either him helping others, or self-defense.

"I...don't see why that's me causing any problems though? I didn't start any of those Lilli.."

This time, when she closed her palm and opened it, a gout of blue flames burst from her palm. Both cutting her younger brother off, and grabbing his attention in his scatter-brained state.

"Then your not thinking hard enough. Did you even listen to your fuzzy friend? He's got a point. Remove the bits with the monsters. You were assaulted four times little brother. In three different countries! Your unlucky, but no one's that unlucky."

While she let the cogs turn in her brothers head and him connect the dots, she leaned to the side to turn her pale hued gaze directly towards Duma and Donovan, before chiming in with a far less chiding, and almost musical toned voice. "Thank you for keeping my dunder head of a brother safe thus far~" She leaned back to the front and poked at her brother with the hand not containing magical flames. "Get what I'm trying to say yet, big dummy?"

[Donovan]

Things went unfortunately down hill at a very rapid speed. Don watched as Duma dug a hole deeper and deeper into poisoned soil, and Remus became more upset than the Mercenary had ever seen him before. It was with a sudden surge of horror that the Silver Tongued mercenary saw his fencing instructor’s had flit toward the hilt of his sword. Remus seemed to be positively glowing in his rage, and Don could see that a potentially bloody end for either of them was on the horizon.

“ENOUGH.” He commanded, his voice was surprisingly strong and stern, and he somehow had a great flooding of memory of how his father would have to speak to the troupe during their many heated arguments over the romantic entanglements of performers. “Duma, you are my teacher and my friend, but if your hand goes near your sword again, you will have no relation to me but foe. I know you want answers, but do you genuinely think I haven’t been asking my—“ An ethereal voice rang through the yard where the three men stood at odds, cutting off the thespian in a strange, lyrical refrain.

The mercenary’s attention swung to see a strange and beautiful woman at the top of a wall. She sat with her legs dangling and suddenly disappeared, only to pop back into existence beside the trio. Don could not help but be impressed by the theatrical nature of it all. He saw that her hair was so blonde that it was nearly white, and she had the most remarkably ice blue eyes. Her entire body was covered by a beautiful blue cloak, and she was adorned with various gems.

Donovan took a sip of his drink, and nearly spat it out as Remus made the most bold statement of his life. “This is your sister, Preacher?! Really?” She barely nodded toward the pair of mercenaries before poking her brother in the shoulder and laying out the things Don had began to suspect in Bern, no slavers were as powerful as the Ilian Reaper. “She’s right, Remus. It just all doesn’t add up. I didn’t even know you were attacked in Ilia, but I’ve been thinking about it ever since that mad man attacked us. They wanted to kidnap the kids. And they never once put you in the line of fire, despite you being the only thing keeping the lot of us alive. They wanted to take you, too. And those bandits that ambushed you in Sacae? They were terrified of something, or someone. It wasn’t some simple raid, either, They were targeting the children.

“Look, no one suspects you of actually trying to put us all in harm’s way,” he shot a scornful look at Duma, “But there is definitely a connection between all of this. And I doubt it’s just going to go away after we get to Laus. That monster is still out there. And in any story, you don’t just introduce a monster of that caliber to never see it again. Mark my words, that loose end will be coming back to haunt us.”

[Duma]

"He's not getting it!" Duma shouted at Donovan after his outburst. Duma gritted his teeth. He was in no mood to deal with Remus's ignorance or Donovan's urge to defend the blue haired priest. He did not want to resort to fighting. Duma wanted to avoid the fighting. He wanted to talk. He wanted answers. And almost as if the gods had heard him and his frustrations, answers were coming. These answers were coming from another blue haired person that was not Remus. Remus introduced the magician cloaked in blue as Lissette. He looked at her for a moment and then looked away. The way she used magic, her frame, and attitude, it reminded him of Mila.

"Finally! Someone who makes sense! Thank you!" Duma let out a frustrated sigh and seemed to relax his pose. HE was still angry especially after hearing that Remus had been attacked on multiple occasions in three different countries. And the fact that one of those countries was Ilia. He raised his hand to his forehead and used two fingers to rub the sides.

"Let me get this straight. Remus.. you were attacked on four separate occasions in three different countries. And you did not tell us that either! Did you not think that all those attacks were related? Or maybe you should have told us.. your guards that you were being followed? That your kids were in danger? This.. information.. could have helped us. We could have been more vigilant.. we could have planned better.. we could have prevented death." He could feel a shiver down his spine.

"Donny you kind of get it. But allow me to explain further.. The Illian reaper is alive. He knows who we are. He knows our names. Our faces. People like him do not stop. They will target US in order to get to Remus. Not directly.. but indirectly. Depending on who Remus pissed off.. and what sort of power and wealth they have.. we may end up going home to dead relatives. To dead friends. To dead villages." He curled his hand into a fist. He put his hand down and turned around he didn't want to look at either Donny or Remus.

[Perun]

The cloaked men had slowly come to stand near the taproom, a short distance behind Perun. One of them however, the one speaking with the now slurring giant stood directly behind him, and loomed over the seated northerner. He was quite tall for an outsider, Perun thought, probably as tall as Donovan. His hair was graying at the temples, but he was still young enough that he had a bit of power to the way that he stood. Most men that stood in sight of Perun showed a bit of fear on their face, this man did not.

He had asked the orange giant if he was very much himself. Perun turned completely from his chair and rose, his head spinning as his head lifted above the other man's. The world seemed to be moving about around him like the map of the world rested on the floor of a ship caught in a storm. Perun looked down at the man, which did not provide a very long way to spy, and said, his speech slurred and twisted, "Thhhhihs man is be being the one who peeopleple are calling Perun. Who are iis your are beig sssss'posed ta be?" The man looked up at him and spoke, his voice clear as a man who'd never touched a drop, "My name is Jacen, I am a part of a group that has been looking for men of unimaginable strength like yourself. We have a room at an inn only a short way away, if you would be willing to follow me, we would be able to discuss a proposition I believe you'd find quite interesting."

Perun was drunk. Drunk enough to believe running off with mysterious not too friendly strangers seemed like a good idea. "Perrrrun will be coming with you iff your are be lead way."

[Donovan]

“Duma, do not talk to me like I am some hair brained child who’s starting to question the concept of infinitity. Shockingly, many of the concerns that you have brought up were things I have questioned myself.” The Silver tongued mercenary was positively fuming. For the first time in ages, he was losing control of his temper. His charming, carefree mask melting away to the brutally honest intellect beneath. “Clearly there is something greater going on here that the rest of us didn’t know about, but how in the 7 GODDAMN HELLS could you possibly be so blind to think that Remus intentionally put the kids and our lives in danger!?” The thespian’s voice rang out with rage.

“This priest fought by our side, he lost a friend the same as us. He nearly died to heal our wounds. Unlike you, he is not a seasoned mercenary. Unlike me, he has not —” The mercenary caught himself, realizing that he did not know if Lillisette was a danger to his mother and himself, “been trained in how to lie and manipulate. How would he assume that all of these attacks, spread out over 3 countries were related? Would knowing this information have helped us against that monster? Yes. Of course it would have. But how would we have had any clue that they were there that day, even if we had been keeping a closer watch? And you saw how fast they were. Michael moved with superhuman speed none of us could hope to contend with. They were better armed and had horses. No amount of running would have kept them from catching up to us. Use the head you supposedly have under that mullet.”

“You treat both of us like tottering infants, yet you are the only one who has been fool enough to act like a petulant child. You’ve driven yourself to utter exhaustion trying to play sentinel at all hours. You’ve become paranoid to the point that you are nearly drawing your sword on a man who’s saved your life on multiple occasions. You lost your composure and attacked me with such desperation in training that one of us could have been crippled. Or killed.

“Sure. We could have been more vigilant. We could have planned better. There’s even a chance that we could have saved Carter… But it’s in the past. And there was no way to know that Michael had that f**king sword. A confrontation with him would have ended with one of us dying, I’ve thought it over a thousand times. But there’s no escaping that sword.

“What does the Reaper know? Our first names and what we look like? Guess what, Duma, he doesn’t have any means to finding us unless his master is the Herald himself. We haven’t done enough great deeds to have our names written in any history books. How do you expect Michael to be able to find the friends and family of a few generic mercenaries when all he has is our faces and a few names. Sure, Perun stands out in a crowd, but I doubt he has much to worry about with his family, since every goddamn one of them is as fierce a warrior as he is.”

Shaking with rage, Donovan took a breath. and regained his composure. Almost. “Stop being a patronizing fool, Duma, and use your head. We are all on the same side. ”

[Duma]

“A sword is only as dangerous as the person who uses it. Alone, a sword is just a weapon. A piece of metal attached to a hilt. Harmless, unless some idiot happens to trip and fall on it. This applies to magical blades like the Ilian Reaper. There is always a way around a sword. There is always a way around it’s owner. We.. just couldn’t find it.” Duma was able to speak, that part calmly. He took deep breaths trying to regain what little composure he had. He closed his eyes then shook his head. No, he wasn’t done with his rant. He had to keep talking. He had to let everything out in the open.

“The events of that day keep playing in my head! They play in my brain like some play I have to sit and watch over and over! Wondering if there was something inside that memory that I missed! Something, that I should not have missed! Something, that might have kept Carter and the rest of us safe. I find nothing! Nothing! And it’s driving me insane. Yes, you're right, i’ve been trying to play sentinel at all hours. Yes, I've been forgoing sleep! Yes, I lost my composure! This has been weighing me down. Tell me something Donny, how else am I supposed to act?! I’ve been holding in all of this anger.. These doubts.. And you are chiding me? Chiding me for saying things that are uncomfortable? I am going to continue talking.” The swordsman narrowed his eyes.

“You don’t understand..and I pray that you never understand! That you never have to witness the horrors of betrayal, the cruelties of the underworld, or the insanity that is religious totalitarianism. Things in this world are never as black and white as it appears to be! I have to look at this from every angle! Even the angle’s I don’t like! That you won’t like! That no one likes! I want to believe that Remus simply did not connect the dots! I want to trust Remus! I want to protect those children! Just like I've protected countless others! But, I have to look at the facts and events that have befallen us!” He raised his hand onto his head and rubbed his eyes. There were some frustrated tears looming on the edges of his eyes. He let out a deep heavy sigh.

“The Ilian Reaper just doesn’t come after people for no reason. He needs to be paid for it. And paid heavily. Paid by people who will find out who we are and what we have done. Paid by a person or persons who could hire spies of the highest caliber.. Or of the lowest one. You have any idea how many swordsmen there are out there? How many might vaguely fit our descriptions? How many people, desperate for coin, would point at another random person and say ‘Oh, Hey yeah that’s the Donny, Duma, Remus, Or Perun. You're looking for!’ More people are going to die, because we fu*cked up.” He shook his head. His head was hurting now. His throat was pulsating from the strain of all the yelling.

“Lillisette, has informed us that there had been four different attacks in three different countries. That simply does not happen. Remus or the Children did something. Something to anger someone of power. It’s up to Remus to try and remember who! Unless, he ‘conveniently’ doesn’t know.” Duma tilted his head and glanced at the blue haired priest.

[Perun]

Perun followed the sober strangers through the city in the darkness. The five men were utterly silent, their footsteps making less noise than the feet of a cat on glass. However, they could not go unnoticed at all, as every step they took was matched by one from a drunken orange giant who was singing a song from his home valley with a voice that boomed like the thunder and rang between the walls of the buildings of Tania, creating a low bass that could be heard by most people within fifty yards within their homes. None of the men had anything to say, however it was clear that they were put out. Still, they accommodated him, allowing him to do as he pleased as long as he followed them.

It wasn't long before Jacen, the man who'd spoken with Perun, turned and led the cabal down a dark alley way formed by a tailor's and an inn. The other four men followed him, and Perun was faced with a conundrum. A sober giant would likely have stopped there and demanded some answers, but a drunk Perun could see literally no reasons whatsoever to avoid following a group of cloaked strangers into dark isolated area. So the man of the north's loud footsteps and rumblings followed their silent ones.

The loud bearded fellow followed the shorter group into the alley about halfway before the oldest member opened a door in the side of the inn that Perun hadn't noticed, and the other four men followed him inside. The giant didn't hesitate, he merely entered the strange little abode with them. The youngest member of the coterie began to light a number of lamps with his fingers instead of a match, and light took the room. As Perun looked around he saw that it was a rather large room, with sizable beds for all five men and shelves that held various herbal accouterments. However, before Perun could scan the room for any other furnishings that set this barely distinguishable room apart from any other barely distinguishable room in Lycia, Jacen began to speak again.

"Perun, we are not some rabble of thieves looking to lure travelers to shady rooms. We are what remains of an ancient society started to protect humanity, have you heard of the scouring?" Perun's face did not reveal any form of expression. The oldest member of the group began speaking. "The scouring was a conflict that threatened to force humans into extinction. The dragons attempted to fully subjugate our race, and humanity was only saved by eight heroes using legendary weapons." "They were incredible weapons empowered with magic strong enough to decimate the dragons, and with them the dragons were nearly eradicated. However-" "THe weapons are gone from history now, hidden away by time or the fear of their use by soft-hearted men and women. Our organization exists to provide humanity with some protection should the dragons ever rise up again." "Some seven hundred years ago, our ancestors gathered together and decided to forge a powerful weapon to defeat the Dragons upon their return, and they succeeded at the cost of many of their lives. Now,-" "We believe that it is time to deliver that weapon into the hands of a man capable of weilding it, as the dragons it would seem, have returned. Perun Volsungg, this-" One of the other men had gone to a chest that was ludicrously long. He opened it, and produced a giant longbow made of what looked like the horns of a bull.

"Is Fail-Not."