"No." Yorrick replied to the gnome.
Yorrick had never been the stoic, silent type. Well, not in his short memory, at least. He'd be the type to mouth off, get into fights like that one in the Hothmalor tavern. He'd been confrontational, rarely silent. His nature got him into trouble more often than not. And yet, over the course of the past few days, he'd been silent, rarely speaking, merely fighting. Aside from words shouted in the midst of battle, words that he inexplicably could not remember, he had barely spoken to his comrades. This was uncharacteristic of him, he knew that; or did he? He didn't know anymore.
The past night, the one in which Daiyasina had disappeared, he had not slept well. Dreams, nightmares, plagued him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He was amongst the burning rubble of a small farmhouse, knelt over the corpses of a poor family caught in the crossfire of some war, tears mixing with the pool of blood before him. As he stood, he silently whispered a vow of revenge, to exact punishment on those who would commit such acts. He did not, however, notice the arrow hurtling towards him. As it pierced his chest, he cried out for the justice he would not be able to enact.
----
He stood in battle, greatsword whirling about in a frenzy of death, completely surrounded. Blood was split everywhere, the idyllic grassy field now awash with red. As his sword struck yet another attacker, he felt a spear pierce his ribs. A hot wave burned through him as he toppled, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth as he collapsed to the ground. As he felt his life slip away, his eyes welled up with tears. For some reason, he knew he had failed...Again. Metal flashed through the air, a sword careening towards his neck. He had no energy left to resist, and his last feeling was that of the metal biting into his neck, a finishing blow that no mortal man could survive.
---
He stood amongst the hot desert sun, falx in hand. He looked to his companions on the right; the Lightbringer, a divine presence beyond any, a goddess beyond any doubt, and his closest friend, a man named Neshi. To his left stood a celestial beauty, a firey red-haired woman who appeared as an elf, flickering eyes containing dancing flames betraying a less mortal background. His lover she was, a Firre subservant to the Lightbringer, Elyana by name.
It is said by some legends that a warrior can sense when his death is nigh, that a warrior can sense when a battle will be his last. He knew that he would die this day, that his was an inescapable fate, that he would die at the hands of the forces of darkness. But he did not feel this battle would be his last; he would fight many more, that much he knew.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yorrick walked forward, a slight, virtually undetectable, glow in his eyes. He drew his greatsword, pointing it at the hobgoblin spokesperson.
"To shed much blood would be pointless. No group would benefit from this. We would both suffer great loss, regardless of the victor. If what you say is true, then this would all be for naught."
Pausing for a minute, Yorrick continued, "Our intention here is to investigate a claimed threat to the people of Hothmalor and the surrounding area. If there is no such threat, then we have no business here. If there is a greater hand behind this situation, then we must learn this too."
"We shall not fight you pointlessly. To spill blood is not to be taken lightly, or done blindly. Masaw, is your kind honourable or merely destructive? I propose to thee a contest between champions. My blade against that of your chosen warrior. No trickery from either side, as befits an honourable duel. If I win, you must swear upon your honour to never again harm a settlement of innocents, if you indeed have done so in the past. You must also give us any information you have about darker movements in the region, of strange happenings and machinations. If you win, we shall leave this area immediately, no harm coming to your lands or people, proclaim our failure to Hothmalor, and serve to them any message you might send them."
"What say ye? Do you accept? We have no wish to fight and, if we are to, it should only be between champions, to prevent the spilling of blood. We are honourable folk, and I assume you to be the same. If we have been tricked by Hothmalor into a fool's errand, we must know this. If you are living off the innocents of this area, we must know this as well. Hear me well; we shall not allow you to leech off those who cannot defend themselves, if you indeed are doing that. We can settle this in a contest of skills between champions. But, if you are not, then we wish no quarrel with you, only information."