[FL] Fantasy Lynching: Blood alone turns the Wheels of History

[Cracklord]

Legolas and Gimli
Gotrek grunts, then shoulders his axe, clearly against the idea of being around an elf, but resigned to it enough not to start a fight. This was enough to make Felix worried about his companion, normally any excuse would do. But he decided it would be best not to give word to his worries, instead focussing on his new companions.
"I am Felix Jager, and my companions are Gotrek Gurnisson, a Slayer, and Kat." The girl gives a little wave. "I cannot speak for my companion, obviously, but I would be honored to travel with you."

Wander
There is unhealthy green pulse from the remains, a sickly green like mold, and a foul stench. Something like mist congeals out of it, forming the vague approximation of a figure, grotesquely over-muscled, ugly, primitive looking and squat, that grows in strength and power, until you fancy you can make out details, or at least the suggestion of details.
Then it forces itself apon you, undulating to cling around you, smothering and corrupt. You can't help it, you inhale, and the noxious thing makes it's way inside you like something alive, making you shudder. It slowly fades, drifting away, and leaving you feeling nauseous and light headed, near to collapse. That thing wasn't just a collosus, the orcs had changed it in some fundamental way.

[darkblade]

Holo and Lawrence

That was part of the plan. Lawrence sets about searching for a market or an Inn. Whichever they should happen upon first.

Holo is not quite as content though. "Such a brutal display on man forcing his will over that which he was not meant to control. It's disgusting."

***

Zasamal

Zasamal looks over the young assasin without any outward reaction. Disapointing he knew what buttons to push to make Toki do his bidding, this young man was new to him but he should be able to work with this without too much difficulty. "I have two contracts for your clan. A strike against the Empire and against an independent faction traveling through D'hara. Interested?"

[Colesign]

Tavi

"I should talk with King Gallabriotix soon, then." Tavi replied to Murtagh. "If we cannot resolve the differences between the Empire and the Varden, then perhaps we can work out a cease-fire for about, say, a month or two that allows us to find a way to deal with the Dark One. The Realm and United Nations of Alera, as both an alliance of former bitter enemies and a neutral party in this land, can be the arbitrator in any of these potential negotiations."

[Executor]

Achilles

"Richard Rahl... Tywin Lannister... Strange names, though I'm sure their coin is the same as anybody's" Achilles said with a laugh, unaffected by the Lieutenant's harsh words. It took quite a bit of authority for Achilles to take heed, and even Agamemnon, High King of Kings, was often defied by the Slayer of Men.

"Relax, my lord" he continued, fixing his gaze on the grim Lieutenant "If he has our brother-in-arms, I shan't lay a hand on him, though I would be interested in a sparring session." Achilles finished, glancing at the mountain-like barbaros once more.

"So this Tywin Lannister... what is his business in Uru'baen and how shall we fulfill it? Achilles asked, but before he could be answered, they were interrupted by Eudorus and Patroclus descending the stairs, also armoured in cuirasses and with swords on their belts. Of the three leaders of the Myrmidons, Achilles was the tallest and fairest in hair colour. Patroclus was almost like him in height, but had a leanness about him, almost a skinny adolescent quality, which made his armour seem a little too large for him, and his hair was a dark bronze, rather than Achilles' golden mane. Of the three, Eudorus was the shortest and stockiest, with broad, powerful shoulders and a thick, bull-like neck, and long black hair braided in the Spartan fashion.

"My Lord, the men are beginning to wonder what our plan is, I told them I would ask you" said Eudorus. Achilles smiled, a genuine smile this time, not the wolfish murderer's grin he usually wore, and set a hand on his loyal captain's shoulders.

"My lords, this is Eudorus, Captain of the Myrmidons, and this is Patroclus, a distant cousin and close friend. Brothers, meet our new benefactors. I have agreed to join their mercenary company, the wages will be good enough, I think, to earn our way back to Greece in several weeks, perhaps a few months." Achilles explained, gesturing to the commanders of the Black Company in turn as he told Eudorus this. The Myrmidon wore a sour expression, resentment evident in his eyes, resentment that noble Greeks such as his Lord must take orders from barbaroi such as these mercenaries. Patroclus, on the other hand, looked satisfied enough with the arrangement, but then it was hard to dishearten Patroclus.

"Anyways, my lords, who is our enemy? We were stolen from duty in a very great war in our homeland, and I yearn for kleos" Achilles said, his murderer's grin returning. He looked dangerous, and more than a little insane, with such a grin on.

[AnimeKid]

Auron

While Lawrence sets up shop he keeps an eye out for would be theives and or greedy street thugs using the intimidating aura that people said he had to full effect. Wealth was something that everyone wanted, but not everyone had, therefore he must be vigilant.

[Cracklord]

Zasamal
The problem with dealing with them was that you never could be sure who you were dealing with. This might be Toki wearing a new face and name, or it might not. They were as mysterious and secretive as possible, it aided their work.
"The favor of the God of Death is not something to take on lightly, for balance must be upheld." He says, without so much as a flicker of emotion.
"Our prices are twofold. The first is the worldly price, that shall give you our favor. The second the spiritual one, that shall allow us to work." His lips quirk into a smile.
"When you leave the tent, you will kill the first two men you see, instantly. Then you shall whisper two names, and we shall see to the rest. The worldly price you shall see arrives at out temple by the next new moon."

Tavi
Murtagh nods. "The King must hear of this. I will take you and Rand, but I regret that Thorn will not be able to bear more then three at a time, and will not fly unless I am with him."

Holo and Lawrence
Westland is a dangerous place for those of magic. The people hate it, and lynchings or beatings are to be expected if they catch wind of you. For that reason it is best Holo stays out of sight.
You find what could be generously called a tavern, though it has the cheer of a tomb, and farmers and craftsmen are drinking, resting from the days work.

Achilles
"He didn't tell me. His son gives the orders, and as long as he pays we follow them." The captain replies, standing up, and rolling his shoulders,then lumbering out.
The lieutenant stares at you, his own grin remaining in place though his face backs about six inches away from it, and then he nods. "Go see the annalist, get your names written for the record, then get your things. We leave at mid day."
Croaker is still talking to Conan at their table.

[AnimeKid]

Lazlo

He nods at Murtagh and says to Tavi "I will wait here with the rest of the troops."

[Executor]

Achilles

Swift-footed Achilles locked eyes with the Lieutenant for a single moment, and in that moment he knew that his time with this company would be a contest of wills with the Lieutenant, just as his time with the Achaean host was marked by quarrels with Agamemnon. Flashing his madman's grin yet again, he bowed his head to the Lieutenant and then turned and took his leave.

"Patroclus, go have our names marked down. Eudorus, get the men roused and ready to go, I have a feeling that we shall be marching long and hard today" Achilles ordered his two subordinates, and they rushed swiftly off to do as he bid them.

Within a half an hour, as the sun reached its zenith in the sky, the fifty Myrmidons were assembled outside, in a rectangle ten men wide and five men deep. Each was sweating in his bronze or layered linen armour, and a variety of helmets in many styles were pulled up onto their heads, for comfort. Spears were in every hand, swords at every side, great round shields on every back. In front of the column stood tall Achilles, stern and motionless, like a statue of an ancient god of war, and he faced the inn and awaited his new comrades.

[InyutheBeatIs]

Wander

Wander stares at the thing as it rises from the rubble, before turning and trying to run away as it lunges at him. When it clings to him, Wander holds his breath, struggling to try and shake it off of him before finally gasping for air, inhaling the congealed mist as he does so. He shudders as it creeps down his throat, almost making him want to gag. Finally, it leaves him, leaving him woozy and his head spinning. He finally stumbles onto the forest floor, the cumulation of what just transpired finally catching up to him.

Deep inside of him, the essences of the other three colossi that he has killed wriggle in anticipation of welcoming their brother to their new home. However, as it creeps into Wander's body, they halt, unsure of what to make of what has happened to it. The reluctance is nauseating, several times making Wander almost throw up. However, it is too late. For better or worse, it is in him now, joined by the essences of its former brothers.

Meanwhile, Agro hesitantly walks up to Wander, wondering if its safe to come close to his master.

[darkblade]

Zasamal

The immortal steps backwards one step out of the tent keeping his gaze leveled upon the assasin. He brandishes his scythe with a wicked smile"You may wish to reprise your price."

***

Lawrence and Holo

They have been through Westland before it was an unfortunate fact of their profession. They'd never say it outloud but they both knew all too well that Holo was on borrowed time, very few places left in the world would welcome, much less accept a lost nature spirit.

Lawrence approaches the bar of the Tavern. "How much for a room?"

[industrious]

Rand Al'Thor

Rand raises an eyebrow at Murtagh's declaration. The Dragon had a better idea in mind. A quicker one as well.

"It shouldn't be a problem, actually; I should be able to transport all of our party. How far is it to the capital, and in what direction?"

Gradient

Cleon had been imprisoned in the Abyss of the Faithless, and as such, had seen horrors that far exceeded that of the Nazgul. But those horrors had been pushed to the back of his mind, and while they were terrible, he also knew that they were over. To see something so similar to that horrific afterlife, that dread plane of ruined cities and demons, chilled him to the blood. He feels dizzy, and cold, and he wants to run, but his training and discipline keep him from doing so. But his is a mortal will, and eventually, the clashing forces within him cause him to fall to the ground, muttering to himself.

Pellew feels the chill as well, but his mixed blood protects him, sheltering him from the worst. The Sword at his side glows softly through its sheath, and once more he feels the call to battle, hears the trumpets in his mind. But prudence overrides recklessness, and while he watches to make sure that the Witch-King does not approach, he does not make any sudden movements.

Allecia, on the other hand, is scared for entirely different reason. Her fiendish blood feels the call of kinship to the Black Rider, and it is that thought, not the Rider himself, that scares her. Reaching into one of the trunks, she retrieves the staff Apotheosis, and waits for the beast to move away.

[Colesign]

Tavi

"You can stay if you want, Lazlo." Tavi replies. "However, we are far from lacking in aerial transportation of our own, and we can carry several passengers."

He beckons one of his Knights Aeris over, and gives him the command to fetch a wind coach with escorts. The Knight nods, then turns, leaps out the window, and shoots of into the distance on his windstream.

"With your permission, my ships will conduct some trading with the local merchants, in cooperation with your laws: some of my Legionnaires will be wanting some R&R while off duty, and will be forbidden from carrying weapons while on shore leave: is that problematic?"

[AnimeKid]

Lazlo

"Well if it won't be an inconvience I would like to come as well. I have a feeling that meeting this Galbatorix will put a few things into perspective for me."

[doliest]

Kitaria
She grins at him, "Has my envoy arrived in this town? He'd be rather hard to miss." She grins, Skie's wings open, spreading to their full length-it was a sight that had made trained soldiers run in fear-or perhaps that had usually been the large army of dragons in the sky behind her. Both worked.

Tass
Hm. "Any ideas Tanis?" Maybe they could knock a guard out and pretend he was moving him? Yeah!

[Falgorn]

Grimgor
An arrow hits you, unable to pierce the solid plate of bone and sloping forhead that you call a skull, but leaving a bloody trail along the side of your head. You barely notice. What is one more scar, really?

Any other orc would initiate a charge, leading into a trap that would kill him. Grimgor was more clever than the others. That's why he was the boss.
No, instead of leading his whole army to demise, he orders Borgut and three other Black Orcs to accompany him, to find the arrow. When the fightin' starts, he'll call the WAAGH!
A small strike team could move faster. He needed the speed, to track down dem wimpy elves.

[Corvond]

Tyrion Lannister
Tyrion arrived late, saddle-sore and sour, all to aware of how amusing he must look waddling up the slope to inspect the men. He thought he might get quite drunk tonight. It was twilight, and the air was alive with drifting fireflies.
Tywin's third child, called the Imp by some, was a misshapen dwarf, his limbs gnarled and twisted, particularly his stunted legs, a jutting forehead above his squashed and ugly face, mismatched eyes of green and black, and lank, white-blond hair. When he grows a beard, it contains both blond and black hair. He also has a grisly facial scar that has removed most of his nose.
He was not impressive or terrifying. So he had taken pains to hire people who are that way to do it for him.
To his right is a man who has a lean, wolfish appearance with dark hair, darker eyes, and an expression that makes it clear he can already see you dead. His sword is a notched, ugly thing, and his clothes are without ornamentation or decoration.
The other two make Conan look positively civilized by comparison. The first is a massive man, hard and craggy with straw blond hair in braids and a scruffy beard, with three enormous axes, heavy black steel ones with twin crescent blades of the finest quality strapped to his back, that he looks like he knows how to use. The other is a younger man who would be handsome but for the burned out eye, scar tissue and intense expression of lurking madness.
Tyrion makes his way over to Achilles, smiling. He was not a fool, he knew his father, and was being sent to hold the left again. He was being sent to die if necessary, to his father he was expendable, an embarrassment that grated on his nerves. Not only were his looks against him, but his mother had died in childbirth, and his father considered the exchange of a wife for a son an uneven one.
His brother Jaime had always been able to make men follow him eagerly, and die for him if need be. Tyrion lacked that gift. He bought loyalty with gold, and compelled obedience with his name.
"Well, they do look quite fearsome, don't they?" He said to the sellsword, inspecting his new men with an air of forced nonchalance. "If they can fight as well as they can dress, we should win in no time at all."

Gaborn Val Orden
To the elf's surprise, Gaborn acquiesces. "If that is your wish, then I will do so. But you do yourself, and your people a disservice. I cannot make you open your eyes, and I shall not try. Farewell."
With that he turns and walks away. The trees and foliage seem to bend around him and his men, creating a path. He could gallop a horse through a forrest as though it was an open road.

[Executor]

Achilles

Achilles raised an eyebrow at the short, disgusting little man. True, dwarfs were not an unknown sight in Greece, but they were mostly associated with the decadent courts of Persian and Hittite and Babylonian kings, where they were employed as jesters or fools. This little thing, despite his grotesque appearance, wore fine clothes, and had the air of someone who thought himself very important. His impressiveness was increased by the hard-looking mercenaries flanking him.

"What is it, my lord?" said Eudorus, his nose crinkled and his face twisted in disgust at the dwarf's appearance.

"A dwarf, Eudorus, like they have in the courts of Eastern despots" Patroclus answered.

"Whom might you be?" Achilles asked, wondering what gave this dwarf leave to comment on his men in such a vaguely insulting way. Implying that his Myrmidons were only for show! Honestly!

Though, he was right, Achilles thought while he resisted the urge to skewer the foul thing's face with his spear. The Myrmidons were dressed in the most splendid panoply Greece could produce, or at least what was left of it after the crash. Each man had a cuirass of bronze or layered linen, with a red or black cloak, a bronze helmet, mostly of the Corinthian or Chalcidian styles, with tall horsehair crests of black and red and gold. Their broad shields bore the heraldry of ancient and noble clans and families. Of all the Achaeans of Agamemnon's host, these were the greatest warriors.

[AnimeKid]

Link

He silently follows the king out of the forest. Man he hated how uppity that guy was, if it was a guy. Kinda hard to tell with elves.

[Corvond]

Gaborn Val Orden
He stares ahead as they walk, then turns to his bodyguard. "Borenson, stay with Link if you please. We are going to separate here. I will go East, and you three will go West. Tell them I have come, and it is time to put aside our differences and stand shoulder to shoulder, brace ourselves against the coming storm." He smiles down at Link, a kindly smile that really sets off his haunted eyes. He's a kind man who has been forced to bare proof that a man can endure anything.
"I will call on you to be brave, to risk everything, and to fight for humanity in the dark days to come. But I ask you to do nothing I would not do myself. And I will be with you always." With that he turns, and begins walking east, the forest swallowing his path, his wife at his side.

Achilles
Tyrion doesn't react. He's well used to being the butt of japes and cruel jests, there is little the can say or do to him that he hasn't already heard before. Tyrion has little dignity left, but just the same has something of a presence, and when silhouetted against the last of the setting sun his shadow stood as tall as any king.
He stares up at Achilles, still smiling slightly, though it's more of a grimace. He should have ridden a horse and be done with it. "Why, I am the man who pays you. My name is Tyrion Lannister, and I paid you to work for me. So who has your loyalty, your pride, or the man who puts gold in your pocket?"

[Executor]

Achilles

Achilles smiled, his vicious, predatorial smile. He already disliked the little man, perhaps not as much as he disliked that pig Agamemnon, but this Tyrion Lannister was certainly drawing Achilles' ire.

"Pride, Lannister, pride and glory. The man who puts gold in my purse is just one of life's unfortunate necessities" Achilles replied, and his men chuckled, for they shared his distaste for these rich nobles, forever hiring hard men like them to fight their battles for them.

[Cracklord]

The Black Company
The Comapny do not have the military splendor of the Myrmidons, though they do have the look of seasoned professionals. They line up in fairly perfect ranks, soldiers armed with pikes, swords, mail, shields, and other, more persoanl wearponry, officers astride horses in the same uniforms as the men, cavalry lined up behind. The advantage the Company had is every man is able to fill whatever role is needed. They can serve as infantry or as cavalry, as archers, defenders or attackers.
They all have the same look as the ones you met. No real cohesion or common look, misfits turned soldiers, but hard, tough, and experienced. As befitting the name, they all wear black. Not the stylish black of assasains, but the black of workmen who don't want to show the stains. Like crows.

Grimgor
Running through the untamed forrest was nothing like walking along a trail. The ground was a lumpy tangle of roots, creepers and dead branches that caught at their feet and tripped them constantly.
Thick undergrowth grew shoulder high in places, thorns and nettles caught at them like claws and branches whipped their faces.
The light of borgut's torch was almost more disorienting then it was useful, for it's bobbing, flickering light caused shadows to dance, making it seem like the trees were looming out at them and leeping in their way.
Creatures of the night skittered away from them, screeching and yipping.
Then you see the figure. An elf, blond haired in practical armor was stringing another arro, his eyes intent on you.

Kitaria
"Yes! That is to say, ah..." He's very flustered. "What can we do for you, miss?"

Tanis, Tass
As you say that, you come to a door that looks like the armory. There has to be some spare gear in that...

Lawrence, Auron and Holo
With the eye of a true entrapreneur, he stares at you. He looks at your clothing, your money bags, your wagon outside which a stable boy is unhitching and brushing off the horse, and Aurons outlandish gear. He's trying to decide what it is worth to you.
"Just one room for the three of you, is it? Forty silvers then, ten for the horse, and I'll toss in a meal."

[darkblade]

Lawrence and Holo

"Thats a bit pricey for a single room and stable stall for a one night. I'll give you hundred for the week plus food naturally. I won't deprive a fellow merchant of any profit." Lawrence says with a slight smile Inn Keepers were among the toughest men to haggle with third under Clergy collecting Tythes and Merchant Guildmasters collecting dues but Lawrence knew his way around Innkeepers and Clergy. He wouldn't even think of trying negotiate with a guildmaster lest he blacklisted the world over.

[Cracklord]

Lawrence and Holo
He pauses a moment, eyes narrow, then he nods, a bit frustrated that he can't fleece you as much as he wanted but unwilling to argue the point. "Deal. I'll have your possesions moved up right now."

Zasamal
"The price is set." He says calmly, not stirring, though his eyes do follow the blade of your scythe.

[darkblade]

Zasamal

"Very well then." Zasamal says swinging his scythe towards the assasin's throat, he doesn't speak a name yet he will not until he is certain the blow will strike and kill, otherwise the deal may well be voided.

***

Lawrence and Holo

"A pleasure doing business with you. Mister?" Lawrence asks holding out his hand.

Holo on the other hand heads out to the stables to make sure no one tries to sneak off with any of their cargo. Something about this place doesn't sit right with her even without the desire to murder all of her kind simply for existing.

[Executor]

Achilles

Achilles raises an eyebrow at the men of the Black Company. While it was true, they looked like hardened killers, they lacked the splendour of the Myrmidons. They looked like murderers, not warriors. Regardless, the Myrmidons raised their spears in salute as the company formed up before them.

"ZEUS SOTER KAI NIKE!" they cried, shouting the battlecry of Greece that Achilles had devised, their voices as one, deep and booming, and the warcry echoed on the surrounding mountains. Startled flocks of birds took off in the nearby forests, and the people of the town paused in their daily business, looks of fear flashing across their faces as they looked towards the foreign soldiers. Then, in unison again, the fifty Myrmidons slammed their spear shafts against the faces of their shields, and there was a great din of wood against bronze, before the Myrmidons feel silent again.

"Hail to the Black Company" Achilles said, recalling the name of the company which he had hieard earlier, as walked up towards the Captain and Lieutenant from earlier, raising his spear to salute them. Amongst the junior officers, he spotted Raven, the man who had offered this job.

"That dwarf over there, with the bodyguards, is that truly our employer?" he asked, military formalities falling aside.

[Cracklord]

Zasamal
As you draw back the scythe, it occurs to you he specifically said 'once you leave the tent.' Then you swing, and he slumps, a terrible wound through his neck, a massive hole that the scythe cut into him.

Lawrence and Holo
The porter carefully unloads everything. He inspects their packs and even tries to open the box, but gives up with bad grace when he is unable to find a key. He doesn't take anything, or at least you don't catch him taking anything, but you get the impression he's considering it.

"Call me Samson." He replies. "It's a pleasure, Lawrence." It's about then you realize you never told him your name. And you don't like his gaze. Not at all.

Achilles
Raven shrugs, as though he has no idea and honestly couldn't care less. Raven seems pretty disconnected to it all, as though he has nothing to really live for, he's just going through the motions. Another man he was talking to, Elmo, who had the look of a muscular farmer more then a military man walks over to you and shakes his head, inspecting your men as he does so. "He's fathers paying, he's just here to watch us and make sure we do our job." Elmo likes to pretend to be a bluff country boy turned soldier, but he's sharp enough beneath it all.
"He wants to finish this before it becomes a war, we hear. Well, one battle looks much like another when you inspect the corpses afterward, but that's what he says."

[InyutheBeatIs]

Wander

Wander stands up, and shakes off the feeling of nausea he had before, if only barely. He walks up to Agro, rubbing his head when he reaches his faithful steed. Agro seems comparitively pleased that his master is well, knickering softly as Wander rubs him.

Now, the crushed hand that held the ancient sword unfurls, unable to grasp the handle any longer, and the blade slips and clatters to the ground. This causes Agro to jump back a bit, but Wander manages to keep with him and calm him down before he runs off. When Agro is calmed down enough to stay in one place, Wander goes back and picks up the blade with his good hand, holding the sword up to the sun. As he does so, a small dish of light collects on the blade, and a short sunbeam points the way to the next Colossus. He then puts the blade back in its scabbard with a sigh. A sigh of relief, of weariness, and of lack of direction. He then walks back over to Agro, opening up a pair of saddlebags that he bought near the beginning of his journey. He pulls out a map of the nation that he bought somewhere between the second and third Colossi. He unfurls it as best he can on the ground, looking for a town along the path. He knows he needs a healer, or a mage, of some sort to heal his hand, and fast; he can't exactly climb up to a rune if he can't use both hands, and generally, the longer these things are left alone, the more chance you have of losing your appendages entirely.

[Executor]

Achilles

"A noble father... how ashamed he must be of such a misshapen son" Achilles remarked, glancing at Tyrion again and shaking his head. Such children were often discarded in Greece, especially in places such as Sparta. Though Achilles was no Spartan, something not right still struck him about Tyrion, and not just his looks. The dwarf's eyes had a cunning and brutal glimmer to them, not unlike Agamemnon's actually. A glimmer that Achilles did not like one bit.

"Who are we to fight anyways?" Achilles said, walking alongside the ranks of Myrmidons with Elmo.

"And, more to the point, you inspect my men. What do you think? Magnificent, are they not?" he asked.

[Cracklord]

The Purgatorians
The rest of the night passes undisturbed. But you awake with the feeling of dark, ancient forces moving, as a shadow reaches it's hand over the world. If it is not stopped here, perhaps it will follow you back to the Tamrielic Empire next.
The road ahead looks to be desserted once more, though you are nearing the Border States, and the edge of the midlands.

Achillies
"The King here. Galbatorix."
If Elmo was honest, and looking for a fight, he'd point out a few design faults in their gear. He's been a soldier a long time, and know's leaving that much exposed skin is a bad idea. He'd point out that the overlappind shields mean that they are totally dependant on ranks for mutual defense, that their spears are two short and that a good group of knights would plow through them like they weren't there.
The cream of Greek armor, tactics and weaponry became obsolete nearly a thousand years ago, as tecnology moved on. A crossbow bolt would punch through the armor and the shields with ease, and the press of soldiers would only make those sort of weapons more deadly. Any wizard worth his pointy hat could probably deal with them without breaking a sweat.
But he's become very astute, and good at telling people what they want to hear. Besides, he doesn't want a fight. So he bullsh*ts, convincingly. "Each of you looks like some ancient prince. Don't know what they'll do to the enemey, but you scare the hell out of me."

Wander
You don't even need to look at the map to know. It leads to a city in the middle of the Empire. Dras-Leona.
Your hand throbs painfully, at a tempo slightly faster then your heatbeats, and the skin is a blotch red with the greenish tinge of gangrene. It has swelled up to almost twice it's usual thickness, and every time you touch anything with it you send shivers of agony through your body.

[darkblade]

Holo

((Well this is getting boring. Let's add some conflict.))

Holo glares at the boy and lets loose a low gutteral growl against her better judgement. A growl that can't possibly have come from a human throat. "You'd be so bold as to try and steal from me right before my eyes?"

***

Lawrence

"Here you go and ten gold for three dinners. What's on the menu tonight?" Lawrence asks unaware of what Holo is doing in the stables.

"Auron? Could you go fetch my wife? We don't want her food getting cold."

***

Zasamal

"Empoer Galbatorix." Zasamal says letting the curse flow through the ninja's body and reach the rest of the clan he then steps outside of the tent properly to see who else he must kill in this upsurd ritual.