The Legends of Eroris II: Interregnum |IC|

[Zanera]

Braern the Lesser
Southern Eldrion
Route to Atlas

---

CHAPTER FOUR: A LONG TREK TO A FAMILIAR DESTINATION

---

Braern got enough money to go and buy something from a market stall outside the city. Now he had a few apples to munch on for a while. Making sure his sword was in his belt properly, he started going as far away as he could before night could fall. Braern wanted to be as far away as he possibly could get before nightfall. Hopefully the cultists would be too far away and too concerned with taking out the head of the city guards or having a meeting to come after a runaway beggar.

There was a compulsion and need to look back, to both make sure he wasn't being followed and to look upon the city that may soon be enveloped in an invasion of otherworldly beings. The Onyaar might be too proud to accept word from a beggar, especially in a city like Isnhrion, of a large cult of Dreadlord worshipers scurrying around both amongst them and underneath them. And hearing that the tears in the sky came from the north, probably from Yherion, Braern thought that maybe a larger phenomena was happening. He wouldn't be able to stop it in Isnhrion by himself, or anywhere else. But maybe the people of the Reach would be more humble as to listen to a beggar. At least he hoped the queen of Atlas might. And she was but a little more tolerant of commoners, not mentioning the beggars.

It was also a warm place compared to Eldrion, too. If Braern hadn't gotten those blankets from that strange Onyaar's cabin, he'd probably be very ill. Braern didn't have the money to rent a room at a roadside inn, so he'd have to find a safe place to sleep. Hiding in his sleep from both wild animals and any cultists that might come out of the city to find him would be hard. There was a few times in Braern's past when he had to hide from a person or group of people. What made Braern especially worry of this group of people was that they were highly active Dreadic worshipers.

The mountains in the distance were getting closer and closer as Brearn walked further and further. Braern wouldn't make it out of the valley before nightfall. It was almost getting dark anyway. Unfortunately Braern couldn't make a fire just yet, so he was stuck huddling up somewhere shivering heavily under his blankets for a night or two until he thought he was finally out of the cult's search range. Of course, since they were composed of low-lives and beggars, no notable elf in the city would really notice if they were gone. The cultists could disappear for a few days to continue searching if they especially wanted Braern to go. If their final plans weren't to be instituted for a while, then they may send a couple of themselves after Braern.

Braern would have to make sure that he was as hidden as he could be. He also needed to stay out of any wind, and to remain somewhat comfortable. Finding a clump of pine trees somewhat near the road, Braern walked over to it and began building a lean-to out of sticks and pine needles, using branches on the ground that still had copious amounts of pine needles on them as a covering for the main structure, and dead pine needles as a cushion against the earth. The lean-to was faced away from the road. Braern didn't need to see the road, he didn't want anything on the road to see him. Any wild predators most likely wouldn't come from the road, either. There also wasn't much in the way of wind to worry about.

Beginning to drift off into a deep sleep, Braern was awoken from his half-conscious when he heard much shuffling among the clump of trees. He woke up immediately and drew his sword. He pounced out from behind his lean-to to find that a crowd of maybe ten beggars had probably followed him from out of the city. They weren't armed. On the contrary, they could have been easily robbed. Braern thought that they probably weren't too used to walking far distances like Braern was. Plus, they probably had to beg for some more money to buy meager food for the trip, and that'd some time. Whatever the reason, they were in this clump of pines now. They all seemed stunned to see Braern. At least, however much you can see someone in the dark.

"We were going to follow your lead and get out of the city. Not many of us could come. Some weren't fit enough. Some were cripples. The insane couldn't tell what we were trying to say. And some said our worries were nonsense. We went along this road hearing you had gone down it. We were going to sleep here and wake up earlier to try to catch up with you. But you're here anyway, it seems," said a middle-aged male Onyaar with a few fingers missing, and the left side of his face was scarred, with his left eye gray, blind, and lazy. He tried to smile at the end, but it quickly faded from his face.

"We can sleep here for tonight. We will get up once the sun rises and continue our journey. We cannot light any fires, because the cultists would easily find us, and we are not much in the condition to fight them, although once out of Eldrion we would likely not have to worry about being accosted by them," Braern said after some thought. The elf that had spoken nodded with a countenance of dejection and understanding. It'd be another cold night for them, but Braern would be the most affected, being a Vvalyaar.

"Do not feel compelled to trade your shelter, or destroy it. You are the one they may want, and your body, naturally, cannot take the cold elements. We may handle it for a couple nights. The city walls blocked the winds that can carry through the valley. It would be beneficial to have a shelter while out in the open. We will decide watches for tonight."

It was Braern's turn to nod. The Mayaar was right on that. Braern remembered he had unsheathed his sword, and slid it back into his belt. Braern recognized none of these beggars from the two cult meetings he had gone to. He assumed that Braern and these beggars were on good terms. Returning to the lean-to and lying down, Braern listened to the beggars speak among themselves while they shuffled around. Soon the conversation died out, replaced gradually with heavy breathing and wheezing, along with intermittent coughing. Finally falling asleep himself, he wrapped his blankets tightly around him before going into a deep sleep.

[Achesia]

The guard stood dumbfounded, holding the sword which was so readily tossed at him as the crest of House Randall leered at him just like the boy on horseback did now. Though if he was attempting to cause trouble, throwing a sword at the guard would not be the smartest move, so there must be some merit to his claim.

The guards each looked to each other, their red and black surcoats of House Deavous swaying in the breeze that whooshed along the keep's ancient stone walls. Neither knew exactly what sort of protocol there was for such a blatant proclamation, nor what to think about the boy carrying around a knight's sword.

The potchedmarked face of the second guard who glanced over the blood stain on the blade twisted as he attempted to churn a thought through his thick and clouded mind.

"Aye, how dew we knows you dinnit juss steel this here sword." His speech was as thick as his skull, clearly born in the muddy streets of Atlas' poorer and uneducated districts.

The guards outside of the queen's bedroom stepped forward assertively as the elf neared. It went without saying that the Royal Guard's suspicion of elf assassins was high since the previous attempt on the queen's life. The knights each wore full armor on this occasion, vice a simple surcoat. If it came to blows Sur Jon, now captain of the Queen’s guard, ordered them to ensure they would crush any sort of elven hostility firmly. The Queen had pushed back on the thought of fully armored body guards at a diplomatic meeting, but relented at the logic of elve's being under suspicion of undermining affairs in Achesia.

"Ambassador, this is the Queen's bedroom. You will not enter here, the meeting will be held in her study down the hall." The knight held up a gauntleted palm as he stopped the diplomat. Both knights held to their hilts as they militantly guarded the door to the Queen's most private place. They each glared at the guards who let them come near the bedroom, and soon they nodded and beckoned the elves follow to the study.

Once they reached the large doors they would be ushered into the large vaulted room of stone and various decorations from around the world. Either side of the door lay a hearth that billowed warm flame to heat the expansive room. Across from the door a circle of chairs had been carefully place, with Sur Jon, Lord Koud, and Thietmar flanking the chair of the Queen.

Within the bedroom which the Queen was preparing for her meeting, Felicity wrapped a girdle around the pale nude form of the ripe and able monarch. She pressed the cloth around Alexandria's flesh as she brought it under her slender arms, the Queen held up a bundle of her red hair as she winced at the pressure to her breasts. The queen felt as if their flesh would either rip her gown as they exploded from the girdle or they would spring from the top seam causing much embarrassment. This feeling worsened as Felicity tied the ends of the laces together and Alexandria let out an explosive breath of air as the feeling in her abdomen and body left her.

"We will be late my Queen. We mustn't keep the elves waiting." Joselynn knelt before the queen, taking a wet sponge as she dabbed as Alexandria's womanhood. The handmaidens were most efficient at their job of preparing the Queen's appearance. They poked and washed and wrapped the Queen in her dress for the evening they moved at such a rapid pace that even Alexandria could not keep up.

As Joselynn finished the last braid of the Queen's long red tail, she smiled and squeezed Alexandria's shoulders before nodding to felicity.

"She's ready." Her smile making Alexandria that much more confident.

"The shoes!" Felicity screeched as she rushed to fit two lace slippers on the Queen's feet. But as soon as they were on, the Queen was rushed towards the door that led from her bedroom to her study. She could hear her guards on the other side make the announcement, but not before she felt Felicity was at her feet tying the last knot in the strands along her heel.

"Her Royal majesty the Queen of Achesia..." She entered...

[Ithalian Empire]

Rasmus Gunnar
The Road to Atlas

Rasmus had been walking a long time. Most of his life in fact had been spent walking. Walking long days had become a part of his life as much as eating and drinking had. And he had come a far way from his home far in the north. Now he was here in lands were winters were mild, a far cry from the harsh ices that had sculpted the hardy Nordic race.

Rasmus's life was atypical for most youths of the world, even for the typically martial Nords. The Gunners were good at one thing, and one thing only. And that was killing. They were warrior's, descendant from a long line of warriors, and at that long line of warriors was a many great-grandfather who was said to have been at the side of Orrin Stormcrown during many of the great Nord kings battles. Even the sword on Rasmus's belt was said to have once been held in the hands of Orrin. Such claim could not be verified of course, but they were good enough for Rasmus.

It was to this great martial tradition that Rasmus was born into. From the age of six he began a vigorous training. Runs through rugged terrain with weights on his back, sparring with training swords filled with sand, hours spent outside in all elements sparring and running and praying that the god's took his life before his father did. By the time he was 18 he was nothing but a mass of sinew and muscle that stood well of six feet tall. All for the sake of holding a sword.

In the end it would be this sword that would lead to Rasmus being a dead man if he set foot in his homeland again. Every Jarl in Norravägg wished to unite the realm into a single kingdom, and possibley even another Nordic empire. Any object that could tie one of the Jarls to figures of Nord history could boost their claim over the rest of the province.

The Jarl of Highmarch, god's curse his name, was much the same. The sword of Rasmus's father, the same sword that Rasmus now possessed, was as good an object as any.

Rasmus could still remeber that day. The Jarl often sent him and his father off to deal with threat eather to large or to dangerous for his own men. On that particular day it was a band of rather violent and savage brigands. All had been so normal. The enemy left the familiar signs that would lead to there hideout, burnt homesteads and looted corpses. And than a twig snapped. Nothing unusual in the forests of the north. Than a twang of a bow string, the hiss of an arrow, the thump or it sticking into a tree.

The two men had been ambushed before, so the got back to back and drew there sword. Ten men on cloaks with hood obscuring their faces attacked them. Father and son fought wildly against their assailants. As Rasmus cut down a second enemy he felt his father lurch behind him, a warm liquid spattering Rasmus's neck. He turned in time to see his father fall, an arrow stuck into his neck, severing one of the major arteries. Rasmus took his father's sword, the sword that was his family's pride, and continued to fight.

In the melee, on of his attacker hoods came off. Rasmus recognized the face. One of the housecarls of the Jarl. He and his father had been betrayed. Rasmus took the head of that housecarl and made his escape. When he returned all he had was a burning vengeance within his heart. A vengeance that would drive a man made if it wasn't sated. He had the honor of his family and the death of his father to repay. So he made his way into the Jarl own bedchamber.

There he threw down the head of the housecarl. The Jarl and his wife were shocked. Then he went into detail of what had happened that day. From the time of the first arrow to the time he took the head and ran, every last gory detail was relayed to the gaped mouthed Jarl and his petrified wife. And then he took the Jarl head.

All this had lead to him being on a road far to the south of his home leading to another alien city. He could see it from the top of the hill he had crested. He stopped to take a swig from his water skin, the mead within cooled his parched throat. He hoped there would be suitable work in this new land, his purse was getting light and his supply of salted and dried meat and cheese was slowly dwindling. His thought of the future were abruptly brought the the present when a voice came from behind.

"Enjoying a drink are ye?" said the singsong voice of the Reachman. It had to be a Reachman, Rasmus hadn't ever heard an accent quite like the Reach one. There were three of them, a Reachman who was obviously the leader was flanked by an orc on the left and shorted Reachman on the right.

"Its none of your business." Rasmus replied, already alarms going off. These three had bandit written all over them.

"Aw, rude gent this one. Boys, perhaps we should teach this un a lesson?" the leader said. The Orc grunted and started to draw his blade, while the small Reachman gigled.

Rasmus turned to face his new enemies. The orc would have to go first, he had the look of a skilled fighter, not to the standards of Rasmus, but skilled nonetheless. Luckily for Rasmus, he was the first to make a move. The ork ran forward, he sword at the read. Rasmus swung the great oaken staff he had been using as a walking stick, the end of it made contacted with the orc's left side, shattering several ribs and throwing the orc into the ground.

Next came the small Reachman, nat far behind his orcish companion. For his efforts he received a devastating blow to the head as he tried to get close to Rasmus. The blow was hard enough the shatter the skull, forcing bone downward into the brain effectively killing the man.

Last came the talkative one. With his weapon drawn and his friends dead or wounded the bandit was rooted to the spot with fear. Before the Reachman could run away, Rasmus was upon him. The oaken staff once more laid a devastating blow, this time a jag to the stomach. The Reachman vomited blood as he fell to the ground clutching his abdomen in pain. Rasmus left the three of the there. He already had lost too much daylight.

It was nearing night fall by the time when he made it to Atlas. The shadows of the word grew long as the sun set below the horizon casting everything a redish hue. Luckily he had arrived before the city closed up for the night and showed have made an easy entry. Unfortunately one of the guards at the gates was rather over zealous in his duties or incredibly board. Either way he decided to to stop Rasmus.

"Halt. What yer business in Atlas?"

Rasmus knew enough not to be to rude to a city guard. Last time he was nearly lead to him going to jail and a mighty fine new widow being made. " Just looking for work."

"Hmm, could be. Never can be to careful, off you go."

And so Rasmus, for better or for worse, had made entry into the city of Atlas.

[Zanera]

Braern the Lesser
Southeastern Reach
Route to Atlas

---

CHAPTER FOUR: A LONG TREK TO A FAMILIAR DESTINATION

---

Braern soon discovered there was traveling by yourself, in then there was traveling with a group. He needed only find a sleeping place for himself, he need only get food and water for himself, and he could generally handle himself. What he was direly inexperienced in was making sure several other people had these things and could defend themselves should the need arise, on top of said group of people being relatively unfit for a journey like this. One had been killed by a mix of exposure and exhaustion, and another had been killed when a couple bandits had suddenly struck. Unfortunately, the latter death was ultimately needless as the bandits couldn't find a single thing they could take from this traveling band of beggars. It was true that Braern need not worry about getting that beggar provided for, but it lowered the morale of the others considerably, especially with his exhausted and generally fed-up they already seemed to be.

For Braern it was just good to get out of the mountains and cold of Eldrion. It was much warmer, oddly, once Braern was a ways into the Reach. It felt warmer, and Braern felt inclined to distribute the blankets he had been using for himself. From then on, Braern was completely in his element, and if he couldn't cheer up the others directly, then his own increased morale just might lift the others'. Further on the bright side, there was more food to be found in the Reach, with more people willing to share it. Less people frowned on vagrants in the Reach when compared to Eldrion, and there were many that either knew or had heard of Braern. It likely wouldn't get him much special treatment, but being kinda known in the Reach was better than being an undesirable ice block in Eldrion.

The group was nearing closer to Atlas every day. They were eating almost exclusively vegetables. Mostly what they could sneak from farms or ask from farmers. One farmstead Braern was able to get a full meal from. Braern had helped the farmer's mother deliver the son that now owned the farmstead, so the son's father had decided that he owed Braern from then on, and now their son had taken up the mantle of helping out Braern. It was a long story Braern was too tired to explain out. The group had a nice dinner there and enjoyed the warmth of a hearth. Strangely enough, Braern had helped deliver a calf from a pregnant cow just after dinner, when there was a lot of noise from the stable when everyone was just starting to sit around the fire. Feeling the need to further help the man and his wife out, he told them of the tear in the sky and the cultists in Isnhrion. They had seen the tear in the sky, and remarked how terrified they were. Braern decided he'd only tell them to beware of any strange folks or suspicious creatures, and to listen for news of anything that might issue forth from Eldrion.

Continuing forth, the group of beggars had a brightened mood and could walk further than they had in Eldrion. There was still many, many more leagues to go before they would reach the gates of Atlas, but so far the Reach had been kind to them when compared to Atlas. They had walked from a land being invaded by demons and had two fellow wanderers taken from them. Now, they might be walking into more danger by going to Atlas, where there might be even more major cult activity. It seemed that wondering the roads of the Reach would prove not too difficult. Besides a few highwaymen and such, it was a peaceful time for the group. Perhaps there might be major difficulty in Atlas. If there wasn't, then perhaps that'd just be Braern's blessing from the gods.

[Everhall]

Alexandria's Study, Aeon Keep
Atlas, Kingdom of Achesia

The diplomatic mission watched as the Queen entered the room, noting said as she same before the Elven ambassador. The elf wore silk of white and gold, befitting the status of who could only be nobility. His long brown hair hung to his shoulders, and was kept highly trimmed. His face, like most elves, was angular and refined one that most women would fall for. This Elven ambassador finally broke the silence,

"Queen Alexandria," the elf began, "Allow me to introduce myself; I am Lord Fyrain of Crystilight. I have come to represent Edenyur Craceran, the rightful King of Eldrion, and the Reach. I have come to fashion terms that are suitable to our King's liking."

[Achesia]

Alexandria's Study, Aeon Keep
Atlas, Kingdom of Achesia

The diplomatic mission watched as the Queen entered the room, noting said as she same before the Elven ambassador. The elf wore silk of white and gold, befitting the status of who could only be nobility. His long brown hair hung to his shoulders, and was kept highly trimmed. His face, like most elves, was angular and refined one that most women would fall for. This Elven ambassador finally broke the silence,

"Queen Alexandria," the elf began, "Allow me to introduce myself; I am Lord Fyrain of Crystilight. I have come to represent Edenyur Craceran, the rightful King of Eldrion, and the Reach. I have come to fashion terms that are suitable to our King's liking."

From behind the Queen's chair Lord Koud scoffed.

"Our King?" He stepped forward in his full plate armor with sheathed sword glistening in the hearth light. "We do not recognize any such King. Our QUEEN, sits here. If you have come for such preposterous proposals than I am afraid you are not welcome here." He stood firmly in front of Queen Alexandria who nodded the same sentiment that her cheif advisor showed.

The entire Achesian delegation felt their stomachs turn at the elves proposterous languge, such a rude message to bring into the chamber's of their host.

[Everhall]

The elf smirked smugly at the actions of the Lord before him. Man was always like this, attempting to place themselves above the races of Yaar. They were all ignorant, they did not understand the true powers of the Ethers and he El'ra.

"Queen you say?" Fyrain asked amused, "The only ruler we recognize in the Reach is Veran Atticus II, and he's dead. The true inheritor of the Empire is Edenyur Crarcean, descendant of Aldyuin Crarcean. The Yaar settled the Reach. This keep you stand in was built by the Yaar. The language you speak right now is from the Yaar. By all ways, shapes and forms, this world belongs to the Yaar."

[Achesia]

The elf smirked smugly at the actions of the Lord before him. Man was always like this, attempting to place themselves above the races of Yaar. They were all ignorant, they did not understand the true powers of the Ethers and he El'ra.

"Queen you say?" Fyrain asked amused, "The only ruler we recognize in the Reach is Veran Atticus II, and he's dead. The true inheritor of the Empire is Edenyur Crarcean, descendant of Aldyuin Crarcean. The Yaar settled the Reach. This keep you stand in was built by the Yaar. The language you speak right now is from the Yaar. By all ways, shapes and forms, this world belongs to the Yaar."

Lord Koud's face turned into a turse expression. He clapped his hands, his eyes focused on the ignorant elf.

"It's time for you to leave. There is no king here." From behind the elves several guards appeared, fully armed and armored and prepared to escort the elves out of the city.

"There is no King or ruler of the reach." Queen Alexandria interjected as she stared too at the elven ambassador who ignorantly bleated a song of unfulfilled dreams.

[Everhall]

Fyrain held his nose high as the guards entered into the room. He towered over the Lord already, and looked down on him with scrutiny,

"Unfortunately you do not have a choice in this lady Alexandria. Allow me to explain what will occur with your refusal. I shall return home to my liege, and report your ignorant response. Edenyur shall send for the Order of the Phoenix, General Aracio will march on Atlas, he will kill your citizens, burn your crops, and burn your kingdom and your dynasty yo the ground. King Edenyur and General Aracio are yaar not to be trifled with. If your answer to me remains a no, I assure you, Dread shall rain on your Kingdom."

[The United Equstrian Front]

Belroy Farms
Tarkus
The beastman watched the wild skeleton and the resurrected zombies shamble toward him. He snorted and limbered himself up, "Norray please give me strength to rid these poor souls back to the beyond." He then clangs his axes together. They give off a soft blue glow. Tarkus charges in and slices through two zombies and chops into a skeleton, he kicks zombie away from him and settles back to parrying a few attacks before he goes back to chopping through 4 skeletons and finishes off the last zombie with an execution. He flicks his axes and sheaths them, after he piled up the zombies and burned them he kneels, after mumbling a few prayers Tarkus stands turns and walks to the meeting point of the couple who owned this farm.

[Kaledoria]

Jack Copperhand,
Beastman Mercenary

He could not hear jokes about him being a "bloodhound" anymore. Jack was on the track of an unknown individual, that had contact with at least two spies of unknown affiliation, who tried to destabilize Norravägg. His story was, that the man he was looking for was a former employer, who had scammed his mercenary band for quite a sum of gold coins and he was out to demonstrate, why people in general keep their end of mercenary contracts.

He had gathered, that this "Mr X" had entered the northern realm about 8 weeks ago and changed quite a load of Reachmen silver, mostly from the eastern parts, into local currency and passed in the other direction 2 weeks later. Since then, Jack was on his trail, asking around at inns along the main road. Around Summerset he had almost lost the track but concluded, that the money for the spies had to come from somewhere. No coin exchange had changed larger amounts of Elven coinage two to three month ago, so Jack concluded, that the attacker must either have come from Summerset or from further south. He checked the second option first and in deed picked the track back up after about a week.

In the small trade village Lindhoven, located at the meeting of the main roads leading to Summerset, Atlas and Isnhrion, in a rather comfortable inn called the Amber Gate, he found the most promising lead so far, as Mr X had rented a room here not twice but thrice in the last month. The innkeeper remembered well, because the first time, he payed in Elven coin (he takes a 1/5th extra fee on that), the other times in Achesian money. And, as the innkeeper was willing to share for a mighty big tip, the first time about three month ago, he was accompanied by three men, clearly Nords by the looks of it but speaking like Grovemen. The descriptions of two of the men clearly matched the spies Jack knew about. Mr X returned for a night a week later - about the time to get to Atlas and back if one was in a hurry - and once again just over a week ago.

Jack concluded, that Mr X came from the east, either with the spies accompanying him or meeting them here. The spies probably went towards Norravägg on their own, while Mr X went to Atlas, maybe exchanging more Elven coins, maybe picking up money from other sources. But where did he go now? Back to the start, or back to Atlas. Then Jack saw a riverboat docking at a nearby pier and realized, that one could much more comfortably do the trip to Atlas and back on the river. In fact, the quartermaster of the boat told him, that passengers were one of their main sources of income and that last week, a person fitting Mr X's description was one of them.

About three days later, Jack had reached Atlas.

[Zanera]

Braern the Lesser
Southeastern Reach
Route to Atlas

---

CHAPTER FOUR: A LONG TREK TO A FAMILIAR DESTINATION

---

After further walking the amount of small farming towns grew denser, and eventually some were outright towns in and of themselves. The roads were comparably more busy than on other stretches of road away from central points of civilization, and it could only mean the group was nearing Atlas now. There were a few dirty looks cast in the group's direction, but no one ever had any real quarrels with them. Sometimes someone recognized Braern and greeted him in passing. If the people on the roadways weren't too happy, there was always the permanent inhabitants of the towns bordering the road, who seem relatively pleased.

The group hadn't lost any members, and everyone was generally well. Everyone was as well fed as they could be, and water wasn't too much of a worry. Braern did not plan on getting food right away in Atlas. Instead, he wanted to worn the queen as soon as possible. Except now he could hear his stomach rumbling and feel a pit of emptiness in his abdomen. It didn't feel nice. He had dealt with these pangs of hunger and starvation before, but it felt especially severe this time around. It'd take hours to beg for the money to buy the food, though.

The city was now in sight. While the rest of the group was enthralled by the sight, Braern noticed no notable new changes since the last time he was here. Braern decided it was a good enough sight for the rest of the group to look at while they all sat to rub their feet. It was a very long trip, and of course they'd eventually get corns and such, ans some aches. Braern found out a long time ago that a traveler's foot always ached. He also found out that people could always be much more interesting than a simple sight or piece of architecture.

Braern had been all around Eroris, except Noravagg, Orsinium, and the northern parts of Eldrion. He also hadn't been to Valyaria since he was an older child. Still, Braern had seen a few Lupans. This, if it was a Lupan, was horribly deformed. It did not look like a Lupan, besides having the form of an animal, and had fur. Braern caught it's eye, and it finally found Braern had been staring at it.

[Kaledoria]

Jack Copperhand,
Beastman Mercenary

Walking through the streets of Atlas, Jack caught quite a few looks. [i]It's not like there are absolutely no Lupans in the Reach, what's up?" he thought, but when (after quite a while) he spotted two Lupans in the shadows of a shack in a small side alley, he realized, that it was not just his dashing handsome black and white fur, that separated him from the usual image of a Lupan but also the fact, that he was armed to the teeth. The fact, that here around, his kind was a by far smaller minority than in the North did not mean, that they were seen as something else then beggars, thieves and scum.

Therefor, when entering a small, dirty inn in the poorer part of town, he opened with "How much for a room with a good lock, where I can store my stuff?" The innkeeper, whose body language to this point had indicated, that he was preparing to grab his weapon from under the counter relaxed at the idea of the Beastman putting away that polearm, shield and axe he was carrying around. A while later, back in the common room, without weapon and only armored with the Gambeson, he was given a jug of fresh water, without even having to ask. "Where would I find work around here?" Jack opened. He knew, that in towns, it was not wise to go straight ahead and ask the important questions. Besides, other mercenaries would be much more cooperative given the cover story that Jack had practiced the last weeks.

The innkeeper was not amused: "Not here, this may be a humble establishment but for such work, you have to go lower. The cockroach-infested tavern "Black Dragon" has a backroom with what calls itself a 'mercenary guild' but honestly it's just a registry of Thugs for clients, that forego hiring some hedge knights or established mercenary bands, because their jobs are shady at best." Despite the indirect insult, Jack smiled. He asked for the names of those "established" bands and convinced the human, that he was optimistic about being able to join them despite the fact, that he was a Lupan and a foreigner but afterwards he went to the black dragon nevertheless.

The mercenary guild's business model was simple: Freelance mercenaries payed a silver every month to be members and clients payed three silver to get in contact with the members. The barkeeper/tavern owner/guild master was obviously no man of prejudice and when Jack said he wanted to register, he hearty granulated him to this wise decision and promised him job opportunities within the next days. "Just yesterday, I had to sent a client who wanted a caravan guard away, because right now, everybody is booked, I tell you something is brewing up, there was no demand like the last week for ... I don't know, at least 5 years."
The host promised to check, whether the caravan job was still available and Jack nodded even though he had no intention about taking the job. What interested him far more was, who was hiring all the other muscles, or "Thugs" as his innkeeper had called them.

Planing his next move, Jack considered the local weapon-smith or fletcher. Mercenaries needed supplies after all. But there was another place, where he could find them, given that they were currently employed.
The first beggar, whom Jack asked about directions to the next brothel, after giving him 3 copper pieces, answered with racial slurs, that even a whore was to good for a Beastman and he should leave and fuck some Noraväggian bitches (which was not actually an insult among Lupans). Of course he needed a good thrashing, Jack had to stay in the role, and that's exactly what a Beastman mercenary would have done in that situation.
The second beggar was more cooperative. He looked at Jack slightly disgusted but he had just gotten the money for a good, big beer, so he gave him the desired direction.

In the evening he took position in a alley near the brothel, he had replaced his Gambeson with some rags and turned the white parts of his fur grayish with some charcoal and thus fitted better into the human image of what a Lupan should look like. It did not take long, until he saw a brutish man in chain-mail enter the house and leave it about a quarter of an hour later. Luckily the sun had just sat and it was possible for Jack to follow then man around. He lead him to a somewhat better part of town and Jack feared that his disguise would not work around here but luckily, the man turned right into one of the first houses. While rushing to his inn, Jack formed a thesis: [i]I know, Mr X has some money and right now, he is probably somewhere in the city. The nobles of this kingdom have no interest in the politics of my homeland, it's to far away for that, so he is more likely affiliated with some other group. Somebody is hiring mercenaries en masse, that may be the same group or, if I'm really lucky, a rivaling group. In that case I may have some possible allies here. But I should not count on it. If I'm really unlucky, that dude was just a random thug, who is employed to protect that house with no relation to the larger forces at play. I need to observe the house a longer while to know.

Returning with some blankets and rations, Jack took position in a dark corner from where he could see the house but could not be seen himself. Night fell. The first thing he discovered was, that there was no light whatsoever in the house, when it's neighbors started to ignite their candles and fireplaces. It seamed, everybody in that house preferred to go to bed early, which was not, what Jack had expected.

It was late at night, Jack was almost dozing away, since the dark house really seamed like the most uninteresting place in the whole city, when something suddenly made his neck hair rise. He shivered and it surely was not the temperature, that finally had gotten to the point, where a northerner like him could really feel comfortable with. He looked around but could not pinpoint it, until he looked upwards. Above him, an area of the sky was just dark, in a wrong way. It was clearly not just a strange pattern of clouds, breaking the moonlight in an eerie way, there were almost no clouds this night anyway. Jack had been stargazing often enough to be pretty certain that there were some stars missing but it was not just that, he could vaguely see the contour of a huge fissure running across the sky, even though it was black before black to was somehow moving, pulsing and to look at it filled Jack with a bad feeling. He calmed himself down. Right now, there was nothing he could do about this. Tomorrow, he would withdraw to a more secluded location outside the walls, where he could ask the local spirits, what the hell that is but right now, all he could do was to continue to watch, doze and pray, that this tear in the sky had nothing to do with his target. Whatever it was, there was clearly something mighty magical and that would complicate the matter.

[The United Equstrian Front]

Road to Wolfhelm
Tarkus

The wolf walked with a spryness he had forgotten. At least somewhat, he had the occasional Nord glare or stare at him, which he had soon found was just the Nord's way for outsiders. His hackles rose as he caught sight of a familiar face, he increased his casual stroll to a jog. He clapped his hand on his former captain's shoulder, "Agnar Thorirsson, it's good to see you." He spoke. The Nord in question chuckled and tapped his gauntlet clad hand against the wolf man's bare chest, "Well good to see you Tarkus, heard you went to clear a farm, how did it go?" Tarkus nodded and glanced down at the nord, "I did and with little difficulty, had to burn the bodies though." He whispered since he just now noticed Agnar's family ahead of them. Agnar nodded and once again tapped the wolf's chest. "Tis the reason we fight soldier. Also why you take such lengths to protect that tribe of yours." Tarkus nods and clapped the captain's shoulder and nodded. He ruffled one of the tyke's hair and continued on the busy road. He heard the child say something to Agnar and the family laughed, he smirked and strolled ahead a small caravan and past an obvious mercenary company.