The Dark Tower Guild (Runes of Magic Fanfiction)

Bersabrea

Beginner

Posts: 11

Location: West Coast of North America

Occupation: house wife

Mood: Squint

1

Wednesday, November 2nd 2016, 12:29am

So this has been in the making for a couple years now. It's just a little story I cooked up when I was lonely but after finding a really good guild. I hope you can take a peek and like what you see. Disclaimer: Violence and Harsh Language Reader Discretion is Advised...

Lady Bachaeus's legs trembled as she forced herself to stand. Her slender
hands gripped her daggers she tried to lift them in a ready position.
Her black leather armor had been torn to shreds as blood dripped
from the fresh wounds. Yet her eyes, her dark green eyes narrowed
with focus. Her pained groans were stifled, silent. In the face of
her new adversary, she would never give him the satisfaction of her
tears. Her boots dug into the dry ground, but another lapse of
dizziness made her fall to her knees. Her locks of blonde hair
veiled her tiny face away from the two men standing away from her.

The older of the two lowered his bow and glanced at the cloudy blood red
skies of sunset. His light gray leather armor had small scratches
from his fight with Lady Bachaeus and sweat beaded his sun-kissed
face. Staring back at the struggling woman on her knees, he
instructed his companion leaning against a dry husk of a tree.
“She's all yours now, Dan.”

The man named Dan eased himself to his height. His clear hazel eyes were
filled with a rebellious fire cast away from the older man. “Leaving
me the scraps as usual, thanks Pops.”

“To heal, ya dumb ass,” the older man grumbled. “Bind'er up and
we'll take'er back to Obsidian Stronghold-”

“No,” Lady Bachaeus uttered. She attempted to stand once more. “I-I
need to get-”

“Ya wanna get stronger, little one,” the older man sat against the tree
to look over the small cut he received on his calf. “Ya refuse to
tell me your name, or even why ya want to get stronger. It takes
guts to attack my house, and someone with a death wish. But ya have
a scythe brand on your shoulder and by my house's code, I can't kill
a Scythe Rogue. So ya can make this easy for yourself by tellin' me
what the hell you do you think you want, or I can make sure my boy
Dan will make sure ya don't wake up for five years.”

Dan walked toward the fallen woman. He could tell by her shaking form,
that she was still conscious and perhaps willing to strike once more.
He halted, his shadow blanketed Lady Bachaeus in darkness.

Lady Bachaeus needed to fight more. She wanted to get stronger. There
were two people who counted on her. Two people waiting in a dark
cell at a location she would scour the entirety of Candara to find.
She stared at the two lines, crimson with blood, on her thighs. She
had lost so much blood her vision became blurred. She needed to hold
on and stay awake. For them...

Dan slid forward, catching the young woman in his arms. Blood smeared on
the breast of his gray leather jerkin. She felt as thin and light as
air. Dan discerned from the well-worn soles of her boots that the
woman walked everywhere. Dan whipped his head around at the sound of
cloth ripping to see his father bandaging the small gash in his leg.

“Dammit,” the old man grumbled. “That cat has claws...”

Dan laid the young woman on the dusty ground. “You messed her up,
that's for sure.”

“Bah, those were just playful taps,” the old man looked to the leg armor
that was tossed aside, useless from battle. “I did the same to ya
when ya were learnin'. Though you might wanna see about her right
arm above the elbow. I might have nicked somethin' important there.”

Dan lifted the woman's arm, careful of the white bone grip she still held
to the hilts of her daggers. “Damn, she is a Scythe Rogue...Won't
let go until her dying breath. I don't see anything important you
got. She just moved around too much is all.”

“Yeah she fought like she didn't give a damn,” the older man sighed. He
eased himself to his feet, grabbing the torn leg armor and clasping
it beneath his arm.

“Or like she didn't want to let go of something,” Dan muttered to
himself.

“Alright, quit foolin' around,” the older man limped toward his kneeling son.
His gloved hands wrapped around the brooch with his house crest:
three silver arrows crossed before a sapphire and silver eye. After
unclasping his long cobalt dyed wool cape, he threw it to his son.
“Unless ya don't remember your priorities?”

“Like a tree, from trunk to-” Dan was interrupted by the wad of cloth
falling on his face. He yanked his father's cape from his face,
indignant. He saw his father limp around them and ahead to another
dried husk of a tree where two horses had been crudely hitched to by
the reins.

“The stronghold ain't too far. We should make get there before it gets
too dark,” the older man said over his shoulder. “Don't do
anythin' stupid while I go fetch the horses.”

An evening breeze ran its thin fingers through the older man's mane of
long brown hair. His ice blue eyes narrowed as he wracked his mind
with possible identities of the lone Scythe Rogue.

Women Scythe Rogues were rarely seen outside of their underground
stronghold and been supposedly used as brood mares to replenish their
forces. The young woman's skin was uncommonly dark for a Scythe
Rogue, and she had been trained with those daggers. During his fight
with her, the older man could see the scars on her wrists, a
testament to the signature training of a Scythe Rogue that had their
novices literally bound to their daggers through their training. But
the mark had stayed his hand. The gruesome brand of the Scythe Rogue
was two small arched burns, symbolizing two crossed scythe blades.

The older man stuffed the torn leg armor into one of the saddle bags and
untied the reins. Of all the days to have been interrupted by a
petulant young woman, the Scythe Rogue picked the proper day.
Glancing at the folded piece of parchment, he rolled his eyes in
derision and led the two stallions to where his son was now standing,
laden with the limp body of the young woman.

“Is there anything else to know about her from the fight, Father?” Dan
was emboldened to ask.

“Nothin' more than you might notice,” the older man heaved himself onto his
horse and shifted in his saddle to make room for the woman.

Without any question, Dan handed Lady Bachaeus's body to his father's
awaiting arms. He sat her up, her head leaning against the older
man's broad chest.

“Ride off ahead of us and tell Dubh that we were held up,” the older man
wrapped his arm around the body and with his free hand, grasped the
reins. “But don't do or say anything else.”

“Should I bring the summons?” Dan slung himself onto the remaining horse.
“Lord Dubh might want to-”

“I'll be right behind ya, Dan. Ya know how that maniac hates unexpected
waits.”

“More like his wife hates waiting,” Dan muttered beneath his breath.

“What?”

“I err mean,” and with a click of his mouth, Dan ushered his horse to
a canter. He shouted over his shoulder. “I'll see ya there old
man!”

The older man suppressed the urge to gallop after Dan's retreating form
to give him a well deserved disciplinary throttling. “Dammit, all
I need to give him is an inch and he'll hang me with it.” Slapping
the reins against the stallion's long ebony neck, the horse began to
canter along the road to Obsidian Stronghold.

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Bersabrea

Beginner

Posts: 11

Location: West Coast of North America

Occupation: house wife

Mood: Squint

2

Wednesday, November 2nd 2016, 1:33am

A roaring fire illuminated the grand hall and cast a warm amber glow
upon the polished wooden table. In the northwest corner of the hall,
a man and woman lounged in large plush blood red silken cushions.
The woman played with one of the corner tassels, bored with the
meeting. Two candelabras were blazing behind her A
roaring fire illuminated the grand hall and cast a warm amber glow
upon the polished wooden table. In the northwest corner of the hall,
a man and woman lounged in large plush blood red silken cushions.
The woman played with one of the corner tassels, bored with the
meeting. Two candelabras were blazing behind her and casting an
enchanted glow. She was clad in a gown of white silk that darkened
her skin and accentuated her seductive body. Her hair hung like a
mane of black curls which smelled of jasmine.

Her counterpart, beaming with pride at his beautiful wive, kept his left
arm protectively around her waist. In his mouth, he chewed on the
end of a pipe oozing fragrant smoke. Inhaling deeply, he closed his
almond-shaped brown eyes to savor the intoxicating smoke filling his
throat and mouth.

The doors opened to reveal a cloaked, hooded being ushering a smaller
being. Behind the taller being, an escort of two wiry men flanked
the cloaked couple. The hooded being drew away his hood and rested
his hand back onto the tiny shoulders of the shorter being.

The reclined man opened his eyes, recognizing the face of the visitor.
“Ah, Aang...So glad you could make it. And I see you brought the
young Daydreana with you?” He motioned the group to seat
themselves at the benches.

“She refuses to leave my side when I come back from the siege games,”
the man named Aang smiled. He gently lifted her beneath the arms and
helped her to her seat. “I hope you don't mind.”

“The Dark Tower Guild is a family guild, Aang you know as much,” the
reclined man laughed, buffs of the fragrant smoke wafted in the air.

“I am glad to see his lordship is in good humor and well,” Aang turned
to one of the escort and motioned him to stand outside of the door.
“However Lady Dubh does not seem so?”

“She tends to be testy when she is...deprived,” the reclining man, Lord
Dubh, caressed his wife lovingly after being chastised by her cold
glare.

“If this seems inopportune for you,” Aang stood from his seat. “I am
sure Lord Slii would not mind addressing this issue tomorrow?”

“This should not take long,” Lord Dubh waved Aang's concern dismissively.
“As leader of the Dark Tower Guild these house mergers are
important for Dalanis records and to consolidate the censuses for the
beginning of the year. We need not have Aillic's Community working
too hard now?”

“I see,” Aang reached into the pocket in his cloak to produce a folded
parchment.

“Now we just need to wait for Lord Slii to-” Lord Dubh was interrupted
by a younger man rushing through the open doorway.“Lord
Dubh,” the younger man bowed reverently. “We were held up, my
father will be joining soon.”

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Bersabrea

Beginner

Posts: 11

Location: West Coast of North America

Occupation: house wife

Mood: Squint

3

Wednesday, November 2nd 2016, 2:36am

“Ah, Dan son of Slii,” Lord Dubh's brown eyes were glazed from the
intoxicating fumes. “Your father normally doesn't keep us
waiting...is there something wrong?”

“Lord Slii had-” Dan held his tongue. “I was only instructed to tell
you that we were held up.”

“And by what? What could possibly hold up one of my best archers in the
seige games?” Tendrils of mauve smoke oozed from Lord Dubh's pipe,
entwining rope-like fingers around Dan's throat and squeezing.

Dan coughed, choking beneath the wrath of the mellow Lord Dubh. His eyes
widened, how could he tell if this man was angry when he always
smiled that creepy grin?

“Lord Dubh,” another man grumbled from the doorway. “Let me punish my
son, if it pleases your lordship, after these delegations?”

The tendrils withdrew and Dan fell to his knees to drink in gulps of air.
Dan rubbed his neck, feeling tiny scratches flayed into the skin.
His eyes instinctively went to the bench that he rested his left hand
on. He could see from across the table, a man shielding a child away
from the confrontation.

“Perhaps we should discuss the merger then?” Aang said calmly.

“Yeah, the house merger,” Lord Slii's eyes focused on the smiling Lord
Dubh.

“Oh, but my curiosity is piqued,” Lord Dubh stood up, his sinewy form
seemed to stop short of Lord Slii's navel. “It seems your young
ward has blood on his jerkin...and no injury?”

Dan suppressed a shudder as tendrils of smoke escaped Lord Dubh's thin
smiling lips with clicking laughter. Lord Dubh gasped to feign
surprise and he glanced back at his languishing wife. “He drew
blood from someone else?” His glittering gaze turned back to Lord
Slii. “You must be proud, papa.”

Gripping the back collar of Dan's jerkin, Lord Slii heaved his son to his feet
and whispered. “You dumb ass I told you not to do anything
stupid!”

Aang cleared his throat. “If I may be so bold as to surmise that maybe
his lordship is deprived as well but only of the bloodshed and war of
the siege games?”

“Well it sure as hell ain't our fault our brilliant leader hasn't shown
himself in almost the entire season,” Lord Slii helped his son to
one of the benches.

Dan plopped himself in front of the cloaked guise of Aang's daughter who
smiled shyly at the young man. In her hands she brought out a large
acorn to pass the time and roll on the smooth oaken surface.

“Be careful with your oak seed, my dear,” Aang withdrew his protective
arm from his young daughter. “Tend to it well and it will become a
walker that will protect you.”

“Yes, Papa,” the little girl smiled.

“Gentlemen if you wish to measure your weapons, might I ask you do so after this
meeting?” Lady Dubh rolled her eyes. “Lord Slii, do you have
your ledger of inventory?”

Lord Slii drew a folded parchment from the left satchel at his waist.
“Everythin' is accounted for for the next siege game including
recycled elements.” Lord Slii walked toward the awaiting Lady
Dubh.

Lord Dubh snatched the folded parchment from the veteran's grasp and
looked over the contents. “You have nine forges?”

“Uh-huh,” Lord Slii answered coolly.

“Yet six are working in full force?”

“If I had more resources I'd have all nine forges going. Hence the
merger?” Lord Slii felt a tickling sensation around his face and
smiled. “That's cute Dubh, but you can't use your little smoke
trick on me.”

Lord Dubh's eyes narrowed and he grumbled, “Dammit.”

“I know it seems cruel to ask that both houses be merged. The house of
Slii goes back three generations, hence the three arrows on the
family crest,” Lady Dubh continued the deliberations. “Though I
am sure the patriarch would be willing to keep your crest separate or
try to merge your crest with his own. As it stands you are only
known as Aang. We have very little record of your family or your
roots other than you have a cabin and two mines to the west. The
cabin is a four day ride to the patriarch's abode and a two day ride
to the closer of the two mines. Would you be willing to do this
merger?”

“I would like to think we are a family,” Aang glanced from his
daughter to Lady Dubh. “That we are able to help one another when
times are trying. The minerals and ore that are mined by my
employees belong to the Dark Tower Guild. Therefore I accept the
merger into the House of Slii. I do not ask for a family crest to be
made or merged. Nor do I ask mergers to be commenced through
marriage. My daughter Daydreana will find a suitor of her own.”

“T'is merely paper, my friend,” the candelabras caught a faint blush on
Lady Dubh's face. “I do not ask Dan or Daydreana to participate in
this merger. The Dark Tower is a bit unconventional as to alliances
through marriage. We do not accept those since my husband and I see
it as bribery, particularly under circumstances of Daydreana
herself.”

“That is all I ask,” Aang said simply.

Lord Slii walked back to the bench, silencing his son's guffaw with a
sharp slap to the back of the head. “Well that was easy. And just
ta be clear, I won't ask for an alliance via marriage either. I
wouldn't want ta subject your daughter ta...” His eyes narrowed at
his wincing son. “An unwanted life.”

Lady Dubh swung her long legs from the cushion. Her graceful form dwarfed
that of her husband. She pushed away stray black locks from her face
with long thin fingers. Her sun kissed bare feet padded quietly on
the cold stone floor as she seemed to float to her husband. “Jack,
be a dear and fetch the papers please?”

Dan gawked, stunned at her beauty. Lord Slii swallowed nervously. Even
Aang had to turn away, thinking that Lady Dubh's beauty was a test to
his own loyalty to his wife.

With a last disdainful glance to his officers, Lord Dubh stomped away to
the open doorway and shut it quietly behind him.

Lady Dubh sat at the head of the table, her dark eyes measuring the two
older men. Her plump, rouged lips parted in a playful smile.
“Gentlemen, I must ask this question once more. Depending on your
answer will bring Jack back to the battlefield of the siege games and
on to pillaging obscure places across Candara. Would either of you
be willing to carry the standard of the Dark Tower. To lead the
members in Jack's stead?”

“Wha-” Dan's eyes widened. His curiosity was silenced once more by sharp,
chastising discipline.

“Ya know my answer, Lady Dubh,” Lord Slii sighed, exasperated. “If
Lord Dubh doesn't have the stomach to lead us anymore he should at
least have the stomach to dissolve the guild himself.”

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Bersabrea

Beginner

Posts: 11

Location: West Coast of North America

Occupation: house wife

Mood: Squint

4

Wednesday, November 2nd 2016, 3:20am

“But we will be all ripe for Kanu's ridicule of the Tower's fall,” Aang
whispered. “I cannot bare the mantle of leader. That in itself
would play into Kanu's hands.”

“Kanu wouldn't be your only problem,” Lord Slii grumbled. “He'd be
your bigger problem but not your only problem. That manipulative
bastard...”

“Is this the reason why you called us?” Aang demanded.

“Over the span of the next few months, houses will need to be
consolidated,” Lady Dubh spread her fingers before her on the
table. “Dalanis is undergoing an investigation and they want to
make sure everyone is accounted for. Why this is happening, I am not
sure. More officers like you will be asked the same question I ask
you. Jack doesn't want to ask because-”

The door opened on quiet hinges, but the clanking of Lord Dubh's sandals
interrupted his wife's discussion. Standing over the seated Lord
Slii, Lord Dubh slapped a pile of five papers onto the table. “Well,
what's your answer? Will you lead in my stead?”

“No,” Lord Slii and Aang said in unison.

“Alright,” Lord Dubh grabbed an inked quill from the end of the table and walked
back to Lord Slii's side. “I'll need you to sign here Aang,
agreeing that you are wanting to be merged with the House of Slii and
that you are willing to supply the resources of copper and iron from
your respective mines to the respective forges of Darr. Darr, I need
you to sign here, agreeing that you are responsible for refining,
forging, smelting and recycling the resources given to you. Once
that is done you can go about your night.”

With a few strokes of the quill, Aang ushered his daughter from the room,
followed by Lord Slii and Dan. Dan rubbed the back of his head,
still wincing from the last disciplinary action against him.

The streets of the Obsidian Stronghold were sparse with travelers. Torch
lights flickered at the thresholds of businesses that were open,
particularly taverns. The black gravel, said to be flakes of
obsidian and onyx, crushed beneath the group's leather boots.

“You seem on edge as well, my friend,” Aang addressed Lord Slii. “I
wonder as well how Dan got that blood on his jerkin?”

“We were interrupted,” Lord Slii answered, easing to a limping stride.
“She's a rogue. A young rogue.”

“And you didn't wish to tell Dubh about the rogue,” Aang followed Lord
Slii down the road to a tavern two buildings away.

“I don't even know who she is but she asked for Slii,” Lord Slii said.
“And that's me...”

* * * * * *

Water dripped from the high ceiling and stained the walls with glistening streaks. Laying down
on a makeshift rack was a young man in tattered clothes stained with
ash and blood. His thin fingers were draped over his grimy face and
left eye that was bruised shut. His knobby knees were drawn up, and
his feet played with the gnarled wood of the rack in boredom.

The main door, lined with iron bars, opened to bathe the room with a dim light. Grunts and shouts
came from the open doorway as another young man was thrown into the
cell.

The newcomer's back slammed against the stone wall with a loud bang. He crumpled to the ground
in a bone-thin mess.

“You two better remember more!” the jailer shouted before slamming the door shut.

Both young men could hear the faint guffaws and murmurs peppered with the same derogatory phrases
and names that they had heard the day before and the day before that.

“You tell em yet, Max?” the young man on the rack asked.

The young man on the floor drew a pained, shuddering breath. His tattered clothes were drenched and
his unkempt mane of black locks were slick against his broken face.
Bracing himself against the floor, the young man sat up and spit out
a broken tooth. “N-n-no, you?”

“Nope,” the young man on the rack sat up.

“L-looks like t-they treated you b-better, Aash,” Max said, shivering and groaning.

“I drew blood,” Aash smiled impishly. “Told you to do it too.”

Max coughed and spat out more blood, smiling. “I broke a set of fingers.”

Aash swung his legs forward and stood from the rack. He limped to the huddled, shivering Max and
held out a helping hand. “So who wins?”

Max grabbed the hand gratefully, “None of us got out, so no one.”

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Bersabrea

Beginner

Posts: 11

Location: West Coast of North America

Occupation: house wife

Mood: Squint

5

Wednesday, November 2nd 2016, 6:00pm

Lady Bachaeus fell in and out of consciousness. Her nightmare began as she felt that she was void of her beloved daggers. Her strong groping grasp, and a groan from someone in pain (most likely from her, she mused) made her lapse back into unconsciousness. She heard faint murmurs of a meek older man in shock, “What the hell did you do to her?” This followed by the familiar, grumbling voice of her adversary from earlier: “None of that was me...”

Panic that would have filled her heart in any different case, that would have brought her to full consciousness, suddenly vanished. A cooling, calming peace filled her soul, gently prying her instincts, like her fingers to release...

She hated her dreams. Her dreams were mere memories playing over and over in her head. The House of Bachaeus was yet another obscure
house in Candara that taught the fine art of melee fighting. The common area was an open patch of land with targeting stakes and roped
off fighting grounds. She was only ten years old on the day that those life-changing visitors came.

Four men, three of which carried different house seals, approached the fighting grounds. The fourth individual, an elven warrior, approached the awaiting patriarch. As she casually worked on her parrying against a target stake, she could hear the five men
murmuring.

Their murmurs were quiet for several moments, before her father's voice dropped further in a deeper whisper. The men's discussion ceased
abruptly as the elven leader appraised the fighters on the grounds.

Dismissing their discussion, she proceeded to hack at the targeting stake. Her simple steel daggers slashed at red blotches that signaled vital
spots on the human body. Lunging and weaving with finesse, she repeated her attacks with speed and slight differences. She knew she
had to make her attacks short and lethal. Her movements had to be quick, and the sooner her speed was steadied, the sooner she would be
allowed to enter the fighting grounds.

“You, girl,” a masculine voice interrupted her lethal dance. Her right foot slid toward the stake, but with a quick step, she gracefully
stopped to stand. Her sweat-drenched, blonde locks were kept at bay by a leather ribbon.

She lowered her weapons, standing at the stake with her eyes downcast, as was custom in her house.

“If you want a Rogue,” she could hear her father's booming voice. “You may ask any of the able-bodied men in the fighting
grounds.”

“With all due respect, she has made the choice to train and fight among the men,” another of the four visitors said. “Should we not give her
that choice-”

“Though I admire your open mind, Lord Slii,” she could feel her father's protective grasp on her shoulder. “She is not prepared to fight.
We both also know what would become of her if she made that decision.”

Lady Bachaeus's dark green eyes fluttered open. The room was gently flooded with graying daylight. She lifted the quilts that covered her reclining form. Her face flushed red at the sight of her entire naked torso bound tightly in linen. A sharp pain shot through her dominant arm. Groaning, she grasped her bound arm that began to have a darker red streak seeping through the bandages. A wave of nausea and dizziness assailed her and reminded her at how much blood she lost. Her eyes rolled, but the thought of the two young men waiting for her gave her the
strength to pull through the wave.

“You're just full of surprises aren't you?” a younger masculine voice came from the open doorway.

Dan walked through the doorway, carrying a tray with a wooden pitcher and a wooden cup in his right hand. His left hand was bound in linen against a splint. With five long strides, Dan soon loomed over Lady Bachaeus's right.

Lady Bachaeus recognized the smug young man from the canyon, though his older companion was no where to be seen. She parted her thin, dry lips but no words could escape her parched throat. Her tongue felt like a dead weight in her mouth.

Upon seeing Lady Bachaeus's blushed countenance, his smug face broke into an impish grin reminiscent of someone Lady Bachaeus knew as Max. “The man who saved your life is happily married.” Dan held a cup of water to Lady Bachaeus's lips. “And as for the man who spared your
life...let's just say that you are too young for his taste.”

Lady Bachaeus gulped the refreshing water down greedily. She could barely remember when she last had food and water, much less time to rest for however long she was unconscious.

Dan drew away the cup, noticing that most of the water was drained.

“Why-” the question came out of Lady Bachaeus like a croak.

“Why he spared you?” Dan rubbed his bare chin, thinking. “I dunno. My old man is odd like that. He should have killed you for what you did to Slii Manor, Scythe Rogue or not.”

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Bersabrea

Beginner

Posts: 11

Location: West Coast of North America

Occupation: house wife

Mood: Squint

6

Wednesday, November 2nd 2016, 9:37pm

“He can't-” Lady Bachaeus began.

“Quit pickin' on her!” a small voice shouted from the doorway. “She's gotta heal as much on her own as she can before Papa gets back with Miss Monie.” A small girl with bright amber eyes stomped into the room. In her arms, she carried a tray with a piping bowl of soup as well as a plate with three pieces of sweet bread prepared with such finesse that made Dan stare longingly.

“I'm merely answering questions is all,” Dan felt chaffed beneath the authoritative mannerisms of a girl several years younger than himself. “She woke up on her own.”

“Where am I?” Lady Bachaeus's eyes moved from the little girl to the older boy.

“In a room,” Dan turned to the nightstand to pour more water into the cup from a tall wooden pitcher. He was startled slightly by the little girl's glare. “You're in Obsidian Stronghold...better Daydreana?”

“Much better,” the little girl known as Daydreana flashed an innocent smile. “Remember what Papa told you, Dan?”

“Yeah,” Dan suppressed a shudder as he remembered the night before:

They followed Lord Daar to a quiet tavern outside of Trader's Square. There an assistant to the innkeeper, a curly haired boy not much
older than Daydreana, led the group up the main stairs and down the hall to a lone door at the end. The little boy opened the door to a
grand room lit by a roaring fire in the fireplace.

“Your friend is in the second room, milord,” the boy said humbly. “The linen and hot water are by the bed side.”

“Thanks Ferinz,” Lord Slii said. “Let your father know that my friends and I are stayin' a while and not to be too surprised if I get some
more company.” Taking out a pouch of coins from his pocket, Lord Daar walked the boy to the door and handed the boy the pouch that
looked like a bag in the boy's small grasp.

“Did you want any food or drink brought up, milord?”

“Eh...the usual and steamed milk for the little one,” Lord Slii instructed before shutting the door.

Dan opened the door to a room lit by a flickering candle at the nightstand. Bundles of linen cloth and a bowl of steaming water were
set next to the candle.

“Dan, let Aang see to her,” Lord Slii patronized.

“Did you use a crystal yet?” Aang peeled back one of the torn sleeves to reveal the rogue's brand: two small crossed scythes. He then drew
away the blanket to reveal the young woman's body covered with bruises and deep crimson lines peering from the cut leather of the
breeches. Her toes, gray from travel and dirt were jutting through the holes in her boots.

“Ain't she too young for that?” Lord Slii stopped at the foot of the bed.

Aang looked over the young woman's injuries. “Perhaps your rank may be too high...Daydreana.”

The little girl stepped into the bedroom. Her bright amber eyes regarded the proceedings with a cool but childish wonder.

“I'll need your crystal, Daydreana,” her father instructed.

Daydreana walked to her father's side as he unfastened the bodice of the woman's vest.

“Dan,” Lord Slii snapped the oggling young man back to reality.

“Gods, what the hell did you do to her?” Aang regarded the grizzled veteran incredulously.

“Not all of that was me,” Lord Slii explained. “Mainly the arms and legs...when I saw the brand I just wanted to slow her down.”

Aang sighed, taking the proffered jade no larger than his daughter's fist. “Scythe rogues...” He winced as he brought a sharp edge of the
crystal along his palm. Smearing a streak of blood along one of the facets of the crystal, he said. “They were once known for their
sickle and chain weapons. Even sickle blades alone. Now they are merely known for their tenacity. Their endurance-” Aang jolted
back, pushing his daughter back against the wall with lightning speed as he noticed the young woman's wrist twitch slightly.

Dan, too slow to see the movement, was caught by his right hand in a vice-like grip. He groaned in pain, the feel of his own bones
cracking from the force made him struggle further. “What the hell? She's suppose to be-”

“She's coming to,” Aang whispered. “Daydreana, activate the crystal!”

Daydreana's tiny fingers wrapped around the blood smeared jade. Her eyes darkened to brown and focused on the young woman fighting back to consciousness. She stepped forward, gently pushing away her father's protective arm. The crystal cast a green glow from her grip. The gem floated from her fingers and above the bed. Her father's blood seeped into the jade, imbuing the crystal's healing aura with his own cleric powers. Daydreana's lips parted to speak, but her voice had become more hollow as she spoke in a druidic tongue.

Aang bound his hand and nodded, understanding the simple phrase as, “Ready, Papa.” Bringing his hands forward in prayer, his heart
called to his master, the water dragon Zaerthos. 'I pray to thee, guardian of the northern seas, this mortal's heart is a tempest that
must be quelled. Please, Master Zaerthos, may your calming waves grace her with time to heal. In your name, let her be at peace.'

The crystal's green light dimmed to a vibrant cobalt.

“You may want to brace yourselves,” Aang warned before waves of calming mists emanated from the crystal, showering everyone in the room.

Lord Slii fell to his knees, gripping the bedpost before he could fall further. Dan also slammed his knees against the floor. Dan
remembered the sheer force his father had to use to pry the woman's hand open. He almost wondered how the callous yet slender fingers
were still not broken. Calming waves from the priest's spell assuaged the two men and within moments, the iron grip was released.

Aang sighed, his communion with his master had dissipated for the time being. His weary eyes gazed upon the suspended jade, which now had a cobalt streak where he had smeared his blood. “She will sleep at last. Hopefully until we get back from the siege games in the
morning.”

Dan gaped at his gnarled hand. His fingers were bent in painful positions. He looked helplessly to his mused father.

“Looks like she broke your casting hand, boy,” Lord Slii chuckled.

“B-but the siege games,” Dan sighed sadly, bereft of the opportunity to fight.

“I suppose that's all fine and well,” Aang brushed off what looked like flakes of snow from his cloak. “Daydreana is close to spent
as well. She can alleviate some of the pain. And I wouldn't leave the Scythe Rogue alone.”

Lord Slii patted his son's shoulder. “Looks like you're babysittin'.”

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Bersabrea

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Location: West Coast of North America

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Mood: Squint

7

Wednesday, November 2nd 2016, 10:37pm

The sun's rays sifted through the storm clouds. Banners of the Dark Tower Guild whipped in the autumn wind. Lord Slii, mounted on his ebony stallion, sidled to the front ranks where the officers converged and switched scrolls and various potions.

“Well there's Daar,” a Shadowforge dwarf took a sip of the green contents in a vial.

A sinewy elf, mounted atop a preening hippogryph, smiled at Lord Slii and Aang. “You made it
just in time. We were trading empower offerings. And-”

“Trying to figure out the standard for today,” a man garbed in blood crimson vestments said.

“Hello Miss Monie,” Aang smiled back at the elf.

“McLou, Monie, Skore,” Lord Slii greeted the three curtly. “So Dubh is still out I see. That don't surprise me.”

“Any volunteers?” Skore looked to his fellow officers.

“I'll take herald,” the dwarf raised his tattooed hand. “We don't need the standard, do
we?”

“Standard is the delegate for the borrowed forces,” Lord Slii sighed. “They also make sure the lower ranks are contributing and not just sitting there with their thumbs up their-”

“I'll take the standard,” Aang answered. “I will be helping Monie at the gates anyways since we're dealing with the Kittens. We don't have enough forces to make the usual pushes, so we'll have to fortify defenses and mine crystal resources as fast as possible.”

Lord Slii raised his eyebrow, impressed that he wouldn't have to take the usual job of standard. “You've done standard before?”

“No, but I will have to do it eventually,” Aang grinned. Gathering the reins of his dapple grey mare, he coerced the mare to a trot to the awaiting group at the middle field.

A blue and grey robed mage stood at the center field. Her bone thin hands were clasped together. Her hood had been cast away to reveal an youthful visage. Her mane of salt and pepper hair was braided back, slightly tightening the skin of her face. She regarded the approaching man to her left with a nod, then looked to her right to see another rider coming to the middle.

When both riders met the mage, she looked to her right at the rider, a knight clad in glistening cobalt-colored armor. His broad face broke into a mused smile as he regarded his adversary.

The mage addressed the knight, “You, sir knight, please state your name and whose standard you carry to your competitor.”

“Maegister Isopod, I am Lord Kanu, I carry the standard of my guild, The Fire Kittens,” the knight stared down Aang.

Satisfied with his answer, she then looked to her left. “And you, enlightened one, please state your name and whose standard you carry to your competitor.”

“I am Aang and I carry the standard of the Dark Tower Guild,” Aang kept his defiant gaze to Lord Kanu.

Pleased with Aang's answer, Magius Isopod spoke once more. “Gaining the castle's crystal or crystal acquisition of two thousand units within the allotted time of one day and one night, will be the end of the game. To aid you will be the borrowed forces of Aillic's community as follows: eight crystal miners, eight carpenters, eight masons, four foremen, four blacksmiths, two champion guards, four sentry guards, ten summoners
and ten soldiers. These forces are temporary and once they are expunged, they can be summoned back within ten minutes. If no action is taken during that time, they will be taken out of the siege. The siege starts at sunset. Good luck, gentlemen.”

As the men turned their horses, the mage bowed her head and disappeared.

* * * * *

“I believe he threatened my mental state if anything bad happened to either of you under my watch,” Dan scoffed. He leaned away from the bed to leave the room. “Just let me know if you need anything, Daydreana-”

“The Slii House can't kill Scythe Rogues?” Lady Bachaeus blurted.

“Yeah,” Dan said over his shoulder. “My old man is a hard ass on the outside, but he helps those in need. You must have met him before or someone related to the Slii House to know where it is. If you at least tell me your name, I can at least figure if it was my old man that did...whatever they did to piss you off.”

Lady Bachaeus paused, her hand clasped tightly over the blanket. “I...I was once from a house, the Bachaeus House. I'm its last remnant. I was taken from my home and brought underground. I was-”

The stillness was broken by Daydreana's sheepish voice. “Tormented?”

Lady Bachaeus squeezed her eyes shut. Her answer was a quiet murmur. “Trained. I was trained to be what I am. But I managed to escape, remembering my name and the name Slii.” Her dark green gaze went from Daydreana to Dan. “Where is he?”

“My old man?” Dan turned to lean on the threshold. “He's out at the siege games. He won't be back for a couple of days. You plannin' on runnin' out on us? With all that blood loss and those injuries, it's a wonder you're up now. Leave us if you think it will get you want you want-”

“Dan-” Daydreana began. “My dad will kill you if-”

“Relax, Day,” Dan scoffed. His eyes narrowed as he glared at Lady Bachaeus. “She won't leave us, no matter how much stamina she thinks she has. Daar has the answers you want since he's the patriarch of the Slii House. I'll wager you can't even make it to this door.”

Lady Bachaeus felt her face flush red, her anger rising. “You would mock me?”

This post has been edited 1 times, last edit by "Bersabrea" (Nov 8th 2016, 4:40am)

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Bersabrea

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Location: West Coast of North America

Occupation: house wife

Mood: Squint

8

Tuesday, November 8th 2016, 4:31am

“Prove me wrong,” Dan folded his arms and smirked. “If you blush too much you'll get dizzy.”

Clutching the linen sheets to her bandaged body, Lady Bachaeus attempted to swing her feet to the floor. Waves of dizziness assailed the rogue. She could feel the cool wooden floor beneath her bare feet. Clutching the mattress of the bed with her free hand, she began to stand on shaking knees. She fought through the waves of nausea. Bile rose in the back of her throat. Her foot slid over the loose sheet, her balance shifted suddenly and her vision lapsed to darkness.

Dan chuckled. “She made it further than I thought.”

“Are you trying to kill her, Dan?” Daydreana seethed. She rushed to the crumpled body and gathered the young woman's limp body in her arms. “Why did you upset her like that?”

“Just measuring her threshold is all,” Dan hid a contented smirk as he began to walk back to the bed.

“You did enough! Go and...just go!”

Dan did not need to be told twice to leave the room. He had her name, and he hoped to get more information about her before his father came back to the tavern.

Daydreana's small arms wrapped around Lady Bachaeus. With a swift motion, she pulled the young woman back onto the bed. Dark red streaked through the linen bandages. Daydreana huffed, exasperated. That idiot made her open her wounds!

Daydreana stomped out of the bedroom to see Dan opening the main door to the tavern's hallway. “I hope you're happy with what you did, now I gotta redress her wounds!”

“Ferinz!” Dan called from the threshold.

“What are you doing now?” Daydreana's demand fell on deaf ears.

“Ferinz,” Dan called once more.

The familiar little boy from the following night bounded up the stairs to heed Dan's call. “I'm here.”

“Find me any information on Bachaeus that's in the Records Hall if you can find anything,” Dan instructed. “Come back here if you get anything or not.”

“Any Bachaeus?” Ferinz asked.

“Any and all before nightfall and I'll make sure you're rewarded,” Dan winked and smiled.

“Yes sir!” Ferinz raced back down the stairs.

Max had been the first to meet Lady Bachaeus. He remembered when he was first ushered through the grand oaken threshold of the House of Bachaeus. He had been orphaned when he was five years old, and was found by the gentle patriarch of the house. He remembered how much he wanted to be like the fighters on the grounds, whittling away at the wooden targets or even taking down one of his fellow peers in their grappling matches. But Lord Bachaeus wanted to see the boy's fate to something less violent as a house steward.

During the times assisting the patriarch in monetary affairs as well as cataloging the study, Max wondered if Lord Bachaeus was hiding
knowledge of his parents. Perhaps they died in battle? He would guess as he perused the various leather bound tomes that his master
collected.

One day, after finishing the textile inventories, Lord Bachaeus humored the now six year old Max by granting him permission to observe the fighters. To stand on that hallowed dirt patch was such a tremendous honor to the boy that he could barely contain his excitement. His eagerness had gotten the better of him that day. He raced to the field and into the groups of younger men fighting with unarmed
strikes.

Before a deadly blow could fell Max, a delicate grasp tugged at the back of his tunic with such quick force, he thought his shirt had ripped.

“Too young, kid,” a younger, feminine voice called out to him from behind.

He whirled on his savior to meet the light hazel eyes of a blonde girl who could have been his age. His tongue felt like a dead lump in his
mouth. “I err-uhh...”

“It's a shame, really,” the girl smiled. “I want to fight with them too since they sometimes take my cake after supper.” Releasing her
hold on Max's tunic, she motioned him to a gnarled stake of wood. She drew her daggers from their sheaths to a crouching ready position. Her hazel eyes darkened slightly as she focused on her target. Lunging forward, she slashed at the stake with a whirlwind of consistent blows. Her blonde hair whipped like a golden banner that tracked her movement. She weaved around the wooden target, her blades slashing at the red markings for vital points. The dust was kicked up in plumes around her ankles, concealing the lethal dance of her booted feet. Her gray linen tunic tightened as she began to stretch and leap higher. She was ambitious for fighting as Max, but she had been training to temper her enthusiasm. She slashed higher and faster, her strikes becoming more haphazard until...

This post has been edited 1 times, last edit by "Bersabrea" (Nov 8th 2016, 5:04am)

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Bersabrea

Beginner

Posts: 11

Location: West Coast of North America

Occupation: house wife

Mood: Squint

9

Tuesday, November 8th 2016, 5:29am

The scraping of metal against the stone floor awakened Max. His eyes winced open to see Aash, his cell mate, walking to the cell door where, through a bottom opening, a pair of bowls and mugs slid into their cell.

“Guess this means they're sorry for yesterday,” Aash noted the particularly larger helpings of the gray gruel as well as two tin cups of clean water.

“Or to mark they we've been here for another week,” grumbled Max as he sat up. Sloughing off the blankets, Max felt the side of his face.

Aash knelt to grab the bowls. “Yeah they put a shiner on both of us. Just didn't realize it til this mornin'.” He straightened to his height and walked to the wooden cot. “They brought us blankets before I was able to go to sleep. You were already out by that time. Wish I had your luck.”

“Reliving your memories? The good times clouding your thoughts and distracting you? I'd be more than willing to trade sleep for a clear head like yours...Do you remember anything while they interrogated you last night?”

Aash took the metal spoon from his helping and shoveled the gruel into his mouth. The mix of grain and fruit swirled in his mouth as he thought. “Our closest Aillic town is probably Abandoned Fortress. The beaches are familiar to the Ravenfell coast, but I'm not sure of the direction. At first I couldn't tell if we were on land or on a ship, but I think we're on land.”

“The interrogators had strange accents. At least mine did. I think I remember it's similar to Boulderwind.”

“Boulderwind, yeah,” Aash said through another mouthful of gruel.

“How can you just casually eat that stuff?”

Aash shrugged. “They mushed the grapes to make it not look so good. But there's fruit in there. We need any of the strength we can get.”

“And you didn't think it was poison?”

“I think we're going to die whether we eat this stuff or starve,” Aash said simply. “Your choice, Max.”

Max stared at the bowl of gray gruel in his lap, the metal spoon's handle almost melding with the gruel. Heaving a scoop out of the dish, Max sighed and shoved the portion into his mouth. He was unsure if hunger had any hand in his judgment, but the gruel tasted more delectable than the holiday cakes in the Bachaeus House. Grapes and bits of orange had been mixed with oats and milk, providing the proper vittles for pirates against scurvy.

“So what did you remember?” Aash gulped down some of the water.

Max gobbled down several mouthfuls. “We might be on a ship. The interrogation room was bobbing a little. That and Boulderwind has sturdy resources for ships. Trove pirates are decent ship builders-”

“Decent enough to put stone on a ship? I doubt that.”

“Well we're surrounded by water, you and I both hear it through the walls.”

“Doesn't mean we're on a boat. The interrogation room might be on a boat. But we're on solid ground here.”

“Could it be both then?”

Bangs on the cell door silenced the two prisoners.

The sun's dying rays signaled the start of the seige games. Standing at the onyxian parapets of the Dark Tower's guild castle, Aang and Monie watched out for on coming forces.

Worries furrowed his brow, and he began to wonder if his strategies would work. He quietly prayed for forgiveness from his master for not asking for his or blessing in battle. The plans and discussions had taken most of his time and focus.

The battleground before the castle was empty, and the faint sound of hammering and crystalline ringing seemed deafening to the brooding priest.

“You've done well, Aang,” Monie laid a reassuring hand on Aang's shoulder. “Daar did not question or complain and neither did Skore.”

An inscription upon his casting hand morphed to several columns of numbers that ascended and descended. Aang looked to the ever-changing inscription, his eyes widened slightly. “Daar managed to take another tower. McLou donned the herald's armor already.”

“Ever the enthusiastic Shadowforge dwarf,” Monie chuckled. “Shall I see to the smither's empowerments?”

“Cast the first round,” Aang said, trying make sense of his brand as well as trying not to show discomfort. “Save the crystals for offensive scrolls.”

With a curt nod, Monie descended the stairs to the smithing forge below. Within moments, Aang could feel a numbing sensation over his entire body. The first round of the smith's refined steel spell had been cast. Aang glanced to his right to see a humming crystal tower. Two crystal miners and two of his fellow guild mates chipped away at the pyramid-shaped sapphire. His glance moved to his left where another sapphire was being whittled away.

The top column began to descend in number. Aang sighed, Better now at the start than the end. He whirled on the workers in the castle. “Prepare the scrolls! Cast another round of steel empowerment! Carpenters to the main entrance and stand by for the assault!”

Thundering hoof beats and screeches of hippogryphs startled Aang into action. He raced down the stairs, the inscription on his hand tingling as he readied his spell. “Monie, they're coming!”

Monie took her position at the gate to the crystal's room. Grabbing a handful of finely ground bark chips from one of her pouches, she whispered an airy prayer that carried the dust to the gates of the main entrance, fortifying the wood to almost metallic strength.

The familiar shouts of Daar rang in the castle. “Well that didn't take long!”

Aang turned to see Daar running to the stables and grabbing another horse. “They're coming to our door-”

“If they aren't already," Daar grumbled. “Skore! Get your ass out of the summoning area and let's give that Kanu another beating!”

Twelve more guild mates, along with a dizzy Skore, stumbled out of the summoning area behind the throne room and raced to the stables for another mount.

“Get us some cover, Aang,” Skore asked.

Aang lowered his hands and cupped them, summoning the water from the ground and vegetation before the castle. He could see the enemy forces make their slow ascent to the main entrance. Bringing his hands upward in an arch, dagger-sharp crystals of ice thrust forward from the dead, dry ground several yards away from the gates. The summoned ice barrier thrust ten feet high and left a wall of two yards thick for the enemy forces to hack through.

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Bersabrea

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10

Wednesday, November 9th 2016, 5:06am

Aang heaved shuddering breaths, slightly weakened by the spell. “M-Monie to the east entrance. Fortify all of the gates.”

“Don't push yourself, Aang,” Skore threw away the reins of a horse and bounded up to the parapets.

“Masons! Assemble the storm towers at the gates!” Aang shouted.

Daar grinned wide. “Well done, brother! Skore how's it lookin'?”

“Kahnee's forces are coming!” Skore shouted back.

“Ah so he wants to finish us that way?” Daar dismounted and bolted to Skore. “Spread some archers out, Aang, Kanu's starting us off with the casters outright!”

“Siphons and archers to Daar,” Aang ordered. “What's your priority, Daar?”

Two white robed scholars and five soldiers raced to Daar's side, awaiting orders.

“Siphons to the magi,” said Daar. “Skore, find McLou then find that son of a bitch Kanu. We need to flush him out before midnight.”

Knocking an arrow to his bow, Daar aimed for Kahnee's summoning brand at her shoulder. He knew if he could score a direct hit, she would be sent to the summoning grounds of her castle. Closer and closer she rode up the slope, words of power on her lips. The arrow flew true, shattering the sigil and making her disappear. The forces she ran with were all borrowed from Aillic and without a leader, they halted in their steps and headed back to their castle.

Daar laughed triumphantly. “Looks like we-”

His celebration was cut short by a thunderous boom that knocked him to his knees. The darkened sky became blood red and a blue white light erupted from the center field.

Aang could feel his legs buckle beneath him. The sound had also knocked the air out of the priest and he saw Monie grasping onto the onyxian walls, bracing herself from the shock. Aang pulled himself to his feet. “What the-”

“Dammit,” Daar wheezed and groaned. “I hate it when they do that!”

“What's going on?” Aang clung to the walls to steady himself.

“Aillic's intervention. Someone didn't follow the rules for somethin'. Best not to use yer powerful spells for the siege games.”

Aang nodded his head wordlessly.

* * * * *

Lord Kanu's fist dented the long wooden table on impact, “This idiotic tripe is why?!”

The dawn's rays shone in the large stained glass windows of Aillic's fortress in Varanas. Gathered at the head of the emptied banquet table stood several Aillic magi. The gray robed magi hailed from the Siege community. Robes of flaxen yellow were worn by the magi in Varanas.
Magi of the Aillic community in Obsidian Stronghold wore the battle-mage regalia of crimson vestments with runes of protection embedded in fine black silken thread. The leader in front wore the signature vestments of the Dalanis magi: blue and gold trimmed robes. At his breast, a sewn insignia of a fire dragon with a gaping maw shimmered with encrusted gems.

Lord Kanu had been in such a fury that he had been dragged from the siege games to the fortress by two of the battle-magi, his own officers craven from his wrath.

The lead mage looked on with the signature neutral demeanor. “Do not think that your trophies and testament as the leader of the most infamous guild in Artemis will give you immunity from our laws and protocol. The census must have one hundred percent participation.”

Lord Slii hid his mused grin in the palm of his hand. He glanced around the table, slightly marveled at the speed in the other guild leaders' response to the summons.

Jenks, leader of the Silent Justice Guild held a grim expression. His lips were taut in a thin line, and his hands were clasped tightly together. Celi, another of the lower class but high enough in society to own a guild, could barely keep his own excitement. Celi had been a newly christened leader, and was at a very young age to come into power. Lord Slii had a feeling that Celi's guild would crumble soon. And finally two representatives, like Lord Slii himself, sat at the far end, occupying air and space for the leaders of the Candara Guardians Guild and Ganja's Guild.

Another thundering slam by Lord Kanu startled Lord Slii to draw his annoyed attention back to the pouting guild leader.

“Quit yer pissin' and moanin' and just do what they say,” Lord Slii harumphed. “Mergin' don't hurt at all and I even did it myself.”

Lord Kanu shot Lord Slii a venomous glare. “Stay out of this cretin!”

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Bersabrea

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11

Thursday, November 10th 2016, 5:15am

“As much as I want to,” Lord Slii held back his insult as the magi stared at him. “I'm afraid you're stuck with me and yer peers.”

The lead mage stood from his chair, resting his wrinkled hands on the table's polished surface. “Lord Kanu, for disobeying orders to give the Aillic's community a corrected record of your guild's members, you are hereby suspended from the siege games for the remainder of the season and for the following season. Those in favor of this punishment, guild leaders?”

“Aye,” Lord Slii was quick to say.

“Aye,” the representatives said in unison.

“Aye,” said Celi.

“Aye,” said four other guild leaders, their names lost to Lord Slii.

Jenks stayed silent.

“By majority vote of your peers,” the elder mage decreed. “You will have until sunset to take your banner down, and if by that time that the banner still flies, your guild will be fined eighty units of each resource for each day following.”
* * * * *

Aash had been as rambunctious as Max when he'd first seen members of the Bachaeus House strolling about in the village of Logar. Aash had been about as rambunctious as Max on the day he saw members of the Bachaeus House strolling down the main road in the sleepy town of Logar. They were new adventurers and the group totaled two men and a young woman.

The older man turned to his younger companions. "Max, you and her go repair your gear. I'll check the courier and the boards for more quests."

"'Kay," the young woman said excitedly and grabbed Max by the wrist. Together they dashed over to the smith where Aash had been waiting to get his leather gauntlets mended.

"Yer stuff can't take n'more after this round," the smith said to Aash, a brazen child with a mane of unkempt black-brown hair and tattered leather armor. Like the adventurers from the Bachaeus House, Aash too was a new adventurer. The difference was that Aash was not sponsored by a noble house so he had to take anything he could get. He glanced with envy at the two Bachaeus adventurers, knowing that they were well prepared, financially, for anything and began to wonder if he could work on his pickpocketing skill...

"Let's see what we got here," the smith heaved a bundle of weapons that Max handed him. "Some daggers, and a sword. That'll be
twenty for the three."

"I got it Lady," Aash could hear the young man speaking to the woman.

Aash's eyes brightened, 'A Lady,' he thought to himself. 'Then she must be worth-' His thought was interrupted as another woman shoved the one called Lady out of the way.

Lady stumbled into Aash who instinctively caught her in his arms. He may have been a thief but he ironically prided himself as being a gentleman.

"Gods dammit Kaysia!" the smith yelled at the woman who shoved her tattered breastplate, bracers and dented sword on the counter, spilling the Bachaeus's gear to the ground. "I don't care if Lord Kanu is your brother, father, or third cousin, get your ass to the back of the line!"

Kaysia scoffed. "As if these peasants are worth your time! I'm here bringing business to your little shop from one of the greatest guilds in all of Candara and you tell me to get to the back of the line?"

Aash helped Lady to her feet, all while alleviating the young woman of a gold bracelet she wore on her left wrist.

"I'm no peasant!" Lady fumed, her face flushing to match her strawberry locks.

"Come on, Lady," Max grabbed the bundle of weapons. "She isn't worth it."

"Yeah those Fire Kittens are nothing but hot air," Aash added to the conversation.

Aash smiled, touching his right cheek where Kaysia had slapped him long ago. He could still see the small flash of gold on his wrist, and had been surprised the bracelet hadn't been confiscated, but it was proof that their captors just wanted the two alive and unarmed.

"So," Max said in between mouthfuls of gruel. "Where'd you get it from?"

"Oh this? Got it from Lady," Aash smiled. "That day when we first met and I joined your group."

"Heh," Max managed to laugh dryly. "Any regrets?"

"Just that I could give Kaysia the deserved pop in the mouth," said Aash.

Aash and Max finished their rations in silence.

Boots thudded on the stone floor. The swaying lights cast long and dizzying shadows within the crude interrogation room. Aashmire swallowed, nervously steeling himself for what was about to come. He had endured hanging by his wrists upon a crude rack. He survived the grueling dunks into buckets of ice water; beatings; and other inane abuses to extract the whereabouts of one person. The person he looked to as a sister.

“You are a tough one,” a feminine voice purred from the darkness. “But you will succumb. You will confess in time.”

The strong arms that held Aashmire threw him into the dark room. One of the guards guffawed. “He's all yours, Blaize.”

“Gods have mercy on you,” laughed the other.
* * * * *

Lord Slii descended the marble steps to his awaiting comrades: Monie, Aang, McLou, Skore, Vhalhilder, and Skore. He grumbled under his breath, disappointed that his guild leaders were once again absent and that he had to tend to their duties as representative.

“Well?” Skore, the man dressed in crimson vestment raised an interested eyebrow.

“Was it our fault or theirs?” asked McLou, the Shadowforge dwarf, who brought a flask to his lips and took a deep pull of ale.

“The fault was all theirs,” sighed Lord Slii. “The siege ended over a stupid oversight.”

“Whew,” McLou sighed in relief. “Thought that shiner I gave to that ol' Two Hander was reported.”

“You gave a shiner to Two Hander?” laughed Skore. “I'm surprised you could have reached that high.”

“Who said it was his face?” McLou grinned. “He'll be feeling that in his knee in the mornin'.”

Aang laughed with McLou and the others, but his curiosity was piqued as well. “What was the oversight about?”

“I ain't sure exactly,” Lord Slii walked the group to two hitched horses, a hippogryph, a large black mountain goat, and two riding tigers. He grabbed the reins to his horse and contiued. “Somethin' about not keeping updated records of their members.”

Aang shrugged as he too unhitched his dapple gray horse.

“Need anything from us?” McLou mounted his riding goat and looked to Lord
Slii.

“How should I know? I ain't Dubh,” Lord Slii couldn't hide the annoyance in his voice. He sighed once more, thinking for a moment. “I guess head back to your forges McLou and wait for another shipment from me. Skore and Vhal, you guys figure out where all of the leather and lumber went during seige. We barely had enough for siege equipment and we need to be ready for the next go around. As for you Monie, if you ain't busy, we need your help in Obsidian Stronghold.”

“To be clear, I shipped out all my bolts of leather last night,” Skore pat his riding tiger before sliding onto the saddle. “They should be arriving by sunset.”

“I see,” Lord Slii mulled over the news, wondering if he should lecture Skore on being more timely with his shipments, but then dismissed the thought. “Well, 'til next siege then, unless you all are plannin' on raidin' somethin' tonight?”

“Maybe tomorrow we'll travel to the Grotto of Horror,” Monie suggested. “As for coming with you to the Stronghold, I'd be glad to go with you.”

“Sounds good,” waved McLou before going toward the fountain in the center of Varanas Central Plaza. Skore and Vhal went separate ways, Skore went to the auction house and Vhal was looking to leave the city entirely.

Lord Slii, Aang and Monie followed Vhal to the portal where a scruffy little doglike humanoid scratched his rump and looked around, skiddish of all the adventurers pooling around him. Adventurers of every shape, size, race and gender were either entering or exiting from his shiny yellow portal. None really knew why the little dogman was there and even more so, how he seemed to have copies of himself at every portal in all of Candara and even all of Taborea. None questioned the matter, and none were truly interested.

“To Obsidian Stronghold,” Monie, Aang and Lord Slii said in unison to the portal.

The dogman waved them through, though they were oblivious to his presence.

The yellow shimmering veil parted to reveal the sun baked lands of the Dust Devil Canyon. And yawning before them, were the gates to the Obsidian Stronghold.

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Runes of Magic US / AU

The Dark Tower Guild (Runes of Magic Fanfiction)

The Dark Tower Guild (Runes of Magic Fanfiction)

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