Arena Event. Part 2. Small Village.

Torin staggered along the road, with each step bright red traceries of pain coursed through him. He leaned on his staff, his breath coming raggedly, what little sight he had wavering in and out. Thoughts whirled through his head, distant memories fluttering before his eyes. His right arm didn't move anymore, and he could feel blood trickling down it. Breathing hurt and some distant part of him realized his ribs were broken. Each step was an eternal agony, and in truth he could no longer remember where he was or where he was going. He only knew that if he stopped he would never get up again.
Distantly he heard noises behind him, he could not tell if they were near or far, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he keep walking.
Another step.
The road was smooth under his feet. Funny the little things you notice when your near death he thought.
Perhaps a village was near? Maybe he could stop walking at the village.
Another step.
More noise from behind, louder this time. Unimportant.
Another step.
He could hear horses behind him, and men talking.
He tried to take another step, but his leg bent to walk and kept right on bending. His staff lurched out from under him and everything went peaceful.
Before he could even see the ground, the darkness boiled up before him.
With a dull THUD his body hit the ground, but his mind was already gone.
In the distance a string of horses and men approached. In the other direction a small but bustling village, lived on, unaware of what was approaching it.

"Bah, nothing 'round here is even worth scouting for!"

Kassan sighed heavily and continued up the road away from the caravan.

"The only thing 'round here that could cause any sight 'o trouble is the bears, and it don't happen to be mating season."

Then he saw something on the road, a waylayed coat? no. As he drew closer the shape formed into a collapsed man, at a distance he appeared quite thoroughly dead, but on closer inspection there was a pulse. Kassan rifled through the man's pockets finding a managerie of daggers and knives, all of which he pocketed. Then proceeded to sling the man over his shoulder and start carrying him back along the road towards the caravan.

"I had better get a bonus for this."

"A man found nearly dead on the road?"

The guard merely nodded in confirmation to Ashas.

"One of the front mercenary scouts found him. He looked like he went through a battle himself."

Ashas quickly turned around, waving his arm to catch the attention of the mages still inside the wagon. Of them, Golspar and Sovin were already screening some of the mercenaries, keeping careful watch. Ulman and Fayru, his two subordinates dressed in white like himself, stepped out from inside the extravagant wagon, both with their hoods down.

Ulman appeared to be a man in his middle years, the brown scruff of hair completely outlining his face. Fayru's black hair, on the other hand, was long and majestic, spilling out on top of her lax hood and down the back of the clock. She had the utmost determination to be of aid to Ashas, while Ulman appeared as if he had recently woken up. Behind them, the two yellow-robed mages followed suit, flanking either side of Ulman.

Ashas led the party of five towards one of the wagons the guard reported to have the wounded.

Upon seeing him, Ashas climbed into the wagon and crouched at his side, frowning deeply. He motioned for Fayru to join him, who complied quickly.

"Fayru, I want you to tend to this man's wounds until told otherwise."

Ashas turned towards Ulman as Fayru dutifully removed as much of the man's clothing as neccessary to access the grievous wounds, ripping them if needed.

"Ulman, have those two find the medical wagon, and bring supplies here. We'll soon be with a mage who can regenerate limbs, but until then we are left without anyone who can heal."

Ulman simply nodded, and the two behind him dispersed to comply with Ashas's request.

"Have yourself go and retrieve one of the Waters. Their aid will be needed as well."

"Any more requests? You know how I loathe to be ordered as if a sheep."

Ashas simply smiled at him.

"You'll be able to meet Sazil in person soon, and you'll have a complete leave of duty. Just deal with it until then, alright?"

Ulman snorted, although mostly in frustration of defeat rather than in contempt. He turned and walked back towards the wagon, hoping to meet Vixi or Traistyn beforehand.

Ashas turned once more, and paused before smiling at Fayru, who paid him no attention. She focused completely on the task, and was already cleaning his wounds with the cloth torn off the man's clothes and from discarded garments in the wagon during his conversation. He patted and rubbed her back in approval.

"Keep him alive until we see Sazil. We can leave whatever nurses we hired for the others, but I want you in particular charge of this one. If there are bandits and assassins about, he may have information of them."

Ashas noticed Fayru pause, and looked down to see a metal plate sewn into the man's shirt with a symbolic inscription. He nudged her slightly for her to continue.

"A man who could survive under such wounds and appear to use advanced runes..."

Ashas paused for a moment in thought.

"If he wakes, alert me immediately."

He patted her back once, then hopped from the wagon, leaving his pupil to do all that he required her to do before going to see if Ulman had gotten the two water mages yet.

Fayru smiled, content that she could serve the one who had raised her since she was a young girl. Yes, she thought as she wrapped cloth bandages around the wounds, ... for Ashas... anything.


Ashas noticed one of the two yellow-robed mages, and a thought occured to him. He waved to the light mage, hailing him for a second.

"Find the mercenary who brought that man in. I'd like to see him for a moment."

He nodded to Ashas, and went to carry on his task. Ashas carried on towards the wagon.

Since his delivery of the collapsed man, Kassan had thoroughly mulled over the bounty from the man's pockets. Most of them seemed to have a faint feeling of foreboding upon them, like they were of greater power. But one particularly interested Kas, this one seemed especially sharp, and showed few signs of wear in the normal sense, it immediately went into the back of his left boot for safekeeping. Then a mage clad in yellow appeared.

"Ey, wot do ye want with me?"

The man explained that one of the more powerful mages, Ashas, had requested his presence, and began leading Kassan down the line of wagons.

"I wonder what this Ashas could want with me."

After finding Vixi on her way to the medical wagon, Ashas found himself in front of the mercenary with Ulman on his left and Masil, the brown-robed mage, on his right. The three of them looked the mercenary over carefully.

"So... you're the one who rescued that man. What is your name and your role?"

Kassan stared at the man, a sense of awe permeated his being.

"My name be Kassan, or Crass if ye prefer. I been scouting ahead, lookin out fer trouble. If this be about that man I brought back, dyin' I didn't have nothin' to do with it, I just found 'im layin' there."

Kassan felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Masil kept his face hidden from the mercenary but stared under the edge of the hood at him. Ulman paid little attention to the mercenary, and seemed deep in thought.

"I see..."

Ashas thought for a moment.

"Is there anything else you observed about him?"

"Well... when I found 'im there in a pool of 'is own blood, I also found a good number of weapons, daggers specifically. They look like they were once magic'd up, 'an I did'nt want him hurtin' himself or others. They be no use to me, I prefer me crossbow."

Kassan rifled through many places on his person, pulling out a half-a-dozen daggers or so, while leaving the one he had picked out for himself in the back of his boot.

"That be all I found on 'im, I think I mighta seen a staff or somesuch in the dirt, but I cannae remember, I only found him just a bit farther up the road though, so you could prolly find it ifn' you were to search for it proper."

The air was cool, the clouds were peaceful. Flying always excited Ursong. Peering down below he saw a small settlement.
"We haven't slept in a bed in many a year Winion, I think it's high time we take a small luxury for ourselves." murmured Ursong. Winion replied with a shift of his eyes. The dim glow of his belt flickered, a sure sign it would soon light up.
Finding a remote place about a 200 meters from the settlement, Winion's fluttering wings came to a halt, gently lowering Ursong to the ground.
" Sai," whispered Ursong. With a flash Winion became his little self. Perching on Ursong's shoulder he quickly to dozed off.
Ursong started walking to work out the kinks in his legs before breaking into a faster pace. Hearing man-noises and glimpsing people up ahead he decided to investigate.

Orton fumed. He dimly recognized that this was becoming more and more of a common activity for him of late, but damn it if he didn't have reason. He had just heard of the mages taking up an injured man on the side of the road, and already he was hearing rumors of a peculiar little man in strange garb taking up with the guards in the rear of the caravan. He supposed that now the mages would want to take in every damn stray they came across! They woul-no. No, he wasn't going to distract himself like this.
He was upset about the injured man true, and if the rumors about the peculiar little man following them were true he would be upset about that too, though at least he could yell at the caravan guards for that one, but what was really banking his anger, his frustration was the road ahead, or rather, the lack thereof. The Levinarelle River was swift and deep, especially here at the foot of the mountains. Crossing it unaided was simply inviting disaster, to that end he had arranged with the largest ferry to ship each wagon across, up to two wagons per trip.
That was how it supposed to be at least. In truth he had just returned from talking to the river captain. It seemed the recent snow melt and a series of storms had lashed the already swift river into a frenzy of churning white water. The captain had refused to cross for any price until the river calmed. In two or three days. Three days! The light have mercy, one day would be bad enough, caravan men with no caravan to run quickly got rowdy and fights would break out. Three days, and with a bunch of armed and armored budding alcoholics to boot.
He sighed, and the tension left his shoulders. There was no help for it now, he would circle the wagons beside the village that sat on the ferry crossing. Let the mages do as they pleased with injured man, and if there really was a straggler tagging along let him come. Maybe he could entertain the mercenaries by dancing for his dinner. He would certainly receive none from the caravan's rough and ready mess tent. He gave his orders, and resigned himself to not making a profit on this trip.

Ashas looked the man over once more while Masil reached out and took the daggers, inspecting them carefully.

"Alright... Thank you for your services. And for a reward..."

With that, Ashas took a small purse of gold and handed it to Crass.

"There. I'm sure you have duties to attend to."

Ulman sighed, tired, and walked back into the cabin.

Aerywyn motioned for Acria to stop, waving a leaf he had been twirling absentmindedly at her. A sudden wave of focus came over him as he held his nose high in the air, as if sniffing the wind itself for signs of the hunt. Abruptly he then sat down on a mossy rock, scowling as he almost spat the words out.

"Gods and old men... can you smell them?", he said to Acria. "Mages or priests; they're both reek the same."

The great, silver bastard sword was now out of it's scabbard and in his hands. From the shadows eyes could be seen, dull rusted blades hidden in the foliage.

"Now tell me more about this mage you want..."

Acria stopped abruptly at his sign.

She was weak and weary from the long absence of rest, unused to covering such ground following this... possessed warrior... she had nearly grown accustomed to. Yet words and images flowed through her mind...

With every passing minute she heard Jericho's soft, wise words, the few hate-filled remarks she heard from Sazil at the end of her world, and the horde of screams and deathly sounds that her victims emitted. Finally, there was her own voice to herself, filling her with pure determination, the kind that would have her stand against a tide of unspeakable doom... stand and fight until the last essences of her strength and power left her weak body. All for vengeance.

It was then, behind this ranger, a man who grew more mysterious as time went on to her, who was then even -sniffing- at the air like some hound, that her mind was cleared.

As he sat, he spoke of mages nearby. If he said anything else, Acria did not hear. Mages were all she was interested in at the moment.

However, he did mention Sazil, the very name stirring power within her, seeking to slaughter the man in question.

"He is the brother and killer of my Master. He usually isn't alone, and is quite powerful... and unpredictable."

But that doesn't matter... he will die.

Ursong had been trailing the caravan for some time now. With his investigations the caravan guards seemed to be aware of him but didn't put much thought about it. The mages clearly lend the caravan and were heading toward something.
Taking all the courage in him he swiftly marched towards the caravan and storming towards where the mages held council and did other matters.

"I am here about a certain job, will you care to take me along?" said Ursong but the instant he said it he knew something would happen.

Ashas and Masil turned towards the newcomer, surprised that no one would attempt to stop him.

After realizing that the man wouldn't pose a threat, not much of one anyway, Ashas contemplated the question for a moment. He looked him over, trying to decide what this man's intentions were.

"Hmm... And who may you be?"

Ursong replied "I am Ursong Windfeather Wave of The Wandering Winds, i am a pact summoner who specializes in wind magic. I have come because i heard a caravan with a man called Sazil was here. He has a certain item I seek and I wish to bargain for it."

Immediately pulling up his sleeve showing everyone the black symbols on his arm.Pointing with his finger to one particular symbol he showed it to the two mages.

"This marking will be on the artifact I seek."

Both Ashas and Masil stepped forward, for two different reasons, to challenge this newcomer. Ashas stared him down, the emotional display on his face swiftly changing to that of anger.

"What makes you think that -you- can make any requests of him?"

Masil planted a hand quickly on his shoulder, and Ashas's calm returned to him. He grunted for a second, the last of the anger passing him.

"And what makes you think that he has this object you speak? Not many know what lies in Sazil's treasure trove."

"I did not make a request i asked for a job. If anything I'll gladly let you use my services for free. "
He sat crossed legged on the floor.
"I have heard rumors many repeating the same item many times. My master has also directed me to Sazil. If the item I seek is not here, then there is something of equal value."

He looked sternly at the two men praying they would not interfere in his quest.

Ashas quickly considered the situation.

We've already lost guards and potential mercenaries... If he does proove decietful, he can be dealt with quickly...

"... Very well then... You may accompany us. However, Sazil is not here. We are travelling towards him. If you prove to be of enough use..."

He chose this moment to grin.

"... then I will request that Sazil give you audience. Agreed?"

Seeing something past the mage's smile Ursong grinned.

"Agreed."

Moving his hand forward for a handshake.
Winion started to buzz softly awake from his nap

Quicking an eyebrow at the creature on his shoulder, he shook the man's hand.

"You'll find an older man in red robes around here. He is in charge of the mercenaries about the caravan. Tell him you were recieved by Ashas and Masil. He will give you your orders."

Aerywyn nodded. He needed time then to organise a plan, and now was not the best time to launch an attack. He signalled for the men to scout, his command already known to them.

Search the area. Look for sites to ambush and learn the lay of the land.

First however, he finally realised the incredible emptiness in his stomach. They had marched for days and at times he had to carry Acria when she could not go any further. Aerywyn decided that it would be a good idea to head into the town... they were after all the only two who would be able to gather information without raising too much suspicion.

Aerywyn looked Acria over, and the himself.

He grinned, realising that the two of them would seem a little more than 'suspicous'.

"Acria, listen close. We are heading into the town. I want you to restrain yourself...". He took hold of her by the arms and leant in close, his voice brimming with command. "Do not kill anyone yet. If anyone asks you are a priestess of the Tirudai... that should be enough".

He hoped it would be. People knew the Tirudai, and feared them as a necessary evil. Their priestesses were revered at the same time, for the Tirudai were once heroes of this land in particular... Aerywyn himself was one of them, and his brother Belial another, although he goes under another name nowadays.

"Come, let us be off".

Orton breathed a sigh of relief. The wagons had reached the village and were already forming a circle beside it, the mages' wagons forming a smaller circle inside. People were bustling about busy setting up camp, while a few of the more intrepid villagers were hawking their goods in the camp. Cries for help with the lines washed over and were in urn washed over by men announcing their wares.

The little man in odd clothes had turned out not to be a rumor after all, he had shown up in front of Orton sputtering about taking a job, it was clear he meant mercenary work but Orton had almost assigned him to cleaning up after the horses just to chase the blighter away. As it stood he had just put the man off, telling him to come find him after camp was set up.

He honestly didn't know what to do, this trip was supposed to be non-stop, and now they were stuck by a river. It would not, he knew, seem like a problem to one who hadn't seen it before but this was far from his first trip. A caravan had many jobs that were only done on the move, and at the end of the day most were so exhausted they took straight to their blankets. Now may of thee men would have nothing to do, a first they would just laze around, maybe sleep in, but sooner or later they would grow bored, then to entertain themselves....he shuddered. He had once seen mercenaries start duels to entertain themselves, of course there were accidents, and the offended parties reacted violently, which resulted in more accidents. It had only taken five days for a caravan to practically tear itself apart, near awash in blood. That had been in a different place and time. It would not happen here, but even so just a few fight could cause terrible damage.

He did what he could to make sure nothing would happen. He forbid access to the wine and beer in the caravan. Anyone who wished some would have to go to the large inn the village boasted. Weapons were to remained sheathed at all times, anyone bearing a naked blade was out without his pay. He assigned sleeping locations, grouping mercenaries only with those other mercenaries they had been assigned with, even if they hated each other, at least they should be used to each other by now. He thought briefly of the injured man they had found by the road, and the surety that whatever he did there would be at least a handful of black eyes by tomorrow night, and probably a few broken bones. There was no sense in using up their own supplies when surely the village had some, though he doubted they would be on sale in some store, whoever had them probably had them as a private stock. Acquiring them would be a perfect exercise to keep a few likely trouble makers out of trouble tomorrow.

He sent out his orders, instructing the runners to send out the yellow eyed man, the man missing two fingers on his left hand and the horse handler with a birthmark on his neck looking for medical supplies.
The first he thought a drunk, the second supposedly liked to cheat gambling, that would be enough to start a dozen fights, the last he knew simply had a short temper.

He glanced at the setting sun. Yes, all of it would be taken care of. But not until tomorrow.
He set off into the camp, seeing if he could manage to avoid the little man in orange.

Were it not for the length of time that Acria had travelled with Aerywyn, for his efforts to care for her, she would have simply impaled his hands through her robes and slaughter him with ease, another soul to add to her menagerie. However, she found her reaction much unlike herself. The unbridled anger and complete lack of caring were not present in her at the moment. To think that this man could order her, restrict her from her goals, restrain her hand with simple words... it was evidence enough for her to start conviction against herself.

She looked up at him with her glowing, icy eyes and sighed, letting her emotions drain from her body through the expulsion of air. She drew up her hand towards her face, the folds of her black and silver robe sliding down her arm. Her gaze drifted down from him to her pale fingers, nearly comparable to the nightly moon. Briefly, she blew into her hand, and a small ice dagger formed between her fingers. She properly gripped it, and began to play with the blade with her touch, testing it's sharpness.

"Then tell me... Aerywyn... why we can't just rid the town of it's populace, get what we need, and be on our way..?"

She looked back at him, watching his features for a response, with words or actions.

It certainly hasn't stopped me before...

She suddenly let out a slight hiss, and quickly darted her eyes back to her finger. A single drop of blood slipped from the shallow cut, her dagger with a splatter of red.

Perhaps I need more rest... I'm growing weary simply controlling my own powers...

Torin drifted. He wasn't sure where he was, but it was dark and cool and still. everything felt...fuzzy. Like a distant dream. there were soft noises in the distance, broken and soft, he couldn't make sense of them, but he didn't much care. For a while he simply existed. It was enough.

Then there was pain.

Torin's sightless eyes snapped open, more sightless than usual, someone had put a cloth over his eyes, breath rushed through his teeth in a sharp hiss. Someone had also apparently just shoved a red-hot iron bar into his right side. It was all he could do not to move, he was no medic, but he had seen enough injuries to know moving was most likely a bad idea.

Broken ribs, broken arm, I know my leg was hurt but I can't seem to feel it...

Using his good hand and arm he gently felt along his rib cage. Someone had bandaged him up and splinted his other arm. Judging by some of the damper spots they either had shaky hands, or, much more likely all things considered he had been bleeding pretty heavily.
Maybe he still was.
His head still felt a little muzzy
Herbs for pain?

He tried to speak. All that came out was a croaking sound. Swallowing and licking his lips he tried again. This time it was a little better.

"G-goran?" (In his native tongue: "H-hello?")
He was shocked at his own voice, dry and raspy it sounded more like a death rattle than a word.
Regardless he couldn't do more than wait for an answer. He didn't have the energy.