Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived The Northern Frontier

Script

Adorable Homewrecker
Benefactor
as written by Script

The stone of the building's wall was cool against Kieran's back, a refreshing contrast to the clammy heat of exertion. His breathing was heavy, and his body protested the small gash in his side with his chest's every contraction. The alleyway provided cover, but it wouldn't for long. He could already hear the outlaws' footsteps circling around in the street to get a better angle.

There were half a dozen of them in total. More than enough to pose a serious threat, even though the majority of them were far from skillful.

A splash of blood dripped from the end of his sword into the mud below.

Five of them in total, he corrected himself. Still not good odds. And there was no telling whether they'd have more friends rounding the corner at any moment.

He took a moment to consider the series of poor decisions that had led him to this moment of potential demise. Had his first mistake been to venture out into the frontier at all? Probably. But perhaps the more recent, pertinent mistake had been to allow his tongue to dance a little too freely when dealing with the man who was, ostensibly, the 'Big Cheese' of Taldasin.

Taldasin. A grand name for a town that amounted to a large collection of vagrants all squatting in the same ruin, but Kieran supposed it hadn't always been that way. Indeed, some of the larger ruined structures spoke of a relatively grand past. Kieran couldn't begin to guess at exactly what that past had been, of course. He'd never paid much attention in history classes. Too busy making eyes at that redheaded elven boy... what had been his name?

The sharp clatter of a crossbow bolt against the wall inches away from his face reminded Kieran that now was not the time to be reminiscing upon past flames. Now was the time to be creating new ones. Rather more literally.

Taking a deep breath, he muttered a few arcane phrases under his breath, and just as he heard the crank of the crossbowman's weapon click into place, a flash of light surrounded him, and he dashed from the alleyway.

More accurately, four of him dashed from the alleyway. Kieran's illusory copies moved with him, mirroring his movements as he swept his eyes over the street. Four men in the road, one perched atop the ruins of a building opposite. It had been that one which had almost had a good enough angle on him to shoot him. The outlaws in the street seemed taken aback by his doubles.

He smiled. There weren't that many mages out here. It was one of his two favourite surprises.

Without giving them a chance to recover, he darted forwards. His blade lashed out, striking for the chest of one of the men, who barely brought his cudgel up in time to deflect it. The man adjacent to him reacted in much the same fashion, but his block met no resistance as one of Kieran's clones struck through it, throwing him off balance.

In a flowing motion, Kieran wove to the side and struck in underneath the man's armpit with a precise thrust, driving the blade deep into his body. He darted back quickly to avoid retribution from the man's companions as he collapsed. The other three began to advance warily upon him, watching his images warily to try and pick him out amongst them.

Thwack.

A crossbow bolt whistled through the neck of one of the clones and struck the foot of a second, embedding itself in the dirt of the road. He really had to do something about that one before he got lucky. Unfortunately, the man's failed shot had allowed his companions on the ground to eliminate two of Kieran's illusions as options.

Splitting into pairs, they advanced on him and the third image.

He smirked. These men really didn't know how to fight a spellcaster. You never stood bunched up like that. Lowering his blade, Kieran raised his free hand and murmured another spell.

A gout of fire shot forth from his palm, washing over all four of the men. The flames licked at their flesh and clothing with ferocious intensity, and their screams echoed through the street. Kieran's smirk faded. He still wasn't used to the screams of the dying.

It was a cruel jerk back to reality, even as the adrenaline continued to pump through him. Two of the men lay still on the floor, those that had been closest to him. The others writhed, scrambling to get away from him. He didn't stop them.

His illusions faded, leaving him standing alone in the street with a grimace.

Click.

Above, the crossbowman's crank once more finished winding its payload. He raised the weapon, as Kieran turned with a curse. His finger was on the trigger ...
 
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as written by Krysis and Script

"Oi! Pick on someone yer own size!" Conlaoch had flown up on the other side of the ruin, zipping along with a buzz of his dry, narrow wings. He barreled into the middle of the crossbow man when the awkwardly placed ruffian tried to turn to face the new threat. A threat that had deliberately called out to get his attention. Then turned out to be a small brown man with three red glowing eyes. Well, two eyes and a pipe, but they all glowed the same color so it wasn't unexpected for there to be some confusion on that point.

His shoulder would impact the crossbow man first, and then Conlaoch gave a startled yell as two things happened. First, the crossbow very naturally went off. It tore the last few inches of one transparent wing, not badly enough to keep Conlaoch from flying but enough to pain him. Second, the man grabbed hold of his belt, so both human and Sylvaen came tumbling from the perch on the broken wall.

The little brown man would end up on top, and a fierce pummeling would commence, mostly involving Conlaoch yelling and punching while the crossbow man flailed ineffectually with his ranged weapon that was nigh useless in melee combat.

It helped that Conlaoch was used to falling from such a height (as a awkwardly shaped winged creature must be) and knew how to land without boggling himself. This was a thing that very few humans had any skill with, and so the man had landed badly, flat on his back, hard to enough to force all the air from his lungs and thoughts from his head.

The small man took full advantage of that fact, not bothering with any sort of weapon beyond his own hard little fists until the human was unconscious. And thoroughly battered. And maybe a bit bloodied. But still breathing.

Pleased with his work, if uninterrupted until that point, Conlaoch got up like there were springs in his legs. He looked around, grinning a dare to any that might want their own helping of the same treatment.

Like anyone would be deterred from making trouble for the five foot (and two inches!) of fae folk just from seeing how straight and white his teeth were, clamped around the stem of a pipe (which was still lit, miraculously enough).

____

Kieran blinked, his hand stopping halfway through a spellcast as a bundle of wings and violence barrelled into the outlaw, sending them both toppling from the perch. He stood and stared, mouth slightly agape, as the sylvae drove his fists repeatedly into the man beneath him until he lay still.

"Well," the young swordsman began, stepping over to where Conlaoch stood, "I can safely say that neither I," he gestured at the fallen man, "nor he, were expecting that. Uh, thank you. I don't know if I'd have been able to get a shield up in time if you hadn't stepped... or I guess flown in."

The youth glanced back at the centre of the street, where the two men who had survived his flames were beating a hasty retreat into an alleyway. He tried to avoid looking at the bodies. Aside from them, the street was bare. Passersby had quickly made themselves absent when the fight had broken out. He momentarily grimaced, thoughts lingering on the likelihood of the two escapees coming back to make trouble for him, but he hadn't the heart to pursue them. He hadn't wanted to fight in the first place.

After a few moments of thought, he turned back to face Conlaoch. "My name is Kieran," he said, extending a hand in greeting.

____

Conlaoch started to extend his hand to shake Kieran's, but then laughed and shook his head, swishing his thin black hair back and forth with the movement. He massaged his hands against each other as he answered. "It's good to meet ya, Kieran, but it seems I need to stretch these things first. I don't usually go at a man with my fists. Granted his head weren't as hard as some heads I've smashed, but this wasn't exactly planned out in advance, so I didn't put on gloves or whatnot. Would have gone quicker if I had.'

"Conlaoch is the name. You might call me Conal, if that is easier on your tongue. And I'd take it as a kindness if you'd put away that overgrown carving knife. It's a fine thing to be sure, but such magic makes a man nervous."

The short man buzzed his wings briefly before folding them down and back, out of the way, as he looked at the remaining bodies and gave a low, amazed whistle. Being a very practical sort, he'd nudge the nearer body over with his foot, probably looking for anything salvageable among the man's possessions.

"Mayhap I was wrong, and they were picking on someone too big for them. What has my temper got me into this time, lad?"

____

"Ah, yeah," Kieran slipped his sword away into its sheath. "Sorry. I forget I'm holding it, half the time."

He sighed in response to the second question, "Only the same trouble my tongue created. Sometimes I wish I looked more intimidating, that folk like this wouldn't take me for an easy victim. I was looking for information, and got a tad carried away with a little verbal spar. Apparently, this group of unfortunates aren't used to people talking back."

Kieran glanced down at his rather stand-out attire. Even after a few weeks on the frontier wearing them down, it was still obvious enough that his clothes belonged to someone from the city who had money to spare. "Or maybe they're just not used to city fops being able to fight back."

____

Conlaoch considered Kieran's clothes, walking around him in a circle if the boy let him. "I see. I see. Well then, let's get you out of those clothes and a bit dirty. You look like yer going courting, not drinking or chewing the fat. No wonder the working man dinn't trust you, must less a scoundrel like those poor fools laying there." He'd even tug at the cloth of Kieran's shirt, testing the weight and worth of the material if the young man allowed him such familiarity. Thankfully, the man wasn't too much taller than Conlaoch, so it wouldn't be hard for him to assess what needed doing.

Conal's pipe was fragrant and smoke rose freely as he rubbed his chin and considered things, "I left my pack on the other side of that heap of rocks. Had to just drop it in order to get after that fella fast enough. Been a' tailoring all day so I am sure I have something in the scrap bag that will fit ye. Or can be altered to suit. Get some dirt on your face and a different hat and folks won't even know ya."

Then he muttered something like, "Picking up another damn stray, what is the matter with me? I'm supposed to be learning human's ways, not raising 'em like pups and kits. Rather be forging, or sewing, or even cobbling, but no, I'm babysitting." as he backed off and turned to head to where he left his gear.

____

"I... I'm sorry?" Kieran's eyebrows shot up at Conlaoch's initial statement. When the sylvae man went on, and it became apparent that the double entendre had gone over his head, he simply chuckled and let the misinterpretation slide.

He followed after the strange man, frowning faintly, "Ah, it's quite alright. I don't need babysitting. I'm sure I can lay my hands on some new clothes." If he was honest, when he first arrived he'd quite enjoyed the idea that he might be underestimated for his attire. Indeed, it was still often advantageous to surprise his foes in a fight.

He'd quickly come to realise, however, that the idea of teaching some outlaws a lesson was a lot more enjoyable than the reality of it. In his mind, he'd always sent them scurrying away with their tails between their legs. Not dead on the floor, a mark of his inexperience with fighting outside of a duelling arena. It was easy to - if not forget, then to lack appreciation for - the fact that spells that would have washed off of an opponent's shield back at the Academy would leave the average man a charred mess on the floor.

"I do feel I owe you a debt for saving my life, though," Kieran went on as he followed, "I won't be staying in town for long. I've a target to pursue. But is there anything I can do for you as thanks?"

____

"Ye almost got killed on yer first day here, Kieran. And you became a murderer." Conlaoch answered him almost gently, giving the human boy a pitying look. "It was the first time you opened yer mouth, if I am understanding yer story correctly. I say you need a keeper."

Then he brightened up at the thought of being repaid before he shook off the offer, "So let's keep ya alive until dawn, and we'll call it square. Tomorrow, you find yourself a friend that knows the ropes and won't slit yer throat in yer sleep. I'll go on to the next wide place in the road, to ply trade where I can find work for a wandering tinker. It's amazing how many people give me business just because they think it is funny to see something so small do so many things."

At about that time, Conlaoch was picking up a sack full of cloth and slinging an over-sized pack over his shoulder with a 'clank' of tools and rattle of various bits of metal. On the outside of the pack was strapped a portable anvil, which was flat and vaguely shoe shaped, with one end rising in a point and a square slot in the other end. "If ye really want to repay me, let me have that hat ya have now. It's a fine bit of fluff and I want to see how they stitched it."

____

"Not quite my first day," Kieran noted, "And er, not the first people I've killed. I've been here a few weeks. I thought I was doing quite well."

He paused.

"Apart from the dead people. But I'm given to believe that's par for the course. In any case!" He seemed to remember himself, frowning indignantly. "I can't afford to be waiting around an entire night. I'm pursuing someone. Perhaps you might be able to point me in the right direction. That was what I was questioning those other folk about before ... things got out of hand."

He shook his head, briefly halting in his speech to raise an eyebrow at the clanking of the backpack. "He's a dangerous killer, even by the standards of these parts. He left an entire town shrivelled husks, and has been claiming victims across the frontier from New Venture to Ellesmar. There were two dead on the edge of town here, sentries. He's been described as inhumanly bloated and constantly flushed, draped in rags. Carries a curved and wicked looking knife with a ruby in the pommel." The way Kieran spoke gave the impression that he'd rattled off the description before.

"I've been told there's also a dark-haired woman with a bladed staff looking for him," he frowned, "But I intend to be the one to claim his bounty. Does the description ah, ring any bells?"

____

"Oh, sure. Doing quite well. You haven't lost any limbs yet." Conlaoch answered with a roll of his strange, dark eyes as he bent over his rag bag. He reeled back for a moment when the smell of unwashed laundry hit him, but then held his breath to go digging for something whole enough to be used. It was better to do the sorting out in the open air, but eventually he would pull out an old shirt that just had one tear (with bloodstain) in the back, and a matching jacket of a somewhat disreputable nature. They were both big enough to near swallow Kieran, but that would be easily fixed.

"So yer after the void touched monster. No one has claimed to actually have seen a bloated thing like that. At leastwise not in my hearing, but the dead sentries were the talk of the village the day after it happened. Dead ruffians are one thing, but dead soldiers are worth a pint or two to wag yer jaw over." Conlaoch held up the dirty clothes between himself and Kieran, then gave a nod of satisfaction.

Then he would stump into the nearest gap in the ruins behind them, stomping to make sure the floor was solid enough to support them so they could talk out of sight of the main road. "Come on, lad. Let's get you into something less flouncy. If ya look as dangerous as you are, maybe yer sword can stay in its scabbard for a day. Like that lady you were talking about. She looks like she's trouble, so the thieves and head thumpers leave her alone, and she is off hunting somewhere instead of being ambushed in the street. You could take a lesson or two from her example, instead of competing for a bounty that might chew up the both of ya together anyway."

Conlaoch pulled a lantern from his pack, shook it to make sure there was oil in it, then handed it, unlit, to Kieran while he dug out the tailoring kit and a fresh spool of thread.

____

Kieran sighed, apparently accepting his fate of being redressed by a small stranger. Stranger things had probably happened, he supposed. When the lantern was handed to him, he placed his hand beside it and with a small gesture and muttered word, a lick of flame danced forth from his fingertips, lighting the oil.

"Yes, the Leech. Or at least that's what they called him ... it, in the last town. I'm confident I can deal with it. But the woman's been through here too? Do you know what direction she went? I have a feeling she' probably gotten further in her investigation than I have... Best chance I have of catching up is to follow her."

____

"Now why would you want to do a damn fool thing like that? You think that this Leech thing has left? Why would it leave when there is plenty of fresh meat right here?" Conlaoch shook his head impatiently as he threaded a needle and plopped down on the floor to start sewing. He didn't bother to measure Kieran, figuring it was better to give him clothes that were too big so he could wear them over his other things.

"If you really want to track her, I'll help ya, but I would wager that she'll be coming back here soon enough. Supplies for her and that leech thing are both right here, and the next wide place in the road to the north is even less of a village than this one is." He shook out the jacket after just a quick repair on the tear in the back, and then started working on the shirt, which would get a whole seam down the back so it wouldn't be so bulky under the jacket, as well as the tear being sewn up.

"Getting ya past those blokes' friends will be the tough part, if yer sure you want to leave tonight. You know they'll be looking fer ya. So why don't you smear a bit of that soot on yer face and dig out some more rags to put around yer scabbard, so it don't look so fancy. Walking with me will help 'cause they'll be looking for you to be alone, but not if those two gave their friends something so distinctive to look fer." Conlaoch pointed out, stabbing the points with the tip of his needle between stitches.

____

"Maybe it knows it's being chased," Kieran mused, shaking his head. "In any case, I doubt it's very good at hiding. If it was still here, we'd probably know. Probably."

Sighing, he crouched down and began to work at making himself look less presentable. It was extremely counter-intuitive. And unpleasant. Still, he didn't have to work too hard. Whilst far from the mess that some people looked out here, baths were few and far between beyond the city walls. He already looked fairly bedraggled, albeit his magic had helped keep him passable.

And now he looked like a wreck. Fantastic. Maybe this line of work wasn't for him. Or maybe he just needed to get to grips with reality. He'd hated the politics and ponce of the city. This was ... less intolerable, by a small margin.

"I should like to have a word with this woman, even if you're right. Lay down some ground rules. Mutual respect and all that." He coughed, "If she doesn't stab me on sight, that is. One can only hope."

____

"You thought you'd be a fancy hero from a story, didn't ya." Conlaoch grinned up at Kieran before biting the last bit of thread to sever it from the needle. The needle and thread would be put back in the pack before the little man even tried to get up.

"The look on yer face! Haven't ya ever got yer hands dirty before this, Kieran? Or did you hear the stories and think that you'd ride out on a white steed, slay the monster and get yerself a princess in the bargain? I think that lass is far more likely to be setting rules fer you, than the other way around. She seems like the sort that has been doing dangerous things most of her life." Conlaoch laughed, but not unkindly. He didn't seem to realize he might be insulting in his manners. The fae-kin thought of himself as an old man (though his face and body did not show years like a humans did), and so entitled to give advice and laugh at the follies of the young.

"Here, hold these up fer a moment." Once standing, the sylvae pushed the two repaired pieces of clothing at Kieran, and then promptly dropped to his knees again when the younger man took them. A sprinkle of some herb into the bowl of his pipe produced pleasant smelling smoke as Conlaoch intoned some phrases in his native tone and passed the pipe under the clothes so that the smoke went up through it. A fine dust would fall away from the cloth after he was done. The clothes wouldn't exactly smell Good after such treatment, but at least they no longer stank of some other man's sweat.
 
as written by Script and Krysis

"I'm not quite that delusional," Kieran grunted in response. He couldn't bring himself to be angry at the man who'd saved his life, per say, because in some respects he was right. Still, it was grating to be lectured so. "I was well aware that the situation out here would be grim. But naturally, the specifics of it were beyond my experience. I'm picking it up as I go along, with no pretence that I've not got a lot of learning to do."

He wrinkled his nose at the clothes, but held them as instructed. "Nothing says I have to be particularly fond of hardship, but I'm perfectly willing to deal with it." Kieran raised an eyebrow as he watched the small man work.

"Nice trick," he noted after taking a hesitant sniff. "My mother would probably kill someone to be able to get the smell out of my father's work clothes so easily."

____

"Ya ever seen a Sylvae bent over a washtub? Most of my kinfolk wouldn't know how to start, because they use tricks like that. Me? I like soap and water. Which is why I am bloody terrible at that particular spell. That magic knows I don't trust it as well as lye and a scrub board and doesn't come easy for the householdy stuff like that." Conlaoch seemed almost proud of not being good at something. Of course, he seemed to have a generally high opinion of himself anyway.

"Now ya look disreputable and not at all like yerself, lad. Let's hit the north road and see if we can't pick up the trail of the lady. Someone told me which way she went, but all I remember is north. Might have been north-west. Mayhap I have a trick for that too, if the tracks be scarce." He'd double check his pack and tie up the scraps bag, but then he was ready to go. If Kieran seemed content to carry the lantern, Conal wouldn't ask for it back, though he would be just as happy to carry the light.

____

Kieran nodded without thinking, before he blinked. "You're coming along?" he asked with an amused quirk of his eyebrow, "And there I thought you were kidding when you said you planned to be my keeper."

He didn't seem displeased that the sylvae had decided to join him, and set off towards the north of town. They passed scarce few people on their way. Taldasin was a sparsely populated settlement at the best of times, and only a small portion of the old ruined town actually showed any sign of occupancy. Those faces that they did pass were shrouded, and they hunkered down to make their way undisturbed.

Minding one's own business was a prevalent prerogative out in the frontier, Kieran had discovered. Which likely explained the amount of trouble he got into, asking questions around the place.

When they reached the overgrown northern road, it only took a few moments to spy a trail. Flattened plants and large one-booted footprints in the dirt, deep as though left by a great weight.

"Ah," Kieran noted, "That would be our quarry's passage."

The occasional splash of blood decorated a plant or darkened the dirt around the prints. They led away to the north-east. "If nothing else," Kieran noted, "It's normally easy to follow. I lost the trail on the stone of the town's old roads."

____

"So it is easy to follow, it doesn't hide, and is nasty enough that people recognize it as a monster on sight." Conlaoch frowned as he followed his taller companion, having to fly every now and then when Kieran was particularly fast. "Yet, this Leech thing is still running around, long enough that word of it reached whatever city you were from? Slow down, going barreling in is just going to get us both killed."

The small man wasn't quiet at all, his pack rattling loudly as he jogged after Kieran, occasionally grumbling about undead boogy beasts and impetuous young men. When he pauses to relight his pipe, Conlaoch isn't out of breath, but he is less than amused.

"Do you know the strengths of this thing? More importantly, its weaknesses? It might help to share such tidbits with yer partner in this venture. Don't mistake me, lad. I don't want money, but I am not going to watch you throw away yer life either." It takes some packing and puffing, but soon the bowl of the pipe has a cherry red coal in it once more.

____

"Actually, I was out here before I heard of it," Kieran noted, "I told you. I've been here a few weeks. This isn't my first bounty... just the first one that wasn't human."

He hesitated, "I'd guess that the reason it's still around is that it's smart enough to retreat out to places that are thoroughly corrupted by the void still. There aren't many people around here who'll risk chasing after it to those places, there's a lot of superstition around about them. People think just going there's enough to taint you, but the process doesn't work like that at all."

In the distance, the black mass that was the Forest of the Fall loomed. The Aldwardine Plains were a walk in the park compared to the dangers that lurked amongst those trees, and Kieran could only hope the creature's desire to remain near a source of victims would keep it from there.

"If I had to guess, I'd say it used blood magic of some primitive variety. That means it's going to have a lot of power behind it, but probably not much precision. Blood magic is hard to control at the best of times." He glanced down at the trail again, "And by the depth of its prints, I'd say that its bloating has gotten to the point where it's cumbersome in movement. It'll be slow. Easy to evade, if you're expecting it."

As they walked, the evening stretched on. The light was low, and darkness drawing closer. Kieran didn't exactly want to travel at night, but if they waited till morning, they'd have lost a lot of ground. But they could set up camp when it got too dark to travel at all safely, and he could disguise their position with a few simple wards. It would be fine, probably. After all, it had always worked so far.

____

"I keep forgetting that you've been 'round the block, you still seem so shiny and new. Humans live so briefly, it is hard to get a handle on how quickly ya change." Conlaoch explains, rubbing his chin and a little embarrassed that he couldn't remember something so simple. He wouldn't go so far to apologize, not yet, but he didn't really want to annoy his new friend.

"Blood magic, eh? Do ya know what kind of creature it was before it became what it is now? Looks like two feet and one would assume two hands, but that don't always mean human. Boots seem to suggest something reasonably intelligent, but undead wear whatever they had on before they got back up again anyways." the sylvae man points out, before he flags Kieran down again.

"Hold up a second. Let me fly up and see if I can see anything useful before we go stumbling over it or the lady or whatever might be out here. Don't want to just fly off and leave you by accident in the worse place." His pack would clatter to the ground again before Conal would take to the air. His torn wing pained him and he wore a grimace so he would groan, but the wound wasn't oozing anymore and it functioned well enough. He just wouldn't be making any hard turns for a while, until it finished healing up, but straight up and straight down wasn't so bad.

____

"I'm not certain," Kieran admitted, "You're right that it was probably once humanoid. I'd guess either human or elven, given the general populace, but if it's from further afield it might have been something else." He shook his head, "Whatever it was, I doubt much of that's left, from the stories I've heard."

He halted as Conal took flight to wait, watching him ascend with a slightly bemused expression. It had always baffled him how the fragile-looking wings of the sylvae allowed them such easy and agile flight. Fey magic of some sort, he assumed.

From his vantage point on high, Conal would get a good view of the surrounding plains. In the near distance, Taldasin's lights were clearly visible - despite its low populace, the torches and lamps which lit the occupied streets made the ruined town stand out in the gloom. Other, more distant lights, marked the position of other settlements - be it towns, smaller villages, or fortified farmsteads.

Though there wasn't enough light to make out individual figures, Conal would be able to make out - not more than a few miles ahead, over a hill - a light not unlike the lantern Kieran held below. Off to the near east, not far from the Forest of the Fall's border, a multitude of such lights were visible as though carried by a small caravan. They seemed very inviting.

____

"Company to the east, near the forest." Conlaoch informed his friend upon landing. The small man stumbled a bit, favoring one side as he caught his balance and picked up his gear again.

"I doubt this Leech thing needs lanterns, so I think it is the lady ahead of us on this track. But how likely do ya think it that our mutual quarry has decided to get another meal on his way to the woods? The lights to the east have a bit of a draw to them that even I feel, and I am not generally the sociable type." This from the man that forced his company on Kieran without invitation. Apparently, Conal has no sense of irony.

"Might be that they are enchanted. Might be a trap for the Leech. I can't tell if it is illusion or not from this distance. Hell, it might be paranoia on my part. This is my first time hunting something like this." The pipe smoke rises in furious little puffs as the short man considered all that he did not know, and grudgingly admited in his heart of hearts that the Lady of Memories was right to tell him to go experience more of the world.

____

"I've not heard anything about lights to do with the leech," Kieran noted, "But a bunch of lights together sounds like a caravan. If we can meet up with them to spend the night, it'll be a lot safer, and we'll still have made good progress..."

He mused for a few moments longer before nodding, "The trail veers north-eastwards anyway, so we won't lose too much ground, and can pick it up in the morning. There's no way that woman will be able to travel far in the night alone."

With that said, the boy started in the direction of the eastern lights. "So I don't think I've asked yet," he began, "How come you're out here on the Frontier? I've not seen many sylvae before, and those that I have were in the city."

____

"Not only that, but being with the caravan will keep them safer too. Assuming they need keeping safe." Conlaoch pointed out thoughtfully, rubbing his chin as he tended to do when he was thinking. His pack rattled as he resettled it over his shoulders to follow the human, after pointing out the smoothest route he had seen from the air.

"Eh, I'm learning about human crafts. And other peoples. I had a crazy plan to-- Well, when I asked someone that knew about such things, she sent me on this, er, quest." Conal grinned up at Kieran suddenly, "Maybe she was just trying to cure me of my ambitions, because she knew if I stayed in the Glade, I'd pursue my dream doggedly. Nothing like finding out how small you are to make a man realize how big he is dreaming."

____

"My mother always said that in the eyes of the world, a person might seem insignificant. But in the eyes of another, that same person can be more significant than all the world," Kieran smiled, "I don't think that travelling makes me feel small. It just opens the way to touching a lot more lives. Saving some ... though I guess, ending others ... But..."

He gestured back over his shoulder, "Anyway, I could've died back there if you hadn't come along. So I'd rate that as pretty major. I suppose I'm biased, though." He laughed, "I guess what I'm trying to say is not to give up, but in a roundabout and overblown way?"

Kieran sighed. "This is what happens when I try to be deep and philosophical."

As they walked, the lights came into sight from the ground. They didn't seem to have moved far - the caravan was likely setting up for the night. They really were inviting. Kieran could almost feel the warmth...

____

"Oh, I'm not giving up. It's just that I have further to go than I thought. And that caravan is closer than I thought." The sylvae man gave a concerned frown, messing with his pipe as he stared at the lights that they were fast approaching. "There goes that feeling again. Welcoming. It's not natural. Humans and sylvae are not an easy mix in the best of times and this is not a common sort of meeting."

Conlaoch would pause to pull a telescoping staff from the side of his pack, giving it a flick that had it expanding from 12 inches to 60 inches, and then engaging the locks so it would stay expanded. It was a pretty thing, etched with vine patterns and glinting silver in the moonlight. There was threading on both ends too, as if things could be screwed into place and make it a more formidable weapon. Or a useful reaching tool for the short man. Without any such additions, it looked like a fancy walking stick, and that was how the small man left it, rather than risk being blatantly hostile. After all, he could just be paranoid.

"Better ready your toasting knife, lad. Or at least loosen it in the scabbard." Conal advised, even though he was pretty sure Kieran wouldn't listen to him. After all, if he was feeling so comfortable himself with the natural resistance of his kind, what would the human be going through?

____

"What?" Kieran raised an eyebrow, "You certainly seemed to mix easy enough with me," he pointed out with a smile. "We can't take it for granted that they'll be friendly, I suppose, but I wouldn't go expecting it."

Never mind the fact that even as the lights drew closer, it became increasingly apparent that they didn't move as one might expect a fellow carrying a lantern to. The shapes of wagons or mounts were nowhere to be seen, and not a single silhouette crossed before the lights even when they overlapped. All of this seemed to fly entirely over Kieran's head as he kept walking onwards.

And then, as the lights came so close that one might have expected to make out the features of those that carried them, his foot sank through the ground. Kieran yelped, stumbling forwards to one knee, which promptly joined his foot in pressing through what had swiftly become very soft earth. "What the- Light!"

Only now he'd fallen this close to it did Kieran notice there was something wrong with the plains beneath their feet. The grass was greyed and dark, woven with threads of pulsating blackness, and the soil seemed more like tar. Shadows played unnaturally across the surface, and it throbbed, sucking his leg in another inch in the manner of aggressive quicksand.

Ahead, the lights began to drift closer, and their true nature became more apparent. Seemingly will'o'wisps of a kind, they hovered on the edge of the lantern's natural glow like vultures, circling. Waiting.

"Ah, fuck," Kieran groaned.

____

"Will ya look at that. Those are almost cute." Conlaoch admits, grinning and rubbing his chin. Then he would wave the staff at the floating lights to try to disperse them gently.

"But the Forest of the Fall is their home, isn't it. That means they are deadly too." Conlaoch would then try the obvious solution of grabbing the back of Kieran's shirt and jacket and pull the larger man back towards solid land. If he has to use his damaged wings to get more thrust, Kieran would get to see a fine spray of something dark and viscous from the left-hand side, and the staff would be given to the human to use to help himself as well.

____

As Conloach pulled on Kieran, a number of strange tendrils of shadow reached out to pull back. They were almost fog-like in consistency, but their grip was strong, and a number stretched out for Conloach's legs as well. "Gah!" Kieran swore, drawing his sword free of its sheath with a flare of fire and slashing at the snaking shadows. "This place is void-touched! I'm an idiot!"

The light that the sword cast was more intense than that of the now discarded lantern, and it made it apparent that Kieran was right. The ground here was warped and unearthly black, grasping shadow rising from it unnaturally in defiance of the light. Occasionally he caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye of something resembling a vestigial face or eye, only for it to be gone when he turned to look.

His efforts at slashing through the shadows seemed to be helping, but now his foot was starting to go numb. With a curse, he spread his free hand and let a blast of flame blossom from his palm, casting the entire area in brief light and forcing the shadows back. He gained ground briefly, but as soon as the fire faded the disembodied limbs of darkness surged in once again with renewed vigour.

____

Conlaoch soon realized his efforts weren't helping, and the fire was doing more. Constantly muttering, he leaped for his pack and dragged out two clay bottles. One was oil, but the other was a potent alcoholic beverage. He hesitated about which one was which, unable to see the markings in the dark. Then, with a curse at his own stupidity, the sylvae busted both bottles open on the ground, on top of the lantern some feet away.

The oil broke first and almost drowned the lantern flame, but then the alcohol caught and set the area on fire. Starting at the unexpected bonfire, it took Conal a moment to remember to go back to the human boy and resume trying to pull him out of the quagmire.

"Keiran, you sure know how to get into a heap of trouble! This is the most excitement I've had in weeks!" The grouchy old fae creature growled in the boy's ear as his short arms went around the taller male's chest from behind for a better grip.

____

For a moment it seemed like the fire was working, and the shadows beat a hasty retreat away from the expanding blaze.

But then a large section of the ground rippled, as though a bubble had broken the surface and burst.

In the moment that followed, a mass of shadows surged forth from the ground like a great wurm protruding from the darkness below. The wisps rose with it, giving it the visage of something approaching a serpentine multi-headed angler fish.

Kieran whimpered.

Before the creature could descend on them, however, a loud rumble of rock on rock sounded and a shard of earth speared out of the shadows beneath Kieran. He blinked in surprise, before the shard rose and tilted back to shove him free of the shadows' grip and back onto solid ground - right onto Conloach.

"By the light," an exasperated woman's voice emerged from the darkness, "Can't anyone in this forsaken place take care of themselves? I feel like a maidservant, going around clearing up peoples' messes."

A glint of red flashed in the darkness, before a vast tide of flame surged forth over Kieran and Conal's heads, striking the towering void-wurm dead on. The creature wailed in agony, reeling away from the strike, but the flames kept coming. Illuminated by the fire, it was easy to make out the shapes of skulls and half-disintegrated body parts within the partially translucent creature's mass.

"Well don't just sit there," the woman called again, "I can't very well incinerate this thing while you're sitting on it."

She too was lit up by the flames, which were emanating from her palm. Of a slender but muscled build, she carried a bladed staff and was lightly armoured with plated leather, one arm left uncovered. Her hair was short and dark, and by her expression, she came across as mildly irritated with the situation. It was perhaps a somewhat understated reaction to the towering creature of darkness before her, but then again, this was Aelora.

It wasn't altogether that out of the ordinary.

____

Conlaoch hadn't expected Kieran to come loose quite so abruptly, and was still trying with all his might when the slab of earth shoved them backwards. So with a buzz of dragonfly winds, they went zooming backwards, careening off at a crazy angle before a natural rise in the shape of the land stopped the flight of the little brown man and his human cargo. Smashed between the ground and Kieran, Conlaoch had a moment to think that this was how a beetle felt under a boot.

With the breath knocked out of him and certain tender portions of his anatomy pretty thoroughly battered, Conal could barely gasp out, "Wasn't our fault."

He really wasn't built to carry something as heavy as Kieran, so the syvlae would be terribly sore in the morning, but that wasn't his next topic of concern. Nope. Somewhere in the midst of all the excitement, he had lost his pipe. Or rather, misplaced it. And that worried him more than firestorms, giant wurms made of shadows, or the various injuries he had acquired since meeting the boy.

____

The woman stepped forwards as the two men retreated backwards with all the dignity and poise of a one-legged man running hurdles, funnelling more power into her flames now that they were clear of the area. The soft earth around the wurm's pit began to bake, and its wails intensified under the barrage.

Still screeching, it lurched forwards, tendrils of shadow shooting out to assail its attacker from her flanks. Rather than falling back, however, she ducked down under the first swipe and charged. The aggression took the wurm by surprised, and its other strikes fell behind her as she moved, letting her flames die.

Shards of rock shot forwards to provide footfalls as she moved out onto the corrupted soil, forming a makeshift staircase. "Come on, you phallic piece of crap," she called out, "Aren't you hungry?"

Whether responding to her taunt, or merely tempted by her proximity, the creature responded. It lunged forwards with gaping jaws to bite down on her, but before it could it was met by another torrent of fire. The flames poured into its mouth and surged down its throat with guided precision, before exploding outwards. The beast's shriek was cut short as its insides were fried, and it slumped down to the ground.

The woman nodded with satisfaction, turning to descend back to the ground. The unpleasant odour of charred flesh began to rise from its corpse.

Kieran could only gape from where he'd extracted himself from atop Conal. "Er, thanks. That was. Wow."

She smiled as she drew closer, "I get that a lot. Sometimes 'wow' is swapped out with 'oh Light, save me', though. Can't please everyone, I suppose."

____

Conal wheezed where he had fallen, leaning back on the earth after briefly sitting up so that he could fold his wings properly. He was still checking his clothes fitfully, holding a little, rattling box in one hand and the smokeweed pouch in the other as he searched for his pipe with his free fingers.

"Next time someone tells ya that a thing could be a trap, ye'll listen instead of barreling in like a hog on the scent of truffles." Conlaoch said wearily, then groaned and pushed himself upright again. The spark in his eyes has dimmed and he seemed tired and diminished. His accent was stronger too, as if he didn't have the energy to correct his speech and stifle the rolling 'r's and fluid vowels.

"Be a good lad and fetch me pack, would ye? I dunnae think I broke anything, but I feel like I've been beaten like a marriage mattress. Leaves of the first forest, but what would I give to find me pipe intact!"

____

"Sorry," Kieran sighed, "I wasn't thinking clearly. In hindsight, maybe it was messing with my head... there were plenty of signs it wasn't a caravan."

"Wouldn't be surprised," the woman shrugged, "Those lights weren't natural. It's possible it came across some real will-o-wisps in the past, and managed to imitate them. Void corruption is adaptable if nothing else."

Kieran pulled himself to his feet and cast his eyes around, but the darkness made it difficult to make anything out, even with the light of his sword to go by. He waved the blade this way and that, searching out the pack along the path of their flight. "I'm assuming you're the rival bounty hunter I heard about," he said after a moment.

"Bounty hunter?" The woman raised an eyebrow, "I suppose you could call me that. I prefer 'vigilante' though. It's more derring-do."

Plucking Conal's pack from the ground, Kieran gave the woman a confused glance, "You're... not after the bounty, then?"

"Not everything in life's about money. If it was, why in the Light would I have bothered saving a couple of nitwits wandering around alone in the dark. I don't think it would have been a stretch for me to assume the pair of you were just committing a particularly inefficient form of suicide. Am I to take it, then, that you are a pair of bounty hunters yourself?"

"I am. Of a sort," Kieran answered with a shrug. "My name is Kieran."

____

Conal gave a tired smile at the woman, though he sat up and went hunting through his pack eagerly enough when Kieran found it. "This nitwit is particularly stupid. Not only did I already rescue the lad once from an unsavory crowd, but then I was foolish enough to follow him when I knew it was a bad idea. Somehow I got the thought in my head that I could save him a second time and then he'd listen."

He found his pipe at about that time, apparently having stowed it without thinking when he had hunted for the bottles of flammables. The sylvae male filled the bowl of the intricately craved pipe with smoke weed and would be trying to light it before he remembered to introduce himself, "I am Conlaoch, of the Uncourt. Conal is the easy form, for human mouths. I'm not interested in bounties. I am a wandering tinker at this time. I mend and make pretty much any sort of goods I can get my hands on. Enchant some too, when I have the chance and there are folks as can pay."

He gave a sigh of satisfaction when the cheery red glow settled down and the pleasant smell drifted around him once more. "What about you, Ms Vigilante? To whom do we owe our gratitude?"

____

"Kieran and Conlaoch," the woman repeated with a nod of acknowledgement, the sylvae name slipping off her tongue with practised ease. "What a soundly odd pair. I'm sure the two of you would make a wonderful double act if you ever took to the stage." She swung a backpack down from her back and began to untie a bedroll from it.

"Here's as good a place to camp as any. There'll be no other predators around here with that thing," she jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the fallen wurm, "having been lurking here for light knows how many years. My name is Emma. Emma Armelle. Otherwise known as 'Oh No', or sometimes 'Meddling Bitch'."

"Wait..." Kieran blinked, "I've heard your name before somewhere."

"Oh goodie." Emma sighed, "And here I thought I'd be spared recognition in the middle of the wilderness during the dead of night. There truly is no escape."

"You're the blood mage that helped the Vanguard! No wonder you're so powerful! And that explains why you're tracking the leech, you hunt other blood mages!"

"Two for two, genius," Emma kicked her bedroll out and stuck her staff into the ground. "Now are you two going to go and fetch some firewood or do I have to do everything myself?"

____

Conlaoch wasn't about to go into the the Forest of the Fall at night, nor to let Kieran risk his life a third time, especially for something as mundane as firewood. Thankfully, the small brown man had a solution to the problem. He pulled out a few sheets of metal from his pack and unfolded the contraption into an ingenious portable stove, into which he loaded a brick of peat. He did something to it that smacked of fae magic, involving his pipe and a spoken invocation, and the block of peat, which was really nothing more than dried vegetable matter and such, would burn until dawn without seeming to be consumed. The stove would soon be glowing cherry red, putting off enough heat to keep them all warm. A tiny clay pot full of dark fluid got put on top, and filled the hollow with the smell of flowers and spices, so they wouldn't have to try to sleep with the smell of burnt flesh in their noses.

He didn't talk much as he worked, just explaining if asked what the results would be. Mostly he figured the two humans were ready for sleep, and he didn't need as much rest as the mortal folk did, so he didn't mind making things comfortable while they bedded down. Eventually even the sylvae slept, on a bare bit of earth with his pipe still smouldering in one hand and nothing between him and the dirt. He listened to the thrum of life deep in the land and was restored by the magic inherent in all things.

In the morning, they'd probably be woken by Conlaoch singing towards the north, during the sunrise. His singing voice was low and earthy, pleasant and soothing, but not what one would call 'on key'. If Emma knew enough about the sylvae language and culture, she'd recognize it as something from the Court of Songs. The point was to attract birds and get the news of the day. Depending on the type of bird, he might learn where the ripe seeds were, or if the hunting was good, or if there was something wandering where it ought not to be.

If the birds had no useful news, next he'd sing for the rodents, and so on, until he found some sort of critter that knows where the Leech has gone to ground.

____

Kieran watched Conal work for a while with interest, observing his craft after having determined that no, they were not going to wander off into the dark to look for sticks.

Emma seemed largely disinterested, and after taking some time to mark wards around their campsite, she settled down on her bedroll and was quickly asleep. It was only after she had been lightly snoring for some time that Kieran elected to lay his head down as well, gazing up at the starless sky. Eventually he drifted off into a restless sleep.

When morning came, Emma was the first to stir in response to Conal's singing. She sat up, blinking a couple of times and apparently very quickly shaking off the haze of sleep. "Curious little morning ritual," she remarked dryly.

Across from her, Kieran groaned and rolled over.

"Oh, do stop whining." Emma plucked her staff from where it lay and jabbed at Kieran's side with the none-bladed end.

The young bounty hunter pushed himself laboriously to a sitting position, his hair hanging messily in front of his face. "That was unnecessary," he mumbled, "I was working up to it."

"Well, now that we've all had a nice night's rest," Emma rummaged in her pack for a few moments before pulling out a piece of bread, taking a bite of it. "I'd like to dishcush how big a pair of idiotsh you are," she continued through the mouthful for a few moments before swallowing. "Or were you travelling with more people that got eaten before I arrived?"

She shook her head. "Not even idiot bandits travel in smaller groups than a half dozen out here. Are you actually trying to die?"

____

"I do just fine on my own, chicka. Then again, I can fly off if things bother me." Conlaoch answered dryly as he gave a weary stretch and rubbed at the small of his back, which had made an audible crunch. "It's the boy that needs a keeper. He was so worried about you taking his bounty that he didn't want to stay in town over night."

"By the way, the mice say that the void tainted one has taken refuge in the forest. As expected, but now confirmed. Birds claim there are ripe berries in the next hollow, but I suspect we might be too late to get any. Cheeky little buggers probably flew there directly after telling me about them." He groaned as he got up, and pulled a dented kettle and a small bag full of hand-sized paper packets from his pack as he relayed the news.

He paused to sniff the morning air, grimaced, and muttered, "Mint, to settle the stomach. You two are welcome to join me for tea, of course, but you'll need your own cups."

____

"I've survived fine so far," Kieran muttered. "Last night was an exception."

"And it only takes one exception to kill you," Emma snapped sharply, "If I hadn't been nearby, you would be dead now. That's not a slip up you can correct."

Kieran's expression tightened, but it was clear he knew the older woman was right. He sighed and lowered his eyes.

"Well, at least you can admit it," Emma noted, "That's better than a lot of people. Even I prefer not to travel alone if I can avoid it. Anyone can be surprised and dead before they have a chance to do anything about it." She turned her attention back to Conlaoch, "Nice trick, with the critters."

She turned towards the forest with a sigh. "Two things to know about the Forest of the Fall. First thing, if you see a suspiciously dense patch of vines then speak up and don't go near it. It's probably Strangleweed and it'll probably kill you. If you do get caught in it, don't use fire unless you can keep that fire going long enough to get completely clear. Heat livens it up. If you can, use frost magic. If you can't, then ... well, start praying. Second thing, you spot any cat-men - Mira - in there, be polite. It's their turf. And they'll shoot you if they think you're a threat. Might shoot you anyway, if you say the wrong thing."

She reached into her pack and pulled out some more bread and dried jerky, "Eat up, if you're set on coming along, you'll need your strength."

____

"Frost magic, eh? If I had a day or two, I could enchant something that way. Are ya in that much of a hurry?" The sylvae asked, flopping down to relax on a tuft of grass while the tea brewed. His wings whirled once, then twice before settling down again. Only a little dried black fluid on the tip showed where he had been injured before.

His pipe smoke coiled above the camp as he lounged, thinking about how he would do it. "Seems like you two both love fire, so a weapon you can use against strangleweed would be helpful. I can set up a forge somewhere close, in town if ya can manage not to piss off everyone off this time."

"Maybe... maybe these Mira would be like to have my services instead? Hmmm. Yet another race to learn about. I'll tag along with you two at least until I find out what these cat folk are about." Conal announced, like it was a forgone conclusion that they would want to have the little brown man with them.
 
The Pride had made camp on a small hill two nights prior. It was lightly cropped with a couple of evergreens, probably some sort of spruce by the looks of them. The first day had been spent sparring. Running drills. Anything to pass the time, short of drinking or spilling their own blood over petty squabbles. That was strictly forbidden, after all. Part of the bandit company's very few rules. No infighting. So instead, the forty-aught individuals had spent the first sun up to sun down practicing their bloodsport. Whetting their blades. Polishing their armor. Getting a good day of rest in, a hearty meal. Games of chance, to pass the time. It helped that it wasn't too hot, and the breeze was more or less a constant without being too much of a bother. And blowing from the direction the Pride's prey would be coming from. All the better to mask their scent from the caravan's horses.

So the first day passed without incident. Once the sun began to fall, the leader sent three of his fastest, least noticeable scouts on reconnaissance, to find their target, and then report back with their numbers, and their pace. Simple requests, ones that the infiltrators had received numerous times before. At this point, it would be child's play for them. Their leader counted on it.

Hours later, nearly at the crack of dawn, the men on watch woke him with news of the caravan's progress, and even hints at what the merchants would be carrying, and the number of their guard. Four wagons, each with roughly six to eight protectors. Most looked like mercenary rabble, the kind you found at inns, deep in their cups and desperate for coin, with a veteran or two among them perhaps. A savage grin spread across hungry, feline features.

Uneasily, they continued to explain that it seemed like they were carrying coin a plenty, with iron, dried meats, ale, and pelts for trade. A very good haul. A very easy haul.

Rising from his sitting position inside his tent, Kag'dun could not help himself but to laugh. "Go about the camp," He'd purr, reaching into his satchel to grip a flank of mutton. "Tell the men to start packing up their shit. The usual drill. Get behind the hill, put our elves and our arches in the trees. We'll storm out to meet them once their close enough, and slaughter them to a man. Whoever brings me the most ears gets an extra share of the loot."

Terrible fangs, some missing, some jagged and broken, ripped into the meat, shredding it as one might wet paper. It was more or less raw, staining the Mira's dirty snow colored fur with pink and red, muzzle dripping with viscera. "And some one find Akos for me!" The warlord would all but roar between mouthfuls of sheep. "I want that fucker on the front lines with me! And bring me my armor, my gear, now!"

The last command was punctuated by the hunk of flesh, now mostly bone, smacking one of the lithe little scouts in the face hard enough to propel him back out the flaps of Kag'dun's command tent, and only his ass, complete with bloody nose. The other two scrambled to do as they were told, and quick. The caravan would be upon the Crimson Pride is barely two hours, if that. Time was off the essence. As he tried to find his footing, the abused tracker would find a heavy pawed foot on his chest, cutting off his chance to escape their savage warlord.

"No...Not you. You get the honor of packing my shit for me, little elf." Somewhere, the Mira had found his trademark and infamous mace, a monstrously heavy thing, destructive enough to crush the skulls of men, mer, and horse alike with a single double-handed blow. "And then...try not to let Snowy gore ya when you're saddling him up for me, little one. I still expect to see some ears on your belt by the end of the day..."
 
While the rest of the Pride was readying for battle, one Lion, while awake, was lounging in his tent. He was partially equipped in his armor, albeit mostly the things he could put on by himself, and instead of putting on more, he was nursing a flask of some sort, likely wine.

When one of the young scouts burst into his tent he held up a hand.
"Let me guess, we're moving out?"
Upon receiving a nod of confirmation, Akos waved the boy over. "Help me with this armor, would ya?" While his voice was ragged and his tone somewhat demanding, he didn't portray the same sense of malice that his companion did.

Eventually Girod did amble out from the tent ready for battle, his sword at his hip and everything. He meandered his way towards the Mira's tent, as the cat would likely have wanted to see him.
 
By the time the Lion arrived, his leader would be ready himself, the same bloody-nosed elf having just finished securing the Mira's battleworn breastplate to the physically imposing Kag'dun. The scout received a harsh kick for his troubles and service. "Aaaaah, there you are Girod. Just in time." Around them, the camp had been broken down, and quick, at least for the most part. The Crimson Pride worked quick when faced with the wrath of the Mira exile they called war chief, and even quicker when plunder was so fresh on the air you could smell it. "You'll be riding with me today. Just the two of us, head on. No fancy stuff this time. We're to approach as two loan riders, and once their guards are busy with us, the rest of the Pride will ride out from the sides of the hill. Half to their left flank, the other half, well...I think I paint a clear enough picture."

Kag'dun would stop, his small, black nose twitching as it sniffed at the air. Horses. And not ones belonging to his men. "Better be quick about it. I'd say they're close enough by now they could hear any shouting, so saddle up, and tell any man you see to shut their gob." Beside him, that same abused elf from before silently brought up Snow Tusk, the massive dire boar Kag'dun called a war mount, covered from tail to hoof to neck in leather-and-chain barding. The top of swine nearly rivaled the upright feline's own height and still the Mira seemed to have no trouble climbing onto the creature one handed. "I'd give our prize half an hour at the most to arrive. At the most, and if I'm feeling generous." The more he spoke Man's tongue, and the quicker the battle seemed to draw upon them, the more his words began to turn into growls and snarls, battle lust beginning to flood the snowy cat's sky blue eyes.

"So hurry up. We've got merchants to slaughter and profit to make!"
 
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