High Fantasy RP Thread

I watched the creature charge at my teacher, Knight-Commander Caelin, only to be burned to ash with a wave of his hand; divine magic ripping the monster's bones apart. Undead had been seen in eastern Palis, and we had been asked to root it out by King Uther Palis himself, and while we held no loyalty to the human king, our duty was to vanquish evil. Shield in my hand, I followed Caelin into the lair of a necromancer. It was dark, damp and cold inside the cave, though there were obvious signs of use. The remains of meals, burned firewood, and even bones. I shuddered. Human sized bones was a good indicator of necromancy, or some other foul creature. Raising his hand, the Knight-Commander lit up the entire cave with a bright light, radiating from his palm. Tiny creatures skittered back into the dark, fleeing from the warm glow.

It was devoid of any people, but not belongings. A writing desk, covered by many papers, books, quills and ink, a bed, old and half-ruined. "Necromancy," I heard Caelin half-spit from the other side of the cave, "Bodies. Some of them have runes carved into them." I turned to where he was, crouched in front of a pile of corpses, some of them looked like children.
"We have to stop them." I stated as I went over the notes on the desk; anything that might lead us to them. I heard a noise, my head snapping back to the cave mouth. A pebble. I thought, seeing it spin on the spot. Following its path, I saw the necromancer bolt.

Urthak walked through the fields, his bow unstrung in hand, as he doubted he would need it now. The dead land muffled no footsteps, and from where he stood he could not see a hiding place. His old body all but creaked as it moved beneath his tattered clothing. In his off hand was his prize, however, the reason he was traveling through these dead lands he called home. It was a body, a recently dead one affixed to a frame of wood by thin wires and rope.

The chest of the poor individual had been carved open, the flaps of skin and meat wrenched open and tied up towards their hands, where each finger had been sliced along their length. Their head was the only thing allowed to move freely, not that it did any good. The eyes were stuck open and staring, wide with shock as it bounced along the ground. The legs were hardly legs any more, now simply bloody ribbons wrapped around broken bones and bits of dirt. This was to be the new addition to the Praxa borders, as per Urthak's job.

Off on the horizon, he could see movement, and so decided this would be the best place to put up this mockery of life. He set his bow down upon the ground and bent over, hoisting the frame up and driving it into the soft dirt some. Some blood he had missed from cleaning the body splattered upon his wrists, but he paid it no mind. It was not the first blood to be there, and would not be the last. He adjusted the base slightly, wiggling it back and forth into the dirt before packing it in, testing the strength to see how well it would stay. Satisfied, he turned and started making his way back, the dead elf staring out upon the human kingdom, daring it to try anything in a silent, still gesture.

"Stop fiend!" I yelled as I gave chase, my armour clanking as I ran after them. Outside of the cave, it was much easier to follow them, their scrambling form easy to make out as they struggled down the slope. They beat me to the bottom, and were already running when I reached the bottom, but I soon caught up and stopped them, my metal shield slamming into their back. The necromancer turned to face me, and I was greeted by the face of an old woman, her bloodshot eyes darting to my face as I brought my shield back to guard. "You stand accused of the black art, how do you plead?" I already knew her for what she was, the stench of death enveloped her, almost making me gag. She answered with a screech and a dagger thrust, her yellowing teeth flashing behind a snarl. The blow was obvious, and I easly deflected it with my shield, opening her from neck to waist as I did.

"Slow on the approach, and you didn't check for undead when you engaged her." Caelin said, holding up an old looking skull, a rune carved into the forehead. "Otherwise, well done. You've rid the world of another necromancer."
"Another victory for the righteous!" I exclaimed enthusiastically, smiling and raising my sword above my head in celebration. "The dead might rest in peace tonight."

There the effigy stood, on the border of Praxa and Palis.  Skuu and the rest of the soldiers in the patrol felt their stomachs drop as they stared in silence, watching the Palis soldier sway back and forward in front of them as flies swarmed the corpse and vultures picked at his flesh.  "Cut him down."  Skuu ordered, "Acquire his insignia.  He will not be forgotten."

One of the men cut the rope with his halberd, sending the rotting corpse rushing to the ground and landing with a loud snap and a smell most foul, causing many of the soldiers to cough whilst Skuu cringed.  "Wrap him in a blanket and put him on my horse.  We will take him to Azinath and there we will find his next of kin."

The soldiers hoisted the linen wrapped corpse upon Skuu's mount.  The smell was near unbearable, but Skuu had to stay strong to keep spirits up, though after seeing that horror, it will be a difficult task.

As Urthak walked, he adjusted his mask, another mockery of life and death, to better cover up his missing jaw. He still had his upper half, but the rest was gone leaving only a ragged hole where it once was. His mask, however, more than made up for it, as it was the very hands that had taken his jaw from his body. Little more than just bones sewn to leather bolted to a sheet of metal, they helped hide his ghastly image from the unaware, and helped him feel like nothing was missing from his cursed life.

Eventually, he came across a forest, filled with nothing but withered trees and empty branches. What little animals there were scattered at his presence, leaving him alone. He did not mind, it was his life now and he had made peace with that a long time ago. However, now and then he would have pains as he remembered who he was and what had happened to him. All of that was soon dissipated before it could do too much to his morale, as he spotted some drag marks in the dead soil. He crouched down and followed it, carefully stringing his bow in preparations.

Not a cloud was in the sky, the sun shining warmly in the ocean blue sky. A field of bronze wheat sat below, an ocean in and of itself as the gentle wind rolled over, ripples running across the surface at its touch. In the center of the fields was a human town of Pralis, wide paths cut through the fields of wheat from the gates lining the town walls, farmers busy cutting down wheat for the harvest.

Down one of the paths from the east, astride horse of chestnut brown, came a lone rider. Garbed in brown leather armor, a hood over his head and a sword at his hip, Marcus Aurelius could have passed for an ordinary traveler, the sword standard for defense. Of course, the Spellsword living as a sellsword was hardly normal.....or perhaps he was. Having magic wasn't exactly exceptional, since everyone could use it. The exceptional bit, was in how it was used, and in this case it was in making him money.

Since leaving the Legions a ten years ago, Marcus had been living as an explorer, accepting mercenary work on the side to put food in both his stomach, and his horses. Truth be told, he much preferred being an explorer, delving into caves and ruins, looking for lost trinkets and treasures.....when the traps and residents were easy enough for him to fight. More than once, he had to run out of a location due to something down in the dark being too much for him, even with his magic. But working as a mercenary or a bounty hunter wasn't all bad, and gave him a chance to keep his skills sharp.

The soldiers rode across the hilly plains, pushing the horses.  Skuu didn't want to have to camp before  getting to the city, so they would have to keep the horses moving to get there before dark.  "Move, beast!  Hyah!"  Skuu screamed as the large draft horses breathed heavily under the weight of the orc along with the added pounds from the corpse.

The other soldiers also shouted words of 'encouragement' to their mounts, hoping to get to their destination sooner.

As Marcus drew closer to the town gates, a few of the farmers looked up from their work, their heads slightly covered by wide-brimmed hats of straw. Those that looked up wondered in their minds if the stranger was going to be trouble or not, but aside from their silent thinking, not one of them said a word of greeting to the stranger. The town, more of a large village really, was far from the heartland of Pralis and the safety of more frequent Legion patrols and as such more at risk for bandit attacks, which was what made them nervous of Marcus, even if they did not know him.

His horse clopped into town, passing through the gates and giving him a close look at the large wooden double doors that made up the gate. Along the outside of the doors, iron spikes jutted out, an extra defense when the doors closed. Intriguing, though what made Marcus worry was this: was it bandits alone, or something worse to warrant such a defense?

We burned the necromancer's body as well as her research notes. I would have liked to have overseen the return her victims as well, but time didn't allow. Instead, we said a short prayer at the mouth of the cave. As we set off for our destination, Sutrea, we informed the nearby settlement of the necromaner's death, and were assured that the bodies would be collected shortly. The town mayor thanked us in the form of two horses, and though we had tried to decline, he had been insistant. Although we couldn't bring the victims back to life, we had prevented more suffering at the hands of a death-mage, and for that, I could be glad. We rode in silence, the Knight-Commander leading the way while I was reading a book, written by Head-Paladin Korlin Levallyn; the elf who had lead during the first blight. It went into detail on undead creatures long forgotten, monsters created from magic and death.

Gazing upon the abomination "Kaydrenth", my Paladins shook, the terrifying visage of the Dracolich laying waste to the armies of our allies. They feared not death, for each of their lives belonged to a higher cause, they feared because they saw the face of destruction, not death. The monster had slaughtered countless before us, and our oaths demanded we destroy the abomination, or die in the process.
A Dracolich has the weaknesses of any undead, but the power that had coursed through its blood in life still gives it strength, and our divine magic could scarcely wound it. Through hours of fighting and countless dead, the beast fell, surrounded by a mountain of corpses.
I shuddered, the image of a skeletal dragon laying waste to armies forming in my mind. Kaydrenth, the only Dracolich to be seen by mortal eyes.
"Commander," I said, addressing Knight-Commander Caelin, "What chance is there of Kaydrenth being raised again?"
"None. His bones were blessed by the Paladins who slew him, and are sealed underground in Ris." He answered me over his shoulder.
"Could the Lich raise another?"
"No," He said, "Dragons are gods to the Orcs. If Praxa desecrated one, the Orcs would rally against them, the humans would invade, and we'd purge Praxa of necromancy and undeath. There'd be blood, but Praxa would be destroyed."

I closed the book, carefully returning it to my saddlebag, and focused on the journey. We would be arriving at Sutrea within a few hours.

After climbing the last hill the soldiers were now in site of Azinath.  Once they rode closer, the gate doors had already been opened, welcoming the returning patrolmen.  As the horses walked into the city, some of the towns people who looked happy to see the soldiers had quickly grimaced after seeing the wrapped body on Skuu's horse.

Skuu directed his horse over to his second in command.  "Get the men set up in the barracks, we'll stay here for the night.  I'll handle the fallen."  The other soldier nodded and started to Address the others.  Skuu made his way toward the watch captain of Azinath's office.  Once there, he got off his horse and grabbed the corpse before walking in.  As the door opened, the knight behind the desk looked up and to his surprise was the Orc legionnaire with a body over his shoulder.

As the smell moved faster than Skuu walked, the watch captain spoke out in protest, "What the hell is that, Sergeant!?"  Skuu dropped the body on the captain's desk covered with papers, with a distinguished thud sound.  "Your problem.  Here's his insignia.  Find his home to bury him."  And before the captain could say anything Skuu was already walking away and out the door.

The ground was just soft enough to muffle Urthak's footsteps, as he crept along the path made by whatever object was moved through the earth. It twisted and wound through the forest, going up and over exposed roots and under low hanging branches, some of which had been snapped off. Either the carrier or the carried were large, this told him, or held no regard for hiding. He kept his bow ready just in case, as being this close to the border meant that it could be almost anyone.

A clearing soon became visible, a large open area surrounded by thickly packed trees, and this is where he found his target. A death knight was an effigy of her own. He stood up and unstrung the bow as he walked into the clearing. "Vanna, you've come far from where you normally post." He called out as he walked forward. "Hello Urthak, still hiding your most beautiful feature, I see." Came the reply, the undead female elf turning around with effigy in hand. She was heavily disfigured, and certainly rotted in most places, with bits of armor and a evil looking sword on her back.

"How goes the training? Need a hand?" He asked, gesturing to the bound body in her hand. "No, I can get it." She turned back around and began to work. "Well, how's training?" "It's good." He speech seemed to say she wanted to avoid conversation, or company. "Did you get in trouble again?" "No, no. Just...why are you here?" "I was in the area, saw drag marks, wanted to investigate." He said, stepping around to look at her as she worked. "I can leave if you want." "COuld you? Thanks, I need to focus on getting this one right." He nodded slowly, actually surprised by the stiff dismissal and started off without another word.

Delvar Rivetson, an aspiring young dwarf, bested his sparring partner yet again. The other, slightly older dwarf looked up at the winner. "Ever better, Delvar. Is there a slight chance you'd let me win even once?" He asked sarcastically. His name was Rodir Strongarm, but everyone just called him Rod. A gag he wanted to be rid of. Delvar chuckled and helped him up. "Maybe one day friend. But not soon." He said with a smile. Delvar and Rodir had been friends practically since birth. Delvar always seemed to almost crave trouble, constantly in any fights he could get himself into. Luckily for him Rodir behaved better and they countered each other. A great duo if there ever was one.

"Alright!" A voice boomed from the overhead. "That's enough for now! Onto the next course!" The voice was that of one Klien Stonemight, the Head Recruiter. A seasoned Legionnaire who lost his leg to the Undead. Now he walks on a leg made of steel and wood. "You should know this by now but I'll say it anyway for those daft few. This practice will build trust among you recruits and test your strategic skills. Split up into equal groups and prepare." Delvar hated this part of training. He never did well in this and no one liked having him for that reason. Rodir patted his shoulder. "Maybe this time will be different?"

The response wasn't unusual for Urthak. He wasn't a Death Knight, and most of them believed they were better than the rest, the pinnacle of Undeath, aside from the Lich. There was a belief among them that they shouldn't make friends with any 'lesser' undead, though they can still be courteous. That was something he actively despised about his new home, there seemed to be no chance to change what you wanted to do. Everyone was raised with a goal in mind, and you were tasked to do that goal or else you were put back into the ground. He had seen some humans who had refused to be part of the undead empire go through death several times before they submitted, and even then it was just to be cleaning boys.

Skuu walked to the nearest tavern, leading his horse behind him.  Tying his steed outside of the Whistling Wheel, Skuu walked inside.  He saw some of his enlisted men there, but occupied an empty table to himself, sprawling out a map across the wood surface.  A bar maiden made her way over to the Orc, almost nervously asking what he wanted.  "An ale and the night's dinner."  He exclaimed without even looking at her.  She did a half bow and walked off.

Skuu protruded an ink pen and vile from one of his pouches and after dipping the pen he put an ex mark on the map where they found the strung-up soldier.  On the map there a few other landmarks along the border written down, starting from farthest south moving its way up to the most recent ex Skuu just put down.

The maiden came back with a tankard of ale and a plate of mutton.  "Will that be all?"  She asked to which Skuu replied with silence, not even so much as moving his eyes away from the map to look at the woman.  Once she walked away Skuu grabbed the tankard and downed half of it.

Leokul gave a stretch and rubbed his eyes. He closed the book in front of him and placed it back on the shelf. The Library was closed. It had been for the last two weeks. No-one was supposed to know he was back in Sutrea yet. He didn't want the bureaucrats trying to drag him into more matters he never cared about.

He blew the candle out and raised his hood before opening the door and slipping outside.

Marcus' first stop was to the tavern, hoping to get some food in his belly. He had his own food of course for traveling, but most of it was dried meats, and he wasn't much of a cook. The thought of getting a properly cooked, tasty meal, was very appealing to him, and his growling stomach voices its approval.

He pitched his horse and waked in, the interior dark save for light shining from open windows and candles lit on the tables. The smell of wood-smoke and cooking meats made his stomach escalate from a growl to a roar, and he walked to a table, sitting down and waiting. The owner sent one of his workers, a young girl just recently bloomed into womanhood over to Marcus' table. No smile on her face, she looked at the traveler and said "What'll it be sir?" Marcus gave it a moment thought and said "Mead please. Pork, chicken and cheese to eat." From a pouch on his belt, he removed a few gold coins, holding them out for her to take, which she did with a small smile, now clearly satisfied he was a customer. She left for the bartender to deliver the order, and the gold.

Skuu, in between bites of food or swigs of ale continued studying the map intently.  After finishing his meal along with more than a couple tankards of ale, Skuu brandished his chewed up pipe and lit the contents of it in flame.  He then rolled up the map and stuck it under his belt before exiting the tavern.

Skuu looked up at the city walls.  Guards held torches as they patrolled the walls.  Azinath was well armed with a decent number of soldiers in it, but Skuu always wondered, even though Praxa seemed to be keeping mostly to itself, if that nation would ever decide to lead a siege against Palis, then Azinath would be the first to be assaulted and with any other capital a good journey away, they would rely solely on their own defenses to face any scourge.

Skuu didn't believe the land of Praxa was becoming docile, but instead preparing itself for war.  He didn't believe the effigies that littered their borders were warnings to stay away, but acted more as banners.

The Orc wandered through the forest, winding through the dead trees and rotted leaves. Small animals scurried about here and there, triggering his hunter's instinct. Part of him wanted to chase them, to pin them and skin them for food, but he had to shake that off. Urthak was no longer a hunter, at least not one of animals. He passed by another strung up body, this one relatively intact when viewed from the front, but as he walked past the side he could get a better look at it.

The flanks were entirely stripped away, leaving gaping holes in the skin that exposed the ribs and spin. The flesh inside, muscles and organs and nerves, was all taken away leaving only the bones. There was an addition however, tightly packed dirt with worms and insects to fill all the spaces the organs once held. It was an old practice that has since died out but is still practiced by some Death Knights or effigy-makers. The face was painted with it's own, dried blood, whatever markings that were there having started fading and the face was shriveled slightly. It was doubtful that anyone would see this, unless they were traveling deep into Praxa's lands.

A short ways later he emerged from the other side, a town off in the distance which was his destination. He tugged his mask up a little more and continued his walk, rebalancing his bow in his hand as the large undead went.

The ride was quiet and uneventful, even if it was boringh interrupted only by short breaks for food and water, and to give the horses a rest. The gates of Sutrea towered overhead, standing open to allow travellers entry to the town. We were met at the gates by a pair of guards, and informed that we had been given rooms in the lord's home, and escorted there.

His food and drink delivered, Marcus dug in while enterprising on a skill he found invaluable: listening. It wasn't anything dramatic, like closing his eyes and concentrating.....at least not anymore. He began honing the skill when he found out that lots of useful information could be picked up by listening in on conversations, people thinking their words would go unnoticed as a whisper.

That said, it helped if there were more people. And that they were talking. But so far, neither of the two requirements were met, leaving him to keep eating. It didn't matter that much, since he already had a target in mind. According to the bounty notice he had on him, there was supposedly a small bandit camp in the area of the town, further east and hidden in the hills. One person in particular was the target of the bounty, so he planned on giving them an ultimatum.

Leokul strolled through the alleyways of the town, keeping away from any who would be likely to recognise him. He wondered on how strange it was. A lord sneaking through his own town. He had never wanted the Lordship in anything other than name and the only reason he wanted that was for the influence it gave.

He reached the road round the back of his manor and began the short clamber up to the open window. He climbed inside just as his handmaiden opened the door to the room.

"M'lord. There's two Paladins that have arrived. The council emissary says that the Council has given then accommodation in your house. What should I tell them?"

"I'm not supposed to be here, Elarda. We shall have to respect the Councils decision. Place them in the room opposite to this one. I'll meet with them later tonight in secret. I do not like having Paladins in the town. It makes me uneasy about my people."

"Right away, M'lord."

Leokul gave a sigh as she left the room and climbed into the bed, pulling off his cloak as he did so, he was only moderately dressed underneath and didn't care enough to remove the rest.

A little while later, after he was done with his meal and leaving the town, Marcus found himself entering the hills beyond. Vast expanses of grass stretched before him, rising up and falling down in time to the hills they covered. Outcroppings of bedrock jutted out of the ground like the buried bones of some vast creature, and he was sure that more than one had a cave hidden in their rocks. No doubt where the bandits were hiding. Making a clicking sound with his tongue, his horse began moving forward, entering the terrain.

We were shown to our rooms, separate but on the same corridor. They were obviously used only rarely, but they were still much grander than the rooms in our citadel in Arleta. What few belongings I had were by the writing desk, all contained in a single bag; bringing more things would only have made our journey harder.
"My lady," A servant said from the door, "You are Miss. Vallyle, yes?" I nodded, and she handed me a letter, quickly bowing and leaving afterwards. It was common, in human lands, to be a lord to the commoners, and a commoner to the lords, neither group seeing themselves as on the same level as us.

After he finished smoking his pipe Skuu slid it back into one of his pouches and started heading back for the tavern.  After having a few more ales and some words with his men, telling them they'll be heading back out in the morning, he headed upstairs to his room.  It wasn't anything special, but it was better than any of the legion's barracks.  There was was a bath already drawn for him and Skuu was eager to wash the smell of rotten flesh away.

After bathing, Skuu went to lay in his bed, trying to sleep the best he could.

Delvar groaned as he and few other dwarves gathered around to strategize. In this exercise two teams must act as defender and attacker. A smaller, original team must defend against the other with the advantage of a stronghold. While the larger team receives extra men, other recruits in idle teams, to accommodate the larger force necessary. This ensures all recruits are adaptable to new teams, also providing second chances should they fall behind in performance due to team disagreement/malfunction. Delvar has switched between several teams already, his latest is the longest he's been in one.

This time Delvar's team was defending. He didn't care for this much, as there was little chance of success. Only because his team had recently been made. They were band of misfits that, to the Master Recruiter's belief, could make a fine team of Legionnaires. No one else shared this hope however. Each member had their own reputation for their inability to cooperate. There was Thenidas Goldsmelter, known for his cowardice. Eurika Rock-Thrower, known for her dislike of authority. Dain Heavy-Hand, known for his aggression and glory hunting. (Much like that of Delvar).

However there was hope for this group of ne'er-do-wells. The Master Recruiter, one Klien Stonemight, knew how to build trust and respect where there was none. He had done this many a year, his experience undeniable, his resolve and patience unquestionable. Before the end of training this team would not only trust each other with their lives, but perform well above the standards of the Legionnaires.

Leokul lay in his bed, waiting for sleep to come to him. He focused on the air around him, looking for the slight tears that led to the other realities. At last, he found one near his door. He practised opening and closing it. He never took the portal bigger than a cat flap however.

Probably best not to bring a demon into the house with the Paladins here, he deemed. However, the exercise didn't tire him out, it just made him want to get this business over with even more. He gave a long sigh and stood up, opening his door and walking across the hall. He entered the Paladins room without knocking however. It was his house after all and he'd never agreed to them even staying here.

The tavern was quiet. The barmaids quieter. Megill sat, alone, in an almost entirely empty tavern; like all those like it, this tavern, alone on a long winding road, intended to keep travellers safe, has been losing any and all business. The room was practically not even furbished, with only a few tables and chairs, the rest having been sold off to accommodate the needs of the tavern. Megill set down his cup, letting out a long, low breath. He looked to his helmet, sitting on the table, staring emptily back to him. He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair, groaning angrily, and pulling out a single hair. He smiled as he saw it was white.

"I suppose that's the stress finally hitting me."

The Elf stood up, taking his helm under his arm. He'd been made to leave his weapon at the door, and though he didn't like it, he didn't care. He knew this road was a dangerous one, but it wasn't known for people smart enough to grab a good weapon when they saw it. He dropped a few coins on the counter, as well as a tip, before silently making his exit. He pulled his helmet up, the chainmail sheet laying around his chest and shoulders, before grabbing his spear. It worked as a walking stick at this point, and it at least was easier than trying to carry it on his back. Megill made his way down the road, alone, in the dark of the night. His feet were the only things making sound. He pulled a single rolled up piece of parchment up, after it had been so long tied to his weapons hilt.

"Not long now. Maynas should be just through this forest."

I turned as I heard the door open, adjusting the bottom of my shirt, having only just put it on. I had been changing out of my armour, but my lower half was still in armour. The man in the door matched the description of the lord of this house, so I responded as I'd been told to when facing a human lord.
"M'lord," I said, bowing, "Initiate Sindara Vallyle, at your service."

It wasn't easy, finding the bandit camp. The better part of two hours dragged on by before Marcus was able to find it, spotting it at a distance nestled in the largest of the rocky outcroppings. Walls of rocks and mortar hid the camp among the dull gray stone around them, and a large tent stretched above between the rocks. Tethering his horse, Marcus trekked to the rocky wall, closing the gap of land between.

There was no motion, no sign of guards or watchmen.....that he could see at least. Ever cautious, he readied a shield spell, if any an arrow was loosed on him. When he was but a hundred feet from the wall, he shouted in a booming voice "HAIL MURDEROUS THIEVES!"

Leokul gave the initiate a glance over.

"Brilliant. Where's your....handler."

The effect was more or less immediate. It wasn't a play, no one was in their position waiting for their cue. It took a few seconds before the first bandit poked their head over the wall, holding a longbow. Then their comrades joined them, either side of the gate at the walls center. "And who are you to walk into the lion's den?" the archer shouted back. Marcus drew his sword, staring down the bandits on the wall. "I am Marcus Aurelius, and I seek a member of your troupe by the name of Wulfric. Not two months ago he killed a man in cold blood, and there's a bounty on his head I aim to collect. So I have nor seek a quarrel with you and the rest of your kin, so if you surrender him to me, I shall leave you in peace."

There was silence for a moment, before the gates opened and a single bandit walked out, clad in heavy armor and no doubt the leader. "And what do we have," he said in a deep voice, "to fear from you? A lone bounty hunter, foolish enough to walk to our doorstep where we are strongest. And we do not give up our own, hunter." Marcus was unfazed as he stared down the bandit chief, the man's face hidden behind the plate of his horned helm. All he could see was the glint of his eyes, glaring back at him with obvious bloodlust. "Then it appears we are at an impasse," Marcus said. "Though if I must slaughter my way to Wulfric, I shall have no qualms about walking over your corpse."

Cackling at that, the Chief drew his weapon, a hefty warhammer with a flat head on side and a vicious spike on the other. "You assume too much hunter. But I admire your bravery......a challenge then? I am the strongest among us, and if you challenge my kin then you challenge me. Single combat here and now, you and I. When I win, well......you will be dead. Slay me, and Wulfric is yours."

"My... handler?" I repeated, confused at what the lord meant, before realising that he meant my superior. "Knight-Commander Caelin is in the room opposite this one, m'lord," I said, "I believe he wishes to speak to you, as well."

Leokul turned and left the room, crossing and entering the opposite room.

"Knight Commander, is it?"

"Knight-Commander Caelin, at your service, sir." He said, holding his hand out for the lord to shake. "My charge and I thank you for your hospitality."

Leokul looked at the hand.

"Save it. I don't know why you're here and I don't like it. I don't like that the Council are using my house without my approval, even if I am supposed to be out of town."

The Knight-Commander lowered his hand, scowling at the lord.
"I see. Perhaps we should discuss that magical tremor I felt earlier, my lord. I could even write a letter to the Head-Paladin. I'm sure he and his inquisitors would love to investigate such dangerous magic, and I doubt that your king would object." Caelin folded his arms, locking eyes with the human. "Or perhaps you'd like to keep this civil, and we can discuss this like adults."

Sword in hand, Marcus could only stare and say "Very well then. At the drop of a rag then, or just when you feel like it?" Snorting, the bandit let out a challenging bellow and charged, hammer at the ready. Marcus held his ground, and reached for his magic. Right as the bandit swung the hammer forward, instead of hitting Marcus, it hit the barrier of energy that formed between them. It didn't quite save Marcus from the impact, the force of it simply mitigated and pushing him back slightly.

"Paladin. I do not fear your order. Should you write such a letter, you would come back and find this town locked and heavily fortified with creatures that even your order cannot defeat. I keep things under control for the sake of my people, but do not dare to threaten me or their safety."

Leokul walked past him to the window.

"I want you and your apprentice gone by sunrise."

"You should fear our order, human. I am well within my right to kill you for consorting with demons, and even moreso for threatening war with us. We'll be gone by midday tomorrow. No later." Caelin's eyes followed the human as he walked to the window.

"I dare you to try."

Leokul walked back to the door.

"Sunrise. Or you'll not leave at all."

He exited the room and explored looking for his handmaiden. He found her and gave her instructions before wrapping his cloak around himself and leaving the house. He stormed towards the council chambers.

When the hammer struck the barrier, it was knocked back in the backlash, giving Marcus an opening. He thrust his sword forward, the point aimed for the bandit's armpit where the plated armor gave no protection. But he underestimated how quickly his opponent could react, and at the last moment the bandit turned, the blade's tip clanging off the steel of his breastplate.

"I'd like to see you try." Caelin quipped as the human left his room. After a few minutes had passed, he finished and signed the letter he had been writing on the desk, before sealing it with a gold coloured wax and stamping it with his own insignia. Once done, he entered Sindara's room.

"Rest for tonight," He said, "But should anyone offer you food or water, politely decline. That lord is nothing more than a spoiled brat who plays with demons. He can't see past his own ego, and I wouldn't disbelieve it if he tried to have us killed."

"I see, sir," I answered, "Should we arrest him?" I asked.
"Not yet. He has soldiers, we are only two people. The order may deem it fit to send a batallion, but that isn't for me to decide. We are here for Necromancers, not pampered Sorcerers."

Leokul marched into the council chambers, shrugging off his cloak. The council was gathered and discussing something about taxes. He stopped at the centre of the round room, facing the high council in front of him, with the rest around the walls.

"And who gave you permission to invite such filth into MY town? To allow them to stay in MY house?"

Leokul all but shouted at the council, circling on the spot.

"My lord! You're back!"

"If you paid attention to more than your own petty squabbles, you would have noticed my return three weeks ago. I have allowed you rule over my province and people for far too long. This council is nothing more than a bunch of lecherous old men."

"My lord?"

"QUIET! I did not give any of you leave to speak. This council is over. You are all dismissed. And for your failures and the failures that my people have suffered from your actions, you all have a debt to pay to this province."

His attack failing, Marcus stepped back to avoid the swing of the hammer, the weapon narrowly missing him by an inch. If a strike with the sword would not work, then he would need to use his magic. Calling on fire, he thrust his hand forward and set a gout of fire on the bandit. There was no time for him to react, only to scream as the flames engulfed him. The armor may have protected him from sword spear and hammer, but in the fire all it did was trap him.

As the steel plate heated up, it burned and scalded his skin. Where the glowing red plate did not cover him, the flames licked at naked skin and charred it a seared black. He screamed in agony as the flames ate him and his armor trapped him, slapping at the fire to no avail until finally the man fell down, dead and burned, smoke rising from his corpse and an uncomfortable smell of cooking meat filling the air.

"I see, sir," I replied, "Do you think the inquisitors will get involved?" I asked. The Inquisitors were not like other Paladins. They operated with a different code; where a Knight was merciful, an Inquisitor was ruthless. Where a Knight would afford their enemy an honourable death, an Inquisitor would have them assassinated. I offered prayers to anyone who attracted their ire, for every shadow would hide death for the rest of your life, however short it had become.
"The Inquisitors might take over, seeing as this isn't just some lone Necromancer in a cave. A full-scale attack on these walls would lead to innocent deaths. Our code is that of honour and mercy, but sometimes we can't have both. Remember that, Sindara."

He left my room after that, returning to his own to continue his own affairs.

Apart from the crackle of the flames as they ate away at the body, there was silence in the air, not a word or sound made from the line of bandits watching on the wall. Several of their number vanished for a moment, before the sound of a struggle could be heard on the other side of the wall, and they shoved out a rather panicked looking Wulfric. He was a man perhaps three years under Marcus, with his long brown hair unkempt and messy and a beard to match. Gates closed behind him, leaving him alone with Marcus, who casually strode toward him around the corpse of the fallen bandit.

"Well then Wulfric, it seems there is little honor among murderers and thieves, save for that of the man I've killed," Marcus said. "It's unfortunate for you, that the bounty on your head read dead or alive, with payment remaining the same no matter what."

The council looked around uneasily until the Chancellor stood up.

"My lord. You cannot just simply dismiss this council on your whim. There are a certain number of prep-"

"ENOUGH."

Leokul twisted the rip behind the chancellors chair and opened it fully. He whistled and the demons came spilling through. Twisted wolf like creatures, their skin half ripped off and burning from within. They set about the council in a grand massacre. The screams filled the air and Leokul was thankful for the soundproof walls his father had had installed here long ago.

I felt cold and I looked up from unstrapping my boot. My heart was pounding; this was a feeling I'd only ever been shown in safe conditions back at the citadel. I had only ever faced demons in practice; never a life and death fight. Recovering from my momentary fear, I recited a battle prayer in my head, as I pulled each piece of armour back on. It took me less time to strap each plate back on than it had taken removing them, but the need was much greater. I clipped my cloak on, along with my belt, which held a dagger, my curved elven sword, Sha'ele, and several pouches carrying my essentials, and hefted my shield onto my arm.

Caelin was already waiting in the hallway, his sword sheathed.
"We need to hurry. I would've preferred the Inquisitors deal with him, but our hand has been forced. Stay close, Sindara."

Leokul watched the last councillor as he died.

"And now you've all paid your debt."

He ordered the wolves back inside the portal and walked over to it. He did not doubt that his actions would have alerted the Paladins, but he'd at least offer them the chance to walk away from this. He leaned his head through the portal and waved at a creature in the distance before turning to face the door to the chamber. He stood behind the great podium and waited.

Before Wulfric had time to contemplate what Marcus meant, the sword was already run through him. His expression was one of shock, open mouthed and gasping as the steel-blade was embedded in him, blood rushing out from both holes. Marcus twisted the blade once, twice, three times until Wulfric died, the light in his eyes gone and his breathing stopped. Pulling his sword out of the corpse, Marcus flicked it a few times to rid it of the blood before sheathing the blade, and stooped down to pull off the ring Wulfric bore on his right hand. A silver band capped with a dark emerald gem, the ring belonged not to Wulfric, but the man he killed for it.

It bore the noble's crest, and would be proof of the deed done today. Pocketing the ring, Marcus did not look back at the bandits on the wall as he walked off, half-expecting an arrow to enter his back. As it was.....not a one was loosed.