A Queen’s Plea • Part I

Soon, too soon, after the cruel death of her mother, the young Malrah Ishtar inherited the title of Queen. The beautiful elven capital, Amsya, believed in a tradition of grace, light, and motherly love for they never appointed males to the throne. She was only a little girl as she was decorated in glistening white cloths, lily flowers braided into her long silver hair, and stood in front of her people. Her older brothers, Lylan and Teon, had warned her to keep her tears hidden while the High Priest dressed her with a sunlit tiara, sign of her royalty.

Malrah could not really rule yet; it became her brothers’ responsibility until she came of age. As she grew up, she showed a taste for adventure. She spent much time in the woods, and hid her face with a veil to travel the city. She hated the palace, and her brothers’ demands only pushed her away. No other teen she met in the city had to suffer so many duties… She often ran off to lose herself in the wild. Malrah, Queen of Amsya, was everything but interested in leading.

One day she had not returned home, her eldest brother Lylan decided to look for her, filled with worries, as a recent war had transformed the surroundings into dangerous traps. Unfortunately, as he was calling for her in the woods, he met with a group of brigands. Humans who thought the war was an opportunity to steal and attack voyagers, leaving a trail of corpses behind them, to be blamed on the rivalries of nations. He defended his honour as best as he could, but was overcome by their number and murdered brutally merely for the sake of killing.

Upon her return the day after, Malrah met Teon’s enraged gaze. Since none of his siblings had returned for the night, he had ordered some scouts to form a search party. The news of Lylan’s death hit him at the break of dawn. He had been suffering alone for hours when Malrah stepped inside, happy and carefree. His anger exploded:

“How can you smile, you stupid girl? Don’t you ever understand the results of your actions? You know nothing, mother’s death, and now Lylan… You only bring about troubles… Get out of my sight, you unaware idiot.”

Malrah, completely crushed by her brother’s attitude, walked away and disappeared into her room. A few hours later, a maid brought her food and explained how her eldest brother had passed while looking for her in the woods. Malrah tried her best to keep calm at the news. As soon as the door closed, she locked herself in and began to cry loudly. She refused her meals and would not open the door a whole week long. Teon attempted to apologize now and again, but the young lady would push him away every single time. One night, she set her mind on running away. Her mind kept her imprisoned in solid walls of distress. She could not bear to think how her presence only caused troubles, she would leave, far, for a long time, and if her path crossed with death, she would only invite it gladly.

The moon shone high, Malrah Ishtar had left the Amsyan Kingdom.

The Blind Mage and the Elven Princess • Part II

Flustered with surprise

She can only nod slightly

And offers her delicate palm

She reaches to join hers with his

With a shiver, they blend hands

The rain falls musically

With each drop, a beat, a sound

Flowing into a loving melody

The waltz begins, the wind rises

One-two-three, oom-pah-pah

And as time flows

And with eyes closed

As the sonata of water

Embraces their hearts

In a murmur, he says:

“I still like the rain.”

A feeble smile, she agrees

With a squeeze of her fingers

She senses a wave of emotions

Fear, nostalgia, sadness, remembrance

In a second, she is overwhelmed

With visions of war and death

And a sky of burgundy falling to earth

“What horrors have you seen?”

Her voice trembles, she knows not

If his heart felt hers too

The man’s grip softens

As if he attempted to let go

But the blind mage holds on

Like a child to a mother

A few steps slower

He immobilizes his legs

Bare feet dig into muddy grass

And a salty raindrop reaches

The young princess’ cheek

Screeching silence

Fills her ears

Quietly, he lifts his head to the sky

In a prayer, he opens his blind eyes

As if he could feel the last rays

Of evening pierce the grey

“I am not from here.” He tells.

“My world is far gone,

And my soul has already perished.

My sole purpose here is to repent.”

A short pause, as the clouds clear

A runaway and a guilty spirit

What world would bring together

The hope of living and the wish of death

“I still like the rain.” She says

“When my heart is astray, every droplet

Remind my body with their cold touch

About the gift of this moment.”

She caresses the man face delicately

“So does the warmth of your skin.”

“I still like the rain.” He repeats

A new music resonates through his core

In a thankful smile, he renews his offer

And with elegance, the pace returns

There is no need for idle thoughts

Because they are now

The dancers in the rain.

Unfettered - Part 8 - Purity

Traveling across the Savannah planes of Ogrimar was far easier than Bryne expected. Lorey taught him the basics of riding in less than a week. He'd affectionately named his stallion 'Koter', amusingly keeping the translation to himself. Along with Wrog, Hunter received some sort of medallion from the Trine. At each settlement they passed, they only needed to flash it to receive supplies, a place to rest, or directions. No questions were asked. They traveled well over twelve hours a day, keeping a quick pace.

In less than a week, they'd crossed the entire continent and found themselves at the western coast. News at the small port was quite interesting; Apparently, they'd been ambushed out of nowhere, killing a guard on duty. The day following the ambush, after word of a prison break reached them, a few other guards found tracks towards the eastern mountains, and attempted to follow the escapees. Whoever they were, they were hardly careful about covering tracks. Lorey deciphered in a minute's time that a party of roughly 6 had passed through, including a songwolf and at least one heavily armored fighter.

For a while, Hunter was torn between following the orders bequeathed by the Trine itself, or risking it all pursuing the assailants. It was unheard of to discard an order from the Trine; An orc would sooner file off its teeth or feed their dismembered leg to a warthog. Thus, It was agreed that the group would split; Bryne and Hunter would take a ferry to the prison island, while Lorey and Fallon followed the tracks northeast in hopes of heading off the assailants. Any plans of reconvening or communicating went unspoken; Bryne assumed the group had already made such arrangements before he ever came along.

Boarding the orcish ferry, Bryne found himself at sea for the second time in his life, albeit briefly. Less than an hour, just short of arriving at the island's dock, Hunter finally confessed to Bryne the true importance and severity behind the Trine's mission; The island was a largely secret affair, even among the Highborn. This unassuming, inconspicuous speck of land was where the Highborn kept prisoners that were meant to disappear. It was an oubliette, run by a particularly cruel family, who happily tortured their own kind. As he'd mentioned before, however, the prison had a special 'guest'; An elf of noble birth, who could summon the elements in the form of a powerful serpent. It was an elf that he'd heard Bryne speak of many times before, an elven princess named Mylleile.

The orcs had captured a water-elf noble, entirely neutral to the war, tortured her, broken her, and condemned her to an impending death. As they docked, Hunter explained in great detail how such a farce jeopardized their relations to elvenkind, potentially swinging the war in the Commonwealth's favor. They met with a pair of hoblins, whom Hunter began to interrogate. They left to investigate the prison itself. Bryne stayed at the dock, sitting at the pier. He stared into the quiet sea below.

When Hunter finally returned, a bit more pale in the face than before, Bryne woke from his slumber and wiped the frozen tears from his eyes. The ferry would return shortly after, returning the two to Ogrimar proper.

Breaking the silence, Bryne announced he'd no longer follow Hunter on his path. Hunter simply nodded, and told Bryne he'd wish the dwarf well. "You wouldn't want to follow the monsters that did this, anyways," Hunter added. Bryne asked no details; If something troubled Hunter, even more so than the scenes of demonic slaughter they'd already witnessed, then Bryne wished no part of it. He'd changed his mind since their hunt began. When Hunter asked where the dwarf would go, Bryne simply replied he did not know yet. The first thing he wanted to do is rid himself of these humiliating tattoos. At that, Hunter laughed, and handed Bryne a small vial of liquid. It smelled like a tasty tonic, but was viscous and burned when touched. "I've been saving that for when Lorey finally decided to leave," Hunter stated plainly. "You seem to need it more."

When they arrived back at the mainland dock, Hunter immediately gathered his affairs and headed east. Neither Lorey nor Fallon were to be found. The orc securing his ferry and the few remaining guards all just ignored the dwarf. Bryne gathered his supplies, his steed Koter, and simply let the beast wander where it willed while Bryne sat in thought. Caught between brooding and meditative, he drifted north.

For the first time in too long, Bryne listened inwardly for guidance.

Hugging this side of the western mountains meant he'd eventually reach a rough terrain, full of maze-like paths and sheer cliffs. His steed would eventually be unable to follow Bryne's travel, so he stopped at the mountains' base. There, he used a scrap of parchment and a half-full inkwell to write a note in the best orcish he could manage. This, he placed in one of the stallion's saddlebags, along with a few coins, and sent the beast on his way. Bryne turned around, and began his hike up the mountain alone. Koter was no more; The 'mutt' was now 'free'.

The note read: "This is my steed, a beast from the stables of Blackstone itself. His back is strong, and his hooves have gone far. Treat Freiheit well."

Unfettered - Part 6 - The unwanted and unforgotten

As Bryne traveled with his three new companions, he began to learn their stories.

Hunter, the orcish inquisitor with patchy skin, was actually not a full-blooded Highborn at all. Shunned by his race, the half-orc spent most of his youth proving himself to his more brutish cousins.  Entering the military theocracy as an inquisitor was more a means to an end, than a calling; He was hoping that divine magic could permanently erase the feeble human blood in his veins. Now, he wanders the harsh terrain of Ogrimar as a bounty hunter for the Trine (A name for the closest things Highborn had to a clergy; A quasi-military group of paladins). Bryne asked if such a past meant Hunter was more open-minded towards non-orcs. Hunter didn't reply. When they made camp that evening, Bryne noticed the half-orc mumbling some words to himself while smashing a log with his flail. Bryne didn't ask anything more of the inquisitor after that.

The human was named Lorey. When they'd found a small river to bathe in, Bryne noticed that Lorey's tattoo extended far further than the marks on his back and neck; From head to toe, Lorey was wholly smudged with black ink, intricate patterns in some areas, and clouds of darkness in others. Lorey was also far more talkative than the others, but only when they were at rest. His past was that of a human defector; Working as a regional adviser to troops near the border, Lorey was sick of a war he saw as petty, and decided to sneak into Ogrimar using some hidden drow tunnels. The plan backfired in every sense, and after barely avoiding fire from the humans and a slew of undead, he managed to get himself captured and enslaved by Highborn warriors. He made a point emphasizing that he was only kept alive because of his vast knowledge. After a generous amount of torture and questioning, he was passed on to Hunter at the half-orc's request. His philosophies and outlook on life have changed since.

Bryne was taken aback by the somewhat casual mentions of torture and change. Despite Lorey's straightforward and gruff speech, he expected more a reaction. Indeed, Lorey just sat there tinkering with his crossbow, and when queried about his torture, went right on to explaining his philosophy. All people should just accept the decisions and mistakes they make, he claimed. When prodded further, Lorey just stared into Bryne's eyes and said: "Not all of us have the luxury of a peaceful place to learn and grow." That was all Bryne got out of Lorey's past.

Bryne took his time approaching the third member of the group and his potential mentor. He began to notice that both Lorey and Hunter kept their interactions with her at a minimum. Soon, however, Bryne noticed that she began to loom closer to him while they traveled. Finally, he opened a dialogue.

Fallon confirmed she was a samsaran; She was of a race that others often had trouble categorizing. Many speculated they were born of the Mysts like many of the animal-folk. Others suggested they were altered by the radiance, and thus were a type of plane-touched, like the devilish tieflings or the breeze-kissed sylphs. Others still thought they were cousins to fey, like the gnomes or songwolves. Regardless, Fallon interjected, she was a long-lived being with many reincarnations and many pasts. This left her more sympathetic to the ways of elves and dwarves than most of the other races. When asked what she was doing in Ogrimar during a seemingly endless cold war, Fallon simply shrugged and replied "I go where life leads me, simple as that."

It was a terrifying revelation to know that Fallon was actually an arcane archer in the making, a profession that should have gotten her killed on sight in Ogrimar. Only the most elite of magi from the Commonwealth were allowed to practice the art. Arcane archers, beings capable of raining death and fire from a half-mile away, were largely acknowledged as the reason humans stood a chance against orcs in the first few waves of the war. "Although," Fallon added, "That was a life ago. I cherish the memories still, but this life, I'm still only a magus". Confused Bryne inquired as to how it was possible to have the memories of an arcane archer but only know rudimentary magus techniques. This launched Fallon into a night-long monologue about the nature of memories versus skill.

Much to Bryne's disappointment, Fallon's recognition of his kinetic abilities was only partially due to personal experience, and even then, only from lives past. The rest came from the magic she employed, and her skill in interpreting the crafting and form of spellwork. She saw the way he breathed, the way his hands moved, and the way the environment shifted. To a trained eye, helped with a bit of magic, it was easy to see how he weaved such effects. Lifting her bow, she demonstrated by firing a snowball at a faraway rock using her own magic; She used the magic of the magi, tying together wizardry and armed combat. With a grin, Bryne challenged the samsaran mercenary to a contest of marksmanship, both of them launching balls of ice and snow. He lost miserably.

In Fallon, Bryne felt more at home than he'd felt in months.

So the days went; Hunter's group was surprisingly generous with their provisions, and Lorey's knowledge of the land could easily be deemed superior to that of an orc born and raised locally. When they found a village, Bryne waited outside with Fallon, while Hunter and his enslaved human questioned the locals for new leads. Haphazardly, Bryne also learned that he'd been entirely wrong about how Lorey was handled. He'd thought that when Hunter barked orders, shoved Lorey around, and occasionally striking the man, it was a sure sign of his dominant ownership; Instead, Bryne learned that this was simply the way Highborn behaved with their respected kin. Compared to treatment by the locals, the bruised human was free, protected by the law and by Hunter from the ax of an excitable orc. They got their news, and left. There was no word of any elven summoner.

When the group came across a rogue troupe of goblins, chaos erupted. Goblins, Lorey informed Bryne, were not entirely extinct; They bred fast, and were exceptionally crafty, if not enslaved and carefully monitored. As they were ambushed, Bryne wanted to show he was not defenseless in a fight. Faster than he could even react, however, Hunter's group had already ducked behind cover, and goblins unleashed a barrage of bombs and flying rocks. Bryne limped for cover, extinguishing a fire that caught his pant leg, while the others were picking goblins off left and right with bolts and arrows. The goblins had no choice but to flee or charge. They chose to charge, and were met with Hunter's flail. With a dazzling display of martial prowess, the half-orc knocked them all back and stood his ground. Seeing an opportunity, Bryne recovered from his wound and drew upon his powers. He pushed the limits of his abilities, drawing waters from the very earth and air. Both Lorey and Fallon warned Hunter to back away.

After a sudden drop in temperature and an audible rumble, Hunter glanced backwards to find Bryne summoning a massive ball of ice. Expecting Bryne to roll the sphere, Hunter dodged sideways to avoid its path. He'd guessed wrong; With a thunderous roar, Bryne instead threw the ice-ball into the center of the goblin horde, who had but seconds to react. The ball exploded like a grenade, mimicking the goblins' bombs; Shards of ice flew like shrapnel, impaling several goblins outright and skewering the ones behind. Hunter, with no shield or cover, was pierced threw his abdomen and thigh.

After the battle, Bryne offered to mend Hunter's wounds, but was denied. Both Lorey and Hunter had similar magic, and had no use of his aid. Expecting a soured partnership, Bryne prepared to part from the group and be left to himself. Instead, he was met with respect, and a subtle warning that if he attempted such a feat again, Hunter would happily knock his teeth in. Lorey made no such threat verbally, but Bryne caught himself in the human's crosshairs several times.

Several more weeks passed. Bryne remarked that it'd soon be a year since he left Dweimdomus. Though seasons rarely diverged from the usual dry or wet in Ogrimar, he imagined there'd be good amounts of snowfall back home. The group continued to hug the western mountains, then the southern coast, in their travels. They found yet another town that'd been slaughtered by Hunter's elusive prey. This time, they needed to cover their faces with a cloth; Each and every victim had a stench so rancid, it was as if their innards had dissolved into pure decay. As Bryne overturned a body, and discovered hundreds of maggots swarming from their home, he pondered on the fates of Mylleile and the Honeyfin clan.

According to Hunter, his prey was some variation of demon, or a cultist capable of summoning them. However, he found no tracks to trace. Both Lorey and Fallon debated and argued what magic was in use, if at all, or what supernatural abilities were at play, if any. Bryne instead knelt down, and stared at the empty eyes of the deceased. He saw the purity of death.

"Daemons are far less popular among summoners," Lorey bickered, "But they're the best fit; None of the towns suffered the wanton destruction of demons." "I'm telling you, it's a witch or someone practicing their craft," Fallon retorted. "I've seen similar before. Some can even harness the souls for rituals." "There're no signs of a ritual, no circles, no binding spells," stated Hunter. "This was done for the sake of killing. But Daemons wouldn't just pop into this plane, and target random towns."

"Maybe they just needed to kill," Bryne chimed in. Still kneeling down, he froze to death all the insects he saw. "Maybe it's a compulsion for them. Not just a ritual, or a cause. maybe they just want everything to stop moving."

Hunter stared silently at Bryne for a moment, and stated matter-of-factly "Like a demon or daemon." The group continued bickering.

The day came and went, like any other. No further clues were found, as per the usual. Any and all divination used yielded little more than what they already knew. It was eventually decided by Hunter that the loss of life was too great for the Highborn to ignore. They needed to report their findings directly to the Trine.

Life Messenger • Part IV • Preparation

Preparation

About a week before school was scheduled to start, Shizuka brought her younger brother to the town’s shopping district to purchase all his supplies. As uniforms were also mandatory when he was a student of the Chinese school system, he was not phased by the rather lengthy process of buying his new school set. ShengJi was, as the tailor would repeat, a frail boy.

“Much too small for an eight-years-old…” the professional muttered with his measuring between his teeth, while both his hands were directing the boys’ arms to open. “You need to eat more, boy.”

He scribbled notes on the boy’s size and typed in a few numbers on the computer. A printed copy of the order came out with buzzing sound, which the tailor handed to Shizuka. She paid the deposit and was instructed to come back in about three days, to retrieve the goods. She smiled and thanked the tailor with a grateful bow, placed her hands softly on her brother’s back, and walked out while checking an item of a paper piece from her pocket.

It was still early when they arrive at the stationery store. Shizuka was following a strict order in amassing all the required elements, while ShengJi was exploring the aisles. He wandered into the library section, where he spotted almost instantly the reference and encyclopedia section. He left an invisible trail behind him, as he felt the brand new glossy book covers with his hand. After a few minutes, he located a large illustrated book on wild plants that he pulled out of the shelf almost instantly. He rushed back to his sister, his hands full with only that huge brick, and begged her to keep it. Shizuka was no stranger to her sibling’s passion for plants, after all, it ran in the family. Her mother instructed her on all the grounds keeping there was to their home garden, and she obliged happily. She smiled and picked up the heavy package from ShengJi. His eyes gleamed with eagerness.

It was nearing noon when they finished their business in town. Shizuka drove them back to the house, where the nurse was concluding her visit. They met on the doorstep. Shizuka inquired, as usual, about her mother’s health. The nurse looked down a few seconds, and she finally declared:

“I’m afraid her state has deteriorated. I would not know how to explain this… it is as if she was losing parts of her spirit every day… The illness isn’t spreading, as far as I can see, but she is not bettering either.”

ShengJi had heard most of the conversation, but did not quite grasp its urgency. He could only tell his mother was unwell. He threw his shoes behind him and quickly ran upstairs to see her. A light breeze was coming through a cracked window; the rose silky curtains were floating in mid air. Nadeshiko stared blankly at the azure noon sky. Her face seemed whiter than he remembered. ShengJi approached his mother’s bedside and placed his hand on her forehead.

Nadeshiko shivered as a melancholic smile showed. “Shuji-chan. My boy…” 

Life Messenger • Part III • Routine

Routine

Days went by peacefully. All of ShengJi’s fears of leaving his father’s motherland were vanishing. A well-oiled routine was in place, contributing greatly to the little boy’s sense of security. If there was one aspect of his life in Shanghai that he did not like, it was his father restless schedule. Never knowing if his father would be present for his birthday, or simply for dinner, filled the boy an early taste of loneliness.

Every morning, Shizuka cooked a traditional Japanese breakfast. The smell of rice and miso filled up the house and everyone waited patiently for the cooker’s usual ring (a simplified version of Kira Kira Boshi), indicating that the meal was ready. Right before lunch, a nurse would visit and run the usual tests on Nadeshiko. The verdict was always the same: “Her condition is not getting better or worst. She needs rest. Keep from overworking the body. As long as she is stable, you can hope for a few more weeks…”

In the afternoon, Shizuka went to school. ShengJi was lectured almost every single day, at precisely 12:25 p.m., or right before Shizuka’s bus, that he had to stay quiet and let his mother sleep. Whenever she did, she’d always have this strange look in her eyes, as if she was worried about something bad happening. Nevertheless, when he was alone with his mother, ShengJi spent most of his time in her room. Nadeshiko told him stories about warriors of the ancient eras, travellers and inventors, but she would also tell the boy about plants, flowers, their life and virtues. She sometimes fell asleep as she was talking.

When slumber took over his mother, ShengJi left to play in the garden or in the park near the house. He was truly fascinated by the unique shapes of leaves, blooming colours, and variety of scents. In a way that he couldn’t explain, he felt deeply connected to nature. Sometimes, he simply placed his hand on a tree trunk and sensed energy flowing from his fingertips to his whole body. His favourite tree stood gracefully in front of the house; a mature weeping willow.

Whenever possible, he found a new plant and collected a piece to lay delicately between the pages of an old encyclopedia. The day after, he showed his mother and asked more about his new treasure. ShengJi loved how his mother brightened up whenever she was observing or describing what was, in her words, “nature’s greatest gift.”

Shizuka came back home around 5 p.m. and always went straight to the kitchen for dinner preparation. ShengJi helped out setting the table; his sister always complimented the way he placed every piece perfectly aligned with each other, which made the boy quite proud of himself. At dinner, Shizuka often inquired about her mother’s health and asked if ShengJi had been nice.

A few weeks went by following the same scenario. Spring was growing with flowers shoots and vivid trees. The beginning of April announced important changes for ShengJi: the beginning of a new school year.

Unfettered - Part 5 - A Hunter and their prey

It took three days before Bryne found a nearby settlement. His groin was exceptionally sore. On the first day, his noble steed began to wheeze. His mare veered from where he wished, shook her head, and in one instance, nearly bucked him off. He could only empathize with her unhappiness of having an inexperienced rider, that mounted an ox to practice. That experience wasn't so pleasant either. The next day was worse. On the third morning, he'd discovered insects in his pockets, devouring his carefully packaged food with their large mandibles. His mare had broken free from where he tied her up. He spent several hours attempting to track her, only to find pieces of her tack on the ground, and a trail of blood. By nightfall on chance, he spotted smoke on the horizon and followed it.

On the fourth morning, hungry and cold, Bryne stumbled into the orcish settlement of Umnark.

A small town, Umnark only prospered due to its proximity to a somewhat large array of hills and the resulting runoff that fed their crops. Not quite close enough to the Western Mountains, where they might mine ores or enslave a dwindling population of goblins, nor far enough inland to be completely safe from human attacks, Umnark was a small town with only two exports: warriors and meat. Enclosed by a palisade and protruding spikes, Bryne approached its open and seemingly unguarded gate. He was met with the strike a flail, straight into his chest, knocking him to the ground and winding him. From behind the wall emerged an orcish warrior.

"Who goes there?!" the warrior barked. Bryne briefly checks his chest, making sure his chainmail was largely undamaged (and his sternum still intact), and got back up. Not just anybody could knock over a sure-footed dwarf. "I am Bryne Slagheart, a wanderer-" Bryne barely began, before the orc interrupted.  "Show your mark!" This time, the warrior pointed a sturdy looking composite bow at Bryne. From a human, that arrow would be another bruise. From an orc, it would impale his armor, both front and back. Begrudgingly, Bryne turned around, lifted his hair, and showed the back of his neck. It was enough to pass.

The warrior he met, as he quickly learned, was named Hunter. He wasn't just an ordinary soldier either; the emblem of the orcist faith marked on his chest meant he was a true Inquisitor, a lesser paladin of the orcish military. Bryne wondered why an orc would be so talkative with an utter stranger, let alone a dwarf. With a gesture, Bryne pointed to the rest of the town. It was only then Bryne noticed and understood:

Umnark was empty.

Bryne questioned where the smoke had come from. Hunter pointed to the smoldering remains of the largest home in the town. Bryne noticed a foul stench in the air. Hunter only responded "You'd best not go near there" and left it at that with a grunt, before walking off towards another nearby home. Bryne noticed something strange about the hue of Hunter's skin, seeing a patch of strangely beige colored flesh amid the true green. As Bryne attempted to catch up to the inquisitor, he was quickly met with more unseen company. Two projectiles, he could only assume were arrows, whizzed directly in front of Bryne's face. In panic, Bryne summoned up his elemental forces; Droplets of moisture rocks, small unattended items, all began to rise from the earth as the temperature plummeted, creating an accompanying wind. When Hunter paused in his tracks, Bryne realized he'd made a terrible mistake.

Two more figures emerged from nearby houses. One was most definitely a human male, dressed all too similarly to Bryne; He too showed tattoos running up and down his flesh. The other was a female, neither orc nor human, but instead boasting solid white eyes and pale blue skin. in the heat of the moment, Bryne couldn't recall at all what she might be, or her abilities. The male pointed a small hand crossbow at Bryne's head, while the female boasted a similar bow to Hunter's. Bryne broke his concentration immediately, and raised his empty hands in surrender.

"You boast magic?" Hunter spoke. Bryne simply nodded, his eyes attempting to read each of them. Bryne nods to both his apparent associates. Both muttered some occult words, while Bryne braced for the worst.

In a matter of seconds, both associates began to rattle off information for their orcish leader; Their knowledge would utterly boggle Bryne. The human listed Bryne's likely recent history, everything about dwarf culture that would have been remotely relevant, and even the exact caravan (belonging to the Honeyfin family) that brought him here. It was surprising, of course, but far less interesting to Bryne in comparison to what his partner relayed.

The female samsaran (He'd had the time to recall, at this point; A strange race of reincarnating humanoids.) began to rattle off everything with regards to Bryne's abilities. "A kineticist," she began, "can channel directly from planes of the inner sphere for spell-like effects and offensive techniques." She listed, in accurate words, exactly what Bryne felt; She spoke of how he gathered powers associated with his element from around him, how he'd also weave strands of aether to perform telekinesis. She narrowed down his likely abilities to a tee. Then she began to list his every vulnerability, even things he hadn't known. Effective ways to break his concentration. What to do to subdue his power, and tells that he was about to use them. At this, Bryne fell to his knees, and grinned. He'd found a mentor. She was pointing an arrow at his face.

Satisfied with her explanation, Hunter gestured for Bryne to stand. He announced simple, "you did not do this," and turned his back. Confused, Bryne began to question the lot of them exactly what had happened in this small town. They were all surprisingly liberal with their knowledge. Bryne pondered for a moment if it had to do with an orcish belief he'd missed.

Hunter was hunting a monster- At least, he called it a monster- that had been slaughtering nearby villages wholesale in various ways. The creature(or creatures) left no tracks, nor was it ever spotted by nearby hunters or warriors, but it was most definitely intelligent. Hunter himself suspected it was some kind of demon based on its 'tastes'. One village was found with each orc beheaded, as if a creature actively yanked the skull right off with its teeth, but it left the heads upright beside each corpse.  Even outside the village walls, orc upon orc was followed, beheaded, and arranged. In another, every orc in the camp was found face down, with their face caved and bones shattered as if they'd fallen from a great height. In another, every victim was found with a horrified expression, reeking of necromantic energies, and arranged in a circle. In yet another, and the village that assured Hunter that Bryne was indeed not the culprit, every victim was found dead at the hands of their fellow orcs as if in a mass hysteria. The theoretical survivor of this massacre knelt down in the middle of town, and eviscerated himself with a sharp rock.

All of these were orcish villages. Orcs, who could take on five humans each and then their respective families, were massacred without resistance. Hunter lowered his head in respect, then put away his shortbow.

Upon hearing the grisly tale, Bryne understood one thing for certain: He absolutely needed to find the force behind them. More important to him than any elven summoner, more still than any blue-skinned mentor. He took a deep breath, and let it out with a cloud of frigid air. His eyes went glassy, and his hands formed fists. For the briefest of moments during this epiphany, he considered freezing all three of these strangers into solid ice. He absolutely needed to find the culprit; The one that could answer his question. Humans, orcs, elves or demons; Nothing mattered at all beyond t-

Another arrow whizzed past Bryne's head, clipping his ear. "Hunter," The samsaran spoke, alerting the orc. After another brief bout, Bryne was allowed to stand, now clutching his bleeding ear and most definitely broken rib. Bryne cleared his head of the strange thoughts that took him, recalled his standing as a dwarf in orcish lands, and asked Hunter quite simply if he could follow along. When asked why, Bryne simply responded that he needed to find a certain elf.