World Without End

[Guest Katzaniel]

By now Daryl was used to seeing the shimmer that took place in front of him. Instead, he watched Kasmandre's face, which twisted for an instant into a strange mixture of fear and confusion before settling back into a more normal expression. It was wary, but once the initial shock had gone, it was much more accepting.

 

Katzaniel stood in front of him now, in full splendour. It dropped to its haunches, set down its spear, and bowed its head slightly. "If you would allow me the honour, Kasmandre, I would come with you as well."

 

To the astute listener, a short pause could be discerned just before the tigertaur pronounced the name, but the sincerity was still there. So, too, was an undertone of menace that suggested that if the honour was not to be conferred, then there had better be a good reason.

[Vlad]

OOC: Sorta disregard the post I made in the ooc thread. I'm gonna keep John around, and Vlad will be nowhere to be seen. BTW, I'm not going to wait for you to leave town to make my appearance, but you won't have to take me into the group...

 

If I happen to guess wrong on somebody's reaction then tell me and I will fix it.

 

IC: Kasmandre didn't respond at first, thinking he heard something. Or someone. He realized that if there was one assassin, there would doubtless be more. Would all of them be as good as the first? He tried to dismiss that thought, but it wouldn't leave his mind.

 

Daryl put a hand on Kasmandre's shoulder calmingly. "You can trust her," Daryl stated, mistaking his comrade's paranoia for indecision.

 

 

The city was becoming more tranquil by the minute, as the sun would soon be setting, and the citizens were getting ready to go indoors. The police were starting to give up on the search, figuring that the outlaws had left town, or commited suicide out of fear. Then another noise came by. This time not only Kasmandre heard it. As it reached the ears of lycanthropes and the Seven, they too wondered what it could be.

 

Was it a bird? Or a flying mage? No, just a man running for his life. A familiar figure ran through the streets near the tree house, and he had had quite a night, being almost naked and all. Some people were still chasing him, not the authorities, but the local angry mob. Armed with torches and pitchforks, they yelled random obscenities at their target, who was eluding them by sheer luck. Occasionally he tried to stop, and grab one of the torches to keep warm, while snow slightly covered the ground.

 

By now the man and the mob were far away from any recognizable place John had ever recognized. He was hopelessly lost. And rather lonely.

 

Getting tired from this chase, and wishing to stay alive as well, John was quickly running out of options. He couldn't fight them, the odds were clearly against him. Telling them to stop wouldn't work, most had already sacrificed a nights sleep and wouldn't consent to giving up now. As the figurative wheels in his head turned, John came up with an idea that had worked once before. Only once.

 

He suddenly stopped running, and jumped off to the side. He landed behind a rather large tree, and partly fell into an open sewer. John looked up and around, and saw no-one who could help him if he was stuck. The lynch mob ran by, not noticing him and his plight (the non-mob related one).

 

A few minutes after the trampling subsided, John slowly left his hiding place. He walked towards the nearest store, and was lucky enough to find a few coins on the ground. Most likely from the mob.

 

John bought a shnazzy new uniform, unfortunatly it made him look like a jester. Or fool, as they are sometimes known. Thinking the mob would not recognize him, John began walking around the outskirts of town.

 

(fixed)

[Guest Kasmandre]

Kasmandre looked at the other three one by one. A good group and undoubtably courageous, but who knew what they would come up against...

 

"You have my sincerest thanks for joining me," he said, "but you must believe me when I say that you don't know what you're getting yourself into. I hardly know myself. I just know that I have no choice."

 

Daryl took a seat across from Kasmandre. "Maybe you should start from the beginning."

 

Kasmandre smiled grimly. "We don't have time enough for the story from the beginning. Not if we had a month of nights. But, maybe I can start from a beginning...

 

"About six months ago, I arrived in Terra at Trelain, with my wife, Cassandra. We stayed there for two or three weeks. In that time, we heard stories of the Pen, a fortress to the east filled with writers and adventurers. It seemed like an ideal point to start our new life from.

 

"But, as we were preparing to leave, Cassandra told me that she was going to ride north first. She made me promise not to follow and she wouldn't tell me why she was going. She just told me to expect her to follow quickly or send word to me at the Pen.

 

"Months have passed without sign or word. I would have gone after her months ago except for my worry that word would come after I was gone. I simply stayed here, slowly going mad with worry.

 

"And then, last night, word came. I almost wish it hadn't.

 

"Cassandra had gone north in search of a great Wizard she had heard of in Trelain. From what she heard of him, she believed that she could restore the powers we lost when we crossed over into Terra. The Wizard took her captive. She escaped, but I don't want to imagine what she has gone through.

 

"The letter I received, she sent from Trelain. But somewhere along the way, her messenger lost the letter to the Wizard's men. Most likely, the messenger is no more.

 

"I have to go to Trelain with all haste, for I don't know how long Cassandra can keep from being discovered. Especially if her messenger was taken.

 

"This Wizard must have considerable influence if he can send assassins this far south and east of his domain. The challenges will only grow as we go toward him. And if you follow me, we will go to him. I intend to pay him back tenfold for every mark on my love."

 

Kasmandre stood. "I have a few items to gather from my rooms. If you still want to follow meet me at the western gate in an hour." Kasmandre strode out of the room, heading for the Old North Tower.

[Guest Kasmandre]

Kasmandre left the Seven's treehouse and strode quickly through the halls of the Pen. As he approached the entrance to the Old North Tower he saw a small bundle of rags in front of his door. When he got closer, he realized that it wasn't rags. It was Sheemie.

 

The little serving elf had apparently spent the night curled up in front of Kasmandre's door, wrapped up in old dust rags. Next to him, was a tray with a bowl of broth and a glass of juice, both of which were now room temperature. The sight of the tray brought home exactly how much had happened in the last twelve hours. Kasmandre stepped quietly over the prone figure of Sheemie and opened the door.

 

Apparently he wasn't quiet enough. Sheemie shot awake, leaping to his feet. "Nice man Kasmandre!!" he cried, "Sheemie is so very sorry for falling asleep waiting for nice man Kasmandre, but Sheemie so wanted to give nice man Kasmandre a new dinner to make up the one poor clumsy Sheemie runy-ruined"

 

"Sheemie, that's perfectly fine. I only just got back anyway and I'm not very hungry. I'm actually in quite a hurry, I'm going to be leaving for a while."

 

"Where's nice man Kasmandre off to?" Sheemie said, without his normal exuberance.

 

"I have to go meet someone. I'll be back in a few weeks." Kasmandre walked through the door before Sheemie could respond. He went up the winding stairs two at a time, all the way up to the top room.

 

On one of the walls, several weapons were hung Kasmandre took a short sword, a set of throwing daggers, a bow and quiver of arrows, and two bizarre-looking weapons: each was two razor sharp half-circles connected by a crossbar. These weapons he set down on his writing desk while he changed out of his normal light robes and into simple traveling clothes: a cloth shirt and loose leather breeches. Over this he belted on a swordbelt and sheathed the short sword and Raimen daggers into the proper holsters. He stuck the knives into his belt and shouldered the quiver and a saddlebag packed for traveling. Then he raced back downstairs, bow in hand.

 

When he went back through the door, he nearly ran headlong into Sheemie yet again. Except, this time, Sheemie wasn't carrying a tray. He was carrying a small bundle.

 

"Sheemie, what are you doing?"

 

"Sheemie's going to come along with nice man Kasmandre, so he is. How else will nice man Kasmandre know when to eat?"

 

The situation was so ludicrous, Kasmandre almost laughed. "Sheemie, this isn't just some little trip. It's going to be dangerous. It's not safe for you to come along."

 

Sheemie stood up straight, trying to add as much as he could to his three-foot frame. "Sheemie's not scared, so he isn't. Sheemie can go along and be nice man Kasmandre's squire, so he can. And if Sheemie can't go along with, he can follow along behind."

 

"No, Sheemie. Absolutely not. You can't come along and you're certainly not going to try to follow us. You could get hurt."

 

Sheemie looked at Kasmandre as if he wasn't understanding some simple fact. "Sheemie's not as slow as everybody thinks, so he's not. Sheemie's just not as fast as he should be. But Sheemie knows that nice man Kasmandre's going to be in danger and Sheemie doesn't want anything to happen to nice man Kasmandre. Sheemie knows that if he goes he could die, but Sheemie doesn't care, so he doesn't. Sheemie's coming."

 

Nu above forgive me, Kasmandre thought. He didn't want to put Sheemie into harm's way, but he wanted Sheemie following behind even less. "Ok, Sheemie. You can come. But you have to promise to do whatever I say, alright? And take these." Kasmandre removed the throwing knives from his belt and handed them to Sheemie. Sheemie stuck two in opposite sides of his belt and wrapped the others in his bundle. Now he looked like a ludicrous miniature of a great warrior.

 

"Sheemie will do whatever nice man Kasmandre says. Sheemie will be a good squire," Sheemie said, more of the old exuberance in his voice now that he knew he was going with Kasmandre.

 

The pair first went to the stables to get Kasmandre's horse, a gray stallion named Capi. There weren't any horses available that would fit Sheemie, so he rode double with Kasmandre for the time being.

 

Then they set off for the Pen's western gate to wait for the others.

[Gyrfalcon]

Daryl carefully stepped into Gyrfalcon’s tower on noiseless feet, careful to make sure that the door behind him closes all but silently. If the half-elf was about, Daryl didn’t particularly want to see him until the very moment he left. After all, it’s harder to stop someone if they’ve got a head start, instead of having to pack for the road.

 

Daryl quietly slipped up into his quarters and quickly began to pack, his task made simpler by the fact that he stored his travel clothes and his most useful items in a backpack rather than in dressers. This was not an indication that he felt a lack of welcome at the Pen, but rather a habit grown too strong to break from years of traveling, never setting down roots, along with having grown up as a thief.

 

Riffling through the folded traveling clothes and a thick cloak that also served as a blanket already packed in the backpack, Daryl found most of the other items he might need in his travels already inside the backpack. A set of lock picks, a small ‘burglar’s lantern’, a metal canister of oil for the lantern, a striker, and a few, as Daryl would call them, ‘surprises’ rounded out the inventory. Daryl made a mental note to stop by the kitchen and pick up some food and water as he quickly changed into another set of traveling clothes and strapped his belt around his waist, a few more pouches hanging on it containing items he might need quickly at hand- a pair of silvered daggers (which he didn’t really need, but served as warning to those who thought a lack of a visible weapon meant that the person was unarmed), a collapsible grappling hook and fifty feet of elven-woven silk cord, extremely thin yet as strong as a much thicker rope.

 

Finally, Daryl drew the cloak around his shoulders and picked up the backpack before turning towards the door. Gyrfalcon stood there with an amused twist to his mouth.

 

“I take from your sudden departure that you were involved in that scuffle down at the inn last night... and assaulting the town guards, as well.” Gyrfalcon said dryly.

 

“I couldn’t do much about the inn, Gyr- an assassin was about to kill the guy sitting next to me. I really, really didn’t want to get splashed with blood, you know?” Daryl said quickly.

 

“Heh, plus it helped you work of that foul mood you had last night, right?” Gyrfalcon said, stepping back from the door to let Daryl leave his room.

 

“Er... yeah, sort of.” Daryl said with an embarrassed chuckle, leaving the room and starting towards the kitchen.

 

“So, what about the guardsmen?” Gyrfalcon said as he fell in step beside his werefox companion.

 

“Well, I didn’t particularly want to be questioned by the guards- you know how they are, and I didn’t need to go through the endless repetition of ‘It was you, wasn’t it?” with variations on “You did it, didn’t you?” or “We know you did it, confess and save yourself some trouble.”

 

Gyrfalcon laughed and then sighed. “Yeah, people usually admit their guilt after a while... then ask what they’re guilty of, since that’s never stated before the questioning. Peredhil’s planning to reform how the guards operate soon... it’s only the fifty-seventh thing on his list to do.”

 

Daryl chuckled. “Anyway, so I left the inn. That was all fine and good, but a small cat followed me. Turns out she... or he? He, she, whatever... changes gender with at least one form. Anyway, the cat turned out to be a tigertaur named Katzaniel. So were talking a few streets over from the bar when along comes a patrol. They immediately order us to surrender. It didn’t help that I was hybrid at that point, of course. I told them ‘no’, one of them tried to shoot me with a crossbow. Things went downhill from there.”

 

Gyrfalcon frowned. “I think they’re getting way too intolerant. The Pen’s an open community to all who choose to come here, regardless of their race. To try to kill someone rather then subdue them is a problem.”

 

“You’re telling me?” Daryl said dryly.

 

Gyrfalcon smiled. “Point well taken. So, are you planning to head anywhere specific?”

 

Daryl nodded. “I’m going off with the guy who the assassin tried to kill. Apparently, his lover is in danger, and we’re riding off to save her from an evil wizard and whatnot.”

 

Gyrfalcon laughed. “Anywhere but here, no one would think riding straight into danger was a vacation. Well, you should probably take a few healing potions- magic weapons have a tendency to cause problems for you, and the wizard might have had time to enchant some of the weapons his people will use.”

 

Gyrfalcon bustled off to retrieve a few potions from the storeroom, leaving Daryl to finish placing rations in his backpack and hanging a pair of full water skins off the sides. Returning, Gyrfalcon handed Daryl a few of the expected healing potions, and also two others.

 

“The grey one is a Stoneskin potion- it’ll help if you find something big and physical. The other suppresses magic in your personal area- it’ll help if you think you’re facing off against a wizard within a few minutes.”

 

“Thanks, Gyr. I’ll see if I can find you a few toys along the way.” Daryl said with a grin as he placed the potions in several of his belt pouches.

 

Gyrfalcon grinned. “Don’t go overboard- I’d rather not have ‘Wulfhelm the Barbarian of One Drunken Brain Cell’ trying to destroy the Pen because you stole his favorite enchanted axe.”

 

Daryl grinned and gave Gyrfalcon the most innocent look possible “Who, me?” he said.

 

“Yes, you. Now get off with you!” Gyrfalcon said with a laugh.

 

Daryl grinned and gave Gyrfalcon a minimal bow before departing, moving quickly through the minimal shadows of the morning towards the stables. Quickly, he secured a mount, whose eyes widened as it caught the scent of a large predator, perched on its back. Daryl leaned forward and whispered in its ear.

 

“This can be done two ways- the easy way or the hard way. I think you should choose the easy way, because the hard way doesn’t involve you.” He delivered the statement in a tone of cold malice. What the horse didn’t know was that the hard way involved a lot of walking on Daryl’s part while the horse remained in the stable.

 

The gelding considered the words, and contented himself with bucking once before settling down, though his nervous whickers and the way his ears turned this way and that showed that he wasn’t too happy with the situation.

 

Daryl patted the horse’s neck. “Thanks.” He gently booted the animal in the sides, and the horse trotted forward, towards their meeting with the rest of the party.

[The Big Pointy One]

Usagi yanked a wrist-thick vine that was resting in a well-concealed corner of the outer balcony. Giving it a quick tug, he leapt off the balcony, swung out, then back in straight through an unusually leafy area of trunk. This hidden area was actually Usagi's room, and none but the rest of The Seven knew about it. Dropping his armour to the floor, Usagi quickly changed into some fresh garments. These consisted of loose grey leggings and an equally loose and grey undershirt. Overtop of his shirt he put on his form-fitting armour, this he covered with a black vest. He reattached his katanas to a slim red swordbelt that already had a few kunais hanging from the back. Usagi wrapped this around his waist, then flapped the vest so it was the outermost article of clothing again. He checked the inner pockets of the vest to ensure that his multitude of shurikens were in place. Satisfied, Usagi made his way over to a medium-sized cupboard and prepared a few dry rations which he placed in a small pouch that he hung from his shoulder. After taking a look around the room Usagi sat down on his futon (which was currently laid haphazardly in the middle of the room, his thin blanket bunched up messily in one corner) and unsheathed one of his katanas. Resting it on his knees he examined the craftmanship.

 

It was an exquisite thing. A blade crafted by an artisan who's skills were unmatched to this day. A blade that was over a millenium old. Still, not a scratched marred its surface, not a drop of blood stained the beautiful shine of this masterpiece, not a single piece of blade had ever chipped or dulled. There was nothing magical about this sword, it was just really well made. Usagi flashed back to how he had claimed this prize in the first place. He shook his head quickly. Now was not the time for such memories. Regardless, he didn't feel like he deserved such a wonderful piece of art in the first place, but here he was. Sliding it carefully into the sheath that ensured the blade stayed sharp, Usagi went to examine his second katana. Equal in quality and beauty (to a swordsman, at least) yet not nearly as old, Usagi couldn't help but sigh. This was a memento of his hometown. Things were much simpler back then. A single tear drop splashed onto the intricate symbol that was his town's name. Usagi had traveled far in his life, and although he had made plenty of friends and had many great times, he couldn't help but yearn for his former life.

 

His remembering was cut short however, by a sound perceptible only by his ears.

 

"..."

 

He responded. "..."

 

To most people, it'd seem as if the half rabbit and the rabbit were standing there, silent. But of course, that's because most people can't speak rabbit.

 

(OOC: I'll do everyone the favour and translate this one )

 

"So, you're going off on your own, are you?"

 

"You can tell."

 

"Yeah."

 

"I don't know if I'm going to come back on this one."

 

"Have you ever? Do we ever? No. That's what it's about. Do you think you can handle yourself out there?"

 

"I honestly don't know... I hope so."

 

"Is someone else's life on the line?"

 

"Probably."

 

"Then you better."

 

The rabbit mage known as Mr.Bunny hopped his way over to the window, nodded and left on a small flying carrot, but not before leaving his son with one last tidbit.

 

"..."

 

"Thanks dad. You too."

 

Usagi stared into his katana for a minute, wiped his face, then swung from the vine now hanging from his window to the ground. As soon as Usagi was earthbound the vine sprung back up to its resting place. Usagi closed his eyes and made his way to the gate, letting the wind be his guide. The party inquired about why he didn't have some sort of horse. He simply replied that his own two legs were good enough. They didn't even bother asking why he had packed so lightly.

 

 

OOC: Just a side note, as previously pointed out, Usagi is still over-confident and arrogant on the outside. What everyone doesn't know is how unsure he really is on the inside. Just thought I'd make that note, to avoid confusion in case someone takes liberty

[Guest Neo Madeen]

Griever ran his pale fingers through the black main of his borrowed horse coal, and gently patted the side of the beasts sturdy neck while muttering calming verses into his ear. He could see plainly that the mount was growing restless from standing in one place for so long. More then a few times the thought passed through Griever's mind to just give up waiting.

 

He had risen early, just before the break of day when the cool orange streaks merged with the dark blues and blackness of night. His traveling robes weren't any specific color, but seemed to change from white to a myriad of grays in the shadows. The air seemed dry, even for this time in the day, though a faint breeze was blowing in the arched western gate just enough to tousle about his shaggy head of gray hair.

 

Griever tapped his ashen stave Terminus on the soft earthen mud while resting is back on pair of leather saddle bags. His attention was unfocused on any one thing as he played around with a translucent mana crystal in his other free hand and stared blankly at the sickly green colored moss, dispassionately.

 

The growth covered the walls of the portcullis and rose out of view. Griever heaved a heavy sigh as he faintly recalled a man bursting into the tavern awhile back while he was enjoying a pint.

 

He hadn't quiet figured out what he meant by a messenger yesterday. Though Griever wasn't in the habit of asking questions in view of public, he hated the ridicule that sometimes accompanied inquisition. Though what most interested him was the rumors of a few outlaws that were circulating about the Pen as well, it would be better for him to get the words right out of the horses mouth.

 

Griever felt a sudden desire for travel, after hearing the man's enthusiasm, it rekindled something inside him, a calling to see far off places. This would be an ample opportunity, or so he thought. All through last night Griever had rehearsed in deep thought how he would go about doing it.

 

Better to wait and see was his final verdict. Griever was positive that if any band of adventurers were to depart from the pen's keep they would pass through the western gateway. Though there wasn't a soul about. He put the mana crystal in his hand away, deep into his cloaks inner pocket and mounted his horse.

 

Griever crumpled his brow, that drooped angrily over a pair of flaring brown eyes. He was beginning to think he had made an error in his calculations. With a small kick to the beasts side, he sent to horse into a small trot, turning him about face and almost running dead on into another pair on horse back.

 

Griever reacted with out looking to see who it was, as he was now in an even more foul mood and he said coldly "Excuse me, your in my way" to his mistake he had almost passed by the very person he wanted to see.

 

With a quick tug of the reigns, the powerful front legs of the horse reared and slammed back down onto the road. Griever steered the horse towards the pair and came up beside them, his eyes narrowing slightly as his brow smoothed out and he said

 

"Master, Kasmandre I presume?"

 

While waiting for a response Griever began to wonder who is other Elf companion was, since he was more then sure it was Kasmandre from the distinct raimen knives he had slung on his chest.

[Vlad]

John had been walking around the pen for quite a while now, and this is no easy feat, with little or great quantities of luck, depending how you look at it. He had not run into the ravenous mob, but under the current light his new costume looked just plain awful. His hat was off-center, the shirt was wrinkled, and the pants were spotted. What type of normal person would wear spotted pants. Then again, John was hardly what you would call normal. As he walked along aimlessly, his biggest worry was that his costume looked bad! There was nobody to wear the costume for, nobody to impress, no buisiness meeting to attend, so why would one care if his shirt had a fold in it. A fold so miniscule that it was completely unnotacable because of the striped pattern. That was his second biggest concern, vertical stripes make people seem skinny. He made a mental reminder to get a camera, it does add forty pounds. John's thoughts just trailed off from there, and one would not enjoy reading them. These thoughts are so unimportant, so obscure, that obscure isn't enough to describe them. Yet these very same thoughts pre-occupied John so much that he walked into a large sign with a definite thud.

 

John stopped to get his bearings for a moment, not realizing where he was. All places tend to look the same to the untrained eye, and John was most definetly untrained. As new thoughts concerning location and how to get back to the pen flooded this poor simpleton's mind, he looked up at the sign in admiration. It was a masterpiece, a perfect overhead view of the Pen keep, complete with markings for where all the rooms are. Then a momentus event took place. An idea must have gotten lost and somehow crawled into John's skull, for he realized it was a map. It is a mystery if the you are here symbol or the title, Map of the Pen and Vicinity, gave it away, but somehow John realized this and quickly began formulating an elaborate plan on how to get back in the Keep.

 

He saw a marking that said "East Gate", and immediately began deciding if it would be more prudent to climb over it, or tunnel under. He decided to look at the most likely impregnable gate before comiting, but favored climbing more. No sense in getting his costume wrinkled and dirty. Ready to pursue this course of action, John promptly headed of to the west, reasoning that if he were to sneak up on the gate from behind, his task would be lessened.

 

While traveling westward, Jonh began to see a shape form in the distance. It seemed to be a rather large gate with some people standing beside it. Four-legged people to be exact. Vlad decided that some sort of action must be happening at this east gate. He hadn't realized that this is the west gate yet, and wouldn't for quite a long time. As he approached, he could hear snipets of conversation but decided to stay hidden in the shrubbery for now.

[Guest Kasmandre]

Kasmandre looked at the man who had so recently almost collided with him. "Yes," he said, "I am Kasmandre. And you are?"

 

"Call me Griever."

 

"Alright, Griever, how can we help you?"

 

This wasn't going quite as well as Griever had hoped. Usual bad luck to literally run into the person that he'd wanted to travel with...

 

"I heard that you were going on a quest. And...in short, I'd like to some along. I believe you'll find me most useful."

 

Kasmandre sighed. "I'd try to discourage you, but I don't seem to be having any luck with that. I guess all I can say is 'Welcome aboard.'

 

"As you deduced, I am Kasmandre. This fine young elf behind me is Sheemie. The man on the nervous-looking horse is Daryl. The anthrmorphic rabbit is Usagi and the tigertaur is Katzaniel.

 

"Well, now that we're all met, I'd like to get on the road. It's many miles to Trelain and I want to put some distance between us and here before dark."

 

With that, Kasmandre led the party down the road. As he rode, he thought to himself, They're a good group. I should really open up to them more, let them know exactly why exactly I'm in such a hurry. Why I'm so worried about Cassandra. Why I would die if I lost her again...

 

Kasmandre was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the man in the jester's outfit following them (not so) silently behind.

[Guest Katzaniel]

The sun was starting to set and many members of the group, unaccustomed to travel, were showing signs of wear. They all knew, however, that this day was the first of many, and that it had not even been a full one.

 

There hadn't been much speech of yet within the group. All were curious of each other, but each was occupied with their own griefs and memories as well. At one point, someone had asked Kasmandre a question; lost somewhere within, the query had gone unnoticed. No one else had attempted conversation after that. It just seemed right that Kasmandre be the one to initiate any further discussion that day.

 

Katzaniel hoped that the next day would bring freedom of conversation, as she had completed her own inner wanderings, was satisfied for her reasons to be on the journey, and wanted to know more about her companions. She also sensed the atmosphere of silent anticipation, and so kept it at that for the time being.

 

When the group stopped some time later, after the sun was well underneath the horizon and most of the travellers were past ready for the rest, they all pitched in to set up an impromptu camp for the night. Still unable to break the silence, they worked side by side until camp was set and then started to settle down for the night.

 

Katzaniel blurred into tiger form, forgetting until she recieved a startled look from Griever that the newcomer had not yet known her powers. She shrugged inwardly, knowing that the action had instigated more unanswered questions and resolved that by the next day at least they would be addressed. She motioned to the group that she was leaving and then padded off backwards a bit, where they had passed a small wooded area. She was hungry, and she thought that she might be able to score some food, perhaps enough for the entire group. She had had no good hunting since she joined the Pen, and sorely missed the sport.

 

The tiger had been out for barely a quarter-hour when John stumbled over her. She had been crouching, observing an animal for a moment before leaping to make the kill, a couple of small, already-dead creatures behind her. The man didn't see her, which wasn't the surprising thing, since she was well-hidden. Then, however, he picked himself up and without even looking back, continued his swaggering walk.

 

It was suspicious enough that this man was out, in this location and at this time, but to add upon those incriminations he had headed straight for their camp. With one stroke and without any warning, Katzaniel knocked him unconscious. She then dragged him with her teeth to the two carcasses, became the tigertaur once more, and slung the limp bodies over her shoulders.

 

A moment later, she burst upon the group. A little groggy, she was nevertheless impressed at their quick reaction time when she came upon them. She found herself confronted with an assortment of half asleep people and creatures, weapons unsheathed and recognition just beginning to dawn.

 

"I hate to break the mood," she said, feeling relieved to finally speak. "But it seems we have a visitor."

 

As she spoke, Katzaniel tossed John into the center of the semicircle formed by her companions. All eyes fell on him as she performed the secondary action of dropping the smaller forest creatures to the side.

[Gyrfalcon]

The Big Pointy One posted,

 

Usagi tapped the man in what appeared to be jester's clothing with the flat of one of his katanas. Getting no immediate reaction, he shrugged and sheathed his blade.

 

"Odd time and place for clouds to be wandering about." Usagi shrugged again. "Well, I suppose I'll go scout ahead while you all decide what to with our 'guest'. I'll be back in time to take first watch if everyone else wants to get some rest."

Gyrfalcon25 posted,

 

Daryl had been on his fee when Katzaniel came crashing through the brush, though not because of any lack of grace on the tigertaur’s part, but more his burden bouncing off of the bushes.

 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Daryl eyed the unconscious man Katzaniel had thrown into the center of the camp, near the fire. Something about the man’s dress tugged at Daryl’s memory.

 

“I think I’ve seen him before... somewhere around the Pen, I think.” Daryl said, running a hand through his hair.

 

Katzaniel, who had observed the man moving, remembered a bit more. “It was right after the guards- when Kasmandre dropped in on us.” he smiled a bit at his literal statement before the tigertaur continued. “This guy came running past, talking to himself or something. A few moments later, we had to run from the guards again.”

 

Daryl nodded, remembering the incident now.

 

“Oh yeah... him.” Daryl regarded the uniform and snickered. “I do have to admit, the costume suits him well...”

 

Daryl scratched his head. “Well... what do we do with him?” he asked the others around the fire.

[Guest Neo Madeen]

"He dresses funny. Perhaps the lyncanthrope should have ate him along with her other catches." Griever said as he looked up and towards the man feigning unconsciousness then at Katzaniel from beneath the hood of his cloak, while sitting cross legged around the fire.

 

It had been the first time Griever had spoken since he had set out with the small group from the confides of the Pen, though it wasn't anything new. He usually distanced him self from others. The moon had just began to wax over the horizon and shone with a cool sliver crescent light over the pungent mists that littered the country side and clung together in small pockets across the hearth. The party had made camp amidst a small mass of withered brush and dwarfed shrubs that held true to their surroundings showing only brown faces in the warm orange light of the fire.

 

Griever heaved a small sigh of fatigue, sleep was struggling to take hold of his body and he was more weary then ever. Using his staff to hoist him self to his feet, and once upright he walked around the fire, closer to the man on the ground casting a thick shadow over him.

 

With a swift jab to the man's sternum from the butt of the staff he held in his hand, Griever attempted to rouse the sleeper. To no avail. The comically dressed man was out like a torch that had seen many ours of use.

 

He noted other members of the party were having similar confused looks to their faces from the deepness of the mans slumber.

 

"Odd" Griever muttered as he looked down" Why would this fool be following us, and why won't he rouse?"

[Vlad]

John was lying like a brick encased in cement at the bottom of a pond when he was jabbed, rather nastily, with a big stick. The small group was starting to gather closer around him, and they began to wonder what was wrong with him. As if in answer to their thoughts, John's breathing broke its regularity. Only the animals noticed it, and they all became that much more attentive. John slowly rolled over from his back, to his stomach, revealing an oddly familiar looking shaped smudge on the back of his costume. In the process of turning over though, John managed to shove his hand into the blazing campfire. He did not wake from the pain, but raher from the sickly-sweet smell of cooking flesh.

 

He stood up like a dart, and immediately inquiered as to what smelled so divine. Nobody ventured forth an answer, so John looked from face to face, and could have sworn that a tiger was licking it's lips. Realizing (that's two for today) that it was indeed him who was the special, albeit uninvited, dinner guest, he ran off, but ran dead on into the charming fox with barred teeth. He bounced back, and landed on his rear, everyone still eyeing him suspiciously.

[Guest Kasmandre]

Kasmandre knelt down next to the strange young man. "I think that you should tell us who you are and why you've been following us."

 

John simply broke down and started blubbering. "I'm sorry, I'm just so hungry 'cuz I haven't had anything to eat since two days ago and even then it was just turkey sandwiches and I really don't even like turkey and I just wanted some food and I don't know where I am and I can't do anything right and I just want to go home! I wanna go hooooooome!!"

 

"Okay!" Kasmandre shouted over John's cries. The last thing they needed was undue attention brought on by this blubbering fool. He spoke the next very softly and slowly, as if speaking to a child or a mental defective: "What is your name and where is your home?"

 

John sniffed loudly and answered, "My name's John and I live on a farm in Dearborn, a town north of Trelain, near the Passless Mountains."

 

Kasmandre held back the curse that wanted to come out of his lips. Of course fate would put this moron's home right in the general direction they wanted to go. He considered his options for a moment: he could leave John here to his own devices (which obviously weren't many), or he could allow John to join them (which would slow them down as there weren't any more horses and someone would have to walk).

 

Why can't I ever have a win-win situation? Kasmandre thought to himself. He said to John, "Well, as we seem to be along one another's path, you should come with us. I am Kasmandre and my companions are Katzaniel, Daryl, Griever, Sheemie, and Usagi, who has gone ahead to scout out a little." Then he turned to Sheemie and said, "Give him something out of my pack to eat."

 

Sheemie dug out some salted meat and handed it to John, who ate it greedily. While he did this, Kasmandre addressed the rest of the group: "We'll have three watches tonight. Katzaniel, you take the first. When Usagi returns, he'll take the second, and I'll take the third. Now, I suggest that we all get some sleep as we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

 

Kasmandre started back to his bedroll, but not before whispering to Katzaniel, "Keep an eye on our guest during your watch. I don't think he lied to us, but there may be more to him then meets the eye."

 

Katz muttered back, "There'd almost have to be."

[Guest Katzaniel]

Just as Kasmandre was turning away again with a nod of agreement, Katz turned serious. "Can you wait a moment?"

 

Kasmandre was tired, but he stopped and faced her again expectantly.

 

"Well, I'm sure you've noticed, there are no more horses."

 

Kasmandre looked surprised for an instant, then began, "What was I supposed..."

 

"No!" interrupted Katzaniel, slightly louder than intended. She spoke again, quieter this time: "I didn't mean it as criticism. What I meant was, I don't want to put up with this blubbering fool longer than need be. I just wanted to say, he can ride on my back. Not all the time... but I'll let him ride on my back if it will speed things up."

 

Kasmandre nodded. "Thank you. By the looks of that man, that's a very generous offer."

 

Then he turned once more and headed away.

[Gyrfalcon]

Daryl shook his head, partially to clear the last of the disorientation from his sudden change between human and fox-man, but mostly because of how strange this human was. The werefox noticed Katzaniel talking quietly to Kasmandre on the other side of the fire, but most of his attention was fixed on this strange human who called himself John. The human didn’t notice Daryl’s gaze, too intent on the first real food he had had in a few days. The man gnawed tenaciously at the tough meat, favoring one of his hands heavily. Daryl sighed and shook his head, then went and found his backpack. Towards the bottom, he found a roll of bandages he had thrown in as he was packing for the journey. He had considered leaving the roll behind, as he had little need for the things himself. However, he realized his companions might need them, and had brought the bandages along anyway.

 

Returning to where John sat finishing the meat, Daryl knelt beside him. John immediately turned away from Daryl to protect his food, and the werefox growled in annoyance. “Look, I need to bandage your hand before it gets infected.”

 

John glared at Daryl and tried to growl back. “You can’t have it, it’s mine!” he said, apparently still stuck on the thought that Daryl wanted his food.

 

Daryl grabbed John’s head and turned it until they looked eye to eye. “I. Don’t. Want. The. Damned. Food.” Daryl said slowly and precisely, baring his sharp white fangs with each word.

 

Strangely, John calmed down. “Oh, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” he asked.

 

“I did.” Daryl replied as he took John’s hand and efficiently bandaged it to the tune of John’s whimpers of pain.

 

“That hurt!” John said after Daryl tied the last knot.

 

“Not as much as having your hand chopped off and cauterized at the wrist because it became infected.” Daryl said practically.

 

“Oh.” John said, before returning to his meal.

 

Daryl just shook his head as he returned the smaller roll of bandages to his bag before rolling up in his cloak and returning to sleep.

[Vlad]

OOC: Kas, very nicely written...

 

IC: As the fool ate like a starved half-dead gerbil, he thought (#3) that he should have some manners about him, or he might not get food in the future. These seemingly nice creatures, and men, were beeing rather nice, but he knew niceness wasn't a permanent trait. "Gee, Mr. Kassamannyder, thanks for the meal. What is it? Tastes like chicken."

 

Kasmandre, who had been blissfully walking away, thinking the situation had resolved itself stopped dead in his tracks. The love of his life gets captured, he almost gets assassinated, guards chase him through the city, and to top it all off, someone gave a gibbering fool - who was dressed the part - his last piece of chicken. He slowly turned to face John, and tried to keep his voice quiet and level. "First of all, it's Kas-man-dre. Not Kassy-whatever you said. Second, you just ate my last piece of chicken. I like chicken. Third, you are filthy. There is a small stream a bit of a ways back. It's clean enough to wash yourself with, but not clean enough to drink." As an afterthought he mumbled maybe you'll get eaten by something.

 

John said his thanks, and wandered off in the direction Kasmandre was pointing. As John started off on his way, Kasmandre got his first good look at the smudge on the back of John's costume. He didn't know it at the time, but this was the same emblem that Jerry wore. The smudge was not accidentaly shaped that way. It was one of the ways the evil wizard who captured Cassandra could tell who were his followers, and who were not.

 

Seeing the emblem, Kasmandre had a strange feeling of worry overcome him, but it was Katzaniel, not he, who voiced this concern. "No, stop. I don't trust you alone. There is something... different about you. Stay here, you will remain as you are. Doubtlessly we will all get dirty at some point in this travel." Hearing such a commanding tone, John stopped, lied down next to the fire, and drifted off into a deep sleep. During the night he would turn only once, and it would wipe away the smudge on his back.

[Guest Kasmandre]

Crunch. Crunch. Slit! Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Slit!

 

Somewhere near the edge of Kasmandre's fading consciousness, he could hear strange noises.

 

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Slit! Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Slit!

 

Fighting the urge to let whoever was on guard handle it, fighting the sleep that threatened to overcome him, Kasmandre dragged himself awake just in time to see what was making these noises.

 

A huge misshapen figure crept through the camp, making surprisingly little sound for a creature of its size.

 

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

 

It bent over the darkened mound of one of Kasmandre's sleeping companions and with a single deft motion, slit his throat.

 

Slit!

 

This woke Kasmandre up all the way. He leapt to his feet, throwing up magical light.

 

"Everyone, awake!! We're under attack!!" he shouted, but no one stirred.

 

In the growing light, Kasmandre could see those who had so bravely followed him, lying where they had slept, their throats slit, blood soaking the ground where they lay.

 

"No!!" he screamed, throwing all his powers against the dark, misshapen things. The pure energy he threw against them engulfed them, incinerated them, but revealed them no more than his light spell did. They remained clothed in shadows, only glowing yellow eyes showing.

 

One by one these things fell to his power, until...it stopped. The power he drew on was no more, used up entirely. The light around him faded and the things drew nearer.

 

Fine then, Kasmandre thought, If I have to die here, I will. I deserve no better.

 

But the things stopped barely a yard away from him. Stopped and went down on their knees.

 

A growling, animalistic voice emerged from one of them. "Archmage Kasmandre. Master. Lead us."

 

And from another, "We bring you what you require."

 

And this second one reached into whatever clothing it wore and removed two objects, both round, one large and irregular, one small and smooth. It dropped the large one to the ground and placed the small one in Kasmandre's hand. Instantly, the small, black stone began to pulse and glow with a malevolent light.

 

It's the Eye, he thought, the Eye of - And then all thought was cut off by what the light of the Eye revealed.

 

The large object was Cassandra's severed head.

 

The Eye pulsed.

 

Now it was Sheemie's head...

 

Pulse.

 

It was Katzaniel...

 

Pulse.

 

It was Daryl...

 

Pulse.

 

It was Griever...

 

Pulse.

 

It was John...

 

Pulse.

 

It was Usagi...

 

It was Usagi, shaking him, telling him to wake up, that it was Kasmandre's turn to take the watch.

[Guest Katzaniel]

The rising orange sun cast its light across the camp. Kasmandre sat in the slowly waning darkness, eyes flitting across the camp, keeping careful guard despite obvious fatigue.

 

Katzaniel woke in the growing light. Being a cat, she was used to having much more sleep every day. Since she was in partial human form, she did not feel it as keenly as she might otherwise have done, but nevertheless she sorely missed the extra rest.

 

Kasmandre noticed the stirring but discounted it. Katzaniel shook off her sleep and went to him. She knew that the others would be awake soon, but she needed someone to talk to and thought that Kasmandre might also welcome the company.

 

Only the usual niceties had been said when the next person awoke. The three of them began saddling up the horses and so on, and soon everyone was awake. Katzaniel explained to John that he could ride on her back for a few hours, until she became sore from his weight. He complied, and they set off.

 

Not wanting this to be another silent journey, Katzaniel began the conversation.

 

"So, Griever, what brings you on these travels with us?"

[Guest Kasmandre]

Griever was a little surprised at being addressed. Yesterday, the travel had been completed in almost complete silence and he hadn't expected any different today. Also, Griever tended to keep to himself and wasn't used to discussing his motivaions with others. He thought for a moment and was about to respond when the sound of shouting and fighting reached his ears. A drift of smoke coming from just over the next rise added to the effect.

 

From Katzaniel's back, John asked, "What's that?"

 

"Trouble," Griever responded. "And it's in our road."

 

Kasmandre had also noticed the tumult up ahead and had set a slightly faster pace. When they reached the top of the hill the group looked down. The road below went into a forest. Just outside of the forest, a merchant's caravan was being assaulted by bandits. The wagons had tried to form a protective circle but had only been partially successful before too many horses or drivers had been killed. The merchant's guards appeared to be holding their own for the time being, but most of the bandits were taking cover in the forest, striking out and then retreating before the guards could retaliate. The caravan wouldn't hod out much longer.

 

"Crap," Kasmandre muttered, "this is just what we need: more trouble." And louder: "Foreward! Ai can'aada Nu!" Kasmandre unsheathed his short sword and charged foreward, Sheemie holding on behind him.

[Gyrfalcon]

Daryl spurred his horse after Kasmandre’s, growling in its ear to make it go faster. The horse panicked and reared up, nearly unseating Daryl, then put its head down and galloped, trying to run away from the predator perched on its back. Grabbing the horse’s ears, Daryl pointed its head at one of the clusters of mounted brigands, knowing that he had a highly effective way to dismount them all.

 

Passing by Kasmandre to the man’s surprise, Daryl let loose a war cry that sounded like a loud wolf’s howl, which caused his horse to go a tiny bit faster and made Kasmandre have to take a firm hand with his horse to keep it from shying away from the predator.

 

The howl also caused the raiders to focus on the charging companions. They were disoriented for a moment, but then the cluster Daryl was charging cantered towards him, knowing that the unarmed fool was going to be an easy kill.

 

They thought.

 

A dozen yards away from them, Daryl fell into himself, and into his Change. It flowed through him, reshaping him from a human to a hybrid of man and fox. In the time it took for him to finish Changing, his horse had closed to less then a few yards from the bandits when it began to buck and scream, as Daryl’s scent spoke directly to it of a large predator on its back. The horses of the bandits, who were upwind of Daryl, likewise caught the scent, and their eyes rolled nervously. Then Daryl snarled at them, the sound all but dripping with malice. The bandits tried to hold on, but one by one, they were thrown by their wildly bucking horses or were carried away from the battle, cursing, as their horses panicked and fled.

 

Daryl was likewise thrown from his mount, who bolted back the way he had come, but unlike the bandits, he was prepared and landed lightly on his feet. Most of the bandits rose from where they had fallen and pointed swords and axes, spears and daggers at the werefox in their midst.

 

“Who wants to die first?” Daryl asked them brightly, flashing his bright white fangs in a grin at the bandits, who blanched. They exchanged looks, then attacked as one.

 

“Oh good, a democratic decision - all of you!” Daryl said, shrugging off the hits from the steel weapons and lashing out with clawed hands to rake exposed throats, kicking at knees, groins, stomachs and chests, his lycanthropic muscles giving his kicks horrendous power.

 

Within a few moments, the half-dozen bandits were all down, two dead and the rest clutching various parts of their bodies and groaning in pain. Looking towards the caravan, Daryl nodded in satisfaction- they couldn’t see what had happened. Grinning to himself, Daryl melted into the underbrush to go find new friends to play with - all of his old friends seem to have lost interest in the games...

[Guest Katzaniel]

Katzaniel saw Daryl take off, and then started after him. She didn't get far, because John lost his balance. Katz had forgotten about him for a moment, and decided it was best, perhaps, to forget about him for a moment longer. She attempted to keep going, figuring he would let go and she could aid Daryl and Kasmandre. Instead, John kept hanging on, his arms enfolded about the tigertaur's chest, and his legs dragging in the dirt beside them. He wouldn't let himself fall and he couldn't get back on.

 

Drat the idiot! thought Katz, slowing to a stop. She turned her human head and looked at the man. He remounted. Without waiting further, she sped up again.

 

John fell again, still managing to keep his grip. Katzaniel, by now, didn't care. She wanted to get to the fight before it was over, and to aid her friends. The man clinging to her finally let go, and she didn't look back. She reached the caravan a moment later to see that much of the fight had finished. Daryl had obviously taken care of his share of the raiders with ease. She looked around to see whether he was hurt or had dispatched them as easily as it seemed. Not seeing him - and being faced instead with the leftover angry raiders - she discarded that thought. First, she would take care of her share, then she would see about Daryl. Given his personal strengths, he really should have been the least of her worries, anyway.

 

Katzaniel hurled her spear into one of the men and then shifted into a large, blazing tiger. Making full use of her abilities, she consciously maximized her shape, creating a form with long, sharp claws, good agility and well-shaped muscles. Every creature there ever was had a mix of strengths and weaknesses, and, Katzaniel was the first to add, every creature that ever would be. Practice had made the subtle characteristic-choosing into merely a second thought to the actual Shift, but without making proper adjustments, it could not be done. So she allowed for less-than-perfect speed and flexibility against the far slower humans, focussing elsewhere.

 

The advantage lent her by the surprise of the raiders made the initail dispatches an easy task. She had been surviving for centuries, and this fight required nothing new from those skills she had already learned. Nevertheless, she was glad when, after killing the first four, she was joined by another of her companions.

[Vlad]

John tumbled in the dirt, from where he fell off of Katzaniels' back. His face and clothes were covered in a layer of dirt, and his mouth and nose were filled to the brim. Coughing and sneezing, he unclooged his face as he slowly lifted himself off the ground. While falling, John hit his head, and consequentaly saw doubble. He saw two merchant caravans and head toward the one on the left. While on the path he managed to hit a tree, and started seeing doubles of the doubles. Keepin it consistent, John once again headed to the left-most one. He might have been walking in circles, because he saw a large indentation on the ground and remarked that a fall like that must've hurt...

 

As John wobbled back in the direction of the caravan he came face t oface with a familiar figure. "Why hello, you're the guy who wrapped up my hand." John lifted his arm to demonstrate. "You should try to keep your horse under control." John started off to the caravan again, getting an icy look in his back.

[Guest Kasmandre]

As John staggered toward the caravan, Kasmandre reached him. "Duck, you idiot!" he shouted, knocking John to the dirt as he rode past. Not a moment too soon, as a barage of arrows cut the air where John had been a moment before. "In the trees," he yelled to the others, "they've got archers in the trees!"

 

Turning his horse toward the forest, Kasmandre let go of the reins and took up his bow. He let loose with a few shafts before having to turn away from the archers' attentions. None of Kasmandre's shots seemed to hit any of the concealed archers.

 

Disgusted, Kasmandre handed the bow and arrows to Sheemie and told him to keep shooting at their attackers while he evaded their arrows.

 

As they attempted this teamwork, a group of horsemen rode out of the trees, swords at the ready, heading directly for a break in the caravan's circle.

[Kasmandre]

ooc: Hmm...no one posts for over a week. This needs to be turned around or the story will end before it's fairly begun...

 

ic: The bandit riders make it within the partial circle of wagons and begin attacking the merchant's guards from both sides. Closely behind them though, is Usagi. In a flurry of blades, two of the bandits fall to the turf. The others quickly take notice and attempt to flank the rabbit-warrior.

 

However, this proves to be difficult. Daryl rushes into the wagon circle and jumps the nearest bandit, taking him off his horse. Naturally, the bandit doesn't last long. Between the two ferral warriors and the merchant's guards, the bandits seem to have bitten off more than they can chew.

 

Outside the circle, the others are fighting the hidden archers in the trees. Kasmandre is wildly dodging arrows while Sheemie fires into the trees with considerably greater accuracy than Kasmandre had. Griever uses his magic to reveal the positions of many of the archers and kills them with little effort. Katzaniel transforms into a cheetah and takes to the trees, elimanating her fair share of bandits.

 

And John? John hides under a wagon.