World Without End

[Katzaniel]

Pretty soon, everyone but John was involved in the fight. For Katzaniel, it was a blur. She did a lot of shape-shifting, realizing early that it gave her a huge advantage, as her opponents got thrown off every time she did. They didn't seem to be able to handle the thought of something as odd as the Shift, no matter how many times they saw it. So she used it often, running around behind them, striking, twisting around between their legs, changing again. Every time it took them a moment to register in their minds that they were fighting a different creatue. Their thoughts were transparent: I've got the cheetah now, whoa, where's it going?, then they turn around, ready to contribute the death-strike on the cheetah, before: Hey, what happened to the cheetah? How'd this leopard get here? Aaaaah! She dispatched many of them quickly that way, and it didn't seem to be getting any less effective.

 

At one point in the fight, she almost did get killed. Thinking back later on, she couldn't figure out what had happened to get her in that position, but she must have underestimated one of them. After changing into a lion, she took a second, only a second, to look around. Get her bearings. She saw Sheemie, doing his best to be a help. Who let him in here, she thought scornfully. The helpless creature is going to get himself killed within the first few days of the trip! She looked on in confusion as he aimed an arrow and shot it, straight in her direction. Too surprised to react, and chiding herself for letting it get the best of herself as it had for her enemies up until that moment, she was only able to watch in relief as it went high - and landed right in the chest of a man, standing above her and in the act of swinging a sword toward her. This time she did move, knowing that with the inertia of the sword, it could still hurt.

 

For the remainder of the fight, she kept thinking about that moment. What had happened? She had only looked away for an instant. None of the raiders had been that close. She knew that if Sheemie had not killed the man in mid-strike, the speed and force of it would have done her in. Probably not the death-blow, not yet, but it would have led directly to the moment of her death.

 

She still did not entirely respect Sheemie, though. Stubborness, as well as a natural arrogance, made her see it as a stroke of luck. Luck that Sheemie had managed to live up until that point in the fight, luck that he hadn't killed her himself with that shot, and bad luck that he didn't get killed afterwards. He was only going to bring unhappiness down upon them all, somehow. By his own death when they were counting on him, or another moment of confidence when he couldn't pull through with the skill that they hoped he had, he would be the downfall of them all.

[Gyrfalcon]

Seeing the bandits breach the protective circle of the wagons, Daryl knew that he and the others had to act fast, or else the bandits would slaughter the merchants and their guards. Disregarding the potential consequences, he charged towards the circle of the wagons, and noticed that Usagi was already there among the bandits, distracting them from their planned butchering. Daryl planned to the same, but in a much more noticeable manner. Daryl scrambled up the nearest wagon, a rolling box on wheels type, and leapt from the roof. As he fell, he twisted around in a sweeping kick that connected hard with his target’s skull, blasting him from his horse. The horses in turn began to panic at the scent of the large predator in their midst, and while the bandits kept them under control, the unconscious man and a pair near Usagi died quickly. Unconscious, the man never moved as a horse’s hoof came down on his skull with grim finality. The other two focused too much on their horses and not enough on what the anthropomorphic rabbit bearing down on them was doing.

 

Meanwhile, Daryl was more intent on dodging then causing damage, though he reached out and clawed at legs, arms, and bodies as they presented themselves. However, most of his movements were designed to keep him away from the swords and axes of the bandits, who were frantically trying to kill the creature in the middle of their formation before it did something horrible to them all. One of them, however, recognized Daryl for what he was.

 

Calmly pulling an arrow with a silver-washed tip from his quiver, the man nocked his horse bow and pulled the feathers of the arrow to his check with a tight grimace, the arrowhead centered unwaveringly on Daryl’s back.

 

The man slowly relaxed the pressure on the arrow and lowered the bow, even as Daryl leapt behind a man and stabbed a dagger plucked from the man’s belt into his back, through his heart. The horse reared in panic, and Daryl leapt free, claws transforming another man’s face into a bloody ruin.

 

The archer looked down, at the katana standing out from his chest, and his sight grew dim as he slumped from his horse. Usagi scooted into the saddle and retrieved his katana, then kicked his newly acquired mount towards the melee centered around the werefox, shouting a war cry as he began to lash out with his katanas. Quickly, he cut his way through to Daryl, who was finishing off a bandit on the ground. “Done here? Then there are more outside. Come.” Usagi said before spurring the horse towards the gap in the circle, leaving Daryl facing the surviving guards and merchants. The guards clutched their weapons tightly, almost as afraid of their strange saviors as they were of their enemies.

 

“Try to keep them outside the circle. Daryl said dryly before rolling under a wagon and outside the circle himself. Springing to his feet, he hurried towards where he heard screaming about giant cat-demons, to see if Katzaniel wanted help cleaning up.

[Vlad]

OOC: I'm not sure if this post is fine and fits the story, but that's the type of writer I am....

 

IC: The battle was waged fiercly and with a godly will on the part of both groups of combatants. Niether of them reacted well to death. Daryl and Usagi were cleaving efficiently, while the others did what they could. Well, all but John.

 

John stayed under his wagon. He liked it there. It was warm, and reminded him of home. He even found someone's blanket there, which looked uncannily like the one his mother gave him when he was but a boy. He still was a boy, trying to enjoy the simple pleasures of life, unfortunately getting stuck in messy battles like these.

 

Somebody rolled by under the wagon next to him, but John took no notice. He was enjoying the fragrance of a delicate flower which lay before him, trampled by chaos. It had lost its form, but it was more beautiful this way, he decided.

 

As he reached out to pick it up, off the ground, somebody ran by and tripped over John's hand. This villain landed near Griever, knocking him off-balance with a grunt. Griever's spell then misfired, and accidentaly hit Katzaniel, who was in mid-leap. Katzaniel was knocked off-course, and plowed through Sheemie. Sheemie, startled, relased the bow-string out of panic, and an arrow sailed towards his master, Kasmandre. Kasmandre managed to evade the arrow, but in the process stabbed Daryl, who was busy sneaking up on his next victim. Daryl jumped back and quickly healed his wound, as it was a non-silver or magical weapon. However, while Daryl was about to yell out to Kasmandre about not attacking your allies, he accidentaly bit Usagi. As Usagi howled in pain, he slung his katana into the air. By the time Usagi realized that it didn't hurt, the katana had given one bandit a rather close shave, and turned pants into shorts for another. As Usagi went to get his weapon back, he saw that it landed blade-down in the dirt, cleaving a flower in half.

 

John let out a single tear and swore to never try to pick up a flower again.

[Griever]

Griever clutched his stomach with his hands, reeling in pain. The mage had the wind knocked out of him and lie on his back in the dirt.

The battle didn't stop; a few bandits seized the opportunity by the reigns and charged. Archers notched their bows and took aim, then fired a salvo of death.

 

Three sets launched towards the defenders, Katzaniel was the first to be fired upon. They might as well have not, with blinding agility she dodged them easily enough and honed in on them. Usagi clove the shafts of the arrows with his master sword skills and the others did like wise. John stayed under his wagon.

 

Griever reached for his staff, he must have been temporarily forgotten by the aggressors as they busied them self by exchanging blows with the others. The mage reached over to his wizard's tool that had fallen beside him and grasped onto it firmly as he rose to his feet. Narrowing his gaze and lowering his staff Griever casted a spell by muttering long fluid archaic rights. The words formed into crimson letters and hatch marks on the ground beneath his feet. They pulsated then took physical form in the body of a long slender arrow of fire.

 

At first the mystic arrow was just a giant spear of flame, then it divided into two smaller versions of it self and didn't stop until ten blazing missiles illuminated the air above the semi circle of brilliant rune letters. With a gesture of Griever's hand all ten launched at their targets leaving sidewinding streaks of fire behind them and wakes of heated air on either side. Some were aimed at the archers but passed through a bandit or two leaving a cauterized hole in thier chest before finding its mark. Upon impact, they exploded into a torrent of flame. All around the wagon the forest screamed as it caught fire.

 

Griever didn't say anything, but merely smiled at his handy work in a vicious savor.

[Kasmandre]

Kasmandre rode up next to Griever. "Thanks for the assist, but in the future, consider not torching a forest we have to ride through." With this said, Kasmandre reached out a hand and the fires began to die down. He looked around at the other members of the party. No one appeared to be seriously injured, and the bandits appeared to have all been slain or fled (the former being much more likely). But something wasn't right.

 

Katzaniel caught on first as she changed into tigertaur form. "Where's John?" she asked.

 

Meanwhile, inside the wagon circle, John was slowly emerging from underneath one of the wagons. Then he saw one of the "dead" bandits moving and he quickly retreated back into his hiding spot.

 

The bandit was bleeding from several places and he had no use of his right leg, which was mangled to a severe degree. But this wasn't stopping him from reaching his goal, which apparently was the very wagon John was hiding under. With a supreme effort, the bandit managed to climb up onto the wagon and began sorting through the goods there, looking for something. After a minute, John heard a small sound of triumph and the bandit started moving toward one of the abandoned horses, a small bundle in his arms.

[The Big Pointy One]

Usagi ducked a clumsy axe swing that would take a less nimble man's head from his shoulders as he sliced across another bandit's abdomen open. Another swing of an axe and his opponent found a katana blade lodged through his left lung. Falling to the ground as Usagi's blade was pulled free, the rogue clutched his chest in pain and took his last breath. Usagi made quick work of a few more bandit's when his ears picked up a small squeak. It was John, calling from beneath a wagon. Usagi swung his katana upwards in a half-attentioned parry, then darted his other katana towards his current adversary's jugular, dotting his neck with blood. Turning full attention to John now, he made his way over to the group's mysterious, incompetent companion.

 

"What is it?" Usagi asked.

 

"That guy, " John pointed toward the injured bandit that was now climbing onto a horse, "Is getting away!"

 

"Hardly."

 

Usagi let the bandit climb onto the horse and sheathed his katanas. The bandit did his best to get the horse moving and started taking off at an unnoticable canter. John looked at the rabbit-man quizzically, who simply stood, arms crossed, a sadistic grin playing on his face. When the horse was just out of normal eyesight Usagi's arm snapped forward and a blur of metal cut through the air. Usagi gave a yank and a kunai attached to the tiniest of lines re-appeared in his furry hand. Usagi bounded into the air, deflecting arrows with kunais as he went. When he landed, he grabbed the bandit (which was now bleeding profusely from his lower back) and dragged him over to where John was cowering.

 

"So, did this guy have something you wanted?"

 

 

 

 

OOC: I know, this was kind of ridiculous, I'm sorry...

[Griever]

"I'll try to remember that" Griever said as he crossed his arms and smiled at Kasmandre. "but if I don't, I know I'll have you to remind me" the young man grinned and walked up to his horse then hoisted him self up to the saddle. Moment's later he was back near the wagon, coal stamped nervously. The beast could feel the tension in the air, and he did not like it one bit.

 

Griever brushed off some of the filth on his robes and looked towards Usagi in the distance, he was carrying a limp body. "What's that guy's story?" Griever said as he looked back at Kasmandre. "He tried to get away" Was Kasmandre's reply.

 

"That won't do at all" The mage said shaking his head as he reached into his medicine bag and took out blue bottle.

 

"What's that for" Kasmandre asked and looked at the bottle in Griever's hand

"Well is that guy dies, we'll never know why they attacked us" A wry smile formed on the mage's face and he rode off.

 

He met the samurai, and the bandit who was feigning consciousness up the road. Stopping completely he looked at the wounded dispassionately "We still don't know why they attacked us, please drop him" Griever muttered as he leapt off his horse and knelt beside the man who Usagi messily tossed aside. His wounds were deep, very deep and they oozed life blood.

 

"This is bad" Griever said as he looked at usagi and opened the bottle "What did he try and steal"

"Dunno" Usagi grunted and rode back into congregation leaving him alone with the dying bandit.

 

Griever poured the translucent liquid on the open wounds, they glowed with an warm starry incandescence. The blood stopped, but he was too far gone to be helped.

 

"Why did you attack us?" Griever said somberly and looked into his face

"Because,... of..Kas..ma.." The man had exhausted his last breaths and died on the ground. Griever lowered his gaze and shut the man's open eyes with his hand.

"Now we'll never know" The mage sighed and tossed the bottle into the bushes in anger.

 

Silently he rose to his feet and then remounted his horse but he wasn't all together eager to meet up with the others. Griever was silent when he entered their company, his face didn't betray him and showed no sign of remorse for the dead man.

"So, what happned" Usagi asked curiously from atop his horse, part of it was gloating and the other seemed genuine.

"He died.. I mean he died before I could get any information out of him" Griever said to Usagi then looked at Kasmandre, he was having mixed reactions.

"Are you sure Griever?"

"Yes. If you'll excuse me" Griever said and flicked the leather reigns of his horse. "I'm going to ride a head... I have some things I need think about" Griever's voice trailed off in the distance and he disappeared into the thick blackness.

Edited January 28, 2003 by Griever

[Katzaniel]

Katzaniel looked wearily ahead at Griever. Everyone had their reasons for wanting to be secretive, but if everyone continued to be so closed, how could they trust one another? If they were to travel in a group, there had to be some trust, and some accountability. Griever had told them absolutely nothing about himself. For that matter, he had asked nothing either. Nevertheless, Katzaniel both felt that she should say something, and foundered uselessly at what words could possibly help the situation. So she, like the others, said nothing to Griever.

 

She did not, however, remain silent. To Kasmandre and the others, she said, "I agree we should get out of here as quickly as possible. However, there are things that should not remain undone. We should execute a search of the caravans, perhaps we will uncover what they will looking for. Also, we should check over the bodies - and lastly, we should open that package. Kasmandre, I presume you will want to do that. I will check this caravan." Not waiting for a response, she made good on her words, and making one deft leap towards the covered wagon she was soon inside of it.

[Gyrfalcon]

Katzaniel immediately backed out of the first wagon, her ears laid back to protect her hearing from the hair-raising shrieks inside.

 

“Don’t let it kill me, don’t let it kill me!” a man screamed inside, his voice edging up the scale to full-fledged hysteria.

 

“Ah, Katzaniel? Why don’t you let me handle this.” Daryl said, forgetting that he was currently in his hybrid form.

 

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” the man shrieked, and Daryl stumbled out, clutching his ears.

 

“Ow.” he whimpered in pain- the man sure could shout loudly.

 

“Hey, what are you... doing...” A guard shouted, before trailing off weakly as a large cat and a werefox turned to look at him. Daryl decided to improvise and quickly said

 

“We were trying to make sure that everyone’s alright and that no bandits ducked into the wagons while the fight was going on.”

 

Katzaniel looked up at Daryl and blinked. “I thought-“ she began to say.

 

“Be quiet, please.” Daryl said very quietly, then addressed the human again. “Also, if we could speak with the merchant who organized this caravan- or the highest ranked surviving merchant- we’d like to ask him some questions.”

[Kasmandre]

Daryl's request was quickly answered, because, about two seconds later, a portly man in moderately fine clothes (less fine than they had been before the raid, owing to the fact that he and John shared a common reaction to the fight) came over with a small kitchen knife.

 

"What in the gods' name is going on here?" he screached, then he saw the werefox and tigertaur and turned several shades paler. Daryl recognized him almost instantly. It was the merchant from the tavern two nights ago. Quickly, Daryl transformed back into human form.

 

"You- you- you're-" the merchant gibbered.

 

"Yes," Daryl answered, "I'm a werefox. And despite what you might think about my kind, I'm not going to kill you. After all, we just went through the trouble of saving your caravan. My friend and I were just searching for any remaining bandits. It would help if you could tell us what they might have been after and where we might find it."

 

"You- you're... Magic!" the merchant spat that last word, as if it were a curse. "Get away from my wagons!! You'll have none of my goods. Get ye gone!!!!"

 

Darly batted the guard aside and grabbed the merchant by his lapels. "We. don't. want. your. merchandice. We just want to know what those bandits were after."

 

"Guards! Help me!!" the merchant shouted. In a quieter voice he whispered to Daryl, "You think you can intimidate me? We've got enough silver weapons to take care of your kind."

 

Daryl threw him to the ground. "Fine. Have it your way. We should have just left your wagons burn to the ground. Come on Katzaniel." The pair started to walk out of the wagons.

 

--Meanwhile--

 

Usagi and Sheemie had left to search the other side of the wagon circle, leaving Kasmandre and John alone with the package. John was waiting intently to see what was inside.

 

"John, why don't you search the bodies? See if you can't find yourself a weapon." One of the last things Kasmandre wanted was to see John armed - he didn't trust the fool by a long shot, and not just because of what he thought he had seen on cloak that first night. He didn't want John armed, but he also didn't want John to see what the bandits had been after. Whatever John really was, he wasn't to be trusted. Kasmandre instinctively knew that, like a mouse knows a snake.

 

Grudgingly, John went over to the nearest of the bodies and began searching. But as soon as Kasmandre went around the side of the side of the wagons, John stood back up and followed as quietly as possible. Carefully, he glanced around the side, hoping that Kasmandre wouldn't be looking.

 

He wasn't. He was standing with his back mostly to John, but John could see around him just enough to see the package as Kasmandre opened it. Slowly, Kasmandre unwrapped it, revealing its contents.

 

Inside the package was a small stack of leather bound books. John could see that something was stamped or burned on the cover of each one, but he couldn't tell what. Kasmandre whispered something then went over to his horse and hid the books in his saddlebags. Then he walked over to the nearest wagon and stuffed whatever matter of junk he could pull out into the package. He went back around the side of the wagon, sending John running for the nearest body. When Kasmandre reached him, he tossed the package down, saying, "It just looks like random junk to me, see if it means anything to you." Then Kasmandre left to find the others.

[Vlad]

OOC: I may add to this later...

 

@#%$, I am in pain...

Oh well, the writing must go on.

 

IC: John hesitantly took the bag from Kasmandre, and steadily took out the contents. First a small knife, then an oaken short staff. He studied the staff, as it seemed to have a great mysterious power emminating from it. Most wouldn't be able to tell what it was, but John was that greedy. He was one of only a handful of creatures in this world who could extract value from such an object. An almost dragon creature was another, but he was still back at his office.

 

As John inspected runic markings on the staff, his eyes lit up. The staff had come from deep within the forest, nature's energies flow though it. It was one of the limbs from the forest's mighty protector, Einos. A treant that rarely left his homelands, far to the West. This heavy weapon was ripped from its creator's soul causing sheer agony at the price of life. Einos had died in a battle, but this staff had then been hardened over the burning remains of his desecrated body. As a final tribute, Einos' successor, Einol, had put the the old treant's powers into the one remaining branch.

 

John's normally aquamarine eyes flared to a lush green, as he entered a trance-like state. He read aloud the inscription in the language of the treants, which he previously had never even heard of, much less learned.

 

"...and as the night fell and birds and beasts and men were lain to rest, the staff of Einos was beeing imbued, for which the great treant gave his life so that whoever shall posess this runic weapon of days of old, when mountains were but hills and forests were alive, shall be spared from eternal torment of passage through the lands the birds and beasts and men, and shall weild the aid of nature to create a delicate equilibrium of life and death, blood and bone, flesh and steel, so that his existance be without troubles of the mind or body or spirit, but bewarned you who would dare take advantage of this sacred opportunity to be a protector of the grove of Einos, that wrath is swift and let those that fell before you to be an example to those that shall fall after, and take great caution so that the mourning of the loss of Einos shall be a call to legions of the..."

 

John then suddenly snapped out of the trance, and found himself confused and lost, as to where he was. As he looked at the faces of the comrades who had stood shockingly still while listening, he found no answers. As he looked to the horses who seemed dazed and aloof, he found no answers. As he looked, he found no answers, and thus glared at the staff his white knuckles were so desperately gripping.

 

OOC: Ow my back hurts. I was going to add more, but somebody else can do it. I'm in no mood for writing right now...

[Kasmandre]

Most of the party had returned from their various searchings when John began "speaking in tongues" so to speak. Naturally, everyone was shocked. Daryl was the first to overcome his shock and speak.

 

"I think we've about overstayed our welcome. The merchant of this caravan seems like an ungrateful twit and I'd rather leave before he gets any ideas."

 

Usagi agreed. "From the way some of those guards were looking, I don't think they'd be averse to trying a little rabbit meat, if you get my drift. I'd rather not kill them all if I don't have to."

 

Kasmandre, who had been staring at John longer than the rest finally spoke up. "If we're to be on our way, there's no time like the present. John, why don' you take one of the bandits' horses. That way, we won't have you burdening Katzaniel anymore."

 

As quickly as possible, everyone mounted their horses (except for Katzaniel and Usagi, who still preferred their own legs to those of another animal) and gathered at the point where the road entered the trees. Somewhere ahead of them, Griever was ostensibly scouting ahead. Beyond them by about two days ride, was Trelain. Kasmandre thought about what they might find there and what he'd found in the package. And, in the pit of his stomach, he felt fear.

Edited February 19, 2003 by Kasmandre

[Griever]

Griever had rode just ahead of the group, sometimes falling behind. Though he had remained close at all times just incase something dire arose.

 

He made him self known after some inner reflections and greeted the party at a fork in the road half way to Trelain. He had waited there for a good portion of the morning, traffic seemed to divide there.

 

As a small group of familiar faces converged on the mage, he greeted them with a smile and a slight nod from his head.

 

"Hello" Griever said as the group converged onto the shaded spot he picked out on the road to rest. He hadn't noticed a few were missing.

 

The mage walked up to Kasmandre on horseback and shot a smile to his squire behind him.

 

"I really haven't been much of a team player, sorry if you took it for the cold shoulder. Just needed to clear my head of some bad air. So.. where to next?" Griever said inquisitively as he looked at the water stained wooden arrow on with Trelain etched into infront of him. It was near the oak he rested under and also had his horse coal tied onto the support post.

 

Griever packed up his things, snuffed out the embers in the fire and saddled up. He was in a better mood and more open to conversation then before.

 

"So" Griever said as he rode up to the others "Have any problem with any other bandits?" Griever scratched the back of his neck and looked at John.

[Kasmandre]

As the party rode on, Kasmandre retreated once again into his own thoughts. Faintly, he noticed Griever asking John something. This bothered him. Both John and Griever made Kasmandre moderately nervous. Griever because of the way he had looked at Kasmandre before riding off ahead, John...John for other reasons. The two of them talking could mean disaster if they concurred on the wrong points.

 

But aren't you headed for disaster anyway? a voice whispered to him within his head. Over the past few years, he had grown used to hearing this voice. It was a comfort, especially during times when he and the voice's owner were far distant. What he disliked about it was that it sometimes saw more deeply into himself than he wanted to delve. Just like its owner.

 

Kasmandre's first instinct was to shut the voice out. But that was pointless and weak. He considered his actions over the last day or so. He had told the group why he had to go to Trelain, but little else. The past two nights he had had dreams of the Eye of Sha'ran'kom, an artifact long dead (surely it must be gone after everything else), dreams of increasing horror, both of which seemed to bear heavily on their quest. And now he had found those books. He had seen their like long ago, but why would they be here? And if the books were here, if that symbol was here, then maybe...

 

But speculation was pointless, the thrust of the matter was that while he had only a vague idea about the forces that may be gathering before them, his companions had none. Without this information, would they survive? And if they didn't survive, could Kasmandre still succeed?

 

He mulled this thought over and over, bearing inward on it, completely ignoring the other members of the group and their conversations. What would he do? Which way to go?

[Griever]

Griever forced himself to smile as a joke John had told reached it's punchline.

 

"That was a good one" Griever lied through a genuine smile, but he was just being nice. The pair seemed to be the only ones talking right now. The group looked very tired, Katzaniel and Usagi had retired to a nice shady spot underneath the tree when the arrived.

 

Kasmandre remained on horseback in deep contemplation, what he was thinking the mage could only guess.

 

"Hey Griever want to here another joke?" John seemed enthusiastic, probly because he looked and dressed like a jester. Griever ignored the man for a few moments before finally answering, he couldn't see Griever's eyes underneath the white hood of hood. They were narrowing.

 

"I'm not stopping you, do as you please. Tell me more of you jokes" Griever smiled and slumped into the saddle of his horse. He knew John wouldn't resist a chance to show off some of his talent to a fresh audience.

Edited March 4, 2003 by Griever

[Vlad]

John continued telling more jokes, with Griever encougaring him through pursed lips and narrowed eyes. John had noticed something odd about Griever's laugh at the onset, but payed no heed. Any audience is better than no audience, he reasoned.

 

The sun had begun to sink deeper towards the horizon, elongating shadows, making them seem unreal. As John finished a particularly crude joke about shape-shifters, his horse began to stir. Apperantly either Daryl of Katzaniel had heard it, and did something to frighten John's steed. It bagan to trott away from most of the group, fearing for it's safety.

 

John had no idea how to control a horse, and no bright ideas dawned upon him as the creature emerged into a gallop. John tumbled off, ripping part of the reins in the process. His knuckles had become ghastly white from the worry leaking into his death-grip. The horse continued running away, but none from the party cared to follow it.

 

Kasmandre had remained dead to the world, while Greiver silently chuckled to himself. That's the first funny thing that fool's done all day. The animals looked up from their resting spots, but took no action, wisely deciding to conserve energy.

 

Brushing dirt off of his constume, John slowly hobbled back to the group, expecting some sort of a reprimand.

[Kasmandre]

As night fell, the various members of the party set about readying camp: building a fire, hunting for food, cooking dinner. Everyone involved themselves in some aspect, except for John, who no one trusted enough to do anything, and Kasmandre, who was still off in his own world. During the meal, the only talk was John telling jokes to his one man "audience." Everyone else seemed content to watch Griever suffer.

 

After almost everyone was done eating, Kasmandre set aside his untouched meal and cleared his throat. Seeing as he'd hardly made a sound since they left the merchant's caravan, everyone took notice. After a moment, Kasmandre began to speak.

 

"The day after tomorrow, we'll arrive in Trelain. I don't know what we'll find when we get there, but I may have an idea. And quite frankly, I don't like that idea. Before I ask any of you to go one step further, there are a few things I need to tell you about. Sheemie, in my saddlebags, there should be a stack of four books. Could you bring them to me?"

 

As Sheemie ran over to get the books, Kasmandre stared into the fire, composing his next thoughts. Composing himself to tell the things he had never told. The things that perhaps should never be told...

[Gyrfalcon]

Daryl ate quietly, sitting back from the fire in the shadows of a large tree. He could tell by his sense of smell that Katzaniel was resting in the tree now. Minutes earlier, she had bolted her meal quickly and changed into a sleek black panther before darting into the underbrush. Whatever mission she had departed on had been completed successfully, or so the werefox would guess.

 

Looking up, Daryl smiled slightly before returning to eating his meal, nearly complete. Finishing the last bite of rabbit (which he had caught.), the currently human member of this strange band looked around at his companions and shook his head. Crazy, sane, furred or not, they were wildly mismatched- it was a surprise they could fight together at all, but the werefox sensed that while they may be able to fight together, it wasn’t as a team.

 

Getting up, still lost in his thoughts, the werefox silently moved to the nearby stream and washed his dishes clean before storing them in his backpack again. As he closed the backpack, he heard the dry crunch of a fallen leaf being stepped on and looked over his shoulder warily. Daryl relaxed when he saw that it was the robed mage- Griever.

 

“Good evening.” Daryl said politely. Griever looked at him silently for a long moment.

 

“Yes.”

 

Daryl sensed that Griever didn’t want to speak, but he was curious enough to press onward.

 

“If I may ask... how did you come by the name ‘Griever’?”

[Griever]

Griever looked dispationatly at John and sighed. It would be a welcome change to talk to some one else. He turned his head slightly, it shifted his hood so that only the lower half of the mage's face was visible.

 

"I was never given a name when I was borne" Griever muttered as he sat down cross legged. There was some irony to the statement, Archmagi weren't borne, they were ressurected.

 

"Why not" Daryl raised his brow

"Because I just wasn't" Griever said ruefully looking at the werefox. "But people call me Griever maybe because I'm different, or just maybe because I never smile out of happiness."

 

There was a mixed expression on Daryl's face, Griever reached over and slid the hood of his head. His eyes beamed of dark cobalt in the firelight.

 

"So" Griever mused and picked up a leaf that had fallen on his robes

"How did you become a werefox?"

Edited March 9, 2003 by Griever

[Gyrfalcon]

Daryl laughed, smiling easily, for it was a question that had been asked of him before.

 

“Actually, I was a thief at the time. I was making my way home from a succesful burglary when this giant... thing... came out of the shadows and slammed me into a wall. I was nearly killed by the werefox before a... woman... named Gloria showed up and managed to find its heart with a silver dagger. She dragged me home, and I survived the night... long enough for lycanthropy to take hold in me. A few nights later, I Changed and escaped.” Daryl explained.

 

Griever raised an eyebrow despite himself, for the story was interesting. “How long ago was this?”

 

Daryl shrugged. “Lets see... something onto three or four years. I haven’t kept the best track of time- life’s usually too interesting to add up time across several worlds.”

 

“Several worlds?”

 

Daryl winced unnoticeably, then shrugged. “I’m not originally from this world. A battle with a mage sent me to another world, one that has two skies... I tried to find my way home from their, but I ended up here instead.” Daryl grinned. “Since I found some friendly, non-judgmental people, I’ve been in no hurry to go home, since the same reception isn’t true there.”

 

He eyed Griever curiously. “How did you become a mage, anyway?”

[Griever]

Griever could have told the truth, but he doubted that the Werefox would have understood or belived him.

 

"I learned from a spell book, just like any other mage" The lie was appearent, but not so as to be percived as a strait out lie.

 

Had he told him that he was an archmagi would have been laughable.

 

"So" Griever looked up curiously, "What is your personal reason for traveling with Kasmandre?"

[The Big Pointy One]

Usagi yawned from the tree banch where he was currently perched. The recent day had certainly taken a minor toll. Nothing a good night's sleep couldn't cure; if Usagi felt like sleeping, and he didn't. He shifted his gaze from the campfire to the night sky. His mind raced through different thoughts. He thought about his father, he thought about his friends, and he thought about his travelling party. He thought about the future. Secretly, he feared that when he was needed most he'd screw up. Usagi was like that, although all but a select few knew it. He did his best, as often as possible, and it showed. However, inside, he was dangerously insecure of his abilities as a warrior. He knew he was good, but he always thought he could be better. The rabbit sighed, and shrugged it off. There was nothing he could do but his best, and take things as they came. It was the only way through it all.

 

Returning his attention back to the camp again, Usagi noticed he felt pretty empty-stomached. Reaching into his small shoulder pack, he pulled out a miniature piece of bread and tore it into pieces. He nibbled on the morsels empty-mindedly then munched on a carrot. Eventually everyone went to rest, so Usagi took it upon himself to take first watch.

 

 

OOC: Gah, substance. Oh and I don't know if you wanted to take liberty here, Kas, or not, so I figured everyone just headed off to sleep. If they didn't, well, I suppose everyone can just disregard my last tidbit then, can't they?

[Vlad]

Seeing that Griever had been 'stolen' from him by Daryl, John looked to other ways of keeping himself occupied. After a good hearty meal, which he managed to steal portions of from Kasmandre's, John felt the need to take a nap. He had just begun to get cozy near the fire, when Kasmandre spoke. Curious, John half-slept, half-listened to what the mage had to say...

 

After Kasmandre sent Sheemie to get the books, John got up and drudged towards the leader of this ramshackle group. Kasmandre took no notice, seemingly distracted by other things, but John spoke anyways.

 

When I was a young kid, well, not that young... But I was small, so I looked young, my mommy would always tell me a story. I don't remember that story, but I will always remember the moral of that story, which is that you should... ... ...

 

It's not important, what is important is that-

 

Before finishing his sentence John fell to his knees and started sobbing. Between tears he tried to speak, but only gibberish came out. His judgement blurred along with his vision, John grabbed the horse's leg and began gnawing on it.

 

OOC: Feel free to jump in anytime

[Griever]

Griever was sitting under the shady boughs of the oak tree, his head tucked into his knees as he leaned back on the thick trunk.

 

The loud cry from a horse destroyed his train of thought. He had been going over in his head some of his past memories of childhood, Griever couldn't remember anything. That was disturbing.

 

"Wha... what was that?" Griever's voice was wispy as he lifted his head in time to see John get tossed like a rag. A single kick from the massive beast sent the man reeling to the ground. He rolled, anticipating another, and barley avoided getting stomped on.

 

The horse broke free and ran off into the night wildly. Griever lifted one of his brows and narrowed his eyes, a wry smile formed on his lips.

 

"Amusing..." griever put his head back down into his knees. "But I suppose we might have to go look for his horse... drat."

[Gyrfalcon]

Daryl sighed and lay back as the horse charged off into the night, Kasmandre rushing to organize a pursuit of the horse before it got too far away. Their leader slowed to a stop as he regarded Griever, who was resting with his head on his knees, and Daryl, who was sprawled out and looking up at the crescent moon.

 

“Aren’t you two coming?” he asked. Griever looked up, then slowly stood, and Daryl smoothly rolled to his feet.

 

“What is it about us and horses?” he asked Griever as they walked to their own mounts. “If it isn’t my horse freaking out because I just Changed on its back, it’s that... jester’s... horse freaking out because he started gnawing on it.”

 

Griever shrugged. “If the horses are the greatest of our worries.” he said softly as he began to saddle his own, “Then we will have an easy time of it.” The mage turned his attention to saddling his horse, making it clear he wasn’t looking to converse any further.

 

Daryl shook his head and looked over at Katzaniel, who was in his tigertaur form at the moment. “How are you holding up, Katzaniel?” he asked. The tigertaur looked irritable.

 

“Oh, fine... but did this have to come right when I was sleeping?” he replied, and Daryl chuckled.

 

“Of course.” the werefox said, patting his horse’s neck. Surprisingly, the gelding didn’t start to panic for once- maybe he was finally growing used to Daryl’s scent. Shrugging, the werefox hauled himself into the saddle and heeled his horse forward, followed by Katzaniel and Griever.

 

The trio gathered with the rest by Kasmandre. “We’ll search in pairs if we lose the trail- hopefully the horse didn’t go too far. If you don’t find anything, return by the time the moon reaches its zenith.” Kasmandre instructed.

 

Various sounds of agreement came from the group before they paired up and rode towards where the horse disappeared.