The Journey(R)

Before any of the others could answer Nine, the man named Torik stood up and made his speech.

"Excuse me, fellow hunters! I apologize, but I must be off. I am sure you must do the same, to prepare for the beginning of our journey together tomorrow. I will see you all soon. Take care!"

With that, Nine turned and walked into the tavern. There, he signed up for the journey to slay the dragon, and was quickly accepted thanks to the usefulness of his skills. He then left. He had no reason to stay as alcohol had no effect on him. He needed not to eat or drink. Nor did he need to sleep or rest in any kind of way, so he stayed up the whole night. He patrolled the streets of the city, keeping an eye out for any miscreants causing mayhem on the streets at night. When morning came, he made his way to the northern gate, where he saw Torik and several horses. Unfortunately, Nine was too heavy for a horse. He would crush the poor beast. Luckily, he had the strength and endurance to keep up with people on horses.

Rico woke up the following morning with a shuddering groan. He dared not open his eyes, already feeling the stinging pain from the sunlight through his lids. His stomach was terribly twisting. Small men with hammers pounded on the inside of his skull. Why in the world did he feel so horrible? He strained to open his eyes, breaking away the Sandman's gift. The first thing he saw was a bottle of rum, laying on its side, completely empty. Well, that would explain that, then. But why did his cheek feel so sore? And his feet! In fact, his entire lower body was in pain. Rico momentarily panicked, lifting the sheet to check his most valued accessory (besides his bottomless pouch), breathed a sigh of relief, and leaned his head back on the pillow.

He laid there for a minute or two, attempting to assuage his headache. He gave up after a while. He swore to never drink again as he swung his feet out to meet the floorboards. He sat in that position for a while as well. It was slow moving on days like this. In fact, it took him almost twenty minutes to get dressed and get downstairs. 

As he walked down the stairs, he gripped on the railing with a tight hold. His brown eyes scanned the area as slowly as he could, considering any movement made his stomach turn. He saw the barkeeper cleaning out a glass and glaring ferociously at him. Of course, the cheery vagabond waved as best as he could, grimacing at the pain. People walked up and down the stairs, passing by him like they were super speedy. He wasn't sure how in the world they managed that when everything was all... fuzzy. Maybe some people were good at walking on fuzzy things. Fuzzy like fluffy. Fluffy like bunny. Bunnies hop. Hopping makes headaches worse. Rico winced and raised his hand up to his head. Just the idea of hopping sent a needle through his brain.

Finally, the hungover rogue made it to the bottom of the stairs. He didn't stay there very long, although, as a sound he knew all too well approached. Rico froze in fear, barely having the courage to turn his head towards the source. That sound was the angry walk of an angry woman. He looked to see who was approaching just in time to see a petite palm come towards his face, smacking his cheek exactly where it throbbed beforehand. Bright lights exploded in Rico's mind as his ears rang and his headache screamed. He crumpled to the floor without a fight.

"Yer nothing but a scoundrel, Rico Rodriguez!" Shouted the wench, "I told ya I weren't a wench but yer dumb drunk mind didn't know that, now did it?" Her hands were on her hips, her foot tapping furiously. Rico was too busy cradling his head to pay attention. "And despite me lover throwing ya into the table," Oh, that explains the body aches and the glare, "Ya still had to insist that I had a price. Well, shame on ya, Rico!" She shouted, "I hope ya never show yer face around here again!"

Rico peeled his eyes open to look at the woman. Her ample bosom was heaving up and down, her mountainous flesh visible. Rico slowly rose to his feet and simply said, "Chu know, maybe if chu didn't dress like that, I wouldn't think chu was a whore."

Not waiting to hear the screams or to see how red her face was, Rico bolted out of the door.

Amat sighed and simply told Torik, "I have no need of a mount, so long as I bear my wings," her words then walked to the in to accept the quest properly before simply leaving the inn and walking north, waiting on the northern edge of the town, sitting on an elevated position boredly.

The woman didn't sleep, however. Rico's antics somehow plagueing her mind and forbidding her the task she set herself of thinking more about the man who's name was on her amulet. She growled lowly to herself, cursing the rogue for distracting her thoughts.

As he hours rolled by her gaze turned from the night-time sky, to the ground, silently watching the first rays of dawn wash over the land, giving in to a slight desire to sing softly. The song that emitted was one she learned centuries ago and was thus in an ancient language few knew.

"Oh, well," Meera said to Theodore, "I just wanted to join you all."

She turned toward Torik as he started to speak. "It seems we should go sign up, then!"

Meera went to the inn and signed up. Seeing as how she didn't have anything else to do and she wasn't tired, she waited at a table. She watched what happened to Rico and felt sorry for him, "Poor guy."

After a while, she decided to leave and wait in the night for morning.

The more time passed, the more fellow adventurers, warriors and gifted people alike would join the call for slaying the dragon. In addition to the scoundrel Rico Rodriguez and the mysterious celestial-kin, an Elf came to join shortly after Meera. After him came the giantess from before. Thereafter came a shady-looking man with a rather strange crow perching over his shoulder. And finally, a most interesting being appeared from the crowd to join their cause, a being made of armor. With all these strange individuals here, it was beyond the shadow of a doubt that Theodore Shadowbane will have his hands full watching over some of these individuals.

Albeit undertaking this quest mainly to put an end to the Dragon’s evil, he had taken an interest in the would-be heroes who volunteered to bring the mighty beast down. What would drive people to challenge such a powerful opponent? To take such a being down, it requires a tremendous amount of power, a power that can also be used to do evil. It is not rare for Bane to actually be on the lookout for his own partners, gauging if they could be potential threat in the future. Such occurrences rarely happened in the past, but some events showed him he couldn’t let his guard down. He could clearly remember one of his former companion, a pyromaniac nicknamed “The Phoenix”. Despite questing for evil, this peculiar individual went mad with power and tried to kill Theodore’s whole adventuring party with the burning flames of insanity. In the end, Theodore put the mad pyromancer to rest, but at a great cost. Ever since that day, the Witch Hunter was warier than he ever was.

Theodore would’ve taken this opportunity to sense the auras of his future partners, but a man stepped up where the crier was and announced himself as Torik Valgard, envoy of the King himself to ensure peace was restored to his kingdom by defeating the monstrous Dragon. From his words and his stance, Theodore recognized the man as a famed and experienced warrior in the kingdom. For such a man to be informing a bunch of misfit dragonslayers, the problem was dire indeed. Heeding the words of the man representing the King’s wishes, Theodore Shadowbane nodded to himself as soon as the officer stopped talking, pointing them to the inn. Gallantly, the Witch Hunter rose his hat to the few adventurers he would soon call “partners”.

“It seems like our objective is set. It will be a pleasure to meet you all again tomorrow.” Bane told the group as he put his hat back onto his head, now concealing his eyes.

Theodore excused himself as he passed through the crowd to reach his horse, who had been obediently waiting at the same spot for the time his master was occupied. Standing beside the horse, the mage-slayer took the horse’s reins in his hands and motioned the horse to walk beside him. Before going to the inn and stay in town for the rest of the day, Theodore wanted to make sure his mount had some place to eat and rest before the trip tomorrow. Despite trusting his mighty steed to valiantly take him wherever he wanted to go, Theo was caring for his trusty companion and wanted it to be at its peak to undergo the journey they were about to take. It took but a few minutes and gold pieces to reach the local stables and house the Witch Hunter’s steed safely for tomorrow. In the morning, Bane would come back for his horse and meet the others, all set for the mission.

After making sure his steed was properly lodged, Theodore made his way back to the inn mentioned before by Torik Valgard, where he would sign up for the dragon-slaying task. Among many others. After signing up and speaking with a few curious individuals who wanted to know more about him, the Witch Hunter ordered a few mugs of ale at a table on the far side of the tavern, where he was amongst the shady individuals who preferred to be at peace rather than being interrupted by the casual rabble of the inn.

For most of the day, Theodore was sitting at his table, his back leaning against the wall and feet on the table, quietly drinking his alcohol and smoking while listening to gossips going all around town and the kingdom. Always seeking out evil mages to root out, Theodore was actively hearing to others conversations in case he might overhear rumors of wicked individuals to put down. Such were the ways the Witch Hunter get to know his targets.

By evening, Theodore walked to the innkeeper and asked for a room, paying a few coins for it. He went upstairs just before witnessing Rico being thrown at a nearby table, who was obviously causing a scene because he mistook a lightly-dressed engaged woman for a prostitute. He hoped there wouldn’t be that much ruckus tonight, for he wanted to rest his body and soul for the next day.


Early in the morning, before the sun even began to rise on the horizon, Theodore Shadowbane was already awake. It took him a few minutes to get up from bed and get in gear, strapping his armor into place and placing his claymore on his back. Today was the beginning of another journey. He wasn’t a materialistic kind of man, but Theodore could not help but wonder what the reward was waiting for them after they would get back alive. Killing a dragon was a reward by itself, for the honor and fame it brought, but surely such a task was well-rewarding too. With this in mind, Theodore finished gearing himself up and went downstairs, ordering a breakfast before setting out to take his steed back from the stables.

Despite this, it was still too early in the morning for the others to meet up. As such, Bane took the opportunity to take a stroll in the quiet streets of Northwind, breathing the fresh and cool air of the morning. He would do so until the sun was beginning to rise, and the dragonslaying party to gather up in front of the inn.

After signing up, Vaxal headed to the bar as well. His Raven perched on the sign above the entrance, a wrom clutched in it's beak which it quickly swallowed. Vaxal chuckled to himself. "Bet that's a lovely gourmet dinner for you, isn't it?" The he headed into the bar. Vaxal fiddled with some coins in his pocket. There was a very god likelyhood he would die soon and the gold would be meaningless. He stepped up to the barkeep and three all of the gold coins on the table. "Round of drinks for everyone. On me!" He exclaimed gleefully.

The next morning, Vaxal awoke to the worst hangover of his life. It should be noted that, up until this point, he had never had a drop of alcohol. Why he had even thought of drinking the stuff, he would never know. He stood and dressed, the continual pounding of pain running through his head. He found one meager gold coin left in the pocket of his pants and left it on the dresser for the beautiful black haired beauty resting in the bed... (who he would years later find out was named Greg.)

After making sure he had his things, he headed downstairs and outside. He wasn't sure where to go, but soon saw some horses near the front gate. Hopping atop one, he whistled to his bird. A few seconds later the raven was perched on his shoulder, a half eaten eyeball now cluctched in it's beak. "Man, you just keep finding all sorts of delicacies don't you?" He said as he chuckled to himself.

Whether he knew it or not, the sword that Old Man Magee cave Alexandra was a significant relic from the earlier days of the nation, or at least Alexandra figured that it must have been based on what the local blacksmith gave her for it. In addition to the sword she had sought she received a full set of armor and a great shield. In her arms, the shield looked more like a butler, and the two handed claymore looked and felt like a standard long sword, or it would have if she had any sort of previous training. To Alexandra it was just an awkward piece of metal, but one day soon, she knew, it would feel like an extension of her own body. She just needed to practice.

She affectionately gazed at her new armor and weapons, well new to her at least. A keen eye would have noticed the way the steel no longer shined and the small impressions from prior damage the smith was unable to mend quite perfectly. Then came the matter of fit and adequate protection. The claim that she received a full set of armor was a bit misleading. Nothing in stock was her size, the smith had to stretch and thin the armor to get it over her. Even then, the plate body only covered her ribcage, and the skirt only covered half of her thighs, leaving a gap from there to shin braces. She kept her work clothes on underneath to stay covered and to keep the armor from rubbing.

One day Alexandra herself might come to realize that the merchant had received the better end of the bargain, as trader herself she should have known already, but now was not a time for rational thought on her part. To her it felt like her birthday, her sixth one to be precise, when she had received her very own horse. That year stood out because it was the first time she considered herself a grown-up. Now that she was dressed the part, it was time for her to play the hero she had always dreamed of being.
The seemingly wondrous trade had left her rather short on funds. While proven and true heroes stayed for free, heroes to be did not. To save her silver and bronze, she opted to stay at a farmhouse instead. The owners agreed to let her sleep with the animals in return for some work. The experience was nothing new to her, although even her parents had found it odd when they found her sleeping in the stables.

She worked with great haste like she always had, and with the limited work found herself finishing early. Early enough that she still had an hour to practice swordplay before sunset. She started by moving around awkwardly. After strafing back and forth and moving forward and back….she continued to move around awkwardly. Whenever she swung she found herself stumbling forward and to the side. She even fell flat on her face more than a few times. Luckily she had cleaned the area and lied fresh hay before starting. When she managed to stay standing it wasn't unusual for her to unintentionally bash her weapon or body into the nearby building. Luckily each time she hit a support. At least that way she didn't cause any serious damage to anything, although the animals started when the walls and roof shook around them. After sunset she found a lantern and practiced a few more hours into the night, not that it did much good. She ultimately gave up when the fatigue made it impossible to grip the handle. Maybe it would be easier just to strangle the dragon.

Not to let her difficulties in the beginning deter her, she rose early to start again. She had already sweat through her clothes by time the local farmers had come around. He permitted her to continue as she had already paid for and she was no longer bothering the animals. They had already grown used to it, as if they knew she would never manage to actually hit anything, except when the sword when flying out of her hand, but that only happened two……..three times. "Not again!" Now she owed the farmer a chicken.

Casually strolling about town in the morning, Theodore took this opportunity to further visit the city. Albeit being a wanderer, the man had a keen interest in investigating the towns he frequently visited in order to find places of interest that could potentially help him in his hunts. Such places usually included magical laboratories, arcaneums, libraries and mage guilds. Despite being an unwelcomed individual by most for his talents, Bane is usually met with the inquired information, be it either for the Magi’s eagerness to see him go as soon as possible or out of justice to see a faulty fellow Mage being punished for the crimes committed.

Much of the places of interest were closed due to being so early in the morning, but it did not matter much to the Witch Hunter. He visiting the area was mainly out of knowing a bit about the Northwind and how grand was this settlement. He had heard several rumors of this place, but Theodore never set foot in Northwind yet. In fact, Bane rarely set foot in a city for long, or at all. Used to wander, Theodore’s home was in the wilderness. The only needs he had in the city was for repairing his equipment, and buy supplies for the road. Most part of that lifestyle was also due to an elven Ranger by the name of Cyrawn Dae. An interesting and mysterious individual that he used to be friend with until the day they had to go on their own ways, as each had different duties to take care off. Cyrawn taught the Witch Hunter how to hunt and survive in the wilderness for the months they spent together. By the time they bade each other farewell, Theodore learned much and was able to fend off for himself in the wild. Because of that, it intensified his desire to stay far from the more civilized settlements, preferring to stop by the home of nomads and famous elven tree-perched villages.

Lost in his thoughts of old days, the Witch Hunter stopped his steed as he heard the sound of metal hitting against wood, stone or metal. Curious as to who would do such sounds early in the morning, Bane steered his horse towards a farmhouse just a few distance away from the city’s wall. Coming upon the fence that was limiting the farm’s land, he saw a young woman of tall height swinging a sword about. To his surprise, he thought he recognized the giant woman as one of those standing with the others would-be Dragonslayers. Judging from the way she was swinging her weapon, she was clearly new at this. Looking at her sword, it felt as if she was swinging a disproportionate longsword. Added to her skills, the weapon itself wouldn’t help. Was she really part of those who would take part in a quest to slay the dragon?

Overthinking wasn’t in Bane’s personality though, he figured as he jumped off from his horse with a faint smile and hopped from the farm’s fence to join the giantess in the backyard. By the time he jumped off his horse, the inexperienced warrior accidentally threw her sword, hitting a chicken square. Theodore’s faint smile turned into a wide grin, but it was not a mocking smile, but rather a cheerful one.

“You tryin’ to lop off heads at a distance with that weapon, girl?” Theodore said with a joking tone as he walked to Alexandria.

Meera awoke among a some wildlife in the woods. It would appear she fell asleep while playing with some animals. She quietly left the woods and made her way to the northern gate where she saw the one who was Nine.

She walked up to him and said, "Hi, my name is Meera."

Amat sighed as she vacated her elevated watch and headed into the air, finally breakng a smile and taking the time in the thinner air to fix her hair a little before looking back at the town her wings were keeping her above. as viliagers awoke and went about their actions it was a being larger than a human, approached by the armoured male from the day before. Inerested in what the male saw in the large female se banked her wings and entered a half glide/half fall decent pulling up to land wth a dull thud and a rising of dust around the hem of her dress.

Taking a glance at the Trajectory of the sword and watching it hit the chicken her mind also took note of the woman's stance. The throw was not intentional in her eyes and she smiled. running over what she'd observed in her mind in a bit more detail as she walked up nodding to each in turn, "Good morning." she greeted, her wings half-open, as one of her fingers fiddles with one of the white feathers, as her attention moved to the female, "I don't think we've met before, are you another ho as taken up the dragon slaying quest?" She asked, her mood having obviously brightened having spent the night free of both sleep and annoyances.

"Well, hello then, Meera. My name is Nine, of the House of Durel."

Nine pointed at his chest, where his family crest was located.

"I am he who carries on the legacy of my father before me by aiding those less fortunate. I have joined the quest to slay the dragon. Is that the same reason you are here?"

"Yes it is," Meera answered. She admired the crest on his chest, interesting.

"I apologize if I am rude with asking this question, but, you are not 'living'?"

And so our heroes awoke the next morning ready to tackle a new challenge. No more would they be farming or tending the crops, or traveling the land. They would be riding into a dangerous region north of the city, which the locals have taken to calling Bandit Country, and rightfully so.

At the northern were about fifteen horses, hitched and overcrowded in a stable that would normally hold about eight of the beasts. They were all different shapes and colors and fit for the journey ahead, Torik made sure of it.

But who would lead this group, if anyone? Where would they go, what would they see? What choices would they make? Who would they encounter? Do enemies, or allies lie beyond the horizon?

A lone path exited the northern gates, a stable on the east-side, and the road continued on straight northward into a dense forest, where it would twist and wind it's way around trees, brush, over rivers and creeks, and more. Plenty of game to hunt and a few clearings to camp out in as well.

Nine was intrigued by Meera's question.

"I suppose that depends on what you mean by 'alive'. If I am required to be composed of flesh, then I suppose I am not 'alive'. I know I am very different from everyone else, but I am much the same in many aspects. I have emotion just the same."


After the conversation with Meera was over, everyone else in the dragon-hunting party began to show up. When everyone had arrived, they all departed from the city. Most of the others (save for a couple) continued on horseback, but Nine continued on foot. He could keep up, so long as they kept at an average pace. He wouldn't get tired out either. They would, however. Eventually they would have to make camp.

"So maybe we should all make acquaintance with each other since we are going to be companions, eh?" Nine suggested.

"I am Nine, son of Balthador, of the House of Durel. And you all...?"

Vaxal rode up behind Nine. His horse was a black stallion with a long white mane that had been braided with red string, giving it a demonic appearance.

"House Durel? I've heard that name. The dwarves of your clan created the machines that my father used to till the fields." He bowed over slightly to Nine. "My name is Vaxal Sunderborn. Some call me the Demonic Archer, though I have no idea in the slightest where they got that nickname. I don't even OWN a bow."

"It is good to meet your acquaintance, Vaxal Sunderborn!" Nine exclaimed.

"I do hope my family's machines served your father well! I am not acquainted with farm life, however."

"I do not need a horse," Meera said. There was a near-blinding light that surrounded her. When the light dimmed the was a unicorn in her place. Then she galloped alongside the horses as they went.

As they rode on, an uneasiness settled over Vaxal. The images his raven sent to him were blurry and slightly skewed, but they usually gave Vaxal a clear bird's eye view of the area. He could se some shadows moving around in the trees and THAT is what first set bells off in his mind. "Hold!" He yelled to the group. Immediately the party came to a standstill.

"Up the road is a group of rogues. Possibly ten to fifteen, all of which are well equiped. I can only assume that this is a small party and there are more nearby. Any suggestions?"

Amat stayed quiet as she followed the group, flying on her six feathered wings, her eyes alert and scanning ahead for anything out of the ordinary, her hand absently moving to grasp her amulet, "This are feels... familiar," She finally said outloud before her flight shifted to bring her alongside Nine.

"You're a curious being, Nine... Not to worry you but your prsence is... different to others and it makes the seraph half of me... uneasy," she said then added, "My name is Amat," her attention shifted and her wings beat in a different direction bringing her steady flight to a halt, "Rogues?"

She closed her eyes breifly before saying, "Flanking such a group won't be viable with small numbers, and the terrain makes for poor amushes. Strike them hard and ensure that, if this is a scouting party, they do not suvive. I'd rather not have to bail you out of a large scale ambush." She said, balling her right fist before opening it, palm up, her elemental aegis floating down to her hand.

Standing tall on his valiant black steed, Theodore met with the group of would-be Dragonslayers at the stable. Everyone seemed quiet for the moment, and they departed in a similar silent fashion when they rode out of town, all on top of their horses. A few peasants had gathered along the path to exit the village so they would witness the either foolish adventurers or brave heroes ride on their way out to the city. Be their group foolish or brave, the villagers hoped this band of odd beings would have what it takes to put a stop to the dragon. It was the first time for Bane to see such a mass of people gathering to wish their well on their journey. Usually, his missions were done in secret, away from the prying eyes. He only knew the welcome back banquets when his missions were a success.

At some point after they rode out of town, the quiet group of adventurers seemed to lighten up, the strange being called “Nine proposed the others to get acquainted, before hearing one member of their party mentioning something about a group of rogues waiting for them further ahead. Like everybody, Theodore brought his horse to a halt, listening to what the others had to say about the possible threat ahead. The winged lady named “Amat” suggested that they would need to strike them hard, as the terrain was not fit for ambushes and flanking. Tipping his hat upwards, the Witch Hunter looked at the others.

“The King’s representative said we would travel across Bandit Country first. Those rogues might be a group of such low-lives and cutthroats that inhabits the region. My past travels brought me to this area more than once, so I’ve begun to get a grasp on the local area. Up ahead is a dense forest that I believe we must cross to get where we need to go. Good place to camp and hunt, but it’s also the perfect spot to get ambushed. If you say there are enemies up ahead, we should proceed with caution, and travel off from our horses. If you walk beside your horse, you’re less open for arrows and less prone to have rogues jumping at you from the trees.” Theodore advised the group, having traveled across the country a few times on a mission to hunt down a Rogue Mage.

“Heh… if they are not after our valuables, they are sure to be after my head. I’ve hunted a few of their rogue mages, they sure will be willing to get me back at it.” The Witch Hunter added with a grin.

Seeing as the forest was not so far away, Theodore heeded his own counsel and dismounted his steed, taking the reins and standing beside his companion. He felt uneasy to use his good horse as a shield from one side, but as he said earlier, traveling the forest on horseback would only make him open for bandits’ arrows. Not only that, but Theodore’s horse was bigger than most steeds: if a Rogue would jump at him on horseback, his fall from the horse might prove to be dangerous.

Readying himself for a battle, Bane unsheathed his claymore, Witch Slayer. Sensing the magical auras of its wielder's allies, the sword began to glow eerily with an aura of emptiness around it. Theodore felt the blade's lust to devour magic, which set off his own hate of magic, but he knew best to keep that hate onside and unleash it on those who deserved such wrath.

Nine kept silent for a moment, listening to the others' suggestions. But then he piped in with a suggestion of his own.

"As you can probably tell, I am mostly impenetrable to damage. The less-than-adequate weapons these rogues most likely possess will merely glance off my skin. As such, I suggest I charge into their ambush as a distraction. I will be fine long enough for you all to get the drop on them."