SUMMER

Angkar: Wet season. Precipitation is common during the late afternoon and evening hours. Vegetation grows significantly during the summer, but flooding is a danger due to the monsoons that ravage the country. The rainforest sees evenly distributed rainfall throughout the season.

Ashoka: Desert: Extremely hot and dry. Violent, heavy downpours following long dryspells. Jungle: Hot and humid with frequent, violent rainstorms.

Morrim: Relatively hot and dry, but with a chance of thunderstorms from time to time. The heat may cause forest fires.

Soto: Hot and humid, tree cover is dense while ground growth is restricted. Thunderstorms see the most amount of rainfall during the season, and it can be very windy. On occasion, there are flash floods that can destroy homes and farms built on flood plains.

ANNOUNCEMENTS

March 30th, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has changed hands and is now under new management! If you have any questions, please direct them to DaringRaven! As for the rest of the announcements, including a season change, you can find them over here at the following link!

January 16, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has a new skin, all thanks to Mel! Don't forget to check out the new OTMs as well!

December 2, 2017 Winter has settled on Elenlond, bringing sleep for some and new life for others.

September 26, 2017 With the belated arrival of autumn come some interesting developments: new OTMs, a Town Crier and the release of the Elly Awards winners!

July 14, 2017 After a bit of forum clean-up, Elly Awards season has arrived! Head on over to make your nominations!

May 31, 2017 Summer has arrived and so has activity check! That's not all though – we also have some new OTMs for you and some staff changes!


WHAT IS ELENLOND?

Elenlond is an original free-form medieval fantasy RPG set on the continent of Soare and the Scattered Isles, which are located to the south in the Sea of Diverging Waters. The four chief nations of the western side of the world—Ashoka in northern Soare, Soto in western Soare, Morrim in eastern Soare, and Angkar, the largest of the Scattered Isles—continue to experience growth and prosperity since the fall of the Mianorite gods, although power struggles within the countries—or outside of them—continue to ensue.


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  • CURRENT EVENTS

    Angkar: To honour the reinvigoration of the ancient city of Mondrágon, the majestic Queen Eulalia has permitted the opening of a Coliseum where people from around the world and all walks of life can test their combat skills against one another. Many have already done battle in search of honour, glory, prizes and money.

    Ashoka: In an otherwise peaceful times, Ashokans are beset with the relatively minor inconveniences of wandering undead and occasionally-aggressive giant rock worms. There has also been some controversy over the recent re-legalisation of human sacrifice.

    Morrim: Rumour has it that Emperor Leofric de Hollemark is mustering forces for a war. Though the threat from Soto’s forests has passed, the forces previously employed in watching the forest now linger at the border. Rumours also circulate of a small group that has been dispatched to make contact with the tribes of the Do’suul Mountains.

    Soto: The Sotoans have defeated the fey and liberated themselves from Méadaigh’s oppression! Preliminary efforts have been made at rebuilding the city of Madrid, which had been captured at the beginning of the war. However, the Sotoans are hindered from recovery famine. Méadaigh’s magic caused summer to persist in the Erth’netora Forest through the winter. Her power has been withdrawn and the plants die as if preparing for winter – even though it is now summer. The Sotoans must sustain off what food they can get, what creatures they can kill and what can be imported into the city from Morrim and Angkar.

    For a fuller description of our most recent events, check out our most recent edition of The Town Crier!

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    Welcome to our home, a world in which anything can happen. From sprawling deserts and vast forests to massive volcanoes and luscious hot springs, Soare and the Scattered Isles are beautiful places just waiting to be explored. For the brave and the bold or the cautious and the wary, creatures of all kinds roam the earth, looking for adventure or for a place to call their own. Species of all kinds - the well-known and the unknown - thrive here, though not always in harmony.

    Elenlond is an original medieval fantasy RPG with a world that's as broad as it is unique. Calling on characters of all kinds, the sky's the limit in a world where boundaries are blurred and the imagination runs rampant. Restrictions are limited and members are encouraged to embrace their creativity, to see where they can go and what they can do. It's no longer just text on a page - it becomes real.

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    Lifting the Curse; For Sphynx and one other, PM for invite!
    Topic Started: Apr 18 2011, 08:20 AM (478 Views)
    Darrius Flamewing
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    Darrius yet again found himself wandering the wasted Morrim landscape. Since the malady that so afflicted that unfortunate nation had been lifted, green things began to return to the land. Grass was once again sprouting up, and leaves seemed to be budding once again.

    The level of damage done was brutal, though. Much of the more ancient forests would never grow green again, never know the sound of the wind rustling through their leaves. Wildlife would never return to these plague-ridden areas, the animals turned away when the land went sour.

    Thus it was that the hunter found himself wandering the roads to the north. Though Morrim was finally finding some semblance of peace, Darrius was still haunted. The Demon-Skin Coat still had its hold on Darrius, the demon within still vying for power over Darrius' soul. Darrius knew that he must remove the armor, lest he succumb to Asmophet's power.

    The hunter continued walking on the road, hearing the soft crunch of the dirt under his leather boots. Finding nothing else to do to pass the time, he began whistling an ancient tune of his homeland. The tune was light and cheery, and carried with it a campy, march-like tune. Keeping time with the crunching of his boots on the path, Darrius tromped along the beaten path.

    Time passed, and the sun reached its zenith in the middle of the sky. The air was warm, the conditions of the sky promising only more heat. Beneath his tunic, the hunter felt the armor absorbing the sunlight. Gold-Fang, Darrius' beast companion whimpered as he felt the pain coursing through his body. The empathic bond the hunter and his companion shared was unbreakable, regardless of the cost.

    We will need to get out of this sun before long, my friend, Darrius told the wolf. The next settlement cannot be too far ahead.

    Like a sign from the gods, Hunter and Wolf crested the next hill, and there was a small village. Several small houses clustered around a chapel and a larger inn. The Hunter heaved a sigh of relief, running his hands through his wolf companion's fur.

    Looks like we're in luck, Gold Fang, the Hunter said to the wolf. We will have a warm bed and well-cooked food donight.

    Any meal is better than your cooking, old friend, Gold Fang quipped. Darrius smiled and ruffled the wolf's hair again.

    The Hunter and his Wolf entered the village and found their way through the narrow-winding streets to the inn. The Wooden sign hanging above the door swung lightly in the breeze, reading The Wyvern's Wing. Darrius smelled roasting meat and potatoes within, and knew that he was in for a treat. His stomach growling, the ranger opened the door.

    When he crossed the threshold, he found himself surrounded by friendly faces, many of them muttering stories to one another about their travels. A group of elves sat in the back of the room, sharing mulled wine and a bowl of mixed fruit. Darrius strode up to the bar, and a rotund man answered, a mug in one hand, and a rag in the other.

    What can I get for you, young master? the bartender said in a stereotypically jovial voice.

    My friend and I would like a room for the night, Darrius said. And the best food in your larder. The Hunter untied a small bag from his belt, and dumped a few gold coins onto the bar. The bartender's eyes lit up, and he scooped the coins into his apron.

    Hey, blue-eyes, the bartender called into the kitchen. Bring our friend here some of our reserve boar meat, and a bone for the wolf!

    Darrius gratefully walked to the back of the tavern, taking up a table near the elves. Taking his seat, he waited for the barmaid to bring his meal.
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    Sphynx
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    Oil on Fire

    Sphynx was having the oddest day. For one thing, she had finally taken a chance to explore a larger area of the world since it was finally getting put back together. Soto hadn’t come out the war completely unscathed, partially at her own fault, but Morrim was far worse. As much as she hadn’t wanted to think about the details of the past many months at first, after a while she learned that there was a certain therapy in seeing the regrowth that came out of such misery.

    The past few days have been spent travelling the more rural areas of Morrim, seeing how the people were coping and officially lending a hand from the Council of Soto where necessary. They had sent with her an envoy of food and gold to help the people, but after a few days it had already dwindled to almost nothing.

    She had done what she had come to do, and it should be time to go home. And yet after arriving in this hamlet the night before, one thing or the next kept her there longer than necessary. First a wheel on her carriage had broken, and the local carpenter and blacksmith volunteered to work together free of charge to fix it. Not long after that, there had been an incident between two neighbors who requested official assistance in settling a land dispute, and she grudgingly obliged. Finally the inn keeper had offered her a free night’s stay in return for all of the assistance to the village, and it would have been rude of her to turn it down.

    What had started out seemingly like a nightmare turned into a rather pleasant evening. The wine was flowing, though she herself did not drink a drop, and food was plenty. A pair of minstrels had provided music for the evening, and by the end of the night, Sphynx found that she knew almost everyone in the town on a first name basis.

    She now found herself at the table with a group of elves, conversing in happy, somewhat raucous tones. Already she had stayed longer than she’d expected, but she had obviously not over stayed her welcome yet, and the mood in the tavern was light and cheery. Even as the door opened and a newcomer walked in, several people raised their flagons in greeting to him. Sphynx broke off from the story she was telling to the table as he walked in, joining in the welcome, before finishing it as the man picked a table near theirs.

    “And then they made me their chief.” The table erupted in the laughter of the elves at what she said, which sounded like the punch line of a joke. She laughed along with the rest of them, but her focus had shifted slightly to the newcomer. She knew, after meeting the entire village the night before, that he wasn’t from the area. So far he had seemed harmless enough, but if that changed he was sure to be sorry. Perhaps she should figure out his intentions sooner rather than later; normal people didn’t wear that much armor just for fun.

    She excused herself from the table of elves, leaving whatever she was drinking behind, and pulled up a chair at the table of the gentleman nearby, her eyes clearly on his armor as she took her seat. “Excuse me, but I just wanted to inform you that if you intend the people of this village any harm, then you better beware its defenses.” She made no mention of exactly what those defenses were as her eyes raised to meet his. The smile on her face was small and deadly serious. Sphynx had no love of people in general, but more death at the moment meant more work for her, and she would proceed as necessary to prevent that.
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    Darrius Flamewing
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    --Sorry about the delay, I've been busy. Getting ready to move soon, started a new job last Sunday, etc.--

    The Hunter looked at the woman sitting before him. Looking into her eyes, he saw intensity, power, and passion. She cared for these people, and her last comment was most definitely not a threat, but a promise. Knowing that he would not be able to dodge this woman, he simply stated:

    I am simply a bounty hunter, madam, he began. I have no intention of harming the people of this town, or any other. The only ones I seek are criminals. Murderers, thieves, rapists - these are my marks.

    The barmaid arrived at the table with Darrius' meal, setting the plate gingerly on the table. Eyeing Darrius up and down, she gave him a surly wink, and swaggered off to help a pair of gentlemen at the bar. The ranger looked back to the woman sitting before him, trying to glean whatever he could by his hunter's senses.

    He knew this woman was powerful, that was a fact. The only thing he did not know was why she had suddenly taken an interest in him. Surely there had been several people in the last few days to pass through wearing armor. Perhaps she knew the nature of the Demon-Skin Coat, or if she didn't know about it, she was most definitely interested. The hunter raised his glass to his lips and took a deep draught of the beverage. Feeling the icy cold ale slide down his throat, he became pleased. It had been weeks since he had downed an ice cold beer.

    Gold fang sat beneath the table, eagerly chewing on the ox bone the barmaid tossed him. The wolf was thoroughly pleased to have something to chew on. Despite appearing to be occupied with the bone, however, he was well aware of the thoughts of his master as they dwelled on the strange woman who had taken a seat next to him.

    Just give me the word, master, the wolf said empathically. I'll rip this woman's legs off.

    That won't be necessary, old friend. Darrius replied in his thoughts. This woman just wants to talk.

    At this moment, the barmaid opened a curtain blocking a far window. The sunlight struck Darrius squarely in the chest. The armor turned a deeper shade of black, and the light in the room seemed to be sucked away as the armor did its ghastly work. Darrius grasped his chest in pain as the light seared his armor. His forehead beaded up with sweat as the pain lanced through his body. Wincing, Darrius tried to remain stalwart despite his pain. He shifted his chair out of the direct path of the sunlight. When he was free of the dreadful beam of light, he heaved a sigh of relief.

    I am sure that you have questions, Darrius finally said. Ask, and you shall receive.
    Edited by Darrius Flamewing, Apr 27 2011, 07:20 AM.
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    Sphynx
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    Oil on Fire

    She rose one eyebrow up at learning what he did, both intrigued and wary. Was he here on business then? Was one of the people of this town his next target? She certainly hoped not, and after spending time with them she couldn’t see how any of them could be the types of criminals that he’d mentioned. If they were though, she wasn’t sure that she would stand between him and his prey. Bounty hunters were a different breed of criminal, one that managed to keep on the right side of the law, but they were necessary in a country that couldn’t afford enough guards to keep its people safe at all times.

    “There is nothing simple about being a bounty hunter, sir. I have to ask, what is someone like you doing in a place like this?” She couldn’t quite believe her ears. This peaceful village wasn’t exactly the type of place for the more notorious criminals to hide; they would likely be too inconspicuous in such a small, close knit community. At least learning about his position explained why he wore what he did in a simple tavern.

    Before she received an answer to her question though, the curtains were withdrawn and the sunlight shone into the bar. It was bright and warm and apparently quite painful to the man she was now sitting across from. Her eyebrow furrowed as the man clutched his chest in pain and it looked as though all the light were taken from the room for a moment. As painful as it seemed for the man, she was very curious as to why the sunlight was causing such a reaction in the man.

    “Perhaps there is something not so simple about you after all.” She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. This meeting had just gotten much more interesting, and she certainly did have questions, one that was an obvious first choice. “What just happened?” There were probably several viable options for what had happened; perhaps he had just choked on a piece of his dinner, or maybe had a mild heart attack. She knew that both of those options were out of the question though. Clearly there was some type of magic going on here, and she couldn’t wait to hear about it.

    She was sure that there couldn’t be a simple answer to that question. She did have one other question that should probably be asked before they went much further. “And would you perhaps have a name?”
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    Darrius Flamewing
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    The pain from the sunlight ebbed away from the Hunter's mind. He let his hand fall from his chest and laid it gently onto the table. As his thoughts cleared, he grasped the situation at hand once again. Looking at the woman before him, Darrius sighed.

    Some things can only be shared by those I can trust. Darrius began. But a name is not one of those things. My name is Darrius. My wolf companion is called Gold-Fang. I am passing through this village, and need a place to stay for the evening. If you must know, no one in this settlement is my mark. Finally, with regards to why I wear so much armor: I cannot remove it. I will divulge no more on this subject right now.

    Darrius resumed his eating, and moved into the next part of his conversation:

    The man I seek, Darrius said. Is not really a man at all. He is a demon, one bound to this world by a cruel and unusual fate.

    The demon hides within the shell of a man long dead, though you can not tell by the looks of him. Darrius continued. He has long black hair, streaked with silver. He is of normal build and average height. His eyes are the most radical feature. They are empty black pits, devoid of spirit, devoid of humanity.

    I am driven by two purposes on this hunt, Darrius said coolly. First, I was paid a large sum in advance to slaughter this creature. The remainder of which I will receive when I return with its head.

    My other purpose, he continued. Is my own. I seek this man for personal reasons, which I care not to divulge with one who I have just met.

    Gold-Fang, having grown weary of chewing on his bone, pricked his ears up, listening intently. He usually dared not delve into the affairs of the humans with whom his master associated, but as of late, his luck around females had been particularly dreadful. Twice in the last months had the Hunter's heart been broken under mysterious circumstances, and Gold-Fang was not going to allow it to happen again.

    The demon I seek, a cruel being named Tathrodin dwells in a mansion to the north, nestled in the Loniar Swamp. He hides behind his bodyguards, abyssal spirits tied to their master.
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    Sphynx
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    Oil on Fire

    “Boy, for not being able to share things with people you don’t trust, you shared an awful lot.” She was a tad bit surprised to hear all about his current mark, after he openly admitted that he didn’t trust her enough to give her much information, including at least one of the reasons that Darrius sought this man…creature…thing. Well, she would get to the in a minute. For now she wanted to say hello to the beautiful creature underneath the table, leaning down a bit to speak to the wolf closer to his level, though not so close that if he decided she was less than friendly she wouldn’t have time to get out of the way.

    “Gold-Fang, is it? Why aren’t you a handsome creature? I have a panther friend of my own who would just hate you. Nothing personal, love. She’s just a mean old thing who doesn’t like anybody.” While Sphynx could understand her own pets just fine, her ability to communicate with animals did not extend beyond the two of them. So she didn’t wait for any response, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway, but instead sat up as soon as she was finished speaking and turned her attention back to Darrius.

    “Now back to the matter at hand. You say that the man you are after now is actually a demon? Well…I happen to have a certain…connection with demons. Not that I am one myself, as I’m sure many have stipulated, but I can look at someone and tell you if they are inhabited by a demon. And I do have a bit of experience working with spirits…” Perhaps the man himself knew how to do this already, but she doubted it. Few people delved into that kind of magic, and fewer still were even good at it. But magic was her trade, and she plied it well.

    “Not that you’ve asked for my help or anything, but your mission sounds intriguing. So, though this is unusual and unprecedented, I would like to offer my assistance in ridding the world of this demon and his spiritual followers.” The pun was completely intended, and she couldn’t help but smile at it as she waited for his response, whether he would take her up on the offer or not. Either way she wouldn’t be out anything; she would merely continue on back home if he said no. The adventure couldn’t hurt either though, and really she couldn’t ask anything more from the job than the experience to deal with new creatures.
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    Darrius Flamewing
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    Darrius listened intently to the woman sitting with him, all the while, a cacophony of thoughts was racing through his mind. He did give out a lot of information, but was that really the problem? The Hunter found that his prey is best when it knows that he is coming. Darrius cared not about sharing information about his quarry, because he knew it would serve only to enhance the thrill of the hunt to come.

    I know I shared quite a bit of information, Darrius started. As a matter of fact, I hope that one of Tathrodin's followers is sitting in this tavern right now. I want him to go back and tell his master that I am coming for him. I hate doing things the easy way, you see. There's no honor in it. I want my mark to be prepared. It makes the hunt all worth while.

    He chuckled a bit and watched to see if anyone in the bar was actually listening to his conversation. Surely if one of Tathrodin's agents had come this far, then he must be truly interested in what Darrius had to say. After thoroughly eying the Common Room, he continued his conversation.

    On the other hand, Darrius remarked, placing a hand upon his breast. There are some things that are best left unshared.

    The Hunter watched this strange woman as she stooped down under the table. She spoke directly to Gold-Fang, but kept enough distance to keep from having her throat ripped out should the wolf find it necessary. A low rumbling sound escaped his throat, but it was not of anger or fear. No, it was respect. The wolf nuzzled into the woman's hand, letting her ruffle his fur. Darrius' respect for the stranger grew knowing that his wolf-kin had taken a liking to her.

    It would be truly interesting to keep a Panther as company. Gold-Fang thought. I would very much like to meet this creature.

    Darrius smiled at hearing Gold-Fang's thoughts. It had been a while since the old wolf had truly trusted anyone. He thought back to the meetings with Accalia and Ayame. The wounds of those chance encounters were healing, but the pain was still something new to him. Spending most of one's life on the run can be detrimental to one's social experience. Such a detriment was plain as day from time to time, when the Hunter would spend his nights curled in a ball wallowing in pain over things both loved and lost.

    But this encounter was different. There was no emotional connection with this stranger, yet Gold-Fang trusted her. Darrius knew that this woman must be here for some predestined purpose, but he was not quite sure what. He listened to her proposition, and the wheels began to turn. Fate had put all of this in motion, and Darrius knew that this woman would be a part of it in some way now. He could feel it in the depths of his soul.

    When I entered this tavern, Darrius smiled as he said. I had no intention of seeking assistance with my hunt. I know full well the dangers of what lie ahead. A demon lord with a host of minions at his beckon call is quite dangerous to face off with on my own. Up until now, I had accepted this as task as mine and mine alone. If I died in this hunt, I knew that either way, I would be better off. Now you come seeking to assist me, and I feel as if the divines - if any still yet exist - have placed you here so that we may meet, and undertake this hunt together.

    Calling out to the barmaid, Darrius ordered the stranger a glass of wine, and a fresh mug of ale for himself. When she brought the drinks to the table, he proffered the wine glass in a graceful, noble manner likened to the ancient royalty of some nation long forgotten.

    I usually follow Fate's workings as they guide me, Darrius concluded. But in this case I am still a bit wary. For one, I do not know your name. Tell me a bit about yourself while we enjoy a drink, you and I.
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    Sphynx
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    Oil on Fire

    Sphynx let her eyes quickly roam around the room, taking in all the occupants at Darrius’ words. She highly doubted that any minions of a demon were sitting in that bar; in fact she could literally see that there were not an unnatural beings near her right now. Still, even without risking being overheard by the enemy, she was surprised that he was giving away that much information to a total stranger. She was used to people that kept their plans close to their chests.

    “When I entered this tavern, I had no intention of assisting anyone on a hunt. But your task sounds interesting, right up my alley even. I don’t normally offer help of strangers, but you were lucky enough to pique my interest, so thank you for the opportunity.” She hoped it would be an opportunity at least. It did sound rather intriguing; cursed armor, demons, spiritual minions. It wasn’t every day that one was encountered with such things, so when the chance comes along to learn about different types of magic or creatures, and she wasn’t about to let that pass her up.

    She let the glass of wine get placed in front of her without complaint and even picked it up gingerly when it came. Normally she wasn’t much of a drinker of alcohol, but when she did drink, wine tended to be what she chose. She took a sip of the drink, knowing it would be very rude not to drink it, and nodded her thanks to Darrius for buying her a drink.

    “Of course; how still of me to have forgotten my manners. My name is Sphynx, and I’m on the Council in Soto. I’m here on official business offering some assistance to the people of this town after the destruction caused by the Eye of Zanna. But I have finished up my business here; I was planning on leaving in the morning anyway, so why not change my plans and travel with you instead? I am in no hurry to return to a life of offices, paperwork, and dull meetings. I can’t be gone for months on end, obviously, but how long can it take to destroy a demon and remove your accursed armor?” She knew that such a task wouldn’t be a walk in the park, but it wasn’t likely to take them years either.

    She took another drink of her wine, setting the glass gently on the table. A partnership had been formed, however unlikely she would have guessed it to be.

    “So, when and where do we start?”
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    Darrius Flamewing
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    Darrius smiled wryly as Sphynx introduced herself. He was amused at the strange name she had been given. He knew that there was much more to this woman than met the eye, and it thrilled him even more.

    I must know more about this woman than she lets on.. Darrius thought. Underneath the charming smiles and the ravishing good looks is something dark, something fell waiting to be unleashed.

    The Hunter pondered on this a while, watching as she sipped down the rest of her wine. Did she notice the eloquent gesture that escaped his hands as he offered her the wine glass? If she did, she paid no mention to it. Perhaps it was better that way. The less people that knew of Darrius' lineage, the better. It was bad enough to be chased by mercenaries hired by lowly courtiers in their vain attempts at seizing power.

    When Sphynx stopped talking, Darrius nodded. He could see that his hostess would want to see this job done, and done swiftly. He himself had grown weary of wearing the infernal black armor. He wondered dreamily at the thought of being able to feel the cool breeze on his flesh, to be encompassed in the icy coldness of a swift running stream. These simple pleasures had eluded Darrius in these recent years, and now they seemed closer than they ever had.

    Underneath the eagerness, there was exhaustion. Pure and simple, the Hunter was tired. Resisting Asmophet's luring voice had taken its toll on him. The lines on his face grew deeper at the thought of sleep, as its haunting lullaby drifted softly through his mind. The song was pleasing, but riddled with the undertones of the Demon's raspy voice. Sleep now would only let Asmophet win, allowing him to rise to the surface of the Hunter's already weakened mind.

    We will travel tomorrow,. Darrius said. At sun's rise, we will leave this settlement. We travel North, to the swamps that separate Morrim from the lands beyond. Sitting on a patch of dry land, there stands a palatial estate, belonging to Tathrodin. There, we will get the answers I seek.
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    Sphynx
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    Oil on Fire

    She placed her now empty wine glass back on the table as he gave additional details about their departure and destination. Though her head was slightly bowed towards the table, her eyes were watched the hunter across from her. Much as he thought about her, she was starting to wonder what other secrets this man held. He certainly wasn’t a simple bounty hunter, at least not just that. Something had led him to the current life that he led, and while she wasn’t even going to begin to guess what that could have been, she had a feeling that before he had chosen this path, or perhaps before it chose him, he was a very different person.

    “I’m staying here at the inn tonight. I assume that you will be doing the same? I can speak with the owner tonight about fixing up a breakfast that we both can take with us, and I shall be saddled and ready at dawn.” She had no other obligations in this city, and while the people were kind and hospitable, she had no desire to overstay her welcome either. Leaving in the morning had been her plan anyway, so why not just take the long way home? She typically preferred travelling at night, but such things as long journeys like this were best taken in the morning, before other creatures who also prefer the night awoke. And where they were going, the type of journey they were taking, there were bound to be plenty of other creatures who preferred the night.

    As they had talked, time had begun to pass them by. She could see by looking in his eyes that he was tired, exhausted even, and it appeared to come on so suddenly. Again she wondered what other secrets he held, but now did not seem like the time to discuss them. They would have plenty of time to talk on the road. “For now, I am going to get some sleep, and I suggest you do the same. It looks like you could use it.” She stood then, stretching out her limbs. Though she had nothing more to add to their current conversation, she waited a moment for any response he may have before taking her leave of the tavern.
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    Darrius Flamewing
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    --Sphynx, if you wish, you can have your character dream up the large bit in italics. Darrius is having a flashback, and given the strange fate that seems to surround our characters, it is not unlikely that something like that could happen. It's up to you really, I figured it might give you some good stuff with which you could work.--

    Darrius nodded at Sphynx's prospect, and bid her good evening. Feeling stiffness in his legs beginning to crawl up his back, the Hunter stood up and trod across the Common Room and toward the stairs. By this time, fatigue must have set in, because he could have sworn that he saw a flash of silver reflect the firelight. Gold Fang did not seem to notice it, because he made no mental note of it.

    Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he dragged his feet to the door of his room. He slid the key into the lock and turned it, unbolting the bar from the door, Darrius threw it open and slumped inside. This was where Darrius wanted to be now. Sitting in the sun for that brief moment caused harm to his body in a way no normal human could imagine. Drawing a dagger from his boot, the Hunter cut a long slit across the chest-portion of the armor. A gout of black liquid spurted forth from the opening, filling the slop bucket with the viscous stuff.

    By this point in the evening, the blood that had been settled down under Darrius' armor had already coagulated, and was well into the process of decay, much as any substance bound within the Demonskin Coat. Asmophet's laughter could be heard from deep within the dark corners of Darrius' mind. With a violent shudder, the Hunter banished the thoughts of the demon from his head. His last slip-up with the demon had been terribly destructive, though quite satisfying. In fact, the memory of this last encounter was still quite fresh on his mind.

    There was blood. Lots of blood. The cold stone floor of the Wine Cellar was bathed in a swath of crimson color. The smell of death filled the Hunter's nostrils as he breathed deep the results of his work. There were other smells as well, grapes and musty barrels. A small torch hanging in a wall sconce was the only light in this dank place. The torch glinted off of steel, stone, and the fresh red of spilled blood.

    Darrius' mind cleared then, and he saw the results of his work. A man was hanging before him from the ceiling, his body slashed open. The man's entrails had spilled out of his belly, almost touching the floor. A bright red tunic had been sliced to ribbons, the gold lion rampant emblazoned on its front utterly destroyed. Upon seeing the emblem, the Hunter had suddenly remembered, in vivid detail what happened to bring him to this place.

    Earlier that day, Darrius was speaking with a client. This lord had put out a bounty on a vicious bandit who had been terrorizing traders along the major roads leading into his town. Darrius eagerly accepted the job, and was given a down-payment for the job at hand. When the Hunter began counting the coins, he noticed a familiar marking. A lion Rampant with the name "Farlan" adorned one side of the coin. Darrius recognized this heraldry, having seen it only once before. It was many years ago, on the fields of his homeland. The knights under lord Argus Farlan attacked and slaughtered Darrius' parents. They would have slain him as well, if it had not been for his parent's righteous sacrifice. Seeing the emblem caused insurmountable rage to boil over in Darrius' mind.

    Asmophet would have been stupid not to have jumped at this opportunity. He flew forth from the armor and into Darrius' mind, taking absolute control over the hunter's body. With a sardonic smile, he eagerly accepted the job. After completing the filthy work of slaying the bandit, Darrius returned to Lord Farlan's estate. It was dark, then. Too dark. To those who looked upon the hunter, they later claimed that the very light of the Halls was being sucked away.

    Darrius cornered the Argus in his parlor, leading him at knife point into the wine cellar. There, he tied the hapless noble to the rafters, and proceeded to use cruel abyssal torture techniques on him. He mutilated the man's features with his knife, cut open his belly, and began tugging cruelly at his bowels. The walls of the stone cellar were thick, and the floor above was separated by a layer of stone. No one in the estate would have heard Argus Farlan's screams on that terrible night, but they would all remember the brutal nightmare that awaited them when they found him.

    Satisfied with his handiwork, he allowed Darrius to regain control. Darrius saw what Asmophet had done, and knew that staying here was not conducive to his well being. He gathered his weapons, wiped them on Argus' clothes, and flew up the stairs and out of the mansion. He ran for hours, not caring to look behind him to see if he had been followed. All that mattered was getting away from that place. Not so much for getting away from trouble, but for fleeing from himself, from the monster that he had become.


    Darrius awoke from the dream soaked in cold sweat. His whole body trembled violently with fear. Reaching his hand up, the hunter tried to wipe the sweat from his face. When he did, he saw in the moonlight that his hands were covered in blood. Feeling his stomach flipping inside of him, he leaned over the slop bucket and wretched. After emptying his belly, he wept silently, hoping that no one would see him in this state.

    All the while, Asmophet laughed as he tugged his strings a little bit tighter...
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    Sphynx
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    ((I didn’t know if you wanted to start a new thread for the actual journey/fight thing part, so I tried to leave it open to continue here or start a new thread.))

    After Sphynx left the tavern part of the building, she went upstairs to the room she’d reserved earlier in the day. All of her bags were already in the room, and before she had sat down at the table with the locals earlier, she’d asked the maid to have a bath drawn in her room. When she entered, throwing the door wide and sweeping into the room before it clicked back shut again, the bath was piping hot and ready. It wasn’t for her; she disliked water and often used her own magical fire on her skin to keep it clean, but she liked the steam and and heat it added to the room, and it was still the best way to clean out her clothing.

    Opening up her bags, she pulled out all of the filthy clothing from the days that she’d spent on the road and dropped them into the bath tub. She pulled a knife from its sheath at the small of her back and used the tip of it to stir things up a bit, soak for a while, and finally pulled them all out to hang over the fireplace. She flicked her fingers at the fire that was already started within the hearth, and it jumped several inches higher. She turned out the candles in the room then, leaving the only light remaining the fireplace, and settled into bed. After a day of work helping out the local villagers, she was completely worn out, and it did not take long for her to drift off to sleep.


    It was still dark when she woke with a start, though the lighter shade of blackness that usually follows the sky before dawn filled the room. She couldn’t even remember all of her dreams, just bits and pieces of them; faces, bodies, blood, and darkness. She remembered seeing flashes of Darrius’ face, both as she remembered him today, and in scenes with much darker shadows across his face. She recalled echoes of laughter coming from the dark corners of her dreams; laughter that could not be merely human. It definitely made her more curious about her travel companion, and she found she had many more questions about him than she had the night before. She was sure that they would get to all of that eventually; the best way to find answers would be to do what she was planning on all along and travel with Darrius’ in his demon hunt.

    Stepping out of bed, she quickly changed into a clean set of travelling clothes and repacked her bags. The faintest tinge of pink was just beginning to touch the sky when she donned her long, black leather travelling cloak and left the room. Downstairs she searched for, and found, the breakfast that one of the maids had laid out that morning. The maid herself was behind the counter kneading dough for bread, and she gave Sphynx a tetchy look that told she hated having to get up even earlier than usual to prepare their food. Sphynx said nothing to the woman, but left an extra coin for the trouble, and because it would make her seem like a more caring individual than she really was. The opinion of the people mattered more than she wanted it to, and besides, it wasn’t her money away.

    She made her way out into the stables, dropping her bags by the door and taking down her black leather saddle from the hook it hung on near the entrance. Walking up to her horse, DarkFlame, her eyes softened and she called to him sweetly. Her pets were some of the few creatures that she treated with any sort of affection. Her voice stayed soft and kind and she brushed him swiftly before clasping the saddle around his back. The bridle came last, though she never used any sort of bit with him. The sun was just cresting the far horizon, signaling that dawn had come, when Sphynx led DarkFlame out of the stables, both of them in their travel wear and her saddle bags now hanging on the stallion’s sides. He snorted a small jet of fire as they reached the front of the inn, waiting now for Darrius, who would lead them on their journey.
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    Darrius Flamewing
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    After the terrible Dream, Darrius was unable to return to the sweet solace of slumber. Not that it was very sweet for him to begin with. Since donning the Demonskin Coat, the Hunter had been forced to face dreams like this one and far worse. One nightmare in particular still rings fresh in his mind, involving the vixen Ayame, and her clan of kitsune fox-people. There was blood, a god's blood staining the Hunter's hands, and it haunted him. Knowing the love that he had once shared for this woman, Asmophet spent over a fortnight relaying this terrifying image through Darrius' mind. All the while, the demon knew that it would eventually consume the Hunter.

    Grabbing his green woolen cloak, Darrius picked up his bag and made for the doorway. The sun was just starting to tinge the sky a shade of pink, like that of a bonny lass' blush. Knowing the damage that the sun would inevitably do to him, Darrius slid a tunic over the armor to cover it as best as possible. At this time of year, this was a much harder feat to accomplish. Wearing the black leather, clothes, and a heavy cloak was not conducive to warm weather comfort. By now, the sun was beginning its annual baking of the earth with golden rays of pure heat.

    All the more reason to get this armor off Darrius thought. Again he relished the thoughts of feeling a cool spring breeze on his flesh, but it was for naught, as the armor was stuck fast, and there would be no removing it. Not now, at least. Darrius packed what dry goods he could and left a few coins on the counter as compensation.

    Gold Fang trotted out from the stables to greet his master as he came out from the inn. The Hunter ruffled the wolf's fur with his rough hands, and the wolf almost grinned with pleasure. Golf-Fang was still quite thoroughly wild, at least enough to be a danger to one who does not know him. Very few people have ever touched the wolf and walked away with both hands intact. The bond he shared with Darrius was not one so much forged from love, but forged from mutual respect between two great warriors who spend their days sparring with one another.

    After he finished petting the Wolf, Darrius looked up to see Sphynx leaning against the massive bulk of a black horse. The great beast was wreathed from mane to tail in searing flames, and the ranger thought for a moment that he was hallucinating. After blinking a few times, he looked again to verify that what he saw was real, and by the gods, it was. The steed's nose belched out a jet of flame and smoke. Despite the flames, Sphynx seemed apparently comfortable to be so close to a walking conflagration.

    A stable boy brought around a second horse for Darrius, one rented and not owned. The Hunter had no general need for a mount of any kind. Most horses crashed through the underbrush with more than enough noise for a troop of soldiers. Of course there were other, more exotic mounts, but there were none that Darrius found useful in his profession. Therefore, much of Darrius' travels in Morrim were done by foot, taking much longer to complete. It was much cheaper in the end, though, as horse feed costs money, money the hunter usually does not have.

    With a nod and a grin, Darrius awkwardly mounted the horse. During his younger years, Darrius had vague teachings of riding horseback, but he only knew the basics. Running at full sprint was something dangerous and new to him, and he knew that it would most likely prove his undoing to try anything above basics. Once he was settled in the saddle, he gave the horse a light tap with his heels, coaxing the beast forward. Gold-Fang laughed inwardly at this, only to receive a mental reproach from Darrius. The Wolf tried to banish his laughter from his mind, but it was too hard. Watching his friend ride this large, unwieldy beast was the most amusing thing he had seen in several months.

    The Hunter felt uncomfortable, and the wolf's thoughts weren't helping. He could only imagine what Sphynx was thinking at this point. He envisioned her laughing at the prospect of a Demon-Hunter who knew nothing of riding horses. Darrius pulled the hood of the cloak over his head to cover his crimson cheeks.

    As the pair rode on, Darrius felt more comfortable in the saddle. He urged the horse to a slow gallop. By now, the wolf was enjoying himself. He had not had a good run in a long while now, and getting the chance to feel the wind in his fur was exhilarating. With every hour, Darrius grew accustomed to the motions of the horse, and he would urge the beast on faster. By mid-day, Darrius was comfortable with riding the horse to the point that it was almost second nature to him. That was something that Darrius found interesting about his Half-Elven heritage, it was so much easier for him to learn new things compared to the capabilities of both his human and elven brethren. The wind currents caused by the horse's speed blew the hood off of his head, and Darrius let the air blow through his dark hair. He grinned with pleasure at the chance to feel the wind on his face - the chance to once again know freedom.

    All the while, the sun beat down on him. Though there was clothing covering the armor, it was not enough to prevent it from its harsh reaction to the light. As time wore on, his armor grew heavy, weighing down like a suit of plate mail as opposed to the light leather he was accustomed to wearing.

    By sunset, Darrius and Sphynx had reached the outer-most borders of the Loniar Swamp. The westering sun tainted the sky with a sickly green color as it illuminated foul swamp gasses. The hunter tried to coax the horse to enter the swamp, but its footing was not sure enough, and it swiftly began to sink. Unable to properly move, the beast rolled its eyes and panicked, bucking its hind legs and sending Darrius toppling head over heels into the thick green muck. Spluttering and choking on swamp water, Darrius rose from beneath the surface to see the horse sprinting madly in the direction from whence they came.

    "There goes my horse," Darrius uttered. "As well as all the food I stowed in the saddlebags." Muttering a string of curses under his breath, the Hunter dragged his wet body from the depths of the swamp and sat back down on dry land. He set to the task of removing his boots and draining the water. As he did so, a smile curled his lips. Within seconds, Darrius was laughing out loud to the point where he was doubled over. The half-elf laughed until his ribs hurt, and laughed some more. When it was all over, he was thoroughly tired.

    "We have made much progress this day," Darrius concluded. "Tonight, we will make camp. Bear with me for one moment, as there is something I have to do."

    Drawing a knife from his boot, the Hunter drew the blade across the armor. Pain like white-hot fire seared through his body. As the leather split open, a gout of thick dark blood spurted forth. As the gruesome liquid spewed forth, Darrius felt the armor lightening, reveled in the respite. As he continued to empty the brackish liquid from within the coat, the Hunter's vision faltered and grew hazy. Nausea settled on him, and he knew what was to come next. Sure enough, as the last of the blood poured forth from the opening, Darrius dropped to the ground unconscious.

    In his day, the hunter had taken many a grievous wound, but none of them compared to this. The blood loss was too much, and Darrius could feel it. As the blackness swept over him, he thought of the last thing he saw, the image of a great gold dragon rearing back and unleashing a bereaved, howling roar.
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    Sphynx
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    The woman nodded to Darrius as he arrived, stifling a yawn. She gave no other greeting to him or the wolf at his side, not being much of a morning person herself. He seemed as ready as she was to set off, so she finally finished tying on her saddlebags and mounted her steed, awaiting him to follow suit and lead on.

    Sphynx made no comment on the obvious fact that her travel companion obviously preferred another form of movement across the land. Her own horse was one of her closest companions, but she was never surprised to see others who did not ride well; it was only in the more recent decade of her life that she had learned, and as a child she rarely even saw horses as few people where she grew up had the money to afford them. Everyone had their weaknesses (she hated dealing with ignorant people and had little patience), and at least the one he was showing was understandable. Besides, she still wasn’t fully awake to give anything more than a passing thought to his riding skill; if she had thought about it right then, she probably wouldn’t have had anything good to say to him, but then she never had been a pleasant morning person, or pleasant in general.

    Not knowing where they were going, being the more experienced rider, and not being awake enough to have any kind words to share, Sphynx had no issue with Darrius setting the pace and her being the follower. She kept her own horse several paces behind his, knowing that horses didn’t tend to like being crowded, and hers had the tendency to bite. It also set enough distance between them that idle chatter would, she hoped, be kept to the bare minimum. Not only would this prevent her from saying something entirely rude before she woke up enough that her diplomatic side would hold her back, but it would also allow the both of them to focus on the journey at hand.

    The day passed by overhead as they rode, though neither Sphynx nor DarkFlame seemed much bothered by that. They both knew that their journey with Darrius would take time, and they had made numerous long treks before. The lands passed by them as they made their way across the land, though neither gave it more than a passing glance each time the view changed. It was as though the key to making a day long journey, and then some, was to ignore that minor detail. If one didn’t begin to think about the journey, how long it was taking, how much ground was covered and how much was yet to be covered, then time seemed to pass right on by. It wasn’t until they would stop for the night, Sphynx knew, that both she and her stallion would feel tired from the day long trek.

    Eventually, as the sun was beginning to finally set and take with it the heat of the day, they reached the edges of the swamp. Her horse disliked water in all of its forms just as much, if not more, than she did, and she had no intention of attempting to enter any unknown section of the swampland on his back. Darrius had other ideas, and a horse that didn’t have flames for a mane, and yet the horse also seemed to have ideas of its own; entering the swamp did not appear to be one of them. She only just managed to jump out of the way, nearly falling into the water herself, as the horse charged right though the spot she’d be standing a moment before. Though perhaps she should have tried to stop the creature, she rather liked her body intact and had no desire to be kicked or bitten.

    “Depending on how long the journey actually is, I may have enough food for the both of us, or we can hunt here. A swamp means water, and water means animals will come.” It was a simple fact that anyone who had ever learned to hunt for a meal knew; find the water, and prey would arrive sooner or later. She was considering what type of animals would actually use this type of algae ridden water for sustenance when she heard sudden laughter from down and to her right. Her brow furrowed as she looked down at the bounty hunter, who appeared to be doubled over with laughter for several long seconds before he was able to compose himself. She was thoroughly confused at the display and merely stood there in some state of shock and annoyance until he managed to compose himself.

    Still on guard after his outburst of laughter, she merely nodded at his suggestion to make camp there, as she had no desire to be forced to camp in the middle of the swamp, and she waved a hand at whatever task he had to perform, not really interested in whatever he felt he had to do as long as he did his share in setting up a decent campsite for the both of them. She began to remove her saddle bags, more than ready to settle down for the evening. Her back was to him as she focused on removing her stallion’s saddle as well, and it wasn’t until she heard the sound of a body falling to the ground.

    What the hell was wrong with this man, and why did she ever to agree to this task? She had turned in an instant, a dagger in her hand as if she had expected sudden trouble had come upon them, but all she saw at first was the unconscious form of Darrius. There was blood everywhere, and yet its origin was a complete mystery to her; he had seemed perfectly healthy all day so when did he incur an injury to such an extreme degree? And not only had he been rendered unconscious with no explanation, but he had also left her alone to deal with both his blood loss and, apparently from the sound that next reached her ears and drew her eyes skyward, a dragon that had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a completely flat swampland. She should have said ‘no’ the night before when he offered this task to her.

    With a sigh that would seem more akin to one who had to wash a large amount of dishes or dig a ditch for a fencepost, Sphynx decided to start by killing two birds with one stone. She raised one hand to the dragon and placed her other over the form of Darrius, and she began to pull the life right out of the dragon, who nearly halted in midair and roared in pain as its very bones began to feel the fire of having its life ripped from its body. The spell took a great deal of concentration, as dragons themselves often were resistant to magic, but she could feel the energy flow through her body as she poured the healing spell into Darrius. The dragon continued its screeching as it came closer, much more slowly and guarded now that it knew it was dealing with a powerful mage.

    Sphynx broke the healing spell after only a few seconds, knowing that the life that a dragon had to give was much more powerful than anything else she could have found in the area to heal Darrius; he wouldn’t need much of it, and she was satisfied that he would at least wake up again. She then called up both her physical and magical shields as she stared the dragon down. Dragons were noble creatures of fire and magic to one such as herself. They shared a common bond that would not allow her to destroy the creature, though she had no intention of allowing it to destroy her or any of their party this evening. It came closer still, and she shot off a few arrows of sheer magical darkness towards the creature, mainly keeping on the defensive as she magically shooed the large beast away. It had been expecting an easy meal of humans and horseflesh, but it was not used to having to work so hard for its dinner. With a final, mighty and obviously frustrated cry that she could feel down to her bones, the beast turned and went back to wherever it came from.

    Keeping her shields up, just in case, Sphynx made quick work of setting up a small fire pit and getting a fire going, unpacking her bedroll so that she had a place to sit as she then pulled out food to make dinner with. As she busied herself with cooking, her eyes found Gold Fang over the firelight and she gave him a slight glare, not caring an ounce if it angered the wolf. “And where were you when your master collapsed?” She knew that her tone was snarky, but the wolf had seemed to have done nothing to prevent his master’s injury or even alert her to the fact that he was being injured. As soon as he woke up, and he had better wake the hell up, she would demand an explanation.
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    Darrius Flamewing
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    While in the stirring nightmare of his unconsciousness, Darrius struggled with images that were real and not real. He battled with Asmophet, who raked his flesh with searing claws of pain. The demon eventually grew bored - knowing that killing Darrius will not get him anywhere - and he left the Hunter alone.

    There were two others. Women, to be precise. One was a raven-haired vixen. Darrius recognized the woman with a pang of heartache. He smiled fondly at her as she scampered off as quickly as she came. The other was a three-legged she-wolf. The Hunter smiled at the brief moments of happiness they had shared before turning his thoughts elsewhere.

    Darrius focused now on the dragon - The Dragon! Where had it come from? His muddled mind struggled in vain to find the explanation for it all. As his lifeblood poured from his body, he felt darkness coming over him. He was ready to give in to it, let the shadow envelop him and then it would all be over.

    But this darkness was different. It was great and terrible. Some fell presence was standing over him, not maliciously, but almost protectively. The golden wyrm roared in primal fury as if it were in pain. From his phantasmal position, Darrius could see small strings of glowing golden light stream from the massive beast, into the shadow's hand, and down into his own body. He squinted through the wavering dark to recognize the shadow, and when he did, he was shocked. The shadow was Sphynx, her hands pulling energies from the dragon and supplementing his life force.

    The power coming from this woman was terrifying, it made shivers run through his spine. The Hunter knew full well that this woman was not one with which to be trifled. When she removed her hands, she uttered a few words in the language of magic. Darrius had heard them before, used to raise spells of protection.

    The dragon, having a portion of its life pulled from him, looked at Darrius' phantasmal form. Without its lips moving, the great beast seemed to speak.

    I come at the bidding of your father, the dragon said. He requested that I bring you what aid I can to prevent your death.

    But why? Darrius asked. Why would my father consort with ancient dragons?

    Let us just say that I owed him a great debt, the beast answered. A debt that is now repaid. The gift of my life force ensures your survival, fulfilling my end of Aric's bargain. I bid you farewell, young one. Walk in the light, and tread not on the paths of darkness.

    Letting out a great roar, the old dragon leaped into the darkening sky. His billowy golden wings twinkling in the dying rays of the sun.

    Darrius' eyelids fluttered open, and he saw himself lying on the cold earth. His hands and feet were stiff from lying still for so long. Doing his best to raise himself carefully from the ground, he saw the carnage that had been left in the wake of his "maintenance". He turned toward the smell of a cooking fire to see Sphynx knelt over it, her eyes looking scornfully at Gold-Fang. The poor beast was splayed out on his belly, drained from the curse of sharing his master's struggles.

    "He most likely cannot here you," Darrius said. "He shares my life-blood. When I hurt, he hurts, and I return the favor for him. It is a strange bond we share, but one that neither of us are willing to break."

    After easing himself to a standing position, he awkwardly hobbled over to sit by the fire, letting its warmth bring life back to his aching body. By the fierce look in Sphynx's eyes, he could tell that there was need for explanation. The Hunter longed to give one, but he knew not where to begin. His thoughts raced for a moment, then it all just clicked. He looked back at her and began to regale his story:

    "A few years back, in Kinaldi," the half-elf began. "I had just returned to collect a bounty. The man who provided me with in formation on bounties that would suit my expertise. While meeting with his man, I was introduced to a rather odd looking merchant. The stranger offered me a coat of armor that would protect me, make me stronger."

    "Being the ambitious fool that I was," Darrius continued. "I accepted the suit of armor in exchange for half of the bounty I was turning in. When I donned the armor, it bound itself to my flesh, making it impossible to remove. Before I could retaliate for the merchant's treachery, he vanished. My employer then took it upon himself to look after my well-being by looking for a way to remove the accursed thing."

    "Three years," He said again. "Three years, I've spent hunting down vicious murderers, vile monsters of humanity. All of this, and only recently did I get what I've wanted for so long. Freedom. Which is why I seek my current mark. My employer informed me that this creature knows the secret of removing my armor. That is why I must find him, and break this curse. Afterward, I will mete out whatever justice the gods see fit."

    "The armor," Darrius stated. "Is apparently crafted from the spirit of a demon that is millennia old. The fell beast's name is Asmophet, and he wages a constant struggle for power over my soul. Day and night the beast tries to break my will, but as of yet he has not been completely successful."

    "There are some other drawbacks," He continued again. "While the armor can almost magically repair itself, it does so by draining the wearer's life force. When the hide of the armor is exposed to the light of the sun, it becomes viciously hot, searing my flesh like daggers racing over my body."

    "What you see there," he said, pointing at the large pool of blood. "Is a direct result of my exposure to sunlight. If I let it go too long, the armor becomes terribly heavy, and I grow extremely ill. The last time I lost that much blood was not too long ago. It involved being impaled on a soldier's sword. But this time, it was different. I have never fainted from the loss of blood. I am sure if it were not for your quick decisive action, I would not be here now."

    Darrius concluded, wondering if he should tell Sphynx of his words with the mystical beast they had recently encountered.
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    Sphynx
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    Her eyes were pulled to Darrius as he finally seemed to stir and awake from whatever it was that had taken him to the depths of unconsciousness. He spoke of a bond between himself and Gold Fang, and while it sounded a bit unusual, she wasn’t surprised to hear of such a close bond between a human and his animal companion. She had always gotten on much better with animals than with other humans, so it was perfectly plausible that a human/animal connection had escalated beyond mere friendship. Still, that wasn’t exactly what she wanted to talk about, so she remained silent, her gaze remained fixed on Darrius as he joined her by the fireside.

    She gave him all the time that he needed, knowing that eventually the story would come. And when it began, her eyes returned to the fire as she listened, letting the words wash over her as the story began. At first she was a bit skeptical of the tale; armor bound to flesh? Some type of magic had to be involved in that, but there were several types that could be involved. She wasn’t even going to begin to guess what it was without learning more about it, and she supposed that she would learn more if she simply continued to pay attention.

    He talked about the armor being bound to his flesh, the time he’s spent wearing it, and finally they reached the heart of the matter; the soul of the beast so to speak. Such dark magic was not the only way to add magic to armor, but luckily for him it was the type of magic that she excelled in. Spirit magic, black magic, necromancy; call it what you will. Sphynx had devoted a large part of her life, especially since stepping down as goddess all those years ago, to that very thing. If it really were so simple as being the spirit of a demon trapped within the armor, well she knew spells to dispel souls of beings that have abandoned their original form, even an old one such as this Asmophet appeared to be. She had never heard of this particular demon, but if it has been spending time with its soul trapped within armor then that isn’t exactly surprising.

    When his tale was finally concluded, she found her own eyes drawing to the pool of blood, finally understanding, sort of, what it was. She sat a brief moment more in silence, digesting the information and deciding on what her response should be. Darrius seemed set on going on this journey and removing his armor in his own way, so should she even offer to attempt to remove the soul from the armor herself? Maybe he felt the need to take this journey, to learn more about the creature and the secret behind the armor that he’d worn for the past three years. Humans were silly like that.

    Still if she was able to help no before any additional harm came to him, especially if there were other dragons present that she had to deal with on her own, then she supposed she should at least offer to try her magic. “Darrius, I told you before that I know how to deal with the spiritual. I agreed to come on this little expedition of yours because you spoke at the tavern about a spirit, and that is my specialty. However, if it is the armor that is an issue, and if the armor is bound by a spirit, then I am more than willing to attempt to use my knowledge of the spiritual to dispel the being from it. Even at a millennium old, I should be able to send it back to where it came from, where it belongs.”

    Sphynx’s eyes remained focused and calm as she gazed at him, trying to gauge his reaction to her offer. If he didn’t like that idea though, she was more than willing to continue on with their original plan, and she made sure to tell him so. “If that isn’t the path that you wish to venture on, then I suppose you’d best tell me about this creature that we’re searching for…what do you know of it? What dangers are we walking into?” The choice was his, and she would keep it that way. He had lived with this burden for three long years, and while the simple answer might seem like a quick release, the longer path may provide the answers that he needed.

    She made no other mention of the dragon or what had transpired while Darrius had succumbed to the armor’s hold. She hadn’t been able to hear or even recognize that the noises the dragon made were speech. Even if she had been able to, the dragon’s words weren’t meant for her.
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    Darrius Flamewing
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    The hunter considered Sphynx's offer, and nodded. If her magic was specialized in working with spirits, then she would be someone who is willing to assist. He thought about it, and her mention of the dragon.

    "I can assure you that we are not going to have to deal with any other dragons," Darrius began. "I was visited by the dragon while I was on the threshold of death's door. The dragon came to help me, of that much I am sure. How the dragon was meant to help is beyond me. It looks like you are the one who was the catalyst of this aid."

    The hunter smiled inwardly, thinking of the beautiful, majestic beast as it soared off toward the horizon. Darrius called Gold-Fang over and ruffled the wolf's fur. The animal nuzzled him gently, happy to see that his master was safe.

    Removing the cloak from his neck, Darrius cast it to the ground. Standing and spreading his arms, he offered himself over to Sphynx's examination.

    "Take a look," he said. "The illustrious Demonskin Coat."
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    Sphynx
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    Oil on Fire

    If he said that the dragon who had come had been there to help, then she’d just have to accept that, though she didn’t truly believe it. She had known dragons in her lifetime; some were willing to offer help to humans and many were not, though overall she had noticed that if the human deserved it, at least in the dragon’s eyes, then they would at least be respected by the great winged creatures. Perhaps this man had assisted a dragon in his past.

    All thoughts of the dragon left her mind as Darrius stood with his arms open, inviting her to examine the tainted armor for herself. She had to admit that she was quite curious about it, and she wasn’t about to turn the opportunity down. Moving closer, her eyes roved over the armor first, seeking out its physical structure before delving into the magical and spiritual. Without moving closer or waving her arms crazily like some mages did, she hated those that showed off like that when it was completely unnecessary most of the time, she sent her magic out towards the coat, probing and prodding it. She could feel the soul of the creature that inhabited the armor, and it seemed to want to lash out at her in exchange for her poking at it, but there was little that it could do to her. She only hoped that it didn’t take out its anger at being examined on Darrius, for that appeared to be its only outlet, though perhaps the demon wanted to be freed from the armor just as badly as Darrius wanted to be free of it. From what she knew of demons, they rather enjoyed torturing on person, but it compared not a bit to the possibility of torturing several; for them it seemed to be more quantity over quality, and she did what she could to mentally convey that message to the beast.

    She was confident that she could extract the soul from it, even though that soul belonged to a fairly old and strong demon. There was always the chance that the demon’s soul would take Darrius’ with it, but that was usually more of an empty threat than anything else, and she could take certain precautions against it anyway. But should she? It sounded to her, at least in this case, that the journey itself would be just as important for Darrius as would be the actual armor’s removal. If they did go through with their task and meet up with this Tathrodin that Darrius had mentioned, then perhaps the victory of removing the armor would taste all the sweeter to him. Or it could get the man killed, but that seemed to be a risk he was willing to take, given that only a couple of days ago he was bent on finding the answer all by himself.

    She could lie and say that it was beyond her abilities, but she certainly didn’t like the idea of that rumor spreading further than it needed to. So perhaps a half-truth would be the best route. “I could remove the soul of this demon from the armor, rendering it a simple object once more. However, in order to do so, I would need to be in the presence of the creature; a place or an object that may still carry its imprint. In that way, I would have a physical object to use to guide the demon out from this armor, a path to follow so to speak. And I would run the risk of allowing the creature to take your soul with it; in that it may just be a matter of which of us is stronger, me or it.” She spoke rather matter of flatly, particularly because the last part of her words was completely true. Magic was always risky, and she would be the first to tell anyone that. Necromancy in particular tended to work on a principle of equality; to take a life back from death, one usually had to give death something in exchange.

    “I am willing to try, but in my professional opinion, it may be best if we find this other man you spoke of, the one who has the secret of the armor’s removal, and see what he has to say about it.” She had already come this far with Darrius, and had agreed to accompany and help him on his journey. So why stop now?
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