The current IC time is: Early Night on May 01, 2412.

Market Place: Center Behorde

This is a bustling marketplace, filled with booths and shops and vendors' carts, and hawkers crying out their wares, and craftsmen hard at work. The prices here are generally fairly low; the quality of the wares is moderate, though generally not exemplary. This, and the Merchant Square to the northwest, is the commercial hub of Behorde.

Contents:

Lanathyr

Jarvinia

Obvious exits:

Heavy Door leads to Behorde Smithy.

NorthWest leads to Merchant Square: Center Behorde.

Another clear brisk warm day in the city of Behorde descends upon the Market Place. Posted at the intersections are two legionnaire guards, easily spotted standing directly in torchlight. The normal vendor carts and hawkers have long disappeared with the coming of night, leaving their spots to head for home until tomorrow. Two horses, tethered to a pole, stand outside the smithy. One horse, a fine bred stallion of midnight black, is garbed in a rich brown leather tack, the saddlebags filled with various items. An insignia is stamped near the horn, a rank within the Behorde Legion. Any other persons on the streets quickly move about, their steps purposefully leading them to a tavern or home.

A younger man, dressed in the fineries of the merchant class stumbles along the street. Seemingly already drunk, stumbling into the odd person who passes by and offering a slurred, "Oh.. Im sorry" .. "Excuse me". He definately stands out, his drunken antics making some angry, and others laugh. Finally he arrives at the intersection with an exasperated sigh he looks to the tavern, perhaps a bit beyond, or before it and then snaps his head to the left looking at one of the gaurds. "Well! Mister Legionnare! Tis an honor... you are doing a FINE job!!." He goes to pat the guard on his shoulder with a wide drunken smile crossing Lanathyr's face.

The legionnaire shoves the drunken man’s hand away narrowing his eyes upon the brute. “Be on your way, drunk!” he shouts coldly, obviously not wanting to deal with the man. The comrade, across the street, glares too at the drunk before directing his attention to the area.

With a loud laugh right before the soldier he looks over to the horse and then back to the armored figure afore him. "Say.... whos horse is that?... she a beaut!" slurs the merchant. Though one hand reaches in his pouch and produces a few coins that he offers to the gaurd, out of view of the other.

Accepting the coins and slipping it behind his cloak from other eyes, the legionnaire grunts at the slurred questions. His hands reach out to grip the drunk’s doublet, gathering a fair amount of cloth, and tugging him closer as he hisses, “That is the lieutenant’s horse. Why the interest?”

"I've always wanted a horse like that... cant find beaut's like those anymore!" a loud chuckle once more as he looks into the gaurds eyes. A few ... much heavier coins than before... perhaps Gold Sovereigns are offered. "You... couldnt happen to.. look the... other way could you.... good friend." The entire last sentence is harshly whispered to the gaurd afore Lanathyr.

The legionnaire releases the drunk, rubbing the stubble at his chin in thought. His black eyes look from horse to the man, weighing the possibilities, his brow creased in concentration. “How many?” he mutters low, waving away the other posted legionnaire who makes a move closer to the drunk.

"How many will it take . . . good friend?" whispers the young merchant. His eyes look nervously to the other gaurd then back to the man before him, "... To keep his eyes averted too?" he chuckles and rests in an awkward posistion, almost looking as if he was resting against a wall.

“Two gold sovereigns,” the legionnaire grumbles low, knowing the price is steep. He steps aggressively closer to the drunk as the other legionnaire steps back to his post since it seems the matter is being handled. He hisses, eyes glaring into the drunk’s, “Enough to cover my life if the lieutenant discovers it was I who lacked in my duties.”

"Well is that all Mister Legionnare! I will follow the rules.. I am sorry... I am but a lowly merchant! no need to get angry now!" Calls out the seemingly drunk man as two heavy coins (gold sovereigns) are slipped into the guardsman's hand. Stumbling off towards the post where the horses are tied the young Merchant Lanathyr stumbles away, singing of some simple song with a repetitive tune.

With a feral grin, the legionnaire inspects the two gold coins in the light greedily ignoring the singing drunk. The other posted legionnaire whispers waving his hand to join him across the street. He, too, hums shaking the coins in the palm of his hand stepping alongside the other and chats, slipping one coin to the other.

Though as the "merchant" draws near he pulls himself up straight and stops his drunken ranting. His target is set, and nothing will get in his way. His feet move quickly yet at a casual pace as to not alert suspicion from anyone. Lanathyr pulls the large rucksack of various goods off his back as he reaches a nearby alley. Shrugging off his clothes revealing much more simple peasant like garb underneath. He shoves the clothes back into the sack before swinging it over his shoulder once more.

The only sounds save the whispering posted legionnaires drift through the market place. A cat, mangy and grimy, scurries out from an alley seeking bits of trash near the abandoned stalls. Both men deeply chuckle at the cat and turned their backs to the street, facing the larger area of the Market Square ahead.

With the final motion of drawing up a sword belt with two swords and buckling it over top of another simple black belt. Lanathyr simply grins as he looks out to the horse. Slow steady steps brings him before the horse, a hand moves up ever so slowly to calm the domesticated beast. "Hey there.." he whispers, his eyes moving from side to side in anticipation of the worst case scenario.

The smithy’s doors open, light spilling in a pool before the entrance and a tall figure appears. Within her hands is a newly repaired greatsword, torchlight glistening upon the metal and brightening the shadows across the woman’s face. Confident in her prowess, the lieutenant Jarvinia weighs the blade in her hands, transferring it from hand to hand, and swinging it a few times, ignoring those in the market place. She grunts in appeasement at the beauty of the weapon, the weight satisfactory and perfected, and sheathes it in the scabbard hung at the waist.

It seems shiny objects attract this mans attention, or perhaps it was the arrival of the armored figure from the smithy. Looking to horse then back to its owner, Lanathyr has a decision now... to retreat and find another mark to bring back to the valley. Or settle for being found out and being chased through Behorde on the back of this beautiful horse. With a sigh he unties the reigns from the post and heaves himself up onto the back of the horse.

Looking up towards her steed, Jarvinia’s eyes hardened to a cold steel seeing another upon her saddle. She shouts as her left hand shoots towards the Market Square, a glowing appearing upon the black glove, “Get off my horse!” Her steps, hard and quick, drive her to the stallion and thief, a grimace settling across her face. An orange misty cloud flows out from her hand covering the only exit from the area.

COMBAT - Jarvinia seals the passage between here and Merchant Square: Center Behorde for about 15 days.

You may only put one third of your EP into any one magical effect.

Seeing the mist form about the exit, Lanathyr moves the horse towards the exit with a quick mumble of a few words he extends his hand out it glowing to as he rides forwards into the cloud. Keeping his body close to the horse he simply rides at it full speed, hoping for the best.

Smirking evilly, Jarvinia takes her time to stride to the rider, each boot fall hitting the stone street heavily and echoing. A hand unsheathes her blade-it gleams in the torchlight. “Dismount,” she commands loudly drawing the attention of the posted legionnaires. Her weapon arm raises, the blade’s tip points directly at Lanathyr.

"I think you have a few control issues you need to work out young lady" offers Lanathyr as he turns the mount away from the entrance and spurs the horse past Jarvinia, pulling his body down towards the mount in the hope that the woman wouldnt be willing to risk harming her mount.

A loud laugh breaks as she easily dodges the charge skirting the blade to fit along her arm, as if it were part of her body. “Young lady?” she seethes raising a brow and curls her lips crudely, twisting her stance to a light balance. “You’re the one stealing my mount. And speaking of which,” placing two fingers between her lips, Jarvinia lets out a shrill whistle as the mount acknowledges bucking at its present rider.

Although his hands remain attached to the reins, the impact of the horn of the saddle into his chest throws the form of Lanathyr. After a short flight through the air, and a merchant stand. And a fair amount of noise later he stands brushing the dust from his clothes. "Im Alive..." he reassures himself. But then his eyes turn to the approaching Lieutenant.

Closing the distance with speed, Jarvinia’s smirk grows more sinister, her opponent falling to the ground. She kicks a wooden plank, broken from the stall, nearing the thief and pointing her sword above his face. “Now where were we? Oh yes. You thought to steal my horse. Do you know what the Legion does with thieves?” she asks condescendingly.

"Well if its anything like that outfit you are wearing... i do have need to fear for my life." With that he starts to sprint backwards hoping she will not have time to retort with her sword instead of words. In his movements a long curved blade is drawn in Lanathyr's right hand while a much shorter, straighter sword is drawn in his left.

COMBAT - Lanathyr unwields his Longsword.

COMBAT - Lanathyr wields his Katana in his right hand.

Colder eyes lock with Lanathyr’s as he draws his weapons and Jarvinia steps forward. “Either stand down,” she offers gently, yet sarcastically, “or face me. Though I do not know how long you will last.” Laughing, she rushes forward, swiping the greatsword from below and drawing it up in a whipping arc aimed to the thief’s right arm.

COMBAT - Jarvinia attacks Lanathyr with her Greatsword ...

... and Jarvinia hits Lanathyr, nearly wounding him.

With a wicked smile, one filled with the enjoyment of battle and the laughter at his own jokes. His stance shifts, which is the only thing that stops Jarvinia's well aimed attack from severing his right arm. The blade slides upwards at his arm and just barely catches the white sleeve tearing the soft cotton material. "You will pay for that... this is my favorite shirt." His stance is low and graceful, almost as though he were a wild cat stalking his prey. Yet he retreats, until he sees an opening in the Behordian's defenses.

A horizontal slash with the curved Katana's cutting edge aiming to slash from her right armpit up to her throat. His short sword stays in close in a defensive posistion, hoping to deflect any attack that might come from the greatsword.

COMBAT - You suffer 20 HP damage.

COMBAT - Lanathyr attacks Jarvinia with his Katana ...

... and Lanathyr hits Jarvinia, seriously wounding her.

A trickle of blood follows the slice, cutting through her chain mail to flesh. Jarvinia grunts, twisting her lips together, touching her free hand to the wound. “For that you will surely pay!” Steel slams into a cold glare from her eyes upon the thief’s movements adjusting her battle stance accordingly. She whips down the greatsword, adding weight to the attack, throwing it upon Lanathyr’s upper shoulder while drawing out her dagger with the free hand.

COMBAT - Jarvinia wields her Dagger in her left hand.

COMBAT - Jarvinia attacks Lanathyr with her Greatsword ...

... and Jarvinia hits Lanathyr, nearly wounding him.

Lanathyr's movements are fluid, perhaps the style and techniques are too foreign the Lieutenant to adjust to... perhaps not. Yet he moves foward again. His other foot moving straight to bring him into a low stance once again. His blade recovers with an overhead slice downwards at the Legionnares right shoulder. To perhaps disarm the greatsword from her grip. "Give up now... or face death." is spoken as the whistle of the blade through the air is heard.

COMBAT - You suffer 6 HP damage.

COMBAT - Lanathyr attacks Jarvinia with his Katana ...

... and Lanathyr hits Jarvinia, lightly wounding her.

The Katana hits her shoulder, banging hard to the chain mail breaking a few links, but does not loosen the greatsword from her grip. “Death from scum as yourself?” Jarvinia laughs deeply raising her stance to the offensive once more. Armed in both hands, she swings first with the greatsword, swiping to the face, then aims low with the dagger in the opposite direction to Lanathyr’s left arm.

COMBAT - Jarvinia attacks Lanathyr with her Greatsword and Dagger ...

... and Lanathyr barely manages to dodge Jarvinia's first attack.

... and Lanathyr dodges Jarvinia's second attack.

The twisting movements of Lanathyr's torso save his life, as the greatsword barely skims the entire length of his right arm. And in the same movement the thrust is foiled as it only finds open air. Coming back with another horizontal slice, he slides to his right aiming for her left side. The Katana coming in with deadly speed.

Tierimal has arrived.

The clanging of steel has not gone completely undetected, nor utterly unreported. True, it is late; late indeed. But the watch on the watchtower that rises high above the Keep never sleeps.

A soft stirring of wind; the whir of cloth upon air; the clink of chain echoes softly, drowned by the sounds of metal on metal. Floating into view from high above, gazing coolly about, the figure of a man hovers closer, alighting gargoyle-like on the rooftop of the Smithy.

COMBAT - Lanathyr sets his DAMAGE tactic.

COMBAT - You suffer 13 HP damage.

COMBAT - Lanathyr attacks Jarvinia with his Katana ...

... and Lanathyr hits Jarvinia, moderately wounding her.

Both blades meeting air, sliding past the sneaky thief, Jarvinia is caught unprepared as the Katana slices across her left side, cutting a gash across the upper arm. Gritting her teeth at another cause of pain, blood pouring from various wounds, the lieutenant groans under breath, moving her body from the attacker’s blade and switching tactics. Pulling a defensive stance, she mutters a broken phrase, an orb of orange and sparkling blue lightning skirting its sphere appearing before her face. A swift blow to the orb and it zips through the air, flying towards Lanathyr.

COMBAT - Jarvinia attacks Lanathyr by magical means ...

... and Lanathyr dodges Jarvinia's attack.

Lanathyr moves swiftly and comes at the woman, he is unrelenting in his strikes upon her. His run is like a mountain lion pouncing from rock to rock gaining on its prey. The orb of lighting shoots past the Bandit as he charges her. He pushes both swords forward, the Katana aimed at her chest, the Short Sword aimed at her left abdomen. He hopes to kill her with this strike, pushing forward with all his might.

COMBAT - Lanathyr sets his DAMAGE tactic.

COMBAT - Lanathyr sets his HIT tactic.

COMBAT - You suffer 6 HP damage.

COMBAT - You suffer 26 HP damage.

COMBAT - Lanathyr attacks Jarvinia with his Katana and Short Sword ...

... and Lanathyr hits Jarvinia with his first attack, lightly wounding her.

... and Lanathyr hits Jarvinia with his second attack, seriously wounding her.

The figure atop the roof of the Forge stirs slightly, black eyes cold and intent. A soft rustling, as he rises to his feet, moving lightly along the rooftop, finally coming to a halt with a frown. Softly his gauntleted hands click together.

Pounced by the attack, the swords breaking through the leathers at the chest, Jarvinia lets out a single growl, falling back a few paces. A positive muck of a mess, blood smearing against her garments and skin and trickling down her arms, the lieutenant still urges on in the battle fighting against the pain, letting the adrenaline fuel her forceful attacks. Breathing heavily, she slashes outward to the thief’s chest as well pulling together whatever energy she has left.

COMBAT - Jarvinia sets her DODGE tactic.

You invest 15 EP in your DODGE tactic.

COMBAT - Jarvinia sets her DAMAGE tactic.

You invest 15 EP in your DAMAGE tactic.

COMBAT - Jarvinia attacks Lanathyr with her Greatsword and Dagger ...

... and Lanathyr parries the first attack with his Katana.

... and Lanathyr easily dodges Jarvinia's second attack.

A great sound of steel upon steel as the mass of the greatsword collides with the curved blade of Lanathyr's Katana. He turns slightly so it will only deflect the attack, not stop it altogether. The twisting of his torso again sends the dagger to find only air in its futile attack. Pulling the sword around he comes again at the Liuetenant.... though in his peripheral vision he sights the movements of the dark figure. Unsure to what his intentions are he simply only keeps his eyes upon the man as the blade slices through the air for the womans side again.

COMBAT - You suffer 10 HP damage.

COMBAT - Lanathyr attacks Jarvinia with his Katana ...

... and Lanathyr hits Jarvinia, moderately wounding her.

The black-clad figure catches hold of the edge of the roof, dropping quietly to the street below. He lands gracefully, straightening. His boots click softly as he steps forward, gazing at the combatants quietly. One hand falls slowly to his sword-hilt.

The blade slices through her right side, chain mail links breaking at the sharp metal. Another growl comes from Jarvinia as she yanks both weapons to her sides, eyeing the twisty and dodgy bandit with hatred. Though she is close to being defeated, the lieutenant will have no part in that fact, a rage boiling her blood that she does not see nor hear the figure on the roof. The greatsword strikes through the air pulled downward, drawing weight upon the blade to Lanathyr’s face.

COMBAT - Jarvinia sets her HIT tactic.

You invest 5 EP in your HIT tactic.

COMBAT - Jarvinia attacks Lanathyr with her Greatsword ...

... and Jarvinia hits Lanathyr, nearly wounding him.

The blade does not hit its target, but rather just clips a piece of the leather armor that the Bandit wears upon his shoulder in its flight towards the now empty ground. With the mutterings of the words, "I'm sorry it had to come to this..." his Katana slices downwards at an angle aiming for her neck.

COMBAT - You suffer 31 HP damage.

COMBAT - Lanathyr attacks Jarvinia with his Katana ...

... and Lanathyr hits Jarvinia, critically wounding her.

Before a single word is uttered to his mutterings, the Katana slices deeply to her neck rendering Jarvinia helpless. Strength suddenly leaves her body as she drops to the ground in a heap of blood and grim, weapons clinging to the stone as they leave her grip. Her fingers curl digging into the cracks in the street, face pained from smacking the ground, and rumbles a few words, hoping the Legion will find the thief and dispose of his body, “Pity…is….for…the weak,” she barely gasps, a warm orange light eradiating from her body as a spell begins to work.

COMBAT - Jarvinia magically heals herself.

Tierimal takes another step forward, cloak rustling. Slowly he extends a gauntleted hand, fingers weaving ... "A strange blade," he muses, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, twisting his hideous scar. "Come!" he thunders, hand tensing suddenly in a convulsive, jerking gesture.

Tierimal attempts to use his powers of Flight to steal Lanathyr's Katana.

... and Lanathyr's Katana hurtles through the air to Tierimal.

The blade flies from Lanathyr's graps despite the intense struggle that he offers. A few muttered curse words as he sheathes his shortsword. "Will you strike down an unarmed opponent?" comments the bandit as he steps towards the cloaked figure.

Tierimal raises the katana thoughtfully, expression musing. "What a strange blade," he murmurs, sweeping into an open defensive stance with it as he turns, smiling beatifically at the man -- an effect horribly ruined by his scar. "Try me."

COMBAT - Tierimal wields his Katana in his right hand.

Recovery from a few of the wounds, Jarvinia stirs pushing herself from the ground quietly watching the bandit move closer to the cloaked figure. A knowing smirk crosses her face, death perhaps will find its way to the bandit’s heart. Feeling stronger, the lieutenant stands in silence, sheathing the dropped dagger, and wielding the greatsword to her side and waits.

COMBAT - Jarvinia unwields her Dagger.

"I have no wish to fight you... i did not even wish to fight this Legionnare..." he motions to the rising figure of Jarvinia. His footsteps bring him closer to the man, almost within a swords reach, though he does not cross the imaginary boundary that is most definately there. Lanathyr simply studies the man with cold eyes.

"Who is it that strikes down my Lieutenant?" Tierimal's voice is dangerously serene, quietly calm. His head tilts forward, black eyes widening -- flashing -- at last glowing a cold, bloody silver.

COMBAT - Tierimal attempts to use Vision to scan Lanathyr ...

"A Simple man" offers Lanathyr as he looks onwards to the man. His voice is casual, even when faced with this dark man afore him. "If you must really know.. the name is Lanathyr... might i trouble you for yours?" asks the young bandit.

The voice known to the two legionnaires in the Market Place hurry to stand alongside the weaken lieutenant, both arming themselves with short swords. Jarvinia normally would scold the two for not coming when the bandit first arrived, but her concentration is placed too intently upon the bandit and Archon. She stands ready to attack if called upon and rests until the order is relayed, scowling at the two at her side.

COMBAT - Jarvinia takes a moment to rest ...

COMBAT - Lanathyr takes a moment to rest ...

"You speak the truth," Tierimal declares, eyes reverting to cold, colorless black. "Your name is Lanathyr. And you are unwounded; truly, you must be a fearsome warrior." His mouth twitches slightly; not quite a smile, not quite a sneer. "A generous man, and yet one prone to revenge. Quite the conundrum." He lowers the katana, eyeing it silently. "Quite a weapon. Tell me; who sent you. Who provided you with this blade?" He neglects, for the present, to name himself ...

He too looks to Tierimal for a brief moment his eyes flashing white as though a bolt of lightning struck through their depths. Then he causually continues with the conversation, "No one sent me... And twas my fathers blade." offers Lanathyr as he looks upon the blade that the cloaked man holds in his hand.

COMBAT - Lanathyr attempts to use Vision to scan Tierimal ...

"Oh? /No one/ sent you here? Explain yourself -- or I will be somewhat irritated." Tierimal glances once more at the sword. "Your father's blade. Truly? I have seen few weapons of /this/ sort. It will make an interesting memento ... unless perchance I return it to you, hmm?"

Her thoughts, dark and wrought with anger, deepen within the rough edges of the lieutenant’s exterior. She spits to the side, blood filling her mouth, and wipes with a gloved hand, staining her lips red. The legionnaires at her side, tremble slightly at the lieutenant’s expression and the cold calculating words by the Archon. And they wait and listen, hands prone to attack swiftly, feet ready to swipe forward.

COMBAT - Jarvinia takes a moment to rest ...

I came into the own city on my upon my own will... i decided to steal your Lieutenant's horse... of my own will... I do not call any man master..." explains the young bandit as he leans against a nearby merchants booth. "Though... why would you return the blade to me? for i have assaulted a city guard... bribed those two..." his hand raises to point at the gaurds flanking Jarvinia, "And brought blood and violence to the Order of Behorde... you are no doubt of the Legion... for a simple man would not have taken so much interest in such a small scuffle."

"I am, at that," Tierimal replies coolly. "Very well-reasoned. You keep your wits about you, all things considered. I could crucify you for this ... or stake you out for the vultures." He pauses. "Bribed? How ... disappointing." His black eyes flicker toward the two guards, then back to Lanathyr. More impatiently, tapping the blade against the cobblestones: "Come, tell me: do you serve any man? Warlord, bandit, magician, or general? You fight too well to be untrained in the military arts."

"If i would owe my service to anyone.. it would be the bandits" offers Lanathyr cooly, "Though they did not train me... only shaved off the rough edges." chuckling softly to himself he looks to Tierimal, "It is only suiting to know my executioners name...?"

"Tierimal Avristrine. I may have a use for you, bandit." The dark man smiles, his scar twisting. "I take it you've received no word of Legion overtures. Or have you? I sent an envoy to the Bandits. Tell me what you know of him?"

"No... i have not heard any word of Legion overtures, nor of an envoy to be sent to the Bandits. Though i am sure in any case if he was received it would not be in the best light... for we are both not fools. The bandits hold both Aeldrene and the Legion responsible for the problems within the valley... we only wish to survive." He sighs softly as he finishes his words with the man.

Snorting at the bandit’s words, the lieutenant looks on with half disinterest only wanting the man dead where he stands. Though that want is crushed by the Archon’s idea to use the bandit. Disgusted even further, a grumbling hitting her gut, Jarvinia scowls deeply, tightening her fist and lowering her greatsword. To combat both the humiliation at being defeated and the bandit not paying for the attempted theft nor attacking her, the lieutenant grinds her boots into the cobble ground, smothering the feelings with a sinister grit.

"You seek to sign your own death warrant," Tierimal replies coolly, sheathing the katana thoughtfully. "I think I'll maim you a bit and send you back by way of a warning. You bandits dare set foot in MY city and attack MY officers?"

COMBAT - Tierimal unwields his Katana.

"I seek nothing... and your anger is unwarrented, if you would anger over simple truths spoken by your very people then there is little hope in you leading your legion to victory over Aeldrene." he sighs as he looks onto the man before him. "In any case, do what you will with me... I only spoke the general census... not my opinion."

"Oh, indeed? You deny stepping foot in this city to rob and assault my Lieutenant?" Tierimal snorts. "Yet perhaps we treat you overharshly. Drop your weapons and remove your armor. The just recompense for theft, as it were. I shall send you on to your leader unarmed and defenseless, and you shall bear my message to him. Better not to damage the messenger; the Valley is such a dangerous place, after all ... why, if I injured you, you might run afoul of robbers!"

"If you will return my fathers sword to me... upon your word." returns Lanathyr... unmoving.. almost defiant in his tone.

Tierimal smirks. "Upon the successful receipt of your message, when you carry his reply to me, you shall have your father's sword."

"Then so it shall be done." replies Lanathyr as his hands move to two straps at the side of his leather armor unlatching all the vital straps he places the leather armor upon the ground. Then he settles his sword-belt upon the ground with his Shortsword still sheathed.

COMBAT - Lanathyr unwields his Short Sword.

COMBAT - Lanathyr unwields his Leather Armor.

Lanathyr drops Short Sword.

Lanathyr drops Leather Armor.

Not in the least satisfied with the end result, the thief being allowed to escape unmarred into the Valley. Jarvinia glares towards the two men, an anger not cooled apparent in her eyes, the gray a cold steel. But in respect to the Archon’s command, the lieutenant speaks naught of her thoughts nor acts, standing at attention.

COMBAT - Jarvinia takes a moment to rest ..

The Archon's gaze flickers once more to Lanathyr. "Strip off everything," he repeats. "Cloak, daggers; everything save your clothes themselves and your boots. You go as a courier, not a herald." His lip twists. "And remember -- your father's sword depends upon the successful conclusion of your journey."

Setting the rucksack that he wears upon his shoulder to the ground and his cloak as well adding to the pile. "You need not remind me... I am no absent minded fool... do not treat me as a child."

Jarvinia tilts her chin haughtily, the bandit controlled by a mere blade seems preposterous to her mind and weak. With every piece dropped, Lanathyr removing his armor and weapons, the lieutenant gleams and sheathes her greatsword, the need unwarranted at the present time. Her scowl twitches hearing the arrogance of the bandit. “Do not speak to the Archon is such a manner,” Jarvinia sneers loudly, speaking up for once since her failure to apprehend him.

COMBAT - Jarvinia takes a moment to rest ...

COMBAT - Jarvinia unwields her Greatsword.

"My dear boy, whatever could have given you the idea that I treated you as a child?" Tierimal's sneer deepens. "My concern for your welfare, I assure you, is my utmost priority."

With a soft chuckle he looks into Tierimal's eyes, "What is the message you wish me to deliver?"

Tierimal's eyes glitter; he booms, "O my future subjects of the Valley; you poor, tormented souls cast adrift in the seas of anarchy. Know that I shall be master of this Valley, be it soon or be it late. Know that your service shall be rewarded, should you serve me. Know that full pardons await any man who steps up to aid Behorde in its vision of preservation and restoration -- full pardons and opportunities."

He pauses. "That is all. Put down your longsword as well, by the bye."

"I hope you will not be offended if i do not swear my allegiance to you... for as i have told you.. i call no man master." with that he turns towards the exit and simply asks, "May i leave now?"

"In time you shall," Tierimal replies calmly. "All of you shall. Lieutenant -- the barrier you have erected? You may lower it."

A heaviness weighs upon Jarvinia, her eyes and ears understanding the Archon’s plan, but her want to hurt the bandit resides. A deep breath. Then another. And another. Each pain with the stretching of the cuts and gashes upon her sides driving a wedge into the anger the lieutenant feels and expresses. Close she comes to repeating an incantation to destroy the bandit but withholds biting her tongue from the cursing and complies with the Archon’s command. The orange haze evaporates with a flick of her wrist, the last of her energy close to spent.

"We shall see..." offers Lanathyr, not moving in any manner to face Tierimal. He simply begins walking northwest to head back to the place he has called home for some time now. The solitary sound of his footsteps upon the cobbles fills the silent night air.

As Lanathyr walks away, Tierimal gestures toward the armor on the ground. "Yours, Lieutenant. Use it as you will." A faint, wicked smile begins to spread its slow way across his mouth; coupled with the scar, it lends him a demonic aspect.

And the bandit leaves unharmed. Jarvinia stands there watching coldly at his back not in the least pleased. Flipping to face the Archon, she sees the sinister-ness creeping across his features as he gestures to the armor. To his due at the gift, the lieutenant nods and salutes crossing the distance to retrieve the armor. “Thank you my liege,” she replies simply knowing the humiliation at failing him will arise later, perhaps punished. Both hands gather the armor clutching it to her chest, the weapons held too.

"Oh, and Lieutenant Jarvinia?" With a soft rasp, Tierimal draws the katana once more, turning it gingerly to extend the handle toward the Lieutenant. "For safekeeping ..."

Slipping a hand out from under the armor, Jarvinia eyes the katana, the thought of breaking it comes to mind shown clear upon her face. “It will be locked until needed,” she replies, her teeth gleaming to contain the truth as the hand accepts the katana.

"I have utmost confidence in you," Tierimal replies, still smirking. A fine example of doubletalk.

“Is there anything else you require my liege?” Jarvinia says, balancing the armor and weapons in her arms carefully. The anger remains to be used at another time though soothes little by the Archon’s words more upset at herself.

"You failed to defeat him." Tierimal shrugs. "You must atone by perfecting yourself. You will meditate on your battle -- and tell me how he defeated you. Then you will hone your skills such that you cannot be defeated again."

Lowering her head, Jarvinia replies, “Yes, Archon. I will not become a waste to this Legion nor you and sharpen my skills in haste. I will strive not to fail you again.”

"Good," Tierimal replies. "And be not discouraged; you prevented his escape, and thus aided our cause in the long run."

Jarvinia, harder on herself than the Archon, nods but doesn’t believe the statement. “A mere warding…” she begins and stops. To explain rashly and take the Archon’s time longer is not needed for he saw the battle himself. “Shall I see to the bribed legionnaires or shall you, my liege?” she asks to direct the subject elsewhere, bile and blood reaching her tongue in disgust.

"Deal with them as you see fit." Tierimal replies. "But do it in secret. We must not let the commoners hear of this. Aside from that one caveat, you may do /whatever you wish/ to them. Ascertain the depth of their crime; if they are still worthy of continued service to the Legion, you have my permission to spare them. If they were willfully and treasonously endangering you, make them SCREAM."

A sinister twitch touches her mouth, the idea having true merit. “As you wish,” is all Jarvinia softly says, eyes narrowing wickedly upon the two legionnaires whom shiver at the look and the Archon’s command. Venom to exact a little revenge since the bandit is not around is transferred to those men. “Anything else, Archon before I send them to the dungeons?”

"No. This is sufficient. Terrain speed you, Lieutenant." Tierimal tenses slightly -- then lifts slowly into the air ...

Tierimal has left.

COMBAT - Tierimal tries to fly upwards ...

... and he manages to reach Sky over Behorde.