[center][img]http://peterbaxterafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Page-Divider.png[/img][/center]

Marlowe’s face grew red with laughter, as he nearly keeled over, slapping his knee. “No-No!” he said as Viera began to rain down blow after blow aimed at his head. “I promise! This is all Rauz! I’m innocent I swear!” He laughed, wrapping his arm around the small girl to stop her attack. “It’s just a joke.” He smiled into her pursed up, reddened face, a mix of anger and embarrassment at the joke. He turned his head to his old friend, giving him a halfhearted smile. It seemed so strange to see him in such high spirits after their past year. “It’s good to see you again, old friend.” 

He released Viera, who crossed her arms in a huff, and bridged the gap between the group. “Miss Azarnite, this is Mathis Rauzil. He’s the most read mind in this side of the world, an expert on both alchemy and magic. He’s also pretty handy with a spear when things get too dangerous.” 

“Please. I’m just a scholar. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” He turned to Marlowe. 

“I’m actually surprised to see you’ve stopped by.  I would have expected you to be on another foolhardy quest by now.” 

“Well, I guess we’ve been roped into a new adventure.” He smirked. “We ran into our old friends, Delios and Lathilos.” 

“And-“ 

“No, he wasn’t there. They have a new friend. She’s got similar skills to Viera and myself.” He frowned. “And she’s pretty damned powerful.” 

“It’s The Order. They’re all powerful.” 

[center][img]http://peterbaxterafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Page-Divider.png[/img]

8 months ago

[img]http://peterbaxterafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Page-Divider.png[/img][/center]

It had been raining since that day. Marlowe had been recovering; Viera was tending to him. Even though he could heal, it didn’t mean that having every bone in both his arms shattered would magically fix themselves overnight. It had been hell on 
Marlowe, but it had been worse on Rauz. 

Marlowe could hear the baby crying again. The creaking of wooden floorboards, and the muffled sounds of Rauz’s voice. “Shhh, shhh. It’s okay. Daddy’s here.” His voice was calm, warm—the voice you would expect from a caring father. Marlowe stood at the ceiling, wanting to move, wanting to do something. 

He didn’t move. 

Hours passed, and the floorboards creaked into another room. It was late; Viera was asleep near him, careful not to move or hurt his bandaged arms. Marlowe hadn’t slept—he couldn’t sleep cooped up in bed all day. He heard the heavy thud of a body fall atop a mattress, and then the muffled sobs of a man. 

He didn’t move. 

It only took a few days to recover, but it felt like years. Marlowe touched Rauz’s shoulder as he left, giving promises of his return, giving promises things would make things right. “Marlowe. Promise me—promise me you will kill him." 

He moved.