[center][h2][i][color=A8232A]Brina Kerr[/color][/i][/h2][/center]

In her dreams she saw it again. A thing with too many mouths, a hulking bulk of squirming tendrils and horror that burst through a fake wall. The gluttonous black monstrosity bearing down upon them emitting a shrike that shattered eardrums and broke the nerves of even their most hardened warriors. It plowed through their group, tentacles and many hands all tipped with razor sharp blades cut, slashed and butchered while others dragged hapless victims closer to be consumed by its ravenous maws. So many, why did it have so many mouths!

[hr]

A scream and a bust of sunlight erupt from a small glade in the forest. After that all that can be heard is a panicked hyperventilation. This is then slowed, conquered, controlled and replaced by the deep slow breaths of meditation. She reminds herself that those nightmarish creatures can be felled, they can be beaten, and that she and her kin have done so and will continue too time and time again till the world is cleansed. Eventually sleeps comes again, not easily, but it comes. The morning sun comes later and washes away the last of her stress, and she smiles once more. 

[hr]

It had been about a month since Brina completed her journey to dispose of that wretched slab, a month during which her remaining supplies had dwindled to naught and yet she still had yet to find a place in these foreign lands. So for the time being she had set up some way outside of Apulum, in the woods beyond the farmland that surrounded the city. While for the time being she had managed to get food by hunting, in these lands game was less plentiful than it was in the north. Blasting sparrows out of the air with beams of light might be rather easy if she could get close enough, but the pulp that remained after the poor bird received a projected mace strike was barely worth the effort. By comparison the one time she had managed to sneak up on and then blast the brains out of a deer had been a glorious feast, but that meat was long gone and so she was left to make sparrow (or rabbit or crow) gib stew most days, and going hungry the rest. She needed to find a way to earn coin so she could buy food or at this rate she might well starve.

Every few days she would make the trek from the little clearing she had set up camp, packing up all her belongings so that some woodsman or bandit did not steal them while she was away and then she would make for the city too seek work. She had high hopes now that the arena season had come around, fighting was one of the things she did best, right giving dramatic retellings of the stories of her tribe’s gods and legendary heroes, though that was sadly not in high demand. It turns out there were few occupations where those in the city would be willing to trust an outsider, let alone a heavily scarred Torguren woman. IT didn't help that many of the town’s jobs appealed to her in the slightest, she was a seasoned warrior and she was not going to be some maid, midwife or harlot. She had sent the man who suggested that last careening through the ceiling. She needed a job fit for a warrior but she had yet to find any one willing to trust her to guard their backs or trade caravan, but the arena seemed promising, there her appearance and origins might giver her more clout rather than be a disadvantage as it seemed to do everywhere else. For the Torguren were thought of as strong, vicious and dangerous by the mewling Venatrians and those where all qualities you wanted in a gladiator.

Here optimism was well placed, for she found out that the Valens noble family was seeking any and all volunteers for a fighting team and so once she had gotten directions she set off immediately for their manor outside of town. It was a grand building and Brina could not help but relish being able to see why the Venatrian rich seemed to feel the need to build the massive elaborate buildings for themselves.

The crimson robed warrior walked up to the gates wearing her armor as she usually did when she traveled. Said armor notably featured two metal skirts protecting the sides of her legs that hung down from her waist. From the right skirt hung a long thick mace emblazoned with runework, a simple brutish weapon but an effective one, particularly against that which did not bleed. To the left was a large tome, oddly chained to her side so that it could be pulled upwards to be read, but if the reader where to release it the book would slide back into place at her side. On her back was a traveling pack with a tent and various odds and ends that were useful for someone traveling the wilds.

She arrived at the gates, greeted the guards and was lead inside. She took a moment to examine the others. There were mixed feelings at seeing three Torguren looking men among the group, for on the one hand it would be good to fight with those of her kind, yet with the inter clan conflicts an almost constant state of being in the north it was hard to know who was friend or foe. Might her clan have fought against theirs and if so would they resent her, or in being here in exile had they cast such loyalties and grudges aside? She certainly kew that she had done no such thing and she detested the clans squabbling with a passion.

There was also warrior who appeared to have taken the exact opposite approach to her in armor, his arms, legs and head protected but his center bear. If they were to combine armor sets you would probably get a warrior as well armored as the guards in the school and have basically nothing left over but a single glove and have one arm left bare.

There was the lady who presumably was to be their sponsor sitting in a simple throne at the end of the training yard whom Brina would get a better look at once her turn came. 

Finally there were the young boy and the strange individual covered head to toe in black. While her own appearance might make judging someone for wearing covering garment somewhat hypocritical, Brina still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about them. Perhaps it was his stillness. Perhaps the faceless man in black reminded her too much of the descriptions of the Dark One. Had she continued to simmer with suspicion and unease it might have boiled over into drastic action, however the barbarian cleric was, fortunately, rather distracted by the fact that there was alcohol on offer. She hadn't had a drink in what seemed like forever and so quickly found her way to the table with the wine and began partaking of it with relish. Not enough to disrupt her performance (she hoped), but enough that it ended up taking her mind off the cloaked man's unsettling appearance.