[center] [color=f26522]Reinold Sul’athar[/color], the[color=fff79a] Outcast[/color]. [color=00aeef](MAIN)[/color][/center]

[center][h1]Artis Port[/h1][/center]


"[color=CEA2FF]If you were given a letter, I am the one you are to protect.[/color]"


Reinold’s grunt was the closest to a sound of approval as Yy’Sil was going to get. Sitting down, the Templar set the letter on the table, so that she could see the signature. “[color=f26522]My name is Reinold Sul’athar. I’m a hired sword, and there’s not much else to say. [/color]” Remaining calm despite the commotion from outside, he leaned back into his chair in a bid to get comfortable before continuing. “[color=f26522]I have questions of my own, when the time for them comes. [/color]” He frowned. The way her sister was able to find him left him uncomfortable. He looked her over carefully, his eyes cold and calculating. “[color=f26522]I don’t see a weapon, and you don’t have that ‘look’ in your eyes. The kind you get from splitting a man open. Wherever you’ve planned to go, I hope it’s nowhere risky. [/color]”


With each [i]thunk[/i] of steel stabbing into the wooden door, he maintained eye contact with the woman. He had to get a feel for how she held up under pressure. “[color=f26522]Here is my proposal. [/color]” Reinold drew his sword and set it on the table. The sound of it being set ever so gently betrayed its heavy weight. “[color=f26522]I’ll be your bodyguard for the time being. If someone so much as threatens you, I’ll see them choking on their own teeth or worse. If your sister doesn’t compensate me after the end of this job, I’ll see you pay for it. [/color]”


Once the door fell into splinters, Reinold stood up, sword in hand. There was silence as he watched the men enter the room, crossbows in hand. Their appearance sent the hairs on his neck stiff; a sensation he had felt only once before when his eyes fell upon the brown robes with gold trimmings. That alone was once too many for his lifetime. “[color=f26522]You wouldn’t happen to know a little magic, would you? [/color]” 


“Don’t you move a muscle,” one of the men growled. Weapons aside, they were far from intimidating. They robes they wore betrayed them as scholars rather than soldiers. In fact, they lacked any armor. Yet Reinold knew better. He slowly sheathed his blade, and raised his hands. 


“[color=f26522]I’m not a mage, [/color]” he said as they approached. “[color=f26522]The girl, maybe, but I’m as plain as they get. [/color]”


“Shut up!” The trio drew close, as one pulled a strange device from his satchel. When he pointed it at Yy’Sil, it glowed at let out a shrill ringing. One of the Artificers fired a bolt, prompting Reinold to duck As the fireball flew from his charge’s hand, he grabbed the table and flipped it towards the men; pinning them underneath. In the same breath, he pulled Yy’sil along as he ran out the back. 


“[color=f26522]A bloody mage, [/color]” he muttered under his breath. “[color=f26522]Why couldn’t you just be normal? [/color]” As they back door opened, sunlight poured into the inn. Shielding his eyes, the Templar led the way into the back alleys. They were nearly as crowded as the main streets, yet he made quick work of clearing the way. Not many stood in front of an armor-clad juggernaut. 


The Artificers rushed out the door in purist, and it did not take long for the remaining bystanders to draw accurate assumptions. As a bolt flew by Reinold’s head and caught the skull of a street performer, panic spread through the streets. Many cried for help as they surged out of the alley; blocking the exits. Muttering a curse under his breath, Reinold turned around to face the Artificers.


“[color=f26522]If you’ve got any tricks up your sleeve, don’t use them yet. [/color]” His face was pale. While many things could not break his calm exterior, the Templar lacked any real confidence in the confrontation. It was not the men who worked that fear into him. 


From the inn emerged a tall, hooded figure. Its height would have indicated half-giant roots, but something was off. The way it walked as unnatural and forced. If one listened carefully, it could hear a slight wheezing from under that hood. Moving in front of the Artificers, it pulled down the hood to reveal a head made of steel; a crude mask lacking anything but eyes hiding away any shred of humanity. One who was sensitive to magic would be as repulsed by the abomination as one would if they stepped in excrement. It was an affront to nature, and reeked of rotting flesh and oil. As the hood fell, so did its cloak; revealing nothing but metal plating, as if it was a suit of armor.


“Drop your weapons,” one of the Artificers said, “or we’ll fit them down your throat.” 


Reinold stepped in front of Yy’Sil, and grunted. “[color=f26522]We’re lucky, this time. Husks rely on the braindead hosts within to regulate its magic intake. Listen to me carefully. [/color]” 


“HALT!” City guards squeezed their way into the alley, surrounding Reinold, Yy’Sil, the Artificers and the one thing no sane man would confront. “Drop your weapons! You’re under arrest!” One of them moved towards the Artificers. The Husk – in a startling display of speed – whirled around and grabbed the guard by the throat; lifting him up like a doll. Nothing but wheezes came from the guard as the others stepped back. 


“[color=f26522]Cover your eyes, [/color]” Reinold muttered. 


The guard kicked and tried to try the hands free, before the Husk threw its fist into his face. With a loud [i] [color=ed1c24]crunch[/color][/i] the  bloodied fist emerged from the back of the guard’s skull; covered in blood, matter and bone fragments. The Husk let go of the corpse’s throat, before using its bloodied arm to throw it through the wall of the inn. The Artificers raised their crossbows to the city guard. 


“Interfere, and the rest of you will die far worse deaths,” one said, as the Husk turned to face Reinold and Yy’Sil again. 


The Templar rushed forth, swinging his blade to get the Husk’s attention. With a swing of its arm, the construct met his blade and sent him stumbling back and his blade to the ground, before reaching for his throat as well. Lifting him up, its metal fingers closed around his windpipe. His face quickly turned red, and the veins started to protrude from his skin. However, Reinold remained calm. Swinging his legs, he caught one of his boots on the Husk’s chest. The other boot lined up with it before he extended his body into a plank. 


The sound of chains breaking came from the Husk’s chest before the metal plate opened to reveal an exposed chest cavity. The heart was pumping erratically, and what skin that could be seen was green in color. The Husk raised its fist to do the Templar in, much like the guard. Reinold looked over his shoulder at Yy’Sil.
 

“[color=f26522]Fire, [/color]” he croaked, “[color=f26522]now![/color]”