[center][img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/357353496057610242/531937501057777664/sym1A1.png?width=240&height=301[/img] FP: 0 MP: 04[/center] “Ever kill a troll before?” The voice was sandy with a highly inflected accent, giving it a suave and regal tone. It had come from a man dressed in plates of steel, the surfaces painted with charcoal to keep it from rusting. A sword hung from his hip and a heater shield was slung over his back. His face sported a jet black mustache over well tanned skin, the top of his head covered in loose curls. “A Gjornenahabblestrjikn or two,” a much younger man answered. He wore the same outfit, yet his voice was very different, deep but youthful and energetic. His skin was a moon pool white, two blue eyes set in his face, his own black hair loose around his shoulders. The pair of men stood, leaning over the railway of a small galley, the wash of the sea’s waves pushing up against the sides of the boat. Salty air whipped their hair behind them and billowed in the wide linen pants of the sailors that pushed the ship onward with long paddles. The brine coated their faces as equally as the two armored men’s suits. “Yeah?” The accented one goaded, “I said ‘troll’ not Gjornenahabblestrjikn.” “What’s the difference,” The blue eyed one didn’t bother to look up from the horizon. “Not much,” The accented one picked at a loose fabric in the palm of one of his gloves, “but enough.” “It’ll die,” Blue eyes nodded, “we’ll come back, there will be a party, I’ll dance with Swedren and you’ll polish your sword.” He turned onto his shoulder so as to face the accented warrior, “just as always.” The accented one raised a brow, “I don’t know about that… those Garthilian women, they can’t resist an accent.” “It isn’t how you say, it’s what you say, and you’re better off a voiceless,” Blue eyes looked back over the horizon, “oh. You know what?” “What?” The accented one turned from the horizon. “Maybe you could ask the troll to the dance, as they frogs say, two birds one stone,” A small smile curved on the young soldier’s face. “Oh yeah!” The accented one smacked the back of blue eye’s head, his voice mocking “as the [i]frogs[/i] say, shut up and keep your tongue.” Blue eyes gave a small snicker, “whatever helps you sleep at night.” “Sirs!” A sailor pointed ahead, “right there.” Following the finger of the sailor, the two warriors could see a small atoll breaking from the mist of the sea, it’s dark rocky shores uninviting, gnashing like teeth as the waves rose and fell around it. Though small, a mighty hill rose from the atoll, dark and craggy with very little vegetation at all, save a few green patches with speckles of white. “Sheep,” The Accented one noticed them. “Sheep… sheep, isn’t that more of a giants thing?” Blue eyes turned to the accented one who simply rolled his eyes. “Lots of jokes today, huh, Renevin?” the Accented one accused. “They say, they say,” The blue eye’d Renevin nodded, “but Hondros, how can I possibly not be in a good mood after yesterday?” The galley shook as it hit a sandbar, planks creaking, “no idea,” Hondros grunted, “up and over.” With that the two vaulted over the side of the galley, their boots splashing into the chilly waters. The water rose to their stomachs as they waded the rest of the way. It was a slow trudge, and more than once they worried about being spotted, as if the troll leap from its hill and chase them down into the sea. The warriors remained quiet regardless, their lips pursed as they forced their way onto the dark rocks of the shore. “If it wasn’t for the midday breeze and sun,” Renevin remarked, “I’d really hate this.” “Could be warmer,” Hondros complained as he took the lead, his blade ringing out of its sheath. The length of the blade was covered in old runes and engravings, giving it a fearsome look, Renevin’s own blade seemed to match the style, but held different runes. Before the two men was a long winding path, or at least it could be called path-like. The stones of the hill gave way where it had experienced the most trodding, coupled with a distinct lack of what sparse vegetation there was and rusted stains of victims past. With all these factors tied together, the pair had a good idea of what its purpose was. Hondros and Renevin began their trek up the hillside, the rocks clambering underfoot, and the sea breeze biting into their soaked britches and padding. Sheep bayed in the distance and some gulls hawked nearby, but other than that the atoll held a certain silence that caused a shiver to run up the warriors’ spine, their fists white under their gauntlets as they held their blades. Hondros slid his shield onto his arm, Renevin following suit, as the ground began to level, the path now curving inwards towards the side of a rocky cliff-face. As they began to turn the curve, the two noticed a dark impression in the face: a great gaping cave. Immediately the two shuffled to the cliff-face, their armored backs pressing against the rocky wall in fear of someone or something staring out from the cave. Hondros looked back at Renevin, who gave a curt nod. Slowly the two strafed the rock wall, edging their way closer and closer, until they were so close that Hondros could feel the cold earthy air exiting the cave on his face. Hondros gently extended his right arm, his shield tapping Renevin’s breastplate. Renevin nodded and the two sucked in a large breath before suddenly exploding into the entrance of the cave, their eyes quickly expanding as the darkness grew around them. It was only a second, but a terrifying one, as their eyes adjusted. Too slow did their vision return to them, and as far as the pair was concerned, they wished it hadn’t. Before them was cruel paintings penned on the wall of the cavern. They could only imagine it was penned with a thick gnarled finger dipped in fresh blood. The entire cave stunk of rot and piss, making Hondros wonder by what magic he didn’t smell it sooner, and causing Renevin to stifle a gag. In the center of the cavernous atrium was a crude, and most likely stolen, cast iron cauldron, limbs sticking out of its bubbling brew. Past it the cave continued into darkness, the gloomy stones not helping their eyes discern the depth. The pair gripped their weapons anxiously, and thoughts of the troll having followed them, playing them for fools entered their minds as they circled each other, making sure to keep each others backs accounted for when suddenly there was a muffle. The warriors skidded on their heels as they turned to the sound. A lump moved in the shadows -- much too small to be a troll. Renevin bumped his shoulder off of Hondros and the pair moved forward as one, shields up front and center. The figure shivered and backed up against the cavern wall as the two approached, causing them to slow down. Renevin squinted, the figure of a ragged and beaten woman entering his vision. Her hands were tied together in a rope made out of ligaments whose origin he didn’t want to think about, but more pressing was her leg. He noticed a large dry stain of blood on her calves as well as a festering near the sides of her knees. “Must be one of the women from Urryl,” Hondros all but whispered. “Hamstrung,” Renevin croaked past the smell of the cavern. The warrior knelt down, lowering his weapon, the woman whimpered and he placed his sword on the ground, showing a peaceful palm. Hondros’ gut clenched and he kept his shield and sword ready, standing behind his crouched companion. “Urryl?” Renevin coaxed as comfortingly as possible, inciting a rapid nod from the woman. “We are the Praxian Storm Guard,” Renevin gave a small smile, “we’ll get you out of here-” A metallic slam echoed throughout the cavern as a massive knotted club slammed into Hondros, sending the warrior across the floor, his armor grinding against the stone as he skidded. Renevin slapped his hand onto the handle of his sword and spun to meet his foe, sword and shield ready. There before him was a hulking beast of blotted skin, rope like muscle, and yellow stained eyes. It stood nearly twice his height and hefted a gnarled club stained a rusty red. Crude cutting tools were tied around its naked waist, and without missing a moment, the troll attacked. Renevin ducked under the swinging club and brought his sword to bear, but before he could connect, one of the troll’s beefy arms slapped him back. The warrior managed to maintain his footing, his reactions just barely kicking in as he leapt out of the way from another swing of the heavy club. This time the soldier had enough space to quickly cleave his blade into the arm of the troll, the sword sinking deep into the fatty flesh, down to the white of the bone. The troll howled and backhanded Renevin, the blade still stuck in its arm. The soldier was sent flying backwards, the impact lifting him off his feet. He slammed into the ground, his back cracking from the impact and his shield arm smacking into the wall with a loud clang. From pain squinted eyes he saw a shadow move behind the troll, and suddenly the flash of Hondros’ blade caught his attention. Caught unaware, the troll never saw Hondros get back up, his blade cutting deep across the back of the trolls knees. Dark blood oozed out from the hamstring and the troll hollered in pain. Renevin jumped to his feet, ignoring the shocking pain throughout his body, and before the troll could react, Renevin expertly lunged his sword under the arm of the troll, the muscle snagging his blade as it slipped through the armpit and ribs, and right into the heart. The troll roared, but it quickly turned to a gurgle as Hondros sunk his own blade into the back of the troll, piercing a lung. Renevin ripped his sword free and then slammed its point into the troll’s throat, forcing a gush of scarlet from the meaty beast and bringing it to the floor. Renevin’s blade slipped out as the troll came crashing down, and for a moment or two it simply convulsed on the ground before turning stiff and still in a pool of its own. Hondros let out a long breathe and immediately glared at Renevin, “the ARM!?” “Out of every part of this fat thing and you go for the arm?” “It was in my wa-” Renevin shook his head, “-the girl!” Hondros snapped to and the pair rushed to the huddled over woman. In the gloom of the cavern they saw her shivering form, a sense of relief washing over them. Renevin’s blade rasped as he shoved it back into its scabbard and slung his shield over his back. Kneeling down towards the woman he spoke softly, “we are going to take you away from here, bring you back home.” Her chin wobbled, and the pair couldn't tell if it was a nod or from her silent sobbing. Renevin furrowed his brow and slide his arms under the ragged woman, dried ooze scraping against the metal that covered his arms. She was much lighter than he expected, but that was hardly a comfort as he hefted himself upright, his new ward safely in his arms. The trio made their slow retreat from the cave, Hondros taking a brief second to look back at the scene, the cauldron still bubbling. His nose scrunched and with little word the group exited the killing grounds. Immediately the group was met with fresh sea air, their lungs expanding greedily and expelling the gruesome stink of the cave. The midday sun stung their eyes briefly as they readjusted to the outside world, Renevin’s gaze stuck on the woman in his arms. She was scrawny, the bumps of her neck and collar pressing against her bloodied skin. Her dress was in tatters and stuck to her in crispy wafers, and despite being free from the cave, Renevin couldn’t help but smell the bubbling cauldron in her web-like hair. Despite all this, her eyes were alert and open, her breathing quick. Renevin looked up at Hondros who gave him a worried look, but without a word the two carried on, making their way back down the hill as swiftly and safely as they could. The sheep paid them no mind as they skidded across, no new threats emerged, and yet the soldiers couldn’t help but feel a well of anxiety grip their throats. Her breathing seemed to slow as they approached the waters, and the pair’s pace quickened. The water bit into their legs once more, and her eyes closed. The waves lapped at their waists and they pushed as fast as they could. Renevin held the woman as high above his chest, suffering the consequence of getting a noseful of the stench, his own eyes closing as to avoid her bristled hair, only to open at the sound of the galley creaking against the waves. Hondros grabbed the railing of the boat and with a few helpful tugs from the sailors, lifted himself over the side and onto the deck with a wet slam. Turning he offered his hands down to Renevin, “give her to me.” Renevin looked up with a sad look, “She’s gone.” Hondros narrowed his eyes, “what?” “How? How do you know?” Hondros furrowed his brow, “hand her up.” Renevin shifted her in his arms, bringing his gauntlet to his face and biting the leather finger, tugging it off his hand. Taking his now bare finger he pressed it into her stretched, limp neck. He sucked in a salty breath and waited, only for a darkness to take over his eyes. Shaking his head up at Hondros. The older soldier pursed his lips. “Let her go.” Renevin looked up at the soldier quizzically who answered, “she’s been enslaved in that cave for her final moments, she deserves freedom in death.” Renevin peered down at the dead woman in his arms, expelling a sad breath. Gingerly the soldier lowered the body in the water, the weak form floating on the waves. Her hair expanded around her like a halo and Renevin looked up at Hondros, he opened his mouth to speak but said nothing before closing it again. The older soldier nodded in understanding. Gently Renevin pushed he body away from the boat, the new sea angel slowly making her way to a watery freedom. Without much else, the younger soldier heaved himself over the rail, landing on the deck of the galley. He turned to Hondros who in turn turned to the sailors, “headway to Ylldyn.” [hr] K’nell sighed as he peered into a strange translucent orb. With little fuss, the God of Dreams placed the item on a pedestal next to his throne, and leaned back into his seat. “Interesting.” [hider=Summary] Hondros and Renevin make their way to an atoll known to be the lair of a troll that has been terrorizing the fishing villages in the area. The pair manage to find the liar, only to be surprised in finding a survivor. The warriors slay the troll and rescue the girl, only for her to die later. They set sail for home, their quests long from being done. THEN It turns out the entire kerfuffle is the result of a dream trapped in a viewing orb. [/hider] [hider=Might] 1 MP spent and then discounted to 0 on the Orb of a Particular Dream [/hider]