The sign hanging from the exterior of Paulos’ tavern swung in the gentle breeze, the old wooden building an ancient grey. The smell of smoke snuck out through the loose plank wood door, the entrance hanging two stone steps from the ground. The clay tiles shuffled on the roof of the story high building and as the three Praxians approached, D’Bran gave it a disapproving look. Before he could say anything, Hondros suddenly let out a hot sigh. “Chickens?” He glared, “Now we are going to have some bright eyed kid running around telling every chicken farmer in the area we are looking for a flock.” “Better than tipping off the mark,” Renevin gave a curt nod and adjusted the bag around his shoulders. Hondros rolled his eyes and secured a crossbow to his back and fidgeted with his sword belt. “Come on.” Hondros pushed through the door of the tavern and immediately the interior air rushed to exit. They were slapped with the stale breath of a midsummers alcohol and damp tobacco. Renevin wiggled his nose and D’Bran smiled. “Smell that?” Renevin nodded slowly, giving D’Bran a conspiratory look, “Oh I do.” The pair scanned the room. It was unremarkable with an empty hearth, the wooden windows flung open to let in what little air dared to ooze in from the outside. A humid warmth stagnated around the creaky floors and unpainted walls. The chairs were neat, at least, and not a speck was left on the tables. The bar itself was a different story, holding the grizzled failures who occupied their alcoholistic tendencies in the middle of a work day. Most were slumped over or arguing about the local politics. Garthilians experienced a good amount of freedom, with estate owners like Nopoitis controlling the rural job markets, but otherwise work was optional and not enforced by local lords. Still, one would wonder what the local lord would think of this mess, let alone their opinions, as for Renevin, who was he to judge; his eyes focused on a still smouldering cigar of tobacco sitting by a dirty dressed man who held his face down against the bar and his arms wrapped around as if he was sleeping. “D’Bran,” He nudged the sandy haired man and the larger man turned and squinted before smiling. The pair slowly floated over to the far end of the bar where it sat, forcing Hondros to follow as the older man continued to scan the room. They barely caused their stools to creak before the bartender was on them. “What can I get-” He stopped as he soaked in the heavily armed trio, “Am I interrupting a siege I didn’t know about?” “Oh,” D’Bran waved a hand, “No, we are just out looking for chickens.” Hondros pinched the bridge of his nose. “If ye want good hens,” A drunk gargled in the distance, “My cousin always has a good stock.” “Thank you but,” Hondros shook his head, “I think we are all set.” “Not good enough fer ye, eh?” Renevin let a small smile form on his face as the two men continued their latest debate. He jabbed a finger into the sleeping mess next to him, “Hey.” The drunk squirmed angrily and grumbled but didn’t get up, “Hey.” Renevin jabbed him again, “You going to finish your smoke?” The drunk waved a shooing hand without looking up and Renevin shrugged. He flicked the smoke up to his lips and took in a heavenly puff. D’Bran skipped his stool closer and shouldered Renevin, “How bout a puff for old D.B.?” He pleaded. Renevin pinched it out of his mouth and handed it over, “Dumb Bastard?” “You’re a natural comedian,” D’Bran jeered with a cloud of smoke, “Maybe you should think about changing jobs.” He sucked in a greedy pull, the embers glowing a hot red s it traveled up the paper. Renevin swiped it from D’Bran’s mouth and plucked it back into his own, causing the man to groan. Renevin waved him off and turned back to Hondros and the bartender. “-- just a ways up the road, roosting in one of those old abandoned Praxian forts.” “Which one?” Hondros asked, elbows on the bar as he leaned in. They were all but whispering. “Orriyix,” The bartender offered, “Local Lord hasn’t caught wind of it yet, I only know because my niece saw it land.” “And you didn’t tell anyone?” Renevin cut in, “Why not?” “Not my place, and I don’t really care,” The bartender shrugged, “Besides, I’d hate to be the one responsible for the slaughter of a strange and mystical being.” “Yet you told us,” D’Bran raised his brow. “I guess I did,” The bartender gave him a hard stare and put a glass on the table with a hard glass clang, “You boys drinking?” “Pissing,” Hondros corrected and stood up, “I’ll be back, should probably check on the wagon boy anyways.” The other two watched as Hondros left and as he did they swiveled back to the bartender. D’Bran held up two fingers and the bartender shrugged and turned to fetch some mugs. Renevin rubbed his forehead, “It’s not even the afternoon.” “Yeah, but we aren’t working today,” D’Bran defended. “We--” Renevin sat up straight, smoking cigar hanging from his mouth, “What the hell do you think we are doing right now?” Two mugs slid down to D’Bran and he lifted one, “I don’t know, drinking?” “You’re a genius, I hope you’re aware of that,” Renevin scrunched his nose at his drink. “And don’t you forget it.” Eventually D’Bran finished his drink, all the while Renevin’s grew warm and untouched. Beady eyes stared at them the whole time from across the bar. An old man who wore anxiety in his forehead couldn’t take his eyes off the two. Eventually Renevin noticed the man and nudged D’Bran, who slowly turned to look. Instant regret washed over the duo as the old man’s eyes brightened when they made accidentally contact with the Praxian’s gazes. “Void be damned.” They swore as the old man made his way to them. As he approached he grew happier and happier until- “Praxians!” A smile formed on his thin lips, “By Harmony, you are Praxians!” His face was beat red with intoxication and his breath wasn’t much better. Renevin leaned back. “We are,” He scanned the man, “What of it?” “My son,” The man squeezed Renevin’s arm, causing the man to shake him off, “You have to save my son.” “What are you talking about?” Renevin stood up, forcing the man to stagger backwards. D’Bran stood next to Renevin. “If your son needs saving, why don’t you do it,” D’Bran snapped, “Instead of hauling away in the drunkhouse.” “I couldn’t watch,” He started to sob, “The Lord’s men are there, but I don’t think they can save him.” “What happened,” Renevin finally asked. “I--” The man choked on his confession, “I’ve done some bad things. I angered a lot of people and now they are at my house, holding my son -- knife to throat -- in hopes I pay a ransom.” “Sounds like you should pay your ransom,” D’Bran gave the man a cold stare. “Or at the very least, not bring your work home with you,” Renevin added. “Please, this is my son!” Renevin closed his eyes and let out a silent breath, “Why do you need us if the Lord’s men are already there?” “They are brutes, dumb sword happy brutes. They’ll make the wrong step and get my son killed,” He slammed his fist into his palm. D’Bran looked at Renevin, who returned his stare. After a few seconds of wordless debate, the two looked back and Renevin exhaled the last of his cigar, “Alright, show us the way.” The small man hurried to the door, the Praxians lumbering behind. Hondros nearly walked into the group as he was entering the bar, “Woah, leaving so soon? Did I miss the dinner bell, what’s going on?” “We got hired to be nanny’s” D’Bran answered. “Well, not nanny’s. Nanny’s keep babies out of trouble, this one is already in trouble,” Renevin corrected. “Post-nanny’s?” D’Bran was cut off by Hondros. “D’Bran, Renevin!” “We are saving this drunk’s son from some thugs,” Renevin clarified, “We can hop onto Orriyix after.” “I don’t remember you getting promoted,” Hondros crossed his arms, “But you must’ve with all these orders you’re taking and giving.” “Hondros,” Renevin pleaded, “It’s literally written in stone; we help.” “Doesn’t say anything about stretching ourselves thin, though,” Hondros sighed and waved for the old man to continued walking, “Let’s just make this quick.” [hr] Up the road a ways and down a steep grassy slope was a large wheat plantation. The sun glinted over the horizon, threatening to set in the next few hours and casting a long shadow over the front of the stone and lime building. A windmill creaked in the distance and a group of four soldiers stood silent by the door of the estate. The Praxian’s footsteps were muffled by the growing wind, giving them an almost ghost like descent to the soldiers. Finally a stray twing snapped under Hondros’ boot and everyone looked at each other. “What’s going on?” Hondros opened with. “Who are you?” A bearded knight answered. “We are Praxians, the old man sent us,” Hondros nudged at the shivering father. “A heap of faith, that one,” the knight cursed, “We have this under control.” “Our client thinks otherwise,” Hondros pressured, “What’s the situation?” “You have no jurisdiction in this matter, mercenary,” the Knight pressured, “This is a case of banditry on Lord Hephatos’ fife, not some stray pigguts who stole a cat.” Hondros and the knight stared at each other, eyes like daggers. Eventually Hondros cleared his throat and Renevin sighed, “What’s your plan, then?” “That’s not for yo-” The knight began. “We are going to storm it,” one of the other soldiers cut him off meekly and the knight gritted his teeth “You can’t!” The father huffed, “My boy is in there.” “And I bet they have him by knifepoint,” Renevin added, “Waiting for you to storm. As soon as they see you they are going to cut the boys throat and run.” He paused, “But you already know that, don’t you? Why else would you still be waiting outside looking at your feet.” Hondros grinned as the knight’s face turned red with anger and shame, “By void, fine. What do the most holy and great Praxian’s suggest?” He sneered, “Scare them away with bedtime tales?” Hondros groaned loudly, “I don’t have time for this!” He pushed past the knight and walked up to the estate. He slammed a fist on the door, “Hey assholes! Give in now or face punishment!” “Fuck your mother!” Came from past the door and Hondros shouted back. “So be it, then!” The Praxian ripped the crossbow off his back and looked at Renevin, “Use the stones, wait for my shot.” “The stones?” Renevin’s eyes widened. “Braman is going to kill us if he knows this is what we used his stones for.” D’Bran added. “You wanted the job, we are doing it right. Use them,” Hondros pushed past the others and disappeared around the flank of the building. The knight and his two squares stared at the Praxians and Renevin shrugged of his bag. He produced one of the lightning filled orbs and handed it to D’Bran. The blue glow caused the onlookers eyes to grow wide with wonder. D’Bran ripped his short sword from his belt and nodded. Renevin procured the dark inky orb and ripped his own blade free. In the distance there was a sudden twang and a fleshy thud. Renevin crushed the glassy orb with a squeeze of his fist, the glass dissipating into nothingness. A dark, light stealing miasma began to spill from his hand. [hr] Inside the estate, a group of seven men listened carefully. One scraggly bearded bandit stood near the back of the large foyer, a young dark haired man tied to a chair. The bandit held a large curved knife to the sitting man’s neck, the nervous shaking of the bandit causing the blade to nick his throat. The man whimpered, eyes closed. The other six stood near the door, maces, woodcutting axes and even two swords held ready. The entire room was turned upside down, with furniture flipped, and estate papers everywhere. Shafts of light cut through the many --albeit very thin-- windows, motes of dust dancing in the skinny spears of the sun. A servant lay slumped against one corner of the room, dead and bloody. Without warning a accented voice suddenly erupted past the door. “Hey assholes! Give in now or face punishment!” One of the bandits near the door looked at the others, who gave him a resolved look. He sucked in a breath, “Fuck your mother!” “So be it then!” The voice called back, and then footsteps faded from the door. The bandits tightened their grips, leather straps straining. The bearded bandit by the tied up man sucked in a breath and held his blade firm against the tied up man’s neck, pressing it in dangerously. A few silent seconds passed, the only noise being the haggard breath of the hostage. [i]THWACK[/i] Suddenly a bolt smashed through one of the windows, miraculously slipping by the thin frame and slamming into the ear of the man with the knife. There was a skull cracking snap and his head snapped to the side, the bolt all but disappearing inside his head with an explosion of gore. The bandit slammed into the ground, dead on impact. The blood covered hostage screamed and the other bandits’ hearts lurched. The door flew off its hinges with a loud slam, and instantly an inky blackness swallowed the room. The bandits yelled as they rubbed at their eyes trying to see. There were two faint sounds of glass shattering and suddenly two swords cut through the darkness, crackling with blue electricity. Electric eyes stared past them and they began to cut through the bandits. The blades hummed as they passed by the first bandit, the cutting edges cleaving into his neck. The other bandits fumbled their weapons forward in the magical darkness, but it was too late. With mechanical precision the blades found their openings in the pitch black. Unseen blood was burnt to the gruesome wounds by arcing electricity, muscles spasmed uncontrollably and blackened burns jumped over the bandit’s seizing bodies. Two by two they fell in a matter of seconds, their corpses wriggling on the ground, until all that remained was one tied up man struggling against his constraints and two crackling blades of blue. One of the blades arced down, slicing the ropes from the man’s wrists, the other swipe the horizontally, the tip snagging and cutting loose the bonds on his ankles. The rescued man yelped and scurried forward in the darkness, blind but free. A gruff hand wrangled the collar of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. With a hard push, he was thrown into the outside. Light assaulted the man’s eyes as he landed in the sunny grass of the outside. He turned behind him to see Renevin and D’Bran emerged from an inky black miasma that held the estate in its grip. Their eyes buzzed with electricity for a moment before fading to normal. Suddenly the man’s father jumped out from behind a knight and two squires. “Basil!” The father cried and Basil scampered to his feet, dodging the embrace. “F-father!” Basil looked at everyone with wide eyes. “The Praxians came, boy, they saved you,” The father tilted his head at Renevin. “O-Oh,” Basil stammered, and as the father once again went to hug his son, Basil retreated, “Uhm, that’s okay.” He put his hands up, “I need to-- process.” He turned around and walked off towards the fields, hands gripping his hair. “He’s an odd one,” Hondros remarked as he rejoined the group, his fingers unstringing his crossbow. “Takes after his mother,” The father grunted, “But thank you, I don’t know what would’ve happened--” “The very same thing,” The knight defended, “I will be adding this gross display of insolence to my report.” With little else he turned on his heel, “You will learn your place.” As he began to walk, one of the squires secretly pumped Hondros’ hand. “Thank you, I will make sure our lord hears the real story,” He smiled and Hondros bowed his head. “Squire!” The knight barked and the young soldier hurried off. Once everyone was out of ear shot, Renevin turned to the father. “I suppose that’s it then.” “I suppose it is,” The father hummed and tilted back and forth on his heels, “I suppose it is.” “No need to PAY us,” D’Bran hinted loudly. “Our order doesn’t require payment, but it does enjoy DONATIONS,” Hondros cleared his throat. “Ah very good then,” The father smiled a thin lipped grin and began to toddle off, “I’ll make sure everyone knows the kindness of Ampexida’s oldest heroes!” “VERY GOOD,” Hondros all but growled. The group grumbled as the old man slammed the door behind him, having retired to his estate, the miasma having disappeared. They stood there for a moment in wonder, and then Basil reappeared from around the corner of the estate. “Hold,” Basil ordered as he jogged up to them with a small bag in his hand. “Better not be a-” D’Bran began but was cut off by the young man as he hefted the heavy bag into his arms. “Consider it a donation my crazed father would never give,” Basil conspired, “I’d give you more, but the rest is for me. I got to get the void away from here before the old madman’s dealings get me into another mess.” The young man shook his head with exasperation and once again wandered off seemingly aimlessly. Renevin blew an exhale through his lips, “Must run in the family.” “Look at this,” D’Bran suddenly huddled over the bag as if protecting it from outside view. The other two bent their heads to see, their eyes growing wide. A small pile of golden coins stared back at them. D’Bran shut the bag quickly, as if they were about to fly away. “Add that to the dragon ransom, and we have a refreshed order,” Hondros smiled greedily. “And finally some real food,” D’Bran grumbled. “New pillows,” Renevin added and the others groaned, all three chanting in admiration, “New pillows.” [hr] On their way back to get to wagon from the stables, the day dreaming trio was suddenly stopped by a strange looking man. “Hold, Praxians,” The mustachioed gentleman commanded, “I hear tell that you are in the market for grade A chickens!” He beamed a white smile, with only one tooth missing from the back. Hondros glared at everyone involved and sucked in a deep breath, “SON OF A-- [hider=summary] The boys are at it again (not that half of you know who the boys are or what they are at) and they stop by Paulos’ pub to get some information on dragons. Unfortunately Renevin and D’Bran’s cover of chicken farmers follows them and Hondros gets into a spat with a proud chicken seller. While this goes on Renevin swipes a rare treat: tobacco, from a drunk patron and shares it with D’Bran. They have an exchange and then turn back to Hondros who is now talking to the bartender. They find out the dragon is taking roost in an abandoned fort named Orriyix. Hondros leaves to pee and check on the wagon. While gone, Renevin and D’Bran take up a job to save some dudes son from bandits. Hondros isn’t too happy about it but goes along with it. They find the place in question, argue with the local authorities, then go in anyways. They subdue the bandits, save the son, and get a sizable donation for their troubles. Then they get mistaken for chicken farmers again. [/hider]