[center][h3]Way of the Blade[/h3][/center]

	Somewhere in the frozen part of the Daman lands, Renault found himself in a squat building crowded by plenty of other buildings. This particular abode was filled with smoke from both a roaring hearth and the haze of some smokables the patrons of the establishment bought from a strange plant woman behind the bar. She was a unique thing, Renault having never seen such a person before, with a pale green skin, glossy black eyes and protrusions of leaves and grassy stalks here and there, giving her not only a full head of ‘hair’ but grassy tassels on her joints. The paladin didn’t mean to stare, but he did, hidden behind the lip of his clay cup and hunched on a low seated table — turns out posture isn’t too important to hunchbacked wolf people and mutated hippos.

	A voice lilted over the sounds of the other patrons.

 “Hey.”

 Renault turned from his cup and looked up at a tall woman staring down at him. She was plain but pretty, with little mutation other than a stray scale or four on her left cheek and blazing yellow eyes. The paladin gave her a sly smile in return. Without returning it, she continued. “And who might you be?”

 Pumping an eyebrow, Renault answered, “Who’s asking?”

 “Him.” The lady jabbed a thumb behind her, pointing out a large man with an angry misshapen face, playing with a sharp dagger.

 “EUGH!” Renault flinched. The response wasn’t taken well and the large man bumbled out of his chair. As he approached, he was winged by two other Damans, each with a sharp blade.

The paladin stood up, finding himself the same height as the woman. He folded his arms under his cloak, fingers reaching for the metal ends of his armaments. “You too?” He asked with a serious inflection.

“Not my fight,” the woman replied and stepped out of the way.

“I know who you are,” The big man said, his voice shutting down all the chatter of the building. He pointed with his chin at Renault’s forehead, or more specifically, the chamomile tattoo that was kissed upon it. “You’re one of the Beneans.”

“Astute observation my obtuse friend,” Renault grit his teeth. “I don’t suppose this is a welcome party?”

“I put a lot of money on MASTEKEN in that first round,” the big man growled.

“What in the hell is a MASTEKEN?” Renault balked. 

“That’s it!” The big man looked at his wingmen. “Get me my reimbursement.”

Both of the bodyguards took menacing steps forward. Renault fell into a low stance and shrugged his cloak behind him, to reveal his martial form. He stood crouched, as if about to strike, one hand on the long scabbard of a sheathed blade, the other on it’s hilt, as if he was about to draw it. He stared down the closest of the wingment, enough to make them stop in their tracks.

“Do you know the secret way of the blade?” Renault asked. “It’s said a true master can kill a foe by simply unsheathing their blade.” He shook his sheathed blade to bring attention to it. “The trick is that I can only swipe outwards in one predictable direction, so it is pure skill and speed that drives the sword into the neck of the enemy. Will you be ready for it?”

A bead of sweat began to form on the Daman’s forehead as he stared at Renault’s stone cold visage. He took a step forward. Renault tugged on the end of his blade, but instead of unsheathing it with a swipe, he let go — the blade flying pommel first in a straight line and smashing into the Daman’s nose with a bloody pop. The enemy howled but Renault already had pulled a different blade from the other side of his hip, the steel edge gutting the man.

The other bodyguard swung, but Renault blurred under it and came up with a headbutt — crashing against the strongman’s chin and knocking him backwards. With the enemy reeling, Renault tossed two needles from seemingly nowhere, the spines shooting into the man’s exposed neck. With a fluid movement, he spun back to the big man, the tip of his blade on the back of his neck.

Sweating, the big man had his hands held up and a scared looked stamped into his face. Then with a blast of air, the door to the establishment opened and in walked a strange figure, clad in a thick red cloak, her face remained unseen, almost as if it was only an expressionless dark void, her clothes, from what could be seen from the small peeks as the cloak moved, was something that was trying really hard to be Daman in style, but not quite there, the leather was seamlessly cut, the fabric was stainless and the boot, made of albino crocodile leather, while Daman-ish in pride and excess, seemed to have been crafted by careful hands, rather than just cutting the thing in two halves and forcing one’s feet in what was left . Renault recognized the red cloak as the sign he was waiting for and grinned. “Excuse me gentlemen, my date is here.”

Folding his sword back under his cloak, Renault walked from the fight scene and bumped his shoulder against hers before whispering. “You’re late.”

“I am not. This is the exact moment in which I said I would be here, as seen from the height of the moon and star positions.” she replied in genuine annoyance at the implication, as if Renault had started the conversation by declaring she was a failure, a broken clock. In truth, she had been waiting outside for quite a while just to make sure she was exactly punctual, not a moment too early or too late. “Nevertheless, shall we start our date? If you have more friends to play with I can wait for as long as you need.”

“I think I’ve played plenty,” Renault answered before shoving a hand behind him and waving at the mess he caused. “Au revoir!” His voice turned low as he looked back at the contact. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

[hr]

The pair walked away from the smoky building and into the maze that was the unplanned town. Snow was starting to fall, dusting the air and the ground alike as they walked in silence. Due to the nature of the weather, not even a winter bird peeped, leaving the two in an echo with only the sound of the snow brushing against each other, that was until Renault broke the trance. 

“So, where is master Jole?”

“Ah. Sun’s shine upon this land!” the figure blurted in clear frustration, she had been suspicious the whole time, the data was not adding up, but she had hopeful theories of perhaps the man being an envoy or a dummy, she herself had paid a Daman vulpine woman to be her stand-in for the meeting at first, but she had run off with her silver instead. “I expected you to know that.”

She pulled back the cloak to reveal her full face, or rather, a second mask hiding beneath the first, as the face was fully covered by black fabric. She wore a tiara of platinum adorning her black hair. “I am a magistrate. Under Dzallitsunya. I take you are a paladin, under Benea?” 

Renault stopped, the pair coming to a halt. He stared long and hard at her covered face, pinching his chin and squinting. “Son of a bitch, this isn’t a joke is it?” He sighed and hung his head.

Defeated, he added. “Renault, Blade of Benea.”

“Fora, expedition leader of the Halle Kemiha.” she added, shaking her head too. “Seems like our lines of Daman contacts found themselves tangled up. Unfortunate.” she added, once again calmer, like a proper magistrate. “But the knowledge you too found Jole is at least reassuring, lest he too turns out to be a Xaviorard council agent or even an Anak’Thas zealot.”

“If it’s the latter, then we can take turns venting our stress,” Renault looked up at the snowy sky and blinked as the flakes started to kiss his face. He let out a puff of frozen air and hummed a thought. “I have another lead, Fora.” He tried the name out. “If you aren’t opposed to working with a paladin.”
Given her experience with the Daman so far, it would be a massive step up. “I see no issue in that, our masters are allies and friends, so helping each other seems logical.” she nodded, but Renault would feel, despite the covered face, that she held an inquisitive glare, actively measuring how much she actually believed what she had just said.

Peeking from the corner of his eye, Renault gave her a sideways glance. “I was thinking the same thing. Are you squeamish?”

“I became leader of the expedition branch by showing extreme prowess in anatomical research of unusual beasts. I could handle poking at a bowl of Maelite bug entrails, so I believe it's statistically unlikely I will meet something more nauseating than that?” She spoke the words like someone delivering a résumé. “Unless you mean bodily harm? Provided it's fruitful I would not mind it.”

Renault slowly turned to her and cocked a brow. He opened his mouth but then thought for a second before changing his tone and saying. “There is a business nearby, a shady one, where in a surgeon is known to ‘fix’ recently captured slaves to increase their market value. He makes his money via royalties on the sale and is quite popular since a majority of his fixes use ambrosian limbs. Do you see where I’m going with this?” Before she could answer, Renault added.

“I have reason to believe the higher craftsmanship is of Jole, meaning the surgeon has a link to his workshop, but we would need to go undercover to confirm their quality — and since you’re clearly the smarter of us.” He paused, “well, how would you like to be a newly christened slave-driver?”

“My goddess does have a very, uhm, firm stance towards slavery. My orders were, if given the chance, to poison and torment slavers at will. It was optional though, extra curricular activity, so I may hold off on that for our mission, but overall, let’s try to keep my time as your mistress to a minimum, okay? Having a slave wouldn’t be good for my reputation.” she smirked, no mask could hide that. “Now, do you have your own cuffs or should I bring my own?”

“Benea save me, I can already see this is going to your head.” Renault pinched the bridge of his nose. A long pause. Through the snow, one could practically hear Renault’s gears turning until he finally snapped a finger. “Ah! No need for cuffs, my dear Fora. I’d pretend I have a missing arm, hence our reason for the visit, and we can find a fake soul-biter to put around my neck. Just make sure you get the information out of him we need before he finds out I have all my digits.”

“Huh~” she seemed in a much better mood than a moment before already, the stage was being set again in her mind. “I will bring enough wine and dream honey, by the end of it the man wouldn’t be able to tell how many necks you have, much less arms.”

“It’s a date then!” Renault clapped his hands together. “Just, uhm, save some of that dream honey, would you?”

[hider=Summary]
Deep in the arctic of the Damans we are reintroduced to our hero, Renault, the Blade of Benea. He is sulking in a bar room staring at a shrubby lady when a tall woman approaches him only to ruin the party by then inviting a big jackass of a man to Renault’s table. The man has a grudge against Paladins and a fight ensues. Renault wins the scrap just in time for a red-cloaked woman to enter the bar — his mark. He excuses himself and pulls the lady out of the building only to find out that it’s not his mark but Fora,  the expedition leader of the Halle Kemiha, from the dusklands. 

Turns out they are looking for the same Master Jole to get the best secrets of the best quality soul tech so they agree to join forces. Renault then shares a second lead he had — a sinister surgeon known for ‘fixing’ newly captures slaves with amborsian tech for a portion of the sale money. They suspect he has a connection with Jole’s workshop and devise a plan to infiltrate, in which Fora will act as a slaver and Renault the slave … thought Renault has some reservations with how quickly Fora picked up the role.
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