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Crom nodded as the woman spoke. If nothing else, she seemed marginally hospitable. A glow filled his eyes as the box of wine was opened. Johnathon passed the box to him. He pulled an orange-ish bottle from the ice and passed it on to Griff. He studied the label of the bottle carefully. The name was long, foreign, and difficult to pronounce. It seemed to be quite expensive. He popped the cork from the bottle with his knife and breathed in the aroma of the beverage. It smelled quite strong, though there was a slight sweetness to it's scent. Crom brought the bottle to his lips and took a sip from it. The wine was extremely strong, but the sweetness of the scent carried over to it's flavor. It tasted every bit as expensive as it looked. Crom took a larger drink from the bottle with a smile. "Quite good." He said, looking over to Johnathon, who seemed to be sewing. For a moment Crom watched as the young man's fingers ran the needle through the patch, embroidering it carefully. "So, what are you doing there?" He asked, curious as to just what his friend was doing. He knew very little about stitch work, there had been seamstresses in Esterl, but he had never really observed their work. They were nearing Loenn now. Crom took another swig of wine, unsure of what was yet to come.
Name: Alec Cross 'The Vulture'
Age: 30
Gender:Male
Race: Human
Appearance: Alec stands about six feet tall, and has a thin, though quite muscular, frame. He has long, straight, ink black hair that is parted down the middle and falls just short of his shoulders. His skin is rather pale, owing mostly to the multiple years he spent in a prison with no sunlight. A number of his teeth were knocked out or broken during his time in the Castle of Tears, and have since been replaced with gold. The most notable of these are his front teeth and his canines, the latter of which have been replaced with slightly lengthened gold fangs. His eyes are a light pink, and seem to shimmer with craze and bloodlust, a characteristic that often makes others rather uncomfortable. His skin is heavily scarred from the tortures he had to endure, most notably on his face. Two cross-shaped scars adorn his sallow cheeks. These were left when an iron prisoner's mask was nailed onto his face. This constant reminder of torture, in combination with his wild eyes, gives Alec a fearsome appearance befitting of the Vulture of the Reins.
Clothing: Alec's clothing is fitting of his title as Lord of the Reins, being made of expensive fabrics. He wears a long black cloak, the exterior of which appears similar to velvet. The inside of the cloak is lined with thick black fur, which extends into a large collar around his shoulders. The cloak has no hood, and is bound with a golden brooch bearing the symbol of the Roost: a vulture with broken shackles around it's ankles. Beneath his cloak, Alec wears a loose fitting, long-sleeved black shirt that is covered by a crimson vest. The vest is made of a sturdy fabric, carefully sewn to be resilient as well as elegant. Beneath his clothing, Alec wears a shirt of chainmail, which is completely concealed.
The sleeves of his shirt are tucked into a pair of long black gloves made of hard leather. The gloves reach up to just below his elbows. The knuckles of the gloves are adorned with inch long spikes made of black iron, which can be used as a weapon if the need arises. Around his waist, Alec wears a fine black leather belt, which carries his weapons. There is a black wooden sheath covered with leather for his dagger on the left side of the belt, and a simple latch with a buckle to carry his morningstar on the right. The weapons are completely covered by his cloak. Alec also wears black pants, made of a similar fabric to his shirt, which are tucked into a pair of fine black leather boots. The boots are pointed and fasten with golden buckles. A small sheathe for Alec's second dagger is fastened to one of the boots and is made of black leather. Around his neck, Alec wears a collar of black iron, a reminder of where he came from.
Weapons: Alec's primary weapon is a cruel morningstar made of black iron. The mace was forged from the chains that had bound prisoners in the Castle of Tears. He prefers the weapon for it's brutality and the massive amount of physical damage it can do to an opponent. The head of the weapon is covered in jagged spikes, each several inches long. The spines are slightly serrated. The weapon is capable of causing massive bleeding as well as a great deal of trauma. The handle of the weapon is about three feet long,made of the same metal, and ridged for added grip. The bottom of the handle has a single spike protruding from the bottom.
Alec also has two daggers. One is foot long stiletto made of polished silver. The blade is thin and razor sharp on both sides, though it is more useful for stabbing. The weapon has a crossguard made of the same silver and a fine ivory handle. Alec acquired the weapon during one of his 'visits' to a foreign land.
Alec's only other weapon is a small dagger with a undulating blade made of a strange black metal. The metal is porous and soaked in a deadly poison. Even a small amount of the poison is capable of killing a grown man. The poison causes an intense pain in the target, immobilizing them before constricting their breathing and eventually killing them. Few have ever survived the experience, though those who have are thereafter nearly completely immune to the poison. The weapon was acquired by the Lord of the Reins in the kingdom of Lyok, a land known for their worship of snakes. The porous metal the blade is made of is only found in the desert kingdom. The exact circumstances regarding the weapon's acquisition are unknown.
Personality: Alec is bloodthirsty and cruel, thoroughly enjoying killing. He is brutal and unrelenting in combat, though he does not kill needlessly. Due to his torture, he is nearly unfazed by even the most agonizing pain. He is fiercely independent and confident, seeing himself on the same level as any other lord despite his impoverished background. He shows little reverence to the stations of others, a trait that has often offended his highborn clients. Despite his severity, the people of the Vulture's Roost generally praise their lord, as he abolished slavery within the Reins and protected them against the men of Gris. He is an adept tactician, and has commanded his troops to devastating effect in a number of battles.
History: Alec was born as a slave in The Reins, a province of Gris. Gris is a frigid land, lying far to the north of Estovet. His family were from Castil, and island near Esterl, though they were kidnapped and sold by slavers raiding the small island nation. He grew up in a rough environment, serving under Kraston Vjorn, the Lord of the Reins and holder of Thornbrook Castle, more commonly referred to as the Castle of Tears for it's enormous dungeon and it's infamy for torturing prisoners. Alec's mother died in childbirth, so he was raised, alongside his older sister, by his father in one of the small slave villages that surrounded the keep.
At the age of eleven he ran afoul of the lord and was imprisoned in the dungeons of the Castle of Tears. He became a favorite 'pet' of the dungeon's jailer, who put him under excruciating torture every day for six years. At seventeen, he managed to kill his tormentor and take his keys, going on to release a multitude of other prisoners. The mob of prisoners rebelled against their lord, raiding the armory and arming themselves and the castle's slaves. The force overtook the castle's relatively small army. Alec killed the lord who had caused him so much pain, and took his title as Lord of the Reins. He renamed the keep Vulture's Roost and took his place as it's lord, freeing all slaves within the region and building a fierce reputation. Alec also built his army considerably by offering asylum to slaves from any region seeking freedom. Thousands flocked to the Reins to begin new lives.
After consolidating his power in the Reins, Alec set out to build reputation and wealth for his kingdom in the outside world. His army became a renowned mercenary force, and he himself took numerous contracts for assassination, accumulating a great deal of fear and gold. Alec's reputation is feared on a wide scale amongst nobility. It is often stated that any man who sees the Vulture is already dead.
Age: 30
Gender:Male
Race: Human
Appearance: Alec stands about six feet tall, and has a thin, though quite muscular, frame. He has long, straight, ink black hair that is parted down the middle and falls just short of his shoulders. His skin is rather pale, owing mostly to the multiple years he spent in a prison with no sunlight. A number of his teeth were knocked out or broken during his time in the Castle of Tears, and have since been replaced with gold. The most notable of these are his front teeth and his canines, the latter of which have been replaced with slightly lengthened gold fangs. His eyes are a light pink, and seem to shimmer with craze and bloodlust, a characteristic that often makes others rather uncomfortable. His skin is heavily scarred from the tortures he had to endure, most notably on his face. Two cross-shaped scars adorn his sallow cheeks. These were left when an iron prisoner's mask was nailed onto his face. This constant reminder of torture, in combination with his wild eyes, gives Alec a fearsome appearance befitting of the Vulture of the Reins.
Clothing: Alec's clothing is fitting of his title as Lord of the Reins, being made of expensive fabrics. He wears a long black cloak, the exterior of which appears similar to velvet. The inside of the cloak is lined with thick black fur, which extends into a large collar around his shoulders. The cloak has no hood, and is bound with a golden brooch bearing the symbol of the Roost: a vulture with broken shackles around it's ankles. Beneath his cloak, Alec wears a loose fitting, long-sleeved black shirt that is covered by a crimson vest. The vest is made of a sturdy fabric, carefully sewn to be resilient as well as elegant. Beneath his clothing, Alec wears a shirt of chainmail, which is completely concealed.
The sleeves of his shirt are tucked into a pair of long black gloves made of hard leather. The gloves reach up to just below his elbows. The knuckles of the gloves are adorned with inch long spikes made of black iron, which can be used as a weapon if the need arises. Around his waist, Alec wears a fine black leather belt, which carries his weapons. There is a black wooden sheath covered with leather for his dagger on the left side of the belt, and a simple latch with a buckle to carry his morningstar on the right. The weapons are completely covered by his cloak. Alec also wears black pants, made of a similar fabric to his shirt, which are tucked into a pair of fine black leather boots. The boots are pointed and fasten with golden buckles. A small sheathe for Alec's second dagger is fastened to one of the boots and is made of black leather. Around his neck, Alec wears a collar of black iron, a reminder of where he came from.
Weapons: Alec's primary weapon is a cruel morningstar made of black iron. The mace was forged from the chains that had bound prisoners in the Castle of Tears. He prefers the weapon for it's brutality and the massive amount of physical damage it can do to an opponent. The head of the weapon is covered in jagged spikes, each several inches long. The spines are slightly serrated. The weapon is capable of causing massive bleeding as well as a great deal of trauma. The handle of the weapon is about three feet long,made of the same metal, and ridged for added grip. The bottom of the handle has a single spike protruding from the bottom.
Alec also has two daggers. One is foot long stiletto made of polished silver. The blade is thin and razor sharp on both sides, though it is more useful for stabbing. The weapon has a crossguard made of the same silver and a fine ivory handle. Alec acquired the weapon during one of his 'visits' to a foreign land.
Alec's only other weapon is a small dagger with a undulating blade made of a strange black metal. The metal is porous and soaked in a deadly poison. Even a small amount of the poison is capable of killing a grown man. The poison causes an intense pain in the target, immobilizing them before constricting their breathing and eventually killing them. Few have ever survived the experience, though those who have are thereafter nearly completely immune to the poison. The weapon was acquired by the Lord of the Reins in the kingdom of Lyok, a land known for their worship of snakes. The porous metal the blade is made of is only found in the desert kingdom. The exact circumstances regarding the weapon's acquisition are unknown.
Personality: Alec is bloodthirsty and cruel, thoroughly enjoying killing. He is brutal and unrelenting in combat, though he does not kill needlessly. Due to his torture, he is nearly unfazed by even the most agonizing pain. He is fiercely independent and confident, seeing himself on the same level as any other lord despite his impoverished background. He shows little reverence to the stations of others, a trait that has often offended his highborn clients. Despite his severity, the people of the Vulture's Roost generally praise their lord, as he abolished slavery within the Reins and protected them against the men of Gris. He is an adept tactician, and has commanded his troops to devastating effect in a number of battles.
History: Alec was born as a slave in The Reins, a province of Gris. Gris is a frigid land, lying far to the north of Estovet. His family were from Castil, and island near Esterl, though they were kidnapped and sold by slavers raiding the small island nation. He grew up in a rough environment, serving under Kraston Vjorn, the Lord of the Reins and holder of Thornbrook Castle, more commonly referred to as the Castle of Tears for it's enormous dungeon and it's infamy for torturing prisoners. Alec's mother died in childbirth, so he was raised, alongside his older sister, by his father in one of the small slave villages that surrounded the keep.
At the age of eleven he ran afoul of the lord and was imprisoned in the dungeons of the Castle of Tears. He became a favorite 'pet' of the dungeon's jailer, who put him under excruciating torture every day for six years. At seventeen, he managed to kill his tormentor and take his keys, going on to release a multitude of other prisoners. The mob of prisoners rebelled against their lord, raiding the armory and arming themselves and the castle's slaves. The force overtook the castle's relatively small army. Alec killed the lord who had caused him so much pain, and took his title as Lord of the Reins. He renamed the keep Vulture's Roost and took his place as it's lord, freeing all slaves within the region and building a fierce reputation. Alec also built his army considerably by offering asylum to slaves from any region seeking freedom. Thousands flocked to the Reins to begin new lives.
After consolidating his power in the Reins, Alec set out to build reputation and wealth for his kingdom in the outside world. His army became a renowned mercenary force, and he himself took numerous contracts for assassination, accumulating a great deal of fear and gold. Alec's reputation is feared on a wide scale amongst nobility. It is often stated that any man who sees the Vulture is already dead.
Crom looked over at Griff. The man accepted the agreement with no questions asked. Maybe the Esterlian was being too difficult. The woman answered his questions, though he still felt off about the whole situation. He looked down at the book she had tossed in front of him, but shook his head. Her explanation had been enough. He didn't appreciate the implied threat at the end of her explanation, but he was in no condition to instigate a showdown in the back of a wagon, especially not when he was outnumbered. He shrugged his shoulders and leaned back, bringing his hands to his sides. His wounds had closed for the most part, but they still hurt quite a bit, and he felt a headache rushing upon him as his sobriety intensified. He answered the woman, in a more relaxed tone. "No need for threats. I just like to know what I'm doing before I agree to it. I appreciate your help." Crom still didn't fully trust the woman, and felt there was a great deal more to the job than what she had said, but he was in no position to turn down medical care. Crom brushed his hair from his face with his hand and looked up at the woman. "I'll do it, but I have one request." The soldier pulled the empty flask from his belt and turned it upside down. "You'll find I'm much easier to work with if I've had something to drink."
Crom eyed the woman with distrust. He remembered something he'd heard once: there's no such thing as a free ride. They had taken the bait hook line and sinker. Crom looked at his wounded shoulder, still clutching tightly at the the injury to prevent more blood loss. Under ordinary circumstances, he would've rejected any involvement with the woman. The situation was questionable at best, and despite his position as a mercenary, he preferred to avoid particularly shady clients. Still, without aid, the soldier was in a bad spot. There was a high likelihood that he would bleed out, and he had a strong feeling refusing the offer would put them in a worse position than they were already in. The mercenary rested a hand on the hilt of his weapon and locked eyes with the woman. "Just what kind of work are you asking for?" He looked around at the boxes in the cart. "And what cargo are we transporting?" Crom had a feeling the woman's dealings were of questionable legality. The combination of their current predicament and the intense pain washing over his body had nearly completely sobered him up, and his voice was no longer warm, but flat and frank. The way the woman had said 'walk free' concerned him. He narrowed his eyes, peering at the face beneath the hood. His aching fingers wrapped around the hilt of his weapon. "And what exactly happens if we refuse?"
Crom reached up, pulling himself into the cart with the help of Johnathon and the hooded stranger. He winced. Raising his arm had stretched his torn shoulder. As he made it into the cart, he took a seat near some of the other travelers and grabbed his shoulder, trying to apply some pressure so he wouldn't bleed all over the man's cart. Johnathon and Griff were talking about making bandages. He looked over to his comrades. "Aye, I'd appreciate that." He didn't know how exactly he wanted to die, but he knew it wasn't bleeding out in the back of a merchant's cart in Estovet. The soldier looked around at the other travelers. Most seemed rather normal, and didn't inspire any particular reason to be concerned. Still, Soah's warning echoed in Crom's head. He hoped the werewolf was wrong.
Crom watched in disbelief as Adrian left with Soah. He turned away from the party and stared blankly towards the duo as they walked off into the snowy forest that surrounded the path. Soah's words weren't completely unheeded. He was a bit curious as to exactly what the merchant was doing coming through the mountains, but he wasn't really in a position to ask too many questions. He wouldn't be able to travel very quickly in his current condition, and he didn't know just how long he'd last if they were attacked. The werewolf had injured him rather heavily, and as his adrenaline eased he realized it more and more. The ache in his chest had worsened, and he was still losing blood. Still, leaving Adrian to wander off into the wilderness with a werewolf didn't sit well with him at all. He reminded himself it was the boy's decision, and that his own goal was to keep Johnathon safe. Still, it wasn't right. He shook his head and cursed to himself before turning away from the duo and staggering towards the cart. "So where are we headed?" Crom asked, a bit of his warmness fading. He turned up his flask, drinking the last few drops from the vessel before replacing it on his belt. He was beginning to feel light-headed, and he doubted the alcohol was the cause.
Crom's eyes darted from the cart to Soah as he made his threat. He relaxed, however, when he saw the young man turn his back and leave. He didn't know how he felt about exiling the werewolf. Having a wanted lycan with them was dangerous to be sure, but having that same wanted lycan possibly stalking them was just as bad. He almost considered calling out to the young man, but decided against it. He was in no position to challenge the group. After all, Johnathon had paid him to protect him, and if Johnathon wanted him gone he had no right to argue. Crom sighed and shook his head, hoping that their actions wouldn't have negative consequences, but feeling that they probably would. Crom's gaze was brought back to the wagon and the portly man driving it when he spoke. The man offered them a free ride into the next town. Crom nodded. "Aye, thanks friend, I'd greatly appreciate that." Crom's entire body ached. He hadn't been looking forward to walking through the mountains in his current condition. Still wringing out his wet cloak, Crom turned to the rest of the party. "Sounds good to me lad," he said towards Johnathon. He looked back and forth between Griff and Adrian. He saw no reason to reject a free ride, especially given what they'd been through already.
Crom had stood in silence, nodding along with his companion's ideas. It really didn't seem like the best idea to keep Soah with them. He looked up at the man and shook his head. "Looks like this is where we part ways, mate." Crom said, rather blankly. He didn't feel one way or the other about the fact that the party had ejected the werewolf. He mused over the subject for a few moments, before being interrupted by the sound of hooves crunching through the snow. He turned to see a cart being pulled by two large horses, trotting leisurely through the snow. The cart came to a halt just before it reached the party. Crim heard a voice call out asking about his wounds. The old mercenary realized how bad they currently appeared. He was bloody and very obviously armed, and a naked man lay leaning against a tree mere feet away. He pondered what could be going through the merchant's mind. Deciding the best course of action was being friendly, he walked towards the cart, waving to the large bearded man. "Aye, it most certainly could mate." Crom spoke warmly with a smile, trying to dispel any misgivings the merchant may have had. As he spoke he calmly walked over to his cloak and picked it up. He was a bit disappointed to find it soaked with melted snow. He wrung out the garment before stopping in front of the cart. He bowed slightly. "Crom Vastil, and who are you friend?"
"Thanks, mate." Crom replied to Griff with a laugh. The man hadn't helped in the fight, despite being armed, but for that the mercenary couldn't blame him. No man alive could've challenged the monstrosity without a bit of fear. Had he not been in immediate danger of losing his life, he too would've avoided the fight. Crom rose to his feet with a slight wobble. The wound in his shoulder was still bleeding, though it had certainly slowed. He winced. The werewolf's claws had torn his shoulder deep, and his movement had reminded him of the other injuries he had taken. His arms ached from being pulled about by the beast, and his pierced side, though not as serious as his shoulder wound, didn't feel wonderful. His face was sore from the punch he had taken, and his chest was filled with a deep ache. He wondered if the werewolf had shattered a bone. The soldier shook off the pain, wiping the blood from his blade on the side of his leg carefully before sheathing it. He was thankful to the weapon. Had it been of lesser quality he very well may have broken it in the fight. "Perhaps one day I'll get to see your skills with a blade." He said with a smile to Griff, nodding to the longsword that hung at his side. He was curious as to just what the man was capable of. He had an air of mystery about him that the Esterlian couldn't quite decipher.
There were other matters at hand, though. Adrian seemed dead set on ejecting Soah from the party, a point the mercenary couldn't really argue with. He didn't know if he could handle another battle with the beast in his injured state, especially given that Soah now seemed entirely healed. "The lad raises a good point," the soldier said, motioning to Adrian, "Just what do we do with him?" Crom pointed to the naked man who sat across from the party leaned against a tree. Soah was quite formidable, but it seemed unlikely that such a loose cannon could be trusted. His actions in the town also put the party in jeopardy. The Arcarti forces would likely be hunting him, and if they allied themselves with the lycan, they too would be in danger.
There were other matters at hand, though. Adrian seemed dead set on ejecting Soah from the party, a point the mercenary couldn't really argue with. He didn't know if he could handle another battle with the beast in his injured state, especially given that Soah now seemed entirely healed. "The lad raises a good point," the soldier said, motioning to Adrian, "Just what do we do with him?" Crom pointed to the naked man who sat across from the party leaned against a tree. Soah was quite formidable, but it seemed unlikely that such a loose cannon could be trusted. His actions in the town also put the party in jeopardy. The Arcarti forces would likely be hunting him, and if they allied themselves with the lycan, they too would be in danger.
Well, that was interesting.
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