Warrior in the Shadows

The Forests of Death (Dead)

The conversation between Ramara and the young boy reminded Wade of a much younger boy who had tried to take up his father's place. Wade and many men-at-arms were clearing a town, after toppling the walls and breaking through a siege. They were clearing house after house, making sure there was no resistance. It had so far dispersed with little threat left, as they hadn't experienced resistance on this next street. The previous patrol had cleared a lot, so they had little to worry about.

The signs of resistance showed, and it had been adequately stifled well. Dead soldiers laid everywhere. Among them, there was a child, a boy, on the ground weeping over what Wade assumed to be his father. They simply looked over the boy as they passed over, but after the boy noticed them, Wade saw something unexpected. The boy was trying to pick up his father's crossbow. Wade already had his own crossbow in hand and he pointed it at the boy.

He was a long distance off from the child, and the rest of the men-at-arms were too far ahead. Wade was the only one far back enough to respond, or even notice. He looked at the boy, as the boy paid him no mind and kept trying to pick up the crossbow. "Don't pick it up." Wade whispered, as the child kept trying. His eyes became wet with frustration as his mouth shook. "Dontchu fuckin' pick it up." His voice was shaking, as he had killed before, but this was long before his days of dealing with genocide.

Wade was a much younger man. This boy was perhaps a good decade younger and he persisted, until he held his father's crossbow in his hands and aimed it at Wade's comrades. "Dontchu fucking pull that trigger!" Before Wade knew it, he let loose a bolt from his crossbow on the boy. The boy went down, pierced through the heart by Wade's bolt. "FUCK!" He screamed it as he reloaded the crossbow, hastily. "Why'd you have to fucking do it?!" He said, his eyes watering up with frustration.

Sometime after that, he started to experience a much bleaker world, killing more. Age stopped mattering, so did status and gender. He had killed all he could. The only thing he could hold onto was the fact that he was still alive and he had to make sure his comrades stayed alive, too.

Back in the present, Wade took the water and bread from the boy, graciously taking them back. "Yeah, whatever. Dick." His eyes looked dark as he had recalled the memory in a small flash.

He noted the conversation between the two women and the boy. He wasn't sure if he liked everything he was hearing from the older woman, but she was spot on for much. "You're a fucking assassin?" Wade had a look of slight amusement on his face as he spoke towards the blonde emotionless female. He scratched his head, and puffed a little more on his pipe.

"Well, of course he fucking cared. We all just insulted his fucking choice of profession which has very sentimental meaning for him, obviously. I'd be pissed the hell off too." Wade finished his short ramble and swigged some of the water. "Wait, I was the only one who insulted his choice of profession." He laughed at the realization. He swigged at the water before hanging it around his torso from the strap that was around it. It dangled freely, annoyingly kicking out with every step he took.

Wade's concentration seemed to settle on the ground as he walked quickly, beside the cart. His attention was unfortunately brought to what was going on between the jester of death and the paladin. The jester was playing with the paladin's long blonde hair and Wade was making a very disgusted looking face. "Ewwww, nooo." He said, to himself, not sure if anyone was listening. "Pretty boy? Aroused? What?" He said it all, not really thinking on whether or not the two of them could hear him, or if the older woman and the assassin were listening to him.

The Sands of Blood (Dead)

Hugh was rummaging through his gear, making sure he had everything. His pipe was long snuffed out, some of the leaves inside of it still not completely used up. He stuffed the pipe away in his saddle bag. Then he slung the saddle bag over his shoulder.

After slinging the saddle bag, he was greeted by the pleasant surprise of Sana, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a kiss on him. It still felt as wonderful as ever, but now he could have a kiss whenever the time was right for it. He rubbed her back with his hands, absorbing the feeling of her body into his hands. When she pulled away from the kiss, Hugh's own lips feeling still pursed and stuck in the kiss, she quickly brought his attention to something she had snuck around his neck.

"Then I will have to carry it with me into every battle." He said, giving an affectionate smile. He lifted the necklace in front of his face and looked over it, seeing it as a beautiful gem, and then placing it back into his shirt under his armor. This woman would make him happy for quite possibly the rest of his life.

There was just one problem. He really had no idea how to go about telling her of his late family. He would never keep a secret from her, but something like this needed to be handled delicately and not just dumped out. There was a time and a place and he was not quite sure when it would be, he just knew he was going to tell her.

With that, he lifted himself up into the wagon, seating himself next to Sana. It warmed him to have her next to him. It was calming and healing to have her there for him. He would be there for her, always ready to keep her safe.

Hugh couldn't help but notice when Sana mentioned I miss you Ramara. He was rather perplexed, but he would learn in due time. "Ramara?" He said, looking to her inquisitively. "Someone you know?" He seemed to have been interrupted by Sana's sudden change of focus to something Artos said about jewelry. Naturally, Hugh just sat back, assuming that the conversation would be carried on later.

He felt the need arise for his pipe once again, feeling it to become some sort of bad habit. Nonetheless, it was enjoyable to blow some smoke from a pipe. It was calming.

The Forests of Death (Dead)

Wade was perplexed by the words shared between the paladin and the jester of death. Wade had never understood why people would feel remorse for people they couldn't save. Of course there were surely family of all the people Wade had killed who wished to find vengeance. People who felt it their own fault for the deaths. That was nonsense of course, because Wade would have killed them too if they had come to the rescue.

Wade and his comrades who fought alongside each other, only thought of killing. They didn't really care, they made a joke of many things that most people wouldn't be able to laugh at. Their senses of humor were dark, but that was the reality of their situation. You had to be able to laugh at the dark things as a simple man-at-arms. You wouldn't see anything other than killing and comradeship.

The words from the very attractive assassin resounded very true to Wade. He had never raised his sword for anyone other than himself and the men beside him. He had still been the man who had made widows and widowers; orphans and childless. He remembered shooting people down in crowds, all running and screaming in terror, not a chance at survival as they were slaughtered. At the time he had only thought of killing, but now he felt the stigmas of his sins.

"One thing's for sure. You'll only carry that sword for yourself and the ones beside you. One thing paladins and simple soldiers have in common as that we know how to fight for people beside us. Because when shit gets rough, those are the only people you have." Wade had never killed for money or a just cause. He only killed for the men beside him. They were brothers, forged in blood. Now they were all dead and Wade remained.

When a random young man showed up out of the blue and offered his services to the group, Wade scoffed a little. "You seem useful, but why in the fuck are you offering your services to people when you don't even know what they are doing? You might want to ask first." He said, sounding a bit more like the sergeant-at-arms he once was. He knew all to well how to deal with young bucks, but this one was a cleric. A little different in his eyes.

The Forests of Death (Dead)

Wade felt the water wash over him and bring him back into soberness. The anger welled up inside of him as he clenched the grip of his crossbow, having it in mind to shoot the first person he laid eyes on in the head. His eyes quickly landed on a pirate like figure, seeming older and more experienced. Her looks definitely delighted his eyes and his senses felt alive for a moment. For once while sober, he felt something. It really was not just sexual for a moment.

Unfortunately, his mind ended up going into the gutter and he lost any feeling he had, only leaving a bitter husk of a human being. He looked to the young boy that was headed out with them, thinking of how he had killed many that were at his age before. That was that, however. Wade had yet to fully pay the price of his crimes and be free from the burden. Sometimes, he thought he would never be free. He would bear the burdens of the people he killed for the rest of his life after all.

There was something he was told when he was younger by an old sergeant-at-arms that he recalled. "Look the people you kill right in their eyes and never forget them, because they will never forget you." Sometimes, when he looked into the eyes of the living he saw only the dead. Perhaps that was why he had lost feeling. Because he was already dead inside.

Finally, he pulled himself out of his head, pulling out a pipe and sticking a strange leaf into it. He used friction to create a little spark, allowing him to puff on the pipe and get it smoking. He breathed in the smoke, calming himself and bringing his mind to the present.

Wade simply walked next to the wagon, preferring his own two legs over that of a horse. He might ride in a wagon every now and then, but that was for the lack of better options. Now they were going at a good pace, so he walked. His attention went through everything that was occurring around him, tossing it through his now thoughtful mind.

His eyes finally came to the squire tagging around the paladin, and he felt very old. He had noted how the paladin had treated the squire and wasn't even partially on the paladins side. "What an ass." He muttered, then looking to the squire and said, "Why the fuck you wanna be a paladin?" His mind would never be able to grasp why anyone would want to live with a bunch of rich pricks who used the low ranking men-at-arms to do the dirty work, like killing entire villages. He always associated paladins with the nobles of different fiefdoms. He remembered how great it was to kill nobles, them never quite understanding how they could die to a 'lowly' man-at-arms. He loved the look on their faces when he stabbed them over and over again. He just couldn't get enough of killing the pricks.

Some day, however, he would have to stop being such a psychopathic killer. Some day he would probably be put in his grave for it. For now he would have to make the best of it.

Wade pulled out his water skin, which miraculously carried water, and offered it to the squire. The water skin was accompanied by a piece of bread. "You actually look like shit, kid. You really should just find a nice job as a tailor or a butcher or something that doesn't involve killing." He scratched his head, noting the fact that he had just included butcher in a list of jobs that didn't involve killing.

The Sands of Blood (Dead)

Hugh was roused from his sleep by the sun, giving him time to simply relish having Sana there in his arms. He felt her wake and bury her head in his chest. It felt so nice to have her there, safe from any harm. Only when she was in his arms could he be certain she was safe was all he thought. He didn't want to leave the moment, preferring to try and sleep again. If only he had not been roused by the sudden scream that appeared to have been from Ellyn the bard.

It made it worse when Sana jolted up and stepped away. Her yelling for everyone to wake up was not an improvement, either. He snapped up into a seated position and looked out. His eyes grew bigger when he saw the smoke rising on the horizon from the direction of the town they had come from. "What?" He muttered, rubbing his eyes and standing up.

He figured it best to gather his things up and start getting ready. Seeing as his beloved was in the process of checking his horse Rodger, Hugh simply went off and prepped his equipment. He threw on his tunic and his chainmail. Then he wore his pauldrons and his weapons. He was all strapped down and ready. There was only one thing left to do and that was to head to this new destination and figure out what was happening.

The Sands of Blood (Dead)

Hugh felt emotion welling up inside of him, as so many thoughts flooded his mind. He felt sadness that she would have to leave his embrace eventually. He felt happiness that she was there. He couldn't let go at that moment. Her touch, her smell, the way she felt in his arms. He felt that in his arms he could protect her from anything and everything. Some day, they might be able to leave this life on the road and rest in the safety of a peaceful existence, away from war and destruction.

Hugh's worries faded away as he felt her small kisses around his neck, like pleasant drops of water on a wound. He felt her voice against his chest, as she said 'goodnight' to him. All he knew was that when she was there in his arms, she was safe, and that would give him a very pleasant rest. He felt her fall asleep after a short period of time. It was so nice to feel her small frame against his own body.

He was feeling himself drift away, not too long after her descent into sleep. His eyes began to fade, as his last thoughts were of holding on forever. He spoke softly to her, fairly certain she wasn't going to hear his word. "Goodnight." He forced it out as sleep suddenly took him into a world of dreams.

The Sands of Blood (Dead)

Hugh closed his eyes, feeling the simple warm sensation of her touch and her presence. He felt her return his word, saying "mine" softly to him, before giving him a light kiss. He returned it, feeling her soft lips on his. He felt so content and so warm inside with her face there with his own.

The moment was quickly upset by the sound of the flapping of wings and the rush of wind. Sana got up and rushed to where it had come from. Hugh stood in bewilderment, not sure what had happened. All he could tell was they were not under attack. The situation was not made clear until Sana called out for Ellis. He was not near his items or anywhere to be seen. "What? ELLIS?!" He shouted, not sure how to take losing one of their own. His concerns were quickly silenced when he saw Sana drop a note on the ground taken from Ellis's position. By the somber look on her face, he could tell something wasn't quite right. He was uncertain as to what the note said, but if Ellis had been in trouble, Sana might surely speak up.

Hugh sat down as Sana rejoined him, seeming a little bit troubled. She put him at ease by resting on him, and telling him what had happened to the halfling. He felt a little sullen at the halfling's sudden leave taking. He had always been fond of the halfling, but he had left him on a rather bad note. The things he said were hurtful, and perhaps could have been said better. Maybe if Hugh hadn't lost his anger, this might not have happened. His thoughts only ran with worry for the halfling.

Hugh was only put at ease by Sana's presence. She was putting her hands around him, his skin tingling to her touch. She finally brought herself up and kissed him, leaving him a little bit zoned out as he soaked in the kiss. It was more than enough to send his head spinning. He breathed in and out, feeling content at her touch. She lied down, touching his knee and working her way up to his midsection. Each touch of her's was being soaked in by him. His memory would always recall this moment. He took in every little detail, running it through his head again and again to get it down.

He lied down next to her, and wrapped his arms around her. He brought her into his chest, letting her head rest on it. He held her tightly and tenderly, feeling almost as if his world would end if he were to let go. He knew he would have to tell her of his family he once had. He didn't know how to go about it. For now, all he wanted was this moment, and nothing mattered. He let his mind at ease with the thought that he would tell her. He was certain he would. He needed to take his time with all of this. A relationship was a long journey, not a simple battle.

He felt so content with her there in his embrace, leaving her there, and holding her in like a deep breath. It was more than enough for Hugh to find healing within himself. In this moment, nothing else mattered.

The Forests of Death (Dead)

The scene of the bar was no doubt quite chaotic, what with the fight that occurred for a short period of time. It had been quickly dispatched and silenced. This unnerved one man as he would loved to have joined in, but his senses were rather dulled at the moment. The man was simply known as Wade, and his attention was currently diverted towards vomiting in a bucket. He had gotten himself completely drunk before the day had even gone dark, and he had seemed to show no signs of stopping. He wanted to live in a perpetual world of drunkenness.

He would never tell you this, but he got himself so inebriated to feel something again. Even if it was only for a little while.

Wade finished his vomiting, finally bringing his attention to what he had noticed earlier. It was a posting for a mission from the Holy Order. Although he hated any dealings with the holy orders, or the government for that matter, he knew them to pay well. He was more than obliged to take them up on the offer, and took up the new task of locating the paladin.

It had appeared that the man with a rather holier than thou look about him was the one issuing the quest. Not to mention the man had been talking loudly about the quest and that he had declared that he was a paladin. He appeared to have a good sizable group gathered around him, and appeared to be more than content to voice his opinion of one of them in particular. Wade hadn't really the patience for a paladin, they always annoyed him. He would have to deal with this one for pay's sake.

Wade began heading over, having to stop in his tracks once, to vomit and dry heave for a few minutes. Wade nabbed a bar towel from a table he was passing and wiped his face off with it in an attempt to be more polite. Manners were something he immensely lacked in, mostly due to the fact that he had no idea that he was being rude in the first place. He had killed too many people to care anymore.

He arrived at the table to find a drink, seemingly left unattended in front of an open chair, almost as if Wade had been given a formal invitation. He put the bucket with the disgusting contents to the side under another table. Giving a toothy grin to the paladin, he welcomed himself to the chair, "Wow, you ain't bad for a paladin." He said, taking the drink and beginning to nurse it. "Something tells me, you're the man with the job." He said, waving a finger around, weakly leaning against the table.

"I don't have a letter of introduction or anything." He said, ending his sentence with what seemed like stomach acid rising in his throat. He sent it back down with the rum. "With that said," He gave a small attempt at covering his mouth, before giving off a loud belch. he took a few seconds, made sure that was all, and continued. "I am a skilled fighter, so you CAAAAN count on me." He leaned to the side, seemingly losing his balance, but gaining it back and bringing himself to lean against the back of the chair. He continued to nurse at the rum, seemingly enjoying it for the simple fact that it was free.

The Forests of Death (Dead)

Name: Wade
Race: Human
Age: 30
Class: Fighter
Description:
He stands at 5'8" and is more athletically built, if not for his slight beer belly. Otherwise the rest of him is well muscled. When not in his armor(the stuff he is wearing in the picture), he'll be wearing brown pants, with an earthen blue tunic(very much looking like a hoody), black leather boots, and a belt. Under that he wears a white linen shirt and small black shorts as undergarments.

Biography: He was born to a peasant family in a small plot of land owned by a simple lord. He had a normal peasant life for most of his teen years, until he was whisked away as a man-at-arms for a sudden war that no one really cared for except the lord, whom might lose his plot of land. Wade had grown up a very sheltered and inexperienced boy, not really keen to how the world worked or how brutal it could be. It wasn't long before they brutalized him into becoming a hardened man-at-arms, being an infantry man made him favor walking over horse back riding. As such, he doesn't ride, he runs.

Eventually Wade started taking up many different habits, all very distasteful, but all in the name of staying awake and alert or just being at ease. He was keen to smoke many different natural growing substances, such as marijuana and tobacco, never taking things that creatures created for the specific purpose of getting inebriated. Of course, he still drinks alcohol.

He's lost many friends over the years and been very bitter over it. He has taken a good share of beatings and wounds. His body is scarred and burned. If it were to be said, he has taken more mental wounds than anything else, having seen so much death since his early adulthood years. He's been part of genocides of people groups, mass slaughters. He's killed women and children. He was part of the purge of the savages, back in his early twenties. He remembers well the deaths of several different families during the purge, one in particular was at his hand alone.

After he made sergeant-at-arms, he was given a small plot of land. He left it in the care of his family, elevating their status, and taking himself off to adventuring. He hoped to one day bring many spoils home to them and retire from this life.

Skills:
He's excellent with bladed weapons, going for a standard loadout of a short sword and a round buckler. He's as proficient with a crossbow as anyone else. Normally you'll find him using anything as a weapon. Often he'll take damage, but because of his brashness, he tends to scare the more inexperienced attackers.

Equipment: He carries a shortsword, a round buckler shield, and a light crossbow. He doesn't carry very many bolts for the crossbow. He has his armor, plate, and a rucksack, filled with the assortment of necessities for travel. He also has a pipe with tobacco and another more powerful leaf(which he has a good amount of).

The Forests of Death (Dead)

I will have a character up in a few hours.